Primitive Travel Log

PIG ENGENDERS INTERNATIONAL GOOD WILL!

Glen — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 08:18:19 GMT

Upon returning from the sand and dust of Rajasthan, we found ourselves once again at the reception desk of the Imperial Hotel in New Delhi, a dignified, elegant enclave.

“Welcome back,” said Anil, true recognition in his voice.

He looked at our dusty, treasure-filled bags being carried into the lobby and spotted Pig riding shotgun on the lead bag. “Looks like Pig needs a bath,” he said as he handed me the room key and politely returned to his duties.

A little later, as we were getting situated in the room, there was a crisp knock on the door. The voice on the other side said, “We have a special delivery for a very special guest.” Opening the door, I found a basket filled with fragrant rose petals and a note from the hotel staff. It read: Dear Mr. Joffe, welcome back to the Imperial. The rose petals are for Pig’s bath. We hope she enjoys her flowery bath immensely.

A short while later, Pig was floating in a sea of intoxicating petals, exuberant, forgetting for the moment she is not a fan of baths.

Our buoyant conversation drifted into a discussion about the special planters and fountains we had just acquired for Primitive – beautiful objects made of marble and copper.

These were true handcrafted works of art, carefully considered by the artisans who created them. Each one undoubtedly gave the maker a real sense of pride and satisfaction. I started picturing planters sensitively carved in the shape of lotus petals; large vessels pounded into graceful forms big enough to hold trees; and the beautiful lines of fountains carved into engaging and delightful shapes. One even combined fire with water.

Pig brought me back to reality when she said, “Those things are just like this moment, dad.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“They’re about flowers, water, and true gratification,” she replied.

WHAT A SIGHT!

Glen — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 08:15:42 GMT

It was around midnight in Connaught Place, Delhi. We had arrived back in the capital city before our departure to Nepal the next morning.

Pig said, “Let’s explore.” And we all had learned to listen to her. Besides, we needed to find a place to eat.

Pausing by Palika Bazaar to discuss which way to go, Claudia was startled and surprised when she was nudged from behind by a real live elephant.

Can you imagine this? He wasn’t pushing her aside. He was saying hello and probably looking for food himself. Sitting atop the elephant was the “mahout,” his driver, friend and companion, who explained with a bright smile that they were simply passing through town on their way home. No more questions were asked, since the sight of a pachyderm in the middle of the city was enough.

As the giant animal slipped into the shadows and fog of Delhi’s night life, I looked over to Pig who reminded me you have to venture out to find the unexpected.

Then I realized, it’s just like going to Primitive.

JUST ANOTHER CASTLE?

Glen — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 08:01:15 GMT

We went to Fatepur Sikri (Fah-teh-purr Sick-ree), another example of Mughal architecture at its best, at the urging of Pig. She asked, “As long as we have traveled this far, shouldn’t we go just a little bit farther?”

So we visited this ancient fortress with its elephant stables, a master bedroom suite the size of a house with a stone bed elevated on giant pillars,and incredibly carved details everywhere. I couldn’t help asking myself why we were there.

Was this just another castle? Pig answered my question with another of her own, “Daddy, does this place remind you of anything special?” “Yes,” I replied. “All of the great carvings at Primitive.” “That’s right” she said. “I didn’t want you to forget that you’re never far from home.” It was Pig wisdom at its best.

So I suggested we go to Ellora, hoping to find something equally great . . . but all that was there was eye training.

Glen — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 11:16:14 GMT

AAfter the shock of finding Pig's ancestors at Ajanta, we made our way to the caves at Ellora. Like the Ajanta caves, these are rock cut masterpieces which completely boggle the mind. But none of Pig's relatives were visible in the ancestral traces which have survived for many centuries. There was instead, amazing carving and the unmistakable traces of people, long gone, who had taken over these caves and made them their homes. Monumental temples became living rooms, bed rooms and kitchens. The chambers where priests had once mesmerized the masses with rituals and dialogue had becolme parking places for goats and cows, hitching posts cut into the rock with complete disregard for the sacred space they were defaming. The floors had holes at intermittent spots because they had become vessels for grinding spices. However, despite the human disregard and irreverence, there was amazing carving that had survived. I looked for Pig's people in vain, but all I found was a healthy dose of eye training, and a reminder of the amazing carving available everyday at Primitive!

