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The AsiaObscura Book – in stores now!

That’s right! From the producer of Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead, the director of Poultry in Motion: Truth is Stranger than Chicken, and the writer of The Stormglass Protocol for the iPad comes the blog compilation of the decade!


Featuring unseen photos, original stories, deranged dishes, new adventures and all your favorite AsiaObscura moments, as seen in BoingBoing, io9, The Huffington Post, Ain’t It Cool News, The Phnom Penh Insider, China Daily and The Daily Mail. Including:

A Ton of Hand Drawn Indian Movie Posters…


Adventures from a Rural Chinese Taxidermy School…


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Sifting Through Arthur C. Clarke’s DVD Collection in Colombo

Yes, when this story gets to where it’s going, I end up in Arthur C. Clarke’s armchair. I promise.


I started this morning with a strong cup of coffee, an egg hopper doused in fish curry, and the sci-fi classic Childhood’s End. And then a thought occurred to me: Didn’t Arthur C. Clarke live here once?

We’re in Sri Lanka’s capital, Colombo, and it’s the last day of our trip. It’s our last week in Asia. It’s actually, in a way, the end of AsiaObscura. We move back to America on Saturday.

So I did some quick searches, and not only did he live in Sri Lanka, but he lived just a few blocks away.

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Toilet Cum Bath

All my morning rituals, in one handy place.


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Stepping on Human Skulls in Bangalore’s Black Magic Graveyard

As I stepped over the leg bone, I laughed. I’m no bone doctor, but it looked human to me. Orthopaedist, is that what it’s called? I’m no orthopaedist.

Must be from a cow, or maybe a dog. Do dogs get that big? Not a human. Definitely not a human.

But then I tripped, and I stepped on a skullcap, that really nailed it for me.

This Bangalore graveyard was covered in human bones.

“Maybe the dogs dig them up,” suggested Kaveri, as she led the way to the high priestess of the graveyard. “Or the rats.”

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India’s Charlie Chaplin-branded Potato Chips

Okay, they’re not really potato chips. They’re about as far from that as you get — offerings like papad chivda, soya chips, sev puri, and mari banana wafers. They’re tasty.

And the bags are all stamped with Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp.


I loved them so much I bought every kind the supermarket sold.

I think this might be my new favorite Indian snack.

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Cooking With Poo

Michelle picked this wonderful cookbook up off a shelf at Siam Paragon’s Kinokuniya.


I’m sure Poo is just her nickname. But what a great nickname it is.

Oooh, it’s on Amazon…

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Terribly Cute Beijing Marriage License Photos

I know this is mildly goofy, but many of Beijing’s photo labs will still produce classic Marriage License photos. And they’re just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.


The Polaroid framing, the flowery carved edges, it’s all too cool. And the pose was rigorously enforced — we were molded into those positions over a period of five minutes.

If we got married in Beijing, this would definitely be the picture we’d use. From the large China Photo Studio at 8 Jiaodaokou East, Beijing, China. (And kudos to Tony and Charlene for suggesting it!)

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Anus Dairy

The dairy that keeps on giving.


(“Party orders,” too!)

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The Ten Great Buildings of China, and Their Gruesome Pasts

In 1959, Mao was one hell of a proud man. As the new Emperor of China, he’d led an unbelievable boom in food production, completely eliminated the need for medicine and science, and “enticed the snakes out of their caves” with a hundred flowers — all in just ten years!

So he decided to erect ten great buildings to honor his grand achievements. They would represent the people, the peasants, the army, the minorities — each building had a great semantic purpose. He would name them The Ten Great Buildings!

And for 18 months I’d been talking with the Professor about hosting a 十大建筑 bike tour. 40km of self-guided Beijing history in 4 hours. (I put up a map here.) This was going to be historic.

10:10am – The First Great Building: Mao’s Wife with a Knife

The Diaoyutai State Guesthouse

Symbolizing the foreign friends of New China, this 800-year-old imperial vacation home was a perfect choice for the Great 10. Emperor Zhangzong loved fishing here, and Ant-Eating Emperor QianLong left his tag on one of the buildings. Instead of opening it to the public, Mao thought this would make a perfect home for visiting dignitaries.

54 years later, we still weren’t allowed in. We were barely allowed to snatch a single photo of the entrance before armed guards corralled us.

“No photos,” one said.

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Photographing India, Then and Now

In London, I found the old box of slides. It was hidden in the back of my parents’ closet. I had to move fifteen other boxes to get to it. It hadn’t been touched in decades. I bought a slide scanner immediately, and went to work.

Going through the treasures inside, I keep gagging at the photos that I’m retaking 30 years later.

