Ten Things Mike Learned on Tanna

The following is lovely, and copied directly from Mike's site. But what you won't find there is this TRAVELMONKEYS exclusive picture, taken by Mike, of the man who came to New York City and now tells stories in his homeland of this strange otherworld--not unlike what Mike will be doing for us once he returns to the States.

TEN THINGS I LEARNED ON TANNA:

—If someone tells you the reef is "flowering", it means it has neurotoxins that roll your heartrate down to 30 beats a minute and then kills you. Also, when people call a place "Shark Bay" it is not figurative—it means there are many sharks, which you can see from the shore.

—Kava is prepared by the plant being chewed by prepubescent boys, and then the pulpy mess is spat in a bowl, which is mixed with questionable water and then drunk. It tastes much like this description would imply.

—When the volcano explodes, you can see the shockwaves in the air rushing toward you in the moment before it strikes you, and then the sound that follows. It is like God has punched you, or His hand is bursting up through the earth.

—The John Frum celebrations are long: this year's lasted nine hours, with a dinner break in the middle...from morning until nearly dusk. They act out scenes, a kind of living theater, with history of the island, America and other sources intermingled into a tremendous soap opera.

—The many pieces of molten lava bursting from the volcano are the size of refrigerators and Volkswagon bugs. If one hits you the size won't be the issue, or even fire...the heat is so intense that you would disintegrate. This has happened to visitors recently.

—The Friday night celebrations, when the John Frum dance and sing all night til dawn under the deep night sky reflecting off Sulphur Bay, lit by the red glow of the volcano standing above the village like an angry God, is unforgettable. This I will carry to my grave.

—When hunting a wild pig for dinner, you have to strike the pig solidly on the side of the head to knock them down, and then beat them with the pole until dead or dazed...then someone will slit the throat and finish the job.

—A villager showed me his sacred Snoop Dogg amulet, I met people who worship Prince Philip of England as a risen god, and I talked with a man who had been taken by a documentary crew to New York City. He told me what he dreamed about, and the whole village sat together in silence, everyone naked except for penis sheaths and stone-age implements, listening to his stories of an alien land.

—I spent a day with students at a school without water or power, where every book is a rare blessing...but confounding expectation, one out of every four had a cell phone. They charge them with solar chargers, like to play snake, and IM their friends to get together.

—I learned a tremendous amount, made some lasting friendships, and reached across worlds just a bit. When I think about how alien this place seemed just weeks ago to me, I am surprised at my ignorance. It is an excellent lesson, and I am already missing this mysterious, primal island that has helped me a little to see our ordinary world in a new light.

Tonight.

The Surprise

This is Martin. This was taken during a rehearsal break. Lucy is his dog, but we also like to pretend she's the stage manager. She's a terrible stage manager, by the way, always letting us get off-topic and extend our break times with the business of getting more tea.

Despite her shortcomings, the rehearsals are going well, and I am looking forward to our opening next week. I am always describing Martin as "smart and funny," which he is, but it occurred to me yesterday that another word that should be in there is kinetic. He really knows how to move, and he uses his entire body to tell his stories, every ounce of him vibrating with it.

We worked on a show about his travels in West Africa last spring. This time he's telling us about some surprising family news that came his way not too long ago. I don't want to say much more, but I will say that the news takes him to the temple of Angkor Wat and the jungles of Vietnam. It's a hell of a story. I hope you can come see it.

The Surprise is being presented as part of The NY Frigid Fest, and as such the performance schedule looks as random as if you were to play Battleship with a calendar:

Weds, 2/25 @ 9
Sat, 2/28 @ 5:30
Weds, 3/4 @ 7:30
Sat, 3/7 @ 4
Sun, 3/8 @ 8:30
at
The Kraine Theater
85 East 4th Street (between Bowery & 2nd Ave)
$15 tickets @ SmartTix; click here
or call 212-868-4444

Breaking News!

