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Burningman Has Nothing on Tokyo

May 13, 2012 in Travel, Uncategorized by jensincero | No comments

Tokyo’s tallest new fan has arrived.

I could spend pages waxing on about the awesomeness of the food and the people and the architecture and the public transportation and the skyline – all of which are the best of the best, but I want to talk about the fact that…

where else in the world are you going to meet her?

or buy these?

Or see this?

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This is the crosswalk in my neighborhood, Shibuya, that’s reported to be The Busiest Crosswalk In The World.

Every time the light changes it’s like a concert just let out.  It’s incredible.

But back to the costumes.  I went to this neighborhood today called Akihabara, also known as Electric City because of its endless sea of electronic stores.

What was left off the tourist map, however, is that there are all these girls dressed as French maids enticing you to come in to their establishments to eat and or/get massaged.

It was kind of a sex shop/seedy neighborhood, so I just assumed they were part of the shennanagins, but when I peeked inside one of the restaurants, there was a family with a bunch of kids eating a pile of pancakes served by the sexy maid.

Animation Studio and Maid Cafe

Back in my sex expert days, I prided myself on knowing the ins and outs of the fetish world, but I clearly gots me some Japanese homework to do!  Right?  I mean, look at their pet stores?

I’ve met so many great people here already, including my new pal Traci, the owner of the esteemed ex-pat restaurant The Pink Cow

AND several of my favorite people who I met in Bali, fellow members of the NPA incidentally, just so happened to come to Tokyo when I did!  Including Ken and Anne Moss, two of my faves.  Back in the 70′s Ken started an airline called Freelandia that had water beds and concerts and parties and drum circles on the planes.  Sadly, it didn’t last long but hello?  How excellent is that?

Us inside the sexy pet store

 

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Surprise! Japan!

May 3, 2012 in Travel, Uncategorized by jensincero | 2 comments

So…is it just me, or does Japan somehow slip under the radar of even the most travely of travelers?

I always hear people talk about places like Paris and Italy and Thailand and Bali and Istanbul and Morocco, but I never hear anyone say, “It’s always been my dream to visit Japan one day.”

Know what I mean?  It wasn’t high on my list either, but thanks to a pal who invited me to join her on a work trip to Kyoto, I came, I saw, I sat on their heated toilet seats and I will never be the same.

Here’s what I used to think about Japan I’m not proud to admit:

Totally scary impossible to read alphabet with nothing in English and nobody who speaks it around to help

Super expensive

Boring food once you were done ODing on sushi

Ho-hummish in the beauty department

Crowded

Alienating

Impossible to navigate

Oh I was so wrong wrong wrong!  And I have pictures to prove it.  Here’s some stuff from the Kyoto part of my trip:

Loaded with secret alleyways where you feel you could easily run into Batman

Surrounded by mountains

 

You can ride the bus in your robe

Candy!

Squid on a stick!

Kyoto is also home of the Geisha, and it’s kind of a sport walking through the Gion area trying to spot one, especially since they tend to run from the cameras like the rockstars they are
One night we were out for dinner, and I realized it was a year ago that week that I put my dear old 22 year old cat, The Big Guy, to sleep, at once breaking my heart and freeing me up to travel the world indefinitely.
So we’re sitting there eating and I look up to see a PICTURE OF MY FRIKKEN CAT STARING DOWN AT ME!
The owner swears it was it his cat, but I knew better.  Same exact markings, same zits on his chin, same “you sure you’re gonna eat all that?” expression…
And I can not conclude my post about my newfound Japanamazement without talking about their toilets.
Again.
I know, gross, but you guys, it doesn’t stop at the heated seat part!  It’s like going to a butt car wash – spray, shower, dry, wax on, wax off – there’s probably even a button for an air freshener somewhere on there.
We are missing out people.
Missing.
Out.

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Wanna Meet For Lunch in Paris?

April 13, 2012 in Inspiration, Travel, Uncategorized by jensincero | 5 comments

This is the picture I have on my desktop these days:

And I look at it the way I used to look around my living room.

“Hmmm, maybe I should move the couch next to the ficus?  I think that would open the place up a bit.”

“Hmmm, maybe I should go to Sri Lanka between my trip to Japan and Bali.  I think they have elephants.”

