Hilltop Culver City

Went to a hill top in Culver City and created this watercolor sketch with many shades of green.

Hyderabad Musicians

 

  

Here are some Musicians I sketched in Hyderabad. I met them while searching for folk musicians for my short film "Gul" (flower).

Los Angeles Forest

Went to the Los Angeles Forest on an overcast day and created this watercolor sketch.

Jamshoro, Sindh

 

  

Here are some small sketches I created in Jamshoro, Sindh. I was there looking for the musicians who eventually recorded the music for my short film "Gul" (flower).

China Sketches

 

  

Here are some sketches created during travels in China last summer.

Culver City Sketches

 

My friend Terry lives in a condo complex with beautiful gardens in it. We went painting there one day and here's what I came up with watercolors. 

Holy Sites in Pakistan

 

During my travels in Pakistan last year, I went to Data Darbar in Lahore, Nankana Sahib and Panja Sahib. Here are some small sketches I created there. The ones of Nankana Sahib and Panja Sahib were created in the morning as people worshiped inside. I waited, and watch as the morning flow of people going to work, and children off to school passed me. I was not allowed to enter until the morning prayer was over and everyone had left. I bide my time by drawing the front gates and fielding questions from passing kids on their way to school with backpacks bigger than them.

Venice Beach

Venice Beach Watercolor Sketches

Sketches from Mongolia

 

  

 

  

 

  

Here are some sketches I made in Mongolia last year. The first is a band at an Irish pub in Ulanbataar. The next 3 are Mongolian and Korean musicians playing out in the planes during the Nadam Festival. Then there are two landspaces painted out in the beautiful country and lastly some wrestlers also from the Nadam festival.

Elephants with Guns

 

Here's a sketch of Elephants with Guns Performing at Seva Cafe in Long Beach. The second sketch is of band member Andy Bauer.

Not Achieved By

Not Achieved By

Alvaro and Michael

We made some great friends name Alvaro (from Spain) and Michael (from France) at the guest house then head out to check out some of the amazing galleries. I took photos where I could. There was an impressive variety of inspiring art. It felt good to take things a bit easier after all the nonstop travel.

Chor Bakar

We walked over to a sort of Bokhari museum, then through an amusement park, looked at the remains of the city walls and then grabbed a bus to Chor Bakar where 4 descendents of Hazrat Abu Bakar are buried. The book mistakenly says that it is Hazrat Abu Bakar himself buried there, but in reality it is 4 of his descendents. There was beautiful tilework and a mosque there besides the graves.

Naqshbandi

I woke up feeling like I had connected to home for a little bit once more, just like the time with Gulmeera and her children, it felt like we had some of the warmth that you only get from those who truly care about you.

There were plans being made to cook some more that night, and Omar and I contributed to the fund then head out. We decided to start the day by heading outside of town to the Mazaar of Khwaja Naqshbandi who started the Naqshbandi Sufi order which is credited with keeping Islam alive, albeit underground there during the Soviet era amongst other things. This again was a living tomb, unlike so many reappropriated buildings. It was stunning and unlike the tombs of kings and others who served themselves, it was well cared for and you could see new and beautiful additions by local artists who still followed the Naqshbandi Sufi Order.

We went to a bazaar across the street for a bit, before hopping on a bus with the most fun bus driver I have ever met. He had Omar and I sit up front with him, and again, though we had no common language, we enjoyed a funny conversation, and he played all kinds of Indian movie music for us. He had this great chef hat and shades on, and the way he approached his job was very laid back, and enjoying himself, while still getting things done. He'd honk and wave at all the other bus and taxi drivers he knew as he passed them, and kept an eye out for beautiful women while making sure we all got to where we were going. It was a really fun ride, and a good reminder of how people can choose to enjoy the life they live.

From there we went to the Ark which was a large fort with museums and such within. I'll let the photos speak for some of the interesting things we saw in there. From there we walked through the bazaars again, having decided to make our purchases now. We picked up some gifts for people then visited the store of a cute, but extremely tough little sales girl I had purchased some gifts from the day before. Yesterday I had offered a price and then started walking when she said no. She ran about a hundred meters up to me shouting "Mr! Mr!" and offered a lower price. By then we were at a cd shop. She kept running back and forth asking her parents and then giving me another price until I bought the gifts.

