Made in Japan, Outsourced Globally

Shamefully, I had never been to the Pink Party in the Castro on the eve of the Gay Pride Parade. I figured that this would be one of my few chances to dispell that curse - the consequence was disasterous.


In the 4-block radius of the Castro district, people poured into the streets with drinks in hand, jiving, making out, enjoying good company. After 30 minutes of sauntering, a bathroom experience from hell, and a cosmo and margarita that tasted like paint thinner and petrol, Kristie and I had nothing else to do. Most likely the same exact thought crossed both of our minds: are we the only heteros in this entire place???

Not that it was a bad thing. We just felt lost and totally out of place.

"It's like we're in a foreign country without a passport."

With that, we retreated for a quiet night. To be frank, we weren't quite Queer as Folk - we were just too Sex and the City. We snuggled on the couch watching Season 4.

The next day, we headed towards Market Street in downtown San Francisco to watch the Gay Pride Parade. I even got my mom & dad to come this year - definitely a culture shock to conservative Asian parents.

The parade always starts with the revving of the engines by Dykes on Bikes


... followed by Mikes on Bikes - ding ding!


Thanks for clarifying



Various floats with leather, muscle, and drag


Immigrant lovers - separated by the US border


Pro-gay marriage signs




Christian & Gay = OK! - There were also gay Catholic and Jewish churches proudly marching in the streets


Department of Public Health advocates safety - the Syphilis came running after the float


It's a family thing - one of my favorite signs read: "I love my two Moms!" The kids were really excited to get to march in such a big crowd


The sign reads: "100% sure"


So what do you believe in? - Responsible non-monogamy through participation in multiple and simultaneous loving relationships. Welcome back to the sixties.


The masked leather hero on stilts


I like balloooooons!!!


The dancin' queens




Flamin'




Kristie and I: "Mmm... we like Altoids..."

This was the third pride parade I have been to in San Francisco. It's amazing how many people participate and come watch the entire city in festivity - but it's also so damn long (we gave up after 3 hours this time). Native American gays, gay veterans, tranny association, save the pit bulls, Gold's Gym, Rocky Horror Picture Show, Good Vibrations, marching bands, gay water polo team, parents and friends of lesbians and gays (PFLAG), Project Openhand (HIV/AIDS soup kitchen), Smirnoffs float, Latino gays, Catholic church in Castro, school districts advocating equal rights, pro-gay marriage camp, lesbian midwivery club... okay, you get the idea.

It's definitely an affirmation that this City is proud as can be.

If someone up there had meant to make the most beautiful person - inside & out - giver her wits, charisma, the smarts, and the innate ability to flirt, he/she probably created Trisha.

There's something about this girl - everyone just can't get enough of her! Of all places in the US, she landed in California to wean herself off of the "Totally Asia" experience. She was in Hong Kong for researching modern Chinese politics and zoomed her way down-under for the OZ-Kiwi lifestyle.


Tatjana, Trisha, Andreas - all in a blurry, somewhere in LKF.

We shared some incredible fun in Lan Kwai Fong, a notorious evening in Wan Chai, and a spontaneous trip to South China together. It was nice to have a chat with her in San Fran, as the waiter flirted shamelessly with her in the hotel lobby (haha :). Can't wait to see you out in the East Coast - we'll have a grand ol' reunion!!!

Gordon just put photos of San Francisco on his website - he definitely has the photographer's view of the world (and he's been to quite a few places).

Thanks, Flash! :) I miss you already!

I doubt that it was mere coincidence that I happen to stumble upon references to Aristophanes' explanation of the origin of love repeatedly within 2 days. A book on Buddhism and Japanese fiction were the most unlikely match, except for their distinct mention of Plato's Symposium.

According to Aristophanes, humans had a different form in the time of the Greek gods - there were three types: a male-male, female-female, and a male-female. These beings were ajoined physically, possessing 4 arms, 4 legs, 2 faces, etc. However, they caused much havoc to the gods, so Zeus split each apart with his lightning bolts to punish and to debilitate them.

Ever since, they longed to be united in their original form.

"...human nature was originally one and we were a whole, and the desire and pursuit of the whole is called love."

Romantically, this can be the model explanation of soul mates. Finding the other half that completes you.

Physiologically (in ancient Greece), this was a way of explaining homo-eroticism as a completely natural process (if you read further, you will find Aristophanes' defense of his homosexual peers and even some chiding of heterosexual promiscuity).

It's a story that I have yet to draw a personal conclusion out of. A non-believer misses out on the better story, Pi says. The coincidence of the double references still puzzles me - it makes me think that cotu would be better at enlightening such phenomenons. In the meanwhile, I proceed to lighter reading - Malgudi Schooldays: The Adventures of Swami and His Friends

Last night, I was talking to Lewis, one of the Sun interns (whom I secretly thought was a daunting character, judging from his height of being 2.5 times as me - but turned out to be a nice and interesting guy).