A year ago, buying a ticket to Iceland would have been a huge deal, requiring much forethought, a bit of a freak out over planning and timing, and agonizing over what to bring and what to leave behind.

I mean, even driving from my house in Venice Beach to downtown LA was an epic ordeal.

Now I fly off to Qatar as if I’m heading down the street for a slice of pizza.

The world has gotten SO SMALL to me suddenly. I literally feel like I’m hovering above it from a different vantage point, looking down on our planet as if it’s all right at my fingertips.

And it occurred to me this morning – it not only is, but it always HAS been.

It’s all always been right there, hanging around, doop de doo, waiting for me to notice it.

It honestly makes my hair stand up.  Because it’s almost creepy:

THERE ARE COUNTLESS HUGELY AWESOME GIGANTIC OPPORTUNITIES AND EXPERIENCES AND VERSIONS OF OUR LIVES SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US RIGHT NOW THIS VERY SECOND.

They’re just waiting for our perspectives to change.

So next time you’re feeling stuck or freaking out about paying your mortgage or wondering how the hell you wound up living the kind of life you used to make fun of, take a deep breath, look beyond the ordinary and reconsider what you deem impossible.

Because the motherlode is at your front door, she’s just waiting to be invited in.

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Monkeys and Me.

April 5, 2012 in Travel, Uncategorized by jensincero | Permalink

I think monkeys are vile. And hilarious. And I’m terrified of them. Not only was I recently mugged by a gang of them, but a few years ago in India I was nearly sexually assaulted and killed by one.

I was sitting on the porch of my hotel, watching a gaggle/herd/swarm of monkeys jump around the roofs and balconies, playing and screaming and doing disgusting monkey things, when all of a sudden this HUGE monkey, clearly The Grand Poobah Monkey, jumps up on the roof, pounds his fists on his chest and roars, scattering the entire monkey population in one, squeaky blur.

Then he looks at me.

Stares me down.

And leaps!

I remember in that moment thinking wow, this is it. This is how it’s going to go down. I’m going to die on a balcony in Pushkar, home of the camel festival and mustache competitions, covered in monkey bites and my own pee.

But alas – he landed right at my feet and then bounced over my head, combing my hair with his toes and practically teabaggin me in the process.

Because I’m a big believer in facing your fears, I forced myself to pay the two bucks and take a stroll through The Sacred Monkey Forest in Ubud the other day, even though the sign at the entrance warned that they sometimes jump from the trees and land on your head.

I mean, come ON!

So gross.

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Happy New Year! Now Shut Up, Go Home and Don’t Move.

March 21, 2012 in Travel, Uncategorized by jensincero | No comments

My new pal, Adi (whose name is definitely spelled wrong), the assistant manager of the Pita Maha Resort where I’m presently staying, drove me around the little villages outside of Ubud so I could look for houses to rent.  And meet his wife and kids.

Got myself a schmooftie room at his hotel with my own pool to hang out by while my ankle heals and I, ahem, write my book.

 

He explained that the ladies walking by with 80 pounds of fruit on their heads were making offerings to the gods for Nyepi, or The Day of Silence, or the Hindu New Year or The Day That White People Find Themselves In Bali With Nothing To Do.

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On March 23rd for Nyepi, the entire island closes down, including ports and harbors, and nobody is allowed on the street, to turn on lights, light fires, work, play, nothin – all must focus on spiritual inspection.

On the night before Nyepi  (New Years Eve), all the villages perform an exorcism of sorts, letting the ogog-ogoh monster and all their other demons run amok in some sort of evil, scary parade.

Ogog-ogoh getting ready for his big night on the town.

Sort of like what we do in the U.S.A., proving once again that cultures are kind of the same all around the world.

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Fine. I Love Bali Too.

March 19, 2012 in Travel, Uncategorized, Writing by jensincero | No comments

I almost didn’t come to Bali.

In my opinion, Bali is for amateurs.  Everyone who has a yoga mat and a passport and a mid life crisis has been to Bali.

Plus, if I hear one more person utter the words Eat, Pray, or Love in reference to my life I’m going to start screaming and never stop.

I’m so much more original than all that.
So much more adventurous.
Way cooler, thank you very much.