This time, Omar went in to buy some gum. He bargained with her, because as we had found prices for everything varied to an alarming degree and there was a justified feeling that people were trying to get as much as they could out of anyone in most shops, even on things like soda. So Omar countered the girl's quoted price with a more reasonable one. She stood tough. He wouldn't budge either, knowing her price was too high. She had all the expressions of shock and dismay at Omar's price as any seasoned sales person 5 times her age. It was cute and frightening at the same time.

Finally she says Mr and quotes a price. Omar just looked at her. She ripped open the gum and took out two pieces then offered the rest to Omar at the lower price. I laughed so hard wondering what this little thing was! Omar got his money back and we walked on through the amazing bazaar.We walked all over and I happened upon and amazing puppet shop. The puppets had so much intricate detail and were of such high quality. It was amazing. They were pricier than I could afford at $300 and up, but they were handcrafted works of art and it was really great to even just look at them. After that we head back and joined the gang back at Mubinjans. Sergei, our translater from the previous night had left the city, but Mubinjan managed to communicate and keep us entertained with stories nonetheless as we enjoyed another warm meal with a family of strangers.

Mubinjan

The next day we put on a short performance for the people at the guesthouse. We had a great time with the owner and her family, eating and talking the night before and they had requested that we play some for the owner's sister's birthday. We gladly did so, after a nice breakfast and then hopped on a train to Bukhara. It was still not too late once we got to Bukhara, so we found a place to stay in a simple, but beautiful old home owned by an old man named Mubinjan. We met some of the other guests and it turned out they were cooking Pilov together that night with Mubinjan. They were all travellers from different countries as well. We were graciously invited. We had limited time there so we wanted to quickly head out to see the city, but decided that we would look for some good dessert to bring back.Omar and I left our things there and head out, walking through beautiful restored Zikr khanas, mosques, tombs, caravansaras etc, but all had been transformed into giftshops. So while the original purpose of these sites had been lost, they did manage to keep the high caliber of workmanship and crafts alive through these shops. There were beautiful handicrafts, pottery, puppets, paintings, calligraphy, woodwork etc. It was all really amazing and of a very high quality. These may have been souvenir shops, but the crafts they sold were not junk like I had seen in some places. It was actually a lot of fun to look at all the beautiful work that people had on display. Besides that, we were walking through all kinds of beautiful architecture. Most of the sites in Bukhara were closer together and very near where we were staying, so we managed to see a good majority of it before making a last ditch effort to find some dessert to take back, having failed to find any traditional sweets. We walked around looking for halwa or baklava for quite a while, following all kinds of directions until we were led to a home where we met a family who were really excited to have us read the script written on a tape of a famous Afghan musician, which we did. They offered to make us halwa the next day, but there was nothing today, so instead their son showed us the way to a general store where we could buy chocolate cake.There, Omar and I bought a tray of assorted chocolate cake slices and walked back to the guest house. Everyone else had eaten and was sitting around enjoying some conversation by the time we returned. We presented the cake, and it was put to one side as they made room for a spread of food for us. The pilov was delicious. Lamb, rice, carrots, cooked to where each morsel of rice was rich with flavor. There were backpackers from France, Russia, Italy etc all sitting around a table talking and laughing and enjoying the very charismatic Mubinjan's stories as translated by Sergei, who was from Russia. Mubinjan did not speak English, but he knew a handful of words and used so much expression, body language and sounds to tell stories that captivated us all. There was a real sense that the coming together of this group of people was a special and sweet occasion. This was not a man out to make as much money as possible. He enjoyed being around giving people and enjoyed giving to all of us as well. Our experiences at other hostels or guest houses varied. There were places we made friends and places we did not, but none was like this where the owner and all the guests sat together in such warmth. I felt like we were really a part of something rare and special even for that place and it seemed everyone else did too.We talked and laughed late into the night, before everyone turned in.

Bukhari, Gulmeera and the kids

The next day, Omar and I decided to head outside of town to the tomb of Ismail Bukhari; a well known Muslim scholar credited with the most reliable compilation of the Prophet Muhammad's sayings and examples from his life (hadith).

