3 Months Are Up

I am entering the final six hours of my travels. Although to be fair Korea has and will continue to be part of my travels. Perhaps a better way to put it is, this chapter of my travels or some other hackneyed phrase. Regardless of nomenclature, I prepare to leave Saigon in a matter of moments, and I took some time this afternoon to reflect on the scope of my trip as well as some of the more pertinent reasons for such an undertaking. I will of course leave that for a few more days until I can get re-ensconced in the gunmetal cold of Seoul.

I guess this may be the most bloggish (I take my own meaning of it, don't ask) of my entries. I don't really have the capacity to write anything overly witty or in depth. I had to get passport photos taken this morning and I looked haggard. Perhaps it is just the beard. In any event, a quick rundown since I left Saigon.

Phu Quoc was absolutely beautiful. Saw probably the most stunning sunset of this entire trip (Trevor did make a good case for one we saw in Sulawesi, but we missed the actual sunset merely basking in its afterglow). There was virtually nothing to do but sit on the beach, drink Vietnamese beer, which to my discerning palette could be much worse, and whiled the days away. From there we pushed into the heart of the Mekong. I have to take a moment here to encourage everyone who may be reading this to find time to make that journey. The lower Mekong and the delta are an amazing experience. The colors are a vibrancy that I cannot really describe. The people live within an entirely different rhythm than most people I know. We spent a night in Chau Doc, met a carpenter from Philly who I will have more to say about in another entry, took what could have been the most leisurely cruise up the river into the Kingdom of Cambodia and eventually to Phnom Penh.

Cambodia is another place I highly suggest visiting if you have not already done so. To be sure the hardships faced there are amazing. The lack of old people alone is a telling sign of what life has been like for people. However, without sounding too much like a Lonely planet intro, they are a wonderful and resilient people. Somehow cheerful in the face of so much. Proud despite the dark cloud that hangs over their recent history. Hopeful. If this is sounding too cute, so be it. I am entitled I think. Phnom Penh is certainly sobering on one level. We visited Tual Sleng (S-21) and the Killing Fields. Bottom line: absolute ideology, however misguided or genuine should not be trusted. The excesses that inevitably arrive in its wake are never very pleasant be it Khmer Rouge, Cultural Revolution, Shining Path (hmm stop me if you like Maoism). Anyway, beside that it seems to be a city on the rise. Worth a visit and nowhere near as dangerous as something like wikitravel would have you believe.

Siem Reap is another world really. Almost not part of Cambodia, although the Angkor Temples are certainly the jewels of national pride and rightfully so. The nightlife is excellent, food is amazing and yeah the temples are worth seeing, although I have some intellectual reservations about that as well (I will wait on the archaeology debate for later). Trevor departed from Siem Reap,, and I was glad to get an email from him this morning telling me that it is currently blizzarding in Swillbrook NY. Stay warm Mr. McRo.

There is not much more to say here that I won't want to say in more detail later so I will leave with a tally of sorts

Cameras broken: 2
Phones lost: 1
glasses stolen: 1
money I misplaced: just 50 singapore dollars 3 months ago
disc tournys: 3
people I met that I liked: too many
people I met that I disliked: 5
career paths considered: at least 3
times I was scammed: too numerous to count
shoulder straps torn: 1
amount of noodles I ate: enough that I am fat again
new tattoos: 1
new stamps in my passport: 20 stamps/5 full-page visas
new pages in my passport: 24
best beer consumed in quantity: Beer Lao
best beer consumed: Murray's Anniversary Ale
t-shirts "won" due to alcohol consumption: 2

So, I hope you have enjoyed and I hope you will continue to enjoy as I make my way back to Korea and beyond. I think that Burma and Mongolia are the next places on my list. And please, if you have any desire to come visit I hope you will (see my later post on the carpenter we met). You are more than welcome in Seoul and anywhere else you may want to go I imagine I will be glad to join. Asia is a great adventure, and everyone says its gonna be an Asian century so you might as well see what the hype is about.

palabra.

Saigon Second Time Round

After the Bangkok airport crisis (trying to sound like some 24 hour news program here) prevented a return to Thailand from Manila, tickets were changed to end up in Saigon. I am very glad that it worked out that way. HCMC seems to me to have a vibrancy and friendliness that was just much harder to discover in Bangkok. Believe me I spent hours upon hours scouring the streets of Bangkok, but after a while the blocks full of used car stereos just made things less charming. I admit that travel nor my aims are always about charm or what is easiest, but when you can get charm along with a sense of energy, movement and difference I will opt for the latter.

I have seen possibly a million motorcycles in the last 5 days, heard people talking in tones that I didn't know existed, eaten some exceptionally fresh food and met some great people here in Saigon (and this is my second time here). The beer is fresh, things are cheap. I dunno, this is probably the most personal writing I may do on this trip. Not that you are going to see the inner workings. Merely that I can't help but be gushing about this place. I have run into any number of people over the last three months that have had plenty of bad things to say about the country. I just don't see it. I suppose I can understand (now I am going to go back into discourse mode):

Many people I have met assume that all of South East Asia is populated by these charming individuals who want to do nothing more than smile at you, where everything costs a dollar and every place you go is populated by a tourist industry that speaks good English (Thailand). Vietnam is certainly none of those things. People are not unhappy, just the opposite, but from where I stand it seems that they are much more caught up in their own lives. As people may or may not know Vietnam is on the road to being a middle income country in less than 15 years time. The economy is soaring. Things move a hundred miles a minute. There is a reckless sense of joyful lawlessness as you cross the streets. The psyche of the people has certainly been profoundly affected by colonialism, wars with China, France and the United States; a closed society and every other thing you could imagine a nominally communist state dealing with in the past 40 years. But still there is something cheerful and different about this place. (The Philippines had a similar vibe)

I am not trying to make excuses. People have bad times places. But I think that many of the expectations for what Vietnam is are merely unrealistic. It does not rely primarily on tourism. There is very little English spoken and less written. It is just not as easy a travel destination. This in the heart of one of the most traveled regions of the world. As I have heard so often from casual conversations on the streets of this region to intimate conversations I have been involved in over dinner Vietnam is lacking "authenticity". This immediately hearkens me back to my university days. What the hell is authenticity anyway? More likely what these people are referring to is the fetishization or romanticizing of a country, people, culture or region. Not to go all Said on people, but that is entirely unrealistic and lacks the understanding of what culture is and how it works. The interplay and connections between the east and west are too often blurred by our desires to experience a certain thing that we have built up in our own minds. I caution anyone from carrying any preconceptions into any other country be it England or Argentina, India or Uzbekistan. Yes, you can want the place to be beautiful. Have good food. Be a place you can enjoy. But you cannot assume because a people or region doesn't live up to what you thought it would be that it should be automatically relegated to the dust heap. Authenticity exists without that fetishizing. It exists because people live their lives. That is authentic enough.