In a surprising turn of events, Mike discovered there was free wifi at the airport on Vila, the main island of Vanuatu from which he would take his final leg to Tanna after a 16-hour layover. Especially surprising, he said, since the airport looks like "a glorified hut."

He used the opportunity to send me some quick notes on the journey so far, which I will share in whole with you. He also sent two pictures of signs written in Bislama, the creole language that is spoken to varying degrees across Vanuatu and uses English as its base. As a fun exercise, try reading the signs--you'll understand more than you think.


Now, the notes from Mike:

--The people ululating once we came in sight of Port Vila far below, a few lights against the dark sea.

--The white couple and their black indentured servant, and how she hissed at him when he didn't pick up all their many bags fast enough.

--A really fine cup of coffee and a french pastry while overlooking the bay.

--Reading bislama EVERYWHERE.

--My talk with the Vanuatu Red Cross office...they revealed that Frumians of all kinds come and pay homage at the office, due to the red cross. They happened to be down the street--glad I stopped by.

--Incredible weather--I have had unbelievable heat followed by a torrential monsoon in just a few hours. I'm soaked. I bought a huge umbrella at the supermarket, which does indeed have an ATM.

--The signs on the main street of Port Vila, filled with crap of all kinds, that shout CARGO! CARGO HERE!

I can't wait for the rest of the story.

I will say that I got one more quick message, I think sent from the plane just before he took off:

My pilot has a big scar down his face, a milky eye AND a big knife. Not joking. Will try to get picture without getting stabbed.

Hopefully that's not the last missive I ever receive from him.

Beautiful British Columbia

Back when M and I were Seattle-dwellers, we'd cross the border to Canada anytime we needed a breath of Europea on a day-jobber's budget. Vancouver B.C. felt so . . . international. That was the word we always used, and that one word seemed to contain everything we couldn't find back in Seattle: rapid mass transit, enormous Hong Kong-styled dim sum eateries, a legal drinking age of 18, French, strip clubs that were more sexy than sleazy, foreign currency, and daily newspapers that would print the word "fuck."


We never performed there, but we always wanted to, and on the last trip we took there, back at the tail end of 2000, we spent the whole train ride home hatching a vivid and fanciful plan for our triumphant return.


Cut to nine years later, and we're performing in Portland, Oregon at the T:BA Festival, when a man who runs a performing arts festival in Vancouver comes to see our show. He really responds to the work, but of course it's too late to book us for this year's festival, and next year the city will be hosting the Olympics, which means that maybe we can talk about a booking for 2011?


And here's what I love about my M. He knows that 2011 is a lifetime away. Who knows where we'll be by then, or if we'll even be at all. He also knows we're already going to be in the Northwest for a different gig at the same time as the festival is happening. So really, there must be a way to make this work, right? And indeed, there was.


But it involved a number of compromises. The presenter told us that the space wasn't ideal. All the theaters were booked, so we'd be in their after-hours club. Also, we'd have no idea what our audience numbers would be like as there'd be no advance sales. We were told several times that this new club space was a big "experiment."

I read between the lines and told M we should expect about 30 in a house that could comfortably fit over 200. We put out 50 chairs and held our breath.


But they came! All these beautiful, smart, good-looking Canadians showed up and filled up all the seats we'd put out and more. We used up all the chairs, and filled up the cabaret tables and bar with standing room. The audience got Mike's humor immediately, and when the story demanded quiet, they quickly supplied it. It was a great night for live performance.


Afterwards, we caught up with an old friend, Dennis, who left the States after Bush was elected in 2000, married a nice Canadian girl, and is now a proud and happy father and game designer.


And the next morning, Mike did a live interview with a local television show. The host had actually watched a tape of Mike's performance in advance and then talked to him about his work for almost twenty minutes. This is notable because where we come from, artists are rarely treated as people who might have something to say that might be of interest to the general public. It was strange and wonderful and sad and nice all at the same time.


