It’s been a while since I’ve written and published anything on this site. 2022 ended up being a busy year, balancing two jobs, enjoying the benefits of a renewed post-pandemic social life, all whilst continuing my Italian life experiment living in Bari in Puglia, Southern Italy. I took off for an extended period of travel in late-August, beginning with Vietnam and then moving onto Cambodia, Thailand and Laos, before deciding to fly over to North-East India to spend some time with family on my paternal grandmother’s side in Shillong, Meghalaya. I’ve been here since 24th October and as I’m lucky enough to be able to continue working remotely from here, am likely to remain in India until mid-April 2023.
Over the past couple of months, I’ve been ruminating about the significance of the name ‘The 2i’s’ (most familiar in modern pop culture as the name of an influential Soho coffee house-turned-music venue). Below is something of a sprawling, stream-of-consciousness piece of writing that looks back at my experiences over these past three years of living overseas, namely the curious similarities between India and Italy and what I’ve learned from the time I’ve spent in these countries. Much of this article flowed out of me one afternoon over numerous cups of coffee whilst sat on the balcony of Café Shillong in Laitumkhrah, Shillong. I’ve revisited and wordsmithed it a couple of times so hopefully it now resembles something coherent…
1.) The 2i’s. The Soho coffee bar that in the 1950s and ’60s became the birthplace of rock ‘n’ roll and the modern popular music industry as we know it today.
2.) The 2i’s. Italy and India. The two countries where I’ve decided to spend the majority of my time over these past three years.
3.) The 2i’s. The twins representing my astrological sign, Gemini. Geminis are said to have two sides to them but don’t we all? It’s not something I’ve paid a huge amount of attention to in the past but in India where I’m currently residing, people take astrology very seriously and prospective spouses are even matched, based on birth charts and compatibility readings.
1.) The 2i’s Coffee Bar, Soho, London
A coffee bar that was located in the basement of 59 Old Compton Street in the heart of London’s Soho, and as the Westminster City Council blue plaque outside it now proclaims, “the birthplace of rock ‘n’ roll’ and the modern popular music industry”. The likes of Cliff Richard, Hank Marvin, Tommy Steele, Adam Faith and Joe Brown were all discovered performing here and despite only having a standing capacity of 20, The 2i’s is arguably the most influential British music venue of the 20th century.
The bar was the inspiration behind Liverpool’s Casbah Coffee Club, which played a key role in the development of an early line-up of The Beatles, and Bruno Koschmider, the manager of Hamburg’s Kaiserkeller visited the bar in 1960 to scout out British musicians to play at his venue. Derry and The Seniors were one of the groups he spotted and Allan Williams, who looked after them was also the first manager of The Beatles and arranged for them to play a run of shows in Hamburg. The rest is history…
The 2i’s, 59 Old Compton Street. Soho, London.
The 2i’s’ name derived from the surname of its first owners, brothers Freddie and Sammy Irani and although it closed in 1970, the legacy it created lives on. Serendipitously, my final PR Director job before leaving London in 2019 was for a company based at 58 Old Compton Street, opposite the site of The 2i’s (it’s now home to Poppie’s Fish & Chips, although the rock and roll-themed basement seating area pays homage to its musical past). Music was pivotal in my formative years (particularly that of an off-kilter or rebellious nature), gave me an identity and the significance of working so close to a such revered part of pop music heritage was not lost on me.
2.) The 2i’s; Italy and India
Some people in life are destined to be seekers. Sal Paradise in Jack Kerouc’s ‘On The Road’ was one (not to mention Kerouac himself), as was Dorothy in ‘The Wizard of Oz’. Some even say that Elvis was a seeker and spent his life searching for a deeper meaning (his former wife Priscilla described him as “a searcher”). According to literary critic Dr A.J. Dranathi, seekers are individuals “questing for love, adventure, redemption and enlightenment” or to quote Holisticism.com, “may be highly-intuitive and feel guided to certain ideas or topics”.
The unlikely trio of Jack Kerouac, The Wizard of Oz’s Dorothy Gale and Elvis Presley.
