🇴🇲🇮🇳 Heat

Hello Adventurers, 

Marathoning has taught me that everything is preparation for something else...even if unbeknownst to me at the time. And while this is an inane-sounding statement, I know it to be true (and powerful)…despite the fact that some learnings aren’t apparent in the moment (i.e. they take time to reveal themselves). Said another way, enduring adversity builds capacity…and this is felt when you’re humbly surprised — somewhere down the line — by new capabilities you didn’t know you had developed (which reveal themselves in situations — or scenarios — you’d previously be incapable of tolerating, let alone overcoming).

Case in point: heat. Malta’s variety kicked my ass last month; being a heat that’s humid and hellish via inescapable sun rays (i.e. a damning duo that collaborated to render me ill)…then I departed for Andalusia’s dry boiler which slow cooked me…before I found myself in the brain-wilting mugginess of the Middle East. And now? Well, I’m in steamy Asia…where I have physically acclimated…which is good…but ‘acclimating’ never says much about the state of one’s mind (which high temperatures of any sort can warp). And my mind right now? It’s somehow locked and loaded…and has evolved to be flame retardant; able to extinguish hot thoughts…being unwanted spam that enters the inbox of my mind (which happens with frequency ‘cause it’s like my 35th day of 35°C+ temperatures).

I knew this month would be trying — and it has been — but I’ve somehow retained my marbles…which feels like a miracle. And I don’t know if practice makes perfect…but practice sure seems to make imperfect conditions perfectly tolerable. So, if you’re doing something hard then plz keep going…because it is only in the ‘doing’ that we become greater than we ever thought was possible.

Anyhoo, the title of this issue of the newsletter is an ode to Michael Mann’s cult classic film of the same name, and the subtitle references a line of iconic dialogue from it. That flick has nothing to do with temperature, and everything to do with action…and cities burning with liveliness are my type of juice. My single marathon in Muscat last weekend wasn’t action-packed…but my four marathons in Mumbai this week were…as will be all upcoming marathons elsewhere in Asia (well, if the cities match what I imagine them to be). So let’s get into it…being some heated action,

- Ben Pobjoy

P.S. I would like to wish my wife Christine a ‘happy fourth wedding anniversary.’ Me being abroad during this milestone represents just another one of her many sacrifices this year…and while I am currently in Thailand, I am also in the doghouse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Lastly, the ‘October Batch' of Pobjoy Postcards joined me on a Mumbai marathon this week before they were posted from India. Anecdotally, postcards aren't really a thing here...and the Mumbai General Post Office is the only place that sells official ones...and it is under renovation...and is 120,000 square feet in size...and finding the dude there in the one room with the postcards is a mission...and then I bought stamps from another post office...and the 80 year-old worker there who sold me the stamps put them on a table under a ceiling fan...and they blew everywhere...and each postcard needed 6-8 stamps...and you have to affix the stamps to the postcards with glob-y wheat paste which is so messy...and the whole experience is basically India in a nutshell. Anyhoo, if you want to receive a monthly, one-of-a-kind handwritten postcard from me on my Marathon Earth Challenge, you can subscribe here.

2023 TREK TRACKER

Where in the world...record am I?

• Countries visited: 64

• Flights taken: 66

• Kilometres flown: 97,082

• Marathons completed: 198

• Kilometres trekked by foot: 9,397.5

• Total kilometres trekked since 2015: 72,489

RAPID WEEKLY RECAP

A speedy synopsis for time-crunched readers

• The Wildest Thing: In Muscat I used the Apple Wallet on my smartphone to pay for goods in a grocery store...and this method of digital payment amazed a guy who was behind me in line (like, he stopped me afterwards and asked me to explain how this transactional technology works). I don't mention this to sound 'first world smug.' Rather, it's just a personal reminder about how privileged I am, easy I have it, and how I can move through the world in a largely frictionless manner (and cannot ever take this for granted)🤔

