Thursday, July 26, 2007

Hong Kong Fuey!

............................................................................................................At long last, jungle boy writes again. At least that's how Kenny Chow refers to me, and how he introduces me as well for that matter. Thanks Kenny. I arrived in Hong Kong via the night bus from Yangshao (12 hrs) on May 23rd, over two months ago! Said bus ride was the worse night of my life, and I swear I will never take a night bus to Hong Kong again. To begin with, the so called bed I was promised was on a slant, and not long enough. This was compounded by the fact that at the end of what was effectively a slide, was an ingeniously fashioned torture device I will dub the toe pinch. See, in order to cram more sardines into this tin can, the beds were over-lapped utilizing a plastic foot pincher that doubled as a foot cozy for the person behind, and a head rest for the person in front. This diamond hard plastic is molded into a wave shape in section, producing a convex 'back breaker' on one side, and leaving a convex curve that plots its way to an infinitely small, we're talking calculus small point between the floor at ones feet. This is where our friend gravity takes over. When I first prostrated myself on the 'bed', I found that with the right positioning and a bit of zen focus, I could utilize friction to keep myself stable in a aggravatingly close to comfortable hell. This hell turned to, 'Oh my God, I'll tell you whatever you want to hear' torture once the bus revved up its nuclear powered engines. Powerless to stop it, this shaking overwhelmed my feeble 'friction' powers, and I spent the rest of the night sliding with all my fat ass American weight into the toe pinch, readjusting, then sliding again. After a few hours, I said to myself, 'Self, it can't get any worse, right?' That's precisely when it did. As is often the case in Asian bus journeys, the driver, usually a 13 year old punk ass, will have a co-pilot. This person, usually an older, slightly lazier version of punk ass, serves a vital combination of roles, but who knows if he gets paid for any of them? He is firstly there as comic relief to the driver, which can be put better as making sure the driver is doubled over laughing and NOT watching the road as he pulls a pass up hill around a blind corner honking the horn (which I find helpful to sleep). Other roles include but are not limited to traveling salesman, hot chick spotter, hot chick holar-er, hostage negotiator, ebay entrepreneur, and bodyguard. Did I mention this person is usually drunk. On this harrowing night, the copilot was an especially fat and lazy one, even I could tell he wasn't funny. At the moment I resolved to grit and bear a sleepless night of pain without despairing, is when fat boy decided to come back in the aisle looking for a place to sleep, on the floor. You guessed it, right next to me. Now my bed was a good 2 inches above the floor, so its not like we were sleeping together.... but we were. Getting snuggled, as nice as it can be on a cold and windy night, did not help my newly found resolve. The straw that broke the camels back was when the flatulence started. I despaired. Then he thankfully rolled over to bombard the fella across the 14 inch aisle, and started wheezing in my face. This guy's breath could strip paint, and I sat there wishing to die. I covered my head with my shirt like a scared turtle, and debated whether to ask the bus driver to let me out in the middle of God knows where, or to take my scuba knife to my wrist. That's when, in a moment of inspiration, and without the aid of his copilot, the driver decided to take what I believe to be the shortcut down the stairs of a mountain. The pinching intensified, and my entire upper body was bouncing up and down on the titanium bed on which I layed. I think this eventually knocked me out, thankfully. When we arrived in Guangzhou, (Canton), I awoke to sharp pain and swelling around one of my ribs, and a bruised ego, copilot had ditched me to spoon the guy from Barcelona across the aisle. I was planning on staying about a week with my friend from San Francisco Kenny, and his wife Liz, who had moved to the fragrant harbor a while back, but I was destined to spend a month there, the whole time nursing a broken rib.
Hong Kong is a great city, like nowhere else in the world. Part China, part England, but mostly Cantonese, it defies classification. The harbor, the busiest in the world for the last century, is beautiful but its days are numbered. Pressure to fill it in for more realestate has already changed it substantially. I arrived at the doorstep of the San Francisco Towers to find Kenny, Liz, and Lu Lu, their incredible dog. I must have looked a mess, I'm surprised they let me in. They did however, and we spent the next day sweating on the other side of the island. This was a theme that would continue. Without a doubt, Hong Kong in June is THE most miserable, humid pressure cooker of a city I have ever been in. You simply CAN NOT go outside. You better have a back-up air conditioner too, or your living will written up. I can not stress this enough, it was crazy, even the locals admit it.
With this in mind, I decided to get a job and stay a while longer. I was lucky enough to have a connection to a nice guy who owns a Landscape Architecture firm in Hong Kong, and he agreed to hire me on for two weeks. This was great because I was running low on money, and they had great air con in the office. It was also a great opportunity to work on Macau Studio City, a multi-billion dollar venture including a casino, three hotels, a shopping mall, five swimming pools AND a roller coaster planned to rival the London Wheel in size. My job was to lead the design effort and coordinate the multi-cultural staff. Easy! I put in a good effort, and enjoyed my time there, but was also reminded of how fucking great it is not to work, so I counted down the days till I was to leave. It was great to see Kenny and Liz in their new setting, and I was there for her 30th birthday party as well!
I worked up until the VERY last moment the day I was flying out to London. I said my goodbye's, stole a pen, and was out of there. I did catch my plane, and the flight was fine, much better then a night bus in fact, but as always, I couldn't sleep, which might partially explain what was to happen next.
To be continued....

