two thousand and eight

moments from this year that i will never forget:

-hearing the songs of migrating humpback whales while snorkeling in maui.

-standing on the edge of tiger leaping gorge and embracing the dizzying fear produced by a strong gust of wind.

-experiencing one of the world's most deadliest earthquakes and witnessing first hand the terror and charity it created.

-accidentally falling in love, even though we both knew it couldn't happen.

-holding a baby panda . . . . enough said.

-ascending an enormous sand dune and seeing nothing but desert for miles.

-floating weightlessly twenty meters below the sea, surrounded by blackness, hearing only the sound of my own breathing.

Currently listening : We Brave Bee Stings and All By Thao Release date: 2008-01-29

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the Kingdom of Cambodia
Category: Travel and Places

Our minibus follows a violent dirt road that periodically gives way to smooth pavement as if catching its breath. Naked children play in the dust along the shoulder and wave to the white faces in the passing cars. They smile despite their abject poverty and it makes me remember a time when the dirt and indeed the earth itself were something worth touching and interacting with, and not just a place beneath my feet.

I'm already feeling better being here in this kingdom, my mood moves parallel with the landscape we have passed along the way. Thailand's intimidating and densely clustered buildings have thinned out and flattened, exposing the horizon and everything that reaches to it. I feel lighter, freer.

Inside my wallet are four different currencies: Chinese yuan (I have a secret stash for emergencies that I forgot to exchange on my departure), Thai baht (I will be returning to Bangkok for my flight home) and now both American Dollars and Cambodian Riel (both of which are accepted in Cambodia). I'd feel like an international arms dealer if the amounts of each weren't so pitifully small.

My first bike ride into Siem Reap reveals just how polarized a place it is. This city is no secret to tourists and in some places it's obvious just how freely the money flows in. The market and backpacker areas of the city are modern and lavish. Among the plentiful souvenir shops and stalls, lie a plethora of hip bars, travel agents and formal dining options catering to western tourists. Depending on your mood, these establishments can either appear as a welcoming oasis or a disheartening view into Cambodia's future.

Meanwhile, a mere four-minute bike ride down the road and the scenery is different. Palm trees shroud a winding, muddy river out of town. Along the river stand hundreds of stilted, one room wooden shacks. Entire families occupying the space of my living room back home. They live along the river out of pure utility. It provides the family with food, a means of transport as well as a place to bathe, wash their clothes and play in. Even in comparison to what I've seen in China and Thailand, this level of poverty takes me aback.
Fresh from a fight, a panting dog limps by along the caked red dirt. In his side, a narrow shelf of flesh hangs loose like peeling wallpaper. Much like the people of Cambodia, this dog shows no signs of pain or suffering, it simply goes on living the best it can.

Currently reading : The Panda's Thumb: More Reflections in Natural History By Stephen Jay Gould

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Urumqi
Category: Travel and Places

It's cold, gray and raining when xiao ni and miizsha escorted us to the Chengdu airport. We say our goodbyes then chad and i ford through the amoeba like blob that is the 'line' for airport security. Chad and I were using our last week in China to explore Xinjiang also known as the Uyghur Autonomous Region. The Uyghur are one of over forty minorities present in China. They live all over the country in small pockets usually found making and selling their distinctively different food. Uyghurs are of central asian (Turkic maybe?) origin and posses features (lighter skin, larger noses and the ability to grow facial hair) which make them easily discernable from the Han Chinese (which make up over 90% of China's population).
Our flight carries us over vast stretches of empty desert and wind-carved stone formations. More tracts of flat nothing give way to snow covered mountains, sparkling blue lakes and the shallow ribbons of dried up rivers.
After a long three hours we land in the capital of Xinjiang, Urumqi. Urumqi is geographically the furthest city from any ocean; the sky is blue and clear, the sun is hot and the air dry. Like most of Xinjiang, Urumqi is an interesting crossroads of cultures. A good percentage of Han have already moved here (mostly for entrepreneurial reasons . . . oil), also present are the Kazakhs, Kirghiz, Uzbeks, Mongols, Russians and very occasionally western tourists. One of the first things I notice during the cab ride from the airport to our hostel is the signs in Xinjiang are different. Instead of the usual Hanzi (Chinese characters), Pinyin (phonetic Chinese) and occasional English, the signs here are written in Hanzi, Uyghur and occasionally an alphabetic language that looks like Russian (I have no idea what it is, but it is deceiving and contains many symbols which look they would be more at home in a complicated math problem). Seeing as how Chad and I struggle enough as it is in Mandarin speaking cities, it was almost certainly going to be more difficult in an area where Mandarin is often a second language and English a third.

