The Plan for 2009

There will be one trip.

It will be 9-10 days. It will be after April. It could be in December.

It could be anywhere. It could be Central America. It could be Western Europe. It could be Northern Africa. It could be South America. It won't be in Asia. Not this year.

It will be on a tight budget, as will most things in my life next year. I've gone over-budget each trip. This will be a challenge.

It won't be resort-ish. No daily foot massages this time.

It will be somewhere that I'd never expect going. It won't be a big-time place. I don't think it will be, anyway.

It will be with at least one other person. There might be one more. Maybe two.

It will kick major ass.

With all that said, the fun begins. I don't say this sarcastically. The planning is just as fun as the journey itself. Soon all the uncertainties will be made clear, flights will be booked, lodging will be reserved. Fun will be had.

That is the plan.

Roots

There's a reason I haven't posted lately.

I moved into a townhouse last weekend. I took the plunge and bought a place. I'm sitting in my living room, "borrowing" my neighbor's wifi, listening to my Carpenters' Greatest Hits CD. On the bookshelf across from me sit four prints that I bought in Europe; two in Paris, two in Amsterdam. They make me dream of going back.

This latest event in my life has put my travel plan. Not that I was going anywhere anytime soon, but even thinking about getting away is difficult, what with mortgages to deal with.

Buying a house is a Big Boy Thing. Much like traveling solo to Thailand and Malaysia was a Big Boy Thing. I ask myself, "If I didn't go on the Big Boy Trip, would I have had the courage to risk becoming a homeowner.

Every trip I've taken has stretched me, forced me to think on my feet, pushed me to the physical and mental limit. The homebuying process is no picnic, either. But it felt right. It felt like the next logical step in my life.

I know I'll end up traveling somewhere. You can't kill the travel bug. You can only let it sleep until it wakes up and kicks you in the butt.

(By the way, this doesn't mean this blog is on hiatus. I do have at least three stories left to tell from Thailand. I just need the time and energy to pump them out.)

The Gift of Crickets

(Warning: This post could be considered disgusting. TMI, if you will. Turn away now, if that is not your thing...)

I love the Internet.

If it wasn't for the Internet, I would not have met Julie. Julie is a fellow travel junkie currently residing in Mexico City (See her blog here.) Through that wonderful social utility called Facebook, Julie let her friends know that she bought some crickets at a nearby market. To which I replied, "That is so awesome." To which she replied. "I can get you some, if you want." Then I was all, "No WAY." Then she was all, "WAY." And back and forth we went.

A week later, a beat-up manila envelope arrives at my door. Inside, emanating an odor best described as "earthly", lies a plastic bag filled with crickets.



I stared at the bag for five minutes. I expected the crickets to be larger. My guess is the flight to L.A. caused the carcasses to come apart.



I took a cricket and examined it. The longer I looked at it, the more anxious I became. I don't need more anxiety in my life. So I popped it in my mouth. First impressions: Crickets are salty. But they're not anything special.

I was feeling a bit hungry, so I popped in a few more.



I'm not at the stage where I can grab a handful of crickets and stuff my face with them, like Doritos. They remain in their baggie, on my desk, waiting to be consumed.

You're more than welcome to try them. I've left the best bits in the bag.



Thanks, Julie! Next round of bugs is on me...

Amazing Race

The show that inspired me to travel has returned!



Watching The Amazing Race is like saying hi to an old friend. The show is in its 13th(!) season, and it always manages to put a hop in my step. If it wasn't for TAR, I wouldn't have renewed my passport, I wouldn't have trekked through Europe, South America or Southeast Asia.

I owe a lot to this show. My only complaint is when the personalities of the contestants dominate the show, relegating the locales as secondary characters. Make no mistake, the world is the superstar in this show.

From the first episode of this season, there are two teams I'm pulling for (Ty/Aja, The Comic-Book Geeks), two teams I like for the eye candy (Divorcees, Starr and...the other guy), and one team that I can't stand (Terrence and...the other girl).

Here's hoping for a great season...

Traveling

I miss it.

That's all.

Oregon Bits

Haven't posted in a while. Lots of (non-travel) stuff going on, but I did get a chance to visit the great state of Oregon. Here are tidbits about the Beaver State:

- Oregon is incredibly green. It's mind-blowing. And I don't just mean green in the literal sense. Oregonians are very environmentally conscious. I inadvertently placed my empty water bottle in the trash instead of the recycling bin. I felt guilty.



- The world's best bookstore in located in Downtown Portland. Powell's City of Books spans an entire city block. There are (at least) three floors. Every genre is represented in spades. It took me three hours to browse the entire store. Time well spent.



- The Beaverton Farmers Market is every Saturday from 8 am to 1:30 pm. The produce is fresh. The air is filled with kettle corn, sunflowers and German Sausage. In the background a bluegrass band plays Johnny Cash cover songs. Is there ANYTHING like this in Southern California? I doubt it.


*Heaven*

Oregon is a wonderful getaway spot. Especially if you've been holed up a smoggy LA for a while. I didn't even mention the outdoor activities. I will soon...

What This? (A Taste of Malaysia)

I had heard the food in Malaysia was fantastic. My primary goal was to try as many exotic foods as possible. Which is why my first meal was at the California Pizza Kitchen in Suria KLCC.