The conversation started in innocent and casual chit-chat of "what do you do?" "how do you know each other (pointing at my friend Gordon)?" As we warmed up with casual banter, he asked me the question that stumps most people in return:

"What did you study in school?"
"Developmental Economics (it's actually Development Studies, but I say this to avoid the confusing and annoying explanation that it's not human psychological development)."
"...uh, right... and what do you do?"
"Well, I'll be working for a company that does consumer packaging for pharmaceuticals, tobacco, cosmetics, software products, etc."

Once I briefly explain what Development Studies is (study of Third World economies, societies, and politics - globalization, geography, theories, yaddi-yaddi-yadda), he exclaims,
"So, you are trying to help the Third World, yet you've sold your soul to a tobacco company!"

Not exactly. But for the sake of party talk, the conversation sinks deeper into the moral dilemma of altruistic background versus being absorbed as a cog in the wheel of corporate capitalism. It pains me to explain my broad thinking on this subject matter, especially at a venue of lighter atmosphere, so I let the bantering go on. But here's the real deal (and Lewis, if you happen to read this, well, you'll know that I am not as shallow as you think -haha):

Development Studies in itself is a dead study. I say this, not out of disrespect to the scholars, but because it is a study of history and theories. 'Development' connotes that something is premature and must be 'developed' from point A to point B. I had trouble swallowing this concept at first, because this also meant that society at large (rich, First World countries with military prowess) was determining who was 'developed' and who 'wasn't developed.'

In this day and age, if one is working to 'help Third World countries,' you are imagined as 'one who picks dirt in the villages as some NGO worker, providing basic needs.' That would be a very narrow definition of 'helping.'

First of all, I believe the attitude of 'helping' should:
- Have self-sustainability as the end goal
- Increase connectivity between societies to share resources (ideas, natural resources, industrial goods, ability to trade)
- Be viewed as benefitial to not only the local community, but to the global community at large
I believe the difference between a push-and-shove aid/support and one that actually has the above three intentions makes a huge difference in the end result.

Secondly, the scope of development should be identified, and then focused:
Basic needs, health care, civil engineering, education, agriculture, local community development, environmental issues, dissolving conflicts, employment. These are all areas that can be improved in different parts of the world today. Of all these areas, employment stands out as one of the most significant and challenging to me - an area that I personally would like to work on.

Unemployment leads to social frustration and criminal activities, of small and large. Rape and sexual activities increase as ways of spending time and releasing the frustration (it's not a far-fetched theory). Unemployment leads to domestic violence and could send a child begging in the streets - or - even selling the child away to make ends meet for the family.

Employment, on the other hand, can bring more stability to family life and motivate the members of society to create a better environment (a safer neighborhood, good schools nearby for the children, infrastructure that brings benefits to the community, etc). The ability to generate income on one's own unshackles an individual from dependence.

The fact that I will be spending my next few years gaining business skills is still part of a grander scheme of things in my contribution to society. I actually view myself as a conduit of skills and knowledge - the more I learn how to do something, I will be able to transfer those skills and knowledge to locations that could use them. The future is still an open book - I could be building an NGO, joining an already existing international institution, building a company, working within a large company to leverage influence, etc. Who knows? Ultimately, I want to head in the direction of job creation in parts of the world that will benefit from such development. An idealist with some hard skills - now that's scary stuff!!! :)

I'm still doing my information gathering though (right, Drake?)

Development studies and working in the corporate world are not completely polar things. At least Mr. Gates and I don't think so. Lastly, Lewis mentioned that he studies Cognitive Science and Artificial Intelligence at Uni, and intends to be in I-banking when he starts working. He joked that he wouldn't really use his B.S. background in the world of I-banking - I believe he was bluffing as much as I about the usefulness of what we learn academically.

It was a monumentous night, as we celebrated the good year spent by the Sun interns in the Bay Area. They are a hilarious, topsy-turvy, interesting bunch, and the only negative thing I have to say about them is that they didn't get to meet me earlier.

It's actually quite incredible how these guys bonded and made the most out of their time in the US. Most of them will travel in the US for the next 30 days (maximum # of days allowed after their working visa expires). Bon voyage, fellas.

Put Kristie and me together, and you get trouble - well, usually. This was probably the first weekend that I didn't wake up next to her in a drunken stupor. I just remember laughing a lot last night. Dan dropping dallops of Hypnotiq into people's cups (which KK, Amanda, Martin, Chris and I have developed a pavlovian dog response of shuddering in utter disgust). Brain damage (the conversation trying to explain this was beyond sanity). Being introduced as a Hong Kong triad, milking the poor psychiatrist for ecstasy pills. And the list goes on...

I am enjoying the somewhat anonymous status in this group. You can make up all sorts of stories about yourself, and people will believe it.

Tonight, I'm going to wear my pink leopard print shirt and the zebra striped cowboy hat to the Pink Party in the City (it's a pity that I lost the pink feather boa somewhere). I missed Bay to Breakers, so I might as well try another one of SF's famous festivities.

Last night, I looked into the mirror and found one too many creases. I recounted how much I have been in the sun for the past week - I have been outside every single frickin' day.