• The Biggest Obstacle: The Prime Minister of Canada recently alleged that agents of the Indian state assassinated an Indo-Canadian Sikh separatist leader on Canadian soil earlier this year. The Prime Minister of India strongly denied these allegations, and the Government of India retaliated by suspending visa services for Canadian citizens (who require a visa to travel to India). This diplomatic spat played out while I was on the road...and from Europe I applied for an Indian visa as a British citizen (while stating on the application form that I am a dual citizen)...and I got the Indian visa (major phew)...but had persistent anxiety en route to India that I could still be denied entry into the country at Mumbai airport’s passport control🥵

• The Lesson Learned: Nearly 10 years ago my younger / taller / smarter brother started to persistently pester me about getting my British Citizenship...which I had been dragging my Canadian ass on obtaining. I eventually applied at his insistence — which wasn't that hard to do nor even that costly...it was mostly just time consuming because I had to order a bunch of documents for the submission packet (e.g. my long form birth certificate, my parents' long form marriage certificate, etc.) — and getting this second citizenship / passport has been a game changer these past eight years (most recently providing me with a 'work around' concerning the ongoing Canadian / Indian diplomatic spat). The short of it? If you're in a position to obtain a second citizenship, I highly encourage you to do so. Why? Well, having two passports gives me peace of mind on the road (like, I have a 'back up' passport if I lose the other passport), multiple passports means I can avoid some restrictions / visa applications (e.g. I’m using my UK passport to travel to Vietnam sans need of visa next week), and because certain Arab countries will refuse entry to those who have an Israeli stamp in their passport (so only one of my passports has Israeli stamps in it)🫡

FIELD NOTES: OMAN, MUSCAT

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

I didn’t randomly throw a dart at Muscat on a map…but my need for inexpensive accommodations (being a project-wide thing) determined where I stayed there, and that just so happened to be in the Al Azaiba South neighbourhood; the one beside the Ghala Industrial Estate, the one removed from the coast by dividing highway, and the one approximately 25 kilometres away from Muttrah and Old Muscat (both of which contain all the things one would hope to see when visiting Muscat). And it’s embarrassing to admit, but I only discovered this upon all-aviation, non-NFL touchdown in Oman…and I’m not mad about it because I only have myself to blame / I have been blessed by sheer luck to have generally struck gold in like 97% of the places I’ve visited on the Marathon Earth Challenge thus far.

So in Muscat — for me at least — there was no souk, no pier, no Riyam Censer, no fort, and no scenic view of earthlings down below from the Alwalja Mountain ridge…but they’ll be there for you should you go!

Yes, I could’ve cabbed to these things — or taken much longer public transit rides — but such isn’t in the spirit of this project / I gotta be mindful of costs and expenses. Plus, when things don’t go as envisioned — note that I can’t say ‘go as planned’ because my dumb ass honestly didn’t plan shit re: Oman — the onus is on me to just make things work on the fly. And such is the fun — as well as the play — associated with this project. Furthermore, when I find myself afar from things loud and lively — like when I’m in quieter / objectively boring parts — it forces me to be attuned as well as sensitive to more subtle and nuanced things. And while I didn’t see the architectural / coastal / mountainous beauty that Muscat is known for, I did get a crash course in how beautiful the people and the culture are…and IMHO I think that’s vastly more interesting anyway (and truly not said to save face…which I have egg on).

Basically — and totally said with all due respect — I was in a dead zone area of Muscat that was nothing more than 15 or so mid-storey high-rises interspersed with sand lots…which were collectively enveloped by sand as far as the eye could see…because this is the desert after all.

And despite me starting my marathon in Muscat on a Saturday night, I personally had to make things super boring / practical…by doing a feasibility test to see if I could get to the airport by foot; done because there didn’t appear to be public transit around me / were no cabs to be seen (and because the highway leads to the airport…and I needed to determine whether I could trek its shoulder without danger or getting arrested). So, to and fro the airport I went by marathon…the day before I had to go to the airport to fly-out, LOL.

