Made in Japan, Outsourced Globally

I had a rude awakening at 4 o-clock this morning. No, it was no grand epiphany. It was a POS who called up to tell me that he was about to board a red eye flight... from LA.

Honestly, who calls at 4am???

You are going down, pengyou. Oh, and don't forget to tell us all how many girls you were able to pick up in Chinese.

After a long day's work, I hop on a 15 min train ride over to the Jersey side. I'm greeted by a whipped-by-the-corporate-world T-rent, quite different from the study abroad student I met in HK.

We walked around town, dined at a BYOB Malaysian restaurant, and reminisced on our Asia adventures (mostly misadventures). Oh, and for the record, I liked Hoboken as soon as I stepped off the train. It's my kind of town.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's true. You've read about it, but here's the photographic evidence of Trent's mental illness.

Nothing beats a homemade hookah. Nothing says "red neck" more than a 3L grape soda with an American flag on it. It's a side business to his hookah business: hookahs for hobos. It's very humanitarian, really.

After work, I immediately called up Omar to see what he was up to. In a New York minute, I was at a delicious Mexican establishment, getting a brain freeze from a chilled margarita.

Barely rolling out of the restaurant with south of the border goodness, we headed over to a hookah bar in the upper East side. We couldn’t help but laugh at the cultural mixture at hand – taking a look at my new Japanese travel essay about Mexico, while discussing his upcoming Korea trip, listening to Turkish music and smoking our sheeshas.

I don’t think I ever had the chance to talk to Omar as much, and I hope I get to have more nights like this. We have a surprisingly similar background on being immigrants and trying to keep our traditions. Yet, we have different outlooks on life, which makes our conversations richer. We spoke of eclectic topics from communism/socialism in Cuba, Soviet Union, China; what to do in Korea; hypocrisy of “free America”; professional goals; personal mantras; Rwanda/Sudan; and how we perceive moments in our lives.

I say, “You can’t step in the same river twice. You need all the elements of ‘the moment’ to be back – which can’t happen, so you appreciate it, and then let go.”
Omar refutes, “But I can always go back. It will always be there, because I can make it happen. I’m an optimist.”

We acknowledge the different spins on our philosophies. Life wouldn’t be interesting otherwise.

We are face to face, unflinching in the moment of confrontation. Her presence on top of me surprises me, as I struggle out of the suffocation. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I begin to see more than a silhouette of the midnight visitor.

O' the tricks our minds play... how is it that, per chance, we look into the most frightening sight of all: ourselves.

She sits smartly with a commanding grimace, looking upwards with those seemingly innocent eyes. But do not be fooled, my friend - there is a sliver of malice in this childish gaze. One blink of an eye, and you won't know what mischief she could cause.

Now moving around freely, she crushes the cigarette, three-quarters ashened, in the sink. Charred porcelain. A slit-eyed, glazed sideways glance - spliced together with absolute disinterest and utter contempt. It is like watching a 3 million dollar antique vase blast into shards on the cold marble floor in slow motion. Chillingly tragic - and you are mesmerized by its mere act that your body cannot react to its fate.

I gather enough strength - a knot in my abdomen - to push her away. She looks shocked. In confusion, I scream, 'It's not my time!' The doppelgänger shudders like a winter fir tree, eyes popped wide open, as if it would start to cry. As suddenly as she arrived, the weight uplifted and the girl dissappeared into the musty hotel air.

Perhaps she only wanted to play. A free spirit of trickery - a reflection of how we once used to be.

Who knew that a working day could consist of tongue scrapers, Paris Hilton, a professional photo shoot and an absent-minded car dealer? The day before, it was talking about the comeback of artwork by gay lithographists and chatting with a guy who designed a brassier-shaped poutpourri sachets (who also happened to be a Hong Kong enthusiast - a common topic amongst us).

I'm spent.

Work has been randomly diverse to keep me on toes.

p.s. - I'm loving every minute of it.

