Year: 2025

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N.20 Money!

Money can’t buy happiness, as they say.

There is some truth in the saying: a rich man can be just as miserable, if not more so, than a poor man. Happiness is a choice we make every moment.
Happiness is hiding in the little gifts of life that await us at every turn.

Throwing a thousand dollars in the air won’t make happiness fall into our laps.

That being said, with money, you can buy a birthday cake for a 12-year-old girl who is sad because she can’t invite her friends to her party since she doesn’t have a cake to offer them.

“I’ll buy you your cake, damn it!”

I said to her, in a more appropriate language

Seeing the girl’s face light up with joy as she busily called her friends was a real emanation of joy. And all for 12 bucks.

Money can’t buy happiness, but with $10, you can pay for a 15-year-old’s gym membership so he can work out with his friends.

Money can’t buy happiness, not directly.

But with 22 bucks, you can pay your friend and his family’s electric bill.
Tomorrow there will be light in the hallway when you go over to spend the evening.

Money can’t buy happiness, but for $10 you can get a haircut, buy groceries for the week, a few extra chocolates, and take a taxi home.

Okay, this example is typically Indian because in Quebec, for $10 you get a coffee and a napkin.

Money can’t buy happiness but with a few handfuls of it you can take a plane to the other side of the world in a culture very far from your own and slowly release your own sense of how things should be. You can take your time to redefine yourself day by day because food and shelter are no more an issue for you.

Money can’t buy happiness but it facilitates travelling.

Adventures filled with ‘’what the fuck’’ moments, of impromptu tears of melancholy and strange meetings with wonderful people.

Money can’t buy happiness, but for 10 rupees you can get a chaï tea, sit down and digest all the experiences you’ve been having for the last 6 months while watching the birds flying up above. If that’s not happiness, then I don’t know what is.

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n.19 ”The surprising virtues of a poor muslim man with the heart bigger than the indian ocean”


We met at a street corner quite by accident about two months ago. So many circumstances had to come together for the stars to align for us to be at the same place, at the same time. Chance had nothing to do with it.

It was destiny. I am sure of it.

Our friendship deepens each day that passes. In his company, I agin in dignity and personal sovereignty. Abdul, an old ayurvédic doctor as poor as an old rusty nail at the bottom of a drawer but such richness emanates from this man, I am perpetually taken aback by it.

A smile going up all the way to his eyes. Constantly benevolent there’s no other like him.

Everyone from around here knows him. They all say he’s an honorable man with a good heart. Always happy to be of service. A mala in hand, prayer is never far from his lips. He’s got such a devotion towards his god, it’s contagious.

We throw at each other an endless amount of ‘’Inshallah’’ and ‘’Devam anygrèykète at each occasion. (To the rhythm of God and God bless you)

Last week, he showed me around the neighborhood. The first day, we walked for 7 hours straight. At last some exercise worth mentioning. I’ve been waiting for that one.

Once at Kovalam beach, a prayer of mine got answered: a true double espresso.
It’s hard to describe the effect of a double espresso in a body that hasn’t seen any real coffee in over 3 months. It’s as if my body and mind fused perfectly whilst being jolted by 35 000 volts of lightning.

I could not hold myself. I whipped out my banjo and played ravenously for an hour and a half straight without stopping. All that in front of a magnificent beach, tenderly cradled by sea winds and the sound of waves.

Paradise.

Abdul’s sister, Fatima, is the owner of a house on a mountain overlooking the ocean. It never got finished due to lack of funding and left to itself. Me and Abdul we’ll build a bathroom, a shower and a bedroom. The house shall be mine for my time here.

There are encounters that change us, that won’t allow us to remain the old and pushes us towards another level of personal freedom. My meeting with Abdul is one of those.

The kindness, generosity and unconditional love is contagious. I am now infected and for sure will propagate this fever to all those who cross my path.

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N.18 Hospitality. The Indian way.

In India, the hospitality is such that they will invite you to their homes to meet the whole family, offer you a chair to sit on and feed you till your belly becomes round.
If everyone gets two portions, you get four.

You may have to learn to say no at some point. Three dosas are enough but they bring you two more and another fried fish. You can say no. That you are full and satisfied but this does not always work. When in doubt, say yes and eat the whole damn thing.

They will serve you tea.
Yes, it’s caffeinated.
Yes, it’s 9pm on a Tuesday and you usually go to bed by 10pm.
Yes, you will have trouble sleeping.
Just say thank you and drink the whole damn thing.

They will invite you to hang out the next day.
You are in India.
You are here to discover the cultures and immerse yourself in all its ways.
Just say yes.
Show up the day after. Eat more. Learn a few words. Imbibe the cultural intricacies.
Have a few laughs and share your humanity.