After checking in to our hostel (which somehow seems to be even hotter inside than out) we head out to find some food. We are both hungry and in search for a good Uyghur meal (especially Chad who claims he could eat their noodles everyday and be happy). It takes us longer than we expected, it seems Xinjiang is full of KFC's, Sichuan style and Beijing style restaurants but Uyghur ones can be a bit more hidden.
Watching an experienced, Uyghur noodle-maker's speed and dexterity in action is a real treat. Give them some flour and water and they can give you a plate of noodles in ten minutes using nothing but their hands. They are able to manipulate and work the dough, effortlessly stretching between their hands in great arcs that reach from the floor to ceiling. Eventually they separate it with their fingers as if playing a sort of culinary version of cat's cradle.
I really began to appreciate Urumqi by the time it came to leave. Perhaps it was the culmination of my five months in China coming to an end, or perhaps it is a sort of future feeling of nostalgia. We spent four nights in Urumqi and although we felt we had exhausted most of the cities 'sites' we found ourselves constantly surprised, or at least entertained by what it had to offer.
Each night we were there we seemed to stumble upon hidden events and areas. One night it's a spectacular sunset at the top of Hongshan Park. The sun plunged like a knife into a cubist horizon, spilling hot, red blood up into the clouds.

The next night, on a whim we find the 'starlight night market' and although I have seen many outdoor markets in Asia (Xishuangbanna's night snack market, Hong Kong's Temple Street and Ladies Market, Luang Prabang's night market etc) like everything else in Xinjiang, this one is a little different.
The starlight night market was in the shape of an uppercase 'T' and encompassed several blocks. Standing at the top of the 'T' we were flanked on both sides by aromatic wings of food stands. The air is smoky and fragrant, walking past the carts of skewered meats, raw vegetables, fresh fruit, wriggling insects and spitting woks make my eyes water (either that or it was the hundreds of propane tanks spewing noxious gas into the air). The vertical line of the 'T' was lined edge to edge by similar stalls. Instead of food these stands were hawking anything you could think of wanting to buy. The street is thick with shuffling bodies, each one craning their necks to see past one another and into the small stalls. I found myself over stimulated and although there were several items that caught my eye, I couldn't bring myself to buy them.


The next night in Urumqi, after a drink at Xinjiang's only foreign owned bar (the FuBar), Chad and I walked home along the quickly cooling sidewalk and were nearly hit by a speeding pick-up truck, coming within mere inches of our bodies. It seems we had accidently wandered onto a remote controlled car racetrack. These weren't your normal Tyco RC's though, these were gas-powered and sounded like angry weed whackers as they drifted across the marble and spun circles around each other. Who knew Urumqi was home to a gas-powered RC car enthusiast club?
The last night we moved into the 'People's Square' where we witnessed a seemingly impromptu parade (with parasols and fan dancing), a speed skating class for children (with spandex), bumper boats, jumbo-tron tv sets, carnival games, and flocks of two wheeled skateboarders (is this a new fad that I missed?).
It was a bittersweet last night. Chad would be leaving the next day to return to America. Without sounding too much like a pretentious, 'world traveler', I can see a part of myself in Chad. Some people come to China for a short time and hate it. Whether it's the food, the smell, the noise, the communication gap or any number of different reasons, they don't enjoy the experience and I understand why. Other people come to China for a short time and love it. These are tourists and they love the kitsch aspect of China. They are chauffeured around by English speaking guides to touristy spots and stay in touristy hotels and buy touristy souvenirs. Then they return home and tell all their friends they've 'seen' China (or at least the great wall, forbidden city, shanghai and the terracotta warriors). Finally there are people that live in china for some time, they travel around it, interact with its people, get sick from its food and get frustrated with its organization (or lack thereof), but still don't want to leave.
I have found myself in the final category and over the last five months I have seen Chad become one as well. Though we may make fun and turn our noses up at these tourists, we have to admit we love the kitsch of China as well. Because without the kitsch China wouldn't be China.

