_"LIVE from Mongolia!"_

Why I've Hesitated to Leave New York City

2013-05-04T11:40:00.001-04:00

For the first time, I've hesitated to leave New York. I've left this city before, but I've never really looked backward as I went. Suddenly, all the memories, those indelible markers of a time gone by, have become vivid as if they're all happening simultaneously, presently. It's become clear that what I'd thought was maybe just a little forgettable was anything but.

Somewhat belatedly, I suppose I've realized that I haven't actually fallen out of love with New York, despite what I've told myself. From the moment my husband and I had discussed leaving - leaving for good - I'd convinced myself that New York and I were done. That I was sick of the noise, the crowds, the air that smells always of a dirty brown color. I'd convinced myself that I was finally ready for a long-distance relationship with the city I'd fallen in love with as a little kid growing up in Cincinnati.

But, today, the memories keep pulling me back, though I'm already gone.

Sunrise over Dumbo, Brooklyn

There was that first apartment in the big city with Lisa. I was twenty-two years young then and living on Park Avenue, working on Wall Street. I'd never worked so hard to make it to a place, and with Lisa, I felt like I'd arrived. I was so broke during those early days that I quietly helped myself to the leftovers she brought home from her job at Le Cirque, and that very hot summer of 1997 I dressed in front of the freezer because I couldn't afford to buy an air-conditioning unit.

Then there were George and Mike. Mike and Lisa and George and I tried to double-date, but where Mike and Lisa would briefly succeed, George and I would spend the better part of a decade in a When-Harry-Met-Sally friendship, always discussing the "What if", but never quite certain enough to actually explore it. All those years later, when George died suddenly, I'll never forget how New York rained and rained and rained. The city was colored perpetually gray then, and there was no way out of how devastated we all were.

For a while there, I'd even left New York. I'd lived in Asia and London. Now and again, I'd come home on business trips and being back in the city always felt, well, obvious, the way it feels to pull on a weathered old leather jacket that you've owned for so long you can't remember when and where you bought it. There were midnight slices of pie, surly bartenders with waxed moustaches calling themselves mixologists, and nights at home staring from my apartment to the city spread out below me and in front of me. There was that sense that anything was possible, and every conversation I had seemed to reflect just that. That's the sort of dialogue that takes place in New York City, a place where people come to make their dreams come true. I, however, had to leave to make my dreams come true.

So when I did come home, one last time supposedly for good, there were Christina and Katie and Hebe, who made me feel like I'd never left at all. They offered me exactly what New York offered me: the feeling of being home.

Of course, there were also new friends who quickly became old friends. Netta sat with me in the East Village the night before I'd briefly leave the city once again to follow a dream I'd been grappling with for many years. Together, we spun round and round on the giant sculpture in Astor Place, talking through just one more time what it meant to leave everything behind to follow a dream. Years later, Sonia and I would do the same. Despite the years in between the two friendships, the conversation was no different: what does it take, really, to leave all this behind?

And it was Meghan who answered. Meghan had said, presciently, many years earlier during a snowy night, a magical evening in an incandescent city blanketed in white, that, "If you stay here in New York, only one thing can happen. But if you go follow your dream, anything can happen." And so the going began again.

Manhattan Bridge, from Abhaya Yoga

And the going-again took me to everywhere: Africa, Mongolia, North Korea, Tibet, Nepal. But the coming home was secretly my favorite part. Every October, I'd do my best to make sure I was home in New York. Every October, I'd find a cigarette, a single cigarette, and make my way to 9th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues and sit in the dusk on someone's stoop and light up. For a while there, it was my stoop. Later, it was someone else's, but it would always be my block. My block in my town in the crisp October air, street lamps twinkling a backdrop to whatever I was thinking at the time.

After a while though, I stopped noticing these things. I'd simply forgotten that I loved New York. I began to take my home for granted, grumbling about the noise, the crowds, and the air that smelled always of a dirty brown color. Besides, I'd fallen in love with someone else, with a man, in that spectacular way you do when you walk down an aisle and bring a baby into the world. Without thinking, I'd let go of New York. I'd said goodbye long before that day this week when I boarded an airplane and watched, one last time, as we taxied away from Manhattan.

Now I'm on the road, pondering all those moments in between. Wondering precisely when I'll return home. Knowing, really though, that home is about to be somewhere else, somewhere new, with its own set of moments in between.

I'll be blogging from the road, probably a tad less nostalgically?, in the weeks to come. First stop is Loveland, OH. Then China, Mongolia, and ultimately...New Zealand! Join me for the journey by liking "LIVE from Mongolia" on Facebook.

-Patricia Sexton is the author of "LIVE from Mongolia!", the true story of a woman chucking in her Wall Street career to follow her dream to become anchor of the Mongolian news. Her book will be published by Beaufort Books in the fall of 2013. Follow her on Twitter at "LIVE from Mongolia!"

Ludwig Persik: A Star Being Born

2013-04-22T11:12:00.000-04:00

Vol. I, No. 8

Every once in a while you get to witness a star being born. Imagine if you'd had that chance with your favorite artist. What would it have been like to watch one of the greats rise from just a kid with raw talent to a truly remarkable household name? In Ludwig Persik, you can watch just that happening. He's on his way, and here's a sliver of his story...

Ludwig was five years old when he started making music. And I'm not talking about the kind of music you whip up on a Fisher Price plastic keyboard. I'm talking about Ludwig teaching himself to use his dad's four-track tape recorder to, as he puts it, "manipulate sound."

And he wasn't just making music. He was falling in love. With the art of music. At home, he memorized and sang the lyrics to everything from The Beatles to Velvet Underground's Heroin and Sex Pistols' Liar. Back then, Ludwig was growing up in Manhattan's Lower East Side, and for him, this music set the scene to his surroundings.

Anyway, by the time high school rolled around, Ludwig was a veteran of the music world. But he was still in school and he had to make a choice - to pursue his dream to make music, or to follow the more mainstream path of using his intellect to get into a good school. For me, someone who regularly profiles people following their dreams, Ludwig's inflection point is an interesting one: at a very young age, Ludwig had made an unusual realization, which was that he'd have to struggle in any competitive field in any career. So why not do what he loves and persevere in that competitive field?

So that's just what Ludwig decided to do. He formed a band and gave up his chance to study at an esteemed school. This was not without its moments though - moments of loneliness, tested faith, and "serious shedding of ego" as he says - but Ludwig managed to remain steadfast to his own path, realizing, as he says himself that "the grass is always greener when you generalize your own personal problems, pitting them against your own projections of the world outside your own."

Now Ludwig is once again embracing the fear of the unknown, using what he doesn't know to begin the next chapter in what he considers a lifelong path of learning. And what is that next chapter? Well, he has just gone on tour in Europe and America, playing solo and opening for Jamie Lidell. And, Ludwig has his first single coming out. It's called "No Go / Storm" (released by Iris Records) and it's debuting April 23.

It's incredible - a star is being born. A haunting, elegiac star of a performer whose music will really stick to your ribs.

Above is Ludwig's official music video for "Hallway Light". Follow him on Twitter and on his website at www.ludwigpersik.com. Buy his new album here.

Tian Hao Jiang: From Factory Worker to Opera Singer

2013-03-21T09:56:00.000-04:00

Sinovision's WE Talk airs on Sundays at 8:25pm on WMBC and online

Special Edition

Tian Hao Jiang spent six years working in a factory, until one day a chance meeting changed everything. As Tian puts it, "Three minutes changed my life." So how did this factory worker end up singing onstage at the NY Met with none other than Pavarotti? Click below to watch my WE Talk interview with opera great, Tian Hao Jiang. And if you've had an experience where a single moment changed the rest of your life, write me! Maybe your story will be next on LIVE from Mongolia!