CPK in Malaysia tastes exactly like CPK in Los Angeles. I was shocked. You'd think that there'd be some variation on the Thai BBQ Chicken Pizza. Sadly, no.

The next day, while wandering KLCC (again), I found a breakfast place tucked away on the ground level of the mall. On display were several multi-colored pastries, each one crying out to me to choose them. I wanted to. I hadn't eaten all day. I waved to the woman at the counter, pointed to a neon-green pastry and asked, "What this?" I don't know why I spoke to her in broken English. It was a habit I picked up during my trip; asking questions, leaving out verbs, pointing a lot.

"Bingka," The woman answered. "Very sweet. Good!" I pointed at more dishes. "What this? What that one? Is good, yes?" She must have thought I was a monkey.

I picked two more dishes and a packet of rice, egg and anchovies wrapped in a banana leaf. I only chose it because other patrons were grabbing two at a time and giving me the stinkeye while I was took a whiff of the anchovies. I found out that the packet was a dish called nasi lemak, a Malaysian staple.



My entire meal cost $2 US. And it was fantastic.

If only I had found this before CPK...

----------------------
Bonus Tip: When you're in Malaysia, make sure to grab some Hainan Chicken Rice.



If this doesn't hit the spot, check your taste buds.

Sidetracked Again

Now that the Olympics are through I have three days to get ready for OREGON!



I'll be spending Labor Day weekend in the greater Portland area. I've been there twice before, but never in the summer. I hear it's not as cold.

Though I'll be spending most of the time with family, there's only one place I want to go. And I really, really, really hope I can go there.

Olympic Distractions

I have a quite a bit more to write about my Thailand/Malaysia trip. But like many people around the world, I've been distracted.

The Olympic Games have a place on this blog, no question. At the least, these two weeks serve as the ultimate travelogue? When those aerial shots of the Forbidden City come up, how does your heart not skip a beat?

I actually thought about going to Beijing during the Olympics, but you know? I think I like watching the games from my living room in HD. And then I can see it online. For a total of 3,600 hours. If I were in Beijing, I'd either be missing out on the action, or the sights. Tough call. I'd choose the sights.

I don't post anything in the next week, please understand.

Malaysia: On the Tube

There wasn't a lot for me to do in KL.

My hotel was close to Suria KLCC, and if you're into shopping malls, that's a good thing.

So while there is plenty to see during the day, Kuala Lumpur's nightlife was lacking. I spent each night in the hotel, unwinding in front of tube. This may seem like a waste of vacation. And you may be right. But by this time, I was craving the comforts of home.



At 9 PM every night, one of the channels broadcasts live from an unnamed mosque. It's not exactly the 700 Club, but the call to prayer is mesmerizing. For about a minute.



Malaysia has its own version of So You Think You Can Dance? Does it compare to the US version? Hardly. All are decent enough dancers, but not a Katee nor Joshua to be found. However, there is no Malaysian Nigel nor Mary, and that's a good thing.



This is Edleen Ismail. She co-anchors the Malaysian version of SportsCenter on ESPN. If there is ANY way ESPN can move her stateside, I would be ever so grateful. If not, I may contemplate moving.

I doubt I will. I love American TV too much. However, if a Malaysian version of The Office comes on the air, then maybe. Just maybe.

Petrosains

If you asked me what the highlight of my stay in Kuala Lumpur was, I could say standing on the Skybridge between the Petronas Towers and catching a bird's-eye view of the city. But I wouldn't be honest with you.



My favorite part of KL lies inside the monstrous Suria KLCC shopping center on the top floor. Petrosains is an interactive science and discovery center. It's exhibits are geared toward children and anyone with a thirst for knowledge. Admission will cost you $4 US. It's a steal.



The great thing about Petrosains is that you get to be hands-on with all the exhibits. Ever wonder what it's like in the middle of a hurricane? Just step inside the Hurricane Booth! I'll let you in on a secret. It's a little windy.



There's a section of games that you can play to teach you principles of physics, geology and chemistry. One interesting game is MindBall. You and another person put on a headband which is attached to a machine with a ball inside. By using your brainpower, you can control the ball's movement. The first to push the ball across the other's goal line wins. It's a fascinating game. Too bad the kids playing wouldn't let me in. They were vicious.

Besides learning about science, you also get to know more about Petronas. The oil company's presence is felt throughout the exhibit. The bottom line: Petronas is awesome, and don't you forget it!

You can go on a simulated helicopter ride to one of Petronas' oil derricks in the middle of the ocean!



From there, you can experience what life is like on the derricks. I'll let you in on a secret. It's a little desolate. And the mannequins don't make it less so. But at least they eat well.

Remember, when you're in KL, make sure to check out Petrosains. It's a bargain, it will keep you cool from the Malaysian humidity and you might actually learn something.

Phuket Impressions

I wasn't there for long, but here are my impressions of Phuket:

- The airport is far from the beaches. Also, the transportation system is jacked. A taxi ride to your hotel will cost you a grip. There are, however, the minibuses that can take you for cheaper, but you make a stop at a travel agency and you're asked to purchase a tour. If you're ok with this, then by all means take the minibus. Personally, I rather not be disturbed.