Currently reading : You Shall Know Our Velocity By Dave Eggers Release date: 2003-07-01

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地震 － the earthquake part II

So much has happened since the initial earthquake that leveled vast areas of Sichuan. I often revisit the days that immediately followed the earthquake. I think about my general mood and try to get inside my head to remember how and why I thought and did certain things. This process generally leaves me feeling disgusted. I don't know if it is a defense mechanism, or our growing insensitivity or simply ignorance that makes us react to situations in certain ways. Maybe it's a vague case of survivor's guilt, but I can't help but hate the way we acted that night. I am not trying to make excuses for the actions and jokes that were made during that first day. It was the most surreal experience of my life and I've tried to narrate the events and my sentiment accurately.
Ten minutes after the earthquake, and we're allowed back inside our rooms to collect valuable or necessary items. I used this time to get more appropriately dressed and to retrieve my book bag (contained within are my multi-tool, flashlight, camera, extra shirt, peanuts and a bottle of water. Later to be joined by my passport, macbook and an umbrella, these items would follow me everywhere for the next week). Chris and I set off to look for Chad and see what there is to see.
Our route off campus is a safari, people have collected into herds to pantomime and yell with each other. It's clear from their tone and wide-eyed faces that this is not something they are used to either. Our time is divided by the stark silence of disbelief or talking hurriedly and without stop. The walking helps to clear my head though, which until this time had been buzzing with adrenaline and a misplaced sense of urgency. I begin to think about what has happened and how little we know about the entire situation. Unanswered questions littered my mind. Was anyone hurt? How big was the quake? Did anyone die? Did Chengdu receive the brunt of the force, or was this just a shock felt from across the country. I shuddered when I thought about hearing a news anchor's voice in my mind, " . . . and shockwaves were felt as far away as Chengdu, Sichuan."
I currently had three good friends in Thailand, what if this earthquake was bigger than the on that caused the tsunami a few years ago? South East Asia or Japan might have ceased to exist. For all I knew the epicenter could have been thousands of kilometers away.
Thousands of people are congesting the streets, looking up into the sky and shaking their heads. Glass from a few of the nightclubs' windows sprinkled the sidewalk, some of it a dozen or so meters away (this would be the worst damage I saw in Chengdu).
Chad isn't where we thought he would be, so the two of us continue following the increasingly claustrophobic streets that circumnavigate Sichuan University's campus. Traffic is gridlocked while great waves of confused pedestrians fill the sidewalks. Two helpless fire engines wait impatiently amid the honeycombed vehicles. Their sirens escalate an already precarious atmosphere.
Even in China, a country of billions, I've never seen so many people on the streets. Everyone is bubbling with nervous energy, yet they have no real target on which to focus it. Maybe this is why they continue to point to the buildings and tell each other the same stories they've been telling for over an hour now.
Back at the sushe not much has changed, but many students have begun taking up residence on the lawn outside. By now the rumors have started to collect. Some say the epicenter was out by Dujiangyan, other's say it was farther north, by Jiuzhaigou. Regardless of the exact location, this information gave me a strange sense of comfort. If the earthquake's epicenter was so close it meant this couldn't be an end-of-the-world titan that cracks continents and swallows islands.
Chad has arrived; it turns out he'd been out looking for us. Together with our Burundian classmate, Jean-Paul the four of us do the only thing we can think to do in a situation like this. We walk to the nearest store on campus and buy a round of beers. Nursing the bottles of Snow we walk the streets of our campus' housing areas. The soccer field has already begun to accumulate some people, we joke about the tents they are setting up and congratulate ourselves for our good fortune of having tomorrow free of classes.

The lawn outside the sushe has become a campsite, complete with sleeping bags, playing cards and sing-a-longs. All that was missing was a roaring fire and some s'mores. Most everyone was in high spirits, taking advantage of the situation to get to know their neighbors and classmates better. In all honesty we were having a great time.
It wasn't until much later that night, lying on an itchy blanket on the lawn that the reality of the situation began to sink in. People had been checking the news periodically and it was now clear that the death toll was much higher than first reported. By three a.m. that first night the death toll had reached over 13,000. The reports also mentioned that a majority of those deaths had come from several collapsed schools. Upon hearing this, all I could see were the faces of my students from last year and the terrible thought that it could have been them that died.
My mood shifted dramatically. Every time I heard someone laugh, it would affect me on a personal level. I now hated the people around me for their jovial dispositions, even though I had joined them just an hour ago.
It has now been a month since the earthquake in Sichuan. We still experience the sporadic aftershock that shake our beds and make our windows rattle in their frames. These tremors used to pull our hearts into our throats and send us scrambling outside. Now though we mostly ignore them. Chengdu has all but returned to normal, the thousands of refugees that inhabited our campus have returned to their homes and classes are back in full swing.

The Sichuan Earthquake measured as a 7.9/8.0 on the Richter Scale. Approximately 70,000 people have already been reported dead with 374,142 injured and 17,445 still missing. It has left between 5 and 10 million people homeless. There are still not enough tents, or basic shelters to accommodate a fraction of the displaced. Clean water, electricity, food and medicine are scarce, meanwhile disease and floods still threaten to escalate the severity of the situation.