So to get back to me gushing, I like Vietnam a lot. There is plenty here to offer and especially to someone who is from America. I went and saw the war remnants museum and the Cu Chi tunnels. Both fascinating things, but will be left for another essay I am preparing. In any event my trip will soon take me into the heart of the Mekong, Phu Quoc island and then into Cambodia for the last leg of my trip. Wish me luck.

Memory Part 2

As for reasons to all this there are plenty offered, several of which I will outline, but I find them all lacking a certain ability to explain the situation to its utmost. This is especially in light of the way other people's in the world have dealt with such issues.

1. in Cambodia or Vietnam an enormous part of the population was born post-1975 and in the case of Cambodia even later. This allows for history to have directly escaped the experience of well over 50% of the population. The hard felt memories simply are not present in the people therefore anger or resentment is much less readily felt. This takes an interesting twist in a place like Laos where there was never even a declaration of bombing occurring. Cambodia at least got that much.

2. American cultural/economic hegemony (ah that favorite word) is such a powerful influence felt across the world. Due to such hegemony many of the populations that would otherwise be critical are undercut on multiple fronts. Younger generations look to the west and particularly America with adoration. They want to copy whatever it is that is happening in those parts of the world. Whether it be fashion, food, lifestyle etc. This isn't to say that wanting a McDonald's on every corner is the wish of every 15 year old. Far from it, I bet there is some serious questioning going on on that regard. However, it happens. Mtv is broadcast around the known world, everyone in China knows who Kobe is and a whole litany of other things egregious or not. In addition to cultural hegemony the economic pressures coming out of the west are manifold. Liberalize the economy, embrace unbridled capitalism, god as mammon and the like. Those pressures certainly run as deep as the cultural ones.

3. More like a 2b. but the governments of many of these countries (Vietnam, Peru, El Salvador, The Philippines) are under tremendous pressure to fall in line with countries like the US in order to reap economic benefits that are hung like carrots in front of these countries. They us the examples of South Korea and Japan as evidence that they too can have the wealth that east Asia possesses. This, however, is more outside my realm. Read some Naomi Klein etc. if you want to get a better picture insight into these issues. But there is also lots of political pressure on the parts of places such as the US to have a place such as Vietnam not make a big deal out of the American War for fear of a cooling of relations, which most countries cannot bear to deal with in this day and age.

4. Cultural capacities that I just don't understand coming from a country that has never really had to hold much resentment...

5. A huge reliance on tourism that would prevent public sentiment being too outrageous.

Now, I am sure there are a multitude of additional reasons why such places are constrained against resentment and a ask that you include any thoughts you may have in the comments. It would be great in order to better understand. As for me, I still come back to the unique differences between the Asians of the far East and those of South East Asia. Both have had experiences of brutality at the hands of an Imperial (in the traditional or more post-colonial sense of the word) powers. But in the case of Korea or China as my friend Mike pointed out in the comments, there seems to be an overwhelming resentment that continues to this day. I experienced so little of that in Laos or Vietnam or Philippines. As I pointed out in #5 this would be the most believable reason why I would not experience the anger toward me as an American. Whereas Korea is prosperous enough and does not rely on tourism to fuel its economy they can harbor whatever feelings they want about anyone, Japan included, Vietnamese or Cambodians have no such luxury.

Understandably this is rambling and I began this whole discussion by saying I need to be at home where I can do some serious research into the subject. But it is food for thought so to speak


I am in Manila, Philippines right now. After losing in the finals of Manila Spirits to team Philippines I went south to the island paradise (apt description for this place) of Boracay to spend a week on beaches most likely with a significant content of cocaine and water that is made of liquid jade. There was much drinking and rejoicing. Yaaaay. I would be writing this from Bangkok, but if you have kept up with the political tensions there that was not possible. So, plans have been made. Head to northern Luzon for a few days, then depart Manila for my second time to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh city for those of you who want to find flights there).

Memory Part 1

This has much less to do with any memories I created and only tangentially to do with my own travels. Instead, as I have traveled through so many countries that have experienced the long arm of colonialism, imperialism (both militarily and economically), large scale violence and isolation by the west a question that seems to return to me is; where is the resentment? This was a pressing question that I had as an American entering Vietnam last year and a similar one was turning around in my head as I traveled through Laos. I imagine I will question this when I am in the Philippines where American "advisors" still struggle with Islamic separatist movements and in Cambodia where Richard Nixon waged the sideshow as the US was supposedly cooling down in Vietnam. However, no doubt you have read your history and if not it is pretty easy to bone up a bit.

What I want to discuss however, is not the history itself, but the aftermath of those historical events. My mind has been especially colored by the rich cultural and historical perils that Korea is fraught with in re its neighbors and especially Japan. This comparison or questions about the differences in cultures even within Asia will return later. For now though

Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia especially experienced some of the most horrific and many times un-reported treatment from the US. In the US at least it is a little known fact that Laos has the dubious honor of being the most bombed country in the history of warfare. Something like 500,000 pieces of ordnance were dropped on the country, destroying whol villages, eradicating any infrastructure that existed. Essentially what people would popularly term bombing them back to the stone age. A pleasant concept indeed. The history of Vietnam is far more transparent to the west and especially Americans, but is no less tragic. Napalm, agent orange, carpet bombing etc. followed by years of economic isolation by the American government.

Yet, through all this I have found little resentment, or even dwelling on the issue. I was able to talk very frankly with a Laotion in Vientiane who recalls quite clearly the struggle between tribes armed by the CIA, the Pathet Lao and the ordinary people caught in between. He talked about the tremendous bombing campaigns, political killings, insurgency. Yet, with full knowledge of who was responsible for this, and with the full knowledge that he was discussing it with an American, my nationality did not figure into it at all. There was no accusations, no resentment. Nothing that would resemble the anger that I would think would be there. When I was in Vietnam last year I was very concerned (despite people telling me to the contrary that it would be fine) that my Americaness would have some sort of negative impact on my travels. This was never the case.

Allow me to contrast this with the great tragedy that struck China and Korea at the hands of Japanese colonialism in the early 20th century. The Rape of Nanking certainly stands out, but no less problematic was the comfort women of Korea, the puppet state of Manchukuo, or the wide scale cultural rape that occured at the hands of the Japanese (as an aside I am not writing this to place blame or demonize Japan etc. merely exploring the historical relevance of the situations. Japan must face these problems as a nation which they have overwhelmingly failed to do so at this point, but again become relevant later in re:the US). In Korea, certainly, there are widely held beliefs that the Japanese are not to be trusted, that they would do again the things that they perpetrated in the 20th century (I find that very unlikely), and seemingly small matters like the Liancourt Rocks can get Koreans flying off the wall about how terrible the Japanese are as a race. That they can never be forgiven for the things they did. This is not even endemic among merely the old. I have met many young Koreans who have similar feelings.