As you may have already deciphered, it is now 10pm on a Tuesday. I’ve just eaten for two and drank so much tea. I doubt sleep will be kind tonight.

Tomorrow, Karti will show me how to wear the traditional cotton wrapped around the waist, the Tamil way. I am sorry for not knowing the name of it yet. I usually go about it this way:

I say yes. I have an experience. Then, I learn the names of things.

Flash forward two days later.

The name is longui. I have been taught many Tamil and Malayalam words. Even a few in Indie. I laughed so much these last few days with my adoptive Tamil family, the side of my mouth hurts and my eyes are wrinkled. They sure know how to have a proper hang out!

I went fishing for the first time in ages. Armed with a bamboo stick and flour paste as bait on a lake so dirty I did not dare to put in my feet.
I already hear you asking: did you catch any fish? Yes we did. And yes, we ate them.
Still haven’t gotten sick so far. God willing, I never will.

And so, another day concludes itself in the glorious lands of Tamil Nadu, south India.
I am now aiming northward. I have heard about the musicians and dancers in Rajasthan.
I want to meet, mingle and play. I’ve been here one month so far and still haven’t quenched my thirst for jamming.
I shall keep looking outward,
rooted inward,
banjo in hand and ready to play.
Bobcat on the lookout!

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N.17 Cold rain and Snow


Two grown men and a goat pass by on a motorcycle. But who drives?

Today marks my one month in India. I am now a grown ass man with a belly filled with dosas and aching teeth from all the sugar everywhere, all the time. So many people told me about the culture shock. How India is a crazy place and to brace for impact.

Once again folks, an old lesson rings true:
Don’t listen to anybody and go check it out for yourself.

Prior to India, I spent a month and a half in Mexico. Both have so much in common I was surprised by it.

Replace cheese with sugar
Replace tortillas with dosas
Replace spanish with an unknown (to me) Indian language and Voilà:
Same shit, different continent.

I’ve got to say though, the Mexican arts and culture we’re more present, at least from my minimal experience of a month. Out here in southern India, I haven’t found music nor art, outside of the temple decorations and masterful craftsmanship that is.

I will keep looking for my kin.
I’ll let you know when I find them.

On the food and beverage side of life, both have many similarities. There are food stands everywhere filled to the brink with carbs. For a cheap price you can eat like a king, a.k.a ‘’way too much’’.

On the coffee side of town, Mexico wins by very very very far. By that, I mean, if there ever was a contest between the two countries to decipher who had the best coffee, India would’ve overslept, missed the whole ordeal and lost.

I know, I keep writing about coffee and all. You know, my writing is usually half inspiration and half caffeine. Takes a minute to get used to it, forgive me.

Back to the real issue at hand.
Man number one was driving, the goat was in the middle and man number two in the back.
Pure science. I love how crazy the driving is around here. It truly is a sight to wonder upon.

It can get so freakin’ hot out here this time of year. One night, as I was watching a movie, a scene came up. The scene was this: cold, wet mid-december heavy snow in a city.

I had a proverbial hard on
For snow
For cold
For icy roads that make you dance shakily
I truly am a man of the north.

Consider me melting. In southern India. In the hottest months of the year.
Bobcat reporting for duty!

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N.16 ‘’Black hole coffee’’

I’ve finally found it!
The one drink up to the task of raising the dead. I found it at a tiny street corner shop.
Finally a beverage that delivers a true kick in the face. I’m not sure the exact mixture but it bears the name ‘’ginger tea’’.

Pretty common, right?
Ah! How wrong I was.
Just a defenseless little ginger tea I thought. That’ll be a good digestive after supper.
That night I could not fall asleep.

I tried again the next day. At 2 pm.
That gives me ample time to digest it fully and fall asleep peacefully come night time.
Wrong again!
At last, a true contender.

I had been told, before coming here, South India is home of some of the best coffee on the planet. I had high hopes. They all came crashing down. Until now, I’ve only come across instant coffee or a mixture of 50/50 chicory and coffee. Disappointing to say the least.

With the English language, I can communicate with most people and be understood.
But for some reason, when I say: ‘’strong black coffee, no extra water, no milk, no sugar, please’’ It seems to go right by and I get an instant sugary abomination.

And so, I gave up trying.

You see, I don’t really drink ‘’coffee’’. I drink motor oil.
I enjoy my coffee so strong it makes the nearby flies die of heart attacks just by the smell of it. Come to think of it, there was one instance where I found satisfaction.