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Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Welcome To The China Club

.............................................................................................China, the source of Eastern civilization and culture, the bastard child of Communism and Capitalism, a modern day economic revolution. With the Olympics one year away, (they are literally counting down the seconds), the Chinese are readying themselves for a showcase to the world. Three and a half weeks is a short time to even begin to unpeel this onion, but here goes. -Chinese sit in very small chairs -Chinese babies don't wear diapers, they just have slits in the back of their pants so the "accident" occurs on the street, bus, lobby, but not in the pants. -Chinese will eat anything -Chinese talk real, real loud -Chinese make lots of bodily noises, a symphony of belches, farts, snorting, and spitting. -The hard seat car isn't all that hard, but the back is uncomfortably vertical. -Very few Chinese speak English, but they love to yell, "Hello!", and then giggle. -There are lots of hunched over little old ladies. -Chinese people can sleep anywhere, at anytime, and do. -In the most beautiful, serene wilderness areas or parks, they will set up loudspeakers and blair horrid Chinese pop songs. -They have one love song that plays everywhere, including my head, even a month later. -Mohawks are in this year. -Smoke anywhere you want, go ahead, lite up. -They HATE coach Van Gundy. -If you get hot, just pull up your shirt man, air out the buddah. -Internet is dodgy, till you find the gaming lounges, which are fast and cheap($0.5/hour) and full of Chinese video addict zombies. -Lots of bad teeth and hairy moles. -the smells, oh the smells. -squat toilets baby, but at least they have a flush, unlike the bucket procedure in Laos, BUT no partitions, which is great for socializing! -Give a Chinese hiker an echo, and they will abuse it. OK OK, its cool but enough hollering! -Tai chi in the morn'n. -Construction everywhere, 24/7. Bamboo scaffolding is my favorite. -Pollution gives you head aches. -Chinese are generally kind of pushy and touchy feely. -They hate the sun like Dracula, more umbrellas in good weather than in bad. -Chines soap operas kick ass, very dramatic and cool soundtracks! Beijing On my last day in town, I was looking for an Internet cafe, one that wasn't closed for "Golden Week" , one of three holidays the Chinese get per year. The one at the hostel was closed, but I had been given some bad directions by the people at the desk, so was wondering around, probably looking a bit lost. That's when a crazy man hailed me, "Hey! You look lost buddy!" I look over to witness a older man, bald, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and construction boots, slumped at a rickety street side table, grinning maniacally at me. I said I was fine, but he beckoned me over. I was annoyed at his obnoxious tone and didn't want to back down, so I went over to him. With a wild look in his eye, Anthony introduced himself, I noticed many empty beer bottles in front of him, he was having a good breakfast. "Sit down, have a pot sticker!" He hollered for more pot stickers, and another beer in fluent Mandarin as I uneasily took a seat. Anthony was the spitting image of a starving, drunk, Humphrey Bogart, with a huge forehead, buck teeth, and gleaming eyes. He spoke with authority and conviction, he commanded attention. "You know, your a prime target for being taken advantage of." "Really?" I say, looking at myself as if I had a sign on my back, "You don't say?" "Well, you just walked by me three times in three minutes man, you have to think like a criminal to catch a criminal." I was quickly realizing how full of shit this hombre was, but he was entertaining. It turns out Anthony was from Holland, but had lived in Seattle for 