The guide book got us to the general area where we were supposed to get a bus to the tomb. Once there it took a bit of asking and waiting and some false leads, before a very helpful boy at a general store in the area made it his purpose to get us a fair price on a minibus (mashrutka) headed to our destination. Omar and I were very grateful for the help. At last we were on our way.In front of us sat a woman with two small children. We didn't have a common language, but somehow we all became friends. She told us about how she was also going to the tomb to pray for her son who I believe had health issues while growing up. He seemed fine now, but she was going to make a prayer for his health. We all got off at the same stop, outside the tomb. The woman's name was Gul Meera and she was only a year older than me, with her sons Islam and Ismail. She had so much personality and she was so much fun, joking with us and really just willing to put in the effort to communicate with the two of us who did not speak her language. I decided in my mind that I wanted to see the tomb, but I wanted to do so with our new friends.

We walked in and had our photo taken by a guy in the courtyard. We would pick up prints later. After that, Omar asked where we could perform wadu (washing before prayer). We head over there, with Gulmeera and the kids in tow. They waited while we prepared for Namaz (prayer). Omar and I finally came out and all of us walked over to the mosque in the complex. Gulmeera held on to the little one, while Islam, Omar and I went in to pray. We stood side by side and prayed. I could see Islam out of the corner of my eye copying us, but not knowing how to say Muslim prayers. Gulmeera had mentioned that she had learned to read some Arabic when she was very young, but did not really know how to all that much. She was like many who identified very closely to Islam, but did not really know the rituals and practices, due to years under Soviet rule when all of that was forced underground and taken from people.

Omar went on to pray with the jamaat (group prayer) as it started and I stuck around with Islam and had him repeat a surat (passage from the Quran) after me. Then I taught him a few simple things and prayed some more with him following. My point wasn't to teach him religion, but just seeing him trying to participate, I wanted to take some time out and help him participate. That made it fun for me too, just so he need not feel like an outsider.

He was a really nice kid. Again, we had no common language, but gestures and a few words and sounds seemed to work well enough. He too was very patient and just a really nice kid, so it felt good to try and share something with him.

Afterwards, the three of us stepped out into the courtyard and continued around it with Gulmeera and tiny tot Ismail. He looked very serious, but was just about the cutest kid ever.

We walked around, admiring how beautiful the tile work and architecture was. Ismail Bukhari's mazaar had a very different feel than the former mosques and former places of Islamic learning that were now just empty tourist sites. This was a place still serving its intended purpose. People still remembered this man and came to pay their respects and say prayers. All of that made for a much more beautiful experience.

The work around the tomb itself was particularly stunning. After walking all the way around, we walked through a museuem of Qurans and gifts from visiting dignitaries. Gulmeera and I read some arabic together. She smiled a lot and it really felt to me like I was hanging out with a sister and nephews rather than some strangers. The kids were very sweet and we took turns holding a bag, and keeping our water bottles etc in it as I would with someone I had known for years or my own family.

We got the prints from the photographer and then walked out to catch the bus.

Gulmeera invited us to eat lunch at her home and I was very tempted, just to spend more time with these wonderful people. We also wanted to see some other important sites though, and we were limited on time, so we told her we wanted to go to the Prophet Daniel's tomb also. A part of me hesitated, because I knew it would be an ordeal to figure out how to get to it, but when else would I be there. Gulmeera just smiled and said sure, we'll go there too. She negotiated with the bus driver to take us there once the other passengers had left.

We went there, walked up the hill and spent some time in the tomb, drank some holy water and just enjoyed being there. Legend has it that the Prophet's body grows every year and so they enlarge the tomb every so often. Afterwards we head to a bazaar, and walked around until we found a spot to eat. We walked around some neighborhoods looking for the Jewish quarter, happened upon some interesting buildings that may have been a part of it and then walked back to the bazaar. The whole time, Gulmeera and the kids were happily along for the adventure. Islam was borrowing my camera and taking photos, I was hangin' with Ismail and it was some of the most fun I had on the trip.

Back in the bazaar we walked around and found a place to eat. We played some music, ate some food, laughed, ate some more and then walked outside where we soon parted ways, all of us a bit sad at leaving.