I was prepared for total nothingness — like, this marathon was a feasibility test after all — but I was nevertheless graced with lots of goodness. How so? Well, en route to the airport I passed small groups of men — anywhere from four to eight of them — sat on Persian-style woven carpets in the desert (or by the side of the road) socializing in the dark near a parked vehicle as they enjoyed the cooler evening breeze, tea from a communal thermos, and one another immensely.

I wasn’t just struct by their stark white attire — being a kummah head cap atop a dishdashah robe (which Omanis take very seriously) — but by how present they were with another; everyone was deep in shared conversations and very much engaged. Yes, there were cellphones in sight…but they were off to the side…as they should be…like, in any gathering anywhere in the world (which was a great reminder to my phone-addicted self).

And I dunno…just seeing these wholesome group scenes — which felt so painterly under the amber hues of sodium vapour streetlights dotting the roads through the expanse of the desert — it felt so richly old-fashioned and pure. Furthermore, it was sooo rad to see people making their own scene in the middle of nowhere…away from things like entertainment-on-tap bars and clubs and cafés and whatever else. Drinking alcohol is haram in Islam (yet total social lubricant in many other cultures), and…dunno…I just saw a lot of clarity / in the moment-ness in the very human moments I observed in Oman, and it was sobering with regards to things like conduct and comportment and connection.

After I made it to the airport by foot sans problem, I returned to my digs using more of a coastline route, and along some beach-y parts I saw pairs of Omanis playing their traditional Hawalis game (in the sand, and with what looked like found stones and seashells). Again, concentration and connectedness was on display.

And in the last few kilometres of my marathon, I passed the majestic Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque — which can accommodate 20,000 worshippers — seen from a quiet road that I had all to myself…as I appreciated the minarets as well as the geometrically-patterned dome…and saw some baby palm trees (being something I’ve never seen before) on the manicured grounds of the mosque.

Looking in from the outside, it may seem like my time in Oman was a big bust…but I was there in the desert, and will remember the small moments I saw with a lot of fondness.

*Please note that passport control at Muscat International Airport is slow at entry as well as at exit. I recommend showing up to the airport no less than three hours before your flight.

FIELD NOTES: MUMBAI, INDIA

Everything at once

Mumbai is akin to a multi-sensory strobe light; not necessarily flickering between light and dark (as in good and bad), but flickering between things that are complete opposites of one another…simultaneously and in real-time. And I don’t even know where to start, but I’ll try; geographically Mumbai is a small appendage dangling out into the Arabian Sea with one of the biggest metropolitan populations on the planet (the number being somewhere north of 21 ish million people). And to add context for Toronto readers, Mumbai is 603.4 square kilometres in size to Toronto’s 630.2 square kilometres…so just imagine the total difference in human / traffic density.

All I can really say, is that every second — as well as every step — of my four Mumbai marathons were action-packed as I dodged cars, rickshaws, buses, motorbikes, scooters, festival floats, pushcarts, fireworks…and of course people…who were either walking, working, sleeping on all surfaces or disabled and thus wheeled into the road on makeshift carts to solicit donations. Oh, and there’s also cats, dogs, bats, some goats, a terrifying amount of rats, and the occasional sacred cow in the aforementioned mix. And lots of honking and beeping by way of vehicles, and much cawing from the hundreds of thousands of crows that circle above the city as they ride on air currents.

The streets here are alive — so much so that countless people live on them — and my time on them…like, if you can believe it…wasn’t necessarily high-octane thrilling, but more so awing as I observed the informal systems and flowing functionality that have taken root in such a crowded place defined by laissez-faire laxity. Basically, Mumbai just operates in a totally unique way; from how humans move to how work gets done to how every piece of public space is a parcel to exploit for someone’s personal benefit (be it financial or survival or a combination of the two).

Before I proceed, it is important that I acknowledge that Mumbai is a major financial centre with the associated wealth and malls and fine dining and skyscrapers and yada yada…but I stuck to the streets…and saw what I saw (which wasn’t the hoity-toity stuff). Anyhoo, the abundance is there, and what I’m sharing herein is just one surface of a dimensionally prismatic place.