I cannot speak with much accuracy to much of the rest of the world (this will have to wait for when I can do proper research in a few months) but I have no doubt that the issues surrounding Algeria and France, Armenia and Turkey, former Yugoslav countries, any host of Latin American countries, etc. there are similar problems or lack there of in re: SE Asia. What I will attempt to do in my next entry is to offer some possible answers to why the cultures of SE Asia have distinguished themselves as not having allowed themselves to dwell on that past. A heady task indeed.

From the North

I have been quite reticent in my writing recently. Excuses being numerous, but the one I am going to pick is hellishly long bus rides, followed closely by cheap bottles of what might not pass for whiskey in many parts of the world... I digress.

Travels have taken us from the quiet colonial streets of Vientiane to the quite colonial streets of Luang Prabang and now to the noticeably busier streets of Chiang Mai, Thailand. The journey through northern Laos was truly epic. The buses were an adventure I would recommend only for those that have no love of their fillings or their temporary sanity. But it was amusing nonetheless. The ride from Vientiane north was not so bad, just quite windy as we got into the mountains. It was not easy to sit without being tossed from side to side. I am positive I experienced g-force in some of the turns.

Luang Prabang was a charmer to say the least. The kind of place UNESCO certainly creams over. Monks with umbrellas. Old French buildings. The bends of two rivers to laze by. A quaint night market. Karst topography. The list of sort of superlatives could go on and on. It was a nice place to while away a few days and was certainly similar to my visit to Hoi An in central Viet Nam. The place was probably a little too quaint for my tastes. Something I am sure I would like to go back to when I am older. Kinda the pace and outfitted for the middle aged, more moneyed crowd oh holiday. However, it did give me a nice glimpse into Northern Laos and I am certain I will make it a point to visit the region again. Probably devote a whole month to the north if possible. I think I am merely in love with the idea of the Mekong region. Inspires some sort of romance. I am sure Edward Said is now turning in his grave. This could easily bog down in a digression about "authenticity" again, but I will resist the urge.

The bus ride from Luang Prabang to the Huay Xai/Chiang Khong border was possibly the most amazing thing ever. I was never really aware of how important a proper infrastructure is to a country's development. Precious me living in a nice place like the US where my family makes the conscious choice to own a house accessed by a road that washes out all the time. Not so for those living in Northern Laos. The choice is not a choice at all. Your roads will suck. There were long stretches of road where I was unable to hold a coherent thought in my head because the potholes were so numerous. That coupled with the obvious lack of suspension in the bus. Also, I ate cat. Didn't mean to, but I pulled a full cat's foot out of my mouth. Still had its pads and half retracted claw. Don't ask.

I will spare you any more details of what was basically a lot of monotony from the border to Chiang Mai. I am now in Chiang Mai soaking up the northern culture. It is a great change of pace from the seething mass of Bangkok. Wats. Monks. Tuk-tuks. But all with some nice seasonal flavor. Showed up on the last day of Loi Krathong so it was almost too good to be true to get to a bus station, after dark, full moon, hop on the back of a motorcycle and look up to see constellations of lanterns ascending into the night sky.

I have a lot of more detailed things I want to discuss, but I will leave that for later. Of a side-note those of you wanting more pictures will have to wait. I dropped my digital camera in a stream in Laos. As you might imagine that was not good for it. I don't think it works, but I will investigate that further when I get less lazy. I have my film camera so that will more than do for now. Just be patient.

Laos and intimations on mortality (from abroad)

Apologies to Wordsworth for the gross bastardization of his title, but it somewhat fit the spot. I will get to the second part of the title presently, but to begin with I am now in Vientiane, the quaint and charming capital of Laos. The shock of being here after departing from the North East bus station of Bangkok alone is enough to send you reeling. Chickens on the streets. Unpaved roads. Three currencies. 2300 curfew! Quite the difference from the up-all-nightness of Asia that I am used to. However, I will say that I could easily get used to this life. Perhaps it is the slow creep of age talking, but going to bed early. Up with the sun. Nothing more sophisticated or hectic than a Beer Lao while the sun goes down over the Mekong. Surely Graham Greene has already written about this somewhere.--side note Beer Lao is truly the king of Asian macro-lagers. There is actual flavor that appears in a quaff--Vientiane gives me the same feeling (in part) that being on the Gilis provided. It would be easy to stay here for a long time. Indeed I have met plenty of people who seem like that is their plan. But unlike the Gilis, which seemed rooted in escapism and hedonism, Vientiane seems rooted much more firmly in the daily rhythm of life. Indeed a more suitable feeling for someone with my aspirations (or lack there of) and tastes.

I suppose that is enough of an endorsement of Vientiane. And, while I haven't been elsewhere yet, I imagine most of Laos will exude a similar vibe. A place where I can concentrate on my reading (I have made it further through Gravity's Rainbow than my father), the wonderful scenery. Colonial architecture, which I love. Have nice chats with robe-clad monks who masquerade as English teachers etc. Good. I am sure the tourist board of Laos will mail me my check soon enough...

As for the explanation and subsequent disection of the latter half of the title: a high school friend of mine died suddenly of a heart attack en route to Bogota earlier this week. This is not meant to be a pity party or anything of the like. To come clean up front I did not even know him very well. A very nice guy. Friends with some of my good friends and the like. But, especially coming from a boarding school, people are all so connected and the community so small that something like this surely reverberates quite noticably among my friends.

However, that is not the angle I am going to take for this ponder. More this throws into light a very interesting aspect of the life that I have since chosen for myself. I cannot even come close to claiming that were I living in the states this event would have changed at all etc. What it places in relief for me is that there is a certain level of consciously chosen disconnect I have allowed into my life. Funerals aside there are plenty more events in life that I have relegated almost to a past life. Weddings also spring to mind. I have neither the time nor the money to up and head home and as I approach my late 20s no doubt such a temptation will occur far more frequently. Even more basic than that I have not seen my family for almost 20 months. An amazing feat considering I probably went at the longest span 2.5 months in the first 24 years of my life without being with my parents or my brother. Does this mean they are no longer important? I would venture, with great certainty, no. That is not the case. I suppose in my mind I have made a choice to explore something different at the expense of certain things. Sometimes this expense can be great or sometimes quite trivial (drinking a Smuttynose IPA springs to mind as a trivial matter). But this is my choice. Probably the most American of my traits. No doubt fierce individualism will take more than a generation to breed out, if indeed that is what I or anyone else wants to do. But it remains a fact. My life. My choices. This indeed is not the same as some of my friends. I make no claims to know their motivations. Be it filial loyalty. A sense of social obligation. A need to return to familiar (not that the familiar can't be found almost anywhere in the world).

