Update on Korea

I will be flying out of Atlanta on Tuesday the 24th. I have a direct flight and should be in Korea 17 hrs later. I have to begin orientation immediately but my first class will not begin until March 5th.

My Lil' Niece

Here is another video I did this week. It's the story of my niece who was born prematurely. Hope you enjoy!

Return to Asia

Hi Friends. It's been a loooong time since I've updated this blog. I just wanted to let you know that I have accepted a teaching position in South Korea and will be moving at the end of February. Once I get settled in, I'll fire up the ol' blog and bring everyone up to speed.

I'm selling all my RC toys this month... Anyone that knows me well knows how much I love the sport of RC flying... so this has been a tough decision... but they aren't going to do me any good sitting in a garage on this side of the planet.

For your amusement here is a video of my favorite bird. Complete with authentic North Carolina style music! :-) See ya on the other side!

Netherlands - Dedicated to my lil friend in Groningen

(I have been wanting to write about my trip through Europe, but so far all I have is some random scattered essays that are not joined in any logical fashion. As some of you have requested a new story, I am posting bits and pieces of what I have and will try to give a more thorough update later. )

One could make a point for not undertaking major architectural endeavors while stoned, but that point would almost certainly be lost in Amsterdam, a city where smoking pot is legal but owning a level is apparently not. Take a turn down any narrow alley and you are sure to find examples of Holland’s fine architecture, tilting forward on their foundations, like sprinters trying to edge out the competition in a photo finish. While not all the structures are poorly built, some in fact are magnificent examples of ingenuity and talent; almost certainly they will be beside a home which has simply grown tired of being. I don’t know if buildings are capable of thought, but if they are, “Please Kill Me!” would be the unifying voice of these decrepit structures.

I was at first tempted to think that the buildings were simply suffering from week foundations, which could easily be explained by the fact the Amsterdam, and in fact much of the Netherlands, have, until the last few hundred years, been under the sea. However, in many cases, the badly skewed structures seem to straighten themselves at the waist, suggesting to me that the brick mason recovered from his euphoric haze long enough to make the necessary adjustments. When I asked my Dutch friend about this phenomenon, he replied, “We make shoes, not houses.” (Referring to the Wooden shoes the Dutch are famous for… another tradition that unfortunately has gone by the way. I was so looking forward to hearing the thunderous clap of the morning commuters as they clomped down the cobblestone streets in the latest Oak and Maple fashions)

If wooden shoes, Coffee Shops (places which sell legal marijuana and surprisingly little coffee), and hilariously under-engineered buildings are not your thing, Amsterdam has yet another vise for which it has become famous, namely legalized prostitution and a thriving sex-toy industry. A quick stroll through the red-light district will give the average non-consumer an adequate appreciation, although I wouldn’t advise doing it before noon, as it’s a bit like watching Cher open for a Shakira concert. (although I prefer the music of the former, the music videos are quite another story)

In this district are normal looking houses with picture windows in the front. The windows are framed with red neon lights and behind them you can expect an assortment of freakish individuals, ranging from portly to the petite and all points between (although a pre-noon stroll is certain to provide much more of the former than latter).

In between these houses are sex toy shops, with their goods proudly displayed in the windows. Hundreds of over-sized, over-animated, over-illuminated plastic phalluses taunt me from the smug security of their double paned windows. I’m pretty sure they were not made in America, as we would have certainly added cup-holders as a standard option.

That being said, Amsterdam is an amazing city and one would be quite mistaken to assume that drugs sex and unhappy buildings are her only offerings. They are unfortunately the most entertaining subjects to write and talk about, sorry Aurthur! I'll try to give credit to the wonderful parks, places and people in a future essay :-)

The Bangkok Fore

To those looking for substance I apologize and forewarn, you won’t find it in this journal entry. It contains little to no information about Thailand. But it was a fun getaway and something I’ve wanted to write about for a while:
….

I’m on a ship in the middle of a city. It somehow seems rational to me that the water and buildings coexist, I must be in Venice. What is certain is that the weather is turning ugly. Tornado-like water spouts are approaching our boat, threatening to tear it apart. These tornadoes sweep through building after building, destroying everything they contact. Is it my imagination or is that tornado wielding a sword… it is, I think.. it’s also not a tornado at all, rather a Tazmanian like female warrior. All the tornados are women.. angry, angry women… looking for me… good Lord I need to wake up!

A cool hand on my sweat-soaked shoulder shakes me awake (try saying that 5 times), a soft angelic voice tells me it’s time. As my disintegrating boat slowly transforms itself into a sleeper sofa, the tornado fades into the smiling face of our host, Mrs. Renee Dragon, quite possibly God's most perfect creation.. (lucky Marek)

A rustling in the bed room tells me my friends have been stirred from slumber as well. We arrived at 1:00 this morning, it’s now 4:30, and as the overhead light flickers on, I know my rest is over.

I stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water, and run into Dr. Guschel, otherwise known as Pete. By all appearances he is still asleep, but he has managed to locate the bagels and cream cheese..

To give a short introduction: Pete and Greg are good friends and former colleagues of mine from Singapore. Pete is a polymer scientist and Greg is the business development manager. The original odd couple, Pete is a sweet guy who tries to make everyone laugh, and Greg is an self proclaimed elitist jerk and the ultimate “guy’s guy.” Combined, they form an entity that is never boring, hence the reason they are two of my closest friends.
20 minutes later, Pete, Greg and I emerge into the still dark alley, the sun having had the good judgment to stay in bed for another hour. Pete tries to say something funny, as he is prone to do, Greg and I swear under our breaths and continue trudging into the blackness. A Tuk Tuk passes, it’s driver seems startled for a moment to find three western guys walking around with golf clubs at this time in the morning.

We meet our driver for the day and an hour and a half later we arrive at the course; the sun has grudgingly decided to join us. We meet our caddies and as only Thailand can offer, they are all female, and, to my relief, are wielding golf clubs, rather than swords, and are doing very little spinning. The entertainment value of this outing has just increased dramatically.
Still fighting the sandman, we groggily step up to the first tee. A few moments later, it is painfully evident that this is going to be a very long day. Greg, a former golfer for George Washington University, has managed to find the center of the fairway, I’ve sliced my ball into another country and Pete only needs to walk a few feet before having an opportunity to hit again. Our cadies have already started rolling their eyes.
Pete seems to be deteriorating with each swing, I don’t know if it’s the rapidly increasing heat or the 2.5 hrs sleep, but it’s not long before we notice that he has disappeared all together. He emerges from the woods a few minutes later, where he has just finished tossing his cookies.. or more accurately, cream-cheese bagels. Gradually Pete recovers and as the game wears on I begin to feel much better. A few snacks at the turn and we tackle the back nine. We come to a water hazard and discover Thailand’s version of a ball retriever.
When the game ends, and we are tipping our caddies, the caddie asks for Greg's number. Being a happily involved man, he did not give his number, so how she managed to find his number written on a piece of paper slipped in amongst the generous gratuity is a matter of speculation. (I certainly would be above such chicanery)
We enjoy a great lunch at the club house, summon our driver and head back to Bankok. Greg and Pete are asleep before we leave the parking lot.
After a quick shower, we decide that a good massage is in order so we walk down the street to the day spa. When we walk in, we are served a relaxing cock-tail and then usured to the private massage rooms where we shower again and wait for the masseurs. The manager comes in and asks if we want “pretty or professional”, I don’t have to tell you which one I choose, but as my face is buried in a pillow, it ultimately wouldn’t have made a difference. (save the fact I may have settled for an inferior rub down)

Later that night we went to dinner with Marek and his wife to celebrate Marek’s birthday. After dinner and drinks Marek and Renee returned home and the three of us pile into a Tuk Tuk to explore Bangkok. Our driver is a bit too happy to have our combined weight shifting his center of gravity and is doing wheelies when leaving every red light.
Later, I see the familiar faces of some of my fellow exchange student friends from Hong Kong. Talk about a small world. We take them to a local club, and Greg, being the generous benefactor that he is, hands me his wallet and says, “Take care of your friends.” This is just one of many times that Greg has shown extreme generosity to my friends and I, including flying me to Singapore last summer. I hope that one day I’ll be able to repay his kindness, but for now, as he loves to point out, I bring absolutely nothing to the table.

We make it home around 2:30 in the morning completely exhausted. It’s a good thing we don’t have to get up in 4 hours to play another round of golf.

It’s 6:30 in the morning when we pull out of the garage in Mareks suv with three golfers, two sets of clubs and one brutal hangover. It’s after 9:00 when we arrive at the Presidents Country Club. We were lost for half of the drive trying to find the place. Marek stops the suv along the curb so Greg and I can unload the clubs. My day gets off to a bad start as I step out of the suv and directly into the narrow edge of a street sign. My momentum caries my collapsing body onto the course lawn to the great amusement of Greg, Marek and the morning congress of giggling caddies…. I've said it before, this is going to be a very long day.

Because of our late start, the heat is much more intense than the day before, and by the 15th hole, the sun, exhaustion and malted barley have claimed their first victim.
Much like a drowning man coming up for a last gasp of air, Greg wakes up one hole later and wins the closest to pin contest with a birdie par three, gives the winnings to his caddie and “sleeps” through the last two holes.