Lux (Unilver) has an interesting way of brining culture to their workplace. Although I am skeptical that Thai massages and going to a local Thai restaurant in Sao Paolo, Brazil constitutes of an in-depth cultural study, it sounds like a fun place to work.

I have started bringing multiculturalism into the workplace by proliferating origami. Origami is going to be the new fad in Pennsylvania, I tell you.

Mel reminded me of an important birthday today.

And another one...


One year older, and one year wiser... Don't wisen up too much though, Bhanu-ji. It'll make you bald faster.

Aibek had an interesting post about the Chinese Valentine's Day - which I quickly saw was the same story I have read in children's books in my childhood.

I know Digidy is gagging at anything that has to do with Valentine's and romance, but it's a very interesting thread into Asian mythology and folktales. Japan and China have very similar roots, and more often than not, Japan has adapted the Chinese versions to fit our own culture.

The story of Otohime (the weaving maiden) and Hikoboshi (the ox herder) is one of two lovers separated by the gods, punished for being pleasure-mongers, which affected other people's lives (Otohime weaves everyone's clothes and Hikoboshi took care of the oxen). Therefore, they were separated by the Ama-no-Kawa (Milky Way) and could only reunite once a year - July 7. See story here. Illustrated version here (click on links to turn pages).

This holiday, called Tanabata, has become more or less a commercial holiday in Japan, where we put up bamboo trees in our garden and make a wishlist to hang on July 7 (although we use the Western calendar). We can wish for the happy reunification of Otohime and Hikoboshi, as well as something for ourselves. It's a holiday of wishes coming true.

It's kind of funny, because it's like a hybrid of Valentine's and Christmas - but perhaps a different way of putting it is that Valentine's Day is like Tanabata. I always feel that Chinese and Japanese culture is enriched by the animistic and nature-fearing attitude - many more mythologies were made in order to explain phenomenons such as the sun, origin of agriculture, and natural disasters - somewhat erotic and human too.

I am running out of things to talk about with Ari, my colleague. We live at the same hotel, work at the same office, and spend a lot of time otherwise together.



Getting more into art is one option. I have never taken any art classes and have zero color scheme knowledge. I just doodle.

I am making tons of origami boxes lately, because it's a nice and creative way to say 'Thank You.' Besides, people are amazed when they hear that 16 pieces of paper make an elaborate octogonal box.

It's a pity I never took capoeira lessons when I lived a block away from a Brazilian capoeira studio/cafe in Berkeley. Maybe I can get Surya to teach me the slow, retarded kind, like the one him and Kirk did in Austin for us. Or not.

This song becomes a little more than a bump & grind song when you have a friend named Digidy. In fact, it almost sounds like, "I like the way you work it. No, Digidy." haha.

Oh, what was I getting at (other than a cheesy attempt for a title)? Yes, I found something that was pretty amusing. I was approached by several people to make a caricature of Digidy when he was leaving AIESEC US - and, well, this is what came of the requests.


Digidy as a shady-looking terrorist, a rat, doing some tequila shots, and of course, the classic: Tunuk Tunuk.


Some phases in Digidy's AIESEC US career - with Mojo, sly interaction with the opposite sex, white skinny Morpheus (Year of the 'You're the ONE!' analogy), and fighting Mahbod in a wrestling match - with his favorite phrase at the moment.


This does't even remotely look like Digidy, but the nuance was well conveyed.

So Digs, you think you've changed much over the years?

Ever wonder who's in bed with who in the corporate world? There is always a projection of "the omnipotent and a control freak Big Man" - but how much of it do we really see/know?

Once again, Kirk is on the lookout to unveil such matters. Very interesting site. They Rule.

Like many other children, Ala‘ witnessed conflict between rebel groups and the Janjaweed. This drawing depicts a rebel soldier first shot in the arm, then executed by gunshots to the groin. Ali, a teacher in a refugee camp, said the rebels are killed this way to emasculate them. “They [the Janjaweed] know what they are doing,” he said. “They are doing it with purpose.” --Ala‘, Age 13



Something pure and righteous dies with every picture like this. Children in Darfur are not drawing happy family portraits or sunny landscapes. They report the brutal reality imposed upon them.