On Saturday, Martin and I scraped ourselves from the disaster the night before and headed down to San Jose (on his sweet convertible - nice! :) for a soccer tournament. It's moments like this when you feel the awesome internationalism of Aiesec - we had about 30 players and people cheering from the sideline - Azerbaijan, France, Germany, Scottland, Japan, Sweden, Egypt, Singapore, Hong Kong, Philippines, Dominican Republic, Hungary, Brazil, Turkey... we had a lot of nationalities - represent! Besides, I loved our amazingly-good-looking team - 3 cute French men, 1 hot Swede, and me (well, you can't have it all, I guess).

On Sunday, Gordon arrived from Hong Kong. It was his first time in the US, and I was definitely going to settle scores with this guy (we had an interesting discussion while in HK about the US - he was convinced that Americans shoot people over parking spaces, drive huge monster trucks, are obesely rolling in the streets, and love Bush unconditionally). I'm glad he chose San Francisco to start weaning off that kind of crazy talk.



In the guise of "taking Gordon on a tour of San Francisco," I got to experience the City all over again. We did Pier 39, Fisherman's Wharf, Lombard Street (the windiest road in the world), Ghiradelli Square, Golden Gate Bridge, China Town, North Beach, Sony Metreon, walking down Embarcadero at night, and Alcatraz within the last 3 days. Gordon is ecstatic about the weather and the views - I breathe in the crisp air and smile.

My heart is in San Francisco

I figured Gordon took enough photos for the both of us (he has 2 cameras), so I only have a few to show. I finally went to Alcatraz, which I have been putting off because being a local, you just don't participate in those sort of touristy activities. I obviously gave in this time.

Welcome to the Rock

The Rock!


Alcatraz was supposed to be the most frightful prison ever - famous convicts such as Al Capone checked in here.

After the government officially shut down Alcatraz as a state prison, native Americans took hold of the island to protest for Native American rights. The seize lasted for 19months (the demise due to the unravelling of their own unity and the state marshalls arresting the remaining protestors).


In the entire history of Alcatraz prison: 8 people committed suicide, 3 wardens were killed (trying to stop riots/escapes), no convict was ever executed on the island. Numerous escape attempts were made, but only 3 prisoners made a successful escape (and were never heard from again).


The square hole under the sink was made by one of the prisoners who successfully escaped from Alcatraz. The trio climbed between walls, crawled along the water pipes and escaped outside (Hmm... Shawshank Redemption, anybody?)

All in all, I disagree that the Rock was the "most frightful prison" - I thought that the French prison in Hanoi for reeducating Vietnamese rebels was 100 times more trecherous with all the brutal torturing practices and displays of guillotines in the courtyard.

Just when you thought your socks were drying...
It's been fun observing the place I thought familiar a year and half ago. Things have changed, people have changed. Tower Records closed down, our favorite karaoke hangout is an Indian curry house, and I don't recognize anybody on campus anymore. I went to school in Berkeley for 4 years, and those 4 years have faded away with the changing tides.

And things haven't changed, and some people haven't changed. Walking down Telegraph Avenue, the same old crazy lady in a blue construction helmet was selling her dirty cabbage patch kid dolls and knit beanies. The street vendor gave me an eye and said, "you dirty hippie, I know you're smoking all those dope." The smell of urine and marijuana become stronger as you walk towards the Oakland side.

Out of all the places I have lived in the US, I really think the Bay Area (or Northern California) has a win-win combination of being the most comfortable and interesting.

I can't believe I will be taking off from this amazing place soon... I did it before, and I can do it again. But...

...You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave...

Mel beat me to it - we're working for the same company, and I will be based out of Warrington, Pennsylvania starting August 1, with some travel to New York. I will be working on marketing development, in cooperation with manufacturing for cosmetic packaging.

The key phrases here are: marketing development, operational strategy, and New York.

Excited!

"So you 'live in the moment' - but do you ever get lonely?"
It started with a conversation about lonliness. Lonliness, to me, seemed like a state of mind.

Tonight I won't be alone, but you know that don't mean I'm not lonely - Bon Jovi

The question also reminded me of a chapter in a book I was reading recently. According to the Dalai Lama, his source of happiness comes from intimacy with multiple beings; therefore, he never gets lonely. This logic seems conceivable only by a celibate monk or a polygamist with a harem, but the statement was rocking my world and shifting my paradigm.

So what about multiple intimacy? Somehow, the culture we live in seems to be intoxicated with the belief in "the ONE" - the one I will fall in love with, my one and only soul mate, my one true love, yaddi, yaddi, yadda...

If you actually did find your one soul mate, congratulations! But what if things didn't work out with 'the one'? Or you were still searching for "the right one?" - Do you feel like you've failed in your one and only purpose in life? Do you waste your time until you find him/her?