- Patong Beach has a lot going on. A LOT. Winding streets are filled with noisy tourists. With tourists come bars, massage parlors and souvenir stands. Again, if you're OK with this, book your lodging in Patong. Otherwise, stay far, far away.

- Karon Beach is quiet. It caters to families and, apparently, the Swedish. The nearby streets are still complete with girlie bars and massage places, but the whole vibe is chill. I loved Karon Beach.

- Two days isn't nearly enough to "see" Phuket. There's Kata Beach, and Phuket Town. There's James Bond Island, which is intriguing just on the name alone. Had I the extra day, I would have taken a stab at snorkeling, riding a scooter, or I would have been completely daring and laid out on the beach for an extra day.


*Ahhh, good tiimes*

Phuket, I will return. I won't let you down next time. Promise.

Walking Chiang Mai

Before I embark on a trip, I get a guidebook. Lonely Planet gets a lot of flack, but I like their guides. They have thorough histories of each country, plenty of food and lodging options, and they have detailed walking tours. I love walking tours. You can go at your own pace and you allow yourself to be immersed in the culture.

The Trusty Lonely Planet Guidebook has a walking tour of Chiang Mai's Old Temples, but I found it lacking. So to anybody on the LP staff that may be reading this, I humbly submit to you my own Walking Tour of Chiang Mai.

Get up at 7 AM. Stop whining. You'll have to trust me. Pack a huge bottle of water and a map. Skip the bacon and eggs from your hotel breakfast buffet. Your meal is waiting for you outside.



Start at Pratu Chang Pheuak, the North Gate. Along the way, stroll through one of many morning markets. Absorb the sounds; The barbeque skewers sizzling, the old ladies yelling, the tuk-tuks honking at you to get out of the middle of the road. Buy a few pork skewers with rice. Maybe some beef balls, or two. Find a shady spot under a tree by the moat. Take a picture of the North Gate. Take a moment and sit by the moat as you eat breakfast.



Cross the gate, mind the traffic, and head south. Follow the signs to the statue of the Three Kings. Along the way, take note of the Wats, or temples. Go inside one, and ask one of the monks, "Wat's the name of this one?" The monk will laugh awkwardly and not answer you. Persist. When he gets annoyed, ask him "Wat's the matter, homie?" Run away, and quickly. Those monks are fast.

Stand at the base of the Three Kings. Count the number of kings. If the number is not three, check the map. You're in the wrong city.



Head east toward Pratu Suan Doak, the West Gate. Take a picture. Make sure you're clear of traffic. Curse the city planners for not making Chiang Mai pedestrian-friendly. Don't take too long, though, you'll make a scene. Once you've collected yourself, head south along the moat. Note the partial castle wall to your left as you walk. How cool is that? Have you seen a city where a wall surrounds the entire central area? Take a moment and ponder this as you come to where the west and south walls converge.

Hang a left. On your left is Bunk Hat Park. Enter the park for a few minutes' rest. Note the peaceful scene, as locals relax, and families enjoy the day. Find a spot by the pond and gaze at the school of fish running rampant. You'll love the park so much, you'll be tempted to stay here for an hour. Fight it. We're not done!

Exit the park and make your way to Pratu Chiang Mai, the South Gate. You'll pass more street food vendors. You'll see more pork-on-a-stick, balls of questionable meats, and pre-made curries. You'll pass a cart of crickets. Note the bemused expression on the cricket lady's face as she can't believe you'd actually eat any. Now note her horror as your pop five in your mouth without flinching. Spit 'em all out when she's not looking.

Find the gate and take a picture. Don't worry if you can't get close up to it, it's not your fault the tuk-tuks hate you. Scamper back across the gate and head north to the center of the old city. Stop for a iced coffee sold by the road. Marvel at how such a wonderful drink can come out of a baggie.



Make a right on Ratchadamnoen Road. Take it to the final gate, Pratu Tha Phae. You'll come across a boisterous market, with live music, more street food, funny souvenirs and the like. Take a picture of the gate, just so you can show your friends you've been to all four. Head east down Tha Phae road. Ask where the Night Bazaar is. What, you'd think I'd actually tell you? Where's the fun in that? You might need to know some Thai at this point, so make sure you memorize some phrases. If you don't know, don't panic. Use gestures. Thais are smart, they'll understand you.

Keep walking. Walk some more. Do you see the Night Bazaar? Here's a clue. It's near the Pornping Hotel. You can't miss it.

Once you've made it to the Night Bazaar, head right for Let's Relax. Order the 3-hour package with the foot, arm and Thai Herbal massage. Oh, calm down, it's only 30 bucks.

As the masseuse bends your body in ways you didn't think possible, laughing at you while you screech in agonizing pain, rejoice! You've walked Chiang Mai and are being rewarded handsomely.

Just mind that herbal compress. That crap burns.

For more pictures of Central Chiang Mai, go to my flickr page here.

Independence Days

This is the second Fourth of July I've spent abroad.

Last year, I spent America's birthday in Peru, knocking back Pisco Sours. This year, I celebrate my country by riding on Wonton's back.

Wonton (that's what I hear the guide call him, anyway) is the elephant taking me on a journey through the exotic, Mae Wang River Valley. I had signed up for a one-day trek through the valley, a two hour drive from Chiang Mai.

