"8/8/09
I arrive in Dubai airport. It’s roughly 6.45pm here. I try to convince my body of this. The airport itself, or what I have access to, is impressive. Near my gate is an elaborate indoor garden complete with Koi Carp pond. I approach the water and the fish come up to great me. I’m reminded of a similar pond in some public gardens at home in Scotland that I used to visit as a kid. The fish would suck at your fingers thinking it was food.
I restart, “I <3 CAMPING” and “Dayvan Cowboy” by Boards of Canada comes on. It’s appropriate music for being so spaced out right now. I think that it’s also one of the few serviceable songs from “The Campfire Headphase” which was such a dissapointment after “Geogaddi”. I buy some samosas and an apple and pear drink from a store. Both are very good although I have no idea how much I paid.
“This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody)” by Talking Heads comes on. I have lots of good memories attached to this song, mostly too private to share but two stick out: being on tour in Brighton and hearing “Speaking in Tongues” for the first time, and a trip to Toronto waterfront last week where we accidentally stumbled on a free showing of “Stop Making Sense”, the live Jonathan Demme film of Talking Heads.
Talking Heads are a difficult band to negotiate at first, I think. Simultaneously accessible and inaccessible, the lesson learned from time spent with their music is that sometimes it’s best not to over-analyse things. “I’m just an animal, looking for a home”, what a line! I wish I could write lyrics like David Byrne, who can say so much with so little.
Waiting for the plane that will take me to Kochi, Kerala, I listen to The Rural Alberta Advantage and The Antlers. I enjoy both although find each albums relentless commitment to the same distraught tone a little overwhelming. Also, “Sylvia” by The Antlers rips off “Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane about half-way through. Still, both are enjoyable and “Don’t Haunt This Place” by RAA is fantastic.
I notice that I’m still hungry. I return to the same place and pick up some spring rolls. “Back again?” the woman behind the counter asks. “Still hungry”, I reply and smile. I use the washroom and come out to find my plane being boarded. Really not feeling The Antlers album now, but I’m not sure why. Too forced, perhaps?
I board the flight, listening to Cass McCombs. “Morning Shadow” sounds especially good at the moment. This plane is less impressive than the previous one. There are still T.V.s in the seats but it looks like the movies stream live rather than providing the choice. The flight will take roughly five hours, a lot less than expected. I take a lemon drink and a hot towel. I spend five minutes with the latter, rolling it up to see if I can still remember how to roll a cigarette. I turn off my ipod for take-off and start making faces at myself in the reflection of the T.V. screen. I hope noone is watching.
I sleep for a bit but keeping banging my head off of things and waking up. The in-flight meal, a vegetarian curry, is good. I end up watching half of “The Devil Wears Prada”. Feeling slightly strange now, and consider listening to the amazing “Wind’s Poem”, by Mt. Eerie. I decide against it. It’s such an intense album. I struggle to find a good time/place to listen to it. Recently, on a late bus from Buffalo to Toronto, I put it on but kept falling asleep and waking up during the most intense points. There was a storm going on outside.
9/8/09
I arrive at Kochi airport after an hour or two more. It takes me roughly half an hour to an hour to get my bag and go through customs who are, generally, fairly efficient and reasonable. At the entrance of the airport I meet Sajeev, the driver for the next nineteen days, who is holding a sign saying “NICHOLAS FENN”. It’s four thirty a.m. and I discover that poor Sajeev has been waiting here for three hours. Luckily it takes only half an hour to arrive at Le Royale, the guest house where my family and I will be staying in Kochi. I go to bed and get roughly five or six hours sleep. After waking up, I shower and dress, and wonder what I’m going to do today on my own.
Going downstairs, I find a place mat and cutlery set out for me. A man, whose name I forget, makes me an amazing breakfast with papaya, mango, pineapple, toast, and eggs. In the middle of this, Jenny and her husband arrive. My father has booked this holiday through Jenny, who talks to me a little about Keralan politics. I discover that, although the Indian Communist Party has been in power for a while, they will be being voted out next year in favour of the Indian Congress Party, who are slightly more right wing. Similarly, the Communist Party haven’t really been progressive, Sajeev informs me later, since prior to the reformation of the state Jenny and her husband are history professors, and have four children, one of whom is studying medicine in the Philipines, and the other three are triplets (two boys and a girl), twelve years old and still at school.
After breakfast, Sajeev drives me on a sight-seeing tour of Kerala, which I am finally seeing in the day light. Everything is very green. It’s like an Indian Massachusets, but with palm trees. There is so much water here, too. Apparently there are four large rivers in Kerala. We visit Sajeev’s house in the village he lives. So nice to be invited here. I meet Sajeev’s brother, nephew, niece, mother, and father, and eat local Keralan delicacies; banana fried in rice flour, popadoms in rice flour, a savoury crispy fried semolina and something else I forget. Later we visit Cherai beach, where Sajeev tells me the locals like to visit. It’s beautiful, and so amazing to see the Arabian sea. I feel to privileged to be here. I listen to the ocean, one of my favourite sounds, as it roars and I fantasize about going on a motorcycle adventure. Must email A. about this. We walk along the beach. On the journey back to Le Royale, I am falling asleep. Everything is like a bizarre beautiful dream right now. I need coffee, though. It’s five thirty.
Later, I listen to “Rolling Home Alone” by Jason Lytle from his brilliantly understated solo album, “Yours Truly, the Commuter”. I love this song. The melody wilfully tugs at the heart-strings but does so so effectively that you forget how simple it is. Another effect use of lyrics that would fall outside of their musical context; “I bought you something nice”. Freed of the Grandaddy moniker, “Yours Truly…” is free of any grand ambitions and is, purely, a great album. Perhaps it will soundtrack more of this trip."
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