Bangalore, Day 12

Today (Saturday) has been one long-ass day.

The alarm went off at 5:30am to give me enough time to make myself presentable, pack my camera & batteries and head down to the lobby to meet my hired driver. Today, I and three of my Bangalore office colleagues went to Mysore to see the temples, palaces and countryside.

The drive out of Bangalore itself was quite the adventure. I've made comments here previously about the barely-controlled chaos of urban vehicular traffic. Now I've seen it from the inside as a passenger. Spontaneous lane shifts, casual passing of slower vehicles by crossing into oncoming traffic lanes, speed bumps that made me glad to be wearing a seat belt, sudden stops & accelerations: it was the whole OMG package. In the course of the 150km drive from Bangalore to Mysore, I had 14 heart attacks, five strokes and lord knows how many panic attacks. And that's just the stuff my subconscious hasn't yet blocked.

Traffic calming seems to come in three varieties: the casual speed hump most North Americans would recognize, rumble strip kind of speed bumps (5-6 small speed humps 6-8 inches apart) and portable offset gates erected by the local police which restrict traffic down to a single lane with some tricky navigation. Believe me when I tell you the rumble strip version is guaranteed to get your attention, especially if the stripes have that magical interaction with the wheelbase of your vehicle causing the driver & passengers alike to be tossed around like numbered balls in a bingo machine.

The drive of 150km really did take three full hours each way. Simply put, the highway is dominated by modes of transport which typically can't travel more than 45km/h: critter-drawn wagons, tractors, auto-rickshaws, scooters typically laden with three passengers plus cargo and buses making frequent stops. Even if you could get up to speed, it would only be a matter of five minutes before you hit another traffic calming mechanism.

Still, getting out of town was time well spent in itself. You've seen the photos in National Geographic magazine and I can assure you they're all true: oxen pulling overloaded wagons of sugar cane, cows roaming at will, fields with goats, a troop of monkeys vying for handouts from humans. The only thing missing from the picture was an elephant or two.

Our first stop was a palace commonly known as the "Summer Palace." It's an all-wood structure and while intricately carved & painted, it's rather small for something to be labeled a palace. And at 200 years old, the wooden structure is showing its age. Hopefully, a full restoration will be undertaken some time soon. No photos are forthcoming as photography was forbidden inside the structure and the exterior was sheathed in protective tarps. Sorry.

On our way through town, we made a spontaneous visit to the Roman Catholic cathedral, St Philomena's church. Yup, there is an RC cathedral in downtown Mysore, India. Who knew? Frankly, it was a cathedral like any other. I had hoped there might be some customization in recognition of its special location & culture but no: it was a perfect cut-and-paste gothic structure which would have been perfectly at home anywhere in Europe or North America. Indeed, wikipedia says it was inspired by the Cologne Cathedral in Germany.


The guys suggested we stop for a quick drink as we left the church whereupon I had yet another new experience: street vendor coconut water. There are vendors on every street in every town in the area sitting beside an enormous pile of coconuts. One selects a coconut from the pile, the vendor uses a wide-blade scythe to hack off the stem & husk, then the pointed end to gouge a hole through the meat to the litre of water inside. You can then drink directly from the coconut or, if you're a delicate but fat & overpaid westerner like me, you'll be offered a straw.

While I know this is supposedly a very nutritious drink and is the latest fad in parts of the western world who fetishize all things organic, raw & all-natural, frankly, I wasn't impressed. It wasn't a strong flavor of any particular kind and didn't especially quench my thirst. Imagine dissolving a half-teaspoon of sugar in a quart of water; if that sounds good to you, coconut water is your thing. You're welcome.

The next palace we visited was grand on any measure: the Maharaja's Palace (aka Ambavilasa Palace or Mysore Palace), the royal home of Maharaja Chamaraja Wodeyar IV. This place is the stuff of Disney fairy tales: immense, sprawling, stone, marble & glass, elaborate carvings and luxurious furnishings. Again, photography of the interior was forbidden. Further, one had to go barefoot through the palace. While I expect that of temples & holy places, I was a little surprised about needing to check my shoes to visit a royal palace. Oh, well... at least the shoes were checked at no extra charge.


