To far away worlds

Welcomed to the Bay with outstretched arms

2008-06-07T01:59:00.004+01:00

Time to leave the Big Apple and move on, one step closer to home. I miss the city, the metro, my friends there, both new and old. I miss its large, juicy, delicious burgers/pizza/tacos, the loud (and very funny) black people, the funky smells and sights of Chinatown, and the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. I miss Abe, one of the most relaxed (and hence, relaxing) people I know, who lives the perfect lifestyle, a beautiful balance between a job that he absolutely loves and the free time to enjoy the money he earns in the laid back, artsy borough of Brooklyn. I miss Kat, her boundless enthusiasm and positive thinking, her geekiness about photography, the cute way she mock cries for unfortunate happenings, and the strange way that we're able to talk about family, dreams, and other personal things so easily.

I miss New York.

Onward and forward now, taking a flight that lasts much longer than I'd think (I always thought east to west coast flights were like 3-4 hours!) and landing in the city with my favorite weather year-round --- San Francisco --- and one of my favorite friends, Jon. After lugging my gigantic, overweight pack onto the BART, crossing to the East Bay and then depositing it into Jon's car, I'm immediately assaulted by the most foul, disgusting, horrifying news to reach my ears in about a year.

Jon starts telling me he's playing World of Warcraft again.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

He starts telling me about daily quests that were added to help people make more gold, popping in for some quick 5-10 man instances once in a while, and leveling Cowcowmoo (Leslie's character) from 60-64 over the weekend. He doesn't stop telling me, despite my repeated outbursts of revulsion and outrage, about how fast and furiously fun his weekend was. Talk of WoW floods the car, Jon's mouth, a wide-open spigot, spewing a torrent of things I didn't want to hear.

Yeah right.

Not moments after I throw my stuff into his apartment, say hi to Bruce and sit down on the couch, Jon plops himself down on the big seat next to the couch and fires up his WoW ready laptop.

Moments after that, I break down and ask him where his discs are... *sigh*

San Francisco flew past like an easy breeze, lazily whisking itself around a few interesting things, but on the whole just passing time by. Not as whiz-bang as New York, but fun in its own, relaxing way.

Let's run down a few things done:

Rock Band with Jon, Leslie, Thom, and sometimes all 4 of us at once! I found out I love to sing! If only I knew more of these songs.

WoW with Jon, both of us leveling from 64-70.

A conversation we had in the car about WoW:
Jon: "A year is a decent break from the game."
Me: "WTF, that's just cuz you're PLAYING it now!"

Buying too much alcohol at BevMo. Jon calls me a "dumb son of a bitch" (really loudly, I might ad) because I didn't understand the importance of a good glass, and we proceed to bust up for days.

Heading to work with Jon one day, and then checking out this awesome place called Trappiste which serves over a hundred kinds of Belgium and trappiste beers later that afternoon. Cheese and cracker plate compliments all that delicious beer.

Going with Jon to a board game night at one of the specialty game stores in the area. I played a game that had to do with selling pieces of art, a game in the middle that had to do with amassing resources and building a cathedral, and Age of Empires III, the board game, which rewarded discovery and conquest of new lands as well as acquiring goods and men. Board games are such a strange beast. I end up playing however I feel at the moment and sometimes I just pick the really wrong strategy (AoE III, whoops!) and get hammered by all the other players, even though I'm like, in the last place. Cruelty, I say!!!

Talking to Jon about going out to eat in the city with Leslie and watching his world crumble around him. Jon really doesn't like the city for some reason, and will make it known TO EVERYONE how much he doesn't like the city and how much it's ruining his day thinking about how we might just go there to have dinner and a great time.

We went and had a great time anyway and Jon totally forgot about how bad the city is to him.

Lots and lots of Rock Band! Even once with Thom, Jon, Leslie and I, all rocking different instruments. What a freaking awesome game. Drums 4 lyfe!

Spending a great day going out to do some wine tasting at a cellar in Alameda and then heading out to walk the trail on land that used to be a landfill. And then seeing this:

It turns out local artists have come to this place creating all sorts of art out of the garbage out there. They even made some people and a dragon:

What a neat place to go walking around in!

Jon taking me to some amazing places to eat---a tiny tiny sandwich and soup shop where I had a delicious fresh sandwich with avocado, and Jon going for the scallop sandwich. Then, to Brazil Café, basically a stand in a parking lot with a crazy friendly Brazilian guy (possibly) handing out free mango shake tasters and putting together the best tri-tip sandwiches I've ever had the pleasure of wolfing down in front of all those hungry dogs at the landfill trail. Deeeelicious.

It's always a blast heading up to Nor Cal, soaking in the beautifully cool weather and hanging out with Jon and Leslie. Good times, good times!

That is some delicious apple

2008-05-30T08:06:00.000+01:00

I forgot to mention that the day we searched out Jennifer Cafe and found the juiciest carnitas tacos in lower Manhattan, Abe's friend was part of or supposedly doing sound for a show that night in one of the nearby theatres called Offensive Women. It was basically 4 women doing some great comedy routines, some of them well acted and one very awkwardly raunchy (or just plain disgusting) caricature of a... redneck. A very rough one.

My continuing journey through the Big Apple would not have been what it was without Kim, Vi's older sister and good friend of my cousin Joanne. Having worked for the TV studios out here in New York, she made the perfect guide to her cousin My Linh and I, picking out some of the best places to eat and taking us to various famous stops around the city. Some notably delicious places are Roxy's Delicatessen, serving amazingly smooth and creamy cheesecakes (try the pumpkin one!) and Alice's Tea Cup, which does an amazing afternoon tea consisting of delectable sandwiches, your choice of fluffy scone (again, try the pumpkin!) and a comforting hot pot of any one of their flavorful teas, the choices numbering well over 100.

Walking from one stop to the next, Kim and My Linh talk about seeing a Broadway show. I mention to them that Avenue Q was a really good one, having seen it in London, and they agree to check it out. Arriving at the Avenue Q doors, we find that it is, for some reason, closed for the night. What other options are there? How about the one called In The Heights, nominated for a Tony Best Musical? On the way, I learn from Kim that they are going to try getting rush tickets (a lottery done 2 hours before the show, usually raffling off the unsold tickets), and I hurredly mention that we'll have to depend on their luck because mine is usually not good enough for these things. Passing the 50% off Broadway ticket booth, we note that if we didn't succeed with rush, we can always come back and grab some tickets for half off the price. We get to the Richard Rodgers Theatre for In The Heights and put our name in the raffle bucket, waiting for the guy to step out and start the raffle.

22 tickets available. Max tickets per picked person is 2. The guy stands up high, and rolls his hand around the bucket, looking for lucky son of a bitch #1.

Bucket guy: "And the first one is... Christopher Lim."

Kim: "Dude, Chris, he said your name."

Me: "What?"

Bucket guy: "Hey, is there a Christopher Lim here? Anybody??"

Me: "Oh. OH! Oh shit! HEY OVER HERE!"

And that was pretty much how I won two rush tickets to In The Heights. They cost $26.50 each, and it turns out the rush/unsold tickets are usually the front row Orchestra ones. So two tickets to FRONT ROW Broadway.

Holy fucking awesome, Batman.

I suggested to Kim that since I've already seen a show in London, they could take the tickets and I'd just find something to eat and head back. Kim mentioned that she had some errands to do, and to just see the show and watch after her cousin. Alright, sounds good to me, let's check this out!

A great, great cast, brilliant singers and excellent dance routines that fill the stage with life. Lin-Manuel Miranda as Usnavi is brilliant, spitting out words in a rap and flowing it into a song moments later. The cast's singing is sublime, Carla's especially, hitting all the notes beautifully, my eardrums soaking in all the magnificence. Comedy, love, tragedy, it's all in there, spilled out in a torrent of motion and dance, chorus and refrain.

For $26.50 *dingggg*

A few days later, I once again meet up with Kim at the corner of Bryant Park, at about 6 am. Why so early you ask? Well, Kim's connections through the TV industry bring us to Good Morning America's summer concert series, and a free concert is being held in the park. She also has some kind of pull so she gets us into the VIP line and we head to the front of the stage.

YAAAaaaieeah! For some reason I always hear Lil Jon when I see Usher. OOKAAAaaaayyy!

One thing I learned from listening to the music at this concert is how much I love the acoustic instruments used. With a full band, the music had such presence, the sound very filling. I thought, "great, his album must sound just as good!" Went and downloaded it. Aaaaand....

His album SUCKS. After hearing the acoustic instruments at the concert, it felt like the music regressed into some weak rendition as his album spat half-hearted beats of synthetic piffle. Promptly deleted.

Another day found us stopping by the MoMA to see Olafur Eliasson's exhibit called "Take Your Time." Mirrors, lights, strobes, water are his paints and space is his canvas. Many of the works take entire rooms, starting with a black canvas absent of light and adding it in an interesting way.

One of the works was, once again, a completely dark room. You hear falling water, not a cascade but a light shower. Strobe lights, popping a few times a second, freeze a series of falling droplets in time. A curtain of water, it is not; floating sparkles of light, it is.

Another work, another pitch black room. Instead of drops of water, it's a fine mist falling from the ceiling. A spotlight shines obliquely through this curtain of mist to create an indoor rainbow.

One work even used a color to create a monochrome effect. Two hallways in the MoMA are illuminated with a series of flourescent bulbs, all with a deep yellow tint. With such a narrow band of color, you can only see everything in shades from yellow to black.

Yes, these are some pretty cool exhibits.

Somewhere in this madness, I was left in charge of My Linh and we decided to stop by the UNIQLO during the day after heading to PS1, the other half of the MoMA to continue checking out Olafur Eliasson's exhibits. I managed to pick up two shirts and the best fitting pair of jeans I've ever owned for way cheaper than I expected. Newfound respect for this store. Too bad it's only in New York, London, Paris and Japan. After UNIQLO, we headed to Brooklyn Heights to grab a good photo of the skyline, and we have this as a result.

Patience is really useful when hunting the photo.

One of the reasons why I stayed in New York so long is beacuse of Letterman. I've always wanted to see his show live ever since I was like 12, when I used to watch his show with his Top 10s and Paul Schaeffer, who always reminded me of Arthur from The Tick. Having some guest passes for June 2nd's taping, I lept at the chance and was ready and waiting in line that afternoon. After being shuffled into the waiting room and patiently standing for a half hour while all preparations were finalized, we are finally let in to the Ed Sullvan Theatre. The set is much smaller than I anticipated! It was great to hear Paul Schaefer and his band play, and to watch Letterman do what he does best with his stars: interview.

Alas, it's too bad Paul is kind of annoying, always jumping in with some strange comment, parroting Dave's words once in a while. It felt like he'd almost interrupt the flow of the show, but Letterman always pulls it back into motion. Afterwards, I would say that, given the stars at that time (none which I really knew) and Paul being a weirdo, it just felt like I just saw the show on TV. The only part that really sticks out differently is the music hitting you in the face so much more being live, and they show funny clips of other shows during commercials.

Kim has some amazing friends. I met Marissa at Alice's Tea Cup where the two of them would go over stories about fun times in New York when Kim used to live here. My Linh and I sat mesmerized by her stories of her best friends and the things they used to do, Kirk, Chica, Rain and countless others that I forgot about. Chica is such a fun person, always with something hilarious to say about one of the stars. She will go on and on about so and so and this and that, and it's entertaining as hell to hear what she has to say about anyone and everyone! Later that night after Letterman, Kim mentioned that they were going to meet up with some friends, one guy named Rain. Who names themselves Rain?

It turns out, awesome people. Rain is the guy that wrote, filmed and put together this hilarious webisode I caught a little before my trip. The reason why I know about it is because Ryan sent it to me mostly because the main character looks like our friend Arthur but talks like Woody Allen. Check it out at www.72canal.com. What a shock it was when we walked up and it's that guy! I was totally geeking out "Holy shit you're the guy from 72nd to Canal!" A very chill guy, hilarious as fuck and owns a photography studio in the Chinatown area (hence, Canal). I really wish he could continue the web series, it was great but alas, there's no funding for any more episodes at the moment. Hopefully they can get some soon.

Speaking about photography, earlier that day, Kat and I got up early to get over to the Adorama in Manhattan, grab some strobes and pocketwizards and get down to strobing bizness. Doing my best to teach her what I could remember from my fundamentals in lighting class, we had a blast messing around with lights and taking photos of one another. I think I got a little impatient with answering lots of questions though, I know I interrupted Kat a few times. I hope I wasn't being so mean!

Here's some of the results.

I wish we had more time to geek out about the photography stuff! We just ran out of time at the end of it all =/ Booo.

Overall, I really love New York. If I could get hired with Google or find some other company that had an office in New York, I would move there, possibly into Kat and Abe's closet, and work on photography stuff on the side.

It would be beautiful.

Completion (Please Wait)

2008-05-27T20:24:00.000+01:00

I'm going to finish this.

I've hit the ground running, starting to prepare for interviews, seeing some friends and finding old connections, and acclimating myself to the life and world that is here, Los Angeles, California (for example, I forgot the code for our house burglar alarm so the alarm blasted and now I'm waiting for Brinks to call so I can stop the police from coming and harassing me... yes, it has definitely been a while) that I have just not had the time to spend on photos and writing.

I hope to have a little break to get everything settled away and hopefully some time will open up so I can jot these thoughts down before they leave me forever!

It will come.

Plans for posts:

New York, part 2
San Francisco
Returning home
Overview, new thoughts, things learned (if I can figure them out and communicate them)
Statistics
A few thoughts on the responses I am getting

It WILL come.

Taking a bite out of the apple

2008-05-25T14:39:00.001+01:00

Lugging my indescribably heavy bag to Heathrow, I send it off to the baggage check in and breathe a sigh of equal parts relief, bliss, and victory. Making sure all of my bits and pieces of carry on are with me, I'm on the plane and bid farewell to Europe as the ground fades away below.

I've flown so many times in the past few months that it's all pretty much automatic. Get to the airport early. Make sure to have the right confirmation codes and outbound flights (if necessary). Check in. Take off watch, belt, phone, etc. and pass through security. Immigration/passport checkpoint. Go to gate. Wait/read/buy/eat food. Board. Liftoff. Check check checkity check.

The whole preparation part, meanwhile, bothers me, those two to three hours of hurrying up to wait. Can we break the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle already? Can't someone just "beam me up?" All this time waiting for things is good for bookreading, but it does add up to a lot of wasted time...

Anyway, after an unexpectedly tame and short flight, I land in New York. Back to US soil. Back after 8 long months. I had thought that this moment would be filled with a kind of excitement, anticipation leading up to the moment I step off the plane, like reappearing in a land from which I vanished. Nope, I was just being silly. It just feels like just another place, another mundane featureless airport, another stop in the metro of life. But not the stop that moves you forward, more like the stop that you pass through on your normal commute. Nothing special, no change in feeling detected. I begin to wonder if I really did change or grow during this trip because I don't seem to consciously register it. Maybe it's all hidden from view.

Grabbing my bag and moving out to the arrivals area, I begin to spy for Kat, my host out here. So I actually never met her in person before. This itself isn't that weird; many of my hosts for CouchSurfing I haven't met in person until I actually see them, but those connections are made for that purpose and at least I've seen what they look like (CouchSurfers have photos of themselves). Kat I met randomly because she emailed me about some movie stills in Flickr and we just got to emailing about photoraphy, dreams, and whatever else, penpal style! Of like photographic minds (just like Armand too), I mentioned I'd be heading back to the states and she said well New York is on the way back, why not?

My thoughts exactly.

I spy a paper with my name on it. How neat! That's never happened to me before. We head back to her place in Brooklyn and chat about great places to eat in the area (of course, it's always what I gotta know). I get to meet her boyfriend Abe later when he comes home from his job (sound guy for film sets, this one was for Pepsi) which is one of the coolest, chillest people I have met. Such great taste in music too.

Delicious food is finally within decent financial reach after traversing through some of the most expensive places to eat in Europe. Early on, I went to have the New York style bagel sandwich at a local place which was absolutely delectable consisting of a toasted everything bagel (all kinds of seeds), two delicious fried eggs and a layer of sausage to round it all out, ketchup salt and pepper included. Cost? $3.65. Insanely priced food is, at last, history.

Much of New York so far has been a whirlwind of events and happenings. My timing here must be something incredible as various friends from all over happen to be here when I am. Coinciding with the university graduations, many friends are in town, some from California, and one from London even. While having a delicious burger at a diner in Manhattan (Deluxe Diner) I got the chance to meet up with Chris Nguyen coming from LA for a graduation and do some work. It was so great to see him after so long and to finally have a chance to chat! The burger, by the way, was pretty much the best one I've had in ages. Meat cooked perfectly tender, it just melted away in the mouth, great fries and a decent amount of veggies to round it all out. However high Deluxe Diner raised the burger bar, any records held were totally smashed when I met up with Joe (who came from London for work reasons) and we went to the Shake Shack, located in the southeast corner of Madison Square Park. Famous for their burgers, the line is always at least a half hour long. I picked out this one called the Shake Stack, which is a layer of tomato, a layer of lettuce, cheese, a burger, a fried portobello mushroom layer, another cheese slice, and one more layer of burger. You don't really need me to describe what a feast it was, or how this burger was even MORE tasty and deliciously tender than Deluxe's. Just make it a point to go there yourself and wait in line for it when you're around these parts because it is just SO worth it.

Another thing that's great about being back in New York is having the foods that I really missed and could not get while away. Case in point: Mexican food. We all know that Los Angeles is arguably the best hub of Mexican food, and having sampled quite a few of their delicious restaurants, roach coaches and even El Parian (5/5 on The Great Taco Hunt) anything out here must be truly formidable to match my (self-proclaimed) discerning palate for the savory tortilla wrapped food.

Well, thanks to Abe, I found the spot. It's called Jennifer Cafe and it's on 67 1st Avenue at 4th St. How does it compare? Carne asada? Deep flavor, juicy and nicely tender, but a bit too much fat for my tastes. Pollo? Decent, bit dry. Carnitas?

Oh... carnitas... *drool* You just can't lose with carnitas. It's got SO much pork juice oozing out of the meat and perfectly spiced. Totally destroyed my 8 month Mexican food craving.

What else is good... Ah yes. After our Deluxe Diner feastlicious, Abe and I were still a bit hungry so we walked nearby to Koronet Pizza. For $3 you get a slice the size of home base, thin crusted New York style. I added pepperoni because I missed it so much, turning it into $4.25. It's big, it's tasty, and it's filling.

Abe, by the way, is the real Galactus. After our meal at Deluxe, he finished off his slice of cheese, and I gave him half of mine. And you guys thought *I* could eat!

To be continued...

Cruising through the countryside

2008-05-19T18:56:00.001+01:00

Another early wake up call (3:30 am), another trip to the airport when it's morning and still dark, and another super early flight brings us from the city of Fes, Morocco to Marseille, France. While in the airport, I realized that being charged 12€ to check in an extra bag of random clothes wasn't worth it, so I picked out some clothes and items that I would most likely not wear or use to throw away (of course, the cheapest stuff) and once again managed to pack everything into one bag.

Arriving in Marseille, we took a bus out to the city and then jumped on the metro a bit, hopping out at the stop near our CouchSurfer, Baptiste. After meeting Baptiste, his roommate Norman and Norman's girlfriend Anouk, everyone seemed a bit hesitant but after a bit of talking and getting to know each other, we relaxed and felt at home. Their place is great. It's very nicely decorated, a nice white/brown/red color scheme and cool sliding blinds. The livingroom is very open and has a balcony on the side, mostly used for smoking. Anouk is a budding photographer with brilliance. Her photos capture such raw emotion, are contrasty as hell and sharp as nails. Check them out when you have the chance. Baptiste is such a cool character. Hilarious timing, an amazing cook and a beer swilling filmmaker. He used to work for Troma (Cannibal, the Musical!) and loves his bloody zombie movies. Many, many requests to see his work were made, but alas, the answer was always "later."

Later that night, Baptiste handed us a bag full of different ties, wigs and whatnot. Time to head out. Without having to describe things, let's just look at the photos.

Work it

Cianar said I looked like a walking Stephen Hawking.

Rock out!

We headed out to a local Irish pub. After grabbing some beers (me, a 7up b/c of stomach issues) and sitting at a table outside, about two hours into the night, some random person came up to Cianar and mentioned something about his slick Japanese headband. What seemed like an innocently enough observation ballooned into a 5 hour talkfest about everything and anything, especially having to do with Jeremy and meeting up with him later for quite possibly would be a very explicit rendezvous.

And that's what Jeremy thought about the whole thing, as Baptiste blows a condom into a balloon and Norman looks ahead in disbelief.

Talking with Ryan while I was in the Philippines, we decided to get a car rental and drive around the countryside of France. We picked up our car, a nice Renault Clio, sort of a hatchback style car that can fit the 5 of us, we took it back to Baptiste's place and, being the awesome guy that he is, he offered to take us around to the city of Cassis! Driving through the countryside is amazing, lemme tell ya. Winding away from Marseille, the road goes up, up over a mountainside and winds through beautifully curvy and green hills. After a few more fun curves downward, we arrive at the tiny coastal city of Cassis. I don't remember too much about Cassis, but we talked about pétanque while watching some locals in the park play. Generally, the words that come to mind are: port, cold, wind. We did end up walking around the "Warning, danger" sign and go around the cliffside to the other side.

You really should click through to see the larger size.

Returning home, Baptiste threw down an amazing chicken and wine stew with about eleventy billion spices and good stuff. Despite my stomach issues, I ate more than thought possible. We talked a bit more about movies, film, and some of the ones that Baptiste liked. We saw Maniac, then moved on to Cannibal, the Musical, and finally, with a bit more beer and some egging on, Baptiste's films! Woohoo! Filled with film magic and some greatly gory special effects and makeup (and a enough male nudity to freak out the average American) each film was a horrific treat.

Bidding our eternal thanks, we took off to traverse the countryside and get ourselves to the next cities. We stopped at Aix-en-Provence for a few hours to see the city on foot, then continued to our hostel in Avignon. Pretty quiet place, and a great location---right across the river that looks into the old city of Avignon.

Here's the view:

See it large. It's worth it.

That night, we went into the city in search of food and found a great tapas place called Tapalocas. Excellent tapas, from chorizo and lentils to aubergine (eggplant) medleys and even delicious confectionery like churros and melted dark chocolate, this place was worth the crazy lost-in-the-Medina walk to get to. It also the best sangria I've ever had. Delicious!

One more day of driving around the south to head toward the salt flat area near the ocean, we stopped by a vinyard (unfortunately at closing time) and decided here that we would do Cianar's panorama.

So we did.

And it was good.

On the 14th, I headed for Bordeaux to visit Caroline and the rest of the guys headed to Paris to hang with Ryan's sister Julie and her chill husband Andrew. How was Bordeaux? It's like a nice small town, very walkable from top to bottom, covered in a day by foot easily. Unfortunately, Caroline was super busy with work (being a doctor does that kind of thing) so I didn't get to see her much, but I did go with her to this delicious sushi bar called Yako for her friend's birthday. Sushi there was awesome, fresh and tender and tasty.