Omar and I made our way back to the art place where we had met some painters the day before. We had promised to try and return with some music and I was supposed to check out one budding animaters drawings. So we came in with Omar's drumb, got some people out, including many passerbyes and played some songs. I met up with the boy and he gave me a photocopy with a bunch of drawings. He was obviously talented and it was fun to see his work.

From there we head back to the guest house where we played music some more for the owner and her family before going to bed.

Samarkand

The next morning, we said goodbye to Simone and head to the train station to go to Samarkand. We met a guy while we were waiting, who kept miming that he had been electrocuted and was crazy, but was very happy that we were Muslims. That was fun, if a bit odd. The train itself was pretty good compared to a lot of transportation we have used on this trip. It was easy enough to get to Samarkand. Once at the station we hopped in a taxi and made our way to a beautiful guesthouse called Antika. There was a large open courtyard with grapes, apples and other fruit growing on a canopy over some tables. We dropped our things off and head out to get some more cash. Walking around, the city had a different feel than Tashkent. Just down the lane from the guest house was an amazing mausoleum and plenty of restored historical buildings. It was great to see that the buildings are restored, but mostly they no longer serve the intended purpose. In that way there is a disconnect between people and history. It's sad to see at times, but it is amazing to see the crafts and arts kept alive. The quality of wood work, tiles, architecture, miniature paintings etc. Uzbekistan has so many souvenir shops, many in these amazing historical buildings, but the good part of it is the quality of items sold there.After much wandering and getting lost, we made our way home and got some sleep.

Yongiabad Bazaar

 

 

The next day we decided to head out to a flea market called Yongiabad Bazaar with a friend we made at the hostel from Switzerland, named Simone. He'd been traveling for a while and was in the final days of the current trip also. We grabbed a bus to a tram to some walking, to some confusion, to another bus and finally reached the market. We were first greeted by some friendly militsiya (police) who introduced us to some more militsiya. They took a while, and we asked if there was a problem and they realized there was not and let us move on. The market itself was full of all kinds of..well junk and a few other things here and there. Machine parts, clothes, animals, books, old cameras, decorations and all kinds of random second hand stuff. We explored for a while, before heading across town to Khost Imom, where there is a mosque called Telyashayakh Mosque, and the Moyie Mubarek Library Museum (housing one of the oldest Qurans in the world). The architecture around there was amazing, but it was all empty. A guard said he would let us in to see the Quran in the museum, but demanded a bunch of money for it. They even called some kind of caretaker there, who offered to take us, but wanted a bunch of money. We agreed to pay them if there was a physical ticket. There was none, so we walked out. There was a mausoleum in the back that still seemed to be used for the intended purpose. After looking around a bit more walked down to Chorsu Bazaar and grabbed some food. There was an upper, open level in a building at the bazaar with all kinds of food vendors. One area in it was an open room with tables, and outside it there was a man grilling shashlyk. We picked up some vegetables to go with the shashlyk and asked if he could grill them. He could not. So I went inside the dining area, asked for a knife and started chopping vegetables. A lady who worked there saw this and offered to chop them for me.

Simone and Omar returned with some soda and nan. The lady returned with a beautifully chopped and seasoned salad. After lunch we walked down the street to a fast food place to just sit and drink some coffee etc. The place was like a nicer version of an American fast food place. From there we caught the metro, with Simone leaving for a Central Asian film festival and Omar and I heading back to the guest house. We got back and hung out downstairs, playing some music and talking to the security guy named Alex and another traveller named Murat. We didn't share much language between us, but it was pretty amazing to watch Omar tirelessly communicate until after a few songs they themselves were making huge efforts to explain simple things across the language barrier. I was tired and mostly just sat back and watched as Omar learned some more words to a Russian song his friend Constantine used to play.

It was really interesting watching Murat and Alex go from being very quiet, to gesturing and using bits of words to explain the deeper meaning of the song and its pronounciation and how it was sang.

