How to Watch a Bollywood Movie

Bollywood is one of the best kept secrets of the Orient. It’s India’s own Hollywood. The multibillion dollar Indian filmmaking industry has been turning out original cinema since the mid-30s but is distantly non-western. Modern Bollywood films have been accused of going western but the very nature of Indian films can’t possibly allow such alterations. There’s no easing into it, you get dunked and you get wet and you wonder what on earth just happened. I’ll pass on a few tips I’ve picked up since arriving in Pakistan.

Dig in deep. The movies are always about an hour too long. Accept it and bring as many snacks and beverages you will need to cover the length of time.

Expect dancing. Dancing is to Bollywood what thunder is to thunderstorms; it’s mandatory, frequent and intense. In a perfectly serious moment characters will break into a wild dance routine. The main characters change clothes and location randomly singing though a crazy song for up to 8 minutes in completely implausible situations. Central to a film is the “item number” where a very hot chick performs (for lack of a better word) a very sexy dance; both the chick and number having nothing to do with the film! Rarely does the dancing have anything to do with the story, it’s simply the trademark to Bollywood and it’s really the best part of the movies! Bollywood stars such as Shahrukh Khan and Aishwarya Rai are hugely successful like George Cloony and Angelina Joli, except Khan and Rai can dance, really dance.

Look for crazy plots. Bollywood produces drama but the majority of films are dancing comedic musicals. They’re meant to be funny, and to reach the biggest box office numbers possible and average over 10 million a flick. The movies are very colorful from the outfits to the settings. The dances are choreographed so all the girls will be wearing blue and the guys yellow and the colors often set the mood of the scene. Most the films are in Hindi with English subtitles but English being the cool man's lingo, is thrown in randomly.

Be grateful for morals. Bollywood prohibits kissing so there’s rarely innuendo and the worst you’ll see is a big hug after a hugely emotional scene. Clubs and discos are favorite setting for dance sequences, but that’s about it for the drinking/partying. Albeit, India is a Hindu culture so there is the caste system but the films like to play up the best of India and are distinctly modern. They’re hopeful films, in keeping with the younger Indian belief that the future is bright before India.

Don’t call it cheesy. Bollywood films are never cheesy. They can be crazy, the story may be improbable, the dances can be far fetched, the girls are always knock-outs and it’s too long but hey! You don’t find it just anywhere so appreciate the differences and no whinging.

How an English Accent goes Further

Another thing I've learned from my extensive travels in bizarre parts of the world is that the English accent reigns. We’re not speaking of the Irish, Scottish or any other twisted sounds from that little island. We are speaking of BBC English (although Posh and Becks have lowered the standard). It's globally recognized as the most attractive, the most desirable and the most coveted way to speak. Take a look at the lineup of British faces in Hollywood who are drooled over every time they open their mouths.

If you ever get the hang of faking it, do use it. Americans are not the most popular people and it’s better to associate yourself with another location. The British aren’t typically very popular either but that’s okay, they’re just quirky and are allowed to be quirky, or so the feeling goes. At any rate their accent is legendary for its charm and appeal and also easily confused with Australian, and Southern Africa accents. In South Africa, Zimbabwe, Kenya and Zambia, I was just another white African. Also, children in schools in Kenya to China learn British English in schools so they are familiar with that flavor of English (even though everyone watches American TV). Either way, my time tested belief is that an English accent gets you further because 1) I have to repeat myself much less. 2) I get so much more respect. 3) I don’t get asked very loudly in awkward situations if I’m American.

Now I tell people I’m from Zimbabwe, in some places being a loud American isn't the best thing and so while we don't lie, we learn to be quiet and blend it. I did come from Zimbabwe, it’s completely true and I am a newly converted rugby fan. And if changing an accent gets you further, do it!

How to Take a Self-Portrait

When I lived in France, I became aware of a popular new photography technique known as the self-portrait. Later, I met people who preferred the self-portrait to a normal photograph and would be hugely vexed if any other methods of photography were used. It's taken the world over by storm! I was intrigued and had to investigate this rising trend.

The self-portrait looks something like the following. An individual of any age or social-eco background takes a digital camera and extending the length of his arm, points it towards himself. Making any combination of queer, bizarre, strange and unnatural faces, he proceeds to press “the big button” and crystallizes the image of himself…himself. The face takes up most if not the entire photo. Clever self-portraitists will manage to get several friends in there with them. When this is done, many physical features such as ears and eyes will be missing off any number of the participants. That…is how it’s done. My "adopted sister" Livia and my sister Rose illustrate that well in the related photo.

There must be several reasons for the rise of the self portrait. First, with digital photography, you can simply delete the photos you don’t want. Indeed, one must take at least 10 self-portraits before finding a satisfying one. Second, with the rise of social networks such as Facebook and MySpace, the demand for photos of oneself has risen hugely. Naturally who is better to fill this demand then oneself. Third, you no longer need someone to be around to take photos of you. You can travel by yourself and get most the Eiffel Tower in your picture, half of Big Ben, a quarter of the Statue of Liberty. There is the drawback that the self-portrait allows maybe half an inch to maneuver the background into. I pity those who try Mount Rushmore.

How Online University Works

People continue to be amazed with the concept of online university which I have wholeheartedly dedicated myself to. “That must require so much discipline!” “How does that work?” “Do you have exams and stuff? ” “Do you like it?” Considering the wide range of people from all walks of life who are mystified, I'll enlighten on this concept.

Liberty University’s Distance Learning Program now exceed 25,000 students. My classmates are all ages in all sort of jobs, all over the United States. Students normally take 2 classes at a time, I typically do 3 because I’m doing it full time and I like being so busy I stress myself out. The classes are designed for people already working full time (many of my classmates are military) so while I find it intensive, I have time so it's not overwhelming.