I'm with eight others on this trek, none of them American. There are two Dutchmen, both young, very tall, and very friendly. A little too friendly. There are two elderly men, also Dutch. They may be partners, but I never ask. There are two brothers from Indonesia And there is a father with his daughter, both from Vietnam. It's like I'm in the Amazing Race, except I don't have partner. Except Wonton, who'll be anything you want him to be if you keep feeding him bananas.





I spend an hour with Wonton, before saying goodbye and hopping on a bamboo raft. The raft is narrow and porous. We're advised to take off our shoes, lest we get them wet. The guide knows his stuff. With each twisting turn, water slips up from the cracks of the raft, drenching my shorts. I spend the last five minutes of the ride with my ass hovering half a foot over the raft, my arms pushing me up. "Are you uncomfortable?" The guide asks me? "Oh no, I'm good thanks. Just trying to keep dry."

After toweling off, we trek through a tribal village, taking pictures of the farm life and the villagers. The young Dutchmen go crazy with their SLRs, pointing them inside the huts, snapping away at the women putting their babies to sleep. The father from Vietnam turns to me in disgust. "How would you like it if they came to your house and took pictures of you?" I nod, hoping he didn't see me take two pictures of the cutest baby in Thailand.


*I couldn't resist...*

We stop for lunch. We talk over vegetable soup and rice. One of the brothers from Indonesia tells me of his time in New York ("It was very cold"). One of the old Dutchmen tells me of his stay in Orlando ("I HATED it!"). I tell of my time in Amsterdam ("Oh, it was fantastic. Especially those Space Cakes...").



The rest of the day is spent walking up and down the valley, through rice fields where the farmers let us try our hand at planting stalks. We stop at a waterfall and let the mist cool us down. We walk through another village, only to find the villagers not at home. Our guide leads us to a set of picnic benches away from the village. Everyone talks to their companions about the sights they've seen. My eyes wander and catch a glimpse of a rooster scooting down the road. I follow it, trying to take a candid picture. The villagers look at me like I'm insane. I'm not. I'm just an American.

We pile into our minivan bound for Chaing Mai. Everyone passes out from the long hike. I put on my iPod, Coldplay filling my head. "Strawberry Swing" is on repeat. I close my eyes. What am I doing here on the Fourth of July? Shouldn't I be home with friends, pigging out on hot dogs? Shouldn't I be catching fireworks off the Redondo Beach Pier? Shouldn't I be out in the L.A. smoggy sunshine, feeling proud to be an American? Whatever. I've been there, done that. I hadn't fed bananas to an elephant. I hadn't ridden on bamboo. I hadn't planted rice in the mud.

I wonder if every Independence Day should be spent in a foreign land. For new experiences. For stretching yourself. For doing things you never thought you'd do. For being truly independent.

Let Me Relax

The sign says “Let’s Relax”. What a great idea.

I had arrived in Chiang Mai earlier in the day, and I felt cheated. I’ve been in Thailand for three days, and not one massage. No time. My back and shoulders are starting a revolt. Now it’s my show. No relatives showing me around. No bizarre tours sucking away time. It’s time to relax.

I walk into the spa, located in the middle of the Night Bazaar. I’m greeted by four women, each with their hair up in a bun. “Swatika!” They greet me, as they bow their heads in unison, hands pressed together. I’m feeling good. I’m ready to cut loose.

I take a seat and flip through the selection of treatments. The first one I see is the Heavenly Package. It’s the cheapest package they have at 600 Baht, and I’m not one for reading fine print, so I immediately point to it. “This one, please!” They nod altogether. “Excellent choice, sir. This way, pleas” I rise from my chair to follow them, but not before catching the details of the Heavenly Package:

Foot Reflexology 45 min

Hand Reflexology 15 min

Back and Shoulder Massage 30 min

I freeze. Not feet. Anything but that.

I’ve had a phobia of bare feet since childhood. It started when I would sit at Dad’s feet on Sunday afternoons, while he watched football. I would complain to Mom that something in the living room smelled really bad. She’d laugh and go back to folding laundry. She didn’t have the heart to tell me that it was Dad. It was always Dad.

Since then, I’ve been known to faint when touched by a foot. Suggest a pedicure and I’ll retch. The thought of a total stranger touching my feet for 45 minutes sends a chill up my spine. This isn’t a good idea. I think I should leave. But the four ladies have surrounded me as I get up. These women are smart.

I’m lead to a chamber of leather chairs as new age piano plays through the loudspeakers. At the base of each chair is a bowl of scalding hot water covered with flower petals. I plunge my feet in. The initial burning sensation gives way to, dare I say it, relief. I wiggle my toes in the hot water. An unassuming Thai lady takes my left foot in her hands. She washes the dirt away. I’m confused. This is nice. This is soothing. But she’s touching my feet! Who knows what odors are emanating from down there? There could be insect colonies buried between my toes.

Yet Agnes is gentle. That’s not her real name, but if I’m imagining anybody touching my feet, it would be an Agnes. She increases the pressure, loosening the taut fibers in my sole. She digs into every crevice. I think about the ordeal Agnes must go through every day, as sweaty tourists come in, feet festering in unwashed socks. “Are you OK?” She asks, as my whole body shakes involuntarily. “Yes. I’m sorry. Please keep going…”

Agnes moves on to the right foot with the same loving care. She alternates between caressing and manhandling. She takes both feet in her hands and bends them, loosening the joints, relieving tension. She’s about to move to my arms, back and shoulders, when it occurs to me that it’s been 45 minutes, and I am not relaxed. My feet feel heavenly, but I’m still tense. Why is this? Did Agnes not do a good enough job? Do I need more time on my feet? Or have I identified with my foot phobia so closely, that I just can’t let go?