Intimacy does not necessarily require a romantic relationship with another being. Rather, it can mean openness, sharing, and understanding at a level that brings great comfort and joy between two sentient beings. Intellectual intimacy, emotional intimacy, physical intimacy, heck - even intimacy through common joy in music. Willingness to open up and to reciprocate acceptance seems to be the key to happiness - and a way to shed lonliness.

It was enlightening. I can't convert overnight, but it definitely gives a wider scope for achieving daily happiness.

Little Takasu is out of town until end of August. Except he's not so little, compared to me. Take care and enjoy your time in the big mean corporate world.

I watched Casablanca for the first time while ironing a dozen and 1/2 shirts. A classic tale of sacrifice for love. Great quotes and a beautiful on-screen duo by Bogart and Bergman.

Probably my favorite lines were:
Major Strasser: What is your nationality?
Rick: I'm a drunkard.
Captain Renault: That makes Rick a citizen of the world.

"We'll always have Paris" came to a close second, I guess.

I have become pretty good at ironing - I guess that's what you get when you have enough shirts to iron through a whole movie. It makes me wonder why I can't smooth out all the complications in life like so.

Got problems? Whoop out an iron.

I never learned this in high school... boy, they take drug education quite literally...

Hida Beef is a deliciously tender steak with just the right amount of fat to melt right on your tongue (see how it is cooked pinkish rare to perfection?). Divine radish and ginger soy sauce top it off.

Fresh wasabi flower side dish, heart-warming miso soup, bowl of steaming rice and a crisp salad go well with the entree.

Move over, Kobe Beef.

When my cousin and I first wanted to take a "short weekend trip," we were determined to see the Japanese sakura (cherry blossoms).


The famous Sakura at Yoshino Mountain in Nara - this is what we wanted to go see

Unfortunately, it had been unusually cold in Japan this year (I was there late March - early April) and the flowers were to blossom much later than my stay. It's actually quite humorous how the entire nation is on edge about when the flowers are going to blossom (there are even people who observe the blossoms as their profession - and the Prime Minister declares the official blossom in Tokyo).

So... my cousin and I decided to head South, still hoping that we could see a glimpse of the blossoms. We headed to Shikoku, one of the four major islands of Japan (others being Hokkaido, Honshu, and Kyushu). Of course, we wouldn't be able to see everything, but we chose some "meisho" (famous places) of interest and let our stomach determine where to stop.

Saki & Hiroe's Route:
Nagoya --> Okayama --> Takamatsu --> Naruto --> Tokushima --> Ooboke/Koboke --> Takamatsu --> Nagoya


Legend of the Peach Boy (Momotaro)

We stopped in Okayama only because it was the last bullet train stop that went to Shikoku (if we went further, we would have been in Hakata). To be honest, the only thing this city is known for is the legend of the Peach Boy. We even found out that the "Ogre Island" in the fable was actually closer to the Takamatsu side (along with "Woman Island" and "Man Island" - I'm not quite sure why they were called that).

On to Takamatsu...

Tsukimi Udon ("Tsukimi" means "to see the moon" - like the egg in the middle)

One of the major reasons we chose to travel in Shikoku is because my cousin absolutely loves udon. The Sanuki region (in Northeast Shikoku) is a major udon region. It can definitely pride in the variety and the quality of the noodles.


Udon Buffet - get in line and choose your ingredients


Tempura Udon - the tempura was too big to fit in the bowls

Including the return trip, we ate a total of 6 bowls of udon between the two of us. And then we bought udon as souveniers at Takamatsu on the way back. Uf... deliciously full.

Naruto

Naruto is known for several things - kintoki yams, seaweed, "Uzushio" (or the whirlpool), and the land of historical romance (Minamoto Yoshitsune and Shizuka Gozen).


You can go across the bridge at the hour of the tides to see the two different currents come together - the calm Seto Inland Sea and the aggressive Pacific Ocean collide to make the natural phenomenon


The Uzushio is quite a spectacle, especially at high tide. If you fall in, you will never be able to swim out of it.

After udon hunting and seeing the Uzu, we decided to stop for the night in Tokushima

We had been looking through guidebooks for a good restaurant, and we thought we would give this 'Shishikui' a try. As seen in this picture, the women (with no diving gear, just their own pair of good lungs) dive underwater to gather the fresh seafood (this is called 'Ama-ryori'). It's a bit pricy because it is a dying art, but it's also nice to know that the tradition goes on.


To tell the truth, we were also drawn to the "Setta Ebi" (the red shrimp that's in half at the top), which is a shrimp that has a flat head. It tastes sweet but its meat is more refined than a crab. Some abalone sashimi and a little shrimp is also pictured here. The little sucker on the top right was actually alive when I ate it - it protested in my mouth and put up its last fight down to the esophagus.


The Ise Ebi is considered a real delicacy - although with an exterior much like a lobster, I think it is much tastier and sweeter than a lobster. What was particularly interesting about this one was - yup - it was still alive. Despite of us eating his insides, his nerves were still intact and his whiskers and legs were moving.

*Disclaimer: It may seem very cruel and odd that we are eating all these creatures alive, but in Japanese culture, we believe that we are receiving life when we are eating live food. It is the freshest and purest way of receiving an energy of an animal - and we are very grateful for them giving us life.