George Rhee: Building Bakeries in North Korea

2013-03-07T14:10:00.000-05:00

Vol. I, No. 7

George Rhee has a very unusual dream. In fact, George Rhee has a very unusual story.

George Rhee (courtesy George Rhee)

George comes by way of North Korea. His father was born in the North in 1923, and escaped to the South in 1950 when the Korean War began. In 1958, when George came along, the Rhee family was so poor that eventually they had to orphan George for a year just so he could have a meal. Unfortunately, the orphanage wasn't faring much better. Oftentimes it didn't even have food to serve any meals at all. So it wasn't long before George suffered severe malnutrition, and he was sent to the hospital. It was there at the hospital that George's life changed - forever.

While in the hospital, George met some missionaries. One thing led to another, and soon he was studying theology. In 1990, he went to London, was granted British citizenship, and had a son of his own. And then he got to thinking. About paying a visit to North Korea.

Of course, North Korea is a difficult place to get to. But George had a British passport, and so he was granted approval to travel there. And in 2001, he arrived in his father's country. It was there that George saw a simple need: to feed the orphaned children. And he got to thinking. About orphans. About his father's past in North Korea. About...baking.

George's dream, he realized, was to open bakeries to feed the orphans in North Korea. So, that's just what George did.

"Happy eyes after meal" from George's website www.nkchildren.org

I know, I know; the mind boggles, right? A South Korean man from a North Korean family decides to open bakeries for orphans in the most secluded country on the planet? How...on...earth?

Well, every journey begins with a single step, and George's first step was to register a charity once he returned to the U.K. Then he got working on the particulars of opening bakeries. In February 2006, sourcing his ingredients from China and his workers locally in North Korea, he opened his first bakery. Then he opened two more. At that point, he was handing out ten thousand slices of bread - every single day. And all of it was free.

Flour delivery (courtesy George's website)

It wasn't easy though. In order to pursue his dream, George had to be away from his family two to three months at a time every year. When I asked George if there was anything easy in this whole process, I should have expected the answer I got. "I feel that nothing is easy," George says. And to his credit, I suppose nothing is. Not when your dream is this unusual, when you're tucking into the likes of North Korea. To bake. For orphans.

George feeding the orphans (courtesy George's website)

By now, George has opened dozens of bakeries. He's saved countless lives. He's fed thousands of children, and employed scores of North Koreans. You too might like to give George a hand. He needs it.

To read more about George's bakeries and clinics, click here: www.nkchildren.org
To donate to George's charity, click here.
To read about George's next dream, click here.

My 2009 visit to Pyongyang, North Korea

This post is dedicated to George Chatzopoulos, another unforgettable George who lived an unforgettable life.

Alan Gilbert: Director of the New York Philharmonic

2013-02-13T10:25:00.002-05:00

Sinovision's WE Talk airs on Sunday at 8:25PM on WMBC and online

Special Edition

Alan Gilbert is one of the world's most famous conductors. Born into a musical family, his career seems pre-destined for greatness. But how does one end up achieving the role of...conductor?! Find out - watch as I sit down with the maestro to see what he thinks about the determination it takes to pursue a path, and what he thinks of blind dates!

Follow WE Talk on Twitter. And follow WE Talk's host on Twitter (that's me!).

Pietra Brettkelly: A kiwi storyteller telling the most unlikely stories

2013-01-08T12:06:00.000-05:00

Vol. I, No. 6

I don't know about you, but when I hear about someone who's met Colonel Gaddafi, trekked on horseback in the Hindu Kush, and makes films on some of the world's most off-the-beaten-paths, I have one burning question: how on earth did he make these things happen for himself?

Clearing a mountainside with the villagers in the Hindu Kush

Well, in this case, he's a she, and a formidable 'she' at that.

Director-Producer Pietra Brettkelly was 12 years old when she decided to become a storyteller. Well, that's only partially true. Pietra is from New Zealand, but she's of Irish descent, and so she considers storytelling to be a part of her heritage, an undeniable strand of her DNA. But it was when she was 12 that Pietra first discovered Sunday night TV programming: long-form journalism, documentary style. She asked her 'mum' who it was that was behind the camera. Eventually, she would be.

A few years later, like all New Zealanders, Pietra strapped on a backpack and left home to see the world. A few more years later, she came home. It was then that she got her break into the world of television. She'd been given her chance, and she took it. Pietra's sense of adventure paired with her inquisitiveness would be the perfect marriage. As she gamely puts it, "I meet people or go to places and want to ask too many questions, so what better way than to make a documentary, thereby being allowed to ask lots of questions? Being a filmmaker is a license to be inquisitive without seeming like a weirdo!"

Of course, there were things Pietra had to give up. Some of it she cared about, some of it she didn't. She's never wanted a big house, a nice car, or the material pleasantries that many of us collect. She does, however, fight loneliness, for she travels constantly and is never able to pay regular visits to friends and family.

Pietra Brettkelly in Libya, courtesy of Pietra Brettkelly

So, that in mind, Pietra began to make films. Extraordinary films. There was the one about the art popstar - who is very white - adopting very black Sudanese twin babies. There was the one about the impact of 9/11 and global terrorism on a local Maori tribe in unarmed New Zealand. She even met Colonel Muammar Gaddafi, yes in person, and filmed yet another unlikely story: a beauty pageant in Libya, hosted by the colonel himself!

Pietra's films are breathtaking, adventurous, often controversial, and as inquisitive as the filmmaker herself. She's premiered at the big film festivals, and won awards for her documentary storytelling. But, incredibly, when I ask her what her dream is, she says she's not quite sure, that for her, her dream changes all the time. I know a few of you out there reading this who know just what Pietra's dream is. I know I do. She's living it. As Pietra says, "In some way, I love my work, every day, even when it's all incredibly difficult and not going well. It has variety and intrigue and keeps me passionate about this world we live in and the extraordinary people who live in it."

Ngaa Rauuira kapa haka group, from Maori Boy Genius

I met Pietra back in December, when she was premiering her latest film, Maori Boy Genius, at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. This film moved me so; it struck me physically, to the point of choking back tears. Through Pietra's own lens of following her dream, pursuing it to the ends of the earth, she tells the story of a young Maori boy who embarks on his own seemingly impossible dream, who also must follow it to the ends of the earth. If you've ever had a dream, and subsequently doubted yourself, but still wondered if any part of it was still possible, this film will change your world. It did mine.

Go on and see for yourself. Click the link below to watch the trailer of Maori Boy Genius.

Trailer for Maori Boy Genius, courtesy of Pietra Brettkelly

Following a Culinary Dream: A Chance to Help Sandy Victims

2012-12-14T12:20:00.000-05:00

Vol. I, No. 5

Many of you have asked how to help victims of Hurricane Sandy. Here's a chance to do just that, and help someone rebuild his dream.

Brad McDonald was in college studying business when he realized he didn't want to be studying business. As a kid, he'd wanted to explore the world. He had no idea that he'd one day fulfill his dream to explore by becoming a chef - and experiencing culture through cuisine.

While still in school, Brad changed his major to something a little more creative, and he began cooking. As a matter of fact, he cooked full-time while earning his degree. And we all know a thing or two about doing what you love: when you don't have any time for it, and you make time for it anyway, magic begins to happen.