Mumbai has major roads and thoroughfares that I utilized outta navigational convenience for many of my marathons, but detouring through its many warrens added much more depth to my overall experience; especially when I trekked through pockets known for certain industries; like the open-air laundromat pictured above (where garments were being washed at ground-level and then hung to dry on rooftops).

The industriousness — as well as the innovativeness — of Mumbaikars is real…and it feels like everyone is working on every surface; roti dough is rolled on pieces of tile on the sidewalk, everything is being washed on tubs on sidewalks, baskets are being woven from reeds, sugarcane is clamped by bare feet as its stripped, etc. The work happens out in the streets, and lends much to Mumbai feeling like a 24/7 hive of activity.

Faith is a fixture in Mumbai, and the people span Hindus to Muslims to Jains to Parsees to Roman Catholics to Christians to beyond...so shrines and temples and mosques and churches are everywhere (and define a lot of neighbourhoods which revolve around a certain faith).

Short of being in Belfast, I’ve never been asked, “What are you?” more than my time in Mumbai…and I told everyone I was Welsh and believed in dragons (because I travelled here on my United Kingdom passport because of the on-going diplomatic spat between Canada and India…and I didn’t want anyone to rat me out to the authorities for being Canadian). Furthermore, I’ve never been extended more invitations to enter places of worship than in Mumbai; the warmth and hospitality is seriously indescribable.

Anyhoo, I just happened to be in Mumbai during Vijayadashami, and it was such a gift to show up during a bumping Hindu festival where people were lighting fireworks, celebrating / dancing in the streets via roaming musical floats (pictured below…and which perform music at deafening volumes).

I saw so many joyful Hindu scenes / total harmony amongst people of different faiths that it was hard to square Modi and the BJP’s hold over India’s political landscape. Basically, India is currently ruled by right-wing, Hindu nationalists (akin to nationalistic American conservative evangelicals…yes, the faiths are different but the aims are largely the same) and there’s growing sectarianism and encroachments, and I know this is real (and something worrisome confirmed by my Airbnb hosts who are a part of a religious minority), and man it’s such a shame because the mix — and the melting pot — is what makes Mumbai so spicy and tasty.

Early Rock ‘n’ Roll music owes much to the African-American music that predated it (be it rhythm and blues, jazz, gospel, etc.). And generally, black culture is increasingly getting its dues for such (and righty so…despite the estates of many pioneering black artists now suing labels / publishers for retroactive royalties based on the original contracts being so usurious and discriminatory).

However, one thing that struck me as I marathoned Mumbai — literally through thousands of people singing and drumming and jamming — is how India (as well as the Indian diaspora) seems to get way less props for its influence on some of Rock’s other major inflection points; being the rise of psychedelic music in the 1960s proceeded by the rise of Prog Rock in the 1970s.

Anyway, I heard lots of rhythmic nuggets as well as synthesizer noodling that was psychy and proggy…and just another thing jacked by foreigners from the people in these parts.

Lastly, the ‘musical float’ scene in Mumbai during Hindu festivities is wild; nothing but hundreds (if not thousands) of moving, micro concerts on the go where you got the crowd dancing out in the front, marching drummers / horn players in the middle, some trolley with raised drummers / synth players / the sound system behind that, and all of this often followed by a truck with a diesel generator powering everything (the extension cords of which are constantly moved by ‘road crew dudes’ so the power / show doesn’t cut out). It was so DIY — and punk as fuck — as people were doing this all in the middle of traffic (where many were dancing barefooted…and yo, lots of Mumbaikars were barefooted everywhere and every day; by choice or due to poverty…but city-wide they really do like to let their doggies breathe).

Mumbai at night is fucking amazing, and the way the Gateway of India, the Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus, and the Taj Mahal Palace (pictured above) are lit up by light warrants nocturnal visits. The architecture is stunning and the range of colours are just the best. It is grandeur…and starkly contrasts the slums here. Say what?