14 years, and he was laying the advice down man. "Always look like you know where your going." and "Always eat, when you drink! Promise me that!" Then he exclaimed, "Would you rather have your leg, or your dick cut off?!" I thought for a bit, then replied my leg, knowing a lecture was coming. "WRONG!" Anthony joyfully declared. "Look!" To my utter dismay, this raving lunatic kicked back his chair and danced a little jig with a look of nirvana on his face. "Life is good! I live for $1 a day!" Then, as quickly as he had jumped up, his look darkened, and he scowled, making a violent slashing gesture at his crotch with his hand. "This here, means nothing, you have to enjoy the moment! In the end, this don't mean a thing!" I objected, having now had a few glasses of the Beijing Beer myself, and raised the issue of it being easy for him to say at his age, but I'm thinking I could dance just about as fine with a prosthetic leg, "...they are doing wonders with those things no-a-days!", I say. Anthony gets angry. "You know Ethan, and you can tell me to screw off, but in my opinion, your just fuckin around man. You need to get your ass out to Lhasa, its a whole different country. You'll see some stuff out there, that's just demonic!" I said I was actually thinking about it. "Great! Lets go get you a ticket right now!" He jumped up, a look of purpose on his face. "I know a good travel agent right down the street!" I regretfully informed him I had already booked my train to Xi an, but could head on from there. "Hey, want to see my place! Its great, a real shack, I pay $10 a month for it!" I probably looked dubious. "Don't worry Ethan, I don't have a homosexual tendency in my body." This is where the scam starts I was thinking. Then he declared, as if it had just occurred to him, "I have a WIFE! She's right in there!" He pointed in the dilapidated restaurant we were standing in front of. I politely declined, "I'm sure its quite nice." "No it isn't, its a hovel, it barely is room enough for a bed, but its all me and the misses need!", he said with a wink. I would have bet any amount of money that there was no misses Anthony, but then a Chinese woman emerged from the dark entry of the eatery, with a look of exasperation. "Here she is! Hey honey, this is Ethan, he's traveling the world, he's fucking around!" I smiled in agreement, we shook hands. I asked how long they had been married. "One wonderful year, hasn't it been honey?" The woman was shaking her head. "Actually, I was looking for an Internet place." I said. The wife said she new of one just around the block, real cheap. Anthony burst out that he would take me there! I said fine, and he led me down a narrow alley of shanty houses and clothes lines. "This, is REAL China." Anthony whispered, rubbing his hands together. We passed a couple guys playing cards in a door stoop, Anthony stopped to talk some kind of shit to them in Mandarin, he turned back to me giggling, but the two Chinese were not laughing. We round a sharp corner and come to a dead end. "This is our place! Now where's my key?" As Anthony fumbled through his shorts, I peeked into the window of the shack before me, sure enough, it was completely filled with a dirty mattrice. "This is all you need Ethan, no running water, no toilet, but it's shelter and cheap and I have no worries!" He danced another jig. That's when the wife ran up, very angry. "Why do you cause trouble?", she said. "Those are not good men, don't bother them!" Apparently, she had followed us down the alley. "She's just embarrassed by our place." Anthony said, but then mouthed to me never to get married. Anthony hugged his wife of one year, was hit with a revelation, "Internet!" he blurted, and we went and checked email.

Shaolin Shadow Boxing, and the Wu Tang Sword Style

American Kung Fu, yes, I am a legend in my own time. Ok, maybe not, but I did learn one move.