Luckily, I realized that these are really stupid reasons to not visit what I have quickly come to recognize as paradise (please see my Huffington Post article on the ill effects of pride and general egomaniacal fatheadedness), and am so in love with this place I spent all day yesterday looking for houses to rent.

 

Hi! I'm an idiot!

 

Alam Indah Hotel, Ubud

3 Brothers Inn, Legian

Pita Maha Resort, Ubud

Bali is all about the things I love like beaches and monkey jungles and temples and nice people and outdoor showers and sweet smelling flowers and never getting cold and not in the way L.A. pretends to never get cold but REALLY never getting cold and coral reefs and great food and I’m so inspired to write my book here I could weep.

Jungle Office #33: Alam Indah Hotel, Ubud Bali

Plus, Eat, Pray, Love wasn’t soooo bad.

AND, speaking of my book, and my impending Balinese residency that has me wanting to do nothing but explore every last monkey crack and crevice of this place – The Universe has generously stepped in and provided me with the perfect ankle injury to make sure I actually sit my ass down to write the damn thing instead.

An injury that reportedly won’t fully heal for several months, which is how long it takes to write a book.

An injury that even revered Balinese healers can’t heal (because he got the memo from The Universe perhaps?  Or from my agent?)

This seemingly mystical exchange was so fucking painful it's a miracle I didn't kick him in the beard.

An injury that has also provided the perfect material for the intro of my book, which is all about how we have already been given exactly what we need to live the lives we love, if only we’d change how we look at things.

It’s also why every shot on this page is of the many hotels I’ve stayed at.  Me and Club Foot Jones don’t get out much, but I really don’t care because I live here now and can see it later.

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Is It a Federal Offense to Sit In An Emergency Exit Row With Baked Potato Foot?

March 14, 2012 in Travel, Uncategorized by jensincero | 1 comment

One of the casualties of my beloved no-set-plan traveling is there are often few to zero good seats left by the time I choose where I’m going next, and first-class prices by that time are usually a full-on fuggetaboutit.

Up until a week ago I was planning to go to Sri Lanka instead of Bali, and my last minute switcheroo was muchly complicated by the fact that I sprained the hell out of my ankle hiking through Australia’s jungley bits.

 

I really needed a seat where I could move it around and keep the blood pumping through as it’s now so swollen it looks like the ankle of an 80 year-old Polish immigrant grandmother.

So I decide to play the pity card and see if I can’t get myself in the roomy emergency exit row, but the lady at the check-in counter informs me I can’t sit there with an injury and here’s your last-minute, last-row, middle seat assignment, Ms. Lateyface.

Duh.

So I hobble through security, slip into the bathroom, discard my ace bandage and approach the nice lady at the gate doing my best not to walk like I have a rake up my ass to see if I can please have an exit row seat.  I’m 6’1” you see.  I really need the extra leg room.  Plus I have really strong ankles.

The thought did cross my mind that what if we did indeed have an emergency landing and countless innocent people perished due to my big baked potato foot being in their way of a safe exit?  Or that I’d be arrested for attempting such a selfish crime.   Or that I’d get busted by stupidly posting it on my blog which is why I’m not telling you what happened.

I got said balloon foot whilst on a hiking, wine tasting and kangaroo spotting excursion with Ashlee after an awesome evening out on the town with her stunning partner, Brad, who I only seem to have this semi- lousy picture of:

Luckily we were only about 40 minutes in when I fell on my face and had to hop back through the tangled path with Ashlee’s tights wrapped around my foot.

 

We were then forced to spend the sunny afternoon at Sticks Vineyard in the Yarra Valley picnicking on wine and cheese.

We even saw several, if extremely, distant, kangaroos on the way home.

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I Finally Made It To Oz

March 12, 2012 in Uncategorized by jensincero | No comments

Here’s a little story that should raise the hair on your arms.

I decide it’s time for me to see New Zealand and visit my pal Nancy and I think to myself I think, self, we can’t be down under and not visit Ashlee in Australia.

