Destination: Kyrgyzstan

I’m going to Kyrgyzstan. Today. I can now spell my destination, although pronouncing it is another story. Hard “g” or soft? I go back and forth. I’ll find out soon enough.

So… I procured a Lonely Planet Central Asia at Powell’s recently and learned a few interesting things:

The national sport of Kyrgyzstan is Kok Boru—otherwise known as a polo match played with the headless carcass of a goat. No big deal, right? The game can be traced back to the country's nomadic tribal origins. It's all very Genghis Khan.

Also, 30 percent of married women in Kyrgyzstan entered into wedlock without their consent after a kidnapping and subsequent forced marriage. Yep, “bride-napping” was outlawed in 1991 (1991—not 1891!) but has apparently made a resurgence in popularity after the fall of the Soviet Union. Part of Kyrgyzstan gettin’ back to its roots. Anyway, there’s some interesting human rights issue at work here and hopefully it’s nothing I have to contend with personally.

Aright, that’s my flight boarding. Wish me luck!

nothing new

The other day I woke up with this overwhelming feeling—nothing new or exciting has ever happened in Portland in February. It's one big city-wide slump of the shoulders. Dreary. Bleak. Raw. Gray. Clammy. And so on and so forth. A hike near Hood River quickly becomes unfeasible due to the slippery nature of the mud pathway, and defeated, we drive slowly through town. Luckily, Oregon townships generally have a brew house on every block, so in we go to the Big Horse Brewery where we eat burgers with draft beer and the world—if only for an hour or so—takes on a more appealing tone.

HOME

Coming down off a bananas trip to Colorado—not to visit the family, but to cover a sporting event of ludicrous proportions. I did see the fam for a second, though. Ate a quick lunch in a book-store cafe where nephew Patrick procured a book about paper airplanes. Awesome. Anyway, an observation: Twittering and Web-casting, have you heard of these things? They are apparently a pretty essential part of modern journalism, but ... this sort of technology makes me uncomfortable. I just want to write stuff down in a notebook and then not be able to read it later when it's seasoned into cryptic, coffee-stained nonsense. Is that so wrong? I’m not sure if it’s cliché or not to eschew new technology, but I can’t seem to help it. Hell, though, I’ve got this thing you’re reading, so I can’t be a total caveman. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m down—but only to a certain point, you know?

I’ve been home for two days and I’m still tired. However, I did manage a jaunt up to Windell’s to skate the ‘new stuff.’ It was a little wet, but no big deal, I wasn’t in the mood to really get too raw—just down to relax into some mini-rampin’ and catch up on some Northwest living.

Little Cathy grinded right over the pyramid thingy.

Dry season, where are you?

Peter Gunn pivot, captured sniper-style.

Dusk came quickly and quietly, on little cat feet.

RIP JD Salinger, and Scenes from Aspen

RIP: J.D. Salinger! He died at 91 on Wednesday in New Hampshire, his last published work was in 1965. He was not my absolute favorite author ever, but I did love Franny And Zooey, and Raise High The Roof Beams, Carptenter. Strange sad news!

Anyway.....

In other news, Aspen, people! Oh man I've really been getting out of my comfort zone. You know I'm more of a behind-the-scenes person—I deal in words, not images. But....I had to actually do professional athlete interviews in front of a camera and the result is that I've been painfully reminded about what an awkward-ass dork I am. It's bad. Serously. But funny. And shit, who cares? Everybody's gotta eat! Check out some of the boarding, though, double flips and 1260s. Pretty bananas.

Video bros Justin and Gary.

I know, you think it's Chamonix, right? It's just the top of the lift at Buttermilk.

Fawn-skin seat covers at a mansion that Target rented. As a vegetarian I do not approve. That bro is about to tell me, "No Photos!!"

Another pretty picture from the plane window the other day. Mt. Hood, ain't she lovely?

Cousteau at PDX

Hello. How are you? I'm at the Portland airport sitting in a pool of sunshine reading about Jacques Cousteau. Things could be worse. About Cousteau: "He didn't particularly care about money as long as he had enough, and his chief financial tactic was simply going out and getting more cash when he ran out." That's good style. He was down for living only in the now—no rehashing things past or backward-looking. "The road to paradise is paradise," he said, quoting an old Spanish proverb.

Anyway, off to Aspen in 53 minutes, and officially "on assignment." Over and out....