My massage ends, leaving my body less rigid, but not at rest. I’m served a final cup of tea with cookies. Agnes and the other ladies watch me as I mash the cookies into my mouth, spilling crumbs. I can’t even relax when I’m eating.

I leave the spa, feeling that Thailand and all her Agneses are not finished with me. They know my fears. They see my hesitation. They know I need help. They know I’ll come back. And they won’t rest until I’m cured. Until I’m relaxed.

If only my feet would let them.

Extreme Makeover: Bangkok Edition

"We're meeting my friend at State Tower tonight. You need new clothes." Pinky tells me. I open my mouth to disagree, but a look at my Mountainwear Wicked Tee, khaki shorts and sport sandals, and I decline to speak up.

We look at jeans outside MDK, one of Bangkok's megamalls. Pinky picks out a pair of button-fly designer jeans. I throw a fit. The jeans fit snugly. I hate snugly. After trying on three more pairs, I find a button-fly that works. "You have money?" Pinky asks. I have a feeling this isn't the last time I hear this question.

We hit Siam Paragon, one of the trendier malls in the city, for dress shirts and shoes. Pinky hands me 5 shirts from Zara. All linen, all way too small. Turns out a large size in Thailand is not the same as it is in the States. Pinky finds me an XXL shirt, and it's a perfect fit.

Pinky shows me a pair of Timberlands that turn out to be ridiculously comfortable. "How much is all this gonna cost me?" I blurt out. "Don't worry about it. Think of it as an investment." I get the feeling that she's had experience in helping clueless guys out with their dress sense.

"All my guy friends, they have no clue." She had told me over lunch. "They're too nice. Here in Bangkok, all the guys say I love you after meeting you."

"Isn't that a little extreme?"

"No! It's true. And the women here...they're crazy." Uh-oh. I'm not liking where this is going. "They worship farangs."

Farangs is the term used to describe a white man in Thailand, but I start to think there's more to that term that Pinky isn't telling me. "They're so disgusting!"

"What, the women or the Farangs?"

"Hello?! The Farangs." Pinky's not one for sarcasm.

We walk through Siam Paragon, and on cue, they materialize. Farangs, some skinny, some obese, all old and European, walking alongside petite Thai women. The Farangs are dressed in tank tops and flip-flops. I suggest to Pinky that maybe I should try dressing like them if I want to get a date. She shoots me the look of death.



After a return to Pinky's apartment and two hours of figuring out how to put on button-fly jeans, we meet up with her friend Tuang at The Dome at State Tower. It's a rooftop bar by the Chao Phraya river, and it has the best view of the Bangkok skyline. The scene is sophisticated. Live jazz plays from the dome as men and women, dressed to the nines, hold actual conversations. The three of us find a vacated couch on the balcony. We talk about life in Bangkok, what to do in Chiang Mai and Phuket, what it's like living in the States. Across from us, two tall Farangs chat it up with their dates. As the music plays on, they burst into laughter, and I wonder if they can understand each other.



I hadn't planned on spending an evening at The Dome. I only thought of seeing the sights, walking the streets, eating the local cuisine. I didn't expect a makeover. A look from the rooftop of State Tower, half a world away from everything I know, proved me wrong. There is more to Bangkok than I thought. I'm a better person for it.

But I still haven't figured out those button-fly jeans.

More pics from State Tower and Bangkok can be found here.

Good Morning, Bangkok

Cousin Pinky wakes me at 6:30 am. "Come on, we're getting breakfast."

"What, now?"

"YES! We have a long day today."

Pinky lives off Sathorn Road in the heart of Bangkok. She never has to cook. Her kitchen is a minute's walk from her apartment, to the local food market.



The streets are lined with food stalls and fruit stands. Everthing is fresh, cheap and calling your name. Barbeque pork? No problem! Rambutans? Over here! Durian? None for me, thank you, but they're there if you want them!



They even have frogs! I turn to Pinky and ask how they taste like, but she's run off for some fried rice. Meanwhile, I do a fantastic job of standing still and getting in everyone's way. I can't help it. I love local markets. There's so much color, noise and aroma. It's a blissful assault on the senses. And to think that this happens every morning, and once again in the evening for dinner. It's enough to make me think about relocating. Or at least start a dragonfruit stand back in L.A.



I think I can pull it off.

Pictures and Update

I've uploaded my pics on flickr. Check them out.

Also, in a bit of exciting news, I've been asked to pitch some ideas for a travel site. Yikes! So there may be a small delay in posting.

I'm working on it, believe me.

Jetlag

I don't like you.

Home

After sixteen uncomfortable hours in the air, combined with a mild bout of TD, I have returned.

As much as I like traveling, there's something special about crashing on your own bed and vegging out. It's great.

Stories to come soon.

Soundtracks

My trip would not be the same without my iPod.

