just wonging.

Funerals are a dance. How it is in other parts of the world, I don't really know for certain. I've once heard people chanting  la ilaha illa allah repeatedly outside my Damascene house. Revolution had already started, though in a small scale. I opened the door and a person was strapped on a wooden stretcher, covered in shroud. Four men were holding the stretcher up, running around the entire neighborhood. Many followed, some with drums. It was an announcement to everyone around. Then in Nepal, I see a colorful shroud, or perhaps a gown, covered over a body and similarly strapped on a wooden stretcher, perhaps waiting to be taken around. Hindu ceremony perhaps? It is probably a relief for those who leave, but a tough one for those who are still around. Grass is always greener on the other side; not the gate of death, at least most think. So funerals are meant to be sad, many of them rightly so. Certainly, memories and legacy are what's left. But what matters mor...

In honour of the god with an elephant head, worshipped throughout Nepal and India. Indians I've met a lot, but India the first time I've been to. People talk of exoticness before they visit, but I probably left with waves of perplexity. I paid almost zero attention to this country despite it being my neighbour ever since my birth. Odd. I also never really had the intentions of traveling here despite it being the thing to do. Perhaps it's the popularity that put me off. So I arrived hearing of castes, masala, Bollywood, IT industry, religions and practically nothing more. Coming from Hong Kong, an Indian is normally called A Cha as a nickname, much like Guai Lo for white foreigners. Though not necessarily demeaning, the word is not particularly flattering either.   Strongest impression: India is a place that requires constant supply of anger management pills. The unfortunate traveler that has to transit, and thereafter use Indian airports on multiple occ...