My favorite thing in the city was this art piece called Miroir d'eau, the Water Mirror located in front of the Place du Bourse. Water randomly goes from 15 mm depth to less than 1 mm depth, and then sometimes a fine mist is sprayed, letting lots of people enjoy the cool water as they walk through.

If anything it makes for a nice photo.

Bordeaux is also known for its vinyards and what would be a visit to the vinyard capital of France without visiting it's vinyards? Taking a tour to two of the countryside vinyards, I arrived at Château Guiraud and tried their delicious 2002 sweet white and Château Beau-Site for their lovely smooth reds and white, which was so subtly sweet as to be perfect. Note: I don't know anything about wines, but they seemed good to me. Andrew, Julie's husband and an avid wine drinker (from what I know) remarked that it was fucking good. Awesome.

Odd thing on the train heading into Bordeaux. After a few stops, maybe half an hour before we got into the Bordeaux station, the train slows down and stops, and an announcement is made in French. After reading my book for half an hour (Kafka on the Shore by Murakami), train having not moved an inch, I started to wonder what was going on and asked the couple next to me what the problem was. They mentioned that the train had an accident; someone lept in front of it. Yikes! As the train finally started on its final leg to Bordeaux, in the window I could see many, many police cars and an ambulance, lights blazing into the night.

Odd that the same thing happened when I was in London on the tube last year. Hmm!

Through the desert

2008-05-09T22:56:00.006+01:00

Ah, Morocco. What an experience. A supremely religious, nearly militant people mixed with enough poverty across the land to erase all sentiment and feeling for travelers. Many times I felt as if I were a target for silver tongued, sometimes flat-out liars (ah sir, the Medina is closed, I will show you a nearby hotel!), only after my precious ~~gold dubloons~~ moolah. Spend enough time walking through the city and your level of trust for the people walkig about the city slowly evaporates. Walking throughout the Medina also brought out unending calls of "Jackie Chan," the occasional "Japonese!" or a mock imitation of Bruce Lee kung fu moves and/or a bow as I passed by. What turned out to be initially amusing became annoying, eventually evolving into aggravating. Now I understand how Darren felt while walking throughout China.

Prayer is held frequently throughout the day, and even at night. Every time prayer is being held, the nearby mosque blasts out religious calls and singing through their massive speaker system to be heard by everyone in the nearby area. Even at 3:30-4 am in the morning. It feels vaguely authoritarian, as if I woke up in the world of V for Vendetta or 1984.

The impressions I got from the people and the culture are not to be taken as having a bad experience. These are just some thoughts that bubbled from my head as I was writing this, things that I didn't make notes about originally. Now let's move on to those other things I had planned to write about.

We arrived in Marrakech, spent a few days at a beautiful Riad (their version of a hostel/hotel) and then moved on to Fes to stay at an amazing traditional Moroccan house. Cianar, Ryan, Diana and Jeremy got to start their CouchSurfing experience at this beautiful place.

Marrakech and Fes are similar in some ways, yet have their own personality. There is an old city surrounded by ancient walls and gates---the Medina---which is usually surrounded by the newer city, of which a part is called the Ville Nouveille (the new city). The Ville Nouveille is, as you'd expect, more modernly designed with wide paved roads, big buildings of random apartment and condos, and lots of regular shops and stores lining the street. The Medina is something else altogether. It seems as if all the space was reserved for the buildings, built so large and close to one another that all life is relegated to the tiny alleyways, blood flowing through capillaries. Barely enough space for a car, yet men with mule drawn carts and others on scooters and bikes brave it anyway, often all at the same time where pedestrians abound. City markets, both held in the larger streets and even trickling down into the alleyways, are filled with a myriad of items for sale from the typical meticulously designed rugs and carpets that might come to mind, the shiny metalworks---teapots and other elaborate stands consisting of bronze, silver and copper---to the seemingly random---used appliances like beat up washers and dryers, old office phones, and even gears and sprokets pulled out of God (Allah?) knows what. Calls constantly made to the passers by, shopkeepers gabbing with their shopkeeping neighbors, the local mosques blasting out the afternoon prayer---everyone does their part to add to the noise and the chaos that makes the old city.

As with any different culture, you get to one of my favorite parts... the food. Food here is absolutely sublime. Start with the traditional Moroccan soup known as harira, a mixture of deliciously tangy tomato base with olive oil, chickpeas, lentils and enough spices to kickstart anyone's morning, it is thick, hearty and perfect for dipping the local bread. Couscous is another favorite, tiny grains best when cooked with the broth that comes oozing out of the lamb, chicken, or what have you as it is steamed to its fluffy goodness. And then, we arrive at the tajine. Tajine is the dish of the area, a local stew made with lamb, beef or chicken. Generously garnished with carrots, string beans, cilantro, potatoes, olives and sometimes with large beans and squash, then covered in a special clay pot and thrown into the heat, tajine is a mix of intense flavors, blended textures, and the tenderest juiciest meat soaked in spices and infused with the delicious flavors and aromas of the vegetables. Slow cooked to absolute perfection, chicken breast tastes as tender and juicy as the dark meat, making one wish that the dish just never ended. Top the meal off with the ubiquitous, deliciously refreshing mint tea, and you have the makings of culinary bliss.

See, it's not all bad.

Much of the trip has been spent visiting the Medina, and walking about to find the various cultural spots like the mosques and certain museums. Much of the trip also has been spent getting horribly lost for hours as the streets seem to lack proper signage and being pretty much covered by all the tall buildings makes it difficult to keep one's bearings. Eventually, after walking in seemingly random directions, we end up at the Medina wall or are able to see the tower of the mosque nearby where we're staying at, allowing us to find our way back, arriving at a restaurant which makes the food seem just that much better to us weary, starving (thankful) travelers.

Now that I'm traveling with friends, it makes things much more interesting. Logistics increase of course, as we have to ensure that we find places and CouchSurfing hosts that can accommodate all of us. I no longer only worry about myself, I have to keep up with the rest of them and catch up (say, when I stop a moment to take a shot) or turn around every so often to make sure we're still all together if I'm (infrequently) in the front of the line. That's just the boring stuff though, it's great to see old friends again and travel with them. Cianar is the same as always, throwing off witty banter and inappropriate (but missed) comments left and right, sometimes drawing awkward looks or laughs. Jeremy, I actually didn't know too well before, but he's an expert at deftly springing his wit on the situation at hand and a master of improvisation. Diana's blunt, blunt honesty may seem harsh or tactless until you hear the disarmingly cute voice that comes with it. And Ryan's endless razor sharp wit, who can't miss that?

Here's an example: Sitting at a café after being lost for a while, we stop to take a break, get some café au lait (coffee with milk) and some ice cream. Invariably, someone breaks out the cards and we launch into games of pusoy dos, taking a relaxing afternoon break in the cool shade and welcoming breeze of the café. Pusoy dos is a game where one's goal is to get rid of cards by putting down increasingly high hands, starting with singles, and then dropping up to 5-card poker hands. After an intense round of playing, a few straights and even a full house, Diana goes after the straight flush with her own 5-card hand: Q, K, A, 2 and a 3, dropping it with gusto onto the pile, big grin on her face. Ryan calmly turns to her, picks up the cards, and explains that the 3 can't wrap around in that straight, saying that "it's just like having four cool guys, and one very uncool girl." HAHAHAHA!

And then there's the Hammam experience. That one you get if you buy me a pint.

The best and the worst

2008-05-02T21:08:00.001+01:00

So many people - aunts, uncles and cousins (from Zambo to Bacolod, and of course here in Manila - Anson, Andy, Hil, Andre and Bian), all my nephews and nieces (most of the crazy awesome ones in Zambo! Corinne and Mikey, I will miss you guys, geezers), dive homies (Robert, Mark--laziest dive instructor on the planet, Mel, Rania and Ices, and also Rhea---keep the blog stalking going---and Dengue Alert), crazy SAF guy that cut me while teaching me how to wield a knife correctly (Gilbert, you're nuts, seriously, learn some fuckin' English so your conversation isn't limited to "how to kill people" tutorials), and of course, 蕭玉銘, who absolutely rocks my world. Sucks to go. So many memories. So much time spent here, so much I will miss, my home away from home away from home.

I really love meeting these amazing people, people I can share stories with, hear stories about, and with what limited time I have had here (it always seems limited when you are just next to departing) push myself past my own boundaries, open up to others, learn about them, and as always, learn something about me.

I really hate knowing that for certain ones, this might be the last time I'll see any of them. Everyone has their own path, and while I'm glad to have crossed with theirs, it saddens me to know that crossing does not mean continuing with.

My footsteps will no longer be next to yours and that... kills me.

Here's to hoping they cross again.

So, au revoir, so long, goodbye, paalam. I'll miss you so God damn much.

Short and to some point, hopefully. 4 in the morning, hard to write.

Journey to the West

2008-04-25T06:30:00.001+01:00

I'm preparing for Europe once again. Last time, my journey was solo. This time, I will join friends: Cianar, Ryan Kim, Diana Wong, and Jeremy Shranko.

Excited!

List of things on the roster:

London
Marrekech, Morocco
Fes, Morocco
Marseille, South of France
Arles, South of France
Avignon, South of France
Aix-en-Provence, South of France
Paris
London

Looks like there's a bit of Africa on there too. Oooo.

We are thinking of renting a car for the South of France. Part of me can't wait to be behind the wheel of a manual shift car again. The last time I was behind the wheel? I got to park Rhea's car here in Manila and, while I only went like 2 feet, it really made me miss driving a stick. Watch out Frenchies, I'm comin to a street near you!

Issue so far is finding housing. France has a holiday the days we will be passing through the South, so everybody that's CouchSurfing is away or hosting other people, and the hostels and things are booked. I've been a bit lucky with some of the CouchSurfers and so has Diana, so we've got a few important places covered (Fes, Marseille, Aix-en-Provence) but we're gonna have to fall back to hostels and ever so kind friends/relatives for the other places.

Some thoughts on packing (light)

2008-04-25T05:20:00.004+01:00

Let's talk about packing. Now that I'm heading back to Europe and doing the backpacking thing again, it's something that I've been thinking about lately and have to prepare for. I don't know if I ever mentioned how I packed for this trip. You must think, well, he's been gone for a longass time, must have brought a ton of things with him. Well, true, I do have a lot of different things, I just don't have a lot of stuff.

Backpacking is about packing light, about looking at everything you can possibly use out there and then breaking it down into the most necessary of things---the things that you won't be able to find out there---and then removing everything extraneous so that while you're walking, you don't look like I did when I was in the 7th grade, a tiny 90 pound Chinese boy carrying a locker's worth of binders and books. This is tougher than it sounds, because as the saying goes, "everything is essential, only some things more than others." You have to keep in mind, most small things can be bought along the way.

Let's talk numbers. 30-40 liters, maybe 50 liters max. That's not a very big amount, folks. That's about one backpack. Hence, the term, backpacking.

What did I bring on this trip? I started with:

Stuff:

Crumpler Karachi Outpost photography backpack, with foam dividers¹ and laptop insert.
Macbook Pro, 15", with power cord
Canon EOS 30D Digital SLR
EF-S 17-55 mm f/2.8 IS lens
EF 75-300 f/3.5-5.6 lens. Thanks to Adrian for letting me borrow his zoom. I'm not carrying my fatty 70-200 across the world. That thing is too big.
Canon battery charger and extra battery
60 GB 5th gen iPod. My storage for all the photos that I've been taking. I've filled 10 12 DVDs of photos, and that's after going through and deleting a bunch. About 45 50 gigabytes.
USB card reader
Cheap tripod¹
Gorillapod SLR Zoom
Lonely Planet 2006 Edition Western Europe guidebook²
Leatherman uber-knife³
Sony Fontopia in-ear headphones (Asked for and got 25% off, $30, best evar)
Timex Ironman watch, the one Will Ferrel wore in Stranger Than Fiction.
Oakley Square Wire 2.0 Polarized. Now with more scratches than a DJ convention.

Toiletries:

1 tube of toothpaste small enough to go through airport security
1 toothbrush, standard non electronic
1 small bottle of shampoo*
1 bar of travel soap*
1 small bottle of gel*
1 razor, few replacements*

Clothing:

1 pair of khakis, dark olive
1 pair of khakis, regular khaki color*
2 AE collared shirts, one semifancy, one regular. Both blue (haha! It's like I have a uniform!)
1 thin GAP jacket.
1 REI travel undershirt*
1 Nike (American) football dry fit shirt (used as undershirt)
1 Travel towel*
1 Travel boxers, Ex Officio
1 Travel briefs, Ex Officio
1 Joe Boxer knit boxers
1 Old Navy dark blue tshirt*
1 pair of 2 dollar sandals from WalMart*
1 pair of Keen shoes (hybrid footwear, they call it) that I bought from REI a day before I left. These are amazing, taking all the terrain I've thrown at it and however many thousands of steps with pride. Because the toe end is shaped larger than the heel (for comfort) my Aunt calls them Mickey Mouse shoes.

* Vanished along the way.
¹ I sent home because it was taking space, or a pain in my ass.
² Left this with Joe in London.
³ On the way back to London, a security guy at the airport took it from me. Brought it all throughout the US and Europe for years, and they had to take it away at such a late stage. Go fig.

All that fits in my backpack. One backpack. I carry nothing else with me, no extra bags. Why did I pick this expensive ass Crumpler backpack (online $120 or so, you get ripped off at the photo store) instead of a $30 Jansport you can find at any sports shop? Because this bag is THICK, it's made to protect expensive photography equipment, and by design, you can only open it when it's taken off. Theft deterrent, protecting my stuff, carries everything. Works for me.

One backpack means I don't spend any time in the airport waiting for the baggage claim, dealing with the hassle of lost baggage or worrying about extra liabilities for all those thieves you hear about.

To many of you, this might come as a shocker. So little clothing! Ever try carrying a giant SLR, a laptop, extra electronic gadgetry, and then try to add a bunch of clothes? As my friend Cianar might say, "You ask the impossible!" I didn't have to bring all this stuff. I could have brought a point and shoot, 50 gigabytes of memory and left the laptop at home. But I don't have a point and shoot. Or 50 gigabytes of memory. And then I wouldn't have been able to capture these.

Compromise accepted.

Except for the pants, most things can be washed in the sink and dried within a few hours. Usually the people I stayed with would be so gracious as to let me use their laundry machine and keep my clothes so fresh and so clean, clean. Travel underwear and dry fit clothing (sweat wicking) is a godsend. As is that travel towel, which I am now lacking (sigh).

After being out here for a while, I heard that my dad also has bought a giant backpack, and plans to do some backpacking on his own, haha! Maybe it's never too late, eh? Although, I don't think I'm going to be as healthy as he is when I'm nearly 70 years old.

This also means I don't have any room for souvenirs. If you want something from the far ends of the earth, looks like you'll have to get it yourselves! Bahahaha! OK, this was a lie, I got some people in the Philippines souvenirs from Australia. And I got Cianar the special Seven Stars Custom cigs that he so loves (which, he'll be able to pack and use throughout Europe!) But that's it. Going back to Europe, I'm in backpack mode again.

Of course, I'm bound to pick up things along the way.

Countless bottles of toothpaste, gel, shampoo, bars of soap, extra razorblades, sunscreen.
Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Left it with Joe in London.
Plug converters for Europe system, UK system, and eventually Australia. These also mysteriously vanished.
Beanie, gloves, scarf from H&M in various spots around Europe. Scotland just got too damn cold.
Extra in-ear rubber piece for my Sony headphones. Lost one, and these things became useless.
Fleece jacket from Uni Qlo in London. Bit more warmth.
Awesome thick jacket from China which Ling bargained down for. He is a master of in-your-face bargaining.
Haruki Murakami's Dance Dance Dance, Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, After Dark, Norwegian Wood, and Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman. I gave all these to Lesli. She'll give them a good home.
Pair of sandals that I picked up walking around Manila, in the Divisoria (dirt cheap mall), about $30, which I have used the entire time.
Dry-fit faux Nike, Adidas shirts, $3 each in Ho Chi Minh City. My Adidas shirt (my fave) I left it in Australia.
Two pairs of faux Adidas shorts, 150 pesos for both (almost $4, used as swim trunks)
Real Nike dry-fit shirt.
Bunch of T-shirts from SM here in Philippines.
Some cheap shorts, also from SM.
Bunch of extra boxers from SM.
Open Water PADI SCUBA certification.
Nike pants, ~~$50~~ free, because I needed pants to get into this lounge/bar and Alix wanted everyone to go along and drink. He offered to pay for part of it, and ended up just buying them. Thanks Alix! Now my fave pants, they fit well and hold stuff in the pockets better.
Shitload of dive gear: Aquamundo 1st/2nd stage regulators, BCD, wetsuit, booties, Abeam mask and snorkel.
Suunto Stinger dive computer.
Canon PowerShot A720 IS camera, and WP-DC16 underwater case. Sold to someone here in the Philippines for small profit.
Crumpler messenger bag, for Europe. This is my first messenger bag ever, and I love it.
Haruki Murakami's After the Quake, Kafka on the Shore, A Wild Sheep Chase. For the upcoming trip (buying books in Europe is too expensive)
New travel/superabsorbent towel to replace my lost one.
And of course, countless memories of people, places, friends and family. The best things to pick up along the way!

The Second Bakery Attack

2008-04-23T11:13:00.005+01:00

I'm still not sure I made the right choice when I told my wife about the bakery attack. But then, it might not have been a question of right and wrong. Which is to say that wrong choices can produce right results, and vice versa. I myself have adopted the position that, in fact, we never choose anything at all. Things happen. Or not.

If you look at it this way, it just so happens that I told my wife about the bakery attack. I hadn't been planning to bring it up--I had forgotten all about it--but it wasn't one of those now-that-you-mention-it kind of things, either.

What reminded me of the bakery attack was an unbearable hunger. It hit just before two o'clock in the morning. We had eaten a light supper at six, crawled into bed at nine-thirty, and gone to sleep. For some reason, we woke up at exactly the same moment. A few minutes later, the pangs struck with the force of the tornado in The Wizard of Oz. These were tremendous, overpowering hunger pangs.

Our refrigerator contained not a single item that could be technically categorized as food. We had a bottle of French dressing, six cans of beer, two shriveled onions, a stick of butter, and a box of refrigerator deodorizer. With only two weeks of married life behind us, we had yet to establish a precise conjugal understanding with regard to the rules of dietary behavior. Let alone anything else.

I had a job in a law firm at the time, and she was doing secretarial work at a design school. I was either twenty-eight or twenty-nine--why can't I remember the exact year we married?--and she was two years and eight months younger. Groceries were the last things on our minds.

We both felt too hungry to go back to sleep, but it hurt just to lie there. On the other hand, we were also too hungry to do anything useful. We got out of bed and drifted into the kitchen, ending up across the table from each other. What could have caused such violent hunger pangs?

We took turns opening the refrigerator door and hoping, but no matter how many times we looked inside, the contents never changed. Beer and onions and butter and dressing and deodorizer. It might have been possible to saute the onions in the butter, but there was no chance those two shriveled onions could fill our empty stomachs. Onions are meant to be eaten with other things. They are not the kind of food you use to satisfy an appetite.

"Would madame care for some French dressing sauteed in deodorizer?"

I expected her to ignore my attempt at humor, and she did. "Let's get in the car and look for an all-night restaurant," I said. "There must be one on the highway."

She rejected that suggestion. "We can't. You're not supposed to go out to eat after midnight." She was old-fashioned in that way.

I breathed once and said, "I guess not."

Whenever my wife expressed such an opinion (or thesis) back then, it reverberated in my ears with the authority of a revelation. Maybe that's what happens with newlyweds, I don't know. But when she said this to me, I began to think that this was a special hunger, not one that could be satisfied through the mere expedient of taking it to an all-night restaurant on the highway.

A special kind of hunger. And what might that be?

I can present it here in the form of a cinematic image.

One, I am in a little boat, floating on a quiet sea. Two, I look down, and in the water, I see the peak of a volcano thrusting up from the ocean floor. Three, the peak seems pretty close to the water's surface, but just how close I cannot tell. Four, this is because the hypertransparency of the water interferes with the perception of distance.

This is a fairly accurate description of the image that arose in my mind during the two or three seconds between the time my wife said she refused to go to an all-night restaurant and I agreed with my "I guess not." Not being Sigmund Freud, I was, of course, unable to analyze with any precision what this image signified, but I knew intuitively that it was a revelation. Which is why--the almost grotesque intensity of my hunger notwithstanding--I all but automatically agreed with her thesis (or declaration).

We did the only thing we could do: opened the beer. It was a lot better than eating those onions. She didn't like beer much, so we divided the cans, two for her, four for me. While I was drinking the first one, she searched the kitchen shelves like a squirrel in November. Eventually, she turned up a package that had four butter cookies in the bottom. They were leftovers, soft and soggy, but we each ate two, savoring every crumb.

It was no use. Upon this hunger of ours, as vast and boundless as the Sinai Peninsula, the butter cookies and beer left not a trace.

Time oozed through the dark like a lead weight in a fish's gut. I read the print on the aluminum beer cans. I stared at my watch. I looked at the refrigerator door. I turned the pages of yesterday's paper. I used the edge of a postcard to scrape together the cookie crumbs on the tabletop.

"I've never been this hungry in my whole life," she said. "I wonder if it has anything to do with being married."

"Maybe," I said. "Or maybe not."

While she hunted for more fragments of food, I leaned over the edge of my boat and looked down at the peak of the underwater volcano. The clarity of the ocean water all around the boat gave me an unsettled feeling, as if a hollow had opened somewhere behind my solar plexus--a hermetically sealed cavern that had neither entrance nor exit. Something about this weird sense of absence--this sense of the existential reality of nonexistence--resembled the paralyzing fear you might feel when you climb to the very top of a high steeple. This connection between hunger and acrophobia was a new discovery for me.

Which is when it occurred to me that I had once before had this same kind of experience. My stomach had been just as empty then...When?...Oh, sure, that was--

"The time of the bakery attack," I heard myself saying.

"The bakery attack? What are you talking about?"

And so it started.

"I once attacked a bakery. Long time ago. Not a big bakery. Not famous. The bread was nothing special. Not bad, either. One of those ordinary little neighborhood bakeries right in the middle of a block of shops. Some old guy ran it who did everything himself. Baked in the morning, and when he sold out, he closed up for the day."

"If you were going to attack a bakery, why that one?"

"Well, there was no point in attacking a big bakery. All we wanted was bread, not money. We were attackers, not robbers."

"We? Who's we?"

"My best friend back then. Ten years ago. We were so broke we couldn't buy toothpaste. Never had enough food. We did some pretty awful things to get our hands on food. The bakery attack was one."

"I don't get it." She looked hard at me. Her eyes could have been searching for a faded star in the morning sky. "Why didn't you get a job? You could have worked after school. That would have been easier than attacking bakeries."

"We didn't want to work. We were absolutely clear on that."

"Well, you're working now, aren't you?"

I nodded and sucked some more beer. Then I rubbed my eyes. A kind of beery mud had oozed into my brain and was struggling with hunger pangs.

