Foreign Disneyland

Foreign places and faces. The new Disneyland.

First, a too-peppy freshly divorced 34 year-old woman writes a book about her experience traveling abroad to “find happiness and balance” in Italy, India, and Indonesia. Then, with bank-breaking diplomas in hand, college grads leave the country in droves to search for spiritual enlightenment as bartenders/part time surfers on the sunny Australian coast.

Hypothesis:
Ignorance + money + Ethnocentrism + limited time abroad + hidden agenda of career building = Disaster.

How does a spoiled, close minded blond with a surging sense of entitlement get not only a lucrative book deal (the six figure advance allowed her to gallivant around the globe, morphing her perfume scented fuchsia travel diary into a ‘travelogue’) but then, crime of all crimes, get listed in Oprah’s review of books?

In skimming through excerpts from her “novel” most of it seems to be lifted from the crayola-inscribed diary an 8 year-old recorded during recess. A few lines-

"They come upon me all silent and menacing like Pinkerton detectives," she writes of feeling depressed and lonely in Italy, "and they flank me — Depression on my left, Loneliness on my right. They don't need to show me their badges. I know these guys very well. We've been playing a cat-and-mouse game for years now. . . . Then Loneliness starts interrogating me. . . . He asks why I can't get my act together, and why I'm not at home living in a nice house and raising nice children like any respectable woman my age should be."

The poor, painfully bland book review this morning in the nytimes:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/26/books/review/26egan.html

And the author’s personal homepage:
http://www.elizabethgilbert.com/

Then I read the ‘most emailed article’ in today’s NY Times. An article on how college grads are traveling the world in hopes of asserting their independence, finding themselves, and pretty much claiming to be better people. I’m sure a few cheap drinks and lazy weeks under palm trees won’t sidetrack their noble quest. Moreover, it seems as though other cultures, the foreigners that is, are trivialized in the process.

Whether they thought Vietnam would be cool to see, like visiting a tropical jungle war scene from Rambo 2, journeys to these “foreign places” are one long Disneyland joy ride. Unable to leave the commercialized pop culture lens at home, the 22 year olds encountering foreign lands are limited by the superficial novelty of the experience.

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/25/business/worldbusiness/25abroad.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&incamp=article_popular_1

Heart

Lots of stuff.

First, last Sunday the American crew and I headed out to an orphanage to help out with a Sports Day organized by the international volunteers we met the previous week. Really, getting to hang out with kids for an afternoon and run around in the dirt was a big enough reason to wake up early on Sunday. Hopefully some new pics (and captions to old ones) made it up on

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lauraneuhaus/

And the day of big red commericialzed hearts? A shocking discovery in interpreting Hallmark’s holiday.

The newspapers special Valentine’s editorials, filled with appalling suggestions to young girls that if they don’t have a date, they should “stomp their feet when their friends talk about their crushes, in protest that you don’t have a boy and aren’t getting the attention you deserve” and “text the boy you like every ten minutes on his date, throwing off his ability to woo the girl he’s actually with tonight.” Wow.

More interestingly, apparently no Valentine’s Evening in Bangalore is complete without a disco ball, strobe lights, a fog machine, and awful german techno from the 80’s. After a lovely beginning to lovely dinner at one of the best restaurants around town (who served fresh cheese and vinaigrette- these days it just doesn’t get better than that), they went all out with candles, frank sinatra, champagne, and even a pink potpourri gift basket. Then within literally 17 seconds after my French mustard penne arrived, my world dramatically changed.

Gone was the romantic ambience. In its place, a DJ voice screeched across the ridiculously expensive mega bass sound system…. “ALL YOU COUPLES GET OUT ON THE DANCE FLOOR! I’M NOT ASKING YOU, I’M DEMANDING YOU! PAAAAAARTY YAAAH!”

The DJ, a scrawny seventeen year old clad in typical new york city thug fashion, then blasted the most obnoxious a sappy Top Gun ballad remixed with heavy beats reminiscent of a east Berlin underground techno club circa 1987. But the fun really began as pollution-colored smoke exploded out of the newly installed fog machine, the neon strobe lights began their seizure-inducing spinning dance mere yards from my face, and as the restaurant was consumed in valentines day hell… all I could do was frantically search for the kitsch factor in order to survive this sensory overload.

But it was too much- between the 187 decibel rendition of techno’ed barry white and the fluorescent flashing lights drilling holes into my corneas, not even my undying love for all things camp and kitsch could dupe me into believing this was a unique cultural experience. I gulped the rest of the free local red wine, and resolved to revel in the absurdity of my surrondings and maybe learn a few words to "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe". (Continued)

Starter

A brilliant site with brilliant photos. Since blogger is incapable of complying with my photosharing needs (yes thank you for nothing blogger help wizard) I've migrated the images of my dastardly exploits into

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lauraneuhaus/

Freewheeling

If you’ve seen the beginning 10 minutes of the Matt Damon spy thriller, The Bourne Supremacy, you may have an idea what this past week in Goa was like.

Big flashy motorcycles, backpacking nomads, shady dirt paths winding through the leafy jungle, exotic sunsets, thatched roof huts on deserted beaches, sticky fruits, odd looks from villagers, getting lost in villages, sneaking out of huts under the cover of night. Photos tomorrow.

PS. To clarify on the last post, I was never really in the dire position of losing the job. In the middle of blind frustration and distress, I immediately gravitated to the most extreme (and implausible) scenario. Sure, it didn’t go exactly as planned, but it was such a small part of the overall project that nothing was ruined, as I may have allowed myself to fear. Nonetheless I’ve picked up a few more projects around the office which involve the venturing into the mysterious field of analyst relations and digging deep into the technical heart of The Company. As I have zero experience in any of this, it shall be interesting.