Eventually, Brad's magic arrived in New York. He began to open restaurants, teaming up with people just as passionate as he is about the exploration of food. Earlier this year, they opened Governor in Dumbo, Brooklyn. And it was the kind of success that gets The New York Times' Pete Wells gushing.

And then Hurricane Sandy hit.

Photo courtesy of Michael Harlan Turkell

Five feet of water in the restaurant destroyed pretty much everything: wood finishing, electronics, kitchen equipment, decor.

Photo courtesy of Michael Harlan Turkell

Brad and his team were devastated, but not without perspective. As Brad has commented in an interview with nonabrooklyn.com, "We don't want to lament our own fate too much without realizing that there are other people out there who have lost far more than we have. We can recover from this."

So, I'd like to propose a toast - to a beautiful attitude, to pursuing a dream, and, for those of us who can, to helping Brad and his team getting back on their feet. In fact, Brad says it best when he talked to me about teamwork: "When others believe in you, it is far more achievable to believe in yourself."

All you dreamers out there, let's help Brad and his team. Here is a link to donate to the rebuilding effort for Governor.

And here is a link to helping One Girl Cookies, Governor's next-door neighbor and home to the best cupcake I've ever, ever eaten. (Why? Crumb you can sink your teeth into, decadent and rich icing.)

Finally, if you're in the neighborhood of Dumbo this weekend, there will be a pop-up fundraiser for Almondine Bakery. Some of New York's finest pastry chefs (Le Bernardin, Bouchon, Boulud)) are rallying in support of Herve Poussot, owner of Almondine and one of my favorite pastry wizards (if you haven't had his blueberry muffin, you haven't lived).

Pop-up fundraiser: Saturday & Sunday, 12/15-12/16, 10am-6pm. At 85 Water St in Dumbo, Brooklyn.

Brad McDonald and his team, photo courtesy of Michael Harlan Turkell

Lang Lang: From Child Prodigy to Concert Pianist

2012-12-07T10:03:00.000-05:00

Sinovision's WE Talk airs on Sundays at 8:30PM on WMBC 63.3

Special Edition

Lang Lang is one of the world's most celebrated classical pianists. But he's only thirty years old! Watch my WE Talk interview with this extraordinarily talented artist, who had to overcome quite a painful struggle before even his tenth birthday. If you've ever believed in something, even when no one else did, you'll enjoy watching how Lang Lang continued to believe in himself.

Follow WE Talk on Twitter. Follow WE Talk's host on Twitter (that's me!).

Darion D'Anjou: From a Boy's Dream to His Grown-Up Reality

2012-11-28T10:40:00.000-05:00

Vol. I, No. 4

Until Dec. 1st: Artist Darion offers you a chance to become a character in his comic strip novel!

When you were ten years old, what did you think you wanted to be when you grew up? And by the time you you grew up, what did you actually end up doing with your life?

For Darion D'Anjou, that ten-year-old's dream of his happens to also be his reality. As a kid, Darion had a big imagination, and he loved telling stories. As an adult and approaching his fortieth birthday, Darion still has a big imagination, and he still loves telling stories, so much so that he's devoted his life to it. In particular though, Darion has honed his craft as a graphic novelist, someone who writes and creates a plot line through long-format comics. Yes, you read that right: Darion D'Anjou is a comic strip artist. His specialty is science fiction, and better than me telling you how good his work is, I'll let you see for yourself.

But first, let me give you a chance to help Darion fulfill his dream. Unlike some of the other dreamers featured on this LIVE from Mongolia! blog, Darion still has a day job as a software contractor. I have no idea what that means exactly, but compared to creating novels out of comic strips, I think we all ought to lend Darion a hand in helping him take that final leap towards full-time graphic novelist. As Darion himself puts it, "My dream is to keep making these books...exclusively."

So, let's give Darion a hand, and help him take that final leap of faith to fulfill his dream. But, wait, it's better than just helping! Darion is actually offering you, yes you, the chance to be a character in one of his novels! Your character might even be killed, in dramatic fashion of course, which is frankly the coolest part. What better way to spend your money than to live forever in a comic-strip novel series as someone who dies in spectacular fashion?

Of course, it's a little pricey to appear as a character in a book, but I know some of you reading this post are bankers, and I know this is just the sort of thing I'd have bought for myself or a friend, back when I was in banking. For $1000, Darion will draw and write you into his story. And then he will kill you. You'll receive a signed copy of the book, and you'll get a few other perks that you can read about here.

Can't afford to see yourself killed in someone's novel? Me neither. Instead...

For $35, you'll receive a signed copy of his graphic novel.

For $50, you'll get a signed copy, your name in lights on his website, and, shh, some insider material that you'll have to click here for.

For $100, you'll get a signed copy, name in lights, that insider stuff, a signed DVD with trailer, and a playview version featuring the original musical score. Click here.
*International shipping is available on all items.

But enough from me! Let's hear it from Darion himself, who has guest-blogged a sample of his novel.

From GENETIKA: Gene, Book I by Darion D'Anjou

Would you risk your life to live forever?

Dr. Mia Allandressy reverse engineers the Fountain of Youth drug.

Graphic novel “Genetika: Gene, book i” addresses this high concept question in the context of a fast-paced, thought-provoking science fiction thriller.

Dr. Eugene Poulos is a young genetics whiz on the biotechnology corporate fast track. When Gene uncovers a secret group with the key to the fountain of youth among other technologies light years ahead of anything that should be possible, Gene quickly finds himself alienated from family and friends, on the run from the police, wanted by the FBI, and worst of all hunted by a group of people who see and hear farther, think and move faster, never sleep, live forever, and who will stop at nothing to maintain the privileged secrecy of their existence.

Dr. Manny Kowzslinski races to free his research data to the world

“Genetika: Gene, book i” is the first in a coming series of graphic novels which deal with cloning, immortality, and the ongoing struggle for power and technology.

Gene enters his own dreams, looking for the code to Regen

Young Gene's vision is blurred by insecurities

Genetika dramatizes the extreme gap between those who are enlightened and the rest. Each wave of new technology confronts us with a flood of new ethical and emotional challenges, and it is at that junction that the Genetika story universe lives.

-Darion D'Anjou November 2012

Reserve your exclusive copy of the debut graphic novel “Genetika: Gene, book i” now, and be a part of launching this hip science fiction thriller series:

Back the GENETIKA KickstarterCampaign, Ending Soon!

Somaly Mam: A Reason to Be Thankful This Thanksgiving

2012-11-22T11:10:00.000-05:00

Vol. I, No. 3

Somaly Mam doesn’t know when she was born, and doesn’t know her real name. She’s from Cambodia, and she grew up an orphan. For a time, Somaly survived on other people’s kindnesses for food and shelter. And then a man took her in whom she refers to as Grandfather. Eventually, he sold her to a brothel. “I was born without love,” Somaly says simply, as a way of explaining how this sort of transaction can take place between a child and an adult.

Courtesy of Somaly Mam Foundation

Somaly was actually one of the lucky ones. She made it out of the brothel, many years later, and lived to tell about it. Some of her companions did not. As one of the other women put it, who was sold into sex slavery at the age of four, “A few moments of his pleasure killed me.” That woman had contracted AIDS from one of the brothel’s clients; those were her dying words.