The other big surprise was the price differential for admission: local citizens can visit for five rupees while foreigners were charged 100 rupees. Perhaps citizens of India get a break because their tax money is preserving the place. I like that theory more than the cough-up-you-fat-overpaid-walking-bank-machine-westerner alternative explanation. Still at effectively $2, it's an incredible bargain.

Next up was lunch at the Sapphire Restaurant at the Lalitha Mahal Palace, now a luxury hotel. Outside of a horrid package of almonds from my hotel mini-bar, I've never had a bad meal in India and this restaurant was no exception. The buffet had so many flavours to try and the dessert table was too enticing for me to resist. I ate too much mais je ne regrette rien.

We began the slow trek back to Bangalore after lunch, winding our way through the winding streets of Mysore, making a few additional stops along the way. The next one was the Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary.

It was a pleasant park on the Cauvery River with several protected islands which are used as nesting areas by various migratory birds. Among other species, there were hundreds of spoonbills, cormorants, pelicans and such, along with very large bats hanging from the upper branches of trees across the river and at least two crocodiles sunning themselves along the shore. There were a half-dozen sanctuary-operated tour boats offering a leisurely half-hour ride around a couple of the small islands so we could get closer to the birds. All boats were propelled by humans with oars: engines would disturb the wildlife. Many photos were taken --including that of the life preservers piled neatly on shore at the landing pier.




And now for a little digression into language...

Yes, english is spoken by a huge portion of the population to some degree. Typically, the more educated one is, the better one's english. As a native english speaker, I make allowances for lapses in vocabulary, syntax & grammar for others, just as many others do when I stumble my way through French or ASL. The point, we all typically agree, is to communicate even if imperfectly and with some effort.

That said, there is a special level of hell in my world for folks of any language who create signs but don't/can't bother to spell-check them with a native speaker or against an Internet filled with suitable examples. Conversational communication is real-time, but making signs for traffic, business or directions isn't, and if one is going to put something out in public for all to see, it should be correct both in content and form. I would take pains to do this if I had to post a sign in spanish, chinese or whatever, and I don't think it's too much to ask adults to do likewise.

I don't mind the admission rate charts referring to people like me as "foreigners." I prefer "foreign national" but there are space restrains so I'll accept the shorter form. (I despise the American term "alien": I'm from Canada, not Mars.) Still, if you're going to use the word "foreigners" three times on your sign, would it hurt to spell it the same way rather than three different ways, none of which were correct? I forgive the misuse of the apostrophe in the follow example: native English speakers have a tough time getting it right so some slack will be cut for those using it as a second (or third or more) language. That said, a quick google search will find standard english signs to copy.


From the bird sanctuary, we drove though still more kilometers of back country roads, through villages and scenery. Our driver was honking the horn even when we were the only vehicle on the road: I can't decide if it was a reflex action from driving in Bangalore where one honks every 10-15 seconds or if the quiet of the countryside unnerved him in some fashion.

Sugar cane is everywhere in these parts. We past many fields just harvested, the process of being harvested or yet to be harvested. Huge stacks of cut cane were piled by the roadside, waiting for the cart with oxen or donkey to collect it.

And finally we arrived at the Kesava Temple, constructed around 1268 AD. It is a UNESCO world heritage site and is undergoing extensive renovation. The stone work and carvings are exquisite: no detail is spared.


By now, it was the late afternoon and the sun was fading so we finally made the final trek back into Bangalore. We had taken a number of major streets and highways out of the city when we went directly to Mysore but I presume we were now approaching from a different direction thanks to our tangential visits to other sites as we were scooting through back alleys and the wrong way up one-way streets, dodging motorcycles, scooters, cows, dogs, pedestrians and other cars in a fashion that would have made Indiana Jones proud for nearly an hour.

Bangalore at night from the neighboring hills isn't as well lit as most western cities, largely because there are fewer street lights. The lights one does see are apartments, homes, businesses and entrances with minimal additional street lighting. Bangalore also has considerably more of a tree canopy that many other cities I've visited which conveniently cuts back on some of the light pollution.

For the first time, I also noted satellite dishes: they were pointed nearly straight up. Since the satellites are positioned over the equator and Bangalore is about 13 degrees north of the equator, this makes perfect sense. It just struck me as unusual because where I grew up, the satellite dishes point at the horizon. See how worldly I'm becoming? :-)

We arrived back at the hotel at nearly 9pm sharp. I was tired, exhausted --and needed a bathroom like never before. Not that I was having any sort of GI issues, it was just time you understand.