Pig leads us to a big surprise!

Glen — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 10:23:32 GMT

Pig surprised me when she asked; “Daddy, as long as we are in India could we visit the Ajanta caves?” I only knew of this place because we sell a beautiful coffee table book about the caves in the Five Elements Library at Primitive. So I said “yes,” and the next day we were on the road. First, we took a flight to Bombay, then another to Aurangabad, and finally a long drive to the village of Ajanta and the caves themselves.

I knew the caves because of the book. They are monasteries and temples carved deep into the sides of a rock gorge dating from 200 B.C. to 600 A.D. During their time, every single wall, ceiling, column, lintel and statue was painted with absolutely amazing, early Buddhist art. They endure as one of the oldest and finest examples of this art in the world. One of my nieces later admitted she thought we were going to look at stalactites and stalagmites, but she wasn’t the only one in for a surprise.

The caves are amazing, astounding, astonishing, breathtaking, engaging. You choose the adjective. There are 29 in all. What remains of the painting and sculpture inside is both dumbfounding and exhilarating. How could any group sustain this kind of effort? The answer can only be because they were utterly devoted and extremely talented. The caves were discovered in 1819 by British soldiers on a hunting expedition, suggesting there’s still time for each of us to discover something unbelievable during our lifetime.

As I went from cave to cave, it was hard to believe they were not included in the Seven Wonders of the World. As you may have read in a previous blog, just before this visit I had been to the Taj Mahal, and in comparison I felt the caves were a truly memorable feat of humankind. The Taj was completed in 22 years by 20,000 workers. The caves took eight centuries and who knows how many artisans. Both were extraordinary, but I soon learned the caves offered something more.

Five of the caves are temples. The other 24 were used as monasteries. Each has a distinct personality. In some, the paintings have worn away leaving only the carvings to make a lasting impression. In others, what remains of the paintings steal the show with their subtle colors and engaging imagery. There are countless masterpieces; however, once the shock of the artistic achievement wore off, I noticed something unbelievably unique about the artwork.

Appearing discreetly among the sculptures and paintings from long ago were depictions of Pig, or at least one of her distant ancestors. There, at Buddha’s feet was Pig in prayer; in a painting about to be rescued by a smiling white pachyderm was Pig, arms akimbo; dwarfed as she looked up to a gigantic Buddha was Pig. She appeared everywhere, and when I looked down at my bag she appeared in person, reminding me that her particular brand of love, innocence, and understanding has been around a long, long time.

Pig Tales

Glen — Tue, 31 Jul 2007 13:13:13 GMT

Pig reveals the power of true love!

It’s hard to imagine a grown man listening intently and carrying on a dialogue with a stuffed pig, unless the pig represents the inner child of his best friend, companion, and partner, Claudia Morgan. The pig was a gift from a family friend years ago, and in no time she was a principal member of our family.

The pig is a beautiful shade of pink, with brown button eyes, and much to her dismay, cloven hoofs and a straight tail. She wears a bow around her neck, a tag on her leg, and has beads in her butt for balance. She was born in China. We know this because the tag says so. She is thoroughly cuddly. She is also smart, entrepreneurial, and innocent, although she has occasionally been known to gamble. She has a rich fantasy life, a sense of humor, and countless friends. When children and adults see her they light up. She can make hearts melt.

The pig’s voice is on the high side with a slight lisp. She calls me daddy. I call her Pig. Listening to her is an adventure. You never know what she is going to say. The other day she asked, “Daddy, how can I talk if I have no mouth?” I clumsily said something about my special hearing ability. Then she asked, “If the beads in my butt escape, will I float?” I remember saying, “Some things are stronger than us, and gravity is one of them.” But I was wrong. Pig can fly. She can go any where, any place, any time. She is completely loveable and 100% magical.