The Setta Ebi are getting a grilling here


Manpuku~ ^_^ (full & happy)


And of course, you can't forget some nice sake with good food! My cousin and I decided to try every sake on the menu, one by one. We actually found a liking to a local citrus sake called "Sudachuu," which tasted like gin and tonic concoction with a kalamansi-like fruit.


And as long as we are on the topic of alcohol, we shopped at a convenience store after dinner (to look for more "Sudachuu") and picked up this drink. I just liked the name of it - "Reggae Punch"!

One thing that I really like about traveling in Japan is the train rides. You can definitely go everywhere by train.
Train station in rural Japan

You also get some interesting trains, like this Anpanman Train. It's a children's cartoon character. When we went to Hokkaido a few years ago, we took the Doraemon Train in the undersea tunnel.

Another good reason to take trips on trains - buying bento with food of the region and eating them on your way to the next destination. Mmm... sushi.

We didn't really know what to expect in Ooboke. This was the last leg of the trip, and I wanted to go to a hot spring. This was probably the best part of the entire trip.

Ooboke Station

Japan is full of puns - "Ooboke" literally means "A very dangerous place to fall," but if you heard "Ooboke," it also means "Big clutz" or "Big looney". Without knowing the literal meaning, I thought that the people living here had quite a sense of humor. (In reality, people back in the days found the steep and slippery cliffs to be very dangerous).

When we approached Ooboke, we saw the rivers turn from a mossy color to this brilliant hue of glossy blue. It was unlike any water I had ever seen. Everyone on the train stood up, mesmerized by the sight that passed them by outside the window. We couldn't wait to get to Ooboke and walk around.

Yoshino River and Sakura at Ooboke

We got to see sakura afterall...

This hot spring was called "the hidden waters" - meaning that it was a little known secret. Well, thanks to advertising on guidebooks, it wasn't that much a secret.

The hot spring was relaxing and made our skins 100 times smoother. We also enjoyed the outdoor hot spring and the calm mountain scenery.

Hiroe and I wanted to walk around until the next train, but the weather was very bizarre - rain one minute, sunshine the next, a thunder in the distance... When there was a sudden down pour, we stopped in front of a house. A man who was walking, who also happened to be the owner of the house, approached us and lended us his umbrella. People are so nice and trusting here.

Koinobori - these fish-shaped windsocks are for Children's Day (May 5). When families do not have small children anymore, I guess they donate them as decoration for the valley.

The black one is the father, the red is the mother, and the small blue one is the child.

There is so much to do in Japan, but I think we did pretty well for a 1night/2days trip. It may seem like we were searching after good food all the time... well, actually I can't refute that because Japan is full of delicious spots. I can't wait to travel more in this beautiful country.

These kids crack me up.



My brother and his friends have been making some music for the last couple weeks - they accumulated enough tracks to make an album. They are now having a CD Release Party at the neighborhood pool.

Hear them online:
How, do you think, does the internet (or mp3) change the music industry?
"It makes crap like us able to permeate the music industry and proliferate it with our noise."

I had a bit of a flashback when I met up with my high school friend, Becky, who is on her brief pilgrimage from Ann Arbor, MI. This girl has the best memory (it's probably a good thing that she is studying law) and an endless stock of hilarious misadventures.

My highschool friends had very specific qualities, which qualified us as nerds and geeks of some sort. I had just changed schools and was determined to find the most intriguing group of people - I was very fortunate to find a group of geniuses and eccentrics. We had the science fair winning Asians, math-enthusiasts who had to go to JCs instead of regular classes, raging thespians, ballet dancers, a handful of computer hackers, and aspiring politicial scientists. There was also a kid who had a new injury almost every week from the stunts he pulled, made home-made bombs, and was on the local paper for setting his brother on fire (accidentally).

We were all too arrogant for any authority, and yet a bit of a coward to go all the way and fight for our causes (or perhaps a bit lazy). We knew that there was life beyond high school and couldn't wait to disengage from the gated penitentiary we called 'school.' Most of my friends aced through classes with as much effort as breathing (e.g. - scoring high on SAT a day after an mxpx concert and never cracking open a study guide). Some of my friends had gotten in trouble with the school authority, but it was all very political (e.g. - arguing that a NIN bumper sticker that said 'Kill!' was a freedom of speech and none of their business). It was much more civil than when kids were being arrested for possession of pot and guns at my old high school. I even miss the endless days that we lounged at Borders to write our cases for competition civics (I can't believe we used to extensively study cases like Brown v. Board of Education, Topeka and Marbury v. Madison - I can hardly remember what they are now).

Religion was a big thing - since we had a Christian camp and a strictly atheist camp amongst us. It also gets very interesting when 60% of your school is Christian or Mormon. It was especially a sticky situation at graduation when one of the guys wanted to prosletize Christianity in his salutatorian speech (I think he was on 'Politically Incorrect' for it?) - and continued to sue the school when he went off to college. I think most of us were enraged and embarrassed. Afterall, it was also a fact that the Catholic girl who told us that we were all "going to burn in hell because [we] didn't believe in God" was also the first to get pregnant with one of our friends (the kid went for adoption). Being immoral was not contemptuous to us - being stupid was.