To be sure, and this should not be understated, it is with great sadness always that the news of the loss of life should be accepted. Whether it be from close or from far. A person close to you or distant (although it is more difficult to mourn directly those you did not know). It should also be accepted with thoughtfulness. And I think more so that than sadness. Grief, for those who the loss was not the greatest, serves no purpose as to the memory of those loss. Rather, for me, it seems a time to reflect. To observe. To be immensely thankful for what you have. To make sure that when that time comes and like it or not it will eventually come for us all, that you are pleased with the life you have led. I cannot be 8,000 miles away for any number of things. Nor would I make the claim that I would want to for many things. But perhaps it is enough to state for the record that these events do not still touch me halfway around the world. Just the opposite they give me ever more reason to pause and reflect.

To end I will provide some seemingly fitting lines from William Wordsworth's poem Intimations of Immortality From Recollections of Early Childhood

We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind

Bangkok

I remember when I was younger kids used to play that idiotic joke where they would ask you what the capital of Thailand was, and unless you were savvy or had heard the joke before, the result was always Bangkok! to the tune of some O'Doyle-like clown putting his knee into your groin. The height of hilarity, really. For the longest time I wasn't even convinced that the capital of Thailand, which I could have located on a map only after some difficulty (my South East Asia geography was always dominated by Vietnam as I am sure were many children of baby boomers), could actually coincide with such a dumb and relatively cruel joke. True enough though the Thais seemed to have such a capital. As I grew older Bangkok took on a much different quality in my imagination. One dominated by things like sex-tourism*, modern slavery, gateway to paradise, a place who's seedy underbelly was actually on display.

By the time I left university Bangkok, and indeed Thailand were, in my mind, the tourist destinations of SE Asia. You could hear people talk about their graduation gift of round the world tickets etc. replete with a lengthy hold-over in Thailand. When I arrived in Korea, talk such as this intensified. Flights there are cheap. So much to do. The food is amazing. At this point I was of two minds; 1. I have to see it to believe it 2. it probably fuels my worst nightmare about what tourism is therefore I will also want to escape it as soon as possible.

Well, I'm here. I think that perhaps my vision was colored too much by certain cultural references that are fiction. It can be tough to seperate the two. Bangkok is a fascinating place though. Perhaps I am seeing a slightly different persepctive because I am not staying on Th Khao San. If I were there perhaps I would hate my fellow man more (though I doubt that would be the case) and see a very different picture of Bangkok and a very different introduction of Thailand in general. In any event I am staying in Bangrak in the south part of the city with my friend Aeoy, who has been an amazing host.

I will take the rest of this entry to merely run down the things I have found so far. More intellectual musings can remain for another day. The food is great. Having a Thai friend who knows the city really well helps. I have been to a number of places I just never would have found without her help. Every meal I have had has been great. If you want descriptions I am sure I could not do it justice. American Thai food is a decent rendition of a very small percentage of Thai food. The flavors are on the whole light, quite spicy and suprisingly refreshing. Most food doesn't reinvigorate me so that is a pleasant surprise. The city itself is cool. Sprawling, seething, charged full of energy. It certainly doesn't sleep much. With the advent of a rapid transit system# it is sure to get even better and definitely more travel friendly for those of us beholden to public transport (read: those who still don't have their licenses). The sites are quite nice too. The river is beautiful at night and taking a river taxi is a great way to see the city. The Wats are all über ornate, saffron colored monks are a nice photo piece, the malls are nuts, the new city art gallery was quite nice (Guggenheim-esque). Basically good times are had. I have plenty more to say, but I think I will leave as is for now. Gotta pack up before we head to Nong Khai and then to Laos.


*more on this in a future entry
#I want to write a coffee table book on metros/subways/whatever you call them

Malaysia, truly Asia?

If by truly Asia, you mean boring and dour. At least that is what Kuala Lumpur struck me as. I believe I had my first wow I'm in Delaware moment. KL sucked:

pros: food. it is simply amazing. I'd like to see Singapore and KL slug it out in kitchen stadium over the right to say who has better food from the Malay, Straits Chinese and Indian categories.

cons: just about everything else. Cab drivers are jerks. No one smiles (probably because they are all gritting their teeth at their maker for the cruel joke being played on them by habitating KL). It is impossible to walk anywhere. Sidewalks disappear. Enormous boulevards makes crossing streets life-threatening. Beer is absurdly expensive (yeah yeah I know it is a Muslim country, but I still count it as a fault). The best way I think I could describe Kuala Lumpur is through the following anecdote;

Trevor and I finally found a place that served decent beer and was somewhate welcoming. It was a German run bar and we sat and watched a football match and hoped to soak ourselves enough to get to the next day without jumping in front of traffic. A eldery Scotsman wandered over to see the score. We got to talking. He informed us that after a number of years living abroad (Paris, Düsseldorf, Munich, Amsterdam, Kuching) he ended up retiring to KL. We asked him why? His reply, simply "bad luck." He had been in KL for 10 years and looked like he was one scotch away from ODing on sleeping pills and ending it all. Scots are not the most cheery bunch, but this guy had the air about him that life had finally beaten him using the city to do it. Majorly depressing.

Penang. A much better location. Still with that distinct aftertaste of "damn, I'm still in Malaysia" but a huge step up. The old city has retained much of its charm and the food yet again is great. But everything was still underwhelming. It was even the Diwali festival when we arrived and no one seemed to be doing anything. I did however get a nice film camera (lens included for less than $100 so hooray for that).

As a nice little personal story, after a long day, made longer by the agonizingly hot sun beer was in order. Lots of it. If you ever get the chance to drink Skol super beer a warning. It is super. Super potent. Anyway, Trevor and I were wandering back streets looking for something not too pricey and out of the way. Ta-dah! Place that advertised the aforementioned beer at a great price. All locals. Seemed good enough. Sat down outside and started ordering up beers. 2 bottles in I started to get the feeling this was something of a special establishment (the word motel in the sign should have tipped me off more quickly). I sounded this idea outloud. Agreement. Like clockword, mostly Indian men would stop look in quickly, if they liked whatever it was they saw in they would pop for 15 minutes or so. Yeah. Brothel. Good times. We chatted with this guy who described why Malaysians like marijuana so much (it has to do with being able to eat rice easier, taking showers, and laughing at other people). He then confirmed that indeed the place was a whore house. I actually had a nice little chat with several of the ladies-of-the-evening when I was inside using the bathroom. They were all quite nice and one even proposed to me. All in all it was a highly amusing night. Too many beers later it was off to get night market fare and wallow in the sultry evening of Georgetown.