So it came as a real shock when Pig was denied entrance to one of the Seven Wonders of the World, the Taj Mahal. Getting into the Taj Mahal is like going through security at the airport. When the line finally arrived at the entrance gate we passed through an old style metal detector and were unceremoniously searched by a soldier on the other side. He waved me forward, patted me down and examined the contents of my shoulder bag. That’s when he discovered Pig. She was taking a nap inside, in the shade away from the blazing sun.

The only time the soldier cracked a smile was when he pulled Pig out of my bag. He held her up to the other soldiers as if she was some sort of trophy, and they all had a laugh. Then he erased his smile, plopped her down in a plastic bin and said she could not enter. “She’s just a stuffed animal,” I said. He looked at me quizzically, wondering why I would protest. I offered to buy her a ticket. The words had no effect. A guide came over to see what was wrong. He told me Pig would have to stay in a security lockup until our visit was over, leaving me to wonder how anyone could see her as a security risk.

I would have left with Pig in protest, but I was with Claudia and her two nieces, who were accompanying us on this leg of the buying trip. I did not want to ruin their experience even though mine had already been tarnished by the absurdity of Pig’s denial. So I acquiesced because the Taj Mahal is something everyone should see at least once in their life. I watched sadly as Pig was taken away to a dark locker in a nearby building. We were told we could retrieve her after our visit. I was really sad. How could I enjoy this visit with Pig in such a place?

The Taj Mahal is an amazing building. It deserves to be one of the Seven Wonders of the World. At its peak, it soars something like 160 meters above the nearby Yamuna River, one of three sacred rivers in India. Its minarets tilt slightly outward. The architect designed them so they would not fall against the dome in case of an earthquake. It’s made of pure white, translucent marble. When the morning sun hits it, it’s pink. It’s white during the day. When the sun goes down, it turns a subtle shade of orange. And in moonlight, it’s green. The Taj Mahal has many personalities.

The Taj Mahal was created by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan as a mausoleum for his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal. It was completed in 1648, after 20,000 laborers toiled for 22 years. Construction materials were brought in from all over India and central Asia, and it is believed that a fleet of 1000 elephants transported these materials to the site. In all, there are 28 different types of precious and semi-precious stones inlaid into the marble. The Taj is a jewel box, and although it has been described as a testament to enduring love, it is still a tomb, albeit one of the most beautiful in the world.

On this particular day, the Taj Mahal was exceptionally crowded. There was a nearby festival and pilgrims were stopping by on their homeward journey. The gardens were packed and the lines to enter the building were long. Inside, people jockeyed for position to see the crypts of Shah Jahan and his wife. They stopped to marvel at the inlay work, and sped up when the only thing to admire was the symmetry of the building. As a guide continually pointed out, the Taj is one of the most symmetrical buildings in the world; however, I could not fully appreciate this fact because I was worried about Pig.

After leaving the building we did what every visitor does, we took pictures. There was Claudia and me in the garden, nieces, Tara and Suzanne, on a bench, Claudia with the girls on some steps, by a fountain, near a pool, on a veranda. It seemed as if we were taking a photo every few feet, and in every one of them standing magnificently in the background was the Taj Mahal. Although we were taking pictures of ourselves, the real star of the photographs was the building. After finishing our photographic obligations, we went to retrieve Pig. Much to my relief, she appeared to be okay.

Back at the hotel, we downloaded the photos from the camera. There were pictures of items purchased so far on this trip – camel bone boxes, a fantastic teakwood drafting table with a leather top, 12-15 foot long grinding tables from Nagaland, Tibetan cabinets, carved marble tables, a collection of antique carousel animals, copper planters, and a spectacular traveling altar from Bikaner, the city that boasts having the best camels in India – and, of course, our photos from the Taj Mahal. But one photo stood out from all the rest. It was Pig, posing perfectly, sitting on a bench with the Taj Mahal in the background!