Well, at the insistence of my local Airbnb hosts, I did marathon through Dharavi (pictured below…which Slumdog Millionaire was filmed in)…and it is one of the world’s largest slums (i.e. a million people live in just 2.39 square kilometres). I could write about its existential ecosystem beside a fetid waterway on the brink of ecological collapse…but you can get all that from the hyperlink in this paragraph. Instead, I just want to shine a light on a teen there who was smoking some weed who asked me if I wanted to hit his doobie; being just another example of — how on my travels — those with the least are often the most generous and sharing (it’s always the wealthy who are the hoarders, bb).

While I didn’t smoke the weed, I’m gonna end this passage on a high note ‘bout all the random stuff I loved about Mumbai and Mumbaikars (in order to nudge you to visit); props to the millions o’ moustaches here remaining in vogue, Hindi is a beautiful-looking script, the sign painting here is tops, the waft of cardamon and the incense in the air everywhere is near magical, everyone is a jaywalking pro (and I learnt lots from them), pedestrians here run the road (and you can walk on everything including highways…if you’re game), the floral garlands are non-stop beautiful, everyone was super nice to me / I posed for lots of photos with locals, the wobble head’ing is ace, I had no difficulties or problems whatsoever (which defies the law of averages since no one tried to run game on me), and I honestly didn’t know what was happening most of the time…and just going with the flow was a total blast.

Most importantly, Mumbai kept my personal / cultural norms ‘in check’ — as I observed modes of living that differ from my own — and while I believe some things to be universally true, it reminded me that there’s lots of different ways to approach life and living (and thus why it’s important to always be open-minded as well as compassionate and empathetic).

BEST LOCAL THING-Y

I typically use this section to highlight food…but I gotta abandon that this week because my Airbnb in Oman had a massage chair (and it was a total godsend…so all praise be to the geolocked Allah there).

Unsurprisingly, the Marathon Earth Challenge has rendered me stiff-as-steel — and I haven’t had a proper massage in years — so having access to a massage chair last weekend was pretty rad…even if the ‘one size fits all’ aspect of it wasn’t totally conducive to my bony frame. Basically, small victories put a lot of wind in my sails these days…and this was just a pleasant surprise (even if just a novelty).

Furthermore, I didn’t eat much local food in India…which probably seems like a ‘miss’ from the outside looking in…but I had to prioritize eating balanced and nutritious meals because of what I’m asking of my body. Yes, I would’ve loved to have eaten massive dosas or piles of greasy samosas from street vendors here, but Seeds of Life as well as Greenr (both in Bandra West, the neighbourhood where I stayed) became my go-to’s…because all their meals were light and healthy as well as packed with vegetables and proteins and excitingly new-to-me flavours (and these dine-in meals were only like $8 USD a pop from casual restaurants with great service).

I didn’t get to eat my way through India, and that’s just cause for a future trip because the vegan food here is second to none…but is second to a massage chair (when one is nearing their 200th marathon within a span of 300 days).

POBJOY'S GLOBAL PRICE INDEX

This is an on-going documentation of how much things cost in different places around the world. Here are some of the things I bought in Muscat and Mumbai (all prices converted to USD):

• A ‘single load’ 110 gram box of powdered laundry detergent, a 340 gram bag of granola cereal, a 1 litre carton of vanilla soy milk, two 1.5 litres of bottled water, four 330 millilitre cans of Coke Zero, four apples, four bananas, and five 77 gram packs of instant noodles from a grocery store in Muscat: $16.81

• A 10 kilometre-long Uber ride from the Mumbai airport to my Airbnb in Bandra West with airport surcharge and tip: $3.88

• A one litre bottle of water from any vendor in Mumbai: 24¢

MARATHON MUSINGS

Coming clean on my dirt

Why does it seem like the stuff we enjoy most is often the stuff that leaves us feeling the lousiest? For me, it’s the guilt-inducing, hard-to-justify crap like caffeine, nicotine and/or sugar. And, if you can believe it…travel. For instance, flying doesn’t necessarily leave me feeling physically wrecked — despite jet lag becoming more draining the older I get— it’s more so the impact and implications associated with how I travel (that weighs on me most).