Tana Toraja II

I started writing this post a few days ago, had to leave it in order to get on a 20 hour train ride from Penang to Bangkok. Upon revisiting what I had saved, I decided I was quite unsatisfied with my writing. The wonders of doing all this online is my ability to revise, rewrite etc. So I present to you in a far different format what I tried more eloquently (read: poetically which never fares well) to put forth a few days prior.

Trevor and I went trekking in north-western Tana Toraja. We saw plenty of beautiful things. Stayed with a wonderful family in a tiny village (they had just purchased a buffalo), did an absurd amount of walking. I leave the rest to your imagination or the pictures I can now provide. The place was quite special to me, but I think much of that was merely the experience of it and to try and recapture it by putting it to writing is akin to what my Buddhism professor Paul E. Mueller-Ortega referred to as "pulling the rug out from underneath the monk". Ponder that for a while.

The final thing of significance we did while sojourning in Toraja was visit a funeral ceremony. Now to fully appreciate these things I would venture a guess that you need a lot of gifts to give the family, and a ton of patience. They last for upwards of a week and whole days are nothing more than a roll call of the extended families that have traveled back to Toraja in order to be recognized in the ceremony. We attended one of these afforementioned days. It was steamy and getting bright after a brief, but torrential downpour. We were able to mill about in the enormously large and I would say opulant grounds that would most certainly turn the color of an abattoir nigh the week was out. But for today it remained a parade ground for the almost uncountable amount of relatives there to show their respect to the tau tau (effigy) of the deceased (a doctor I surmised after hearing a litany of people's names proceeded by Dr.). Buffalo, some costing upwards of 75 million ruppiah were paraded into the grounds. People dressed in all manner of colorful and a more western black mourning colors were rampant.

Now, here I would like to pause to digress in order for me to wonder what this ceremony is really about. Yes, it is a sacred (take note Eliade fans) and certainly an integral part of the fabric of Torajan culture. But at this point it is also a livelihood, through tourism, for the people of the region. As I noted in my writing from the event I am not at all surprised that such a delicate balance between preservation of culture and cultural pornography or the like is quite difficult. The event had its own viewing section for tourists (we did not sit there and a lucky thing too to be described later), if you pay enough to your guide or foist enough gifts on the family you will even be invited to join the ceremony if ever so briefly. Surely in a symbolic sense the ritual remains deeply meaningful, but I think that much of this is overshadowed by spectacle (I suppose some debt to DuBoard here, but not sure what). It is a mass of flash photography and general lack of participation or sincere knowledge of the ceremony itself. I daresay most people were there in the hopes of seeing some animals being killed (the Lonely Planet Indonesia description would make you think you were entering a Wes Craven film). I myself was ambivalent to the idea of witnessing mass slaughter. 40 water buffalo, 100+ giant pigs, a small dear and a golden calf looking thing. I think I was glad it turned out to be merely a day of paying respects.

But as I mentioned earlier we did not sit with the other tourists (not out of any snobbery or the like, but we were stuck on the other side when the ceremony started). Instead we smoked cloves and watched family after family parade up to the pavilion containing the tau tau. Why this was fortunate is that we did actually witness a slaughter, but one with a less spiritual purpose. Many of the pigs were going to be killed that day to feed the vast amounts of people (the meat, offal etc. is scooped into bamboo pipes to be smoked; called pa'piong). At one point we turned around to see that one of the pigs had died en route to wherever they were being kept. The men acted quickly, disemboweling the now dead pig and scooping all the viable parts into foraged bamboo tubes. We followed them down the the river backing up to the village where several fires we already going. Someone else had just killed a pig and was in the process of unceremoniously dumping the entire carcass onto the fire to burn the fur off. What a lovely smell. Cloves, as well as palm wine passed around helped ease the stench. A third group of people came down with a live pig. A boy much younger than me was handed what looked to be a dull and well worn knife. However, I was much mistaken in how easily a blade can enter flesh, and with a simple prick the knife went in to find the heart. The pig bled out quite quickly, but not without splatter and a fair bit of screaming (a totally inhuman sound if I have ever heard. No horror movie does such violent utterences true justice). The process was then repeated.

I do not recount this story to prove that somehow I received the authentic experience of a Torajan funeral, or even Torajan life in general. Such slaughter is no doubt mundane in such surroundings and life in general is mundane and in the case of the Torajans frought with poverty. In fact I am not quite sure at all why. Perhaps to muse over the notions of lost culture or what contact with outside people's means to such fragile communities. A forum given by the Harvard anthropoligist Wade Davis I attended springs to mind as does Baudrillard's musings about the cave paintings of Lascaux and his subsequent arguments about anthropology and the western desire to museumize things. An Adorno quote would be apropos

"The German word museal [museumlike] has unpleasant overtones. It describes objects to which the observer no longer has a vital relationship and which are in the process of dying. They owe their preservation more to historical respect than to the needs of the present. Museum and mausoleum are connected by more than phonetic association. Museums are the family sepulchres of works of art"

Anyway, all musings and the like aside (who's even reading this anyway? a question for another place I suppose) what follows is my overall impression of Indonesia.

The people were extremely welcoming. Friendly. Bali, where tourism is much more pronounced there were obviously more touts etc. but still the people were helpful and kind. Lombok more shaded to the latter and in Makassar people just seemed to be excited to say "hello" (many times the only word of English they knew. Bahasa Indoesia isn't too hard to learn and people loved me butchering the words I knew.). The food was pretty good. I would say I wasn't blown away by it, but it was cheap, filling and generally delcious if a bit uniform. One thing I could complain about all day long is how absurd fees are. I don't mean in a monetary sense, because the ruppiah is anything but a vibrant currency, but honestly having to pay just to enter a bus station that we already have tickets for seems taking it a bit too far. The weather was nice. The water, especially near Lombok was stunning. Shit, I'd go back to Indonesia is what I am trying to get at. I encourage all who may read this to do the same.

Tana Toraja

Although this is late in coming I hope you all will forgive me as the internet would have permitted me enough time to grow a beard as I waited to have blogspot load. In any event, from Georgetown Malaysia I am afforded a little more leeway to use the internet with ease. This will be something of a short recap of my time in the Toraja region of Sulawesi, Indonesia:

Trevor and I flew into Makassar (Ujung Pandang for you traditionalists) and were definitely struck with how much more this seemed to be Indonesia than Bali or Lombok seemed. This. of course, is not a big surprise considering the latter two regions are the Indonesian tourism capitals. However, when you are first struck with it full on it defintely produces a strange feeling. You really recognize your foreigness. Lots of stares, lots of "hellos", police trying to extract bribes out of you because you don't know any better. Anyway, to make a long story short, after booking tickets to KL for the following friday we were accosted by people wanting to send us on a nice tour of Toraja. Trevor and I had planned to check out Makassar for a day or two before heading up to the highlands. (Here I would like to note that living in Asia has probably made me unduly wary of people trying to sell me things. But for the second time I was proved wrong. The other being Chuseok last year in Incheon Chinatown, but that is for another time). The spiel seemed typical. Makassar sucks. You don't want to go there. Toraja is what you really want to see. We can have you on a bus in a few hours. $213/pax. Well that is an absurd price. After realizing they thought we were big spenders and us dissuading the tour guides of that notion (a/c, hot water, something called a hotel not necessary) we were able to knock down the price to roughly $150 for the two of us.