Once settled back in my room, I had a drink from the room minibar and attempted to update LJ but the hotel wifi system was having none of it: something wasn't working correctly. I curled up with a book for a short while (on literary references to Charlemagne), then headed to bed.

Bangalore, Day 12

Today (Saturday) has been one long-ass day.

The alarm went off at 5:30am to give me enough time to make myself presentable, pack my camera & batteries and head down to the lobby to meet my hired driver. Today, I and three of my Bangalore office colleagues went to Mysore to see the temples, palaces and countryside.

The drive out of Bangalore itself was quite the adventure. I've made comments here previously about the barely-controlled chaos of urban vehicular traffic. Now I've seen it from the inside as a passenger. Spontaneous lane shifts, casual passing of slower vehicles by crossing into oncoming traffic lanes, speed bumps that made me glad to be wearing a seat belt, sudden stops & accelerations: it was the whole OMG package. In the course of the 150km drive from Bangalore to Mysore, I had 14 heart attacks, five strokes and lord knows how many panic attacks. And that's just the stuff my subconscious hasn't yet blocked.

Traffic calming seems to come in three varieties: the casual speed hump most North Americans would recognize, rumble strip kind of speed bumps (5-6 small speed humps 6-8 inches apart) and portable offset gates erected by the local police which restrict traffic down to a single lane with some tricky navigation. Believe me when I tell you the rumble strip version is guaranteed to get your attention, especially if the stripes have that magical interaction with the wheelbase of your vehicle causing the driver & passengers alike to be tossed around like numbered balls in a bingo machine.

The drive of 150km really did take three full hours each way. Simply put, the highway is dominated by modes of transport which typically can't travel more than 45km/h: critter-drawn wagons, tractors, auto-rickshaws, scooters typically laden with three passengers plus cargo and buses making frequent stops. Even if you could get up to speed, it would only be a matter of five minutes before you hit another traffic calming mechanism.

Still, getting out of town was time well spent in itself. You've seen the photos in National Geographic magazine and I can assure you they're all true: oxen pulling overloaded wagons of sugar cane, cows roaming at will, fields with goats, a troop of monkeys vying for handouts from humans. The only thing missing from the picture was an elephant or two.

Our first stop was a palace commonly known as the "Summer Palace." It's an all-wood structure and while intricately carved & painted, it's rather small for something to be labeled a palace. And at 200 years old, the wooden structure is showing its age. Hopefully, a full restoration will be undertaken some time soon. No photos are forthcoming as photography was forbidden inside the structure and the exterior was sheathed in protective tarps. Sorry.

On our way through town, we made a spontaneous visit to the Roman Catholic cathedral, St Philomena's church. Yup, there is an RC cathedral in downtown Mysore, India. Who knew? Frankly, it was a cathedral like any other. I had hoped there might be some customization in recognition of its special location & culture but no: it was a perfect cut-and-paste gothic structure which would have been perfectly at home anywhere in Europe or North America. Indeed, wikipedia says it was inspired by the Cologne Cathedral in Germany.


The guys suggested we stop for a quick drink as we left the church whereupon I had yet another new experience: street vendor coconut water. There are vendors on every street in every town in the area sitting beside an enormous pile of coconuts. One selects a coconut from the pile, the vendor uses a wide-blade scythe to hack off the stem & husk, then the pointed end to gouge a hole through the meat to the litre of water inside. You can then drink directly from the coconut or, if you're a delicate but fat & overpaid westerner like me, you'll be offered a straw.

While I know this is supposedly a very nutritious drink and is the latest fad in parts of the western world who fetishize all things organic, raw & all-natural, frankly, I wasn't impressed. It wasn't a strong flavor of any particular kind and didn't especially quench my thirst. Imagine dissolving a half-teaspoon of sugar in a quart of water; if that sounds good to you, coconut water is your thing. You're welcome.

The next palace we visited was grand on any measure: the Maharaja's Palace (aka Ambavilasa Palace or Mysore Palace), the royal home of Maharaja Chamaraja Wodeyar IV. This place is the stuff of Disney fairy tales: immense, sprawling, stone, marble & glass, elaborate carvings and luxurious furnishings. Again, photography of the interior was forbidden. Further, one had to go barefoot through the palace. While I expect that of temples & holy places, I was a little surprised about needing to check my shoes to visit a royal palace. Oh, well... at least the shoes were checked at no extra charge.