Ashlee is someone I shared an apartment with a million years ago (1989 to be exact) when I lived in Barcelona and who I could tell a million stories about things like stowing away on trains and accidentally having cat food for dinner because we couldn’t read the labels on the cans yet but I’d like to get to the arm hair part here so suffice it to say she’s a true kindred spirit, a bright shiny light, fun with a capital F.

I hadn’t spoken to or been in contact with in over a decade, so I attempt to track her down and within an hour am fully discouraged because it’s kind of a common name and she’s not on the almighty Facebook.

30 minutes after I put down my search, I get an email from her.  I HAVEN’T HEARD FROM HER IN 10 YEARS AND WITHIN THE SAME 30 MINUTES….

I love it when that happens.

So here we are at her place in Melbourne with dog, son and kimonos.

 

Downtown Melbourne, where muggles shop:

I put 2 major dings on my traveling the world card by purchasing somethings no one should travel the world without:  A painting….

 

And a ukulele.

 

The dog looks miserable for a reason

I’m rushing off to the airport to catch my flight to Bali but will post more about Melbourne and how I nearly had to be airlifted out of the bush when I land….


 

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How To Hit The New Ground Running

February 16, 2012 in Travel, Uncategorized by jensincero | 2 comments

I arrived in New Zealand after a 20 hour-ish journey from Los Angeles last night and felt just fine about it.

And here’s why:

 

I don’t know what the hell this stuff is, but 4 drops under the tongue as many times a day as you can remember of the Five Flower Formula, and 40 drops in some water 4 times a day of the Rhodiola and I’m feeling like I skipped around the block and wound up in Auckland.

As a seasoned hippie and someone who’s always shied away from taking drugs that don’t do anything fun to you, I’ve tried many an herbal remedy over the years to cure my ills.

And honestly, most of the time, they didn’t do nuthin.

But I am totally blown away by these two potions so I thought I’d share.

Also, while en route, drink craploads of water, immediately adapt to the time zone of wherever you’re going (force yourself to stay awake or go to sleep when you get on the plane),

I'm awake. I'm so awake it's not even funny.

lay off the booze and eat as healthy as you possibly can.

Green smoothies and Aunt Margaret's Tuna bean salad with my pal Nanooch Molinooch.

We’re heading off to Whangapoua Beach where I am told the beauty will leave me sobbing in a heap of  heartbreaking awe.  So far I give NZ an A+.

Office #32: Nancy's front porch, Auckland, NZ

 

 

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My Book Is In Oprah Magazine – Doot Doo Doo!

February 13, 2012 in Uncategorized, Writing by jensincero | No comments

In 2002 I published my very first book:

Today I’m inspired to talk about my dear old book because this week, in 2012, it appears in Oprah Magazine.  Page 131 to be exact.

Look closely and you can see my mother holding it up.
I’m the blur on the bottom left.

As I mentioned in my recent TEDx Talk, one fear I had around deciding to cut the cord and live the home-free lifestyle was what the hell is gonna happen to my mail?

Because I have the sweetest mother (who is still talking to me even after posting a picture of her in bed in her robe w/o make-up on in the aforementioned TEDx talk), she has now become my postmistress.

And she is constantly forced to get in front of her computer, fire up Skype, and hold up photos of my friends on the Christmas cards that were forwarded to her house, read aloud to me from the DMV about my upcoming car registration and yesterday, hold up O Magazine so I could get a screen shot because I refuse to buy it and lug it all over the globe with me.

A bit higher.  Great, now move to the right.

Here?

A little farther.  Perfect!  Wait, it’s blurry.  Let me try again.  You moved!

Sorry.

Back to the left.  Good.

My arms hurt.  I’m putting this down.

It took us a good ten minutes and much blood loss in my mother’s arms to get a rather crappy picture of it, but the important thing is IT EXISTS!  My little book that could keeps on keeping on!

And now it’s not only being talked about on page 131 by Malin Akerman in Oprah Magazine, but they’re taking an excerpt from it for an APP they’re making for the new iPad – doot doo doo!

So for all of you out there who are too lazy or scared to get off your asses and write your books or start a band or paint a picture or quit your job and start your own business…

Do it.

 

Because opportunity is out there whether you decide to show up or not.

And if you don’t show up, it’ll just go to someone else.

And one day a very lovely and very Swedish actress may be blabbing about you in a very O magazine.

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