Thanks for posting this, Johnnyd.

...are hot. I don't know why I am continuously attracted and repelled by them. It's just one of those things that are unexplainable by logic.

Soddy makes me laugh until I want to pee in my pants. But that's just an expression. And yes, it's classic Soddy. Classic.

I guess humor is one of those things that makes someone attractive. (Heather, I'm not trying to take your man away. I'm just stating a fact based on continuous occurrences).

Once apon a time, I was so in love with the idea of going into the medical field.

But that is a fairy tale now. I am too far away from that idea to make it a reality.

There were many reasons why I didn't pursue a medical career and many more why I could/should have. But in any case, there was a day that impacted me real hard.

I snuck into a university hospital and saw 10 operations that day. Wearing scrubs, gloves, a hairnet, and sanitary slippers, I was no more than 2-3 feet away from the operating table. Now, if you were ever to sneak into an OR (Operating Room), university hospitals are the way to go, since most people think that you are a resident intern trying to pick up a trick or two - I was a mere 18-year old with curiosity at the time.

Among the pediatric dental job (the poor kid was practically "Jaws" from the Roger Moore 007 movie after the operation), bone fracture operation, and the ocular muscle reattachment (fixing cross-eyedness), the most fascinating was the nose job and the corneal transplant.

The patient was a middle-aged man of large stature. Right before the surgery, he jovially told everyone that it was his 3rd nose job - to fix all the cosmetic degeneration of his nose every single time he had a nose job. No kidding, Michael Jackson - this guy needed to stop at some point. The funny thing is, he showed us an X-ray before he went under the knife. Except, it was a photo of his prostate exam. Wrong nose, buddy.

In any case, I don't understand the mentality of anybody who goes through with cosmetic surgery. Rather, it should be properly called "medical carpentry." As soon as the guy was on the operating table, the doctor took out a knife, chisel, and hammer. Clunk, clunk, clunk! The man's entire body shook at every impact the hammer hit the chisel. The worse thing was, since he was such a big guy, he came out of the anesthetics (or didn't even get knocked out fully). He kept on moaning - "Doctor, I can still hear youuuuu... Ahhh... You are hitting on my nose boneeee...." Yes, it scarred me for life. I was imagining an elegant art of cosmetic surgery, but it left me with nothing but an image of butchery and mad science.

I stepped out briefly to another OR where a frail Chinese lady was undergoing 7 hours of surgery - a corneal transplant. Using placental tissue, this lady was trying to restore her eye-sight. From what I had heard, she lost 80% of sight due to a chronic cateract. She was deeply under anesthetics and had endured a long time of being under the knife. The surgeon looked on with a magnifier, which displayed the area of operation on a big-screen monitor. Her milky cateract was scraped off and replaced with placental tissue, which was carefully stitched back on to her eye. It was amazing - to think of the technology, the result of the operation, and the strong desire this woman had to restore her vision. She had endured a lot, and she had soiled herself on the table. As a simple observer, it makes one wonder about the drama behind this frail frame that desired her sight at such an old age. The desire to live is amazing.

I continue to be amazed by the human body. It is one of the most sophisticated things nature has created. After such a strong experience, I was convinced that the will to live had a lot to do with our survival. Of course, the technical expertise is necessary to heal us, but the will to live has to equally match it in order to seek embetterment. It meets half-way at 50/50, I say. If you desire to stay alive, the technology will somehow catch up to try to meet that. If you don't have that will, even the most advanced technology can't save you.

Of course, that does not mean that those who desire to live will always survive. The medical field continues to face challenges, but it is a most respectable one for making our lives better, and simply life saving.

I turned away from the medical field for various reasons, but I am still fascinated and inspired by it, knowing that there are great people out there who practice altruism and sincerely do want to heal and save people. Respect.

The will to live is one of the greatest forces on earth.

San Francisco, I turn my back on you for one minute, and this is what you become?



Haha - thanks for the account, Vishen.