The other big surprise was the price differential for admission: local citizens can visit for five rupees while foreigners were charged 100 rupees. Perhaps citizens of India get a break because their tax money is preserving the place. I like that theory more than the cough-up-you-fat-overpaid-walking-bank-machine-westerner alternative explanation. Still at effectively $2, it's an incredible bargain.

Next up was lunch at the Sapphire Restaurant at the Lalitha Mahal Palace, now a luxury hotel. Outside of a horrid package of almonds from my hotel mini-bar, I've never had a bad meal in India and this restaurant was no exception. The buffet had so many flavours to try and the dessert table was too enticing for me to resist. I ate too much mais je ne regrette rien.

We began the slow trek back to Bangalore after lunch, winding our way through the winding streets of Mysore, making a few additional stops along the way. The next one was the Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary.

It was a pleasant park on the Cauvery River with several protected islands which are used as nesting areas by various migratory birds. Among other species, there were hundreds of spoonbills, cormorants, pelicans and such, along with very large bats hanging from the upper branches of trees across the river and at least two crocodiles sunning themselves along the shore. There were a half-dozen sanctuary-operated tour boats offering a leisurely half-hour ride around a couple of the small islands so we could get closer to the birds. All boats were propelled by humans with oars: engines would disturb the wildlife. Many photos were taken --including that of the life preservers piled neatly on shore at the landing pier.




And now for a little digression into language...

Yes, english is spoken by a huge portion of the population to some degree. Typically, the more educated one is, the better one's english. As a native english speaker, I make allowances for lapses in vocabulary, syntax & grammar for others, just as many others do when I stumble my way through French or ASL. The point, we all typically agree, is to communicate even if imperfectly and with some effort.

That said, there is a special level of hell in my world for folks of any language who create signs but don't/can't bother to spell-check them with a native speaker or against an Internet filled with suitable examples. Conversational communication is real-time, but making signs for traffic, business or directions isn't, and if one is going to put something out in public for all to see, it should be correct both in content and form. I would take pains to do this if I had to post a sign in spanish, chinese or whatever, and I don't think it's too much to ask adults to do likewise.

I don't mind the admission rate charts referring to people like me as "foreigners." I prefer "foreign national" but there are space restrains so I'll accept the shorter form. (I despise the American term "alien": I'm from Canada, not Mars.) Still, if you're going to use the word "foreigners" three times on your sign, would it hurt to spell it the same way rather than three different ways, none of which were correct? I forgive the misuse of the apostrophe in the follow example: native English speakers have a tough time getting it right so some slack will be cut for those using it as a second (or third or more) language. That said, a quick google search will find standard english signs to copy.


From the bird sanctuary, we drove though still more kilometers of back country roads, through villages and scenery. Our driver was honking the horn even when we were the only vehicle on the road: I can't decide if it was a reflex action from driving in Bangalore where one honks every 10-15 seconds or if the quiet of the countryside unnerved him in some fashion.

Sugar cane is everywhere in these parts. We past many fields just harvested, the process of being harvested or yet to be harvested. Huge stacks of cut cane were piled by the roadside, waiting for the cart with oxen or donkey to collect it.

And finally we arrived at the Kesava Temple, constructed around 1268 AD. It is a UNESCO world heritage site and is undergoing extensive renovation. The stone work and carvings are exquisite: no detail is spared.


By now, it was the late afternoon and the sun was fading so we finally made the final trek back into Bangalore. We had taken a number of major streets and highways out of the city when we went directly to Mysore but I presume we were now approaching from a different direction thanks to our tangential visits to other sites as we were scooting through back alleys and the wrong way up one-way streets, dodging motorcycles, scooters, cows, dogs, pedestrians and other cars in a fashion that would have made Indiana Jones proud for nearly an hour.

Bangalore at night from the neighboring hills isn't as well lit as most western cities, largely because there are fewer street lights. The lights one does see are apartments, homes, businesses and entrances with minimal additional street lighting. Bangalore also has considerably more of a tree canopy that many other cities I've visited which conveniently cuts back on some of the light pollution.