And herein a point: Somaly and her team of survivors and activists refer to the men who frequent the brothels as “clients”. This is curious to me, because what they are is rapists. These women and little girls have no choice in the matter of when or whether they’ll have sex, and as Somaly described it, none of the girls “was even given a teaspoon of water to wash with for an entire day spent with clients.”

Of course, this is all very difficult to comprehend, isn’t it? It’s distant and surreal to imagine a parent figure selling a child into slavery, sex slavery no less. But it is real, and we actually can help.

For starters, Somaly’s story is not just a devastating account of evil. It’s a story of a woman’s journey from a terrible past to a present of empowerment and joy and light. As she puts it, she “believes in real and true love without any conditions.” And yes, this means forgiveness. All the things you can’t believe someone can talk about when they’ve lived what they’ve lived. Somaly and her team of survivors and activists have rescued more than seven thousand enslaved women! (To read more about how they do this, click here.)

Courtesy of Somaly Mam Foundation

And this is where you come in. You can actually help Somaly. Those survivors, the ones who’ve grown up in the brothels and have been rescued, are also creators. They craft handmade sterling silver necklaces, beautiful scarves, cufflinks, and other gift items that would be so very meaningful to receive this holiday season. And, Somaly has actually published a book about her journey. Just in time for the holidays, you can make a real difference.

What could Somaly’s dream be, you ask? After all, this is a blog about people who follow extraordinary paths in life. Well, as Somaly puts it, “My dream is to have more and more survivors.”

Let's help her achieve just that.

Read more about Somaly at www.somaly.org.

Somaly Mam, right, and me. Photo courtesy of Andrea Reese

The Funny Indian: From Corporate America to Comedian!

2012-11-05T09:44:00.000-05:00

Vol. I, No. 2

“Basically, I’m just waiting for millions of people to know what I already know: that I’m awesome.”

–Rajiv

When Rajiv was thirty years old, he flipped out, although he probably shouldn’t have. Rajiv was working as a marketer for consumer products giant Procter & Gamble and earning six figures. He had a nice car and lived in a nice house. He had everything he thought he should want. But, he’d run into an old friend.

“You?” the old friend had said. “I’m so disappointed in you.”

Of course, the remark had nothing to do with Rajiv’s success. And, it hadn’t surprised him either. Ten years earlier, Rajiv had made a late-night declaration at a diner – we’ve all been there, the forgettable nocturnal remark, made over pancakes and eggs, that evolves into an unforgettable oath. One day, Rajiv had sworn back then, he’d be famous. But, he’d said glumly, “There are no famous materials engineers!”

His friend, the one who’d declared her disappointment in Rajiv, had aptly pointed out all this and more to him, and she hadn’t been the only one to do so. Rajiv’s own brother had told him he didn’t want to end up like Rajiv had ended up, giving up on his dream.

Harsh words, but not untrue.

For many years, Rajiv had dreamed of becoming a comedian, a ‘comic’ as the funny folk say. While at Procter & Gamble, still in his twenties, Rajiv had even performed late-night stand-up. And he’d always kept his “number” in mind, the amount of money it would take to leave his job behind to pursue his dream. For Rajiv, that number was $25,000.

So, right around the time he turned thirty, Rajiv reached his financial goal. And, he said, something struck him: “At thirty, I knew I didn’t want to be forty knowing I could’ve done it.” And “it” was what people all along had been telling him makes his eyes light up: comedy.

And here I’ll insert a personal note. Of all the people I’ve met and interviewed from New York to New Zealand and China and even to North Korea and Mongolia, I’ve never met a single person, not one, who’s talked about the thing they’re passionate about without their eyes lighting up or welling up. Not a single person. It’s like they’re suddenly switched on.

But back to Rajiv, whose seminal moment had come.

After a frank conversation with his boss, Rajiv bit the bullet and resigned from his job at Procter & Gamble. Without much adieu, he doubted himself and took another corporate job, where he lasted only a few months. And then he wrote a very un-comedian-like sixty-five-page action plan detailing how he would achieve his dream.

Another personal note: in my experience, people who follow dreams don’t walk in a straight line. They, we, have doubts. We sidestep, backtrack, stumble, and occasionally fail miserably. But, we march on. And that’s just what Rajiv would do.

Anyway, after simultaneously quitting and getting fired from that new corporate job, Rajiv embarked upon the path he'd always dreamed of. He sold his house and moved from Cincinnati to Los Angeles. He began performing stand-up regularly. He started getting gigs in a lot of places: Ottawa. Oman. Switzerland.

I met Rajiv back in the summer, when things were looking very, very up for him. He's 36 years old now, and quips that he's a “Recovering Corporate American”. As we talked, I had to ask him several times to just...stop. I was nine months pregnant then and every time Rajiv spoke, I had to gasp for air; I was laughing that hard. For instance, as Rajiv himself explained, he's overwhelmed by the thought of Helen Keller, whom he finds completely uninspiring. As he puts it, “She was deaf, dumb, and blind, and has accomplished more than I have.”

By now, Rajiv has repeatedly opened for the likes of Dave Chappelle, Tim Allen, Kevin Nealon, and Russell Peters. He co-founded the world-touring Make Chai Not War (A Hindu/Muslim show that traversed seven Indian cities in 2012, and is sponsored by the U.S. State Department and the Standpoint Agency). He has spoken to audiences from Fortune 500 companies to NFL players - on subjects ranging from innovation, diversity, and personal branding. Yes, he can make even those subjects funny. Rajiv has garnered more than two million Youtube views, performed on three continents, and been featured on NBC and NPR, and in the Wall Street Journal, The Huffington Post, and the L.A. Times. He does stand-up at dozens of colleges each year and at comedy clubs all over L.A. Rajiv records a weekly podcast, acts in funny commercials, and writes humorous ads. His favorite sites in the whole world are...his own. You can follow him on Facebook at facebook.com/funnyindian and on Twitter at twitter.com/funnyindian. Make sure you check out his website funnyindian.com!

As Rajiv says himself, he’s good at getting people in a room to do what he wants. Which, of course, is laugh. His ultimate goal, the real nod of approval from the comedy world, is to get his own late-night television gig. Watch this space as he does just that. Come to think of it, don’t take it from me; watch the video of Rajiv’s act to see for yourself!

This blog will be following Rajiv’s story so make sure to tune in for updates. Follow me on Twitter at twitter.com/PatriciaSexton. Also, be sure to check out my book, which is now available on Amazon.com for pre-order. No surprise, it's the true story of what can happen when you follow your wildest dream in life!

Introducing the Dream Series!

2012-10-26T12:26:00.000-04:00

Vol. I, No. 1

It all started in Mongolia.

In 2006 in Ulan Bator, the Mongolian capital, I met an intrepid Irish couple with an unusual dream. Back then, I was pursuing a dream of my own. I'd just resigned from a banking job on Credit Suisse's New York trading floor to move to Mongolia. I'd always dreamed of working in television and news. In Ulan Bator, I'd found an internship at Mongolia National Broadcaster, the country's state-owned television station. As luck and irony would have it, one of the first stories I covered was of someone else pursuing their own dream.

It was that intrepid Irish couple. They too had just left their corporate jobs behind--to pursue their dream to cycle, yes bicycle, from Ireland to Mongolia.

What will her dream be? (Photo by Joe Sexton)

Anyway, I began to meet a lot of other people following unusual dreams. Really unusual dreams: an Italian man who left his textiles job to make the world's finest mozzarella cheese in Mongolia, a Frenchwoman who left her corporate job to track endangered horses in the wilds of Khustain, a Mongolian student who left agriculture school to become a rapper. And so on.