We did go do Makassar. It was a dump. Disaster averted.

Got on an overnight bus. It sucked. Long. Windy roads. Slow.

However, once in Toraja I think both Trevor and I were immediately struck with how relaxed and pastoral a place it was. Rolling fields, rice terraces, mountains disappearing into the early morning clouds, buffalo grazing lazily. We established ourselves at the Wisma Irama and slept off our shitty bus ride. After a nice breakfast we ventured out to check out what Rantepao had to offer (not much) and then ventured into the countryside. We spent the day on a nice ramble about the paddies and winding hills. Pictures were taken. Little kids surrounded us. Old men laughed at us.

(Here it is worth noting that I have met few people more friendly and welcoming than the Torajans. They are simply an amazingly wonderful group of people.)

The next day was spend with our tour guide Anton (a who book could be devoted to him. He is as I referred to him a "salty dog". One eye milked over. Trekked in plastic sandals etc.) who showed us the major cultural tourist spots of Toraja. Torajans have an amazing blend of animism and christianity. Their funeral rites are famous throughout the anthropology world and indeed in the 70s, anthropologists decended onto the highlands for Ph.D. dissertations. We saw hanging graves, baby graves, skulls and lots of buffalos. I will refer you to your own studies if you want to learn more about the culture.

The next day we agreed to go on a 2-day trek with Anton in the north-west of Toraja. That is where I will end my writing for now. Stay tuned for Toraja part deux as well as my overall recap of Indonesia and my scathing review of Kuala Lumpur (ugh).

Quick Note

I am alive and well and have made my way to Kuala Lumpur where I will spend probably just the weekend before heading up the coast to Penang or the like. This is, as the title would suggest, a quick note. I will have some sort of summary of Indonesia as a whole as well as pictures and an in depth description of Sulawesi (highly recommended is the short answer) in due time. Probably tomorrow morning before the bus north.

Until such time I wish everyone the best with whatever they happen to be doing.

Connections

I have finally extracted myself from the Gilis. A nice place, but not exactly a place I would want to stay for too much longer. Kinda like how it was fun to go to frat parties for your first week of university until you realized it was the same thing in a slightly different looking basement every night. It was a good time, don't get me wrong, but I am happy to be on my way again.

That being said on the ferry ride from Lombok last night I had some thoughts about the difference in connection/friendship while traveling. It is quite different from something that can be long term due to proximity for great amounts of time. To elaborate; I met some very interesting, outgoing, fascinated people in my time on the Gilis. As I had mentioned before, Trevor and I stayed with Bart. A Dutchman doing it up right before devoting his immediate, and probably distant future to off-shore engineering. A cool profession no doubt, and one he is excited to experience. We met Matthew. A serial traveler from French-Canadia. 3 Swedish girls; Maria, Martina and Beatrice. Ski instructors in the Alps... All of these people were great to hang out with. Far from boring. Could easily see myself becoming really close friends with any of them. Except... all of our plans, our geographic locations, times in our lives are so widely disparate. What does that mean about forging a connection of friendship with someone you know is going to be gone in a very observable amount of time?

Living in South Korea where the ex-pat turnover is quite high I have had to try to understand this already. There are a variety of schools of thought on the subject. I have a friend that won't worry about you if he knows you plan on being in Korea for a year or less. This may sound offensive, but far from it. On many levels it is quite practical. You cannot devote tremendous energy to forging a relationship withs someone who is self-professed to be transient. He's not gonna throw you under the bus or ignore you either. Just not going to make a terrible effort to become close to you. For myself, I suppose I am willing to devote my time to someone under the rather naive and romantic notion that I can keep up with people. Stay connected to them. No doubt with the power of communication that is at our disposal that becomes increasingly possible, but how strong is such a connection? I am probably fooling myself that all those people that move through my life are people I will ever see again or even really want to see again. Perhaps it will be the 10% rule that my father loves so much. If I can remain connected to 10% of those people my life will be richer. And in the long run that seems to make sense. I can conceivably make the effort to visit that ONE friend from Australia or Argentina that really stuck out and allow those others, while intense the relationship might have been at the time, to fade nicely into memory. A place where I can say "who was that guy who used to always do ___ when he was drunk?" and then spend the next 15 minutes reminiscing about some other tangential thing.

Will I see these people again? Possibly not. That also depends on their willingness. Matthew is probably moving to Korea so he is likely. I like Amsterdam so Bart perhaps. What of other people? Who knows. But at this moment maybe I'd rather just fool myself into believing that these connections were life lasting... And interestingly, as Bart and I discussed, with things like facebook** (how long until online social networking becomes a graduate school concentration?) there is less need to even remain in close contact with people. They are part of your vast social network. A person you can relegate to your database of places and people and if you ever find yourself in Anchorage or Vladivostok you can be sure that someone will be there to look up.

I am off to plan some bribe packages for my trip to Sulawesi. Never know when a small billfold of Lincolns and a bottle of Arak may come in handy in the hinterlands of Indonesia...

** speaking of facebook most of my pictures are there. If you are not friends with me or don't use facebook let me know and I will provide a link for you to view them.

Still on Gili T

It is quite hard indeed to leave certain places. Every once and a while I have trouble leaving my own apartment. Too comfortable. I'm too lazy. I know I can watch one more episode of Deadwood. It's raining. The Gilis are something similar to that. It is just quite easy to relax and allow the days to slip away when all you have to do is listen to the rhythm of the tides moving up and down the beach and smoke sheesha while looking for the Southern Cross (I am still not sure if I have seen it yet, but I think I have).

I have definitely become complacent in the last few days. Woken up when I wanted to (as long as the PA system of the neighboring mosque is on mute), gone snorkeling when I wanted to (sea turtles are really quite cool) gone to sleep on the beach when I want to (which is about 75% of the time) eaten plenty of noodles and even bananas! However, I am starting to feel the tug again. Wanting to get out beyond this little tourist/backpacker paradise. Although I am very content to spend significant amounts of time in a single place, this place can seem like watching reruns after a while.

So after today, it will be off to somewhere else (Makassar, or maybe Kalimantan or if ambitious onto Borneo in one hop). I don't think I will be sad to leave the place, but that lazing, relaxing person in me will probably feel a tinge of regret.