For the first time, I also noted satellite dishes: they were pointed nearly straight up. Since the satellites are positioned over the equator and Bangalore is about 13 degrees north of the equator, this makes perfect sense. It just struck me as unusual because where I grew up, the satellite dishes point at the horizon. See how worldly I'm becoming? :-)

We arrived back at the hotel at nearly 9pm sharp. I was tired, exhausted --and needed a bathroom like never before. Not that I was having any sort of GI issues, it was just time you understand.

Once settled back in my room, I had a drink from the room minibar and attempted to update LJ but the hotel wifi system was having none of it: something wasn't working correctly. I curled up with a book for a short while (on literary references to Charlemagne), then headed to bed.

Bangalore, Day 13

I tried to sleep in a little this morning, really I did. Still, I was awake at 7am despite being utterly exhausted still from the previous day's tours.

As previously planned, I cranked up my mobile phone, connected it to the hotel wifi (which is now functioning as it should, thank you very much) and skyped Kent & Michael back home to chat for a half hour before they went to bed Saturday night.

Since the wifi was working so well and I had little incentive to get out of bed, I caught up on the latest news from Canada and the US, handled some email, updated twitter and so on. If I hadn't been a little thirsty, I would have stayed in the bed the rest of the morning.

I was thirsty however and there were things still to do this last full day in Bangalore. I made myself somewhat presentable and headed out into the world, hoping to get my errands completed before the full heat of the day set in.

Because most of these errands were gift shopping, I won't say much about them here. Suffice it to say, I now have all the souvenirs I was planning to purchase.

Alas, I wasn't able to visit one particular shop as it was closed today; I'll try again tomorrow after work. And I wasn't able to get a second small suitcase: the only store where I've found luggage or indeed anything larger than a purse wanted what could only be called US prices, and I wasn't willing to shell out $125+ for a suitcase when a simple small gym bag would suffice. I'm still not sure what I'm going to do about that.

The early afternoon was mostly spent catching up on my travelogue updates, sorting through photos and generally relaxing in the air conditioning of my room. I suppose I could do more with the day but really I just want to relax and look forward to being home again.

Something I noticed yesterday when out touring with the guys but neglected to report: wow, the locals Do Not Tip. I mean, jeez, I thought I was a lousy tipper but these guys are truly harsh. (Obligatory tourism joke: What's the difference between a Canuck and a canoe? A canoe tips.) I've been giving out 100 rupee notes ($2) to the hotel staff for room service and laundry delivery. To me, it's not extravagant. When we last ate together on our way back to Bangalore yesterday, I paid the bill and was prepared to leave the 15 rupee change behind but the guys actively discouraged me from doing so. I told them how most states in the US have a special minim wage level just for wait staff which is typically a small fraction of the regular minimum wage level and they seemed quite shocked --as would any normal human being, IMHO.

I haven't written much about the local newspapers so let me fill you in on a few things. My primary newspaper here is the Times of India, largely because that's the newspaper the hotel delivers to my door every morning. It's a good mix of local, national & international news: for example, the headlines today (Sunday) were about a controversy in local state high court appointments, speculation that the head of the commander of the Eastern Army may resign (and who will replace him) and Mitt Romney winning delegates in Nevada. At a glance one might guess the journalists here are nowhere near as deferential as American journalists tend to be. Take for example, today's harsh front page headline:


That said, I haven't been here long enough to know if the papers have political affiliations like many North American news outlets. For example, the Toronto Star is well known as a Liberal paper, the National Post as a Conservative one. Is the Times of India a Congress(I) supporter against a state gov't run by the BJP, or do they skewer everyone equally? I'd need more time here to say.

Valentine's Day advertising features prominently. At first, I thought this was a sign of western influence, but the more I think of it, the more I suspect it's marketing depts going the easy path to bigger sales & markets.

The astrology column occupies a full half-page and gives very detailed advice --if you're into that sort of thing. Each zodiac sign includes a celebrity name & photo noting their birthday, but not a single one of these celebrities is Indian: names include Johnny Depp, Tom Cruise, Daniel Radcliffe, Mel Gibson, Russell Crowe and Charlie Sheen, among others. This despite the column being produced by a local astrologer. Go figure.

Sunday comics? Nothing local, not even an editorial cartoon. Just Garfield, Beetle Bailey, Hagar the Horrible and the Wizard of Id. Sorry, India.

Not a word on Whitney Houston but I suspect the paper went to the presses before the news broke.