"Times change. People change," I said. "Let's go back to bed. We've got to get up early."

"I'm not sleepy. I want you to tell me about the bakery attack."

"There's nothing to tell. No action. No excitement."

"Was it a success?"

I gave up on sleep and ripped open another beer. Once she gets interested in a story, she has to hear it all the way through. That's just the way she is.

"Well, it was kind of a success. And kind of not. We got what we wanted. But as a holdup, it didn't work. The baker gave us the bread before we could take it from him."

"Free?"

"Not exactly, no. That's the hard part." I shook my head. "The baker was a classical-music freak, and when we got there, he was listening to an album of Wagner overtures. So he made us a deal. If we would listen to the record all the way through, we could take as much bread as we liked. I talked it over with my buddy and we figured, Okay. It wouldn't be work in the purest sense of the word, and it wouldn't hurt anybody. So we put our knives back in our bag, pulled up a couple of chairs, and listened to the overtures to Tannhauser and The Flying Dutchman."

"And after that, you got your bread?"

"Right. Most of what he had in the shop. Stuffed it in our bag and took it home. Kept us fed for maybe four or five days." I took another sip. Like soundless waves from an undersea earthquake, my sleepiness gave my boat a long, slow rocking.

"Of course, we accomplished our mission. We got the bread. But you couldn't say we had committed a crime. It was more of an exchange. We listened to Wagner with him, and in return, we got our bread. Legally speaking, it was more like a commercial transaction."

"But listening to Wagner is not work," she said.

"Oh, no, absolutely not. If the baker had insisted that we wash his dishes or clean his windows or something, we would have turned him down. But he didn't. All he wanted from us was to listen to his Wagner LP from beginning to end. Nobody could have anticipated that. I mean--Wagner? It was like the baker put a curse on us. Now that I think of it, we should have refused. We should have threatened him with our knives and taken the damn bread. Then there wouldn't have been any problem."

"You had a problem?"

I rubbed my eyes again.

"Sort of. Nothing you could put your finger on. But things started to change after that. It was kind of a turning point. Like, I went back to the university, and I graduated, and I started working for the firm and studying the bar exam, and I met you and got married. I never did anything like that again. No more bakery attacks."

"That's it?"

"Yup, that's all there was to it." I drank the last of the beer. Now all six cans were gone. Six pull-tabs lay in the ashtray like scales from a mermaid.

Of course, it wasn't true that nothing had happened as a result of the bakery attack. There were plenty of things that you could have easily put your finger on, but I didn't want to talk about them with her.

"So, this friend of yours, what's he doing now?"

"I have no idea. Something happened, some nothing kind of thing, and we stopped hanging around together. I haven't seen him since. I don't know what he's doing."

For awhile, she didn't speak. She probably sensed that I wasn't telling her the whole story. But she wasn't ready to press me on it.

"Still," she said, "that's why you two broke up, isn't it? The bakery attack was the direct cause."

"Maybe so. I guess it was more intense than either of us realized. We talked about the relationship of bread to Wagner for days after that. We kept asking ourselves if we had made the right choice. We couldn't decide. Of course, if you look at it sensibly, we did make the right choice. Nobody got hurt. Everybody got what he wanted. The baker--I still can't figure out why he did what he did--but anyway, he succeeded with his Wagner propaganda. And we succeeded in stuffing our faces with bread.

"But even so, we had this feeling that we had made a terrible mistake. And somehow, this mistake has just stayed there, unresolved, casting a dark shadow on our lives. That's why I used the word 'curse.' It's true. It was like a curse."

"Do you think you still have it?"

I took the six pull-tabs from the ashtray and arranged them into an aluminum ring the size of a bracelet.

"Who knows? I don't know. I bet the world is full of curses. It's hard to tell which curse makes any one thing go wrong."

"That's not true." She looked right at me. "You can tell, if you think about it. And unless you, yourself, personally break the curse, it'll stick with you like a toothache. It'll torture you till you die. And not just you. Me, too."

"You?"

"Well, I'm your best friend now, aren't I? Why do you think we're both so hungry? I never, ever, once in my life felt a hunger like this until I married you. Don't you think it's abnormal? Your curse is working on me, too."

I nodded. Then I broke up the ring of pull-tabs and put them back in the ashtray. I didn't know if she was right, but I did feel she was onto something.

The feeling of starvation was back, stronger than ever, and it was giving me a deep headache. Every twinge of my stomach was being transmitted to the core of my head by a clutch cable, as if my insides were equipped with all kinds of complicated machinery.

I took another look at my undersea volcano. The water was clearer than before--much clearer. Unless you looked closely, you might not even notice it was there. It felt as though the boat were floating in midair, with absolutely nothing to support it. I could see every little pebble on the bottom. All I had to do was reach out and touch them.

"We've only been living together for two weeks," she said, "but all this time I've been feeling some kind of weird presence." She looked directly into my eyes and brought her hands together on the tabletop, her fingers interlocking. "Of course, I didn't know it was a curse until now. This explains everything. You're under a curse."

"What kind of presence?"

"Like there's this heavy, dusty curtain that hasn't been washed for years, hanging down from the ceiling."

"Maybe it's not a curse. Maybe it's just me," I said, and smiled.

She did not smile.

"No, it's not you," she said.

"Okay, supposed you're right. Suppose it is a curse. What can I do about it?"

"Attack another bakery. Right away. Now. It's the only way."

"Now?"

"Yes. Now. While you're still hungry. You have to finish what you left unfinished."

"But it's the middle of the night. Would a bakery be open now?"

"We'll find one. Tokyo's a big city. There must be at least one all-night bakery."

We got into my old Corolla and started drifting around the streets of Tokyo at 2:30 a.m., looking for a bakery. There we were, me clutching the steering wheel, she in the navigator's seat, the two of us scanning the street like hungry eagles in search of prey. Stretched out on the backseat, long and stiff as a dead fish, was a Remington automatic shotgun. Its shells rustled dryly in the pocket of my wife's windbreaker. We had two black ski masks in the glove compartment. Why my wife owned a shotgun, I had no idea. Or ski masks. Neither of us had ever skied. But she didn't explain and I didn't ask. Married life is weird, I felt.

Impeccably equipped, we were nevertheless unable to find an all-night bakery. I drove through the empty streets, from Yoyogi to Shinjuku, on to Yosuya and Akasaka, Aoyama, Hiroo, Roppongi, Daikanyama, and Shibuya. Late-night Tokyo had all kinds of people and shops, but no bakeries.

Twice we encountered patrol cars. One was huddled at the side of the road, trying to look inconspicuous. The other slowly overtook us and crept past, finally moving off into the distance. Both times I grew damp under the arms, but my wife's concentration never faltered. She was looking for that bakery. Every time she shifted the angle of her body, the shotgun shells in her pocket rustled like buckwheat husks in an old-fashioned pillow.

"Let's forget it," I said. "There aren't any bakeries open at this time of night. You've got to plan for this kind of thing or else--"

"Stop the car!"

I slammed on the brakes.

"This is the place," she said.

The shops along the street had their shutters rolled down, forming dark, silent walls on either side. A barbershop sign hung in the dark like a twisted, chilling glass eye. There was a bright McDonald's hamburger sign some two hundred yards ahead, but nothing else.

"I don't see any bakery," I said.

Without a word, she opened the glove compartment and pulled out a roll of cloth-backed tape. Holding this, she stepped out of the car. I got out on my side. Kneeling at the front end, she tore off a length of tape and covered the numbers on the license plate. Then she went around to the back and did the same. There was a practiced efficiency to her movements. I stood on the curb staring at her.

"We're going to take that McDonald's," she said, as coolly as if she were announcing what we would have for dinner.

"McDonald's is not a bakery," I pointed out to her.

"It's like a bakery," she said. "Sometimes you have to compromise. Let's go."

I drove to the McDonald's and parked in the lot. She handed me the blanket-wrapped shotgun.

"I've never fired a gun in my life," I protested.

"You don't have to fire it. Just hold it. Okay? Do as I say. We walk right in, and as soon as they say, 'Welcome to McDonald's,' we slip on our masks. Got that?"

"Sure, but--"

"Then you shove the gun in their faces and make all the workers and customers get together. Fast. I'll do the rest."

"But--"

"How many hamburgers do you think we'll need? Thirty?"

"I guess so." With a sigh, I took the shotgun and rolled back the blanket a little. The thing was as heavy as a sandbag and as black as a dark night.

"Do we really have to do this?" I asked, half to her and half to myself.

"Of course we do."

Wearing a McDonald's hat, the girl behind the counter flashed me a McDonald's smile and said, "Welcome to McDonald's." I hadn't thought that girls would work at McDonald's late at night, so the sight of her confused me for a second. But only for a second. I caught myself and pulled on the mask. Confronted with this suddenly masked duo, the girl gaped at us.

Obviously, the McDonald's hospitality manual said nothing about how do deal with a situation like this. She had been starting to form the phrase that comes after "Welcome to McDonald's," but her mouth seemed to stiffen and the words wouldn't come out. Even so, like a crescent moon in the dawn sky, the hint of a professional smile lingered at the edges of her lips.

As quickly as I could manage, I unwrapped the shotgun and aimed it in the direction of the tables, but the only customers there were a young couple--students, probably--and they were facedown on the plastic table, sound asleep. Their two heads and two strawberry-milk-shake cups were aligned on the table like an avant-garde sculpture. They slept the sleep of the dead. They didn't look likely to obstruct our operation, so I swung my shotgun back toward the counter.

All together, there were three McDonald's workers. The girl at the counter, the manager--a guy with a pale, egg-shaped face, probably in his late twenties--and a student type in the kitchen--a thin shadow of a guy with nothing on his face that you could read as an expression. They stood together behind the register, staring into the muzzle of my shotgun like tourists peering down an Incan well. No one screamed, and no one made a threatening move. The gun was so heavy I had to rest the barrel on top of the cash register, my finger on the trigger.

"I'll give you the money," said the manager, his voice hoarse. "They collected it at eleven, so we don't have too much, but you can have everything. We're insured."

"Lower the front shutter and turn off the sign," said my wife.

"Wait a minute," said the manager. "I can't do that. I'll be held responsible if I close up without permission."

My wife repeated her order, slowly. He seemed torn.

"You'd better do what she says," I warned him.

He looked at the muzzle of the gun atop the register, then at my wife, and then back at the gun. He finally resigned himself to the inevitable. He turned off the sign and hit a switch on an electrical panel that lowered the shutter. I kept my eye on him, worried that he might hit a burglar alarm, but apparently McDonald's don't have burglar alarms. Maybe it had never occurred to anybody to attack one.

The front shutter made a huge racket when it closed, like an empty bucket being smashed with a baseball bat, but the couple sleeping at their table was still out cold. Talk about a sound sleep: I hadn't seen anything like that in years.

"Thirty Big Macs. For takeout," said my wife.

"Let me just give you the money," pleaded the manager. "I'll give you more than you need. You can go buy food somewhere else. This is going to mess up my accounts and--"

"You'd better do what she says," I said again.

The three of them went into the kitchen area together and started making the thirty Big Macs. The student grilled the burgers, the manager put them in buns, and the girl wrapped them up. Nobody said a word.

I leaned against a big refrigerator, aiming the gun toward the griddle. The meat patties were lined up on the griddle like brown polka dots, sizzling. The sweet smell of grilling meat burrowed into every pore of my body like a swarm of microscopic bugs, dissolving into my blood and circulating to the farthest corners, then massing together inside my hermetically sealed hunger cavern, clinging to its pink walls.

A pile of white-wrapped burgers was growing nearby. I wanted to grab and tear into them, but I could not be certain that such an act would be consistent with our objective. I had to wait. In the hot kitchen area, I started sweating under my ski mask.

The McDonald's people sneaked glances at the muzzle of the shotgun. I scratched my ears with the little finger of my left hand. My ears always get itchy when I'm nervous. Jabbing my finger into an ear through the wool, I was making the gun barrel wobble up and down, which seemed to bother them. It couldn't have gone off accidentally, because I had the safety on, but they didn't know that and I wasn't about to tell them.

My wife counted the finished hamburgers and put them into two small shopping bags, fifteen burgers to a bag.

"Why do you have to do this?" the girl asked me. "Why don't you just take the money and buy something you like? What's the good of eating thirty Big Macs?"

I shook my head.

My wife explained, "We're sorry, really. But there weren't any bakeries open. If there had been, we would have attacked a bakery."

That seemed to satisfy them. At least they didn't ask any more questions. Then my wife ordered two large Cokes from the girl and paid for them.

"We're stealing bread, nothing else," she said. The girl responded with a complicated head movement, sort of like nodding and sort of like shaking. She was probably trying to do both at the same time. I thought I had some idea how she felt.

My wife then pulled a ball of twine from her pocket--she came equipped--and tied the three to a post as expertly as if she were sewing on buttons. She asked if the cord hurt, or if anyone wanted to go to the toilet, but no one said a word. I wrapped the gun in the blanket, she picked up the shopping bags, and out we went. The customers at the table were still asleep, like a couple of deep-sea fish. What would it have taken to rouse them from a sleep so deep?

We drove for a half hour, found an empty parking lot by a building, and pulled in. There we ate hamburgers and drank our Cokes. I sent six Big Macs down to the cavern of my stomach, and she ate four. That left twenty Big Macs in the back seat. Our hunger--that hunger that had felt as if it could go on forever--vanished as the dawn was breaking. The first light of the sun dyed the building's filthy walls purple and made a giant SONY BETA ad tower glow with painful intensity. Soon the whine of highway truck tires was joined by the chirping of birds. The American Armed Forces radio was playing cowboy music. We shared a cigarette. Afterward, she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Still was it really necessary for us. to do this?" I asked.

"Of course it was!" With one deep sigh, she fell asleep against me. She felt as soft and as light as a kitten.

Alone now, I leaned over the edge of my boat and looked down to the bottom of the sea. The volcano was gone. The water's calm surface reflected the blue of the sky. Little waves--like silk pajamas fluttering in a breeze--lapped against the side of the boat. There was nothing else.

I stretched out in the bottom of the boat and closed my eyes, waiting for the rising tide to carry me where I belonged.

by Haruki Murakami

With all the talk about Haruki Murakami I've had on here, I decided to give everyone one of his short stories, a few measures from the symphony illustrating his mastery of prose. Why did I pick this one? I just really got a kick out of reading it earlier today, and I thought it was one of his short stories that wrapped up nicely. He always has a manner of writing about the most mundane, ordinary events of life, and then spicing things up with a bit of the unusual to keep your eyes on the page until the very end. Brilliant.

The interesting thing you'll notice if you read a lot of his works is how his influences show through the characters choices and tastes. Many of them are really into jazz, old jazz. The events that the characters go through hint at the topics that fascinate him or possible events and tragedies in his life. There always seems to be an overall theme of loss. Infidelity, and how it's dealt with. Missing cats, and the incredible journey and memorable characters that mysteriously appear to influence the protagonist. Watching how the characters deal with loss, going along their multifaceted journeys toward something...anything that brings them to the next step, to keep from getting sucked into the past, confronting Murakami's humorous comparisons of events to pop culture and life, and experiencing wild, sometimes supernatural events... you'll wish his books were longer so they just wouldn't end.

Some of my fave books: The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Norwegian Wood, and Dance Dance Dance.

Decide for yourself if you want to check them out. It's worth noting that you might not be able to stop.

The Rainbow's End

2008-04-16T10:37:00.022+01:00

Recipe for the perfect paradise, a.k.a. Palau

1 sun, bright and warm

1 beautiful archipelago, about 70 islands of limestone, mushroom shaped, some tiny, some long and large, covered in lush vegetation, stripped of people

A few beaches, white sand, free of garbage

1 enormous seabed, including shallow areas, some underwater caverns, channels and canyons, underwater mountains, and dropoffs whose bottoms vanish from sight

A bunch of marine lakes, saltwater, created when the the islands rose above the surface

A myriad of corals, tube worms, sponges and anemones to bring color and flavor to the seabed: feathered, fan, bulb, cabbage, etc.

Underwater vegetation, a generous amount

Thousands of species of fish, colored with all shades and tints of the rainbow, of all shapes and sizes, as many schools as you can possibly find.

A bushel of rays, manta, spotted eagle, green. Small, large, you'll want them all.

As many sharks as you can find, all kinds. The bigger and more dangerous, the better.

A smattering of sea turtles, the gracefully gliding, peaceful kind

The purest, clearest oceanwater only found hundreds of miles away from any large civilizaton

A clear blue sky and clean air, free from pollutants

Pockets of beautiful white clouds and a few large gray ones heavy with rain

A few birds

Lots and lots of cute golden jellyfish, the harmless kind

Remove as many people from the archipelago as you can. Leave a few of the indigenous Palauans to stay and take care of things. Mix seabed and oceanwater in an area hundreds of miles away from civilization. Add corals to taste, coloring the seabed until satisfied. Throw in underwater vegetation, toss vigorously. Place the set of islands on top of seabed.

Throw some of the marine lakes in the low areas of large islands. Sprinkle the beaches sparsely around some of the islands, maybe less than 5% of island perimeter. Drop some birds around the islands, and a few in the water in between islands.

Throw all jellyfish in marine lakes. The one lake that has the most jellyfish, call that Jellyfish Lake, then take a moment to be proud of the immense bounty that is your unrelenting creativity. Take the copious rainbow colored fishes and spread liberally all around the islands. Some of the small ugly black fish, throw those in Jellyfish Lake for no good reason.

Put a few of the fish with huge eye sockets in cavernous dark areas, like Chandelier Cave and the Blue Holes.

Pick a few choice spots to place the rays, perhaps near the German Channel and New Drop Off, and possibly throw in some turtles for good measure. Looking at the giant mass of sharks left, decide to throw them everywhere, at random, mixing sharks of all kinds. Be liberal with the sharks around Blue Corner.

Bake everything in the heat of the sun for eons. When done, it should smell, feel, look, sound and taste like absolute bliss. Enjoy liberally with friends and diving buddies. Serves all those daring enough to visit it and go below the surface, until it is destroyed by time, Mother Nature or humanity.

Oh so bittersweet

2008-04-10T17:57:00.005+01:00

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save everyday
Till eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save everyday
Like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them

It was fun getting "interviewed" over dinner. See you, sometime.

Diver Down

2008-04-07T18:26:00.013+01:00

Suunto Stinger dive computer... check.
Canon Powershot A720IS... check.
Underwater case for said digicam... check.
8 gigs of SD memory for said digicam... check.
Rash guard... check.

Mmm. Stinger.

All my new equipment is ready to go. So am I.

Diver Down!

Another dip in the ocean blue, this time in Puerto Galera, about two to three hours by car and then another hour to the resort (called Oceana) by boat.

Man, there's something about boats that makes me uneasy. Fortunately there are some unique remedies that, strangely, seem to combat seasickness. Skittles are strange and magical at keeping nausea at bay (it HAS to be Skittles), and if you have an orange or tangerine, peel off the rind and hold it up to your nose to sniff. It is unbelievably calming and reduces fatigue as well. And then you get to eat some of the yummy fruit. Can't complain about that.

What's on the menu this time? More corals, more fishes (many of them this time, more than Anilao) and things hidden in nooks and crannies. Since my underwater case is brand new, I needed to test it to ensure that it wouldn't leak at depth, so the first dive is camera less. It's a practice dive, taking things easy and getting back into the feel of things.

And now, for the real dive. With my camera! Wooo! This time, we head on over nearer to the shore where more boats are around. More divers, it would seem. This area specializes in... drumroll ...

WRECKS! Not one, but 3!

All sorts of things live on the derelict ship.

Morays,

shrimp,

a lionfish,

starfish,

The wreck itself is teeming with life of all kinds. So many fishes and corals make their home in the ribs of the boat itself. The shrimp hang out underneath the hull in the dark shadows, morays find a comfy nook somewhere to curl up in, and the starfish slowly creeps its way all over. It's a beautiful sight. This wreck is made entirely out of wood, so things seem to be pretty clear, a lack of particulates in the water allowing for good visibility.

There's also plenty of vegetation. I really love the unique plants that live down there.

Look at this thing. I love these puffy green things. The insides probably influence Hollywood movies with aliens.

Here's some other inhabitants.

While we visit the ships, a group of curious batfish come by to take a peek at what's going on.

These guys are big, slightly larger than a foot from mouth to tail. I wonder if they're delicious.

Somewhere along the way, a big lumbering shadow is spotted.

Pawikan! It's so big. Beautiful.

Other random things seen: A wee nudibranch hanging out in the sand.

Some strange fish that stays very still, even as I stick my lens up to its face. This is the first underwater photo I took with my camera.

Ooo. A snake.

The next day, we wake up again at the asscrack of dawn, and this time take the boat further out to an island on the horizon. The island itself is shaped like a boot (like Italy, except standing straight up) and we stop near the tip of the boot where some rocks are pointing out of the water. It turns out the rocks are the apex of an underwater mountain, which we are going to explore. Descending into the depths, we have to fight a current, and since we're constantly on the move, I'm not really taking photos, just trying to keep up, attempting to relax as I go along to conserve air.

I turn around, and half of our group is gone. Huh?

Continuing to streamline myself and cut through the current, we arrive at what seems to be a break in the mountain. The other divemaster instructs us to grab a hold of something so we can see over the edge. Being pushed around, I let go to find a clearer spot and... find myself getting further and further away from everyone. Current... strong... Fighting my way back to the rocks, I grab hold and peer over, seeing some gigantic fishes swimming about in a vast canvas of blue.

Returning to the ship, I get reaaaaaaaaly seasick, and thanks to the other divers who brought tangerines/oranges, I'm OK, but really tired. Half of our group decides to go back to the wreck and take it easy, while half of the group will persist.

Oh, what originally happened to the other half of the divers? Mel's regulator broke and started to freeflow. She had to be taken out before her air ran out.

Last dive: Back to the wrecks. Ah, relaxing. No currents to worry about. Except for Ices, who shot up too fast and had to breathe some gold ol' pure oxygen.

The current where the other group went was a lot stronger, and they had issues with their ascent, so they all had to breathe some pure oxygen too. Luckily for us, we stayed at the calm, relaxing wreck area, so we're all A-OK.

Until next time.

Tonight, I leave for Palau. Swimming with the sharks. Sounds great.

My White Whale

2008-04-03T17:01:00.011+01:00

This is the famous Sydney Opera House. I spent three days looking for a good one of it.

The photos are now up on the Australia Photoset. Stop by, and take a look!

And now, for some panoramics. They might not show up correctly, so if they get cut off, just head on over to the Australia Photoset.

To the right, you'll see the Harbor Bridge. To the left, the Sydney Opera House as seen from the other side of the water. I walked from the inner city to where I took this photo. Took the train back (it was starting to get pretty cold!)

This is the view from our balcony where we stayed in the Gold Coast. Pretty, no?

The one without form

2008-04-03T09:31:00.002+01:00

Wow, what an adventure.

I made a joke to Darren as I was leaving Sydney, that I was about to get on the plane and disappear from the world for two days. "Two days to go back to Manila? That's crazy talk," he responds.