Eventually, I returned to New York, where I wrote a book about my journey--and their journeys. LIVE from Mongolia! is the true story of what can happen when you follow your wildest dream in life.

And now, all these years later, I continue to meet people pursuing some really oddball paths. And that's where this Dream Series blog comes in! Together, you and I will journey all over the world to meet people, people just like you, who are pursuing unusual dreams in life. Who knows, maybe one day it'll be your story we read!

Stay tuned next week as we journey from Cincinnati to Los Angeles, where we'll meet an engineer-turned-comedian!

My U.S television debut - a show about following your dreams!

2012-07-01T11:10:00.000-04:00

In March, I began working for SinoVision's Cosmo Times as a television host! My debut episode features a Chinese woman following her dream all the way from northeastern China to here in New York City where she would work for a while as a banker until one day she finally...(watch the video!)

2012-06-19T17:32:00.000-04:00

"Khailmag", a Mongolian sweet cheese with raisins

"Byaslag", a semi-firm Mongolian white cheese

How you helped a little Mongolian girl follow her dream...

You, yes you, have helped a little girl and her mother follow their dreams. And a thank you has come all the way from Mongolia.

You remember the story of Urangoo and her mother, Oyunbadam. Urangoo was just six years old when she decided she'd like to pursue a career in the circus, and so she convinced her parents that that's just what she'd do. Not long after, the family picked up and left their teepee home in the reindeer-herding region of northern Mongolia (a very cold, very harsh place to live), and moved to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia's capital. As many of you know, Urangoo's father went in search of work in order to purchase a circus costume for his determined little daughter. Sadly, in so doing, he was robbed and murdered, and the family was left destitute. Things didn't get much better from there, at least not yet, and you can read about the family's plight here.

But, one thing eventually led to another, and suddenly there was a fundraiser in New York aimed at helping this family out. And that's where you came in. From Singapore to Ulaanbaatar and Cincinnati, upstate New York and Washington D.C., even the Upper East Side and the Deep South - dozens of you donated your time and money to help this family continue to follow their dreams, despite the odds that have stacked up against them. In this post, you'll see photos of the event's organizers making cheese (myself, Charles Bibilos, and Byambakhuu Darinchuulun), followed by the event itself, and finally all that money getting delivered directly into the hands of Oyunbadam, the mother who lost her husband to a dream.

So what now for Oyunbadam and Urangoo? Oyunbadam happens to be the very last (as I understand it) teacher of the Tuva language of the reindeer-herding Tsaatan people, from which she comes up in northernmost Siberian Mongolia. Without their language teacher, this ancient culture is at risk of dying. It is Oyunbadam's dream to return to her people to teach Tuva, and I'll follow her progress as she tries to do so. For now though, the money she's received from us, via the Mongolian Mission to the United Nations and the Foreign Ministry in Ulaabaatar, has covered her medical bills ($810 was delivered back in March, and the great news is she's cancer-free!) and the $1587 of donations from the NYC fundraiser will help her cover some household expenses - and help her to pursue her dream, as well as her daughter's.

I'll keep you posted! For now though, know that you have changed a few lives.

Delivering the donations to the United Nations

Byambakhuu with our Mongolian grandmother "buuz" maker

Mr Ganbold, from the Mongolian Mission to the UN, writing a receipt for the donations

Oyunbadam, Urangoo's mother, accepting our donations from the Foreign Ministry

NYC Fundraiser for Mongolian Circus Girl!

2012-04-19T17:15:00.001-04:00

NYC FUNDRAISER FOR MONGOLIAN CIRCUS GIRL!

by Charles Bibilos. Accomplished glutton, traveler, and food blogger who has eaten meals from over 120 nations! Charles's dream is to eat authentic cuisine from every single nation in the world, without leaving New York City!

So, I hear that you want to try real Mongolian food. Homemade cheese curds, perhaps, or fermented mare's milk? Or caramelized clotted cream?

Yes? Well I do too. And here's your chance to join me, while helping us raise money for a young artist in Mongolia.

Here's the short version of the Mongolian artist's story: at age 6, a Mongolian girl named Urangoo - the daughter of reindeer herders in a remote region of Mongolian Siberia - decided that she wanted to become a circus contortionist, and she taught herself how to contort by watching a video over and over again. Eventually, her family dropped everything, literally rode their reindeer toward the capital city of Ulaanbaatar, and enrolled Urangoo in circus school. Now 13 years old, Urangoo has thrived as a performer, but her father was murdered trying to mine enough gold to pay for Urangoo's education. And, Urangoo's mother is ill, and struggling to support her children. For the full version of Urangoo and her mother's story, read here.

And here's where we need your help, hopefully in a fun sort of way! At 1:00 on Saturday, May 12, in partnership with Byambakhuu Darinchuluun and "LIVE from Mongolia!", we're hosting a food-friendly fundraiser at Jimmy's No. 43 in the East Village. Suggested donation is $35, and all proceeds will be sent to Urangoo's family to pay for her schooling as well as her family's expenses.

As part of the event, you'll enjoy...

Authentic Mongolian food samples! Nothing against corner-store "Mongolian BBQ", but it isn't actually Mongolian! Real Mongolian delicacies include steamed mutton tail, fermented mare's milk, and dried camel meat. We can't promise that any of those three items will be served, but we will offer samples of authentic Mongolian dumplings (buuz), homemade Mongolian cheese (byaslag), caramelized clotted cream (khailmag), and perhaps "dried mass of cheese" (eeghzi), or fresh Mongolian cookies. The khailmag and buuz are supposed to be particularly delicious. And whether you find the food delicious or just fascinating, all of it will be based on ancient Mongolian recipes!
Authentic Mongolian entertainment! Live performances by Mongolian artists, and a video appearance by Urangoo the contortionist!
Live auction! Featuring Mongolian artwork! A thoroughly entertaining auctioneer will be selling one-of-a-kind Mongolian calligraphy and Mongolian leather art, among other items.
Beer! OK so the beer isn't Mongolian, and it's a cash bar. Sorry, beer isn't included in the price of admission. But our friends at Jimmy's No. 43 serve some damned fine craft brews. And a legendary international culinary expert will provide craft beer pairings. Wanna find out which microbrew goes best with homemade Mongolian cheese curds? Here's your chance!
And maybe a few surprises... No promises but we're hoping to feature a cooking demonstration by a renowned Mongolian dumpling-maker and possibly a live performance from a Mongolian calligrapher. And you'll definitely have a chance to sign up for NYC's only Mongolian culture and language class, taught by Byambakhuu Darinchuluun, a charismatic Mongolian scholar.

So, here are the details:

Contorted Mongolia

Fundraiser for Urangoo the Contortionist

Jimmy's No. 43

43 East 7th St. (between 2nd & 3rd Ave.)

*suggested donation: $35 per person (beer not included)

Saturday, May 12

1:00pm

Advance reservations are strongly recommended. Capacity at Jimmy's is limited, and we'll be happy to see you if you spontaneously appear at the event, but we can 100% guarantee admission to the event if you RSVP early.

(We can also guarantee that we are not sketchy thieves who will steal your money and spend it on fermented mare's milk. All proceeds will be collected by the Mongolian consular officials, who have generously agreed to transfer all funds to Urangoo's family via diplomatic pouch...and our friends at the Permanent Mission of Mongolia to the United Nations have also generously agreed to make us look less sketchy.)