These intellectual rebels - I salute them for being who they were.

Becky and I plan on strolling through the streets of Berkeley soon. She was my saving grace in many of my classes, such as Ancient Greek Philosophy (where I would fall asleep 10min into lecture - and lecture began 10min into class), Calculus (with a Russian professor whom I could never understand) and English Lit (with our sadistic, hateful TA and Dartmouth, Free Palestine political activist TA). Situated in a lecture room of 100~300, it can get lonely and boring at times. In retrospect, I think I peaked in studying at grade 11. It was all I needed to get into college and then do my soul-searching.

Do I want to relive high school again? - are you kidding me? I would rather be reborn from a cow's womb (which means 'not in my lifetime').

I need to learn when to push and when to pull back. It's just not fun being underappreciated and scoured at, especially when it involves physical threats. Take your aggression elsewhere. I don't need it.

Awkwardness is embarrassing and painful - for both the instigator and the recipient.

C-O-L-O.... R-A-D-O....

Trouble.

Since Drake is having some soul searching drama, I kind of wanted to throw out my thoughts on "happiness."

On a personal level, I see happiness as something that is 1) very dynamic. It comes and goes in waves, and can also come back in a loop. Furthermore, 2) happiness can have a stable form or a fleeting form (think: teddy bear in your room vs. an ice cream cone).

Given these two properties, my image of happiness is a bunch of wonderful warm balls of "Happiness". Then, people with basket-full of "Happiness" give their balls to fill up other people's baskets. It's not always a reciprocal relationship and the exchange can sometimes be uneven - and that's just the way it is. It's also not a zero-sum game - the amount of the balls depend on how much you are willing to give, not by the amount of wealth you have nor the size of your basket.

And if you look more closely at the interaction of these "Happiness" exchange, you see that even the smallest gift of "Happiness" encourages one to do more of the giving. It's like casting a stone in a pond to make ripples. The small amount of "Happiness" may not last for long - it may or may not live until it makes that ripple. But in some cases, you get multiple "small Happiness" at a time that amount to a bigger "Happiness". You can also resurrect some "Happiness" through memory - it's dynamic.

Sometimes, you have special people you give your ball of "Happiness" to. The size of the ball is much bigger than the ones you give to others and you continue to give to these special people.

My purpose in life, as I see it, is to radiate as much "Happiness" as possible in hopes that I am making ripples. It can be as small as greeting everyone you meet on the street (come on, doesn't it make your day when a perfect stranger smiles at you in the morning?) or as life-changing as employing the bread-winner of a low-income family in Kenya. I'm not going to lie, I don't always do the giving - I am constantly a recipient of many "Happinesses."

There's much more I would like to write about this topic, but I have to go walk my dog (and not deprive him of his happiness, I guess). Things aren't always rosy in this world, but you just have to keep on going.

Right now, Mathis' posts are making me happy :) (I am rolling on the floor).

'Taman Negara' means 'Park National' in Malay. 6 hours busride up North from the urbanesque Kuala Lumpur, it was a treat to see all the green. This is an aside, but I always connect "Malaysia" with "green" - flying over Malaysia from Ho Chi Minh, all I saw was luscious broccoli-like landscapes with narrow red-dirt trails. When driving on the highways, you see endless expanse of palm trees and tropical vegetation. Green.



In order to get to Taman Negara, you have to take another 3-hour boat ride from Jerantut to Kuala Tehan. This is only the beginning:


... and for the next 3 hours, you see this (on a 16-people long boat):


What's interesting about Taman Negara is that you can do the touristy 2nights/3days casual lodging or the hard-core 7-9days hiking/backpacking to the center of the jungle. There's no in-between. Of course, I didn't have 7-9 days nor the spare cash to hire a private guide, so I was on the usual package deal.


Canopy walk - my expectation was deceived, and I didn't get to see any monkeys. But it was still nice to walk on top of canopies that sometimes went as high as 45m off the ground. You are surrounded by the sound of tropical insects and exotic birds.


Excuisite view from the top


I wonder how old this tree is... since it has no tree rings. I had forgotten that tropical areas don't have seasons, hence, no tree rings. Just one of those interesting realizations you have when traveling (that there are places in the world where it is 38-degrees C year-round).

Our guide carved a piece of a root and gave it to me - he told me that Americans use it for drinks. Sure enough, it was a piece of sarsaparilla (the herb used in root beer). It was fascinating to think that so many natural secrets could be hiding here in this jungle.

Donkit Ali - natural viagra of the forest. The Orang Asli men told us tongue in cheek that it gives you "three legs" when you drink it in the morning before going hunting. Someone told me that it translates as "Ali's leg."