Like, travel for leisure is a privilege unknown to many on the planet…and this year of jet setting is complete tomfoolery / luxury / money incineration known to even fewer blowhards. And this isn’t me boasting ‘bout costs and expenses, it’s me acknowledging how self-serving and selfish this project is…like, I could’ve done more collective social good chucking this project’s budget at needier causes, communities, and charities (like, if I weren’t so greedy and me-me-me in my desire for IRL experiences). Look, I’m just calling it as it is / I’m not proud of this admission.

Flying? It’s terrible for the environment, and yet I’ve flown nearly 100,000 kilometres this year…even though I’m someone who considers themselves to be environmentally-minded (but in reality — I guess — I’m not…but I am vegan, so at least I’m full of compost rather than bullshit…but same thing). And then — on top of that — there’s me parachuting into the occasional place that’s full of hardship with my camera to go make photographs (which is a silly hobby….it’s not like I’m a photojournalist doing noble work for a democracy-strengthening news organization).

Nevertheless, my photography is documentary (and something with a tiny amount of value if shared with my tiny amount of followers…done to expand our perspectives)…but marathoning Mumbai really made me wonder if my ‘angle’ is just voyeurism (being an exploit drizzled on top of an already luxurious project…where I’m both dickhead and asshole).

And I’m not moaning or complaining or woe is me-ing or crying crocodile tears or seeking pity (the latter would be moronic), More so, I’m just taking stock, doing inventory, and examining my self and my inconsistencies.

Contradictions are hard to justify, because you’re sorta trying to rationalize something you know — or feel — to be irrational, wrong or just in the grey area of ethics and morality. And my type of travel — where I often marathon through the real and the raw — is something I struggle to square; it’s as bon vivant as it is bad / bad boi.

That said, I travel because I believe in the value of intimate cultural exchanges and one-on-one dialogue with people the world over (which IMHO fosters a deeper understanding of both earth and earthlings). Furthermore, I like to see things in the flesh and form my own observations / draw my own conclusions…not receive analogues of such that are processed, simplified and/or hot take’d by an algorithm, headline, tweet or whatever else. And yo, I’m just a rolling stone at heart and the world is my muse and travel for me is the funnest…and that superficial shit is part of it too.

But man, Mumbai…it had the filth, the pollution, the dire poverty, and the scars of colonialism…things I temporarily observed before I extricated myself to go elsewhere (as I left others behind in the crucible…whom I did nothing to help). Like, I’m not naive / white knight enough to think one person can make structural improvements — across a few days of a single visit — that improve life for a nation of a billion plus people. But…I didn’t do jack shit either.

Like, I saw generations of families living rough on patches of dirt beside busy roads, I saw soiled toddlers in t-shirts / pant-less / no nappies standing shoeless on sidewalks, I saw two dudes do a wellness check on a seemingly lifeless body splayed out on a sidewalk, I saw people sleeping at night on the pushcarts they push by day, I saw waterways full of trash and sewage that people were bathing in (and doing laundry in), I saw lots of child labour, and even saw this little street urchin who’d nicked something from a vendor get detained by said vendor (who bound the kid’s hands with twine then chucked him into some room off of the street before the door was slammed shut). There’s lots more I could list but you get the point. Furthermore, there’s way more to Mumbai too…it is also a place full of joy and happiness and gains — so I cannot be irresponsible nor inaccurate, and present it as fully being something out of a Dickens novel (like, to overly focus on the shadows — without acknowledging the light — would be quite racist and classist TBH).

Dunno…I guess I’m just sharing this to get it off of my chest and/or as a writ apologia. If anything, my time in India served as another reminder that I gotta package up this project — when completed — to be something I can monetize (by writing a book or doing public talks) which raise funds / do some social good (so that this project benefits — even if just in a small way — something other than myself). If not, then this whole project is sorta hard to justify; me moving through the world, and not doing a damn thing to help move the world forward.

Everything is preparation for something else…and in this instance, it’s a public pledge to parlay this project to serve a greater purpose other than my own when it wraps. And yes, plz do hold me accountable to this stated commitment.

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