Funny how things can come true sometimes.

My flight from Sydney to Kuala Lumpur was supposed to take off at 10:40. 10:40 rolls around, and nobody has boarded the plane yet. Turns out there's an engineering problem, and the guys just finished working on the issue. Unfortunately, it's now almost 11 pm, and Sydney has this flight curfew. No flights out of the area after 11. Yikes!

Well, the flight got delayed. We are to stay overnight in Sydney, and take the next plane out of the city, which is 12:30 pm next day. OK, guess that's not so bad. Other passengers, however, seem to be freaking out. Asking all sorts of questions, making demands. Popping my headphones on and turning on the tunes, I remember what Donna in Brisbane said. Those people with road rage? Yeah, they don't have good music, that's all. Life isn't so bad with good tunes.

Indeed.

The hotel isn't bad, in fact it's pretty nice. Includes breakfast. Can't say no to a free breakfast and a good clean room and bed!

Getting up in the morning, I mozy my way over to the airport and find out... after arriving in Kuala Lumpur, I'm to overnight again for the next flight to Manila from there isn't until the morning of the 2nd. Sigh. In the line, I chat up these two people speaking an interesting language. Turns out they're Italian and also got stuck on the same flight heading to Kuala Lumpur. It's funny but, when I hear Italians speaking to each other, it always sounds like they're mad at one another. Bla bla blah INO! Yakka yak GONZA! Blady blah CCHINI! Que puzza!

Eventually I learned that they're brother and sister and (like my original idea) the sister frequently gets mad at the brother. And because of that, I thought they were 'together' HAHAHA.

Anyway, one longass flight later, I arrive in Kuala Lumpur. It feels like the Philippines. One thousand percent humidity. Sweat condensing on the skin, constantly. Thankfully, my hotel is right next to the airport (free electric kart shuttle! Whee!), the room is super nice, and I get free dinner and breakfast.

Hey, while I'm here, might as well see the city a bit. Why yes, I'll tour a bit of KL on Malaysia Air's dollar. Why not?

Sometimes the choice without form is good. Very good.

Traveling Alone

2008-04-03T05:20:00.005+01:00

The older you get, the more boring traveling alone becomes. It's different when you're younger---whether you're alone or not, traveling can be a blast. But as you age, the fun factor declines. Only the first couple of days are enjoyable. After that, the scenery becomes annoying, and people's voices start to grate. There's no escape, for if you close your eyes to block these out, all kinds of unpleasant memories pop up. It gets to be too much trouble to eat in a restaurant, and you find yourself checking you watch over and over as you wait for streetcars that never seem to arrive. Trying to make yourself understood in a foreign language becomes a total pain.

From Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman by Haruki Murakami

I, for one, hope that this never happens to me, at any point in my life. But if it does, it begs the question... why wait for retirement to explore this planet we live on?

Traveling Connections

2008-03-29T04:27:00.002Z

As we move about in life, we come in contact with many different kinds of people. We're not islands, and if we choose to be, we're more like an archipelago, one spot of land amidst tons of others around us, some closer and easier to connect to, others requiring a few hops. I left the US a generally shy person (or, at least I thought of myself as one) and have hopefully grown past that in some ways.

In some ways, I guess I'm still the same.

Having now been in Australia for a bit, I move on to Adelaide, a sort of sleepy big town in South Australia. It reminds me of a large suburb, lots of houses and small shops, and a fair bit of driving to get you to the downtown city area. Not really that much to do, or maybe it just feels that way since I don't have a Lonely Planet Australia or took the time to look up places to go out and about.

Not that I really mind.

Most of the time has been spent lazing about at Sarah's place. I met Sarah at the tail end of my Europe trip while in Italy, one of the many people in the hostel in Cinque Terre back in early November. Since I was heading down to these neck of the woods, I'd figure I'd see if she was up for a visitor... and here I am, drinking one of her many loose leaf teas. Sarah is the only person I know of that loves tea more than I do. She has at least 50 different kinds of tea from all parts of the world (India, China, Taiwan, Japan, etc.). She has a couple of books on them. She knows how to take the time and effort to brew the tea correctly, lowering the water temperature just so and knowing how long to steep each cup.

Which means I get to reap the tea drinking benefits of all this knowledge. Sweet.

Most of the teas, however, are past their prime, relics of ages past which should have been put out to pasture long, long ago. Which is to say, they're expired. Some, unfortunately, for years. But, no matter, we brew it and drink anyway, steeping them in the hot water for extra time to draw out the flavor and body. All of the teas, even the expired ones, still have their oomph.

It's kind of interesting how the trip has changed and evolved as time has gone by. Years and years ago, when I originally wanted to see the world, I thought about taking a Contiki Tour. The packaged 500-cities-in-7-days kind of thing, limited time in each spot. I figured, hey I have no idea how to get myself around places, and I don't know the languages, I better pick the safest bet. Then the trip got less and less structured, until where it is now, more or less flexible and open at any moment, never a set schedule, until I buy tickets anyway. Even at the beginning of the trip, everything was set up and packaged, by myself, and things were planned as the days went on to maximize waking hours, spots seen, places visited. I got to see a lot walking the cities with my camera, bringing back with me gigabytes of photos.

Fast forward to today. Here I am in Adelaide, having seen nothing and really done nothing much, except for the drinking of gallons of tea and speaking at length about anything random that comes to mind as I sit here yabbering about nonsense with Sarah. And yet, I'm having the time of my life.

She asks questions. I answer. Vice versa. I learn about the silly ways Aussies abbreviate everything (don't forget to bring your sunnies as we head out to have brekky, later in the avo let's have a cuppa and sit by the telly), about the awesome camping/hitchhiking experiences Sarah's had all over Japan with her boyfriend Tomo and her crazy run in with those Eastern Europeans in Croatia when she was much younger. She learns about technical stuff, the internet, websites, computers, and me. Anything connected to the magic that is electricity. It's like she just graduated from a typewriter to the TV with words on it (thank you Homestar Runner. Sarah if you read this, don't kill me, haha).

I found it kind of weird to talk so much, so much that I started thinking about it. When the brain starts its gears, what happens? I get self conscious. Man, I am talking way too much.

Why can't I talk to everyone the same way? Why aren't I as open with other people? Am I really so interesting, or is Sarah just being nice, and doing everything in her power to stop her forehead from slamming into the teacup on the table? Just being relaxed, talking about whatever comes to mind, without being self-conscious of whether I'm boring the other person, it's something new to me. Until the brain starts kicking in overdrive.

I'm thought it might have to do with the both of us not having exact schedules to dive back into every day. Sarah is waiting on a police report to prove that she's not a pedo so she can work at the school. Boy, I'm painting a great picture of her on this interweb thing. Good thing she's so far away eh? Haha. Anyway, she doesn't have anything particular to run off to, and I'm on vacation, so I don't have any schedule to meet on my own. Maybe having this freedom from time makes a good environment for thought and banter, over a cuppa tea. Toss in some foccacia and maybe a bowl of pasta here and there. Makes a good avo or two.

It's like what I told Ryan... Seeing this or that, going to do photography. That's fun, and I get some great photos that I like, ones that I can share with everybody. But I'm realizing that it's the people that I've met so far that have made the trip really worth it. The hours of random conversation, connecting to others, learning about one another. Those eyes, not mine, that belong to the people who can tell me things about myself, things I should have realized ages ago.

That I'm not the lame person that I always think of myself to be.

I'll really miss being in Adelaide when I'm gone.

Dance Dance Dance

2008-03-23T08:19:00.004Z

Here in Adelaide, I'm visiting Sarah and her boyfriend Tomo. The other night, upon asking what they did for fun (other than sit, read, drink teas), I found out that they are the dancing kind. They actually have a class or lesson or something that night and I figured, well hey I took some swing before, I'll go and check it out. Can't be all that bad, right?

It was freaking awesome.

Modern Jive is a dance with steps so simple, it's hard to just "get it." It can be danced to any kind of music, which is cool, opening up endless possibilities. In contrast, swing was always danced to swing music. The moves for the top half are similar to swing (in fact, you can substitute any move), only the steps for the feet differ.

I have to tell you, Tomo is my hero. He exudes this kind of energy as he dances, like a smooth flow of graceful energy, perfectly in time and utterly synced with whoever he partners with. Nothing short of amazing to watch. I get a kick out of every new move he pulls out of his repertoire (as I make mental notes on how to do them myself). Sarah's pretty good too. She's like this quiet tea loving person at home, talks slowly and softly, yet turns into this fierce, flowing, hip-moving being on the floor. Mesmerizing. Put them together, and it's like watching magic.

After coming to a class or two, I'm starting to understand how to let go of thinking always about what move to go with what, and just enjoying being out there, flowing with the music. It's taken me a while to do it, but I'm getting to that point where it surpasses learning and arrives at fun.

And there was this pretty cute Czech girl named Dasha to boot. Cute partners are always a bonus.

The title is also a good Murakami book, by the way.

Housewarmings, steaks on the barbie, and wild animals

2008-03-23T06:19:00.004Z

Got picked up at the resort in the Gold Coast by Donna and headed to one of the beaches to have a dip. The water is cooold, but very clean, the waves strong. We left soon after to head north to Brisbane, dropping off her sister in the way. She shows us their house, and... wow. Queensland houses are very open, wood floors, lots of windows. Very bright interiors, vivid colors, and old furniture. Everything feels so lived in and so cozy! I love it.

Went to see Be Kind Rewind, another one by Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Science of Sleep). Good stuff. Mos Def and Jack Black do the movie well.

BTW, other good movies I've seen: Little Miss Sunshine, Dan in Real Life, and Juno. All great. I love Steve Carell.

Oh look, Donna's roommate Colin has Halo 3! Oh look, lots of Haruki Murakami books! Turns out Donna loves him too (woohoo! Donna is awesome!). I pick up one at random, one called South of the Border, West of the Sun and start a few sentences. I'm on the couch and ending Chapter 4 before I realize anything happens. I also love Murakami.

One quick trip to the local grocery store and some hours of Halo 3 later, it becomes housewarming party time! Tons of people come by, got to talk to a lot of them. Most of them are very chill. Not long after, I begin to smell weed. Ah yes, very chill people. I really wish I could remember more people's names, but alas, my memory the way it is, you'll just have to settle for the one person's name I can remember, which is Vish, this cool chillin Indian guy. Made the biggest joints. Smoked said gargantuan joints. Passed it on.

After sleeping for what seemed like several days, the next day was pretty much do nothing and rest, relax, and recover. Finished the Murakami book, and also the campaign of Halo 3. Got to eat some great steaks (grilled on the barbie, no less) and tried some local delicious barbecue sauce. Very light, not as thick as the ones from home, and just the right amount of sweetness. It was a good day.

Next day, head on out to the Wild Animal Park (stamped with Steve Irwin's name all over it). Saw lots of cute wallabies (kangaroo like guys), some feisty echidnas, and lots of amazingly cute koalas. Afterwards, grab a meat pie, head to the otter area to watch the feeding (Asian otters, some of the smallest in the world, go fig), see two tiny cute otters swim and dive after fresh shellfish and then head out to some falls with a name that eludes me to this day. Before stopping at the falls, we stop at a lookout point where these two guys are using remote controlled kites. They look somewhat like planes, one looks similar to the stealth bomber, another like an old propeller plane. Watching them just spin, glide, turn, roll, loop and dive ... so mesmerizing.

Off to the falls... Donna takes a moment and then dives in. I get to the water edge, feel the water at my toes and feel my drive to jump in vaporize. Uh guys, this water is cold, very cold. Not cold like ice, cold like icebergs. I don't even want to think about going in slowly. I imagined the ice cold water touching my balls. The chill from that would shatter my bones! Forget it, I'm jumping.

Oh God. OH... GOD! FUCK this is cold!!

After spending about 5 minutes in this unbelievably frigid water, I learned that all energy stored in the muscles, bones, body... basically vanishes. It takes all my concentration, all my willpower, whatever gusto and strength I have left to pull myself up to the edge. My heart races, I can feel it stressing to return some warmth to the rest of my being. Then, the wave of nausea, and the feeling of my stomach saying "hey, it might come up soon" comes. Oh man, not doing so well... The guys next to me ask if I'm OK, tell me to wrap myself in the towel and get warm. 10 minutes of staring at the ground and fighting the urge to upchuck rewards me with enough energy to stand and dress. Whew, what a crazy experience!

Heading back down the mountain, we stop over at Donna's nana and pa (grandparents) for a wee bit. It's like a scene out of a movie! They make me think of the stereotypical (white) grandparents, super friendly, made us some tea, brings out all these cookies, biscuits and cheese, and we just talk about whatever came to mind. I felt so welcomed, so cozy just chatting with them all. It was such a good calming down from the crazy waterfall episode.

Tomorrow morning... off to Adelaide to see Sarah, another person I met in Manarola.

Just a side note here, might be weird writing about it but since it happened I'll just jot some thoughts down. If a girl is comfortable enough to walk around in her sleep-/underwear around me, it's a good thing, not because I especially want to stare at her (if she happens to look good, that's a bonus, no complaints from me) but because that means she'd probably not mind me walking around in mine, ha! Hey, it's hot in Brisbane and I like being cool =)

Worlds Apart

2008-03-19T23:36:00.003Z

Here I am in sunny Oz, the land down under, of kangaroos and dingoes and people with silly accents that I have trouble understanding.

So far, I love this place.

The weather is absolutely sublime, a cool 26 deg C (about 79 deg F) with low humidity, a far cry from the melting sweltering pressure cooker that is the Philippines. Being near the beach, having a relentless breeze wash over you, cleansing you of any need for A/C, smelling the beautiful salty air of the nearby sea... It's just a great, refreshing feeling.

These past few days I've been here with my aunt and uncle and my two young cousins. We've been visiting the various theme parks that the Gold Coast is known for, although we're avoiding the Wet n Wild waterpark. Good thing too, every so often during the day it'll rain cats and dogs, letting up briefly to let the sun say hello. Let's get a quick rundown of these parks:

DreamWorld: Sort of a small Disneyland with its own characters and themes, this place isn't too memorable. I want to write about it, and yet, I can't seem to remember anything notable about it or what rides or attractions we went to. I do know that the sandwich I ate was delicious, and that here in Australia, they charge for the tomato sauce, about 60 cents a pack. It's not exactly ketchup, it has sort of an extra kick.

MovieWorld: Like Universal Studios, except done by Warner Bros. Some great shows like Shrek 4D (the fourth dimension is the feel of the show), a very immersing Batman Adventure ride, a good Police Academy stunt show, a crappy Lethal Weapon rollercoaster, and the amazing Superman Escape: The Ride.

Let's take a moment to describe this marvel of G-force engineering. Most rollercoasters I've been on have a nice long climb toward the first great peak and dive. "Clink clink clink clink clink" it'll go, as it moves its excited/nervous passengers up, up, and up toward the efficient powered-by-gravity drop. It's sort of the part that builds anticipation before one's organs are thrown in all directions and one's mind and body become addled by waves of nausea.

But this is Superman. Superman doesn't slowly push things around. He's buff as a rhino on speed.

The ride starts as you queue up for the MRT, the Metro Rapid Transit. You're one of the many faceless citizens of Metropolis, getting on the train to go to work when... BOOM! SMASH! A gigantic earthquake rocks the city, blocking all hope of escape. We're trapped in the subway! Oh noes!

Hey look, it's Superman! "Folks, there's only one way out of this mess. Don't worry, I'll push you guys out of here... fast."

Yeah, no kidding. You're launched---yes, launched---out of the building, up the peak, then swirled and tossed in all directions, so many delicious G-forces assaulting your very soul. It is a beautiful feeling, none of the silly stomach coming out of mouth kind, but the good thrown about kind. 24 seconds later, the brakes slam and all movement halts as you come to the rest point. The best thing about this park? There's no line. Just get right back in for another dose of rip roaring ridiculousness.

SeaWorld: I love marine life. The dolphin show was good fun, seeing a big fat dugong (sea cow) up close was cool, and being face to face with gigantic rays is always a good time. All I could think about at every giant man-made reef/aquarium/giant water area with fishies was diving in it. ~~Even the one with the gigantic sharks.~~ Especially the one with the gigantic sharks.

Next up, I'm going to Brisbane to hang out with Donna, one of the many people in the hostel I met in Cinque Terre.

You remember Cinque Terre, don't you? Here's a reminder.

G'day mate

2008-03-15T07:52:00.001Z

Off to the land down under.

Walking with my eyes in my hands

2008-03-11T02:24:00.004Z

As you might know, I took a break from the Philippines to see Vietnam and Cambodia around the 9th to the 17th. You also might know (if you read previous entries) I had some issues with traveling and got stuck in Cambodia since they wouldn't let me into Vietnam. At least I still have the photos and good memories, but since I didn't have my camera for the one shot that I wanted to get, I'll just have to describe it to you.

Heading back toward Phnom Phen with a taxi driver that couldn't speak any English (me, being a passenger that could not speak Khmer), we stopped in line with other vehicles getting onto the ferry. Looking outside, you notice what seems like a dense fog, except it only seems to really manifest itself near light and only in this particular area. Looking closer, the fog looks more like it's alive, not flowing as it normally should, but really frothing, almost as if it were shaking, vibrating in anger.

Then you notice that it isn't fog, and that it's hundreds of thousands, millions of tiny flies buzzing madly about the lights. Not merely the few moths or whatnot you'd see circling a lamp, literally a swarm, so thick and so large that if you were to climb up to the bulb, you'd be covered from head to toe in tiny thin buzzing insects.

I really wish I had my camera then.

As for the rest of the areas, I did have my camera with me. Come, walk with me.

Cambodia and Angkor Wat (here for the photo set):

If you go to the Cambodia set, you'll also see the lovely things I got to eat. Unfortunately, the little buggers gave me a crazy allergic reaction the few days I got back to Philippines, but at least I got to try them. It's so sad to be allergic to... um... food.

Vietnam (here for the photo set):

In the blink of an eye

2008-03-04T15:06:00.005Z

Finally, the photographs from the Philippines are now up. Check out where my eye has been, island hopping through Zamboanga, Dumagete, Apo Island, Cebu, Bohol, Bacolod, Iloilo and Boracay Island.

All men are drawn to the sea, perilous though it may be

2008-03-03T16:02:00.015Z

Waking up before the sun rises at around 4:15 am, I get dressed, pack my stuff and head out to ScubaBoy, a small dive shop in Bicutan, a small city a little bit outside of Manila. Getting there over an hour early (apparently there's no traffic this early in the morning) I just chill and take a nap in the car. Soon after, I meet up with Robert, and soon enough Mark and his wife, Mel arrive with their son Andre. After chilling for a while, munching on some pan de sal to quell my growing hunger, the last few people arrive (Ices, Rania and Marlon) and then we took off to Anilao in the Batangas region.

Two hours of wonderful sleep in the car later, we are parked at a small lot somewhere nearby the water. The bunch of us take our gear and spread it between two small boats called bangka (pump boats) and we take off to the sea, leaving the shore and civilization behind. Not more than half an hour later, after passing beautiful sandy beaches topped with green palms and covered by blue skies, we dock at a small resort area, take our stuff off the boats, put it up in the room and grab some delicious food.

After a short briefing with Mark, the other student (Rhea) and I head up to put on our gear and prepare for the unknown.

Tank, check.
BCD, check.
Regulator, 1st and 2nd stages, check.

Walking out to the water and practically looking like a ninja, I don my fins and mask, and step into the deep blue.

Remember the last time I talked about seeing the underwater beauty floating at the surface in Apo Island? How beautiful it was to float on top of the world submerged, viewing life at a distance.

Time to get in life's face.

I strap on all the gear and step out into the water... :sploosh: Checking my buddy over and vice versa, Mark tells us that when we're ready, deflate and descend. Strapping the regulator into my mouth and hitting the deflator on my BCD, I slowly submerge and the surface fades away from view.

Wow.

Right. This is Rhea, my diving buddy and the other student doing the checkout dive with us. I would say something more about her here, possibly about her ridiculous pose in the shot but she already thinks I make fun of her enough as it is.

Getting down to the bottom, we stop to perform some exercises. Then a whole school of zebra like fish come by to check out what we're doing.

Yeah, it's pretty damn cool down here.

After the exercises finish, it's when the fun dive begins. We head out following the leader and stick close to our buddy in case of emergencies.

Corals, corals, corals. So many wild, strange, alien looking life-forms. Gigantic beasts of corals that look like huge planters... or tubas.

Fields and fields of beautifully feathery/leafy life, the many tentacled anemones waving with the currents, the clownfish and pufferfish hiding in the protection of the anemones... Once in a while, a blueish brown dog faced puffer will appear, and Mark will attempt to catch it, dutifully ignoring the badge Project AWARE gave him for participating in taking care of the environment. *ahem*

Rarest of all but wonderful to see, giant sea turtles fade in from the distance.

Something that looks like a beautiful purple fern appears. Everyone points at it and gives the signal for danger. Fire coral -- apparently if you touch it, welts will be on your skin for at least 2 months before they vanish. (Ices got hit bad with some all across her arm... now she has a bandage around it so she doesn't scare little children)

Beautiful, isn't it?

What's amazing is just the feeling of freedom you get when you're coasting through the water. As you look around, you see the surface far above with the bright sunlight fighting to break through the water, the seafloor below covered in an endless variety of colorful and beautiful almost alien-like life, and the limitless wonders hidden by the deep blue surrounding you on all sides... it really makes you imagine how expansive and wide open the world is and how much there is to explore in these depths. All the fish are but underwater birds, flying and floating around me, and I happen to be joining them in their underwater dance. Having the freedom to travel in any of six degrees, swimming ability permitting, is extremely liberating yet eerily frightening at the same time.

I just stepped into a new world... and I don't want to stop exploring.

I can't wait to go again.

Till next time.

For all those crazy divers that went with us:

Bell - The underwater David Blaine, master SCUBA instructor and all around underwater encyclopedia and cool guy. He did the best card trick I have EVER seen. It even freaking involved fire. FIRE!

Ices - Thank you for taking my mispronunciation of 'bulalo' to new heights and extremes. Now I will never forget you whenever I want to eat some BLALO.

Rustly - For looking like the fiercest underwater ninja I have ever seen. Thanks for the last dive's briefing and for coordinating everything and making sure we were safe. Although next time (this also goes for Mark) please don't ask me if I'm OK every 30 seconds. I'm trying to enjoy watching corals and things =)

Marlon - Thanks for being a part of the coolest underwater photo of the trip. I promise to Photoshop you out and put myself in, thereby making myself part of the coolest underwater photo of the trip.

Rania - Thanks for trying to scare Rhea and I during the final. And for having the hardest name to remember for some reason.

Robert - Thanks for sharing your war stories in the states and for being a spectacular underwater photographer, despite having more photos of everyone else instead of me. And for being a great assistant to Mark and helping us out. Your lens rocks!

Rhea - Thanks for being my SCUBA buddy and putting up with me. And for being the blunt of 99% of all my jokes on the trip. I can't believe I got you that coffee. It's probably why you're the blunt of all my jokes.