Classes vary in content and organization. Most have discussion boards where we are required to write a set number of postings or essays for open debate with the rest of the class. This is an enjoyable part of DL as otherwise you start to feel isolated. Other classes I’ve taken have video lectures which I watch online. Some classes have lectures I download. There are typically a lot of PowerPoint presentations which I watch online giving outlines, directions or clarification for lessons. Some classes such as math or computers have assignments on the internet we have to take. Papers and homework are submitted via links in Liberty Blackboard and within a few weeks will be returned with the professors comments. Some classes have perpetual exams and quizzes, others you might simply have a mid-term and a final. Exams are timed and multiple choice located online which you take when you’re ready before the deadline. Others require you to write an essay in a set time to be manually graded, comments appearing in the comment box. There are few holiday as the classes correspond to 8 weeks term. I work through all public holidays with a week off in between terms which even run though the summer.

It’s not easy, that I have learned. There are deadlines and while you can work ahead, you can't afford to fall behind. DL allows me the opportunity to be cranky and irritable 24/7 because I don’t have to interact with people (excluding my family, I promise I’m nice to them). I don’t have to worry about what to wear, good hair, a date for parties and football games, being late for classes, loud roommates (my sister’s cool) and last but not least, graduation. When I’m finished LU will mail me my transcript, I might consider a non-alcoholic Pakistani beer and will move on to resident college life in the States. Life is sweet… (seriously, it is…)

How I ended up in Pakistan

In keeping with tradition, I’ll attempt to explain how I got to Islamabad. When I learned about it, I couldn’t keep Islamabad and Istanbul straight. It was hair brained and I felt very stupid but I knew the exact amount of information about both, zero. I learned not to tell people I was going to Islamabad because few people know where it is (I didn't either, that made two!). I didn't tell people I was going to Pakistan either because that sounds scary. I tried Asia. That sounds romantic, say it in a soothing voice…“I'm moving to Asia.” Less romantic when you try to explain why.

Originally, our family’s plan was to move back to Lusaka Zambia after our assignment in Harare Zimbabwe. But one thing happened, and then another, and my dad was offered a job with our same humanitarian organization in Pakistan. Our departure in Harare was entirely contingent on the arrival of the new country representative's paperwork. After 2 months waiting on the Zimbabwean government to process it, his visa came through. We left two weeks later, packing two Land Cruisers and driving the 6 hours back up to Lusaka. We had just under 3 weeks in Lusaka which we turned around and packed our belongings in a 40 foot container for Pakistan (the same time I started a challenging new college term, everything was bad timing). By 29 March, we had left Africa, our home of 7 years behind.

Pakistan two weeks into it is great. The food is great, people are kind, and the weather this time of year lovely. Islamabad is a bubble laid out on a grid; the city is divided into sectors, there’s a great shopping center in Sector F7-6. You have to be careful, keep a low profile and be culturally sensitive but security isn't paramount. Friends back in Africa who have previously lived in Pakistan or have traveled in the area are green with envy because it's a lovely city with a vibrant culture. “You’re going to love it, you’re going to love it…” I’ve been told, and so I will. A Pizza Hut, French cheeses, broadband, so far the quality of life is better then my previous 7 years in Africa.

I'm feeling quite blessed and content! (And Bollywood music and movies are just awesome!)

How Packing Can be a Delight

Packing, as I've stated befor, is not a delight. It brings tears separating for extended lengths of time from one’s beloved shoes and more importantly, one’s guitar and one’s favorite pillow. Yet I live with three boys, my little brothers, who discovered that packing supplies make great supplies with which to play with. So therefore, I merely post the pictures as they speak for themselves in their amusement and the humor with which my brothers found the cardboard useful.





Volia! Amusant n'est pas? Come on! If you can't laugh, it's only one big hairball of stress stuck right in your throat, right there so you can't quite reach down and pick it out. Yea that was gross, which is what packing without laughing becomes.

How I Made it All Fit

I think I love packing and moving. This obviously means I need counseling. Recently I rediscovered, as I always do sooner or later, that I’m really deceiving myself. I hate it packing. I hate staring at a suitcase and realizing that a computer bag and piece of decaying plastic hold all my earthly possessions of meaning and value. That piece of plastic sits open on my floor, and I’m forced to decide what clothes and books are going to define me for the upcoming…week…month…6 months…year… I hate it because, as always, it doesn’t fit but I try to make it and it doesn’t so I scream and it still doesn’t fit. So the cutting down happens; less books, fewer shoes.

I have learned several golden rules of packing. One, don’t pack the bag so you can’t lift it. I learned the importance of this when I couldn’t lift my own bag off the conveyer belt. You must, in all logical consistency be able to lift your luggage because…well…you’ve got to move it.

Second, don’t go overweight. The airline people are watching like hawks for foolish travelers trying to smuggle several extra kilos in their bag. If anything, you don’t wait to look like a dumb traveler when you strew your belongings over the airport floor in an effort to rearrange. I was one of those dumb travelers once (not this time, thankfully) and believe me, you feel extremely self-conscience baring the substance in your suitcases before hundreds of people pouring pity upon you for your idiotic lack of foresight. And while we’re at it, don’t forget the liquids ban. It may be old news but I had to make that mistake and ended up in Southern Africa without my toiletries. I was mad. I recall being angered to tears because…well…who wants to travel without toothpaste. Yuck. I do know a kid who tried to smuggle a machete in his carry-on, he was an MK and security was so amused they let him through after confiscating the “toy."

This time getting to Islamabad, I did make it fit. I have to be proud of myself because as always, I didn’t think I would but it finally did, and I’m sure, I still need counseling.