Orang Asli Settlement

One theme of my travels was to see something "exotic" and "out of the ordinary" - I didn't really mean it to be a minority tribe tour, but there was an opportunity to meet the Orang Asli tribes in Taman Negara. Eh... I have mixed feelings, because touring minority villages has become all too commercialized. It's such a strange feeling to have people peer into your living room (which is a blue plastic tarp hanging from a clothesline) and flashing their cameras.

The settlement that we visited had about 30 people. Each settlement has a chief, who is the strongest hunter and the wisest medicine man. His wife automatically becomes the medicine woman of the tribe as well. When women in the tribe are about to give birth, the pregnant woman, the chief and his wife go to a private area in the forest to deliver the baby. They are midwives of the tribe as well.

The chief demonstrates how to make a poison blowdart.

We saw a peculiar-looking mailbox made out of grass. In fact, the guide told us that it was a miniature model of an Orang Asli burial site. When someone in the tribe dies, the men carry the body to a sacred site that nobody knows and hoist the body into the trees so that the birds can eat the body - very much a circle of life/return to nature concept. The Orang Asli people are very spiritual (in both an animistic and ancestor worship way), so they will pick up and go if they feel that the spirits are angry or in disagreement with their settlement (e.g. - if someone in the tribe is ill for a long time, they will attribute it to the spirits telling them a message).

Hunting is a way of life for the Orang Asli. The blowdart is one of their main ways of hunting, using the potent poison from Ipoh trees. They have to immediately cut off the animal part hit by the dart so that the meat is not affected. They say that monkeys runaway quickly, so they have to cut off an entire arm.

And they let silly tourists try too...

A couple of guys from our group tried to hit the target, but missed. So I gave it a try, and bam! Yup, maybe I should become a blowdart hunter. The chief gave me a dart as a souvenier (without the poison, of course).

The poison is on the first 2cm of the dart. The poison is melted in the fire and painted on the tip.

It's important to know how to make fire in the wild, so the Orang Asli gave us a demonstration.

Now, the funny thing is, the guy giving us the demonstration came with a hand-made cigarette in his mouth... and takes a lighter out of his breast pocket, lights his ciggie, and says, "I make fire now." He did the demonstration with rubbing sticks and huffing and puffing, eventually creating a flame, but we weren't truly convinced that they did this all the time.

Just Chillin' in the Jungle

One of the things we did at Taman Negara was riding the long wooden boats to 'shoot the rapids,' which is kind of like white water rafting, only in wooden boats. Unfortunately, it was dry season, so the ride wasn't very long, but we still had fun in the water. (Actually, it was a good thing that it was dry season, because wet season = leeches).

Natural face paints

I met this Zimbabwean girl, who is now living in the UK. It was interesting to hear her experience and perspective of being a white woman growing up and living in Zimbabwe.

Sometimes traveling is as interesting as the mixed company you get. A couple of blokes from Australia, a pair of young German girls, a sweet New Zealand couple, a Muslim pair (we didn't see much of the girl), and a retired couple from the British Royal Air Force.

It was especially interesting to listen to the old British couple, who were in Malaysia during Merdeka. What struck me about their opinion is that they didn't feel that Malaysia had necessarily become more peaceful after independence. Muslim Malays, Hindus, and the Chinese had existed as separate communities, and upon merdeka, they had been artificially lassoed into a single state that had to find common threads of unity. It's not an easy answer, because the demand for independence from the British (and the Japanese during WWII) had been enough to offset this uncomfortable unity. But I'll save this debate for another day.

Wild life

This is what I looked forward to the most - the prospect of spotting exotic critters that are out of this world. But I guess it takes years of training and tremendous luck in order to really see the amazing leopards, tapirs, and other cool wildlife.

Nocturnal Bug Watch

The stick insect. I missed the shot of the leaf insect (a lot more elaborate and fascinating), but these creatures are only active by night and tend to be hidden cleverly in the woods during the day. And as always, the female is bigger than the male. This one is obviously a male.

Scorpion - ooo... ahh... Being a scorpio myself didn't really help much - they are just darn scary. But then again, we kept on disturbing them by tantalizing them with twigs (they hide underneath logs and go after small moving objects at the entrance of the holes. So keep that in mind when you next step into a rain forest).

We saw some spiders and timber ants (the largest ant I have ever seen - their bite can break through skin, and when contested with another ant, they will fight to death). Other than that not much. Although one night, a girl and I crept quietly to a hide (kind of like a salt lick) and we saw a mother-offspring pair of eyes. We couldn't figure out if they were tapirs or wild boars.

We had more luck on the boat ride back to Jerantut.

Water buffalos! - eh, we saw a whole bunch of them actually (and I saw plenty while I was in Borneo).

Unfortunately, I cannot show the other animals we saw (monitor lizard, river otters, monkeys, kingfishers) because my camera couldn't capture them. It was an enjoyable boat ride, much like a treasure hunt.

This looks like a nice photo, but what you don't see is the chain on the leg of this elephant. She is a working elephant for some touristy deed or lumber project. It's sort of sad in a way.

