Swami, one year later

A story is like a river. Sometimes a river disappears, but that doesn't necessarily mean it has dried up. Sometimes it goes underground where it travels, not just miles, but hundreds or thousands of miles through the secret earth before resurfacing... to be it's own same/never-the-same self again, like it always was.

The thread of this story disappeared amid the ruins of Angkor Wat, leaving us with the clangorous ring of the cicada and the rattle and whir of Mr. Keen's tuk tuk as our only comfort in the dark broken heart of Cambodia.

This story began a year ago almost to the day and is in three parts, here, here and here. If you've never met Swami, I took this video in Ankor Wat last December, about a half hour before he disappeared. It's good way to get to know him before reading further.

 Swami riding in Mr. Keen's tuk tuk

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One year ago Swami, our beloved traveling companion of nearly 15 years, disappeared at Angkor Wat. It was totally my fault. I was careless. He was very vulnerable riding in his little bag. I kept telling myself I should make a harness for him but never did.

M. Lee and I were heartbroken. It wasn't like losing a family member. Swami is family. It was devastating. But, traveling without him is inconceivable so he immediately "reincarnated" as coral Swami. I know. We're odd.

Me flouting a warning at the cursed temple of Ta Keo

But here's the thing. After that first, heart stopping moment when we realized Swami was gone, the idea that we'd never see him again was simply and totally unthinkable. To even consider such a thing was not only preposterous, it was impossible. We knew he would return. He just had to.

Swami contemplating Swami

So, this last year, we've combed secondhand stores, gift shops, baby boutiques, toy stores, junk shops, art museums, Pintrest, Etsy, Ebay and countless other websites hoping to find him or someone who could make a new yellow Swami body. Family and friends, old and new, joined the search, some even volunteering to sew a new one and finally we realized that, unskilled as we are, M. Lee and I would have to figure out how to make the yellow Swami body ourselves.

Swami with his friend Andy

at the old Whitney Museum in New York

Then a few weeks ago, almost exactly a year to the day since Swami disappeared, a very strange thing happened. Totally out of the blue, and in his usual innocent and cheery way, Coral Swami turned to me and said, "Yellow Swami is coming back". We didn't know what to make of it. How could he know? On the other hand, how could he not know?  But last week, when we were still in Chiang Mai, M. Lee stumbled on this.

Yes, yes. Click the button and watch the scary, bad clowns.

We replayed the part around 0:35 seconds, where HAM sprinkles vinegar on everything and stuffs his mouth with more chips. The music is building as he picks up the newspaper, sees the picture of a little yellow dude in the ad section, throws his bike into high gear and roars off into the store to claim him. And we paused at 1:07, the part where HAM first sees the little yellow dude on the shelf. so that we could read and re-read the name on the wall.... Flat Eric! Of course, we had checked out Flat Eric before but the searches never led anywhere. This time was different.

And don't miss this one. It is part of the narrative.

Flat Eric

What happened next went as fast as the gunfight but had a better ending. M. Lee did a quick search for Flat Eric. That took him to a six-year-old discussion where someone had posted a link to the German Ebay account of a guy named buecherfritzke01 who sells second hand collectibles and there he was... Swami! We bought him immediately and, within the next 24 hours, buecherfritzke01 sent him on his way. Thank you very much. And a couple of days ago yellow Swami arrived in America! The mailer was beat up and taped back together, but he is still smiling. Now he is waiting for us in Portland, Oregon. I hear he's hanging out with some crazy Christmas angels there. We'll be home in January, Swami! See you then.

Swami, resurfacing at last

So, thank you HAM, Mr. Oizo (aka Quentin Dupieux) and Flat Eric. And thank you Dalai Lama and the Tulkas, and Mr. buecherfritzke01 wherever you are. And especially thank you, our family and friends. The fact that you guys get it and care, or at least care, makes all the difference. 

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After a year of wondering where and how Yellow Swami disappeared that day, I came to the conclusion that it was right by this tree in front of Angkor Thommanon. As we were approaching the temple, a group of young girls suddenly surrounded me with a tight circle, talking and waving souvenirs in my face all the while then, as suddenly, they were gone.

Angkor Thommanon
by the tree where Swami disappeared

It was then I noticed he was gone. We immediately questioned everyone in the vicinity as best we could given no one spoke English or seem at all interested in what we were tying to convey with photos and body language. After that, Mr. Keen drove us back to the cursed temple of Ta Keo, although everything seemed pretty cursed at that point.

So now, one year almost to the day, he's back . . . he's home with us. Coral Swami was right.

Swami contemplating the full moon
Ko Kood, Thailand 2013

PS.  No. I do not think M. Lee is at all like Mr. Oizo and certainly I, in no way, resemble his tailgate buddy so don't even go there.