When I left London three years ago, I was naturally and instinctively drawn to Italy and India. India was the first place I took off to, with my flight to Mumbai touching down in the early hours of 13th November 2019. Italy was then where I decided to temporarily adopt as home for the next two years, relocating to Bari in the South of the country in early January 2020.
A question I get asked a lot is “why Italy?” or “why India?”. My standard reply is that I have family in India on my grandmother’s side and that Italy was far enough away from Britain for a change but near enough to easily return if I needed to. However, looking a little deeper, the similarities between Italy and India are pronounced.
Firstly, in both countries, food is seen as sacrosanct. Both cultures greet guests with food as a way of expressing warmth and hospitality and meal times are seen as sacred and are not to be interfered with. The concept of grabbing a quick bit to eat for lunch or eating at your desk doesn’t exist in Italy (as is reflected by the 1.30pm – 5pm siesta or pisolino) and in India it’s very much the same. I’ve been scolded by Italians via Instagram for changing an ingredient or improvising on one of their revered traditional dishes and in both countries, each region has its own distinctive food culture, with dishes often being unrecognisable to neighbouring states. For example, Khasi food in Meghalaya tends to be milder than in the rest of India, whilst in Italy, Basilicata and Calabria in the South are the only regions that use chilli in their cooking. Both countries eat dinner late too; in Italy don’t even think about sitting down in a restaurant before 8.30pm and in India I’ve noticed that many families eat late in the evening as their final activity of the day, just prior to going to bed.
An Italian family in the Abruzzo region and an Indian family in West Bengal tucking in for lunch. Meal times are seen as sacred in both countries.
Family and community are also crucial to Indians and Italians too. I’ve written about this before, but in a way that’s very different to modern British and American society, many generations will live together under the same roof, or in the same complex or compound. Children, whilst raised by their parents, will often grow up under the watchful gaze of grandparents, aunts, uncles, great aunts, older cousins and so on. In many respects, it’s a much more natural way to be, with family members freely popping in and out of each other’s homes on a daily basis, rather than planning lengthier overnight, yet more sporadic visits.
I write this from the balcony of Café Shillong in Laitumkhrah, Shillong, whilst an 8,000-person-strong crowd marches along the street below me for the annual Roman Catholic Eucharistic procession. Religion plays a huge role in daily life in both Italy and India and surprisingly to many, the North-East Indian state of Meghalaya where my family resides, is predominantly Christian. Processions, rituals and regular religious holidays are recognised and respected as days of rest, with very few shops open after lunch and Sundays are strictly reserved by many families for church, with the large-scale events and concerts prohibited by the authorities.
The annual Roman Catholic Eucharistic procession (and much of this article coming together), Laitumkhrah, Shillong. November 2022.
The role that religion plays in providing a sense of community cannot be underestimated. On my tiny street in the Madonnella quarter of Bari, a shrine to Saint Antonio of Padua is lovingly cared-for and provides a focal point for the street’s residents, old and young alike. On various saint days, neighbours will gather next to the statuette for small services, saying prayers and singing hymns. Notably, many of the residents who take part in these ceremonies are elderly widows, emphasising the importance of the community aspect.
It’s not always as wholesome though; last summer the shrine provided me with one of the most enduring depictions of daily existence in inner city Bari. On a Saturday afternoon, one of the flats on the street was busted in a drug raid. As the plain clothes undercover police and their trusty Alsatian ransacked the building, the elderly ladies on the other side of the street were quietly beginning their service in reverence to Saint Antonio. The image of the raid and the service taking place simultaneously and metres away from each other entirely sums up my experience of life in Southern Italy. Religion and criminality co-existing side-by-side with nonnas and clan foot soldiers going about their daily business but with a mutual respect and understanding.
The shrine to Saint Antonio at various points throughout the year (Madonnella, Bari). In the final photo, if you squint through the balcony railings, you can just about see the police raid taking place to the right, whilst the Saint Antonio’s devotees prepare for their ceremony to the left.