Contact Charles Bibilos (unitednationsoffood@gmail.com 202.489.2731) or Patricia Sexton (patricia.sexton@gmail.com) to make reservations, and we'll be sure to save some homemade Mongolian cheese curds for you!

Thanks for your support, and happy eating!

To read more from Charles Bibilos and his culinary masterpiece blog, click here.

2012-03-09T15:03:00.000-05:00

Still following her dream: from Mongolian Siberia to Washington, D.C.

The announcer's voice cracked as she introduced Urangoo. And for good reason. For those of you who aren't yet familiar with Urangoo, the Mongolian circus girl, hers is a story of dogged determination in pursuit of a dream, even in the face of poverty and a terribly tragic loss.

After Urangoo's parents chose to take a leap of faith and pursue their six-year-old daughter's dream to work in the circus as a contortionist, the father was robbed and murdered. He'd been panning for gold in the Mongolian mines, and had only wanted to collect enough gold to pay for Urangoo's circus costume. (For more on Urangoo's story, click here.)

Urangoo, sitting on her father's lap, Bat-Erdene

It was this story that the announcer alluded to on Friday night March 2 at The Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., where Urangoo was about to perform. She'd been flown to America by Ed Nef of Santis Productions, who has produced a film on the mining sector in Mongolia. Described as a "rising star" in the competitive world of Mongolian circus contortion, Urangoo definitely would not disappoint her standing-room-only crowd.

Approaching the stage, she affixed two miniature crutches to a platform. Turning upside down, Urangoo then balanced her entire body weight on the wobbling crutches. And, for good measure, she wrapped her toes around her face to touch her nose. But that wasn't all. Dismounting, she removed the two crutches, and replaced them with what looked like a giant Q-tip. On top of the giant Q-tip, which Urangoo put into her mouth, she balanced, inverted, and contorted backwards. Confused? Me too. Watch the video above!

But back in Ulaanbaatar, the Mongolian capital, Urangoo's mother is sick. And that's why I'm writing again today. As many of you know by now, Oyunbadam may have a brain tumor, but could not afford an MRI, or any specialty treatment. In the past month, several of you have made generous donations to Oyunbadam's family. For that, they thank you - deeply. With $810 on its way to Mongolia from donors from Singapore to Cincinnati and New York, Oyunbadam will be able to afford an MRI.

Better still, a few of us who have been following Urangoo and her mother's story are trying to put together a fundraiser in NYC for the family. I'll keep you posted! If you're out of town, and still want to help, share this story. As KONY 2012 has proven, "Nothing is more powerful than an idea," and change is just one person - you - away.

Urangoo, now 13, says "bayarlaa", or 'thank you!' on Friday Mar 2 at The Kennedy Center

2012-02-10T16:47:00.000-05:00

Update on the Mongolian circus girl:

I have some wonderful news, and some bad news. First, the good news!

Urangoo, the little Mongolian girl who wants to be a circus act, is getting an amazing shot at her dream. She is coming to the US to perform, I kid you not, contortion, in Washington D.C., and Arlington, Virginia. Santis Productions has funded her visit, and will be screening the documentary they produced about the Mongolian mining industry, the very industry that unwittingly played a part in the death of Urangoo's father. Urangoo will be performing at the screening: 2/29 at the Arlington Artisphere, and 3/2 at the Kennedy Center.

So, that's the good news. Now the bad news.

Urangoo's mother is sick. Oyunbadam has been in and out of the hospital, and doesn't have enough money to pay doctors to diagnose what, unfortunately, may be a brain tumor.

Many of you have asked how you can help. For that, a giant thank you. Now you can. Santis Productions, the filmmaker, will be receiving donations on behalf of Urangoo and her mother. No, Santis is not a charity, so you're not going to get a tax break. Like you, Santis is taking a risk and doing the family a favor. If that prevents you from donating, I understand, but I'm sorry to hear it anyway. However, if you're willing to risk $10 or even $50, you can send cash or a check to:

Santis Productions LLC
124 Madison Place
Alexandria, VA 22314
(Be sure to write "For Oyunbadam" in the memo on the check)

You know, I also wanted to get some certainty about what Urangoo and her mother needed in order to get by, so I asked them to provide me with a budget. Along with line items for food, clothing, and fuel for a cold winter, there were two costs that they were very concerned about: an MRI, and pencils.

Wrap your head around that, readers. The family is in dire need of an MRI. And pencils, for school. Can we dig into our pockets, and offer this girl and her mom the chance I know most of us have ourselves?

2012-01-11T14:35:00.000-05:00

Following a dream: from Mongolian Siberia to the Mongolian Circus

Urangoo, center right, contorting on top of a reindeer

Urangoo was just six years old when she decided what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. One day at school, in a remote village in northern Mongolia, she watched a video of circus acts, and "just wanted to be exactly like them." The performers were contorting, twisting their bodies into completely unnatural states of pretzel. Right then and there, Urangoo knew: she too would be a contortionist. Not 'one day', but that very minute.

I probably don't need to tell you that the average human being has an approximately zero percent chance of succeeding in the field of contortion, but I may need to explain to you why young Urangoo had the already-stacked odds stacked against her.

Urangoo is from East Taiga, a frigid and harsh region of northernmost Mongolia, near the Russian Siberian border. She grew up in a teepee made of reindeer skins. Her parents herded reindeer, rising every morning well before dawn to milk the deer, and then doing so again and again every two hours. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner consisted of hunted meat, reindeer meat, boiled reindeer milk curds, and maybe some potatoes come autumn. Water came from melted snow. Everything about this lifestyle is austere. It's not the sort of place where dreams are entertained.

But little Urangoo is nothing if not determined.

Urangoo and family in the Taiga

So, for hours and hours on end, by carefully watching the circus video that had inspired her, she taught herself to contort. To get an idea just how difficult this is, try balancing on nothing but your chin while wrapping the rest of your body into a C.

Well, after just a week of this, Urangoo was ready to present her new skill to her parents. Who were frightened of what they saw. Wouldn't their daughter would hurt herself? Shouldn't this sort of livelihood be left to the professionals? But Urangoo pressed on for her parents' approval, learning more complicated contortion tricks until, finally, she was granted their blessing. "I saw in my daughter real ability and talent," her mother Oyunbadam, then 32, said.

So, the family did what nobody does in their difficult situation. They packed up the kids and moved to Ulaanbaatar, the capital city of Mongolia. This was no small task. Not only did Oyunbadam and her husband have almost no money, but they didn't have any transportation either. But never mind. Gathering their belongings, they hopped on a reindeer and rode it to the nearest town, eventually making it four days later to the big city.

Once they did, they found themselves in a predicament. Not only is Ulaanbaatar expensive, but it is very, very cold, and this nomadic reindeer-herding family from the remote countryside could only afford to live in a traditional ger (or yurt). Gers don't have running water, and few have electricity. On top of that, Urangoo's parents could not find work. Back home in the Taiga countryside, Urangoo's mother had been the region's very last teacher of Tuva, the language of the Reindeer People. Tuva is a unique and dying language, which bears no resemblance whatsoever to the Mongolian language. For example, Oyunbadam proudly told me, "Sain bain uu" is 'hello' in Mongolian, while it is "Eghi" in Tuva. In other words, she'd given up her own dream in order to make her daughter's dream come true. And as for Urangoo's father, he was about to pay the ultimate price to help Urangoo; he would pay with his own life.