After visiting a temple with my friend Javi, we went to a nearby restaurant.
I went with my usual routine. ‘’strong black coffee, no extra water. no sugar, no milk, please’’

The waiter came back giggling.
They don’t get that sort of madness often I think.
He looks at me with huge eyes and says ‘’strong black coffee’’ while handing me the one thing I had been longing for: Motor oil.

A coffee so black, time disappears in it. My god, what a grand moment!
It’s the little things in Life, my friend.
It’s the little things.

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N.15 ‘’ Indian Traffic King’’

Klonks, klanks, screeches, vroom and horns blaring.
That’s the sound of Indian traffic.

Out here, downtown India in a small village by the name of Padmanabhapuram, at the crossover of streets, right in front of an historical building, here lies the action. Ginger tea in my hand I observe the chaotic beauty.

It’s so hot I probably sweat a third of my bodyweight daily. People keep telling me it’s only getting higher until the rainy season hits, June or july.

I am the only foreigner out here in these parts at this time of year.
No one’s crazy enough for those scorching hot and sweaty weather.

Forget the saunas. Come to South India in May.
You’ll get your money’s worth. No refunds.
Getting played by taxi drivers included.
The perfect getaway vacation!

First time I saw Indian traffic, I was baffled.
They cross lanes all the time. Buses pass you by, barely face fronting your life away. there’s no streetlights and the walkers get in on the action too. It’s a wonderful mess to be part of.

One day, as I was enjoying a mango juice in Kerala’s capital, directly in front of traffic, something hit me. Despite the thousands of cars, buses, motorcycles and trucks flowing by, I did not feel stressed at all. Not one bit.

Back home in Montréal, I avoid traffic at all costs.
There’s a pressure and tension present that I do not like.
Out here, downtown Kiruvananthapuram, the traffic did not bother at all.

As I was wondering why, I came to a possible explanation.

Contrary to Canadian traffic which is filled with frustration, anger, despair and suffering, Indian traffic is so overwhelmingly wild, the only way to survive is to play.

To be playful. To approach it as a game. Or else you hesitate and die.
By all standards, it’s a total neverending crisis.
You have to find the opportunity and without any second thoughts: seize it.

Who would have thought that traffic could teach such a profound life lesson.
When everything is in flux, victory comes to those who take action with clarity and decisiveness

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N.14 ‘’The Abdul encounter’’


We have been schooled in the art of generosity.
Out of nowhere, an angel came and offered us what could never be bought.

As we were sitting in the shades of a closed tea stall. Playing music to pass time while keeping a high spirit, There comes Abdul in his desert nomad style of clothing. Only his shining eyes were visible. He listened to us intently for a moment and went away. Reappearing with hot chai meant for us.
And so, our friendship began.

The English being quite limited, we communicated with the heart.
In the evening we ended up at his house with the whole family.
They fed us profusely and we gave our music in return.
Such gratefulness oozing out of these people, the music flowed unobstructed.

At first glance, one may be tempted to call them poor but, in truth, I’ve rarely encountered such richness. A humble home filled with love and smiles trumps everything else.

-‘’God is Giving’’ repeated Abdul.
Eyes shining brightly. Adorned with a true smile.
One hand on his heart and the other to the sky.

-‘’Your happiness is my happiness, brother’’
He’d say while offering us drinks

A true life lesson in kindness.
I am deeply moved by the unconditionality of it.
My perspective of generosity is forever altered.

One of his daughters sparked up by the sight of my banjo and was eager to try it.
A musician in the making!

Javi and I decided to push things a little and give a guitar to the family.
Who knows, we may come back in a few years only to find master musicians.
‘’God willing!’’

It’s important, I find, learning to receive gracefully and give unconditionally. Two sides of the same coin. The coin may have been soiled by our capitalist background: everything becomes a market place. I may be foolhardy but I believe the grandest of riches can never be bought or sold. Life cannot be equated to transactions of commerce.

We come with empty hands and leave just the same.
How grand a journey we create is entirely up to us.

I doubt I’ll remember the dollars I’ve gathered along the way.
Instead, smiles like the ones of Abdul saying ‘’God is giving’’ while handling us freshly cooked fish, that will remain forever in my heart.

God willing, brother, our friendship is only beginning!

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N.13 The beard keeps growing. The adventures keep rolling!


And so,
when my new momentary roommate Pedro asked me if I wanted to go to church for ‘’pasas’’,
I said Yes!
No idea what that meant but hey, adventure time it is!

I vaguely understood it was about food. I had just eaten but so what;
An opportunity to learn is a yes from me.

Turns out ‘’pasas’’ are potatoes. French fries, if you will.
Filled with mayonnaise and fake cheese.
A delicious disaster.