Religion aside, both countries seems to be a lot less “I”-focussed than some of the more overtly capitalistic countries and despite the right-wing governments currently in power, at a personal level, the wider community is more important than the individual. News travels fast and births, deaths and marriages are celebrated and commemorated by the whole community. In Bari, I witnessed my entire street clapping and shouting neighbourly cries of “ciao!” as an elderly lady was loaded into an ambulance by boiler-suited paramedics during the peak of the first Covid crisis. Luckily, she survived and returned to the street a few weeks later. Italian births are celebrated by the placement of coloured ribbons on the front door of the family home and deaths are marked equally publically with large billboard-style posters (often with photo) being put up outside the home of the deceased or in the town square.
In Shillong, a few weeks ago, I attended a funereal gathering at the home of a Khasi lady who had recently passed away. I’m not exaggerating when I say that there were hundreds paying their respects. Whilst respectful, the mood wasn’t entirely sombre either with plates of Khasi food being served up by helpful neighbours, the younger members of the family of the deceased running around tirelessly serving tea and biscuits, not to mention the large groups of local men who had gathered, smoking cigarettes and chewing kwai (betel nut).
Apparently in Shillong, it’s customary to hold large gatherings like this after a death, and for three days after the passing, the family feel it is their duty to open the doors of their home to whoever wishes to pay their respects. Only a few days ago, I attended the funeral of a much-loved teacher and college owner in the town of Nongpoh, 50 kilometres away from Shillong. The service was attended by hundreds and lasted for nearly five hours with several eulogies from friends, family members and colleagues, biblical readings and songs. In some ways, funerals here are less formal affairs than in Europe and whoever would like to say a few words about the deceased is strongly encouraged to, regardless of whether they are on the official order-of-ceremony or not.
I gave myself two years (and extended it to three years, due to Covid) for this period of ever-so-slightly transient, soul-searching travel to last for. Whatever this next chapter holds, the impact of living in Italy and spending an extended period of time in India will stay with me a very long time, in particular the emphasis both cultures place on community and family.
3.) The 2i’s; the supposed split personality of a Gemini
This talk of religion and the holistic benefits of community leads me nicely to a word about spirituality.
Astrology is something I’ve always taken with a pinch of salt, however in some Indian cultures it’s taken extremely seriously indeed. I had the realisation a few months ago in Italy, that ‘The 2i’s’ were quite literally the symbol of my star sign; the twins of Gemini. It is said that Geminis have two markedly different sides to them and that the twins represent this. I would argue that most people do, however, I have realised that whilst I’m naturally open and extrovert and am someone who enjoys chatting to strangers and gets energy from being with others, there is also another side of me that is introspective, looking for meaning or significance in everything and is actually quite shy in certain situations. With friends (or strangers) in a pub or a café I can be a picture of sociability but put me in an institutionalised setting like the staffroom or a networking event and sometimes I can clam up and will want to get out of there as soon as politely possible.
Whatever our thoughts about astrology, a tradition that really stood out to me in Vietnam was the worship of ancestors. In many Vietnamese homes and offices, a simple shrine will be made with photos of deceased loved ones and often some burning incense and candles, as well as gifts of fruit and sweets. Whilst rooted in ancient folk beliefs, the tradition almost seems devoid of organised religion and leaning more to humanism and the worship of nature (in many ways, humans being no different to other animals, eventually returning to nature and the earth). The practice of ancestor worship is grounded in the Vietnamese beliefs that the past and present exist simultaneously and that the actions in our lives will directly affects the lives of our future descendants.
The twins of Gemini depicted in the 14th century Arabic astrological ‘Book of Wonders’, a typical ancestral shrine in Hanoi, Vietnam and Acharn Helen Jandamit.
In October in Bangkok, Thailand I spent 10 hours in the company of Helen Jandamit, a Vipassana meditation (or “insight meditation”) acharn at her home in the Chatuchak district of the city. Helen was originally raised in Wimbledon, South London but moved to Bangkok to settle with her late Thai husband Vorasak. She had unknowingly started practising meditation aged five, whilst sitting under a folding table in her family home and focusing her attention intensely on a crack of sunlight, shining through a gap between the pieces of wood. For the past 40 years, Helen has dedicated her life to teaching Vipassana meditation, was ordained by the Mook Rim Society (Korean Zen) for 11 years and has worked with both the Young Buddhists Association of Thailand and the Mahachulalongkorn Buddhist University.