Melani - Thanks for helping out with the dives and for being a ham on camera (both above and under the water). And for drinking lots of vodka and keeping me out of the hospital.

Mark - Thanks for being a great SCUBA instructor and for taking the time to make sure I understand each and every skill in the water. See you on Saturday foo, let's rock the Advanced Open Water course.

Extras: Here's Rhea's take on the dive experience. It was actually her 6th birthday (leap year baby).

Special Message to Mark: Also, thanks for being the laziest SCUBA instructor I will probably see in my life. You should be thankful that I'm resourceful, I can pay attention, and follow directions to the letter, otherwise we probably would never have finished this. Ya lazy bastard. :)

Saying goodbye and returning to Manila

2008-03-03T15:46:00.002Z

A-ko passed away around 8:45 pm on Feb. 9th.

The week after, memorial services were held every night to celebrate her life and bring together family, friends, and people from all over the city. I might have said it already, but despite being a time of sadness, it's also a time of celebration, to celebrate her leaving her suffering worldly body and going to a place of peace. Also, being able to meet so many family members (many which I had only seen when I was a little kid, some that I have not seen before) was delightful.

And I can't ever say anything bad about how much I get to eat.

On Thursday, Feb. 14th (Valentine's), A-ko's funeral service and burial was held. Traditional Chinese burial has the family members wearing all white. We all look like an army of hospital nurses, walking down the street. The coffin is placed in a car, and long stretches of white cloth are strung from the back of the car, a hundred or so yards behind. The family members walk behind the car, the ones closest to the deceased in the front, and the rest of us holding on to the cloth, as we march toward the church.

It's quite an experience.

A beautiful service was held for A-ko, with many family members talking about her life, and my Sa-ko giving a beautiful eulogy. We played the slideshow that we worked on the day before to celebrate her life and show some of the great old photos of her. I love old photos; I found some of my dad and my uncles, photos that had to be over 30 years old.

You can view the slideshow here.

Afterwards, we got into buses and headed to the cemetery where A-ko would be buried. Normally we would continue the walk from the church to the cemetery, but it's really really far to walk.

After one more prayer service at the cemetery and family plot, we all drop one white flower onto the coffin as our final goodbye before it is covered.

If I ever get un-lazy and get down to working on photos, I'd be able to put some of them up here.

On Feb. 20th, I returned with my Sa-ko back to Manila. Back to my home away from home.

Spread your wings and fly

2008-02-09T13:13:00.000Z

Finally released from her worldly form, my A-ko can finally enjoy the rest she has been seeking.

Rest in peace, and farewell. You will be missed, by many.

Dying is the day worth living for.

Time

2008-02-04T13:55:00.001Z

The time is nigh.

Stairway to Heaven

2008-02-01T06:33:00.000Z

I am back in Zamboanga, a city in the southern region of the Philippines known as Mindanao. This is where I was earlier at the start of my island hopping where I visited family on my dad's side.

I have returned because my aunt is dying.

My aunt, the eldest sibling of my dad's, had gone to visit family in the states last year around October, about when I was walking through France, getting snubbed by the locals. Developing a difficulty breathing, she soon returned home to get examined by a doctor. They discovered fluid in the lungs and a tumor. Diagnosis: lung cancer. Discovering this at such ao advanced stage of the disease's progression in addition to her being at such a late stage in her life means many, many prayers and family members from all over the world gathering to see her before her time comes. She has no history of smoking or any problems witi her lungs that I'm aware of. Guess that's how life is sometimes.

After arriving at the airport, I immediately went to see her at the hospital (after a quick shower to keep myself as germ free as possible). She was really disoriented and unable to respond to questions coherently. My niece Corrine (older than me) let of know that she was recovering from a semi botched procedure involving a too-weak-to-work treatment that worsened her condition temporarily. A set of IV's, lots of pure oxygen and a few hours let her body process some of the medication used to sedate her and she was able to speak to everyone again. Well, technically everyone except for me. My inability to hear soft spoken people coupled with the complete lack of Chinese-speaking at home has made me essentially retarded when it comes to communication with the old tongue. The family members translate what she is saying to english, then throw in a joke or two at my expense about how I'm Chinese dumb. Feelin' the love, guys. Her condition has been up and down the part few days. Sometimes she'll have gotten a decent amount of rest and she'll be very cycle and talkative, other times she will look as he she is struggling for her life. I pray that she will have enough time to see the family members that are coming, but in the end, I hope that she won't have to suffer for long. She understands that her time on earth is short. Let it be peaceful, for everyone.

I'm amazed at how much family I have out here. My aunt is the eldest of eight siblings, my dad being the youngest (and if you know how old he is, you can see that my aunt has lived to a ripe old age). My aunt has had 7 (8?) children. I forget how many exactly but I know that the kids are named in alphabetical order, and I remember them going at least up to H. Add to that the legions of (my) nieces, nephews and grandnieces/grandnephews and you have a lot of family visiting her, from all over the world. I can't help but think about how it must make her feel to see all this family that has come to see her off. I hope things are not too noisy for her; when the head count goes over ten, it can get a bit hectic. On one hand, it is a treat. We get to talk and share in memories, as wall as pray together for strength and for my aunt's acceptance into the great beyond. On the other hand, it makes me think about my parents when their time comes. They only have me, after all. It's going to be pretty lonely wherever we are at. =/ When that time comes, it unfortunately only gets lonelier.

Please, God, let there not be more suffering than is necessary, both for her sake and the sake of the family. Give us all strength, to fight, to comfort one another, to pray, to last.

Let her go in peace.

Blessings in disguise

2008-01-18T04:40:00.000Z

Went back to Vietnam the same day as getting the visa. Vietnam airlines, by the way, is totally awesome. Why?

Because they still use passenger planes with freaking propellers.

Taking off on that thing is great, you get to hear the BWAAAAAARRRRHHHHHHHHH of the propellers going nuts. Landing is... kind of insane. Basically, it seems like there aren't any airbrakes because of the propellers, so you don't get the slowing action of the ubiquitous jet propelled commercial airliners when you land.

Tiny plane + propellers + full speed landing = Fucking awesome.

Think of a landing where the plane slams into the ground, bounces, lands on one wheel, and proceeds to fishtail/roll a little to the left and right for a while before straigtening out. Meanwhile, the people inside are shook left and right. You always know it's a good landing when you and the person sitting next to you are laughing, or people on the plane begin to clap.

Got to spend more time with Jenni and Kim. Met up with them after dinner and went to a chillin bar/pub. I've never seen so many tourists in one area, but apparently it's Vietnam's backpacker district so it makes sense. There's always this little cute Vietnamese kid there that busts out tons of dance moves! The patrons there love him. We went upstairs after a while and had a great time dancing. There was this older Vietnamese woman that was getting tossed around by a black dude, and another Vietnamese chick that had some killer abs that possibly made Kim and Jenni a tad jealous. We left around 2.

Next morning, I went with Kim to an orphanage in district 3 where I helped care for and feed some of the wee babies there. One of the babies I was playing with was so awesome. While on her stomach, she loved to stare at the ground and lift up her hands and legs so only her tummy touched the ground. She'll make a great skydiver some day. Babies are scary to hold. They get squirmy sometimes, and I'm always afraid that they'll squirm out of my arms.

We headed back, caught some lunch at a place recommended by one of the other volunteers, and then headed back to pick up some of Kim's stuff and get my money changed. One of Jenni's friends in Vietnam was hosting a barbecue at his studio nearby Cu Chi tunnels, out in the middle of nowhere. I caught a bit of a bug somewhere in between Cambodia and Vietnam so I couldn't drink too much (not that I can drink that much anyway) but it was fine. I was still feeling a bit woozy, so I got up to take a walk. Kim invitered herself along (my bad dood) and we spent a lot of the night chatting.

So I ended up paying more for everything because of the delay in getting back to my scheduled flight to Manila, but I wouldn't have done it any other way. It's one of those things that turned out to be a blessing, and I'm totally glad things happened that way.

Now back in Manila.

Fighting for change

2008-01-15T05:29:00.000Z

After reviewing various options online and comparing them with the options that the nice concierge girl gave me, and trying desperately to make all the ends meet up and make sure all my bases are covered, I've settled on getting the Vietnamese VISA, flying back to Ho Chi Minh tonight, changing my PAL flight to Jan 17th (it's valid until then) and staying an extra day in Vietnam. This lets me hang out a bit longer in Vietnam with Jenni and Kim, lets me have a "friendly chat" with the tour agency that handed me the shaft, and it's cheaper than the alternative (flying out of Phnom Phen to Manila).

Back to Vietnam tonight. Hope they let me in this time.

By the way, Phnom Phen has the best internet rates. 50 cents USD for an hour, plus their computer doesn't have any restrictions. I upgraded their Skype and gave them some Firefox and Opera love.

Access Denied

2008-01-14T15:27:00.000Z

I was denied a visa for Vietnam going back the 2nd time. After visiting Ankor Wat in Siem Reap (will post about that later) I took a bus back to Vietnam and was given the news that I would not be able to enter Vietnam and would have to go back to Cambodia. Right now, I'm in Phnom Phen and will fly out of here to Manila sometime tomorrow. I'm right across from the American Embassy, so if shit hits the fan, I'm sure I'll be able to make it over there with some appendages intact.

On the good news, I got to see these crazy Cambodian flies swarm street lights on the way back to Phenom Phen. There were SO many of them, it looked like snow that would not fall to the ground, just swirling all around the lights, the cars, the people. The only crappy part is when they land on you. After brushing them off for the umpteenth time, it gets annoying.

Let's have a round of thanks!

Thanks to Jenni for helping my cousins and I arrive safely in Ho Chi Minh and find a cheap, good hotel. And also for pointing us to the most awesome Vietnamese restaurant ever.

Thanks to Jenni's friends (like Zoe and so many other cool people whose names I can't remember, as usual) for helping me get back to the hotel when I didn't have any money or clue where I was in Ho Chi Minh.

Thanks to the people at Cu Chi Tunnels for letting me shoot at wooden animal targets with everyone's favorite terrorist and 3rd world country assault rifle, the awesome Kalashnikov model automatic rifle of 1947, more affectionately known to the world as the AK-47. BTW, if you go there and shoot, bring your own ear protection. Closed ear headphones are NOT sufficient, you crazyass Vietnamese soldiers! Thanks for being cool anyway.

Thanks to the people at Rainbow Adventure for making this event entirely possible. Without you guys, I wouldn't be stuck in Cambodia wishing evil bastardly things on you. When I come back, I promise to slap you all upside the head.

With my elbows.

And finally, thanks to Kim for being awesome company. Makes me glad I went to Vietnam.

Take me to your phở

2008-01-08T14:52:00.000Z

Off to Vietnam tomorrow.

Back to Manila on the 15th. See ya'll later.

Boom boom boom boom

2007-12-31T17:45:00.000Z

Manigong Bagong Taon! Happy New Year!

Back in the states, as the new year rolls around, people celebrate by pouring lots of champagne, following it with a synchronized countdown, and then bursting into a riot of cheering, drinking, and kissing.

Here in the Philippines, people celebrate by blowing shit up.

It's like a war zone out here, only people don't die (they just lose some fingers or set nearby things on fire). Explosions are heard round the clock, getting especially feverish when the new year rolls around. My cousins, earlier in the day, bought a bunch of fireworks and had them out at around 11 pm. They took me out to the street, set some kind of gigantic box in the middle, gave me an ember on a long metal stick, and told me it's time I experience the Filipino style celebration. Go, and light it.

Once I see the fuse catch, turn around and run.

Uh, thanks guys.

I'm struggling to find the fuse since it's dark and it's hard to hold a long stick steady. I'm afraid I'll light the inner fuse and get to feel what it's like to vaporize. Soon enough, the fuse catches. I turn around, and before I take two steps

BOOM!

It launches a searingly white ember into the sky which explodes into a dazzling sphere of colors. Like the kind at Disneyland, or any other fireworks extravaganza. Back in Cerritos, the kind that gets you sent to jail for thinking about lighting one. Here though, every neighbor has their own set of aerial light bombs, the richer ones launching barrages that would rival California theme parks.

It's a beautiful place to be when the new year rolls around, to celebrate it with a bang.

Maligayang Pasko!!!! Merry Christmas from the Philippines!

2007-12-27T18:45:00.000Z

Maligayang Pasko!!!! Merry Christmas from the Philippines!

Spent pre-Christmas Eve (23rd) at a company party with family (my family in Iloilo owns like 12 companies) with 500 other people, drinking, dancing, being a bad influence to my cousins/nephews by passing them alcohol (that my cousin passed to me first.... so technically I would like to point out that she's the bad one) and watching my very drunken oldest cousin try to "kai shao" (introduce) various ladies to me throughout the night by pulling random ones to where I was dancing, which was quite enjoyable and hilarious at the same time. He could barely talk. It was soooo amusing. They had company singing and dance contests, and I enjoyed watching (as the night went on) deliriously drunken people just slide their way into the dance floor while other contestants were trying to compete.

Spent a nice quiet Christmas night with family eating some fresh seafood nearby the SM Mall of Asia and watching the fireworks by the sea, swiggin' my beer and not feeling buzzed. That is absolutely a first for me! Woo!

I hope your guys's Christmas was enjoyable, that you got as drunk as you wanted to, and shared some good times with family and friends. If you haven't had your party yet, then I hope you have a blast.

Miss you guys. Have a beer/shot/bottle for me! See y'all in 2008.

By the way, like I said before, I've been eating like a hurricane, sucking up everything in my path. It's all like, 5 to 12 course meals out here, seafood to the limit, lechon, crispy pata, pansit, pinakbet, like 800 types of fish, mussels, clams, torta, prawns, crabs, mango shakes, chicken inasal, beer, and tons of rice. I even eat breakfast out here. I never eat breakfast. Longinisa sausage, bangus, eggs, rice and some tea (or a mango shake). Then a 5 course meal lunch, and a nap.

I haven't gained any weight. My cousin gained 18 pounds though. Hahaha!

My one great vacation

2007-12-16T02:19:00.001Z

Newly unemployed, I found this kind of life refreshing. No more commuting to work on jam-packed subways, no more meetings with people I didn't want to meet. And best of all, I could read any book I wanted, anytime I wanted. I had no idea how long this relaxed lifestyle would continue, but at that point, at least, after a week, I was enjoying it, and I tried hard not to think about the future. This was my one great vacation in life. It would have to end sometime, but until it did I was determined to enjoy it.

I love Haruki Murakami.

Under the Sea

2007-12-12T20:42:00.000Z

Woke up early in the morning to head to the southern area of Dumagete to take a pump boat (a small 5 passenger boat with a tiny engine) to Apo Island, a local island about half an hour to 45 minutes away. Hilton tells me it's a marine sanctuary and that you can go snorkeling and see lots of coral and stuff. Well, Santa Cruz was sort of a wash, it can only get better, right?

After paying the fare (1500 pesos) we took off in this tiny pump boat toward the far island of Apo. During December, the winds are pretty strong and the ocean's quite turbulent. Small boat plus big waves = big fun! Up a wave, then down the wave, part of the boat crashes into the water... and we get soaked. I usually get sick on boat rides, but something about how large the motions were just made it feel like a rollercoaster. It was pretty thrilling.

Half an hour or so later, we are close to the island. It pretty much looks like a tropical paradise: the water is clear and a bright blue, the sands are white, you see a private resort area with two tiny cottages off to the side, and a few other pump boats parked on the beach. The cliffs are high and covered in lush green vegetation, the sky is a sherbet of cloud and sky, the palm trees wave to us as if in welcome; yes, it's kind of like a paradise. A really cheap, beautiful paradise. It cost us 100 pesos per person to be on the isle and another 50 pesos to snorkel (about $3 total). We got three snorkel goggles and tubes for 100 pesos each.

We head into the isle itself, passing a lot of cottages and huts. The island town! Very cozy, rustic cottages all over, people and kids walking about, and the occasional sleeping dog and pink fuzzy pig snoring and oinking about. Apo Island is shaped like a giant ring; there's some kind of giant marsh in the center of the island that is disconnected from the ocean. It's got tons of fish inside and a lot of the trees with high roots that you'd imagine to be on the banks of rivers in Africa. Going around that, we arrive at the rear of the island where the actual marine sanctuary is located. There are no boats on this side because it's protected, just sand, lots of coral, the ocean and the sky. Putting on the goggles and gear, we head into the ocean at an area to the far left where the coral is less rocky and the deeper areas are easily accessible. The captain of the ship came with us to guide us through the water and point us to some cool things to see. What a chill guy.

I wade into the water, get a bit further into the water until the water hits my navel and stick my head down. What do I see?

A freaking underwater paradise. Hanauma Bay (Hawaii) be damned, this place is easily ten thousand times better. I thought the part of the island above water was gorgeous, underneath is absolutely, almost inconceivably breathtaking.

Corals of all shapes, sizes, colors. Purple, shaped like a small stout tree with fat branches and twigs and no leaves. Orange colored coral that waved with the currents. Giant dark blue coral that looked like a fat and humongously wide mushroom. Everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Fish colored like yellow and black zebras, bright blue/green/orange fish, barracuda. Not just a few scattered here and there. Hundreds. Big ones, small ones. There was this long yellow one that looked kind of scary, so I tried to stay a pretty far distance. I swam out further just marveling at my surroundings. The water is so clear, the colors are so vivid. God DAMN I wish I had an underwater camera. I should be thankful I didn't, I might have dropped it and I wouldn't have been able to just float there, soaking up the beauty of it all.

Pushing out away from the island, I reach an area where the coral and sea bottom sort of just... fade into the blue. I basically got to the point where the sea floor deepened beyond visibility from where I was at the surface. Ooooh, how freaky. I spent a while marveling at the deep blue depths, floating there at the surface, completely relaxed, and then turned around to see... a big silvery glistening cloud... thing. I get closer and it's...

A huge school of fish. Hell, school be damned, these guys graduated. These fish are ginormous, it's a fuckin fish university out here! There's at least a hundred of them, swimming slowly, moving around in circles and waves. I swam closer and closer and... they don't swim away! No fear! They slowly glided from my right to my left, then slowly turned and circled around under me. I was surrounded by hundreds of giant fish! Amaaaaaaazing. I just wanted to grab one and bite into it. They must taste like awesome.

After swimming with them, we headed out because the captain mentioned something about sea turtles. Swimming towards a different area of the beach, I learned why there's a special entrance area on the other side. Walking on coral is nigh impossible with the sea currents shoving me around. I totally ate it trying to get out of there, gashing my knee into some beautiful purple coral, staining it a brilliant red. I've never had blood running down my leg before, but I have to say it looks pretty damn cool.

Heading back to the front of the island, we do the same routine and get out to the sea. Not more than three minutes later, the captain points at a direction and we head toward it to find a sea turtle! It was a little guy, about one and a half feet from rear fin to head. It slid through the water with such grace, the simplest motions with its fins propelling it forward without effort. Such a beautiful creature. It took off and I could not watch it for long, so I continued heading out toward the deep end. Not too many fish on this side, not too much coral either, though I did see a lot of sea cucumbers, spiky sea slugs, and a couple of deep blue colored starfish.

I push on further and notice a giant sea turtle just a few feet away from me. I froze, just staring at it. It wasn't moving, just floating in a small clearing surrounded by coral and poked its head up to stare back. We stayed like that for a few moments, me floating completely relaxed, pushed and pulled by the ebb and flow of the water, and it, frozen in its spot. After a while, it began to glide away and I followed it the best I could, watching it float through the water and head past groups of fish toward the deep.

Take your next vacation to Apo Island next to Dumagete in the Visaya area of the Philippines. With such bang for your... peso, you absolutely just can't lose.

Ancient History 2, Ancient Historier

2007-12-11T22:15:00.000Z

Dipolog is a town that sort of has nothing remarkable so I won't spend too much time talking about it, except that it has some 3003 steps to a special viewpoint where you can see the city and surrounding cities. Unfortunately, since Pastor Mariano, the old man that we're traveling with seems more talk than walk, we only got to the 7th station (out of 13, probably about half of the steps).

By the way dad, Mariano says Hi.

We left Dipolog and headed to Dumagete on a ferry boat. It's one of the speedy kinds which will reach Dumagete in 2 hours instead of 5, which is great for me because I don't exactly have the strongest aptitude for ocean voyages. I think the last time I remember being on a boat was with Tan, Ryan V, Cianar and Brenda. We were out in the Long Beach waters, doing some deep sea night fishing. I remember Tan and I, in the midst of being awesome fishermen and catching everything under the sea (I even caught the same fish that Cianar tossed back into the ocean), spent most of our time on our knees, breathing hard and doing everything humanly possible to avoid vomiting on our toes.

Back on the ferry boat, even before it left the harbor, I was already feeling a bit woozy. The winds today are quite... strong, meaning there's bound to be some big ocean waves. It's not exactly a huge ferry, it probably carries 400 people at max, so those waves can be really felt. I have but one trick up my sleeve for this kind of thing: iPod in pocket, Fontopia in-ear phones closing off the outside world, volume up, head down, relaxed body. I'm not sure exactly how it works, but I think it cushions the movements of the parts that control balance in my head, lessening the feelings of nausea enough so I can pass out and avoid the ocean waves' deadly effects.

Arriving at Dumagete, we're picked up by my Auntie Sandra. Of course, being me, I could not remember where or when I had met her. She reminded me that she came by one time in like 2002 while I was still in college, and I came home late and was mad that she took my room to sleep in, meaning I was stuck with my dad who can sleep through a hurricane and snore like a typhoon.

Haha oh man, embarrassing recognition nod. Yes, I do remember meeting her then. Heeee....

We're taken to their bake shop, the Mandarin Caterers and Bake Shop. In Dumagete, there are tons of bake shops everywhere. It's sort of their thing, since apparently it's quite profitable and there's always room for more. On the first floor, the bake shop is comprised of the store area, the garage, and the awesome kitchen area, which still holds a very very old brick oven, an ancient type of oven that uses wood, fire and special bricks to heat and bake bread. Very old method of cooking, very hard to control. They also make sio pao (cha siu bao), which to their credit, are possibly the best tasting. Evar. The fluffiest bread, the tenderest chicken and pork meat, and hard boiled eggs chopped up into a delicious bun. Eggs make just about anything better.

The rest of the floors above the bottom floor is the house. This is the house where my mother grew up and studied while in Dumagete, and also where my Ama lived, the grandmother that took care of me when I was a baby, I think from age 1 to 2. She passed away in 2002 at the age of 91. I met my Uncle Charles and his wife, and Uncle Jerry, the younger brother here. I also met my Akim, the wife of my mom's older brother (aunt in-law). She very recently suffered through a mild stroke and lost the ability to control the left side of her body (arm and leg are numb) and she left for the hospital the day after I met her. To think she just stayed at the house a day or two without going to the hospital immediately... guess they do things differently out here.

We ate dinner at the house, meeting even more friends of my mom's (Rose says Hi mom), all of which agree with me that my mom is quite the motormouth. My auntie Maryanne is called twa bac (big eyes) because she has relatively big bright eyes, so when I was younger, I named my mom twa chui (big mouth). My relatives all got a kick out of that! While I was there, I even met like, 8 or so nieces and nephews. Which meant I gave them each ang pao, and really begin to appreciate my aunts and uncles who did the same for me when I was a kid.