So much joy comes from embracing imperfections.
Those little crooked bends on the road.
Momentous change of plans
Quirky moments of misunderstanding
The grandiose crashing down of fantasy

Or the best one yet: Coming to the end of the line only to realize you have absolutely no idea where you are and what you want to do next.

All hail imperfections!

As I have mentioned before, it’s the simple things in Life that makes all the difference.

Once again, I’ve been welcomed as a friend.
I’ve been offered food, shelter and kinship.
Doing the dishes afterwards seemed like the thing to do.

Life flows easily when acceptance, warm heartedness and clear communication team up to foster an environment suited for growth and freedom.

Been pondering lots about my choices.
About what I believe to be possible for myself.
The environments I gravitate around

One thing I realized yesterday night: I’m never coming back.
This adventurous journey will forever change who I am.
The process of change is already swift and fluid.
All the more powerful now that I am unattached to my home in Montréal.

No one knows me
No one expects anything of me
I can reinvent myself at any moment without causing any disturbance
I like this newfound freedom.

In a new town, meeting new friends, with more beard on my face,
The same Spanish language and a whole new kind of heat.

Here I am in San Agustin Etla and the journey keeps going.

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N.12 Of arts, coffee and longings


Just arrived in Oaxaca city yesterday around 4pm. Found my hostel and went for a stroll into town. I have easily seen more visual art in my evening walk than a whole month in Montréal.

This is a thriving culture. I’ve been told so many times before.
World famous for its food and art. My Mexican friend told me the roots of this place are warrior culture. The inhabitants are fervent towards demonstrations and protests.
I can attest by the sound of a marching band at 8 in the morning, coming from the park nearby.

And so, an ignorant man’s sight seeing begins. I’m slowly going farther and farther away, trying to remember the way back. If I get my cell phone out for the map, I lose.
That’s the game I play.

If I lose, I owe the winner a coffee.
If I win, I get a coffee.

It’s a geographical awareness adventure that usually ends with grinding teeth.
(you know… the coffee…)

I’m in a good mood so I’ll go to a park near where there are lots of passersby and whip out yé ol’ banjo. Bobcat is gon’ try to make some friends. Wish me luck!

One afternoon later…

Ok, so, even though this city is clearly one of a kind, it somehow feels like all other tourist places. The recipe changes but the dish remains the same.

I long for silence and space.
I’m at this point in my life where I want the profundity of quietness to engulf me in her arms.

I long for a fire under the stars
I long to play harmonica in the woods
I long for rivers and mountains

Keep your fancy restaurants and parties.
I’ll grab a few nuts, 2 bananas and head out to the valleys
where the sky and the earth make love daily

I long to be in tune with the rhythms of nature, not the city’s tempo.

Now, that’s my own personal point of view at the moment.
If you dig art and gorgeous food, you’ve got to come to Oaxaca city.
You will not regret it.

As for myself, you’ll find me somewhere in the desert gazing at the galaxies, burning a few twigs and dried grass.

To each his/her own adventure!

P.s: Later that night, I came upon a concert by a master musician by the name of Hector Diaz. A guitarist like no other. I was glued to my chair for 3 hours straight, mesmerized by the sheer grandiosity. That’s one thing cities tend to have in common: Great Musicians.

Gotta give her that
Gotta give her that

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N.11 Of Dogs, Friendships and Goodbyes

Today, I went on an adventure with Sombra, a black dog from around here.
She led me down the mountain to the river, up the other mountain and finally back to the river again. We played in the water. I sang while Sombra was digging up roots.

We were speaking the same language.

A very intelligent dog. Always aware of where I was and coming back to get me when we were far apart. The best guide in town! A true leader.

Her fee was one dried fish and four eggs. Fair deal.
We are now best of friends.

On the next morning, the time had come to leave this paradise.
Head on down the road to another town
To other adventures and new friends.

It’s funny how life arranges things.
How each goodbyes are unique.

Right out of the tortilla shop, the bus arrives and one kiss on the cheek later we part.
Just like that.
A chapter comes to a close and the other begins.

Makes my heart tender and grateful.
One last hug to my friend Lula
One last tamales for my friends Sombra and Wapo
One last look at San Mateo on the way out.


Los Vemos!

I’ve been welcomed as a friend.
I’ve been cradled in this town’s silence for a week.
Ate lots of tortillas made by an 80 years old grandma from down the street
Played with dogs. Made fires and jammed fiercely on the banjo.

I am grateful and savor each moment.
I love Life and I suspect, by the way things arrange themselves, Life loves me too.

So long, friends!