(untitled)

A feeling of falling off the face of the
world
the tide makes distance, length unappear
it is sheeting rain against the mountains
driving to ground the birds

혼자

soft reflection of the sea meets
smudge, meets cloud. Just errant
brush strokes, translucent, pale

the water ceaseless, unrelenting
sand scars copper skin

the tide is now so near

Padang Bai/Gili

Short note. The internet is slow. The keyboard sucks and frankly I'd rather be tossing the disc on the beach. Arrived in the Gilis yesterday from Bali (padang bai to be exact which is a quaint sort of fishing village. really laid back). A nice little place with turquoise water, white sand and coral, long boats perched picture-esque on the shore.

Staying with a Dutchman named Bart. Cool guy. A last hurrah before starting in earnest at Royal Dutch Shell. Met some Swedish girls. Very nice. All going to ski instruct in the Alps. Oh what charmed existences we all do lead...

I have an extensive piece to write about the traveler stare, but that will come later. Last night, however, an American (only the second I have encountered in the sea of Germans and Australians) tried to pick a fight with me. Apparently it isn't okay to make disparaging remarks about your own country. Americans in fact are all wonderful people and I should have some respect for it. Apparently he has never seen the hooked rug above my fire place at home. Oh well. Didn't dissuade me from my opinion.

As soon as the internet gets better I promise pictures.

be well (and pray for the Korean won)

Of interest... or not

Just some notes since I have a few minutes to while away before heading back to my 80,000 Rp a night abode.

Went on a little tour of the southern and eastern regions of Bali yesterday. It was a nice time although the vast majority of the trip was merely a way to tempt me to part with my money (which, unlike many of the tourists on Bali, is not of a limitless supply). However, it was cool to see some of the cottage industries of Bali at work. The painting is a little bland perhaps, but I was very much interested in the wood-carving. It is quite intricate and certainly still something that gets passed between generations, although that may change as schools arise to meet the needs of educating new craftsmen. Bali's tourist industry is now almost to pre-bombing levels so the demand for "authentic" Balinese art is also reaching those former levels. What I found most interesting is that a lot of the stuff produced in Bali is produced using materials that are not actually found on the island e.g. sandlewood or silver. If anyone wants to shed some light on that please do so.

As a sidenote to all that, I can certainly understand how touts and the like can get really grating on the nerves. They don't particularly bother me (must have been years of experience of deflecting telemarketers at dinner time) and there is also a certain inherent difficulty in the whole thing e.g. I am seen as someone with that aforementioned limitless supply of money. So it can be tough to differentiate between genuine kindness or welcoming and that of sale... However, word to those who decry it wholesale, faulting people for trying to sell you things is rather silly considering how often we don't complain when it is done in our lives, just not quite so in our faces (think adverts in magazines etc.)

As far as travel plans we met someone staying down the way from us who was giving good advice on getting to Lombok and then to the Gilis. We will probably make our way there within the next day.

The only other thing of note is I fear I am going to run out of reading quite quickly. I finished Passage To India in 2 days... (most of it this morning). I am onto the road, but 12 books might not be enough.

of final note, mea culpa for so few pictures so far as I just haven't gotten around to ridding my camera of its contents. Look for those within the week.

Musings on Myth

Back when I was in university the only stories I ever heard about Bali were from my friend Geoff. His uncle was one of the old-school surfers who helped to first carve out the expat surfer havens back in the 70s. The life was described as one where he would basically surf all day, shoot heroin and eat carrots. Nothing but carrots. He turned orange. Died of an OD. Kinda an epic life. South East Asian paradise. Extreme sports. Drugs. Cliche perhaps, but not a cliche as it happened. This of course colored my ideas of Bali and South East Asia in general (my friend Blair's experiences did the same for Viet Nam).

Anyway, such things receded into memory and only when I arrived in Korea did I entertain the thought that I too could go to Bali. I feel one does't so much think about things like that when one is busy grinding out days at the New York Public Library. Halfway around the world is quite literally what it sounds like and the only times I ever read about Indonesia were in Chomsky books about press coverage of the Indonesia/Timor L'este conflict.

When you think of these places, they take on an other worldly quality. Some far off place, full of lush jungle, blindingly white beaches, Hinduism-infused spirituality. Of course when you get to Asia this is all clouded over with people talking about how a place like Bali is rife with overweight tourists spending their Euros and never leaving their beach resorts. I suppose all those things are true and a whole bunch more as well. I thought long and hard on the short flight from Singapore to Denpasar about what it is to be searching for something. To want to carve out something in the world of travel to call your own. To resent others who somehow ruin it for you. No doubt many people have the same sentiments/concerns/fears about their attempt at a unique traipse across the world (be it Indonesia or Mozambique or your own neighborhood in whatever city you live in). I guess my conclusion is that people are in it together. You can be busy resenting all the other tourists or expats you find crass or somehow dampening your experiene of a place, but no doubt that is counter-productive and only allows you to dwell. Probably not a good thing. Leave that to the people who say things like I remember when the LES wasn't so gentrified blah blah blah. I'll take the experience where I can find it and carve out what I can for me. Even if that is in a sea of faces.

...Oh yeah, I'm in Sanur, Bali. Gonna relax on the beach for a day or two before heading inland to the art capital of Bali; Ubud on recommendations from both Dray and Candacee.

kopitiam crawl

So what is a "kopitiam crawl"? I am not sure I can properly translate it, but when looking it up wikipedia explains it thusly. Anyway, the version I experienced as somewhat different. Probably the appropriation of the word in order to blanket other activities under it. Basically, I went out with some friends of friends, visited a variety of eating establishments (eating being an establisment unto itself here in Singapore) sampled all sorts of food, drank big bottles of Tiger (sometimes with ice!) and had an amazingly enlightening discussion.

Diana, is a friend of my friend Uli. He suggested I meet up with her and so I did. Luckily this was going on so I wouldn't be alone lest she turn out to be someone a conversation was difficult with. My social akwardness fears were allayed immediately as I found Diana and her friends at an outside establishment on 25 Geylang just finishing a round of beers. I sat down, was introduced and got the typical shit out of the way, I went to this and this university, spent time here and here. Whatever. However, that was done all rather quickly. Turns out Diana lived in the same apartment in Oxford as my friend Sophie (who would join us later) and they both worked for the government. Diana's friend Jeff and his girlfriend Min-joo (hooray for Korean expats!) had met in London I believe and were now back working for a human rights/labor union organization and the military respectively. All right. Conversation will commence no doubt.

We moved on to another place. Bought more beers. Had some dishes there. I recal the carrot dish being quite tasty. Talked some more about living in Korea, Korean culture, the idiocy cum ignorance of foreigners living on the peninsula etc. Rehashing old stuff really. Sophie showed up, we ordered some more beers. Wondeful.