A few hours later Simone returned and told us about his experience at the festival. First he had to convince the ticket seller that this film existed. Then he got the ticket and had to convince the theatre person that it existed, before finally being led to an empty theatre. He convinced the projectionist that yes he did want to see the film even though he was the only one there and that though he did not understand the language he still wanted to watch. Half an hour through the film, the projectionist came down to see if Simone was still awake and asked if he really wanted to watch the whole thing. Simone did, but the rickety dvd started skipping and after many failed attempts he had to stop without ever finding out how this coming of age Soviet era story ended. He told us that the projectionist was a strong communist supporter, who had been in that job for over 30 years. He walked Simone to the metro, giving him advice on where he should go and what not to miss in Tashkent. After all that bizarreness it was time to sleep.

Tashkent Day 2

So we went out again, finally got a little cash, ate some food at last (thankful for the complimentary breakfast at the hostel) and all of that in a day. We had a longer meeting with our friends in the metro as well as many other chats along the way. In fact, by the time we were riding back towards the hostel, we actually recognized some of the new friends in uniform we had met during the day. We went to an internet cafe and then decided to call it a day, early around 7pm, because it gets a bit tiring being always being careful not to photograph any kind of security buildings..especially when you don't read Russian. That's why there aren't that many pictures.

How do I get cash in Tashkent?!

Andy, Omar and I grabbed some food, while Mike stayed to let us back in. We shared a final breakfast together at Andy's friend's kitchen table before Omar and I jumped in a taxi and head to the airport. I packed away my camera stuff because of all the strict regulations and not wanting any trouble. We got there early, hung out for a while, then flew out on a quick hour long flight to Tashkent. Once in the country, we saw many Pakistanis at the airport, arriving on a flight from Lahore. Once through customs, we hopped in a cab after negotiating a price. The guy thought it was funny to try and double it on the way. I opened the door and threatened to get out, and he quietened a little. We got to the place and he did try one final time to squeeze some extra money out of us. I just handed him what we had agreed and left it at that.

The hostel owner greeted Omar and I with some Urdu. Unfortunately, after the usual Muslim jokes, all he could muster was a lot of cursing, asking if we wanted to do all kinds of idiotic things that we had no interest in as some kind of a joke. It is a pleasure to be looked down upon for your race and the unfounded (as in equally applicable to anyone else) prejudices linked by people to it. Even better to hear all kinds of dirty talk from some old drunk guy with a daughter and wife who should know better. Luckily, the place was comfortable, clean and cheap. On top of that the wife and daughter are very nice and seem to run the place, while the guy just sits around with his old buddies getting drunk all day. All in all, one of the better places we have stayed at.

From there we set out to find an ATM. 8 hours of walking from one to the next and finding them all empty all over town, exhausted us physically and mentally. The saving grace was the kindness of people. Seriously, we have met so many wonderful people on this trip, but the way people tried to help us out here in Tashkent is really amazing. For every annoying jerk we meet, there are tons more warm people who go out of their way to help us, and that I think is the lesson to learn from.

I had limited cash that I exchanged from the airport, but didn't want to run out, so we just walked and walked. Along the way, we met bank staff who called around to help point the way. This is apparently a big problem in Uzbekistan. The currency is valued at about 1,329 Uzbek Som to 1 US dollar, so people have wads of cash, but very little money. That and the fact that atms are almost immediatly emptied makes it very hard to get cash.

At one bank, we met a wonderful lady who walked us up to an office where we met a kind man who had learned English as he said from John Lennon and Mick Jagger. I knew he was cool even before he handed us cookies when we asked for a business card and he had run out.

It is a treat to meet such great people, with so much charm and charisma. Even though we felt miserable, hungry and exhausted at trying so hard to find cash and failing, the city is beautiful with mosaics along the sides of buildings, and amazing architecture all over and more kindness from everyday people than we have run across before, and most of the other cities were very generous and kind also.

The metros are absolutely amazing. Each terminal has a unique design. One had amazing paintings of cosmonauts and the space program. Others had beautiful tiles, or vaulted ceilings with flower designs, or sculptures in the walls etc.

Unfortunately we could not photograph any of these. Each metro station is a work of art.Along the way we were stopped for our papers many many many times, but at least they were friendly and polite. Still after a while it does make a person feel like some kind of criminal, and what felt like harmless looks by people before starts to feel less so. It's not a new situation, but it was fun in Xinjiang, China to not feel like that, at least part of the time we were there.