Some monkeys I was able to capture on camera :) Orang Asli kids playing in the river.

After thought: Compared to the adventures I had in Vietnam, my time in Malaysia seemed to pass much slower. Much like the long wooden boats gliding on the green green water. When I returned to KL, a pretty nice event was waiting for me (I'm still kicking myself that I lost the photos). I still need to make it out to the pristine Malaysian beaches (Palau Tioman, Palau Perhentian) - I will be back.

What a bizarre film. You either love it - hate it - or don't understand it. Delving into existentialism makes me want to put my head in the ground like an ostrich and contemplate for a while.

My mother makes this one dish that she calls the "Egyptian dish" - only because it was the one recipe that our Egyptian neighbors in Japan taught us. We Indian-ize it with some radishes, tomatoes, and boiled eggs. There goes my workout.

The so-called "album workout" is still on. Thus far, I have been able to jog to albums by the Chemical Brothers, 1999-2004 Rave Collection, The Killers, John Frusciante, Black Eyed Peas, and Lyrics Born without stopping. I welcome any additions to the list.

Jude Law is still hot, even as a prick sales executive.

time: 3:51am
status: pupils-wide-open

Tantalized by nostalgia, I moronically drank Vietnamese coffee at 10pm. The condenced milk sits heavily in my stomach while I can't even wring out a single yawn.

I contemplated what I will do in the coming week, knowing that a TO DO list is as useful as an avocado seed carver (excessively flashy and usually hidden cunningly in the corner of the drawer). It conjures a Chinese adage about snake's feet. There once was an art competition before the emperor to draw the most beautiful snake. One artist painted so quickly that he felt the urge to draw something more on the snake: feet. This earned him more of an embarrassment than an honor, because snakes don't have feet. It explains the virtues of minimalism.

If I truly need to do something, it should be obvious.

Classics are great in their own genre, but reading business books published before 2003 (2004 even) makes me hesitant. Route 128 withered away (some claim that stability and conservatism was always a hinderance) and Silicon Valley has definitely become more conservative with the dot.bomb. Is it still worth it to read a SV-Bangalore Indus Entrepreneurs' book? Or is there a whole different paradigm and new way to view economic geography altogether?

With all the musical ruckus in the house (my brother and his friends are making songs day-in-day-out), I was determined to make my own noise. I was going to start playing the guitar, but my fingers were too short to reach some of the chords comfortably - so I resorted to my old gear.

My violin has a sexy figure - slender neck (skinnier than the average), tiger striped back, and a rich resonating body. I feared that its lack of maintenance would have resulted in some worm-eaten parts or hideous cracks from arid temperature. But there she sat, royally in the verdian green velvet. The only thing I had to fix was a broken G-string.

Within the first 30 minutes, I discover that my fingers know where they want to be. I no longer read sheet music with my eyes but with every muscle, nerve, vibration that comes through the instrument. The rigid text-book style is gone, as I sway with every stroke and tap my foot to every note count.

The feeling in my fingers are electric.

People cry when someone dies,
Because they feel sorry for their own sadness.
The one-man drama opens -
'Ah, poor me...'
The tear ducts well up.

But that 'humanness' is what makes us loveable.
A solid chunk of ego. Of desires. Of logic. Of irrationality.
People are adorable.
The stench of 'human' makes you and I genuine.
I like to breathe that stench inside and out.

'I wish I was 5 inches taller'
'I want people to like me'
'I hope that cute guy calls me'
'I pray for world peace!'

Wants and desires dictate our lives.
Even the most selfless wishes are tainted with egos.
I kind of like that - because it's real.
The more 'human' a person can be,
The more I am attracted to them.
Baring their naked heart.

An evening of hilarious left me with an intoxicated liver and some shameful recollection of the night in clips and phrases. I can't remember having this much fun since I was back in HK. It was good to hang with KK, Amanda, Chris, Martin, and some random people I will probably never meet. It definitely means trouble when you go out with KK.

We went to an indies band concert - none of us really knew the featured band, so we assumed that it was some animal activist hippie band. I guess it really dawned on us when the audience were mostly grungy men and hippie-looking women with the occasional shrooms dealer weaving in and out in crazy-twirly steps. After a couple of beers and 4 or 5 gin and tonics, we thought it was a good idea to move on to a different bar and drink tequila and Coronas. It wasn't. It was a great idea. Kristie puts me to shame by being half my size and still alert by the time I was out.

It's funny how much you can cram into a day, despite your day starting at 11:32am. Reading Murakami's "A Wild Sheep Chase" sends chills down my spine for its literary beauty - sensual, finessed, ingenious writing (bravo to the man who can string together a whale's penis, ultra-rightist politician, an ear model, and a sheepman in one novel).

And then I proceeded to come down from the Murakami high by reading the poor translation of it. Somehow the beauty of the language was whitewashed and hideously morphed into banal 4th-grader typing. The essense was lost, and I feel sorry for people who will never understand the brilliance of his writing. But the converse is also true for other foreign novels that I will never read.