Man, I'm such a cheap bastard.

*pause for a moment* Thank you to all my aunts and uncles and others who gave me ang pao over all those years. You guys are truly, truly awesome =*)

The day after, my Uncle Charles took us to the cemetery where my Ama and the grandfather on my mom's side were buried. Like my grandparents and family from my father's side, they too fled China to settle in the Philippines, except they settled in Dumagete rather than Zamboanga. My Ama outlived my Angkong (grandfather) by decades, he passed away very young. We spent some time there at their graves, the both of them reminiscing about the family. It is then that my Uncle Charles and Hilton began to reveal certain aspects of the family bloodline, details which differ from what I originally believed, creating changes in my mental family tree. It's a lot more complicated than what I had originally thought. Mostly because I have like 200 aunts and uncles and apparently 8 million cousins, nephews and nieces. I exaggerate, of course, but it feels that way sometimes.

Tomorrow, we plan to head out to Apo Island.

Behind the name

2007-12-11T20:45:00.001Z

By the way, last time I started to tell you about Chinese naming and mentioned the meanings of names. So let's go over what we know about Chinese naming so far:

1. Each name has three characters, starting last name first.
2. For some reason, my Angkong on my father's side has a table where each of us is named a certain way for our first name. For my generation, that character is 仁, pronounced 'rén' in Mandarin.
3. Each person is given a name which embodies a sort of positive, good meaning, that will be bestowed upon the child. Well, I'd hope it's a good meaning. You don't want to name your child something like lollygagging numbskull.

Now, let's go over the meaning.

My name in Chinese, given to me by my parents and my Angkong, is 林仁義.
The pronunciation is lín rén yì.

The individual meanings are 林-woods/forest, 仁-benevolence, 義-righteousness

Hell to the yes.

Ancient History

2007-12-09T20:17:00.001Z

Zamboanga City. A hot, blisteringly humid, yet generally sleepy town in the south of the Philippines.

This is where it all begins.

My grandfather and grandmother settled here in Zamboanga having come from the 福建 (Fukkien/Fujian) province of China. They had 8 children, the last of which is my dad, born 林少鵬 (Lim Shao Peng), in 1939. When World War II broke out, apparently the Japanese were searching for my grandfather because he was a Kuomingtang operative for this southern part of the Philippines. They even put a huge reward on his head for it. Grandmother fled with the kiddies, going into hiding in another small town in the outskirts called Ipil. Everyone survived the war, returning to Zamboanga with nary a scratch.

Right now, I'm here at 22 Sevilla St., Zamboanga City. The very house where my grandfather and grandmother lived with their 8 children. I recently visited my dad's high school (Chong Hua Chinese School) and met a couple of his classmates and friends that knew him. There's even a room dedicated to my grandfather at the school. The town is quite small, so it turns out lots of people outside of our family know my dad. I'm always introduced as 少鵬's son, and usually people will light up with recognition. It's kind of cool to be in this house. Lots of memorabilia is hidden here, like my dad's graduation yearbook, class of 1962, some old photos with him and his brothers, and another graduation photo for the class of 1963 where he received his second degree. After graduating Chong Hua here in Zamboanga, he left to attend MIT and graduate with Electrical Engineering and Mechanical Engineering degrees. That's Mapua Institute of Technology in Manila, hee. His graduation photo looks weird to me, mostly because I've never seen my dad look... young. I've pretty much always known him as, well, an old man. Young at heart! My auntie showed me another photo of him and Sah Peh (Hilton's dad) when they were younger.

He's the guy on the right. Look at those glasses!

After spending a few days here, I've met quite a lot of people. Hilton, my cousin traveling with me (he likes to call himself my tour guide... which is totally true because that's essentially what he's doing) has been diligently contacting our relatives in the area and bringing us to eat with them. I'm staying with Hilton's mom and younger brother Anson, both of whom I saw while traveling in Japan two years ago. I also met Hilton's brother Paul, his wife Natalie and their kiddies KimKim, Nika, TaunTaun and Aaron. I've met their dogs too, one of which is white and poofy and so adorable. We've gone by to their house to eat lunch a few times. One thing I definitely love about the Philippines is how people eat. Usually the families are bigger than in the states, so they cook a lot of food. There are like 8 dishes laid out on the Lazy Susan, and if you know me, I take every opportunity to seriously gorge myself. We usually head back home to rest during the early afternoon since it's too blisteringly hot to do anything. Inevitably, a gargantuan food coma magically appears to thoroughly lay waste to all conscious thought, sending me into the unhealthiest 3+ hour nap, prompting my body to convert all the food I just ate into quite possibly the beginning of my late life Asian gut.

Hilton also took me to the the Top Taste Bakery, the owner of which knew my dad (his son is Hilton's friend). I even met my niece Corinne who teaches English at Chong Hua. She's older than I am by a few years. Isn't it strange how family works that way? I later met her brother Mikey who runs the Mr. Bean coffeeshop. I gave them ang pao (red envelope) earlier today, saying that it was technically because I'm their uncle, and Corinne jokingly gave me some flak about setting up the lines of respect and boundaries or something. Haha, my family is awesome! Today I gave Paul and Natalie's kids ang pao. Since they don't work, they got more than Corinne and Mikey, hee.

Other things I did: Went snorkling at the islands of Santa Cruz. Unfortunately, a typhoon hit this part of the Philippines a week before we arrived, which I think took out a lot of the marine life in the area. Despite this, I did manage to see a bunch of fish including a big puffer, lots of sea anemones (with accompanying clown fish!), lots and lots of sea urchins, a couple of hermit crabs, some deep blue starfish, and a sea snail. I grabbed the snail off a rock and, after fighting the ridiculously strong current, managed to get the hermit crab to move to shallow enough water to catch it. We dropped them off at Paul's saltwater aquarium. Now there's two hermit crabs and two sea snails (one of which was a big one that Hilton caught). Swimming in the ocean in this area is interesting, mostly because while I was paddling around like an idiot, I kept feeling stinging on various parts of my skin. It turns out there's some very tiny jellyfish in the water. It doesn't sting as bad as Monica from Friends makes it out to be, mostly because these jellyfish are like, microscopic, and because I bet Hilton managed to get the brunt of their poisonous attack (he was the first one to swim around). For me, it felt like an annoying sting that would last for 10-15 minutes.

Visiting my grandfather and grandmother's grave. The burial site makes it appear as if they are buried above ground since there are visible tombs with their names. On my grandfather's grave, it lists the names of all the children. All the sons are named with Shao (少) as first name, and all the daughters with Soh. For our generation, our first names are Ren (仁). In traditional Chinese style, each individual gets three names/characters, the last name and two given names. These names are chosen to try and reflect attributable qualities that the parents want to have bestowed to the child.

For example, my name is 林仁義, following the last name first style and also the generation naming.
Pronunciation: lín rén yì

Any guesses as to what my name's meaning is? I'll give you a starter: 林 means forest.

So, apparently I've run into an interesting dilemma with regards to how I'm going to stay in the Philippines for a long while. The Visa I acquired upon landing gives me at maximum 21 days to spend in the Philippines, but the plan was to stay longer than that. I also had to show that I had an exit ticket before I could check in, which I got by purchasing a fully refundable biz class (which I've already got my refund for, tee hee). Apparently, we're all not certain how I'm going to get the Visa extension, so one of my uncles kept joking that he would see me in jail. He knows of a way to handle this issue though, so he'll take my passport in the meanwhile and... handle it.

Tomorrow I leave for Dipolog, which is a city on the way to Dumagete. I go there to visit my grandma on my mothers side, the one who took care of me when I was a wee baby.

Till next time I find some time and internet access, peace out.

Fatty McFatty

2007-12-03T15:56:00.000Z

I'm eating a lot in the Philippines, and not walking around much. I'm going to be a fatty.

On good news, I bought some sandals that totally rock. They're so comfortable, and totally work with the fob style (read: socks + sandals) that I love doing. Even though they cost way more than I wanted to spend (about $30 since I saw sandals of the same style that cost $5) I'm so glad I bought these just because they're both comfy and look better than the others, w00t!

While I'm staying with my aunt, the one with nannies (one for each kid), maids to clean and do laundry, a driver and a cook, I basically eat like I'm at a hotel. Their place LOOKS like a hotel (it was designed by an architect that builds hotels). Big dinner table, Lazy Susan, and usually eight different kinds of dishes for lunch or dinner, usually a dish of fried rice or noodle, and some soup. Oh gawd, I love variety. I just put it all on my plate and gobble it up.

Last night, I ate at this... er, "restaurant." It's in quotes because the place actually doesn't have any food in inventory. You must be asking, "then where does the food come from?"

That's why there's a huge open air market in the plaza. The idea is, you go to the market and buy the fresh food, from fresh oysters, mussels, clams, a range of shrimp sizes (tiny shrimp, regular shrimp, tiger shrimp, jumbo shrimp, and fatty mc fatass ginormous shrimp), possibly twenty different kinds of fish, either whole or cut in all shapes and sizes, a range of squid sizes (small fishing line bait size, regular supermarket size, fatty mc fatass ginormous size, and giant squid so big you don't actually buy the whole squid, you buy it by the area), crabs of all sizes, some kind of sea mantis (it literally looks like a gigantic insect), lobsters, eel... basically a smorgasbord of marine delicacies.

Everything is purchased by weight (each 1/2 kilo). The nice thing is, you can bargain with these people to get the prices lower. Unfortunately, my cousin Hilton has nowhere near the ruthless force of Ling, despite being an accomplished economist. Ling could whittle down a lady selling a bracelet from 80 yuan down to 20 in about 15 seconds, get a Coke for 3 yuan instead of 4 with one sentence (the difference between 54 cents and 41 cents). We could only get minimal discounts, but technically the food is pretty cheap (compared to the states) that it is still good.

You bring the food over to the "restaurant," still alive, moving and kicking around in the plastic bag, and tell the person at the front desk/podium how you want to cook each thing. There's a cooking charge by weight. She takes the bags of freshly squirming dinner, and heads into the kitchen.

We got:
1. A bunch of freshly sliced tuna, sashimi style.
2. Six gigantic shrimp. Biggest shrimp I've ever seen in my life.
3. 12 oysters, probably caught that day.
4. Tuna face, literally. It's like a slice of the tuna's gill and cheek area, mostly bone but also has the delicate cheek meat, which is the best part of the fish. The tuna face is huge, about the size of a big plate.
5. Some kind of seaweed that looks like a bunch of little bulbs on branches (think of kelp, but tiny and green).
6. A giant tiger lobster. Live.

Here's my assessment:

Shrimp: Cooked butterfly style with garlic, onions and chilis. Spicy. AMAZING.

Oysters: Half baked, half steamed. I only ate one baked one because the steamed was half cooked (half raw). When they bake shellfish here, they put cheese on it. It's weird.

Seaweed: Washed, and served raw with diced onions and tomatoes. You drench it with vinegar and eat it as is. Tastes like the sea, literally. It's like swimming in the ocean, then drinking some sea water, just not as gross sounding.

Tuna face: Lots of bone, but once you can dig around in there you get some dark meat and cheek meat. If you haven't eaten the cheek of a fish, grab it next time you're at a Chinese restaurant and the big steamed fish is in front of you. Take it before someone else does, it's the most tender piece of the fish and it's delicious.

Tuna sashimi: Awesome. One pound of it. We couldn't even finish it all.

Tiger lobster: Apparently they cook it with Sprite. The best lobster I've ever had.

San Miguel Lite: Half a bottle and I'm gone. Go tolerance.

Bad luck struck us when we left... Hilton's friend Kenneth had his bag stolen. Missing: Cell phone and charger, 2000 pesos, airline ticket, tissues. The people there didn't want to go to the police station and make a report. They said, just come back tomorrow. According to Hilton, there's an introduction to the everyday people. He was determined so we eventually went to the police station and they made a report. Unfortunately, most likely nothing will be done.

Today, I went to the Lechon City here in Manila. Basically, it's a street where there are only restaurants and sellers of lechon, which is the whole roasted pig that you can get at Filipino restaurants. They all go to a special area where they roast the pigs, turned on a spit over hot coals for an undetermined amount of time (to me) and then it's brought to the restaurants where they rest the poles against the wall of the place, displaying the roasted pigs to the world. We walked around so I could get some photos and then went back to one of the restaurants to have them cut some freshly cooked lechon, some rice, and misc foods. Good tender meat, crispy skin, oh man.

Did I mention I also had lechon the day before at lunch? Stomach flap, here I come.

Tonight, we went to a specific area where there's lots of restaurants that are displaying their food, and you pick and choose the ones that you want. Sticks of barbecued pork, chicken, chicken organs, more lechon, various kinds of fried and steamed fishes, many traditional Filipino dishes (dinuguan, pansit, sinagang, pinakbet, that awesome eggplant stuffed with meat, vegetables, and wrapped in a scrambled egg batter, etc.). We chose 7 dishes, including dinuguan and that stuffed eggplant egg thing, as well as some BBQ pork, some kind of fish with vinegar based sauce and an awesome spicy curry-like dish, and sat down. And two beers.

I should mention what an awesome bargain this is. 650 pesos for the whole dinner (about $15.25 for three of us). The Chinese in me is ecstatic.

I finished my beer today without feeling a buzz. That's odd.

Tomorrow I leave for Zamboanga, the city where my father was born and raised. My dad's been telling me stories for years about how dirty the Philippines are, which has always been what's kept me from coming here all these years. It's pretty evident that he means Zamboanga, so... wish me luck.

Oh yeah, one more thing. Check this girl out. Turns out we met her at a club in Shanghai. She apparently won a beauty pageant competition, and is now a spokesmodel for a Chinese shoe company! She's a pretty cool chica.

Until next time, peace out!

Mabuhay!

2007-11-29T18:51:00.000Z

Manila! Now in the Philippines.

I do wish I was back in China because of the eternal awesomeness that transpired. Thank you, forever, to Wong, Kong, and the DL for such a great trip to a completely foreign world. And for DL for embarrassing Wong and I pretty much everywhere. People would hear him speak Mandarin and they'd ask us, why does the white guy speak such good Mandarin and you two Chinese guys don't?

We'll be back though. We'll be back.

Things I learned after being here in Manila:

1. I do not need any form of jacket, coat, sweater, or anything with long sleeves. It's pretty warm over here (27 deg C, or about 81 deg F, at like 100% humidity). I bought some shorts immediately, and now I need to find some sandals.

2. There is a typhoon blowing over the islands right now. It makes things very humid (sweaty) and also cancels lots of classes for my cousins. My aunt thinks I've brought the typhoon to rain down on them. Fortunately, they're thankful because that means no classes and sleeping in for them! Ha!

3. The air is cleaner than in China, but parts of the city are quite ghetto and dirty.

4. Thievery is really bad here. I've been warned by pretty much everyone not to take my camera around with me to some places that we go to. That means, sadly, there will be less photos this time around, at least while I'm here in Manila.

5. Maids do the work, not me. I can leave the dishes on the table, I don't have to wipe my mess up, I don't have to dig around to find the trash can to throw away my napkin. And the driver (my aunt has a driver) is totally badass on the road. You don't mess with the guy driving a 2 ton ginormous SUV.

6. After working on my photos, I have a lot more from China than I originally thought.

A moment, please

2007-11-26T06:20:00.000Z

Things I have eaten while in China:

Shanghai:
1. Shanghai style dumplings, the kind with the broth and soup still inside. Even some with shark fin in it, ooooh so delicious.
2. Giant dumpling with (mostly) broth. They hand it to you with a straw sticking out of it. Think of the Tropicana orange, except replace the orange with a giant dumpling. You just drink the soupy stuff. Yummy.
3. Lamb on a stick (street vendor). 5 yuan each (about 71 cents). I love lamb on a stick.
4. Pan fried Shanghai dumplings, just like the regular steamed ones but browned/seared on the bottom. Crispy and broth mix together so well. It's freaking hot though, so you have to wait a while before biting into it.
5. Stinky tofu (moldy tofu). It smells horrible, but tastes pretty good.

Suzhou:
6. Turtle. Before and after photos, check.
7. Pork feet. I don't know why I never ate this before, because it is FREAKING DELICIOUS.
8. Various kinds of fishes.
9. Shrimp that was just alive 5 seconds ago.

Hangzhou:
10. I don't know the exact name for it, but I just call it "Dong Po Ro" (always said in English with a thickass Hong Kong accent), basically pork shoulder with a thick layer of fat on top. You bite into it like a layered sandwich, the fat and pork meshing together into an orgy of flavor. Yes, an orgy.

Xi'an:
11. Thousand year old soup. I don't know the real name, but I call it this because we joked that they haven't washed their soup vats in millenia. Hence, the awesome flavor.
12. Some kind of weird berry that looks like dirt on twigs picked up from the ground.

Guilin:
13. Congee of all kinds and flavors. Century egg, whole crab, chicken and corn, leek and muscle (don't know what kind)
14. Snake. Snake is amazing!
15. Goose. Think of a duck, but huge. Same tender and flavorful meat, same deliciously crispy skin, just so much more of it because geese are so much bigger.

Beijing:
16. The best duck in the world (for Thanksgiving!)
17. Duck hearts... are fantastic.
18. Scorpions. Crispy crispy.
19. Ass. Literally, I had an ass-meat sandwich. Tender like slow cooked pork, more flavor than beef, almost as good as Dong Po Ro.
20. Sea cucumber. I've had it before, and once again, unremarkable.

Probably lots of other stuff I ate and forgot. These are the ones that are most memorable.

Tomorrow: To Philippines!

The new title

2007-11-20T03:46:00.000Z

So my buddy Cianar came up with a freaking hilarious title for this trip. I'm traveling with two old high school friends, Stephen and Ling, and well, their last names lend itself so easily to the best trip sub-title ever.

Wong and Kong: Detectives for Hire, Wong and Kong and the Pregnancy of the Century, Wong and Kong Versus Mad General Dark, Wong and Kong's Peruvian Holiday

Wong and Kong in the Circus of Guilty Delights, Wong and Kong Fight Breast Cancer, Wong and Kong Versus Doctor Darkone's Ninja Robots, Wong and Kong and the Mystery of Lee Hester's Missing Testicles, Wong and Kong Join the Fourth Reich, Wong and Kong Bible Adventures...

The list goes on forever!

Down for the count

2007-11-17T10:51:00.000Z

... 8 ... 9 ... 10! *ding ding ding* K.O.!

China's food (or something really bad) has finally taken me down. The little bug is stronger than the French one.

This is the soup that assassinated my bowels.

Living the Shang-high life

2007-11-16T21:07:00.000Z

Shanghai rocks my world. I am living it the f*ck up.

So much so, alas, that I don't have time to write. I'll just have to bring back stories when I see you back home.

Already passed through Suzhou, Hangzhou, and now am in Xi'an.

Hope everyone is well back at home~

Holy Roman Empires, and beyond

2007-11-08T23:59:00.000Z

Walk with me...

After spending what would be possibly the best days of my life hiking, relaxing, chilling in the company of fellow travelers, I headed to Rome.

Rome ain't such a big deal. The Vatican is pretty awesome, but the city of Rome itself, not really too impressed with it. Trevi Fountain was nice, but the rest of it ... eh. Just felt like walking through it, never felt like sticking around to see what we've all seen in photos and postcards all our lives.

I'm back in London now, and this officially ends Europe 2007 for me.

Photos, as always, at the Flickr.

Tomorrow, I begin Asia 2007, starting with China!

After China? The Philippines, and possibly various other South Asian countries.

Ciao!

From dream to reality

2007-11-03T18:06:00.001Z

*Warning* If you see the photos in this post, it may very well ruin this place for you. Might be better to go to the place yourself. Plan your trip for a place called "Cinque Terre", and just go. You won't be disappointed.

You've been warned... Read on for what Cinque Terre is, and some photos of what it looks like.

Ever had an image of something in your mind, an idea of what it would look, feel, taste or smell like before you even came into contact with it? Then, when you're there, next to it, on it, nearby it, or whatever it may be, did it fulfill your expectations, and manage even to exceed them and become something much better, filling you with a kind of happiness, bursting forth as an uncontrollable laughter, creating within you a ceaseless fountain of joy and bliss?

Well, I should start from the beginning.

So I flew out from Amsterdam---which, by the way, is an absolutely magnificent city for its beautiful canal-based architecture, rich history and vibrant art housed in its many museums, unforgettable CouchSurfing people, and for its liberal attitude, which invariably includes the organically grown and the many deliciously baked goods that are created from it---and landed in Milan at about 11 PM because the flight was delayed. The Italian transportation system's penchant for being late will bite me in the ass again later.

Couldn't find a CouchSurfer this time because this weekend is, apparently, a holiday weekend. It's Halloween and All Souls Day (Nov. 1st) so everyone is on leave or hosting friends. Bit worried since I know that it's almost midnight and the metro system is bound to shut down soon, as it does all over Europe. By the time I got to the station where I needed to change lines, the line I needed was closed. Damn. Expensive taxi time. It's raining cats and dogs, and I'm not too excited to be here. I head to the hostel listed in my Lonely Planet, and luckily, even though I arrive after the curfew, they are still open and welcoming.

Next morning, I get up and head to the dining room for some free breakfast (woo, free!) and meet Conrad, a Canadian passing through Milan, and Clara, half German half Californian, as she describes, on a semester break from her studies. I ask her about this place I keep hearing recommendations about from other travelers I've met, Cinque Terre (pronounced, CHIN-kweh TEHR-re). She mentioned that she's headed there next, and that she's staying one more day in Milan because there aren't any beds in the Ostello 5 Terre for the night. She also recommended that I just call and see if they have anything, and I thought, well, why not try? I've only got a few days left before China and I'm not sure I want to spend them in Milan, a city obsessed with its fashion and looks.

Call up the hostel using my handy dandy Skype, and the guy tells me, "Yes, we have seven beds left. Where are you now?" I tell him I'm in Milan.
"Well, you should hurry and come by because we don't take reservations under one week ahead and if people come, we will run out."
"OK, thanks." Click.

Off to the train station, I buy my ticket to Cinque Terre and hop on the next one out. After about three hours on the train (and a fabulous nap later) looking out the window gives me a glimpse of...

Il Mare! I can see the sea again! And the sun! How great to see it shining in the beautiful blue sky, which I haven't seen for over a week. I look out the other window and I see... green covered mountains, and small houses sprinkled sparsely between the vegetation. The train finally arrives in a small city called Monterroso. I'm supposed to change trains here, so I get out and wait for the next one, which comes by about 20 minutes after. Finally arriving in the city of Manarola, I jump out of the train, and head toward the main street of Manarola, then up the street toward the hostel.

I see other backpackers heading up the hill. I walk faster to pass them up ...

Arriving at the door I see that... it's closed. Well, it opens up again in 15 minutes, might as well put my bags down and wait. The two backpackers come to the door. They're both from Australia, Guy and Donna. Door opens and I move inside. Woohoo! There's still a bed left. Fantastic! I put my stuff in the locker and explore the place. Top floor has a roof that... is open! I go outside and it hits me...