I decided after all the site seeing I had done in Beijing, that a more hands on experience was in order, and had read about the Shaolin Monks and their temple set in the holy Song Shan, the mountains at the center of the Taoist world. The opportunity to get some exercise and meet some monks seemed like a good idea, plus it was on the way to Xi an. I barely made my train from Beijing, mainly because my cab driver got lost! I got safely into my assigned seat after much negotiation with the people who had stolen it, and we were off, my first train in China. I had heard a lot of grim stories about the transportation in China, especially regarding the dreaded "hard seat" trains. I found the hard seat to not be bad at all, if fact, it was quite soft. The only problem was that the backs of the bench seats, pairs facing each other over a table, were uncomfortably vertical, no slouching in the Republic! I sat next to a older gentlemen who was a chain smoker, and insisted on me joining him in his habit, no matter how many times the conductor scolded us. (your supposed to smoke in-between cars). We kind of became friends, even though we couldn't communicate at all. After an 8 hour journey, we arrived in Zhengzhou, a huge city, and I disembarked. Across from the train station I found the bus station, and with some confusion, finally found a bus going to Shaolin land, another 2 hours. It was late by the time I arrived in Dengfeng, and I found a hotel for the night. The next day, I had a driver come pick me up at the hotel, and he could speak a little English. When I told him that I intended to stay a night or two at a kung fu school, he got real excited, and said he new of a good one, the one he had trained at for three years, very good. I eyed his rather round physic, and thought to myself that this might be a mistake as I agreed to have him take me there. We soon arrived at the gated complex of bleak white brick buildings with light blue tile trim and wooden eaves, just outside of town. The place seemed deserted and bleak as my spherical friend led me inside the main building, where the head master's office was. The master dojo was also a stocky man of about 40, with a shaved head and long robes on, he didn't speak a word of English. My taxi driver acted as translator as we negotiated a price for two days, training, room, and board. We settled at 400Y, and I was shown to my own room by Mr. Lee, the facility man I gathered. My room was quite nice, had a TV, a fan, and my own shower. No toilet however. I was not really told anything else and the driver took off. I was kind of at a loss till a German dude named Felix poked his head in the door. Felix spoke pretty good English, and I learned he had been training there for the past 8 months, while he was on break before starting University. Felix was the only other westerner there, but told me that every once in a while someone like myself would come by for a few days. He assured me that he also had had zero kung fu skills when he arrived, and that he thought I would probably not be sparring, just taking part in the drills and exercise regimen. I found this to be reassuring. It was Felix's last day, he was going home the next day, so was not taking part in the drills for the day, busy packing up his stuff. He bid me adieu as the drills were starting out in the courtyard. There were approximately 500 students at the school, between the ages of 8 and 14, and they all trotted out from where ever they had been hiding in their green and yellow uniforms for a military-esk role call. Then they broke into smaller groups of about 14 to do drills ranging from running lines, lifting weights, or crab waling up the stairs of the dam. I then watched in horror as these small children went through some of the most physically demanding, drop jaw amazing series of exercises I've ever seen. The group right in front of my window were doing a drill where on student would jump into a somersault while another student would jump over in the other direction, landing into a somersault of their own, all on cobblestone mind you! I stood frozen in my doorway in awe, trying to determine if I could do a somersault period.