Coldplay's latest album has been the perfect soundtrack from my trip. I've had "Strawberry Swing" and "Life in Technicolor" on repeat. When looking out on the blue waters of Phuket, it really is a perfect day.

Other songs on my travel playlist: "Alone in Kyoto" by Air, "Return To Innocence" by Enigma, and "O Mexico" by Dosh. These are songs that provide the perfect space while you ride the train to your next stop, or when you're in the airport, anticipating your next destination.

I'm always looking to add to my playlist, so any suggestions are more than welcome.

What's in your playlist?

Winding Down

It's my last night alone.

I return to Bangkok for a couple days with relatives, and then it's back home. I thought two weeks was enough for my trip. Not even close.

Physically, I'm toast. Though I've slept well, I've walked a lot. Taking in every sight, sound and smell drains you too. And with every waking thought being, "What do I do now?", the trip becomes less of a vacation.

I've racked up a bunch of pictures, videos, and most importantly, stories. This trip has produced an abundance of stories. I look forward to sharing them with you.

Cheers.

Harrowing

Over the past week and a half, I've gone through some experiences that would normally keep me from leaving my hotel room. Let's just say, my wallet is lighter, and I have a receipt from the Chiang Mai Central Hospital's emergency room.

But this is why we travel, right?

Things I Didn't Know About Malaysia

1) The official religion is Islam.

2) Drug trafficking is punishable by death.

They don't mess around here. Oh, and they cane people here too.

Wish me luck.

Rest

In Phuket (pronounced poo-GET). Two days of...um, I don't know exactly.

I was nearly pressured into taking a half-day tour tomorrow. The saleswoman asked, "Why you here by yourself?" All I could say is, "Relax."

And I need it. Seven days of traveling, of finding things to do. All under the Thailand sun and humidity. My body is weary. Even with the massages.

It's time to take a break from my vacation.

Life Is Good

I got the massage, and a 3-hour one at that. I had one two days earlier, but that was a measly hour and a half. My body is not agreeing with me right now, but whatever. Life is good.

CM has been a blast. The weather hasn't been so humid. I did some trekking up in the mountains. I was able to walk the city in a whole day. I can't feel my legs right now, but whatever. Life is good.

Off to Phuket tomorrow for a two days of doing absolutely nothing.

Yeah. Life ain't so bad right now.

On My Own

I have arrived in Chiang Mai. The hotel I'm staying in is posh. Not so posh. It's posh-ish.

My stay in Thailand has been great. Although my Thai is lacking. I've confused the saying for, "How much?" with "You have died." I have a ways to go.

There are no relatives or friends in CM, so I am on my own. And somehow during my time here, I'm getting that damn massage.

Bye for now.

I've Found My Way

Somehow, some way, I've found my way to Bangkok.

To say I'm jetlagged would be a gross understatement.

And I think I'm booked on a tour group tomorrow. What the heck?? This should be interesting.

The Road to Southeast Asia: Prologue - The Big Boy Trip

Things happen for a reason.

I was supposed to leave for the Philippines in April, followed by a week in Thailand. I was all set to book my flights, when our trip fell through. I was crushed.

A month passed, and I was feeling it the itch. I sat at my desk at work, dreaming of Thai massages, when I thought, "Screw it, I'm just gonna go."

I was obsessed. I went on Kayak for a week straight, looking up flights till 2 AM. I mapped out my itinerary, scrapped it, made a new one, scrapped THAT, went back to my original plan, then went with Plan C.

Click. One flight booked. Click. There's another. Click. Wait, I need to book hotels! Click. Click. Click!!

And here I am, about to embark on a two-week solo trip to Southeast Asia.

This is my Big Boy Trip. No companions to lean on to do the dirty work. I have to ask for directions. I have to interact with the locals. I have to find my way across the mountains of Chiang Mai. I have to seek out the secluded beaches of Phuket on my own. I have to navigate the streets of KL. It's on me. This is the trip where I gut it out, suck it up, and go.

I will have friends and family in Bangkok to guide me. Apart from that, I am on my own. Two years ago, this was unthinkable. Today, it's all I think about. I want to approach this trip with open eyes. With boldness.

Enough writing.

Let's do this.



I'll be back in two weeks, with pictures, stories, and maybe even videos(!) to share. If I'm able, I will update.

Cheers.

Objectives - Thailand/Malaysia

I want a massage. A cheap, Thai massage that last for hours.

I want to eat the street food at the local market and pray that I don't get diarrhea.

I would like to bust out of my introverted bubble and try to engage more with the locals. I hear Thais are friendly. And they smile a lot. This bodes well.

I would like to haggle at least once.

I want to rock a Karaoke Bar in Bangkok.

That's about it, really. I'm sure I'll do a lot more when I'm there. I'll leave that up in the air.

Dancing

Big ups to Matt Harding, for putting together this video.





What a great example of taking your God-given gift of dorky dancing and using it to make the world a better place.

Well done, Matt.

Slow Traveler

Every travel blog out there has lists of their own. "10 Things To Do In Rome", "20 Beers to Try in Malaysia", "52 Must-See Spots in Andorra". I love these lists. They get my mind going. They get me in the Travel Zone.

Do I do these lists? Not really.

The last thing I want to do when traveling is go off a list. Then the trip becomes a quest. And when there's 100 things to do on the quest, it becomes a race. And unless there's a million dollars and a guy named Phil waiting for me at end, I'm taking my time, thank you very much.