I was thrilled to see Pig in the photo, but how did she escape the lockup? As I turned to her in open-mouthed amazement, she answered this question with one of her own. “Daddy,” she asked innocently, “did you know that true love can overcome any obstacle?” I nodded yes, but still didn’t understand what love had to do with her jailbreak. So she explained. “Shah Jahan loved his wife so much that he built the Taj Mahal, but that’s not all he built. He also made the Tunnel of Love, and if you believe in it with all your heart, you can pass through it and overcome anything. I just had to believe.” I contemplated Pig’s words and then remembered what I had learned earlier in the day, the Taj Mahal isn’t just a fancy tomb, it’s living proof of the power of true love.

A tale of tea – Glen Joffe discovers tea is just like everything else at Primitive

Glen — Sun, 29 Jul 2007 18:14:14 GMT

It might as well be 1920 and I have just finished an excruciatingly exhausting day in the field, in search of great things to present at Primitive. I feel like I am on the Orient Express, which I have just rushed to catch, slumped in my compartment, wearing a wrinkled linen suit, my Pandora, the most reliable sunshield I know, swaying on a hat hook as the train begins to chug along. Loosening my tie, I catch the scent of a cup of oolong tea, which the porter has graciously placed in front of me, perhaps because he has seen how disheveled I’ve become in my rush to make the train. It is not the day’s events that stick in my mind, but the porter’s courtesy, and curiosity, which he displayed as he examined my sorry appearance and brought me that glorious cup of tea.

But I am not on the Orient Express. I am at the Baiyun Airport in Guangzhou, China, a sparkling new facility opened only a couple of years ago. It is another piece of evidence of China’s modernization, its rise to first world status. But some things, no matter how fast China grows, will not be left behind, and tea is one of them. China is the birthplace of tea. It is a tea culture.

On the lower level of Baiyun Airport is a shopping mall. Like many other modern airports, Baiyun too has become a shopping mecca. I have often wondered if locals shop at these airport malls, or if they are just for the benefit of travelers? But regardless of the answer, this mall, unlike others, is dotted with tea shops, each selling tea in a fashion similar to American coffee shops. It’s the Starbucks model, only each shop is different.

I am not sure why I chose the shop I did. It might have been because there was a very enthusiastic girl outside wearing an aquamarine colored silk dress and extolling the virtues of the tea inside. It might have been because I saw other travelers sitting inside, some having conversations or listening to music or working on their computers, two at least playing Chinese Chess. Or it might have been because this was the first shop I saw.

Once inside, however, my choice was vindicated. The atmosphere was made inviting by the staff, more girls in silk dresses, and the aroma of freshly brewed tea. I settled into a chair at a table in the center of the room and ordered what the menu called “the very best oolong,” a high mountain blend from Taiwan. I know the tea. It grows at altitudes of 3000 feet or more. Its scent is memorable, like perfume.

It wasn’t long before three of the hostesses began chatting with me. Where was I from? Where was I going? What do I do? Their smiles were infectious. They spoke to me in broken English and I spoke to them in broken Chinese. In no time I was getting a Chinese lesson from the girls with the chess players enthusiastically chiming in to be helpful. There were lots of laughs. I left relaxed and energized at the same time, rushing to catch my plane because I had become lost in my lesson.

Once onboard, I took a moment to examine the day’s activities. I remembered some of the great things I found for Primitive, among them a collection of 41 antique pewter tea caddies from Fujian Province. But most of all I remembered the tea room at the airport – my encounter with the hostesses and the patrons, and of course, the tea itself. Today was about tea, and then I realized that among its attributes tea is intensely social, whether you drink it alone or in a group.

At Primitive, we have been tinkering with tea for a long time. Each year, we import a wide variety of teas from various estates and regions in China and India, the two main tea growing areas of the world. And then we serve them in the store, all with the ultimate idea of establishing an exclusive group of teas to be private labeled under the Primitive brand name. The ultimate arbiter of our final choices will be you.

If you have been to the store, you may have noticed a pot of tea sitting on the serving counter in the Five Elements library. One day it’s white tea, the next day it’s black. We’ve served green tea, monkey picked tea, and a host of floral teas. Along the way we have discovered that tea is like everything else at Primitive. It connects us to other people, places and times whether we serve it individually or to a group.