As I’m turning in my rented golf clubs, a familiar voice crackles over the golf courses PA system.. “Ladies and Shenelmen, thank you fr letting me enjoy your beautiful golf coursh. (unintelligible garble) I’m Greg Kroll and I’m out.” I’m not sure how Greg got a hold of the microphone, but I’m fairly certain the grinning security guard standing beside him will be demoted to Ball Washer before the sun sets.

As my plane lifts off the ground the next morning, I breath a sigh of relief. I’m happy to be returning to school, I need the rest.

Comments

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Guilin - Part 1 - Little Sister

Colorless wisps of unconsumed pleasure rise in lazy vertical columns from the glowing ends of too many cigarettes. An old man coughs, a young man spits, a slender woman frets with the hem of her unraveling sweater while her child nonchalantly walks in circles and talks to someone I can not see in a language only the child and his invisible friend can understand. A shouting match erupts somewhere in room, I don’t look up. It’s China… people yell.

There are 2,300 ceiling tiles in Guilin station and 400 flickering fluorescent lights, all humming a tune, not quite pleasant, not quite harmonious, but a tune none the less. The hard bench is forcing my spine into an unpleasant therapeutic alignment, the clothes in my pack provide a makeshift pillow, the 400 member fluorescent choir continues humming somewhere above. I’m such a baby when I’m sick. “Hey China, Shut up and let me rest!” My train will be here in two more hours, 18 hrs later I’ll be back in my dorm, eating chicken soup and reflecting on the events of the past few days…

3 days earlier..

My final exams are finished, I’m bored. I pack a change of cloths, my camera and my passport. A Google search and a few clicks tell me there is an overnight train to Guilin leaving from Shenzhen at 6:00. Shenzhen.. hmm.. nice, maybe I’ll find a stall where I can buy a used Ipod and wallet. (ref: Shenzhen of Thieves)

There are generally three options for traveling by train in China; hard seats, hard sleepers and soft sleepers. Hard seats are exactly what they sound like. These cars are equipped for sitting only. The hard sleepers are actually quite comfortable rooms with 6 bunks, three on each side. The soft sleepers are more expensive. The rooms have doors and there are only four bunks.

This train should be an uneventful ride, but as luck would have it, I’m sharing the hard sleeper with 4 generations of Chinese women; Granddaughter, Mother, Grandma and, if my perceptions are accurate, Mother Time. They are very excited when I respond to them in Chinese and equally excited when 10 min later, I exhaust my vocabulary.

I’m laying on the middle bunk, Granddaughter and Grandmother are below me and the other two are on adjacent bunks. Not long after the train starts and the car grows quiet, a little hand snakes up from below and pokes my arm.. “Ge Ge…..Ge Ge.." Older brother… Older Brother, says a small little voice from below… then the hand is back again. This time, the poking finger has been replaced by a small stuffed piggy.. I take the piggy.. and granddaughter shrieks with laughter and starts clapping. (I think she was around 4 years old)

10 minutes later, I’m finding it difficult to move, as my bunk is littered with the child’s toys. I’m not sure about the proper etiquette with regards to playing with Chinese children, but across the way, Mother Time is smiling warmly (as a Jack-o-lantern might, if it did not want to scare the children) , so I continued to enjoy playing “trade the toy” with Mei Mei (little sister). Not having any toys, I give her a couple dollar coins to play with.

I’m hungry, I ask the train attendant where the dining car is, she tells me it’s car 10. A meal of rice, broccoli and chicken satiate my pallet, so I returned to my room to call it a night. Mei Mei, however, had other plans. Mom had purchased a toy stick helicopter from one of the vendors and Mei Mei is not going to sleep until I fly it with her a few thousand times.

We are flying the copter in the narrow hallway trying to set distance records when she suddenly decides it would be fun to take off running.. Mom and crew are not in sight so I give chase. A train attendant catches her before I do. I take her hand and turn around to go back down the aisle and notice that little Asian heads are poking out of every room on the narrow corridor. Apparently it’s not every day you see a lumbering American chasing a 4 year old Chinese girl through the train shouting “Bu Hao! Bu Hao!” Not Good! Not Good! I haven’t done anything wrong, so why do I suddenly feel like a kidnapper… I begin to fear for my life.. must get this child back to mom!

Mom thanks me, or scolds me, I’m not sure which. I’m winded from my chase, time to go to sleep. Just before my eyes close, the hand is back. This time it’s giving me a little piggy pillow.. Then the lil’ hand takes mine and pulls my arm over the side of the bunk. She plays with my “fat fingers” until she falls asleep.

6:00 am.. the train is at one of many stops, a little hand pokes me awake.. “Ci Jian, Ge Ge.. Wo eye ni!” Goodbye older brother, I love you!

I awake two hours later; my room is empty, save two dollar coins sitting on the table. I suddenly feel very lonely. I’ll miss my little sister.