Then Mike delivered a fiery and funny and passionate and moving manifesto to the festival attendees. (Again, unusual to hear a keynote from an artist. O Canada, is all of you so wonderful?) And then we ate a bunch more food from the outstanding Granville Island Market: smoked Polish sausage and savory crepes and apples and Indian food and doughnuts and strawberries that we dipped into maple yogurt as we sat admiring the spectacular view.


On Monday, M leaves for his amazing island adventure, so it was nice to spend this time together in this place we'd always wanted to return to.

We will be back.

Seattle Snaps

Some snapshots taken with my mobile phone over the last week:


(in the lobby of the theater pre-show)


(doesn't my brother look like a rock star with his new 'do?)


(Lincoln Park)


(peeing dog)


(the beach below my parents' home, where kids are building a fort-like structure)


(Bakery Nouveau, and the remains of a twice-baked almond croissant)


(EZ Street records; cheap and plentiful breakfasts, and they know how to do hash browns right)

Kirkland: It's not just a Costco brand

I'm writing this from my parents' home in Seattle, looking out over beautiful Puget Sound while the sun, having momentarily freed itself from the morning's clouds, attempts to render my laptop screen unreadable. The dog is asleep on the couch behind me, saving up his strength for the long, leash-less walk in the park he knows we'll take later. Ah, Seattle.

We're not just here for a visit, though. This weekend we'll be performing two different shows at the Kirkland Performance Center. On Friday night will be our old favorite, "Monopoly!"--a tale of the sparring geniuses Tesla and Edison, rabbits with lasers, Bill Gates' ninjas, the history of the eponymous board game, and the growing creep of the Wal-Mart in Mike's hometown in Maine. We've performed this one at Bumbershoot and CHAC and Portland's TBA Festival, and will do it again in Vancouver B.C. on February 4. It's one of my favorites.

But I'm especially excited about Saturday night, when we'll do "Invincible Summer" for the first (and probably only) time on the west coast. I have always wanted to do this show in Seattle as it's about our move from here to New York, which happened to be the same summer those towers fell. It's also about the subway system, families falling apart and coming back together, Polish weddings and potato salad, and the vodka and cream puffs it takes to make both marriage and democracies work.

This is the same monologue that was so infamously interrupted by the student group in Boston whose adult chaperone couldn't handle Paris Hilton being insulted. (Watch that video here.)

If you're in the area, come join us. We'll have a good time together.

Oh! A bald eagle just flew by!


* * *

Coming Home is bronze sculpture by Stanley Bleifeld, located at Marina Park in Kirkland, Washington.

Pollos & Banditos

Hey! I got the slideshow from our trip to Mexico working. Click on the picture below for six minutes and twenty-two seconds of unadulterated nostalgia.


And remember to choose the "watch in high quality" option (you'll find that option to the bottom right of the image window).

January 2009 in Washington DC

The first time I came to DC was last July, when we had a run of "If You See Something..." at Woolly Mammoth. Though I fell in love with the theater (the audiences, the staff, the building) and was impressed by the city's scope and vitality, I had a hard time that trip.

For one thing, it was hot. Which severely limited my ability to walk around and see the sights, let alone do basic things like pick up groceries and do laundry without a considerable amount of whining.

For the second thing, the monologue was at a critical point in its development, and it was taking a lot of work to whip it into shape, which meant Mike would build it every night and then I would tear it apart every morning, and then we'd do it all again. At least, that's how the process started to feel to us, until we could hardly stand it anymore.

Finally, my grandmother was dying in the other Washington, which meant that whenever we weren't fighting over the monologue, I was a weepy mess. She ended up passing away while I was there, which meant I had to leave DC early to attend her funeral while Mike stayed behind to finish the run.

This trip went considerably better.

Nobody close to us died, the weather was tolerable, the performances and roundtables went swimmingly, and a fantastic new president was sworn in--one we actually believe in and whose campaign I've given money to, one who makes me proud to call myself an American. Talk about a happy start to a new year.


In the weeks leading up to the inauguration you could feel the collective good mood of the city rising and rising. Restaurants and bars extended their hours in recognition that the entire city would be playing host to this celebration.