I'm a slow traveler. I like standing in a town square and people watching, taking in everything. I'd rather stroll than walk. I hate being rushed from place to place. This is why I don't do well with set itineraries.

I cover less ground than most people, and I miss out on some sights. I'm OK with that. The worst thing to feel on a trip is rushed.

But for a million dollars, I can make some adjustments...

Setbacks

Reading this article from LP got me thinking.

From the article:

Travel should involve just a little struggle, a few annoyances, a bit of frustration.

Queuing for overcrowded buses, sleeping in smelly dorms, spending hours guarding packs on cold railway platforms these are all part of the complex mix of excitement, boredom and hassle that makes seeing the world such a joy.

...Throwing yourself into confusing and confronting situations and seeing how you cope, is what makes life, and travel worth experiencing.

These sentences sum up my general travel outlook.

The way I see it is, no setback during your travels is so grand that you can't endure it. Take Machu Picchu. At no point during the hike did I think, "Man this feels awesome!" It didn't. The first day sucked, the second day was no better, and by the last day, I was a bearded, constipated mess.

But the point is, I survived. With tales to tell. With pictures and memories to share.

I'm not asking you, Fellow Traveler, to actively look for difficult situations in your trips. They'll be sure to find you. And I'm not saying that all travel is difficult, because even the hard-core travel junkies need respite.

What I am suggesting is that when you do find yourself stranded at the airport, or late for your overnight train, take a deep breath and relax. You'll pull through it. These things come with the territory. They teach you patience. They build character.

As much as traveling connects you with the world, it connects you with yourself too.

For Your India Trip

India is definitely on my list of places to go. Here's a link to other links to get you started on planning.

read more | digg story

iPods On a Plane

"United Airlines announced this morning that it is the first US airline to offer an iPod connector for its in-flight entertainment systems. The systems feature an iPod dock—naturally compatible with the iPhone—which connects it to the 15.4-inch LCD screen for viewing video content as well as listening to music, all while charging the iPod's battery."

Thank GOODNESS.

read more | digg story

Sinking In

It hasn't sunk in yet that I'm going to Thailand and KL in a little over a month.

I haven't prepared much for my trip. I have my LP guidebooks, but I haven't read much of either one. I've stopped looking for things to do, places to eat. I haven't even learned some basic Thai phrases.

Unless I start now, I'm liable to be out of luck if I need to find a bathroom in Chiang Mai.

San Francisco Treats

During my visit to SF, I had lunch here:



Imagine my delight to find a Jollibee right in the heart of San Francisco! For the uninitiated, Jollibee is Filipino fast food. I ordered the pancit palabok with fried chicken. And it was delicious.

Also delicious is the Paella Valenciana at The Thirsty Bear, on Howard St. As well as their wonderful selection of beers.






Make sure to check out both spots whenever you're in San Francisco. Your stomach will love you for it.

Airline Fun

t's Friday night, 8:30 PM, SFO. I'm ready to check in my bag for my 10:15 flight to LAX when the lady at the Southwest ticket counter says, "There is no 10:15 flight. Can I see your boarding pass?"

I fish for my pass, hand it to her. "No, the flight's at 8:50. You might miss your flight." Well, then.

I ask her what time the next flight leaves. "9:50. You can still make this one. Gate 21. Hurry!"

Usually, I'd book it down to security, clear all my bags through the detectors in a frenzy, and sprint toward the gate. On this night, none of that. I had endured a whole week of Java talk. Four days of techie talk is enough to wear anyone down.

Expecting that I won't make my flight and will have to wait however long for the next, I lumber down to the TSA Funzone, empty my pockets, slip off my New Balance shoes and on and on.. I make it to Gate 21. The SW agents take my boarding pass. I'm the last one to check in.

As I collapsed onto my bed in my apartment, I looked up and thanked God, not because everything worked out for me, but for giving me the comfort knowing that no matter what was going to happen, I would make it home OK.

Peace of mind is underrated.

----

With that said, that was a messed up thing for Southwest to do. Is this expected? Maybe it is. And if it is, that isn't right.

On the Road: San Francisco

I'm in my hotel room in Downtown SF. I'm here all week for a conference, and while it's supposed to be a business trip, there are plenty of chances to let loose.

I love my hotel room, for reasons that I'll have to blog about later.

Also, it's kind of cold here. I don't like that.

Back later.

Destination Next

Bangkok -> Chiang Mai -> Phuket -> KL

June 29 - July 13, 2008

It's on.

The Road to the Final Four - Part Three: Stuck in San Antonio

On the day of the Championship Game, I was losing my mind.

We had been staying in our hotel, the Holiday Inn Express, ten minutes away from downtown, killing time, sleeping in our rooms, surfing the net, or watching TV. Little things started to get to me.

Like our toiletries:



Regular hotels would label their little bottles with, you know, nouns. But not the Holiday Inn Express! They would rather you associate the correct verb to their bath products. Call it a learning experience. I'm pretty sure I washed my hair with body lotion all weekend.

The three of us decided to spend the final hours before tip-off wandering this great city. So what do you see in San Antonio? Well, obviously:



The Alamo. It's a lot smaller than I pictured it. And there's nothing particularly special about it. It's just...there.