Cinque Terre - The 5 lands. 5 small towns, each with population under 1000 (including tourists, except for Montessoro, which is nearer to 2000), all built on cliffs that overlook the sea, individually charming, collectively breathtaking.

This is exactly what I envisioned Italy would look like. This is exactly why I came to Italy. I'm filled with absolute bliss and can't help but smile at my surroundings and how utterly beautiful it is.

I would try to say more, but I think this will explain it better.

Amazing, no? It's like a dream come true.

Want another one? Of course you do.

How about another city, say, Vernazza?

If you ever go to Europe, you cannot afford to miss this place. The food, the people, the rustic cozy atmosphere and the nature and trails... Amazing.

As always, head over to the Italy photoset yourself to see more.

Footsteps

2007-10-30T10:29:00.000Z

Here are some footsteps for you guys to show you where I've been.

Hogwarts: The Great Hall

This is Joe's place. And that's the couch!

Brussels, Belgium

Bruges, Belgium

Amsterdam, Netherlands

As always, you can just go straight to the photos themselves.

Next, I go to Milan, Italy!

Still alive

2007-10-25T12:37:00.000+01:00

I know I haven't written or posted up photos in a while. Just been doing a lot of traveling and keeping connected with a few people while brushing through various cities.

London, with Joe.
Brussels with Jim. Bruges too.
Now in Amsterdam.

Just to let you guys know, I'm still alive.

I've run out of space for my photos on my laptop though. Good thing I have this iPod to save photos off too...

God Save The Queen

2007-10-15T23:34:00.000+01:00

Here now in London with Joe in his awesome flat. It's a really nice place a bit southwest of the main city of London.

Went to visit Buckingham Palace, the Tower London Bridge, and St. Paul's Cathedral. I thought the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur in Montmarte (northern part of Paris) was amazing, but St. Paul's is beautiful beyond belief. Not only does it have one of the most elaborately decorated and beautifully designed interiors I've seen yet, its materials are chosen in a manner that really enhances the overall look. Most of the other cathedrals I've seen use a darker stone that blends in much more with the colors of the wood and other materials used. St. Paul uses really clean white stone that serves as a great contrast to the paintings and gilded wood, serving to enhance both.

It's fantastic.

One thing I have to say about such "no photography" policies which claim that using a camera is disrespectful: I show no disrespect by appreciating the great works of men through an artistic medium of my choice, the same way that the people who appreciate these works by choosing to sketch them, here, there and everywhere in the cathedral show no disrespect.

If you allow them to sit there and appreciate art in architecture by drawing and sketching what they see, to create their own representation, their own reality of the scene, how is that different from my choice of composition, choosing my own reality and my own representation using my lens, my eye, and my position? Furthermore, by taking what the camera sees and further manipulating it again (possibly in Photoshop) into a further distilled, augmented representation of reality?

One is clearly similar to the other.

This is a great work of men, men which are said to be created by God. Blood, sweat and tears of thousands, preserved in stone, tile, pigments, wood and eons of time, all because these men were compelled to create such a monstrous beauty in the name of a deity they know not to exist except under faith.

To prevent such an appreciation, to disallow my choice, my way of appreciating this work would be disrespectful to both man and God.

There is no disrespect from me for God or God's house of worship. I reserve only disrespect to those who would prevent me from appreciating it artistically as the artists would.

Tomorrow, to Leeds.

Edit:
For more on why I believe photography is a valid artistic medium as is sketching the scene on a sheet of paper, see this link.

Off to Great Britain

2007-10-13T23:57:00.001+01:00

Off to London in the morning. Why did I get the 8 am train? Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?

Anyways, toodles all. Paris has been fun. I'll be back to write more later, but for now, I leave you with this awesome video: Les blancs ne savent pas danser (white people can't dance)

There's a great line in there that's "le seul blanc qui sais danser c'est Michael Jackson." You can pretty much get what that means.

Au revoir!

Oog

2007-10-10T23:18:00.001+01:00

Paris is the city with the most things to see so far. The people here have done everything in their power to preserve their culture and their history, and it shows, with the sheer number of huge museums that are available, the fantastically kept parks and beautiful gardens, and the ornate statues (some covered in gold), finely detailed bridges, and elaborately decorated buildings.

C'est magnifique!

Although, I guess I had a tough night of sleep or something because I'm achy and I feel like I'm getting sick. I spent most of today sleeping, and left the place at 5 pm after feeling like I was decent enough to go out to see the Louvre.

Contrary to some people's opinions ("the Louvre is overrated" - Diana Wan) the Louvre is an absolutely magnificent spectacle of a museum. Statues, gigantic paintings (beautiful, BEAUTIFUL monstrosities of paintings, both framed and built into the walls and ceilings). I wish I had photos to show you right now, but I have been in and out of sleep and consciousness, and now battling for my health, so I will have to do that later. I haven't even finished my Scotland photos yet. Ah well, in due time.

Here is one of their gigantic paintings.

I think it's the Coronation of Napoleon, by David Jacques-Louis.

Rant time: What the F*CK is up with the Mona Lisa display, les gens du Musée du Louvre? I get that you need to put up glass in front of the painting to protect it from the constant barrage of the morons in front of it, constantly bombarding it with UV flash. Good idea. What I don't get is why you have to block it off with guides at such a f*cking far distance? The painting is simply two feet high. I like looking AT the details and strokes, seeing the mastery from which the artist's hand flows, the cracks and creases that the elements left in the pigments/paints, the subtle gradients of color within/between each stroke... and now you've shoved me 20 feet away so that La Joconde is merely the size of a stamp. Bravo... idiots.

Like the Tour Eiffel, La Joconde (the Mona Lisa) is another one of the French letdowns. Merde.

In other news, I was able to get my ATM card. Huzzah!

If I didn't say it earlier, the Paris metro is absolutely tourist friendly. It has stops named after all of its famous attractions so you know where to go and where to stop. It even tells you when the next train is coming along, and their buses also have the maps of their stops. Amazing. If you are ever here longer than a few days and you imagine you'll be traveling around Paris a lot, I'd say buy a weekly ticket. I must have used it all up in 3 days with all the bus line transfers and metro that I've been using. It works for the metro, the RER (longer distance subway train) and the buses.

Anyway, I must sleep. Au revoir!

Solo

2007-10-07T21:39:00.000+01:00

Sandra (my cousin Sheila's friend from Loveboat) and her friend Jun have taken me around for the past two days. We've been waking up really late (OK so honestly I get up the latest so its my fault) so I didn't get to see too much but I'm covered under their French wings and am protected against having to figure my way out and about the city. Everywhere I went, I had no clue where it relatively was in comparison to the rest of the city.

Well that all changes tomorrow.

I'm back on my own two feet and am headed to the city myself... wish me luck!

Paris, je t'aime?

2007-10-06T03:08:00.000+01:00

Today is my first day walking around, alone, in a country whose primary language is not English.

I got out of the bus which took me from Beauvais airport to Paris, and started heading in the direction of where I believed the Metro to be ("look for a circle with a big yellow M" I was told). I walked for about a mile, circling and going down side streets, finding a lack of any such Metro. I was almost run over by the crazy French drivers who fight each other in what amounts to an endless game of sideways chicken to get ahead during rush hour. They turn on the "walk" signal here when the vehicle traffic crossing the pedestrian line still has the green. It's up to the driver to see you and stop. Imagine my surprise as I'm walking into the intersection as I'm nearly sideswiped by a hatchback and flattened by a minivan.

Le sigh.

Anyway, headed back to the lot, walked in the opposite direction this time. Ah, hello Metro. Surprisingly enough, the Metro is amazingly easy to follow (once you freakin find it). Easier than in Chicago. I'm transferring lines and hopping trains in no time.

And watching everyone intently in a proactive thievery prevention strategy. Yes, that means you, woman holding a baby. I know how you totally eyed these slippers, these two dollar Walmart specials. I've got my eye on you....

Get out of the subway at the right stop, head to where I'm supposed to go according to Google maps. Uhhh.... where the heck is this street (Alleé de la Chocolaterie)... I walk to the end of the street, turn around, and walk back. I go up to number 22 and look at the street sign... Rue Jules Ferry.

Oh freakinay, my brilliant plan to find the place on my own has hit a huge roadblock. I have no clue where this Alleé is around me. Best of all, this is the last step too. Oh, Christ, help meeee.

Some old Chinese lady with a dog is walking by, and she stares at me. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking "I wonder if she thinks I'm lost. Maybe she'll help me out. Please God, let her be helpful."

I keep walking, head to another building and peer in the glass door. Dude, there is no way this place could be it. Oh man... stern resolve crumbling... fear creeping in... sense of helplessness growing... Huh?

The old lady was saying something in French. "Uhhh.... (in my best imitation French accent) Alleé de la Chocolaterie?" She points at the paper I'm holding, and I show her the house number, 22. She says, in slow broken English "Oh, zat is my 'ouse. I live weeth my, uh... daughter."

ZOMG. I'm saved.

Turns out, she's my host's mother.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAALLLL!

Atlas Shrugged

2007-10-05T09:31:00.000+01:00

Ayn Rand.

The author of Atlas Shrugged, a book I picked up to whittle away the seconds, minutes, and hours waiting to be transported from one moment to the next. A book I chose because of a videogame called Bioshock, which apparently utilized the ideals in her thousand page work as the basis of the atmosphere and backstory.

The only other book that I've read of Ayn Rand is Anthem, a shorter, politically tinged, narration of one of her characters, explaining what essentially amounts to her view on collectivism. I could be wrong, it's been ages since I've read it, but I know it was some form of 'ism' that she wanted to portray in the world she created. It was short, it was dense, it was full of heavy ideas, and I had to read it for a class, hence it was ultimately something that I had to pore over and understand its meaning, deeply, symbolically, and not something that I would overall enjoy. I assumed that Atlas Shrugged would be the same, dry, slow, denseness, except a thousand pages thick.

I could never be more wrong.

Atlas Shrugged has been a fantastic read thus far. A thoroughly developed story, incredible characters (literally, some are unbelievable), all tied together in a war, an epic struggle of the capitalist, ability/merit driven, objective seekers and the supposed selfless merit smashing, level-playing-field brotherly-lovers.

I really need to slow down when reading this book. I'm going to finish it too quickly and then I won't have anything else to whittle away those seconds, minutes, hours...

The Scottish Heritage

2007-10-04T21:06:00.000+01:00

What could be more Scottish than a whiskey distillery? Not just any distillery, mind you, but the Glengoyne distillery, one of many that has been Scottish run for the entirety of its existence.

Glengoyne is located about 14 miles north of Glasgow. You take the number 10 bus from Buchannan bus station and tell the driver that you're headed to ~~get plastered~~ visit the Glengoyne distillery. He drops you off right in front of it, then you head to the back to the reception area. On the way there, I met three Canadians from Toronto, one guy, his wife and their friend, who were also setting off to specifically visit the distillery. Thankfully I went when they did, otherwise I would be alone on the tour and well... that would be just weird.

I decided to go for the Tasting Tour, which includes four drams of their best whiskeys. I originally wanted to go for the Master Blender Tour, which allows you to create your own blend from various others but they said you have to RSVP that one in advance. Alas...

Heading upstairs, we get to a bar area with a big TV. The tour guide pours a dram of their bread and butter 10 year old single malt for the four of us. I try some of it, and also with Jason's expert whiskey advice, I put a bit of water into the whiskey. The water breaks a seal on the whiskey and releases deeper flavors, while reducing the harshness of the alcohol. Works like a charm.

After the small video, we head outside to their back area to show us the natural water that they use in part of the distilling process. It didn't exactly look so fresh or clean. Thankfully they only use that water for cooling and get their pure spring water from another area in Scotland. Taking us outside and into the actual warehouse, we get to an area where he shows us the process of malting, or smashing barley and heating it in water. He basically takes us next to a giant vat of it, opens it up and lets us stick our heads in to smell and see what's going on. Neat.

Next, he takes us to the huge wooden fermenting barrels where they take all the malted barley, throw it into fresh spring water, and add yeast. They ferment until the yeast kills itself to about 8% alcohol, sort of a malted beer. Taking this beer, they put it into multiple distillers, each time concentrating the alcohol until it's somewhere north of 70% alcohol. At this point, it's still just a clear spirit. Where does it get the color?

Why, from the oak barrels. These barrels are from various parts of the world, and they are cask sherry barrels (sherry is stored in them for some years to infuse flavor into the wood). The spirit is put into these barrels, where they sit and mature in their storage area, soaking up the flavors of the oak and sherry for over 10 years. The whiskey also soaks flavors from the air in the area, and since Glengoyne is in the highlands where it's beautifully clean, you don't get a lot of the harsher iodine flavors you'd get with a distillery near the ocean, for example.

Each year, a small percentage of the whiskey evaporates into the air. The Scots call that the "Angel's Share" and joke about how happy those Angels are. The alcohol evaporates faster than the water does and the concentration lowers over the years spent aging.

Next, we're taken into the boardroom where we are poured drams of their 17 year and 21 year whiskeys. The 17 year is even smoother than the 10 with a deeper sweetness to it.

How's the 21 year?

Smooooooooooooth. Delicious. I could possibly be drunk at this point. Adding some water, the flavors really come out. I can see the look in the Canadian guy's face, he says he's definitely going to buy something expensive here.

Now taking us back to the shop called Slainte Mhath (Gaelic, pronounced "slan je vah", means "good health to you!") he passes us each a dram of 12 year cask strength whiskey. Cask strength means they don't dilute the whiskey to it's regular 43% alcohol volume, it's straight from the barrel at 57%.

Oh gawd, it's like a bear clawing its way down my throat. A bear with sweet honey tasting claws.

The Canadian guy grabs one of the 21 year bottles, and the ladies get some souvenirs. It turns out they're in Glasgow and then eventually Edinburgh for their friend's wedding. Pretty cool. They have to head back but I hear about this very nice local restaurant and inn so I turn at the road and head towards... well I can't see anything but fields past this point, so I just head down the road.

10 minutes later, I happen upon a small town and get to the Beech Tree Inn. They have this thing called High Tea time where you get an entrée, a set of desserts, and tea for 10 pounds! Woo!

And that's that for the day.

William Wallace

2007-10-03T22:50:00.001+01:00

Went to Stirling Castle today, the battleground where Mel Gibs---I mean, William Wallace fought against the English and handed their asses to them at the Battle of Stirling Bridge. Also went to the bridge and his gigantic monument. The people in the Highlands looooove William Wallace. It was pretty badass to be at the actual site of battle.

Except for walking through miles of Scotland rain. That was a pain.

Time to dance

2007-10-02T18:38:00.000+01:00

Glasgow is a nice city, although I prefer Scotland's bigger metropolis, Edinburgh, when it comes to looks and history. Maybe it's just that I missed a few things yesterday since things close early (my bad) and some listings in the Lonely Planet actually changed (doh!). It's OK though, I managed to get out early today and see what I wanted and eat what I desired.

In my planning brilliance, I have left it up to October 5th before I fly down to Paris. I'm going to use this time to see the Highlands again because while the city is nice, I love Scotland's natural wonders.

By the way, my hosting solution in Paris was solved due to quick action by my awesome cousin Sheila and her friend Sandra who is currently chillin' in Paris.

I'm staying at a really nice flat here in Glasgow. The host is a really cool girl named Matilda who is paying only 62 pounds/week for a place that is all art deco, wooden floors, and modernesque. That, my friends, is a fantastic deal. She's actually renting it from a filmmaker that... get this... makes pr0n. He uses the place to keep a lot of "props" from his sets.

One can only guess at what kinds of things are kept behind the white sheet in the center of the flat...

In other news, internet is being stolen from the coffeeshop downstairs (free!! woohoo!) but it's too slow to upload photos or do anything else. I can use Skype to call people though, and it manages to keep the connections.

In other news, my ATM card expired yesterday, and I have like, 5 pounds in my wallet.

Shite.

It's time to dance.

(later)

So, I've worked around my "cash" problem for now. I'll just have the ATM card sent to my next destination (Paris!) and in the meanwhile, I can get cash advance thru my credit card. Of course, they say they'll charge the regular APR (which is like, 17% or something) so I'm like, F- that, I'll just prepay my credit card in advance and collect it like a bank account.

And... Skype is awesome. I can call all over the world for like 2 cents a minute (most major countries) and set up appointments and things! How cool is that. All for $10 in measly credit.

Saw a football game today. Rangers vs. Lyon (Scotland vs. France). The Rangers scored pretty early, and then twice more! Each time, the whole bar (which was like, 12 guys watching the big screen) would erupt with cheers and a lot of yelling. I also had a full bottle of Bulmers. 586 mL thank you very much.

I need more water.

Gratitude

2007-09-30T16:56:00.002+01:00

So things aren't going as smoothly as they started. That's OK, just gotta think a bit, do some extra planning and have some hope.

I wanted to write about what I was thankful for while I'm out here without all my stuff a few days ago, and now would be a good time to do it, no?

I'm thankful that I told my mom I wanted to go to Europe a few months ago so she could freak out then and not freak out when I told her that I was leaving for Europe... three days before I actually did. I'm also thankful that she's handling things especially well.

I'm thankful for Andy and Andy's brother Anthony and how they let me know about Global Freeloaders. While I didn't use that system myself (it honestly looked kind of ghetto) I managed to find something else just about as good called CouchSurfing. It's led me to awesome hosts so far in Dublin and now Edinburgh, all of whom have made me feel so much at home and welcomed into strange new lands.

I'm thankful for these awesome hosts who have done absolutely everything and more to make my experience here in Europe amazing. I could not ask for more from them; they have been fantastic. Suz and Matt in Dublin were fantastic, and Rob, Nick, Karin, Jason and Holly are so hospitable it's almost a crime.

I'm thankful for the music that Tim has given me. It's truly been awesome to walk around in new places listening to new music. One of the best things that's happened is hearing the new iPod Nano commercial song come up in my headphones as I'm walking on the streets of Dublin. Such a pleasant surprise. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you can watch the video here.

I'm thankful for e-mail, without which I wouldn't be able to send messages to my mom to keep her from worrying about me too much. Also to respond to some other important emails.

I'm thankful for the shoes I bought. They're made by Keen and they look weird since they give you a lot of space for your toes, making me feel like a clown. Let me tell you, these are the most comfortable shoes I've had for long distance walking. I can go for miles with no blisters, no aches or pains. They just keep on going and going. Speaking of which, also thankful for Smart Wool socks. My feet are normally sweaty, but these socks pull the sweat away and make my feet unbelievably dry.

I'm thankful for free internet (when I can get it) since it's expensive here. Here's a testament to how fast it is over here: I'm in Edinburgh, Scotland, and their internet is up to 16 megabits per second. Normally 8 megabits. WTF!

I'm thankful that my mom, who could almost be considered Amish when it comes to computers, can respond to my emails and tell me what's going on at home, even though in her words "mom sound like a broken record." Still getting the hang of it I suppose.

I'm thankful that these countries are not developing nations so I can drink the tap water and save 2 pounds/euro per bottle.

I'm thankful that I'm still young and healthy enough to drag around a laptop, a giant camera, and all my crap with me on my back without collapsing or complaining (too much). I'm also thankful that I haven't been robbed yet. Or died (thanks Oyoung).

I'm thankful for all the memories that I've had with my friends. They make me laugh even though I haven't seen anybody in a few weeks. I'm going to stop talking about this now so I avoid being homesick. I don't want to talk myself into coming back so early...

I'm thankful for being such a cheapass I don't have to worry too much when I decide to splurge on food. Because seriously, traveling means eating strange and wonderful things, and I wouldn't want to limit myself there.

I'm thankful for Europe for being there and for trying its best to preserve what history they could by restoring certain historic sites and opening them to the public. And for most places that let me go nuts with the camera.

I'm thankful for cold weather since it means I don't have to sweat so much.

I'm thankful for being able to bring my camera and my laptop so I could work on things as I go.

I'm thankful for you, my friends and family, for sticking around and (hopefully) reading this stuff as I go. And also for letting me know who may be out here in this continent too =)

Off to Glasgow now. See you later...

Oh yeah, news: I'm headed to China in a few weeks...

Great day, not so great late night news

2007-09-29T23:13:00.000+01:00

Past two days:

Places:
Edinburgh Castle - Cold. Very cold. You get to see the Scotland Honours though (Crown Jewels).
Real Mary King Close - Underground tour of original Old Town Scotland. Conditions were pretty horrible back in the day.
National Museum of Scotland - Is huge. Very cool insect exhibit.
Palace of Hollyrood House - Where Mary, Queen of Scots lived.
The Salisbury Craggs ... I thought I climbed Arthur's Seat, but alas, no dice. I had no clue which one was the right path but I kept going up until I reached some kind of peak. It was like 7:30 and it was freezing and raining by the time I got to the top.
Loch Ness and the Scottish Highlands - THIS is what Scotland is all about, folks. The Highlands are where Scotland's beauty really shines. And you got the Highlander from it. Played by a French guy. Trained by (supposedly) a Spanish guy, played by a Scotsman, Sean Connery.

Food:
Scottish Breakfast - Same as Irish breakfast. Just this time it has HAGGIS!

What is haggis, you ask? It's basically all the parts from a sheep that you don't want to think about mixed with oats, onion, spices and salt. It sounds disgusting. Oh ho ho, but how does it taste?

In a word? Heavenly.

While at a mill in the highlands, I stopped by a whiskey shop for some free tasting (woot woot). Bought some fantastic single malt Scottish whiskey.

Got home. Reading email. My host for Paris had her heart broken from her first day (crap apartment, expectations destroyed), and will be going home in a few days.

I have lost my host for Paris =(

Having trouble buying a ticket to China. Paper ticket only? $45 to ship? WTF.

I'm afraid to even look at my photos. I don't want shit to blow up there.

(later)

Figured out how to fix ticket buying issues. Had to look up tickets at kayak.co.uk instead of kayak.com, silly internets.

It's like Ryan said, some days are ups, others are downs. I was just feeling so at home here, lost among the Old World with new faces, new friends, new locations. Got shaken up a bit, and feeling a bit lost but in a different way.

Anyway, I'm pretty bummed. I was so looking forward to having a travel buddy in Paris.

Time to call in the backups.

I am not prepared.

2007-09-27T22:37:00.000+01:00

Stepping off the plane in Edinburgh, I immediately notice my very visible breath.

Scotland may be beautiful (as seen flying over it) but it is also freezing.

Bus to city center. The Edinburgh Castle is right nearby (it's built on a volcano!) and so, I head toward it. Unfortunately, it is currently 8 am and the castle doesn't open until 9:30, so I have to occupy myself. Perhaps I should find an H&M or something so I can get some warmer clothes. Crossing the street I see... an H&M. Excellent!

It's not open yet.

The wind is blowing even harder. And it's starting to rain.

Intermission

2007-09-27T21:49:00.000+01:00

Before we continue, I would just like to point out to everyone to please visit this link and watch all the episodes.

Adult Swim Rules.

See it now. There is no excuse.