My cousin Victoria (family nickname "Pepsi"--it's a long story) and her husband James came to town for the big event and got to see our show, too.

Unlike them, we didn't have inauguration tickets, but we did get invited to an arts leadership cocktail party on the eve of the inauguration, where we met up with fellow artists and neighbors from Brooklyn, Isaac and Ann. I'm not much of a schmoozer, but I do appreciate open bars and appetizers of enormous scallops with a light butternut squash and brown beurre sauce.


After the party we walked down to the mall and got much closer to the stage than we knew we'd be able to the next day.


The grounds were full of folks like us, everyone eager to help take pictures for one another, everyone jubilant and oh so hopeful.


Indeed, the following day we fought our way to (and through) the train station, checked our bags, then walked along the perimeter of the Capitol, hoping we might be able to hear our new president's speech even if we couldn't get close enough to see him on a jumbotron.


There were thousands of other people just like us, happy just to be close to the big event (and knowing we'd be able to watch it all on Hulu later).


After surveying our options, we sat down at the sunny base of a tree, had a little picnic, and people-watched until it was time to catch our train. One cop made a beeline toward us and I was afraid he was going to tell me that dogs weren't allowed in the area, but it turned out he just missed his dog back at home and wanted to scratch his head and say hello.


I still didn't see as much of the city as I would have liked this trip, but the great news is that we're going to be back in a year's time with a brand new piece. A piece that I'm very excited about and will be able to spill the beans on soon.

Until then, Happy New President Day to all of you.

New Year's Eve

Well, I was going to write a meditative post about New Year's resolutions and the desire for transformation and the formation of habit--but then we discovered that Baci ate a whole stocking's worth of chocolate and have been actively monitoring him for signs of toxic shock. (So if that entry sounded like a snooze, you can thank him for being spared it.)

Instead, I offer you a glimpse into our New Year's Eve, past and present. For the third time, we will be joining our friends Andy Secunda and Kate Hess (recently engaged, btw) for their annual Steakapalooza at Peter Luger's. If you're a carnivore, this is about as close to heaven as it gets.

I made a film of our hijinks there last year--click on the photo below, and remember to hit the "watch in high quality" tab unless you prefer fuzzy video to clear.


Happy New Year!

This Is Why I Left My Computer Behind

I could scream. I could swear and I could shout, but I have too much to do, so if you will just let me vent to you, I would greatly appreciate it.

I have so many wonderful pictures to share with you from our trip to the Yucatan that I decided to create a slide show. That was the fun part that I let myself overindulge in, time-wise--getting the music just right, the title sequences, etc. But then I had a problem when I exported it into a .mov file, so my dear husband graciously updated all my software in case it was a bug, and this took more time (time when we should have been cleaning and prepping for the 18 people who are going to be dining here on Christmas Eve), though it did fix the problem.

And then I had to upload it to YouTube, which took another hour, because it is a large file, and then yet more waiting, as they had to process it, only to find out that there were further problems: the audio was messed up, and the picture quality was crap.

But in for a penny, in for a pound, right? So I got an account with Vimeo, which is supposed to have superior image quality as compared to YouTube, and I set my computer to upload the file before I went to bed last night. I woke up this morning, so excited to see what it looks like, and guess what? "There was a problem converting this video! Please contact Vimeo help."

So now I realize that not only did I spend an entire evening (all told, probably six hours) on this, but I have also created a slide show that will only work if I show it to you in person, on my computer. Grrrr.

It's not a new story, I know. We've all gotten caught in technology time sinks. But it smarts all the same. If you have actually made it to the end of this long whine, I thank you for your time (time that could have been spent prepping for your big dinner/performance/party/exam) and offer you this: my favorite photo from our trip to the Yucatan.


More to follow in the old-school, reliable, TRAVELMONKEYS format.

Peace on Earth,
JM

We're Back from the Yucatan

And oh, there's so much I want to tell you.