After the two hour mid morning session was over, everyone broke for lunch. Felix came and led me to the cafeteria. The lunch was actually very hearty and substantial, consisting of rice and some kind of meat. We grabbed a table with a gangly kid who was sitting by himself. My German friend introduced Frank, a Chinese kid, having been born in Shanghai, but when he was five years old his family had immigrated to Finland, where he had learned English as a third language. He was now 12 years old, and back in China to learn kung fu, and my hunch was he was here to gain some confidence. Frank was a nerdy kid, lets face it. He would look at you with a serious, questioning, cross eyed face. I can't tell you how relieved I was to be able to speak English, after just a few days of struggling to communicate. This relief was short lived, as I soon realized that my buddy Frank had quite a severe studder, which along with his Scandinavian accent, posed an entirely different set of communication hurdles. Frank and I would have every meal together, and he would become my best friend and interpreter at the school, especially after Felix left the next morning. The irony of this situation was not lost on me, but Frank was undaunted and so enthusiastic to ask questions and express very thoughtful observations, we tended to have conversations that would last throughout lunch, and not end till we had ventured into the courtyard and were late for our next lesson. Frank would ask me in a very serious tone, whether I liked Michael Jackson or not. When I said he was OK, he would then follow up with solemnly stating that he did too, but thought that the king of pop was very ugly. I agreed. Frank also though the United States was a very good country, and was eager to hear all about it. I found Frank to have a unique take on the world at such a young age, and we would get into philosophical discussions about politics, the war, and china, only to be stopped abruptly by being hung up on one word that Frank either couldn't say, or would say in a way that I couldn't understand. At each of these meals, we would be joined by the only two girls at the school, both about 14 years old it seemed. They always stuck together, and it seemed their arrangement at the school included them having to do the dishes for the boys in exchange for training with them. They had tough skins. The cute one insisted on serving me my gruel each meal, but was too shy to say anything. Her stocky friend was a little more communicative, although seemed annoyed by my presence. I soon realized that we were this misfit table, reminded me of highschool.

About 2pm it was finally time for my first lesson. After the military role call, we broke into groups. I was in the group of youngest kids, and we went around to the front courtyard to start with some running. To say that I stood out is an understatement of immense proportions. I towered above my classmates, and with blond hair, blue eyes, but donning the same uniform, it must have looked absurd. The kids were all excited to have me with them however, and tried to help me out all they could. We had two instructors who wore gray monk outfits, baggy but tied off with black bands just below the knee, wrapping down the calf, allowing for quick kicking movements. Kind of like traditional baseball uniforms. One instructor was taller and older looking. He generally played the bad cop, while the other shorter one was always smiling and laughing. After we had warmed up, we did a series of stretches. THE STRETCHING! Using the wall or the trunk of a small tree, we worked our hamstrings till it seemed they would burst, ballerina style. Our helpful instructors would come around and correct our form, or give the nudge that would get us just a bit further into the pain threshold. When we collapsed or yelled in pain, they would show us up by throwing their foot behold their head! I was their favorite target for example making. After this, we got in lines for kicking drills. It was pretty easy for me to play follow the leader, even though my kicks were crap. Then I was pulled aside with the hopelessly obese kid, and worked more on stretching while all the other competent kids did these flip things that they would walk into. If I had any ego left at that point, it was dashed, it was clear where my place was. When the bell rang, I was thankful that the session was over, but soon found out that it was merely time to change our station. Up next, weight lifting! We moved to the back courtyard, each carrying these concrete blocks with handles cast into them. I could only guess what these were for! We got into formation, and did a series of exercises lifting these things, tossing them in the air with one hand, and catching them with the other hand, which really worked the deltoids, shoulders, and forearms. I was doing pretty will with this, even though they gave me a block twice the size of everyone elses! Wait a minute, these were 9 year olds I'm comparing myself too, mutant freak 9 year olds, but kids all the same. Thing got a little more tricky after that. We started having to catch the blocks on top of a clenched fist and balance it on our knuckles, or catch it on top of our elbow, and hold our arms straight out till our shoulders gave out. As breaks between sets, we ran lines and did push ups on fists on the cobblestones. I was soon bleeding, but this was something I could do, just keep me away from flips. Finally, lesson one was over. I ended up hanging out with this incredibly curious kid and Felix in my room, showing pictures on my camera, trying to communicate. These kids were the greatest, so courageous in coming up to a stranger and trying to communicate. Felix basically described the place as a boot camp, military school for the kids whose families couldn't afford to send them to a real school. Their regimen was incredible! They start at 6am, and end at 11pm every day, all year. They train for two-three hours at a time, then have 2 hour breaks for meals and studies. They learn some math and a little English, although Felix described the classes as being a joke. I seriously contemplated staying there for a long time. I had dinner with Frank the the two girls again, Felix was missing. (turns out he was having some beers with his instructor). It was getting around 8pm at that point, and I just figured we were done. I took a stroll out to the dam to watch the end of great sunset, watching some locals down at the waters edge fishing, the majestic mountains in the background. Going back to my room, I took a shower and got into bed. That's when the night drill started! Some kids from my group came to my door, thinking I was just being lazy. I jumped up and said I'd be right out, even though they couldn't understand a word. I ran out to join the formation jogging around in circles like a flock of bees. Then we did punching drills. We basically would do three punches into the air on verbal cues from our instructors. Our fist were to start in a palm up position, and rotate to a palm down position with each puch, adding the velocity of twisting to each thrust. With each punch we were to exhale, which when done in unison, created an impressive sound. I was messing up that point, and pulled in front as an example. Now I would have figured that I could punch the air forever, but I soon was getting exhausted. The other thing I was getting all wrong, was that with both punches, we were supposed to be hitting the same imaginary target, not just punching wildly. After a while, I was once again pulled aside, but this time it was to learn my first move! I don't know what it was called, but it was pretty cool, and very difficult. Thats when Felix returned. We broke early, and we followed him into the caffeteria, where my group all sang a song for him, as a fairwell. It was incredibly touching. Felix then started throughing out these candies that he had brought with him. I was impressed at the connection they all had, and honestly a bit envious. More thoughts of staying on longer.....