But, for a little while anyway, things were looking up. By 2007, Urangoo had been entered into circus school in Ulaanbaatar, where she was learning how to contort, trapeze, and acrobat. And by January 2008, she was competing in her first national contortion championship. One night that month, while temperatures dipped into the minus 30s, Urangoo performed inside while her parents waited outside for her, shivering. According to Oyunbadam, she and her husband were not permitted to attend Urangoo's competition because they looked too poor. But that didn't stop Urangoo's father from beaming tearfully with pride for his daughter. "She's performing in a big, glass building. I can hardly believe it," Oyunbadam recalls her husband saying that night. And that night, Urangoo won her first national gold medal.

Video of Urangoo contorting, with her mother watching on

Still though, Urangoo's father needed work. His daughter required a contortion costume that they simply could not afford on Oyunbadam's meager salary, even though she'd finally found a steady job. So, he made a difficult decision to work illegally in the mines. Illegal mining is common in Mongolia, and has become much more common in recent years with the arrival of mining companies and the wealth they promise. Because Urangoo's father wanted to make just a little bit of money, enough, say, to buy a contortion costume for his daughter, he snuck into the mines to pan just enough gold to pay the bills. Once he'd done so, he left the mines with his booty in hand. No sooner than he did, he was robbed and murdered.

When word of her husband's death reached her, Oyunbadam lost hope. Without him, and with three children to feed, she wanted to go home to the Taiga, to her people. "I was lost," she said. "I didn't know how to live anymore, so I gave up." But her new colleagues and boss urged her on, and she eventually decided to stay with her children in the capital so that Urangoo could continue to contort.

And this is where their story both ends and begins. Urangoo is 13 years old now, and her mother is 39. They still live in a ger in Ulaanbaatar. Oyunbadam has two other children, and a disabled niece whom she cares for. With five mouths to feed, money is very, very tight in their one-room home. Urangoo is now with the Mongolian National Circus, and she dreams of performing internationally. And Oyunbadam dreams of one day returning to the Taiga to teach the language that she so loves, the Tuva. The death of their husband and father is a burden to both of them, but also a reminder that they must carry on.

Incredibly, Urangoo may be coming to the US to perform contortion! On Feb 28th and Mar 2nd, she's hoping to be at the Arlington Artisphere and the Kennedy Center as part of a film screening and a performance of Mongolian talent. In fact, the film is what's made all this possible. Santis Productions' coming "Mongolia: Mining Challenges a Civilization" is what brought together those of us interested in helping Urangoo. In the film, Executive Producer Ed Nef goes to Mongolia to seek greater understanding of the impact of the mining boom on Mongolia, as well as the dangers of gold-panning, which is how Urangoo's father died.

Want to help Urangoo? Share this story. Right now, she needs all the publicity she can get.

Are you following an unusual dream? Tell me about it!

2011-12-07T18:00:00.049-05:00

Following a dream - from Siberia to the Mongolian capital

I'd like to introduce you to minus-35 degree weather. Yes, minus 35 degrees Fahrenheit. Here in the Mongolian north, up near the Siberian border, a festival takes place, during the dead of one of the world's coldest winters. But I'm not here to tell you about the weather, or even about festivals. I'm here to tell you the story of a most unusual dream, concocted by a very determined little girl and her equally determined parents.

But before I do, I'd like to show you how the Mongolians celebrate winter. Correction: it's actually how the Mongolians celebrate spring! The annual Khatgal Ice Festival, held on top of Central Asia's deepest and mostly frozen lake, is actually a party celebrating the coming of warmer weather. At minus 35, it certainly couldn't get much colder, could it?

So, sit back, relax in the warmth of your plus-35 degree winter, and watch me as I race with nomads on jingle bell sleds on top of the iced Lake Khovsgol! And stay tuned for a story that you won't want to miss about a little girl from this Siberian region of Mongolia, her family's herd of reindeer, and the circus!

2011-10-26T14:36:00.000-04:00

Following a dream - from Azerbaijan to New York

A crowd of onlookers had gathered around Mischa, and they were gasping. For a street artist, this is, of course, a really good thing. More patrons, more sales. More gasping patrons, many more sales.

Four years earlier, Mischa had moved from Azerbaijan to New York by way of Moscow. He had a scholarship to study here, but it wasn't just education he was seeking. Mischa already had a Master's degree. He'd even been a well-regarded graffiti artist.

At first, Mischa wanted to learn English. His scholarship paid for school, but when it ended, he needed to find another way to make ends meet. Graffiti doesn't exactly pay the bills, so Mischa considered other ways to create art. One thing led to another, and he discovered an unusual painting technique on Youtube. So, he taught himself the method, and began working the streets.

Donning a gas mask, Mischa uses an assortment of spray paint, blades, old newspaper, and heavy metal discs to carve skylines into canvas. Deft curves for the Brooklyn bridge, sharp edges for skyscrapers, and a speckled night sky. And if that hadn't been enough to wow those of us gathered around him, Mischa completed each painting in just ten minutes and charged only ten dollars for a freshly minted piece. All this while he took requests from customers, and questions from me.

"Do you love it?" I asked him, expecting an obvious answer.

"No," he said. "This is not my dream."

"Then what is?" I said, dumbfounded by this surprisingly unhappy marriage of talent and passion.

"I love to paint," Mischa said. "I love it. I love doing this. But not on the streets. I want to paint somewhere, art, for someone."

Watch the video above to see Mischa paint the Manhattan skyline. A customer in the crowd had asked him to include the twin towers, and he did just that. For now, before Mischa makes the leap from street artist to artist's loft, find him on 48th and 7th Avenue in Times Square, where he works daily.

2011-10-17T13:45:00.004-04:00

Following a dream - from Detroit to Mexico

"Get your fresh donuts here! Pineapple, strawberry, and caramel! Better than Krispy Kreme!"

Until he claimed his donuts were better than Krispy Kreme's, I'd been ignoring him. After all, I was reclining on the secluded Mexican beach town of Sayulita, a half hour or so from Puerto Vallarta. Sayulita is famous for its waves and its assortment of fresh fruit juice drinks, certainly not its donuts. Not quite anyway.

"Best donuts in the world!" the donut seller called out, and I was curious enough to be sold.

"Why are you here?" I asked Santiago the Donut Seller, as he offered me a homemade pastry filled with Mexican caramel and dusted with cane sugar. He had an American accent. Specifically, he had a Midwestern accent, and I was intrigued. Why on earth was a young Midwestern man selling cheap beach donuts in an off-the-beaten path Mexican surf town?

Three years ago, at 23, Santiago moved from Detroit to Mexico City. "I looked around me in Detroit," he explained. "And I realized that all my friends were dead." So, he decided to move to Mexico. At first, he worked in construction in the capital. But things weren't going well, and one day someone suggested to him to try out the small town of Sayulita. He packed up, and headed for surfer's paradise, met a woman, got married, and cooked up their own plan to make ends meet, trying to figure out how they could both work together to fulfill their dreams. One brainstorm led to another, and finally they decided on...donuts.

Skeptically, I sampled his wares. My skepticism didn't last for long. The caramel donut was hot to the touch, fresh from his missus' oven, and the cateja, the Mexican caramel, was buttery and rich. Santiago was right. His donuts were better than Krispy Kreme's, and I pointed this out right away to him.

"Look around you!" he cried gleefully as I munched. "This," he said, pointing incredulously at the beach around us, as if he were seeing it all for the first time, every single day."This is my office!"