I want to speak of the perfectly-sized waves and the soft white sand, of the spider monkeys who snuggled against us and searched our pockets for peanuts, of half-excavated Mayan ruins made only more beautiful by the jungle's encroachment, of crazy underground caverns filled with fresh water where one can backfloat while looking up at bats and stalactites, of singing geckos and basking iguanas, of living without electricity thirty feet from the water's edge (no lights, no internet, lots of candles, lots of books), of taquerias and Mexican sweet buns and papaya and pina and avocado avocado avocado.

And one day, soon, I will.

But first I must get my house and work in order. I must stock up my larder and purchase some firewood so we're ready for the six inches of snow that is rumored will hit New York tomorrow morning. And then, as a reward, I will allow myself to download the contents of my camera and begin some more in-depth posts about the trip.

In the meantime, Feliz Navidad, and thanks for not getting annoyed with me when I lapse into Spanish.

Vamos

Folks, I don't know how to tell you this, but the rumors are true.

We're going to Mexico.

Not permanently. Just for a few days. A little over a week. Closer to two weeks.

Twelve nights on the beach. Well, eleven on the beach and one in the interior, somewhere closer to Chichen Itza. Maybe Valladolid.

Even crazier? We're leaving behind our computers. And our iPhones. We're staying on the beach in a cabana with lots of candles and no electricity. We're bringing books. Paper. Pens. Playing cards. Sunblock.

Will we get bored? Oh, I hope so. It's been years.

Feliz Navidad, and we'll see you on the other side.

Thanksgiving 2008

Some pictures from our overland sojourn to Brick, New Jersey, to celebrate Thanksgiving with Mike's extended family at their amazingly huge house known as The Compound.

Well, not from the journey, actually, more like pictures once at the destination, but I'm trying to keep to the theme of TRAVELmonkeys and I didn't think to bore you with pictures of us while on New Jersey Transit. But I will say that at 45 minutes from Penn Station, it's a super-easy trip.


And New Jersey Transit is perfectly happy to transport well-behaved dogs (unlike those idiots at Amtrak), so Baci was able to join in the fun.


As promised, we played a LOT of Rock Band. Pictured above are Mike and Mary's cousins--Dave on the drums, Kris on the bass, and Kris's son, Conner, on the guitar.


And this is Kris's husband, Martin, and his dad (also Martin) DEEP-FRYING the turkey! I have been hearing about Americans burning down their decks/garages/homes using this dangerous method for the past five years, but after having tasted the results, I have to say: the risk is worth it. And it only took an hour to cook!


There were almost as many dogs as there were people. This is Pat, a friend of the family, with her dog Snickers, brother to the other dog, Sammy, who lives at The Compound year-round.


And this is Thelma. She and Baci hit it off immediately.


All the dogs stayed close to Aunt Angela, who was prone to THROWING MEAT at random.


The humans stayed close to her as well, because she was prone to THROWING 5 KINDS OF PIE and 3 KINDS OF STUFFING at us.


The next morning, even more family came to visit, including their Aunt Marianne and Uncle Cook. Uncle Cook's signature contribution is the sign, which he makes new for each family occasion and which they've been holding up in family photos since 1973.


All in all, a wonderful time with wonderful hosts and much, much to be thankful for.

New Obsession

Mike and I don't have a video camera. But our digital camera allows us to take little movies. We've been buying from the Canon family for a while, and the older versions made movies without sound and at 16 frames per second, lending the footage a choppy, Super 8 kind of feeling--instantly nostalgic. But our newest camera (a Canon SD1100 IS) and the models we've been using for the last couple years actually take pretty good footage.

I tell you all this because I just launched iMovie for the first time and have discovered how easy it is to turn that footage into highly watchable and sharable YouTube clips. Travelmonkeys Readers, take note: this could change everything.

For my first offering, I invite you to watch how I spent the bulk of my Thanksgiving holiday: playing Rock Band with my extended New Jersey family in Brick. Mike's sister joined us for the week and is featured here on vocals. Click on the picture below, and choose the "watch in high quality" option for best results.

Enjoy!