Back to Dublin, Ireland

2007-09-27T21:05:00.000+01:00

Headed back to Dublin today to catch a early morning Thursday flight to Edinburgh. Went early to the Kilkenny Castle to see if Idé, the pretty tourguide was around. Alas, she was not to be found.

Back to town, it's time for... Irish breakfast!

Here you see the sausages, rashers, black and white pudding, the fried egg, baked beans, sauteed mushrooms and toast.

I've decided that all breakfasts should come with sauteed mushrooms. And an egg of some sort.

Now at the train station... waiting for the bus.... which is 10 minutes late... A station worker comes out and tells us that the bus will be one hour late. To quote Tan, POOP! Bought a ticket to the train instead (twice as much, poop) and got on. It's nice and toasty on the train, and a much more relaxing and comfortable ride than the bus though.

Back in Dublin, I decide to hit up the Kilmainham Gaol (pronounced 'jail' because it is), an old jail built in 1796. It was important in Irish history because it imprisoned and executed many Irish leaders, which added fuel to their campaign for Irish independence. You can wiki it, I'm just here for photos.

It's quite a surreal place to walk around in.

After the Gaol, went back to find St. Patrick's Cathedral since I missed it on the first day. It took a while to find. Damn city and it's inexplicably difficult signage placement.

Killed some time at the Internet Cafe looking up directions, planning some Edinburgh stuff, and reading up on things.

One more of The Spire before I go.

Goodbye, Ireland. You were a blast!

Little more Kilkenny

2007-09-25T21:44:00.001+01:00

Walked about Kilkenny today, going to such places as this, St. Canice's Cathedral.

Close up:

HDR done right looks so good.

Over at St. Canice's also, you can walk up this giant tower called the round tower. It's tough to get up, especially for me, since I have a backpack full of stuff and the tower gets narrower as you go up. A lot of holding my breath to get higher.

You could imagine how long it took me to get down.

Later in the day, decided to find some good eats (again). Found a place called Zuni, recommended by the hostel caretaker. In Ireland (and possibly other places in Europe) they have early bird menus, or pre-fix menus for 5-7 pm. You can do two or three courses for a decent price. I got some salmon soup thing with a realllllly delicious salmon entree and pesto.

Delicious with the potatoes and chilli mayonnaise.

And of course, the Bulmers.

It glowwwwwws.

Kilkenny and Ireland's countryside

2007-09-25T17:17:00.001+01:00

Gathering all my stuff together, I bid farewell to my awesome host Suz, drop the key back in their mailbox, and set off for the bus station.

Down at the city centre, I see a sign for a Full Irish breakfast, which includes something called black and white pudding, baked beans, and sauteed mushrooms, among the regular sausage and rashes (sort of Irish bacon, but bigger). I ask the security guard nearby what the pudding is, and barely comprehend anything he says through the thickest Irish accent I have ever heard. So... I walk off.

Two minutes later, I think "fuck it!" and turn around to get my Irish breakfast. The restaurant is upstairs in some kind of department store, and I get the full shebang, all for about 6.4 euros, which is like 9 dollars. Bit pricey, but it was delicious.

Black and white pudding is some kind of pork mishmash put together into what looks basically like a puck: a small, cylindrical object that looks... well, black. The white one just looks like the color of meat. Both of them taste too good to be healthy. It's like a heart attack pill, seriously. Which is why I finish both of them and almost everything on that plate. So hungry, I forgot to take a photo (again).

Off to the bus station. Buy the ticket, get on the bus, fall asleep, wake up. Ireland's countryside is lush and green, owing to the fact that it rains all year round. It's pretty awesome traveling to the boonies and seeing nothing but rolling hills and green everywhere. Not like disgusting brown California. Hooray!

Arriving at the train station, I take off to find the hostel with my printed Google map. I always feel so lost when I arrive at a new place, even with the map. Once I walk it and have my bearings, I can get lost and figure my way out easily, but those first few steps in a new area always mess with my head.

Dropping off my stuff at the hostel, I take off south through the town centre and arrive at Kilkenny Castle which overlooks the river Nore at the bend.

Kilkenny Castle, from the castle grounds.

View from the castle overlooking Nore River.

Going inside, I whip out my trusty UCI Student ID, which has saved me many a buck (and now euro) and buy my pass for the tour. I can put my bag away at the coat check (woohoo!) but I have to check in my camera too (sob). Oh well. Sitting in the room waiting for the intro video, in walks this really cute blonde girl. She looks around, pauses for a moment, and begins to speak. What comes out of her mouth can only be described as ear candy, a core of English honey coated with the sweetest Irish accent ever. Think Veronica Mars doing really thick Irish.

Suddenly it's not so important that I have no camera. I'm really going to enjoy this tour.

Ide the tour guide starts with the castle history, beginning way in the early 12th century, possibly earlier than that. Some Irish king named Strongbow (because he was excellent with the bow and crossbow) takes over the area, eventually passing on the titles and things to a Butler family. Fast forward a couple centuries, the decaying castle was sold to a restoration society for 50 pounds. They restored a ton of the interior and it's what you can see today.

Great looking library room. Fantastically detailed paintings, furniture, wallpaper, rugs, couches---everything looks amazing. Moving onto the highest floor, the gallery room, painted in a deep red. Tons of paintings there, beautiful furniture also, and excellently bright because of the skylight. Too bad I can't show any photos.

After the tour, I went back and got my photo stuff and begin exploring the area. Down to this underground passageway lined with bricks and ... modern architecture. It's kind of a weird composition.

The ceiling is made out of a mishmash of sticks and mud.

Out on the other side, I find that it comes out to where the tour ended. Hey, I can sneaker around a bit and possibly get a photo...

I is such a ninja.

I hear footsteps and (stealthily) sneaker my way back down, past the rope, and back to some other unexplored area. Ide walks by, and I ask her about the photograph policy. Turns out another house had a bunch of stuff stolen and they thought it had to do with allowing the public to take photos. Er, OK. It's too bad though, because next to us are a bunch of photos of the castle itself, and they look beautiful. She tells me of some of the photos, about how some of the rooms aren't finished for the public yet. I love asking her questions. It means I get to hear more of the voice.

She takes off to do some tour guide business stuff. Damn, was just about to ask to take her photo. I head off toward an exhibition with lots of Burma photos, excellent portraits of children and people from Burma. I wrote something in the guest book, and take off.

Oh look, Ide's at the coat rack place.

So I borrowed her from the coat rack for a photo.

Oh God, I love it when she says thingies.

Leaving the castle itself, I head off to the grounds and walk around the exterior grounds. It's a huge park, and on the side is a forest area with trails that lead everywhere. Most people seem to jog in the area.

What a beautiful place to have a jog.

Going further into the forest, I find a door in the wall that surrounds the park. Oh look, more park.

There's a strange looking statue out there by the water.

Back into town, I head north to the cathedral, but alas, it is too late. Closed for the day. Walking past the church, I get to a part of town that becomes a bit more modern looking. Kilkenny is a really old world looking town, thin streets, brightly colored buildings, arches of stone. All signs are painted, there's no neon or lighted signs anywhere.

Sidewalks made of stone. Neat.

Bought some Indian food to try it out, Chicken Tikka Curry. Jeebus, it's helluva spicy. Strange sort of sweetness to the curry also. Their cucumber yogurt thing is SUPER sweet. I prefer the Indian food back home...

Sit down for some blogging. Blog. Photo stuff. Chat here and there. Decide to go out and get a Bulmers cider again.

Heading out, I'm about to take a photo of the night street, and this girl in front of me bends obnoxiously in the way. I'm like.... OK... then I notice that she looks familiar. It's Suz! Ha! She came down south with her friend Kamila (I probably butchered the spelling) for her road trip around the southern/western coast. I join them for a bit of a drink. Heading to a nearby bar, I get the cider (still delicious) and we go upstairs to hang out, and for them to smoke. A bunch of locals come by, one of them singing along to whatever's going on, but his words are more of a slurry mumbled mess.

Drunken Irish Guy + The Girls.

Kamila is quite cute, no? No it's not the beer speaking. Declines my request for a photo. Turns out her degree was in photography. Ah, photographers hating their own photos, totally understand.

Stumbling back to the hostel, it's time for more computer monkeying and then sleep.

The Dead

2007-09-25T15:51:00.000+01:00

Woke up late today, about 11 am. Head spinning, slight ache. Go kitchen, get water. Go bed. Sleep.

Woke up again, at around 12:30. Matt came by and asked me if I wanted something to eat. I can't turn down food. Matt's a vegetarian. He put together some kale (greenish leafy vegetable) with sesame seeds and lemon juice, and stir fried some tomatoes and mushrooms with baked beans. It was fantastic. He mentioned that there's some places nearby to check out, a cemetery and the botanical garden.

Cemetery sounds fantastic. I head out, walking along a giant wall and arrive at the entrance. The first thing you notice about old world cemeteries... is that their headstones are gigantic and elaborate in a lavish, meticulous way.

Fuck Forest Lawn, I want to come here to die, a giant stone golem representing (in my case) my delusional greatness erected amongst the other stone monstrosities. Actually, I'd want to be buried in Forest Lawn, except I'd have a bigass Irish monument of awesomeness among the pitiously inconspicuous plaques in the area, just for contrast. And spite.

My apologies to those resting at Forest Lawn. You guys deserve great monuments to your lives, not tiny plaques with a name.

Prospect Cemetery is ginormous. When you're walking through the paths, it is a forest of stone and marble. People that passed away in the 1700s, 1800s. This is a very, very old cemetery. The age shows in a lot of the older stone, weathered away, stained by eons of rain and elements. Some of them are crosses that have succumbed to vines and foliage, cracked and broken on top of other graves.

Walking deeper into the area, you see sort of a round area with sort of depression in the ground, like a moat. Except, where water would be are lots of doors, most likely burial chambers. Each of the doors have two small holes. I was curious but neglected to stuff my eye into it. It seemed a morbid thing to do, invading the private chambers of those resting for eternity.

I half expect to walk into the church, and find a legion of demons, walking skeletons, and other demonic stuff.

Weapon: Cheap tripod.
0.01 damage, +2 to stupidity

On the way out, I passed what I thought was the greatest monument, a sort of gigantic stone shrine to the cardinal or someone of Ireland, long ago. Laid out in the design of a cross, as many of them are (Ireland is predominantly Catholic), it had four small angels surrounding the stone representation of the sleeping cardinal, lying on a stone pillow. He seemed at peace, surrounded by his winged friends watching over him.

Back to the flat, I decided not to visit the botanical gardens, and instead take a nap. Delicious nap.

That.... lasted the rest of the day.

Next, Kilkenny and the countryside.

More City Centre, Phoenix Park, and Dublin Nightlife

2007-09-23T20:01:00.000+01:00

Woke up too early. Must be jet lag. Decided to head to the city for a bit and check out Trinity College and possibly the Jameson Whiskey Distillery, if I have time.

Odd moment on the bus. The bus takes me past a church which is uncannily the exact church that I have seen in a dream. The same look, the same architecture on its sides, and even the same steps and fenced off areas on the side. Hmm...

Walking south on O'Connell St. during the day, I stop at an internet cafe where I jot down some thoughts, upload some photos, send some emails. I decide that in the interest of time and cost, I'll write my logs and do most of the photo processing offline, then hop into some internet cafe, upload it all, and peace out. Guess I'll just write a quick blurb for now to let people know I'm alive and then take off. *That was the last blurb that I updated with this one.

Ah, Trinity College ... Very old buildings. This part of Dublin apparently used to be over a body of water.

On to the Book of Kells, a very old book of the gospels in the Bible, meticulously written and decorated with inks made from dyes from all parts of the world. Lapis lazuli, a specific kind of ore found far away from Dublin to the east. A red dye, made from pigments harvested from a specific kind of beetle in the Mediterranean. Yeesh.

Trinity Library... Fancy.

Illegal photography is really the best kind. I contemplated climbing the stairs and taking photos from the 2nd floor, but alas...

On the way back, I decide to stop off at the Stag's Head, a bar recommended in my Lonely Planet. Old women and gentlemen in the front corner getting their drink on.

I go for the meat, mushrooms, potatoes thing with a brown sauce made with Guinness. Sounds good. The reality doesn't disappoint either. It's fantastic. No beer for now though, there'll be plenty of time for that later.

Headed back to the hosts. Suz was there, and we get ready and take off toward Phoenix Park, a gigantic park to the west of where we are. It's much like Stanley Park in Vancouver, which is basically a huge park broken up into smaller areas with things to do. We rent some bikes and take off toward the recommended point. This park is HUGE. My legs totally feel the pain, especially when riding on the grass. Passing by a boring fort and riding past a bunch of trees and a semi-hidden house, I can't help but imagine myself traveling around the world of Oblivion... except, I'm on a bike instead of a horse. A lot of biking later, we reach the giant field in the center where a bunch of deer are grazing, and stop a moment to take some photos.

Continuing on... much more biking later... Alas, it was too late. The recommended area was already closed by the time we got there. Ah well. Headed back down the center road, we reach the entrance much quicker than it took to get to the back. After paying the fee, we take off back home to get ready and meet up with some of Suz's friends.

Matt, Suz and I leave the flat and head toward the city centre where we meet up with her friends, Belinda, Helen, Kelly and Renee. Another one of them shows up, Chris, a big guy with a THICK Australian accent. We go over to a Chinese/Korean restaurant. Oooh, I get to try the local Korean fare and compare it to what we have at home. Decided to get what I thought would be soon tofu, but it turned out to just be kimchi soup. Oh well, I tried a bit, it was good. Helen and Chris both opted for bi bim bap, but the spicy/nonspicy was switched, so I took the spicy one off Helen's and ate it (she got another nonspicy one as a replacement). It's good. Helluva spicy.

Cucumber whiskey + Helen.

Afterwards, we head a few steps away to the bar where the CS meet is happening. The Irish are a rowdy, fun loving, beer swigging folk. Lots of chatting and drinking. Helen isn't feeling the place for some reason (possibly a very rowdy Irishman talking to everyone passing by and making lewd jokes) so she suggests going to 4 Dame Ln (a bar appropriately named after its address). Kelly wants to grab a drink first, and I'm still really full, so instead of a beer, I went for... a bottled coke! It tastes different than in the states. Apparently, they don't use the corn syrup. Good stuff. I gotta tell you, I don't know if it's just the fact that I'm in Ireland, or I'm with all these cool people I don't know, or I'm singing along to random 80s/90s songs blasting through the air with the girls, but I'm having a fuckin blast. And I haven't even drank anything.

After we finish, we let Suz know that I'm being kidnapped away to other Irish bars and then we head off.

So many people in the streets. SO MANY. We head toward what happens to be ... the Stag's Head street, and I hear some singing going on in a nearby bar. Interested, we head on in to check things out. Apparently, all Irish people can sing very well, and this guy is no exception. From traditional Irish songs to U2 to The Killers (Mr. Brightside) he does not disappoint, hitting high notes and everything. I haven't had a bit of alcohol just yet, so you can trust me on that one.

Half pint (YES! You can get half pints. Serves me perfectly well) of Guinness and five songs later, we decide to head out to 4 Dame Ln again, literally 50 feet away. Stopping for a moment to chat with the bouncer of the Stag's Head, an idea pops into one of the girls, to take me to a bar called the Long Haul or something, and we take off.

Drunken moment of the night! I'm excellent at word vomiting, especially when I'm drunk. So, for some reason, I've been thinking that Kelly and Helen are much older than I am because I always think cool people that have their shit together are always mature, and older. We ended up discussing age somehow, and she mentioned how horrible it is to be as old as she is, and that she was 8 when it was 1990. Addled with alcohol, my brain starts putting numbers together, slowly. My mouth, however, is faster than my brain at this point, and I blurt out "Hey, I'm actually older than you guys!"

Whoops. Good thing they like me and Aussie's are very chill and laid back.

Arriving at The Long Haul, which is actually spelt The Long Hall. Here's where I decide to try one of the local ciders, called Bulmers. Nothing short of the most awesome drink ever created, I tell you. It's basically apple cider with alcohol. Deeeeeeeeeelicious. It's hard to sit down in one of their stools at this point.

Finally, we left and head to 4 Dame Ln, which reminds me of the bars/lounges back home. Lots of modern/hip hop music, it seems more trendy, more upscale. Another Bulmers later, we head upstairs to check out floor 2, which is playing Latin/Funk/Jazz music. We join tons of people dancing. Fantastic!

This is what the Irish think of the war. Great posters! Ha!

I'm holding..... a CANDLE. I don't know why. I blame Bulmers.

Downstairs for a little bit more, we decide to call it a night around 2, thanking the both of them for a wonderfully fun night. We all walk Helen to her place first, then catch a taxi back to Finglas road, which is where I'm at and near to where Kelly is.

Next, Irish Cemetery.

Dublin, Ireland

2007-09-22T09:53:00.000+01:00

Arrived at 8:45 or so. They couldn't find the luggage till later. Got out of the Airport at 11 am.

Things I learned today:
1. Dublin is cold. Good! No sweating.
2. My bag is really heavy. I need to get rid of bag #2 (stupid tripod idea, I'm not carrying this everywhere).
3. Ah, prices. $1.45 = approx 1 Euro.
4. I'd rather starve than pay a lot for food.

Bought a Dublin City Pass for one day. 31 Euros, includes a 7 Euro (worth) one way trip to the city centre and free admission to over 40 different tours and tourist traps around the city. Sounded good, let's see what we make of it.

Standing in line, I look behind me and see this old Irish man with a wicked moustache and smoking a ... pipe!? I couldn't resist asking to take his photo.

On the way in to the city centre, I couldn't help but notice that I couldn't figure out where I was. There aren't any street signs anywhere. WTF? After stopping off, I realized that the street signs are plastered on the buildings, really high up. It's hard to read from the ground sometimes, and sometimes they don't even have signs on the buildings.

Well, time to be off. I'm starving at this point since I hadn't eaten anything for hours, so I make my way down south and then west to find Gruel, a tiny cafe restaurant thing. Not having a clue what to get, I ordered some kind of meat on a roll, which is a fancy way to say sandwich. Bottled water please. "Sparkling?" he asks. "Uhhh... regular," I respond. "Oh you mean still!" Oops.

The sandwich is some kind of salted beef (the color makes it look like ham), a radish concoction and some onion jam. Overall, the meat was decent, and the jam gave it a hint of sweetness. A bit dry, but with the bottled water it was wolfed down well enough.

Back outside, I head across the street to Dublin Castle, which isn't much of a castle left, more of a palace since it was burned down/destroyed so many years ago. Included with the City Pass is the tour, so I put myself in for the next one, and wander about for a bit before the tour started. I'll just let the photos tell the story.

Upstairs, a view of the rear courtyard. Looks like a bunch of swirls in the grass.

The swirls turn out to be snakes.

After the tour is over, I head on over to the Christ's Church Cathedral. It's something wondrous to see such an old building. The design of the interior is spectacular. So much detail in the ceilings and floors.

Out of the cathedral, I'm heading to the much anticipated James Gate Brewery where the Guinness Storehouse is at. It's odd, the further away I leave the City Centre and closer I get to the Guinness Storehouse, the ghettoer it seems to get. Graffiti, cramped housing...

Finally, to the top of the Guinness Storehouse where I get my pint and a 360 degree view of Dublin, Ireland. Yummm.....

Things I saw today:
Dublin City Centre
The Spire
Christ's Church Cathedral
Dublin Castle
Guinness Storehouse, and a complimentary pint
Blurry, somewhat spinning Dublin. Thank you pint.

I present to you, Evolution Guinness:

Here's the Flickr series

Got back to Suz and Matt's place at around 7:30. Jet lag hitting me. I fell asleep and leaned against someone on the bus, like three times. No internet at their place =( It's OK, I'll find places like here in the city Centre where I can do things. Bit expensive though. Posts will be sparse and infrequent. I wish I could write more, but I'm cheap. Sorry! I'll write more when I get to Kilkenny and the internet is free. Whee!

Anyone who sees my mom and/or dad, please reassure her that I'm safe and doing well. I let her know already, but it can't hurt and will just put her more at ease, hopefully.

And now, for the photos... Flickr time!

Next, more of Dublin and it's nightlife.

Pregame

2007-09-20T14:41:00.000+01:00

6:41 am.

I have been:
- Adding songs to iPod.
- Adding photos to iPod.
- Becoming progressively hungrier.
- Adding notes on how to get to the first stop... to iPod.
- Making the most detailed map of Dublin EVER. I'll be damned if I get lost on the first day.
- Ignoring the hunger.
- Charging everything electronic that I'll need. Like the iPod.
- Constantly thinking about the last few items to pack (electronics junk).
- Not sleeping.

Still not that nervous yet. Odd.

Arriving in Dublin...

Beginnings

2007-09-17T22:10:00.000+01:00

On September 20th, 2007, I depart Los Angeles on a flight that will seem to last forever, and arrive on Sept. 21st, 8:40 am in Dublin, Ireland.... without a return ticket.

This is my home away from home, and possibly where I'll jot down some of my meanderings as I go. Unless I have to pay a lot for internet. Then, well... this home is gonna be pretty damn sparse.

My journey, and yours if you wish to follow along, begins here.

What's new:

See the left side column for what's latest under L A T E S T R A M B L I N G S

Links to country specific photo sets are left at V I S U A L L Y S T I M U L A T I N G

For adventure

2007-09-17T05:50:00.000+01:00

Some of you may know that I have been wanting to take off to Europe for a while, and it's slowly evolved from a very rigidly structured tour package (last year), into a less structured but still decently planned block of time, into a still somewhat structured but less so open ended thing, which is pretty much where it is now.

Well it's official. I'm leaving this Thursday (September 20th) to start in Dublin, Ireland, and from there work my way around the bulk of Western Europe to see, to photograph, to meet people, and of course, to eat deliciously. My one-way-ticket means I don't know how long I'll be gone. I'm gonna miss you guys terribly, but I'll figure out some kind of blog or thing you can keep checking once in a while.

Dublin, Ireland
Scotland
London, Britain
Paris, France

^ Those are planned out so far. Below are the things I want to see too, but are not rigidly planned.

Brussels, Belgium
Amsterdam, The Netherlands
Berlin, Germany
Vienna, Austria
Zurich and Lichtenstein
Florence/Rome, Italy - I imagine I would stay here a while.
Athens, Greece - Possibly a bit here too
Monte Carlo, Monaco
Madrid, Spain
Lisbon, Portugal

Aye, quite a long list. It's bound to change at any time. Maybe I'll feel like not visiting a certain area, or I've scratched my travel itch halfway. At any rate, I'll probably be gone for a while, and would love to see some of you out there if you feel like you're also itching for some travel, if you can afford to ditch responsibilities...

Also, if you happen to know relatives or friends out there, I'd love to know. If anything, it'd be fun to meet more people along the way~

I'll leave you with this, cuz my friend Andrew sung that one famous line, and I thought it seemed to fit. This isn't the original, but I thought it was sung beautifully.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwRurNsNXcY

Take care of yourselves, and I'll see you when I get back!

Chris

Next, the Pregame...