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地震
Category: Travel and Places

We were feeling good; in the sweaty and rust smelling way only a Chinese gym can offer. Chris and I had just arrived back at the sushe and met Chad as he was leaving. Chad had left class early that day, due to an upset stomach and was now headed out in search of food.
I let myself into my room and began undressing for a much needed shower. After turning on the water I step out to fetch my towel and then reenter the bathroom to gauge the progress of the temperature. Over the sound of rushing water a low rumble builds. it seems to originate from just outside.

My first thought is not earthquake.
I can remember thinking of a half dozen different explanations in that first second, but for one reason or another, 'earthquake' was not one of them. A second later though and I'm sure, it has to be an earthquake. I hear my window rattle and the dull thuds of some unknown objects hitting the floor of the rooms above mine. The first word that pops into my head is 'basement!' (I guess living in the Midwest had conditioned me for such a knee-jerk response), now 'Doorframe' flashes into my mind, in bright neon letters.

So I brace myself in the now open doorway, crouching down and pressing my hands and legs harshly into the frame. Almost ten more seconds pass in this position. My arms and legs feel numb. I begin hearing the screams of my neighbors and soon see several of them take off running down the hallway and towards the exit. Without too much thought I decide it might be best to join them. My room is located on the first floor and I can literally see the exit from my doorway, this rationalizes my decision to make the short sprint for safety. I push off from the doorway and into the room, snatching my cell phone off my desk and spinning on my heels, head back to the door. For unexplainable reasons I think "I have no idea how long this might last, I should turn off the water in my shower". So I plunge back into the bathroom and push the water lever down and then run out my door and into the hallway.

As many of us found out later, it's difficult to describe the feeling of being in an earthquake without sound effects and the flamboyant waving of arms. The best I can do is to compare it trying to stand completely still on one of those big fourteen foot diameter trampolines while two or more of your bigger friends sporadically bounce around you.

My now wet sandals and a particularly aggressive heave of the ground almost sends me toppling to my knees, but by now I can see the exit and it's bright and it's close.
Ceramic tiles from the wall and roof are raining down just outside, they litter the ground like violent confetti, but no one can be bothered to notice. A group of Korean students huddle together behind a nearby tree and I can see the sun reflecting off the tears on their cheeks.
For some reason by this time I am less scared and more excited. I continue running around the corner and to the front of the sushe, where several dozen students and fuwuyuan have already gathered. I see Marie in the crowd and we instinctively clutch onto each other out of relief and confusion.

Our building is in complete motion, it has become liquid. The windows shake and swell, threatening to give at any moment. They never do though, and the sea beneath our feet calms and settles. The sushe again lies still, as if nothing had happened. I know at least one minute had passed since the first tremors had started, but it could have been longer.

I scan the crowd for familiar faces as I am simultaneously dialing Kristina's number. I see Upa, one of my Sri Lankan classmates. He is barefoot and clutching a towel around his waist. For a second I smile and then quickly realize my own sandals and skimpy shorts aren't much less revealing. Kristina answers, she is on a bus headed home, people are scared but nobody is hurt.
Chris finally joins us outside and we both impulsively smile, sharing a collective 'what the hell?' look on our faces. It's soon clear that nobody seems to be hurt, and now most of the crowd can also be seen smiling or laughing, regaling each other with the already embellished details of their respective escapes. I join in, seeing as how my nearly naked state requires some explanation.


to be continued . . .

Currently listening : Santogold By Santogold Release date: 2008-04-29

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My Capricious Life or ’all’s well that ends well’

i normally find stories that center around ’i was so drunk last night’ premises banal and annoying, but for some reason i feel the need to report on this one.

my second weekend in chengdu was intended to be low-key. i had plans to meet some friends at a turkish restaurant called the sultan. we were celebrating celia and adam’s birthdays and planned to stay for a few hours before calling it an early night. i had a job opportunity early saturday morning and wanted to get a good night’s sleep.

however, my low-key gradually began sounding off-key once the three free drinks at the sultan made me impressionable enough to agree to visiting a club afterwards. so, chris, chad, christine, the noras and i took a cab to ’club seven’ where we got a table and met up with some more people. after a few more free shots (thanks to a few generous chinese patrons) it was safe to say i was quite drunk. the rest of the night is fuzzy, but i remember dancing a lot, both on the floor and behind the bar. i remember playing and losing several rounds of liar’s dice (therefore drinking more). i remember leaving ’club seven’ around 3 am, stopping by a convenience store to get some water and sitting on a bench outside. it was about this time when a a giggling, old woman placed a live monkey in a vest on my lap.
it was a surreal moment that was only amplified by my inebriated state. a moment too bizarre to seem real. i dropped the bun i was eating and then i remember laughing uncontrollably for several minutes and thinking to myself that this was the closest i had ever been to losing my mind.
i gave the old woman five yuan.



i remember stumbling down the road back to school and squeezing through a locked gate line with razor-wire to access shortcut and thus save five more minutes of walking. i remember stepping into my room, stripping down to my underwear and falling into bed as the four small walls of my room spun around me.