The final stop on this mini tour of Geylang was Indian food along the avenue between the even and odd streets (even streets being the red light district). We ordered up 10 pratas with some curry sauce and sugar on the side. There was a contentious moment because Diana believes that sugar allows you to get the full flavor of the curry. Jeff did not agree and decried such a notion as un-Singaporean. Either way it was good. (side-note: Indians are huge drinkers. There were dozens of men stumble down drunk on the streets conforming Jeff's-the brewer at the pump room- assertion about a micro market for the Indians of Singapore).

As we sat there I learned quite a good deal about what young Singaporeans (certainly privilaged ones) thought about the state of affairs in their own city state and the tenuous balance of culture, economics, human rights and democracy in South East Asia in general. You know- Modernity. Who owns it? (Jeff said no one), what does it mean? (long winded answer no matter who you ask), the dangers of the Caribbeanization of South East Asia (a 500 million strong Chinese middle class poses threats to the cultural progress of SEA) etc. I will refer you to his blog if you are more interested in his ideas (and I think you should be because they are excellent questions to be asking and ones that I understand very little about being only a glorified tourist in Asia. Then it was a serene walk back through the drizzle to Sophie's apartment.

All in all it was a good night until I woke up at 4:30 in the morning feeling horrible from too much grease mixed with cheap beer. Nothing like nausea and disorientation when the sun has yet to appear...

Monseigner Bone Arrives

This will be a quick note mostly to inform those that may care that my friend and now travel partner arrived in Singapore bleary eyed and a big plane shocked (if such a phrase exists) from his flight from JFK by way of Beijing. Good times no doubt, especially when air China wants to cheapskate on the booze.

Besides that there is only odds and ends to report. I will probably have two more entries about Singapore. One, as I promised, dealing with the beer. The other about a wonderful night I had with some friends of friends (thanks to Ulick William Burke for the introductions). It was an enlightening time and stimulating time and I was able to take part in an impromptu and intimate version of a "kopitiam crawl". More later.

Also, for those looking for pictures, they will come when I can unlazify myself from the steamy near-equitorial atmosphere. Just standing makes me sweat and want to sit in front of a fan. I wonder if that is what colonialists were like...

Singapore- The Land of Some Made Up Beast for Marketing

(disclaimer: this rambles)

So, I have been in Singapore now for 4 days or so. That is probably enough time to see everything of great note here. For one thing this is a minute place. One of only 3 "city-states" in the world although people who think that Vatican City is actually a city are a little weird. Secondly, there just isn't all that much to see here. I am staying to await the arrival of my friend Trevor and to go to the Singapore Beer Festival on Thursday night.

Singapore feels a very set-like. The construction, the run-down neighborhoods all have the feeling that someone built them from some kit. I think the best way I could describe this place is as adhering to a "mall" aesthetic. This is not surprising since so much of this city is dominated by huge malls and people have described to me that the most popular sport on the city is shopping. In addition things are creepily orderly which creates an even stranger feeling. I have to ask myself am I actually still in Asia? I imagine this type of law and order certainly creates a very different feeling on the way the world should be and the way it should look. Enough philosophizing though...

Over the weekend Singapore hosted the first F1 night street race. I have never watched car racing with anything other than very low-level contempt. It always seemed dumb to watch cars going around in circles. After this weekend my convictions on the subject are more hardened. Car racing is sheer stupidity. And it's also really fucking loud. Basically for the weekend anyone selling either apparel with Ferrari logos on it or encouraging middle aged Australian and European men to act like idiots made off like a bandit. My favorite Baudrillard book (yes I know I promised no more high handedness, I lied) talks about how people watched security training to protect the president of France because it implied that some great catastrophe COULD occur. Everyone was hoping that in the moment some horrific assassination would occur. I am convinced this is the only reason people could sit through 40 laps of sonic punishment. For the briefest glimpse of some disaster...

Oh well. I got to see most of downtown, about 5 different sprawling multi-level malls, ate a bunch of food. I will say, for all its sterility, Singapore has amazing food. Whether it is hawker stalls or some trendy fusion spot they certainly have a passion for all things comestible. I had dinner with my friend Jeff and some of Sophie's friends and friends of theirs etc. Seemed like generally nice people, perfectly fit for this city. We went to some place on Kandahar street and ate an amalgamation of Chinese, Thai, Malay food. It was pretty amazing.

Stay tuned, I'll probably have 1 more entry dealing with beer in Singapore before Trevor and I move on to wherever it is we go next (Borneo, Bali, Sumatra...)

Getting Out of 대한민국

I arrived in Singapore to begin my 3 month journey through South East Asia, but first I had to escape the clutches of officialdom in the land of morning calm. Oddly enough, it was much easier than I thought. As plenty of people probably know my visa situation was none too clear, nor legal in the last 8 months or so. This was not a problem while my ersatz visa functioned. However, due to my incompetency I was two months tardy in leaving the country. To compound matters I lost my wallet with my ARC a while back. This became the sticking point when I arrived at Incheon.

I made sure to get to the airport nice and early, exchanged my ill-gotten-gains for T/Cs and stood in the ticketing queue for too long. When the booths finally opened I was one of the first to try to get a ticket. Unfortunately the ticketing lady was far more diligent than any immigration officer I have encountered. She made quick work of my expired visa and surmised I had no ARC within seconds. From there it was icy glares from others in line while I held it up with what was sure to be a bureaucratic ordeal. After I explained my situation, I was escorted to the immigration office. I pled my case again, but I am sure that whatever the Sing Air lady said was all that really mattered since my Korean is definitely not up to the level of explaining things inside the state apparatus... After 20 minutes of waiting, having my passport handed off to the manager, and some other dude who frankly looked like an assassin (not the Vin Diesel bullshit assassin, more like Brother Mouzone from the Wire. Totally together, proper, bit of an egghead, but obviously slightly off-kilter) I started to sweat a bit. I could understand enough Korean to hear a lot of numbers for fines being bandied about. I wonder if I made a break for it they would actually shoot me... After more minutes of the immigration lady trying to get her printer to work I was presented with several papers to sign. Glad they were translated for me... for all I know I confessed to assisting in an attempted Japanese invasion of Dok-do... several official looking stamps in my passport later and I am being escorted back to get my ticket.

Do you have a return ticket?... No... You need a return ticket to enter Singapore... Oh, well I was unaware... We can't give you the ticket... Yes, you can... Please go speak to the manager...
I did. I had to sign more paper work promising that Singapore Air was not responsible for me getting turned away from entering Singapore. I was only allowed to sign this after I revealed how much money I was traveling with.

6 hours, several triple shots of Johnny Red, some quaility in-flight entertainment later I am at Changi International Airport, immigration card in hand, no evidence of a plan to depart. The lady at immigration takes one look at me, tears the immigration card stub, stamps my passport and doesn't even wish me a good night. Huzzahs for the tedium of bureaucracy! My trip has begun.