Here and gone

Lots of action in the Bird Park these days but now we have to leave again, though this time only for a week. I put out a bunch of apples for the interim. This batch wasn't very good but somebody will eat them.

Since we've been back, I've spent a good deal of my time fiddling around with matting photos. Cutting a mat is a simple formula but, as I'm just getting started, the entire process has turned out to be very time consuming. I've had to assemble the tools, deal with enlargements and touch-up, find suitable frames. I bought a pair of interesting 12 x 14 frames at a second hand store but, being new to all this, I didn't realize what a pain in the ass they'd turn out to be because that is a non-standard size. Anyway, it's a work in progress and now, once again, I've gotta go.

Monk on morning alms walk

But before I do, just to brighten up the page, I've included a photo from our time at Angkor Wat, well actually from the town of Siem Reap. That's where everyone stays when visiting Angkor Wat. The monks make their daily rounds. They stand in front of a shop for a few minutes and generally the shopkeeper comes out and gives them alms. It's a sweet deal both ways, a practice in humility for the monk and an opportunity to make a little good karma for the shopkeeper.

Swami, Dalai and the Tulku

I started this post in the Siem Reap airport this morning while waiting for our flight back to Bangkok. Seven days in Cambodia was more than enough. For all the beauty, nice people and stunning ancient ruins, it's a dark hard place to be. I even dreamt I was blown up by a landmine. Trust me. That wakes you up with a start.

Swami contemplating Ta Keo,
the cursed temple

We went back to Ta Keo three more times but the girl who said she'd keep looking for Swami was never there. So sadly, whether lost or stolen, Swami is gone and now we must move on. If one of the girls selling souvenirs at Angkor Thommanon took him, I hope he brings her much happiness. His smile truly is irresistible.

Swami contemplating Swami

I will say this. I had an ominous feeling about Ta Keo the minute I saw the place. Swami felt it too. I have since read that during its construction, the High Priest declared the presence of an evil omen, halted the work and the temple has remained unfinished to this very day. That was a thousand years ago. Recently the Chinese adopted Ta Keo as a pet restoration project and are hard at it, putting what remains back together. Good luck.

Swami leaving Angkor Wat

But here's the thing. We have decided to think of Swami as a low level Tulku. To put that in perspective, the Dalai Lama is a top level Tulku. Top level Tulkus have to leave their bodies (die) before they can reincarnate in a new body. It's much easier for low level Tulkus. They aren't incarnations. They are "incarnate emanations" which means that the original doesn't have to die for a new emanation to manifest. Get it? Copies can exist simultaneously. Slick, eh? And emanations can be just about anything, human beings, deities, rivers, bridges, medicinal plants, animals, trees, birds, art, crafts etc. I suppose even puppets and dolls. Confused yet? The Dalai Lama goes into lots of detail here but put simply, Swami is back!

Swami and the Big Buddha of Ko Kood

He's there, wherever there is, and he's here with us. For now he's in a strange little body made of coral, a piece I picked up on a lonely stretch of beach on Ko Kood. It had such an odd shape I couldn't resist. Okay. It called to me. And I just happened to have it with me in Angkor Wat when Swami disappeared. Of course, we will look for a little yellow guy with a big red smile. M. Lee has already begun searching online for a doll maker who has experience replicating them. Reconstructing Swami will be our winter project. As they say, life goes on.

Swami contemplating the full moon.
Ko Kood

Looking for Swami

Girl at Ta Keo helping us look for Swami

This little girl represents the last small chance that we may yet find Swami. She was at Ta Keo the day we lost him and helped when we went back the next day to look for him. I mentioned a cash reward and she shot up the temple's steep, narrow stairs and scoured the third level before I even got to the second. No luck, but we'll check with her one more time before we leave. If he's there, she'll find him. She's a smart kid.

Looking down the stone
stairs from Ta Keo's top level.

Of course my "problem" is inane. This child, who should be in school or off playing with her friends, is forced by extreme poverty to be a tout. It's so sad seeing kids on the street like this but there they are and the second you arrive at a site, they swarm and cajole you, hoping you'll buy something.

You have to ignore them, because, if you don't, if you say "no thank you", if you even glance at someone, if you do anything that in any way acknowledges their existence, they suck in closer and stick longer. They are well trained.

Touts working the tourists at Angkor Wat

So you learn to totally ignore them but they are kids, for god's sake. Why is this happening? Same as always, graft, cronyism. Increasing millions of tourist dollars flow into Angkor Wat yet the temples are not properly protected and Cambodians remain the poorest people in Asia. It sucks all around.