Then next day, I woke up early to go through the same routine, sans Felix who had left early in the morning. I soon found that I was cramping up, and by the end of the day, I could barely walk. This quelled any crazy thoughts of staying on, my 30 year old body just couldn't take the abuse! So I said goodbye to my instructors, and the head master, and left the school. It was an incredible experience, the best of china.

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Saturday, April 28, 2007

Korea Top Gun

..................................................................................There is a delicacy here in South Korea, a culinary adventure for the strong willed and slightly savage, it is sannakchi, otherwise known as a baby octopus, thats still alive! The four of us, Angela and Mike, who I had met in Thailand, and Mike's girl friend Mija and myself sat down on the floor for our meal. Mija had called ahead the night before to make sure we could get a fresh octopus that night, as well as to pre-order our entire feast! So they just kept coming with the plates. At last, it was time. A rather large plate is placed before my eyes, and nothing seemed amiss, at first. Then the movement is perceived, writhing there in a mound of slime were the tentacles of the beast, blindly searching, crawling, latching onto what ever they came into contact with utilizing their surprisingly strong suckers. I exclaimed, "Good God, it's alive, ALIVE!" Then we dug in. Check out the video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dyBKKYFVzPc I had a great time hanging out with my air force buddy's out at Osan Air force Base, about an hour outside of Seoul. Besides the strange food, the highlight was hanging out in a city park with what seemed like half the retired community of Seoul. Angela and I were immediately invited to partake of the makkoli, a milky rice whisky that is the traditional drink of Korea, and is making quite the comeback by the way, and soju (rice whisky). We also were very graciously offered food, anything from sushi to jelly donuts, and finally, we were encouraged to join in on some karaoke! I sang a rousing rendition of "Beat it", which garnered blank stares of confusion and bewilderment, followed by a strong effort at "love me love me" by the Cardigans performed by one Angela. She brought the house down, I've never seen such spontaneous joyous dancing, except maybe that scene from "The Blues Brothers" when Reverend James Brown kicks it proper like. Next was one of our drinking buddies, who kind of serenaded my companion (all these old guys were VERY interested to learn we were just friends). A series of gentlemen waltzed with her while I took pictures, that was until I felt inclined to cut in and save her. This action resulted in us being escorted off the premises fairly abruptly! Guess I must have insulted someone. Other highlights were a weekend trip to Jeju Island with Mike and Mija where we trekked up a volcano and played at miniature world, eating kalbi - Korean style bar-b-q that you cook at your table, eating tons of kimchi and dichon (served at every meal), eating pondegi - silk worm larva, , and getting a tour of the runway at the base, which would describe if it weren't top secret. On the whole, I had a great time there and was glad I stopped by on my way to China.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Kyoto - Not Another Temple!