Currently listening : Catastrophe Keeps Us Together By Rainer Maria Release date: 04 April, 2006

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my capricious life or ’japaneseamericangermanfrenchspanishchinese’

so a half-japanese, american goes out into chengdu with two germans named nora.
they find themselves at a french bar named 'le cafe paname'
somehow they end up agreeing to weekly salsa dancing classes.

i love my life right now.

Currently reading : A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius By Dave Eggers Release date: 13 February, 2001

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SuperBowl Challenge VI
Category: Food and Restaurants

it started innocently enough.
just a few skeptic college students mocking the latest commercial for some burger chain's gut-busting, artery hardening franken-sandwich.

A: "nobody could eat that thing and not die immediately after"
B: "that's way too much food. most of the world doesn't eat that many calories in a week"
A: "i feel full just watching the commercial"
B: "disgusting"
C: "i could eat it"
A&B: " . . . . what? no you couldn't"
C: "wanna bet?"

And so the superbowl challenge was conceived.
make no mistake the superbowl challenge has nothing to do with the well known National Football League's "Super Bowl". It just happens to fall on the same day every year.

To this date the challenge has been taken all across the United States (New York, Atlanta, Philadelphia, Columbus, Cleveland, Marietta, Parkersburg) and even gone international (China). Be a part of history and compete in this year's challenge (i'll even be suspending my fast food sabbatical to compete).
This Year's Challenge
THE VALUE MENU CHALLENGE!
follow these easy steps:

1. Select your favorite fast food restaurant.
2. choose 8 items off of it's value menu (try not to repeat items).
3. consume these items.
4. provide photographic evidence of yourself consuming these items.
5. feel sick and hate yourself for competing in the superbowl challenge.

Good Luck!!!

Currently listening : The Great Depression By Defiance Ohio Release date: 13 April, 2006

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color of the year!

pantone© the 'world renowned authority on color' has just announced THE color of the year.

"it was a difficult decision", explained a spokesman for the company. "the selection process was based on various influences, the final choice reflected a need for thoughtfulness. Five individuals were involved in the selection process.

So here it is, the 'Color of the Year' Pantone Number 18-3943, known to the layman as Blue Iris.


"Blue Iris brings together the dependable aspects of blue, underscored by a strong, soul-searching purple cast. Emotionally, it is anchoring and meditative with a touch of magic."

To be honest i was pulling for chartreuse. We took a big hit losing this year but our party headquarters aren't giving up. we've already started a new campaign for next year and we believe we have a platform the average american can really get behind.
. . . besides we all know that 'Blue Iris' smoked pot in college and only got to where it is today because of who its parents are. these things are all politics and probably rigged.

Currently listening : Emotionalism By The Avett Brothers Release date: 15 May, 2007

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watterson is the new salinger

bill watterson's weekly strip, calvin and hobbes never disappointed. the strip ranged from innocent and touching to biting and subversive. it was always relevant, clever and creative.
in addition to producing one of the greatest comic strips of all time. watterson never sold out like so many of his funny paper peers. you will never see calvin and hobbes toys, window clings, calendars, shot glasses or t-shirts. you will never see calvin or hobbes pimping ice cream, cat food or mufflers. there will not be a feature length film with a computer animated stuffed tiger featuring a trendy celebrity voice coming to a theater near you.
upon retiring, bill moved back to his hometown in northeast ohio (give it up!) where he avoids reporters and fans alike. he's basically a recluse now. no one is sure what he's doing now, maybe he's working on more calvin and hobbes material, maybe he's got a new project in the works or maybe he spends his days painting landscape portraits with his father.

this is why, among other reasons bill watterson is listed in my 'heroes' section.

ps- there are some interesting essays out there written about the parallels between calvin and hobbes and the book fight club, if you're bored you should look them up.

Currently reading : The Wanting Seed (Norton Paperback Fiction) By Anthony Burgess Release date: December, 1996

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