I'm thinking more & more about my return trip, my logistics of packing, checking out, getting to the airport & such. In particular, I'm thinking a lot more about the list of things to get done nearly as soon as I return, including calling a C2 session on Wednesday. I have plenty of material still in inventory to use, but I should stop procrastinating and get back to writing some new choreo immediately.

Bangalore, Day 13

I tried to sleep in a little this morning, really I did. Still, I was awake at 7am despite being utterly exhausted still from the previous day's tours.

As previously planned, I cranked up my mobile phone, connected it to the hotel wifi (which is now functioning as it should, thank you very much) and skyped Kent & Michael back home to chat for a half hour before they went to bed Saturday night.

Since the wifi was working so well and I had little incentive to get out of bed, I caught up on the latest news from Canada and the US, handled some email, updated twitter and so on. If I hadn't been a little thirsty, I would have stayed in the bed the rest of the morning.

I was thirsty however and there were things still to do this last full day in Bangalore. I made myself somewhat presentable and headed out into the world, hoping to get my errands completed before the full heat of the day set in.

Because most of these errands were gift shopping, I won't say much about them here. Suffice it to say, I now have all the souvenirs I was planning to purchase.

Alas, I wasn't able to visit one particular shop as it was closed today; I'll try again tomorrow after work. And I wasn't able to get a second small suitcase: the only store where I've found luggage or indeed anything larger than a purse wanted what could only be called US prices, and I wasn't willing to shell out $125+ for a suitcase when a simple small gym bag would suffice. I'm still not sure what I'm going to do about that.

The early afternoon was mostly spent catching up on my travelogue updates, sorting through photos and generally relaxing in the air conditioning of my room. I suppose I could do more with the day but really I just want to relax and look forward to being home again.

Something I noticed yesterday when out touring with the guys but neglected to report: wow, the locals Do Not Tip. I mean, jeez, I thought I was a lousy tipper but these guys are truly harsh. (Obligatory tourism joke: What's the difference between a Canuck and a canoe? A canoe tips.) I've been giving out 100 rupee notes ($2) to the hotel staff for room service and laundry delivery. To me, it's not extravagant. When we last ate together on our way back to Bangalore yesterday, I paid the bill and was prepared to leave the 15 rupee change behind but the guys actively discouraged me from doing so. I told them how most states in the US have a special minim wage level just for wait staff which is typically a small fraction of the regular minimum wage level and they seemed quite shocked --as would any normal human being, IMHO.

I haven't written much about the local newspapers so let me fill you in on a few things. My primary newspaper here is the Times of India, largely because that's the newspaper the hotel delivers to my door every morning. It's a good mix of local, national & international news: for example, the headlines today (Sunday) were about a controversy in local state high court appointments, speculation that the head of the commander of the Eastern Army may resign (and who will replace him) and Mitt Romney winning delegates in Nevada. At a glance one might guess the journalists here are nowhere near as deferential as American journalists tend to be. Take for example, today's harsh front page headline:


That said, I haven't been here long enough to know if the papers have political affiliations like many North American news outlets. For example, the Toronto Star is well known as a Liberal paper, the National Post as a Conservative one. Is the Times of India a Congress(I) supporter against a state gov't run by the BJP, or do they skewer everyone equally? I'd need more time here to say.

Valentine's Day advertising features prominently. At first, I thought this was a sign of western influence, but the more I think of it, the more I suspect it's marketing depts going the easy path to bigger sales & markets.

The astrology column occupies a full half-page and gives very detailed advice --if you're into that sort of thing. Each zodiac sign includes a celebrity name & photo noting their birthday, but not a single one of these celebrities is Indian: names include Johnny Depp, Tom Cruise, Daniel Radcliffe, Mel Gibson, Russell Crowe and Charlie Sheen, among others. This despite the column being produced by a local astrologer. Go figure.

Sunday comics? Nothing local, not even an editorial cartoon. Just Garfield, Beetle Bailey, Hagar the Horrible and the Wizard of Id. Sorry, India.

Not a word on Whitney Houston but I suspect the paper went to the presses before the news broke.

I'm thinking more & more about my return trip, my logistics of packing, checking out, getting to the airport & such. In particular, I'm thinking a lot more about the list of things to get done nearly as soon as I return, including calling a C2 session on Wednesday. I have plenty of material still in inventory to use, but I should stop procrastinating and get back to writing some new choreo immediately.