..............................................................................Or shrine! The site seeing kind of got to me I have to admit. Would have loved to just hang out at one peaceful temple, meditate or do a water color, but damn it was COLD! So, what really characterized my Kyoto experience, other than getting to know the bus system like the back of my hand, was the people I met at the venerable Tojian Guesthouse, quite possibly and simultaneously the most derelict and lovely place to stay in the world.
It consisted of a broken down old home next to the highway overpass with holes everywhere, so lets call it semi-enclosed accommodation. The front door didn`t lock, nor any other door in the place, I was in the 8 bed dorm, peachy. After crawling past the tea table and mat that the owner sleeps on!, you find yourself in a 8 foot by 8 foot room that serves as the living room for guests. There is a small table, free coffee and tea, and EVERY night the owner and/or staff force feed you free beer, sake, and the most potent, nasty booze they could find on the planet, my favorite being korean rice whisky, or as I call it, rubbing alcohol without the `smooth aftertaste`. I think it`s no secret the strategy that was going on, get the guest pissed so they forget the environment their in, better yet the name of the place, the city, and their own names for that matter. It gets even BETTER! You will notice on the slideshow below a couple of pics of what seems to be shipping containers stacked in a vacant lot. Well, those ARE shipping containers, and that is the addition, or as architects like to call it, the modernization of Tojian Guesthouse. How this novel and sustainable design escaped the folks at Arch Record I will never know. The experience is as follows: You exit the main building though a paper sliding door, where you find the restroom and sink. Then you see a ladder going up into the shadows, its scary. If you have the nerve and lack the wisdom of self preservation instinct, as I do, you may actually decide to ascend said ladder, between buildings as it were, to satisfy some insane feeling of curiosity. On the next platform you find, you guessed it, storage. Complete with a missing wall so you can throw even more `junk` onto the roof of the original house. Fire hazard anyone? Then you climb another ladder to the third level. Here you realize that instead of wood, there is cold hard steel under your feet. This is of course, the laundry room. Makes perfect sense, if fact, it really should be higher, preferable perched out on the edge of some narrow gang plank, exposed to the elements. But your attention is quickly drawn past this machine, to the glow emanating from a paper door to the highest storage container, yes, its the penthouse. Now some people say they are curious, but then there is the diabolical sort that tend to make fools of themselves, like yours truely. I had to, just slowly, peak into this room! I tip toed the screen, and slowly inched it to the right, until it made a nice screech like fingernails on the chalkboard. Through the 6 inch crack, on his tatami mat, was the most gruesome sight I have ever beheld! On the 3rd floor of the Tojian Guesthouse, in secret, dwells the TROLL man! It, I mean he, turned and scowled at my intrusion, as if to say, `Don`t you knock!`, and I fled.
The End.
Also included are the Osaka and Nara pics, blog to follow.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Takayama Gets It`s Matsuri On

.......................................................................................................................................................................................................................
..Took my leave of the bustle of Tokyo, and sped on the `Nozomi` express train up into the mountains of Central Honshu`s Hida District. The scenery was spectacular as we followed the mountain river into the Japanese Alps. Takayama is a quaint little mountain town with streets out of a page of history. Many shops selling the local woodcraft's the region is known for, and rice balls! I was just in time to catch the spring festival, the Sanno Matsuri, a celebration of the end of winter and a hopeful look ahead for this years harvest, plus a bunch of extremely ornate floats called `yatai` complete with puppets! I stayed at the Tensho-ji Youth Hostel which was connected to a shrine of the same name. Very cool even though dorm room was for 50 and the curfew was early. I mostly enjoyed wondering the streets and up into the park on the hill overlooking the town.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Come in Tokyo!