Some are awfully obvious, like these crackers of the Taj Mahal…

and Humayun’s Tomb…

But these are the de rigeur shots. Of course Dad shot them in 1983, and of course I re-shot them 30 years later. But then I keep finding less traditional shots, like this so-specific angle of one stretch of Mahabalipuram in Tamil Nadu…

Mahabalipuram? I can’t remember being there, let alone that very specific 15-degree angle. Or how about this off-centered angle shot of

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Little Girl on a Unicycle on a Tightrope, Jaipur 1986

I’ve been scanning our forgotten pictures from our 1980s holidays, and found this incredible picture from our visit to Jaipur in 1986: a girl on a unicycle on a tightrope. So does this still happen here in India?


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A Museum of Nightmares in the Shadow of the Eiffel Tower

I don’t think about hair. I mean, sure I’m losing mine. And sure, the musical is one of the greatest things of all time.

But really… is hirsituity that big a deal? Big enough for the Musée de Quai Branly to brazenly devote an entire exhibit to it? Lord no! And Lord YES!

(Adapting my professorial voice here, and pushing my glasses up my nose ever so slightly.)

You see, hair is a symbol of sensuality, sexuality, virility. And that’s clearly why this exhibit features a score — yes, A SCORE — of shrunken heads.

Shrunken HEADS? Do they really fit among the Elizabethan ebony busts of African hairdos, and photos of French starlets from the 60s? I mean, I guess they did have hair to kill for… almost Bon Jovian sometimes…

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The Ossuaries of Paris…

This was like the trip to Disneyworld I’ve never taken. My golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s factory. Our trip to North Korea.

I know you’ve already been. Many times. But walking these two kilometers, I realized why this was one of my mom’s favorite places in Paris. Two kilometers of stacked-up bones, all to us. Entirely alone. So damned romantic.

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M. Deyrolle’s Lovely Collection of Taxidermy

At 200 euros for a simple mounted mouse, Paris’ 1831 taxidermy haven is overpriced. It’s also bloated with “no photos allowed” signs, and entirely short of anthropomorphic artistry, But it was also glorious.

Oh yes, it was in fact Michelle’s dream to go…

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My Gout, and Jules Baretta’s Wax Museum of Incredible Diseases

The Bangalore doctor frowned at the printouts of my blood tests.

“Do you eat innards? You know, like brains, liver, kidneys?”

Well, dear reader, if you know me, you know the answer is yes.

“And red meat?” I nodded. “And herring and mackerel?” Oh yes! “Well, you must stop. Your urea levels are dangerously high. You are at risk of gout.”

I didn’t tell him about the trip to Paris. And here I am, doing my best to bring this gout on.

Foie gras, smoked salmon, and plates and plates of steak tartare. Fromage–chèvre, bleu, roquefort, some spicy little thing–and islands of egg white floating in a sweet cream sauce. My gout isn’t near. It’s probably already got me.

And that’s one of the reasons we stopped at Paris’ Musée de Moulages de l’Hôpital Saint-Louis, or–as it should have been called–Jules Baretta’s Wax Museum of Sweetly Incredible Diseases for the Edification of Les Students.


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Goodbye Telegram / Hello Telegram

If you’d asked me, I’d have confidently told you the telegram service was long gone, relegated to dusty 1930s spy thrillers, retro New York hipster bars, and awesome games I’m building.

I would have been so completely wrong.


It turns out India actually still uses telegrams. Barely. The service is closing in days!

When I read this, I sent Woo an urgent SMS. “We’ve got to send a telegram. Pronto.” I looked at the note, and added one word to the end: “Stop.” And I knew, this was going to be awesome.

The local post office didn’t think it was as awesome as we did. “No, we don’t send telegrams,” the guy behind the counter said. “That stopped weeks ago.”


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Deranged Clown Cream Biscuits

These Milk Bikis Milk Cream Biscuits might just be the creepiest teatime snack I’ve ever seen.


Like the John Wayne Gacy of high tea.


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This Hindu God has 1,000 Vaginas!

So I’m in the middle of R.K. Narayan’s condensed version of the Ramayana — one of the great Indian epics — and I have to re-print the amazing story of Ahalya, Gautama and Indra. It’s too amazing.

Now Ahalya was gorgeous. Like, insanely gorgeous.


Brahma had created her from the ingredients of beauty, itself. Of course this led to problems.

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Dr Shankar’s Wonderful Collection of Brains and Other Medical Obscura

It came up over a bowl of brain stew at Karim’s, Old Delhi’s famously-dingy 1913 eatery.

“Tasty,” I said, wiping my mouth. “By the way, did I tell you about the brain museum in Bangalore? The architect told me we should go.”

Michelle tore off a piece of naan, and sopped up a wet chunk of brain. “We have to go,” she said.

And this weekend, we did.

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Another Diana Pose at the Taj Mahal

From Beijing’s miniature Taj Mahal, of course…


Oh, what an unforgettable day that was…

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