We then took the half-hour boat tour of the Riverwalk, which is not unlike taking the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland. Except on these boats, you can consume alcohol liberally. Passing by all the swanky restaurants and bars, I noticed a lot of these stores:



There wasn't much official liscense Kansas or Memphis merchandise. But plenty of UCLA and UNC liscense merchandise were available.

We wanted to watch the final somewhere where the beer was flowing and TVs large; Somewhere classy. Somewhere that's genuinely San Antonio.

We went here:



People I know always look down on Hooters, but not me. Where else can you experience fine "Riverwalk Dinning"? Nowhere, I say.

Four hours and 5o hot wings later, Ry, J and I were at peace. Kansas had won the title, the Holiday Inn Express (otherwise known as Jayhawk Central) was jumping. We were exhausted. Also, the hot wings were starting to affect our bodies. I started to hallucinate. It was time to return to L.A.
-------

San Antonio is a great host city. From the moment I stepped out of the plane, I felt like a welcomed guest seeing his distant uncle for the first time. The people are friendly and the food is fantastic. I wish things could have turned out better for us. But the Alamo City did it's best to comfort me.

Thanks, San Antonio.

The Road to the Final Four - Part Two: Gameday

(I'm in the upper level section in the Alamodome, up in the corner. I'm in shock. I can't talk. The guy sitting next to me and my friends asks each of us if we want anything from concessions. Ry and J say no. I ask for a bottle of water. The man, a chatty senior citizen from Alabama and also a Final Four Virgin, nods and heads down the steep flight of stairs.

We hear the sounds of a marching band spring forth. The crowd stands in unison and roars. Out come the North Carolina Tar Heels and Kansas Jayhawks in full glory, ready to start the second game of this nationally televised doubleheader. J wants to leave. Not just the arena, but San Antonio altogether. Ry and I understand. I can't bring myself to get up and walk away.

I can't believe UCLA's season, MY season, has ended. I don't know what to do with myself. The Bruins just lost to Memphis, and I can't wrap my head around that. And the day started out so promisingly...)



All the nervous energy that surrounded San Antonio the night before had tripled. I tried not to think about the game. I wanted to enjoy this fine Texas city on a wonderful Saturday afternoon. It was difficult.



Prior to the game, we checked out Hoop City. It's an expo celebrating college basketball. You can test your three-point skills, measure your vertical, and even hoop it up in a game of 3-on-3. Or you can do what I did; drink as many free Coke products as humanly possible. Coke Zero, it's the best!



We wandered our way down to the Alamodome and found our seats 90 minutes early. Our seats were in a section labeled Upper Level Corner. They weren't kidding. Also, no escalators. Not cool, Alamodome.

We were surrounded by non-Bruins. Kansas fans on our left, Tar Heels on our right. Memphis fans in front. The Alamodome concrete behind.

I'm not a sports writer, so I won't bore you with the details. We lost by fifteen points.

The three of us drowned our sorrows in steak, wine and peach cobbler. All at the Little Rhein Steakhouse in La Villita. Wonderful romantic atmosphere. Perfect for three dudes trying to forget about the last three hours of their lives. It didn't help that Memphis fans dressed as Fat Elvis paraded down the Riverwalk with their victory chants.

With two days left in San Antonio, we were at a loss for what to do. The thought of leaving the next day and getting out of this depressing place crossed our minds. But with the pressures of rooting my team to a Championship erased, I decided to turn this trip from a quest to full-on vacation. It was time to relax and try to enjoy the Alamo City.

If only we knew what to do...

The Road to the Final Four - Part One: So, This is Texas

San Antonio wasn't meant to be a vacation.

I had one thing on my mind; a National Championship. I had devoted the past five months to cheering on my UCLA Bruins. I saw every game. I read every news article. I wore blue at all times. For me and my friends Ry and J, Our trip to San Antonio was not a vacation. It was a mission.

Unfortunately, thousands of fans from three other universities felt the same way. Such was the scene on a pleasant Friday afternoon, sitting by the Riverwalk, sipping on sweet tea out of a Texas-sized glass. A mass of blue shirts and basketball jerseys, some bearing Kansas logos, some Memphis, some North Carolina, some UCLA, bustling down the San Antonio River. Everyone full of nervous energy. Everyone afraid to stare at their opponents in the eye. Everyone quick to spot fellow Jayhawks, Tigers, Tar Heels and Bruins. Everyone reluctant to talk trash, yet unhesitant to start trouble if provoked. Welcome to the Final Four.

Before going into the actual Gameday festivities, I must say something about San Antonio. This city loves Mariachi bands.



This was the site that welcomed me and Ry at the airport.



In fact, these musicians were so fond of me, that they followed me all day! Here I am trying to enjoy a beer at Cafe Ole, by the Riverwalk. At first it was kinda cool having a group of Mariachis trailing me, but then it got weird.






OK, they didn't really follow me around, but believe me, there were bands up and down the Riverwalk, doing their best to make city folk like me feel like they were getting an authentic Texas experience. It worked.

The rest of the evening was spent pounding down ribs and beers, crawling from one pub to next, making small talk with fellow Bruins, but all my friends and I could think about was the next day. The next day would either make us incredibly happy, or terribly depressed.

We were in for a wild ride.