.........................................................................................Most people tend to dislike Tokyo, treat it as a spectacle to take in for a day or two, but not a place you would want to really hang out in, kind of like Vegas I suppose. They did not have the time I had. Thanks to my friend Nozomi, I had five days I will always remember, fast yes, overwhelming, maybe, but fun as hell. For those that don`t remember, I met Nozomi while scuba diving in Honolulu way back in November. We`ve kept in touch all that time, and she was gracious enough to let me crash on her studio apartment floor in the Tama district for four nights. Not only that, she took those days off to be my official escort/body guard on a whirlwind tour of the biggest city in the world. She also supplied me with the gifts! A book on Japanese culture, all kinds of tour information, maps, brochures and such, and some cool stickers. It even gets better! She insisted on cooking for me, and turns out she`s a world class chef, at least in my humble opinion. Needless to say, basically being pampered and not having to worry about transportation or ordering food and having my happy-go-lucky (she is always laughing!) companion made my experience what it was. Considering we barely spoke the same language, it was tse goy that we became such good friends and could amuse each other so easily!
In summary, we saw many cherry blossoms, checked out a cool onsen (my first public bath experience), went shopping for a new camera to replace the one that got stolen, ate tons of sushi, took the trains about 20 times a day, wondered around the museum, saw some cool architecture, both traditional and modern, and had a cocktail at the Park Hyatt (lost in translation) to top it all off.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

The Sun Sets on Southeast Asia

...................................................................I`m speeding through the Bangkok night in a neon pink taxi, feeling detached from my surroundings. The city streets race across the window in a blur, like a scene from a noir film. It`s 4am on a Monday morning, and the metropolis murmurs with life, whether its cranking up for another steamy day or winding down from its last hedonistic night is hard to tell. My chest aches and I avoid conversation with the cabby. I`m being whisked away to another adventure, this one called Tokyo, but I`m leaving my heart in Thailand. The past three weeks have been surreal. I left the monsoon in Cambodia, only to have it catch me in Phuket. I spent three incredible days scuba diving. One day at Rancha Yai where I met an elderly gentlemen from Napa who talked like Dracula. Then an overnight cruise to the Similan Islands for the best diving of my life. The water was not the clearest, but there were millions of fish and the corral and rock formations were incredible. My diving buddies for the six dives were Ben, a fireman from England, and Bruno, a Rastafarian from Germany. Our guides were great, especially Mary, an Austrian supermodel:) Returning from paradise, I took in a little of the scenery of Patong, mainly consisting of ugly old men being walked around by tiny Thai go go girls, pretty disgusting. Having enough with that, I booked a ferry to Koh Phi Phi, the island most famous for being decimated by the tsunami. The islands of Phi Phi are scenic, and EXPENSIVE. I booked a room for as cheap as I could find, and happened to grab a rickshaw\cart with two girls from Tokyo. We were quite the site being pushed down the beach side path with all our luggage! I spent two days relaxing and soaking in the sun. The half moon fire shows on the beach were fantastic, and to top it all off, Ryo, my Japanese friend, agreed to give me a much needed hair cut one drunken night, and it turned out pretty nice. I had two days before I needed to head back up to Bangkok, and I decided to head over to Hat Railay in Krabi off a recommendation from my friend Lin. It was a real scorcher of a day, and after leaving my bag on deck, I searched out a empty seat in the air conditioned cabin. I sat down next to an older farang, and tried to cool down. He ended up changing seats, so when I broke out my book on Shanghai I had been struggling through I had the three seat row to myself, and that`s when I met Alex. She politely asked if she could get by to the window, and I obliged, not really looking up. When I sat back down I beheld a tall woman with a gorgeous, angular face, big green eyes, and light brown hair with blond highlights, tangled and cute. She was fanning herself off in the heat and I commented on the oven-like conditions, and we fell into conversation. She had the kind of elegant, proper English accent that makes you feel like a barbarian in comparison, and I loved listening to it. We talked intensely for the entire 1-1/2 hour trip, so involved, in fact, that I missed my stop at Railey! So there I was, standing on the Ao Nang pier, debating what to do. So I asked Alex if she wanted to try to hire a long tail boat to accompany me back to Railey, she said yes. Two weeks of island hoping, full moon party`n, laughing at the zombies being awakened from the safe sleep zone, sharing sunsets, sunrises, tiny $6 huts, 4 star resorts, motorbike adventures(no injuries to report!), sneaking into resort pools, being robbed(my camera with all the pictures!), getting through a bought with the flu(Alex), putting my flight off three times, and many, many Lipton Ice Tea`s later, I found myself hugging good bye to an incredible, tearful girl in front of Suk 11 in the dead of the night. It`s the stuff dreams are made of.
also see some long lost pics from Laos and Vietnam waterproof camera