Helen taught me the main core principles of Buddhism’s ‘Middle Way’ or ‘Noble Eightfold Path’ and tellingly, explained that practising Buddhists are encouraged to teach others about what they have learned on their journey and that this is one of the core foundations of the religion. We then spent some time practising Vipassana walking and sitting meditation.
It took some time for us to warm up, but eventually Helen and I were chatting away about her journey, what had brought me to South-East Asia and her firm opinion that many educational organisations around the world today are failing students by neglecting to teach them about looking after their mental health and wellbeing. “Too many of us are sleepwalking through our lives”, she went onto explain.
The meditation itself was a challenge, particularly at the beginning (the walking meditation with the exaggerated foot movements and “intention statements” was hard to get used to). However, towards the end of the day, things got a little easier and during the seated meditation practice (during which the words “rising” and “falling” are repeated silently in your mind), I began to see closed-eye patterns and blue-tinted visuals and emerged from the sessions feeling refreshed.
Helen explained that 30 minutes of focused meditation is apparently worth the equivalent of three hours’ sleep, in terms of its restorative effects. She also seemed strangely touched when I asked her what emotions or sensations she had felt during our meditation session. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before”, she remarked. Helen runs the House of Dhamma meditation and healing centre in Chatuchak, Bangkok and more information is available here.
Three years ago, whilst staying at The Kokum Tree in Lonere, Maharashtra, I learned the basics of yoga one early morning with its co-owners Anuja and Sneha (two cousins who had left the corporate world of Mumbai to start an experiential homestay on their grandmother’s farm). Today there aren’t many days on which I don’t do my regular morning practice (although, in fairness, there isn’t a lot of stillness and it’s more of a workout / stretching exercise) and I’m eternally grateful to Anuja and Sneer for introducing me to yoga. Incorporating meditation into daily life has been more of a challenge since my time with Helen though. The ‘lizard’ part of my brain always seems to be naturally more inclined to fill moments of stillness with seven-minute workouts, responding to WhatsApp messages or emails or just doing something. It’s as if I’m fighting a sense of guilt for being lazy or not doing something. However, I am persevering.
The Kokum Tree homestay in Lonere, Maharashtra and its owners Anuja and Sneha with grandmother Aaji and Dr. Gabor Maté and his latest book, ‘The Myth of Normal’.
I’ve been listening to, and reading a lot of physician and renowned author Dr. Gabor Maté’s work recently and particularly, his pioneering work on childhood trauma, addiction and self-worth. Maté believes that up to 90 percent of us are addicts, as a result of the unhealed trauma wounds that we carry with us from our early development years (not just the big ‘T’ traumas such as abuse, neglect and death of a loved one but also the smaller ‘T’ traumas such as stress at home, bullying from peers and repeated harsh comments by well-meaning but emotionally blunt teachers). Whilst alcohol, drugs, gambling and sex are the obvious addictions, Maté claims that perfectionism, workaholicism and a “compulsion to do” are also hidden addictions and can often be just as damaging to our mental and physical health. This has only been exacerbated by the prevalence of smartphones and our age of increased hyper-connectivity.
Perhaps incorporating more time for stillness and as Helen Jandamit describes it, “bare awareness” is something to make a priority.
A final word from Kevin Parker
I first remember hearing Tame Impala’s ‘The Moment’ whilst driving a white Jeep Cherokee along Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles with my good mate Anna as company in August 2015. The song was a progression from the Australian band’s psychedelic garage rock roots and sounded both reflective and futuristic, with an echoed chorus refrain of “it’s getting closer”. The track immediately stood out to me and seven years on, the song still kept rearing its head at various moments during my recent jaunt around Vietnam.
Tame Impala frontman Kevin Parker later explained that he wrote ‘The Moment’ and the whole of the ‘Currents’ album whilst he was experiencing his ‘Saturn Return‘, a period of significant life transition that is said to occur around the ages of 29, 58 and 84 (the same time it takes for the planet to orbit the sun – every 29.5 years). Parker was resolute in his belief that this astrological phenomenon was one of the underlying reasons for the period of major change in his life and the resulting reflective nature of his work around this time.
After these three years overseas, am I any clearer about my purpose and the life I want to live in the future? It’s getting closer…