Maybe the best part about Santiago's story is that he is so completely in love with his new life that he doesn't even bother to reconnect to the rest of the world. I'd offered to tweet about him, and he shook his head, "I'm not on Twitter." What about email, I asked. "Nope," he said. "But I really gotta get me one of those accounts one day." So, if you or someone you love likes a good donut as much as I do, you'll have to travel to a secluded Mexican surfing town to get it. Look for the donut seller, and listen for his big, bold claim that his donuts are the world's best. He isn't wrong.

2011-10-06T10:37:00.002-04:00

Do the Bankers Secretly Agree with the Protesters?

"They have a point." the banker said to me, under his breath, when I asked him what he thought of the protests.

Yesterday, I went back to Wall Street. I wanted to see what the Occupy Wall Street movement was all about. Does it have any teeth, any cohesion? Do the masses have a message? So far, what I'd gleaned from every media report I'd read and watched was that the protesters were dogged in their determination, but that they didn't seem to have a clue what it was they were determined about. So, I set out to see for myself.

I worked as a Wall Street banker for about ten years. I loved it, I hated it, but mostly I took my paychecks and ignored for a long time what I really wanted to do with my life. And so I can tell you one thing about this Occupy Wall Street movement - the government would be doing Wall Street bankers a massive favor by enacting regulation.

Yes, I said regulation would be a favor to the bankers. In fact, I said 'massive favor'. Why? Because in all my years on Wall Street and off Wall Street, I have not met one single banker, not one, who did not harbor a dream to do something else with his or her life. Sure, they get a kick out of what they do. How could they not? They're getting paid a lot of money to play mental sport in an adrenaline-induced environment. Every single day is a challenge; every single day is a battle to be 'winning', to outsmart the opponent.

But that's just the point - these minds, these Wall Street minds, they are brilliant. Just look at the creation of complex derivatives and options pricing models, the debut of black box strategies and macro hedge funds. Every day, all day, bankers are putting to use the very best of this country's mental gunpowder to increase alpha. Which is to say, some of the very best intellect is being wasted on devising ways to make more money.

There's the salesman who wants to work in non-profit, the analyst who wants to teach, the trader who has an uncanny gift for golf, the middle office manager who wants to study fashion design, the director who wants to open his own restaurant, the global sales manager with a stunningly beautiful operatic voice and a gift for dissecting Japanese politics. And what are they doing? They're working in Wall Street banks, making money. Simply having a dream doesn't mean actually living it.

But what is it that the protesters and the government have to do with all this?

Well, Wall Street is actually on their side. Only secretly, and certainly not entirely. The demands to "Eat bankers", "Forgive all debt", and "Sack Goldman" are not constructive, and are rightly viewed with dismissive scorn. But what about calls for accountability, for performance-based pay packages, and for an end to tax loopholes that hedge fund managers agree are excessive even as they take advantage of them? Tap into that, protesters, and you're onto something. You're onto something that your opponent wants too.

A few years ago, I made the difficult decision to leave Wall Street. I didn't do so without doubting myself. But I had a dream, and I wanted to follow it to Mongolia. So that's what I did. But I'd be lying to you if I told you I never looked back. Of course I looked back. After all, it was a pile of money I was leaving behind. And that is precisely the point.

2011-09-26T12:00:00.000-04:00

Bourdain & Bordeaux

What do you get when you mix suckling pig, Indonesia, and Anthony Bourdain? Answer: a crowd. Which is why I declined to mix all three (missing out on the highly recommended Ibu Oka’s Babi Guling), and instead focusing on the Indonesian pig part. The thing about Bourdain is that he is never wrong about his food, and I wanted the chance to be wrong about my food. As you know by now, I love my pork. And I’d like to not love my pork, for the same reasons that everyone would like to love it less. Especially when it comes with skin, crackling, and melt-in-your mouth fat and garlic hot sauce.

"Babi Guling" Balinese Pork

My friends and I hired Pade, a local guide, to take us to Bali’s finest “Babi Guling”, and he didn’t waste more than two hours in doing just that. In those two hours, Bali’s finest “Babi Guling” roast suckling pig sold out. But, as luck would have it, we were waylaid for a good reason: we’d gotten the very unusual chance to see a religious ceremony that takes place only once every thirty years. But back to the pork.

Through several backstreets, down two alleyways, and behind a clothing shop, we found the sold-out locals-only ‘warung’, which is Indonesian for ‘small restaurant’. In the background, as always in Bali, the tinkling of wooden xylophones; in the foreground, wizened and leathery old men ambling along the backstreets, hands clasped behind their backs in meditative prayer. It was, of course, the type of backdrop that promises a good meal.

The smell of garbage was overwhelming, and I whispered a silent prayer of thanks when Pade informed us apologetically that this locals-only pork seller was sold out. Off we went to a different Babi Guling restaurant, one that had plenty left to go around: the front half of a pig was sitting enclosed in a plexi-glass-plated window, and a waitress periodically reached in to remove generous fistfuls of his back, which ended up on my plate and Pade’s, along with a hot sauce made of coconut, garlic, and onions, an upside-down saucer of rice, two bowls of offal soup, and a helping of local sauteed vegetables. That and three ginger beers set us back just $9. The only thing missing was a bottle of Bordeaux.

But was the pork better than Anthony Bourdain’s recommended warung? I wouldn’t know – his Babi Guling restaurant had also sold out before we could get there. One thing I can tell you is that you wouldn't be wasting your time if you made a special trip to Bali to do nothing more than eat.

2011-08-11T14:48:00.002-04:00

"If the only way you can follow your dream to paint is to paint your trashcan and put it on display outside your house, then paint your trashcan and put it on display," Gary Russo said after he finished belting out a dream of his own. A construction worker assigned to the 2nd Avenue subway project in New York City, Gary went to school for acting, but left "to get a real job."

Decades later, in his fifties, he's finally getting a chance to follow that old dream to be onstage. And better still, this time the world is watching. Nearly a million people have viewed the original Youtube video posted last week by blogger "fish31171". Today, camera crews from Germany and Tokyo have come to hear Gary croon Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin.

But that's not why Gary sings. Gary sings for New York and New Yorkers. "I'm here for you," he says after finishing 'Mack the Knife', tears welling in his eyes. "I'm here for this. For this city. I'm local. Thank you, all of you." And then, because we're all getting emotional over this humble, talented man and what he's all about, Gary quickly jokes, "You know, I'm the Justin Bieber of fifty-year-olds."

And then he surprised all of us. Asked by veteran news reporter Magee Hickey, who'd accompanied me to hear Gary sing, if Gary had an agent, he explained that he's "not here for that. I have a construction job to do, and I'm doing it. I just love to give back to New York."

Press play on the video above - and make sure you listen to Gary's advice for all of us - advice that he took, long ago, from his own father. Gary will leave you wondering - what is it you can do to follow your own dream?

2011-04-16T13:00:00.002-04:00

"Bak Kut Teh": Photos of Singapore's Cinnamon Pork Tea

Considering how good that meal in Singapore was, I've posted a few more photos. From the top, a top-down view of the best that Heng Heng has to offer. Followed by a close-up of the pork "tea". Remember that's the pork dish that's made with cloves, garlic, cinnamon, and a herbal treatment for gynecological ailments (yes, you did read that right). The third snapshot is the hot sauce. Let me tell you - it was hot. Fiery red chilies in a sticky sweet soy. Finally, the last photo is of the boss, stirring the pot of the rich cinnamon-pork sauce.

Stay tuned for a little bit more of my adventure in Bali, where I'll be posting a video of THEIR famous pork dish!

___"LIVE from Mongolia!"___