RED ACCORDIONS

"Art Hotel: Touching Emotion" in Hanoi (this is the funny slogan of our hotel)

2011-12-20T05:05:00.000-08:00

Here in Hanoi, time seems to work in multiple and sometimes paradoxical ways. On one hand, the city might seem to take a teeny-weeny catnap (at best, maybe late, late at night) but it never truly reaches R.E.M. Even Michael (a New Yorker) agreed that Hanoi has an energy that feels so palpable and virtually unceasing. On the other hand, the city seems to abide by unspoken rhythms--meal times served during certain times, the dizzying criss-crossing of rush hour traffic, folks sitting on plastic stools to enjoy a refreshing evening drink with friends--daily rituals that remind me of each day passing by.

Some of my favorite moments so far (sorry but I'm not sure how to type Vietnamese accents):
Not surprisingly, enjoying Vietnamese cuisine, which is perhaps my absolute favorite. While the Lonely Planet has been helpful in some ways for locating cultural sites, Michael and I have found that the best restaurants so far have been small places that LP didn't mention and ones that tend to specialize in one dish but seem largely overlooked by the tourists for some reason (does it have something to do with their location or seemingly less-inviting facade?). A few examples: Bun Cha on Duong Thanh (god help me, a bowl of this stuff is heroin for my belly...I'm already missing this place), Hanoi-style pho at Pho 49 on Bat Dan (large cuts of brisket hang from the counter and tonight the owner/employee smiled at Michael as she scribbled down the price in a wet puddle of broth on the table...fantastic, especially with a side of the bready things called "quay" that are shaped like dog bones). THE best pate EVER from a tiny shop on Ly Quoc Su...a slab of this pate on a fresh baguette keeps me a very happy carnivore and I noticed a healthy line of folks ordering fat slabs of it to take home. And then our latest find last night--Bun Bo right next door to our hotel on Hang Dieu Street (a bowl of vermicelli noodles with beef, bean sprouts, mint, lemongrass?, some broth, and sprinkled with peanuts). As Michael said blissfully after we ate this dish, "Bun bo will be the death of me." And of course, Vietnamese coffee and banh mi pate sandwiches from several vendors around the city(sometimes we carried two at a time from different vendors to eat later!).

Other dishes I've especially loved: banana flower salad at Koto, Banh Cuon on Hang Bo Street (banh cuon is made of steamed rice rolls filled with pork, mushroom, and shallots, served with a dipping sauce called nước chấm); Banh Xeo from a place on
Huy Chu; beignet-like donut things that we ordered with the bun bo; and from Quan An Ngon restaurant on Pahn Boi Chau Street, Banh hoi chao tom Cuon Banh Trang, a pounded shrimp hash fried on sugar cane served with rice vermicelli rice paper and vegetables.

Well, after last night's performance at the Hanoi Opera House (an incredible venue that's reached its 100th birthday this year) which showcased about a dozen musicians who performed from a range of musicAL genres, from classical compositions and Spanish ballads, to opera and jazz, Michael and I are hankering badly for more live music, so we're about to head over to Minh's Jazz Club where live jazz shows apparently take place every night.

I've also enjoyed the times we've had the chance to talk with the locals here, whether it be a group of Vietnamese college students taking a survey of what foods foreigners like most (we've been asked to participate in this survey twice now, at different places), or chatting with a guy at Pho 49. He was born and raised in Hanoi and he explained that many young adults in the region commute to Hanoi for work (which adds to the sense that Hanoi is a young city). I'm always amused to hear the impromptu guesses by folks about my ethnicity. A couple times now, people have expressed difficulty in reconciling my Asian-looking face with my American nationality. The results are in: I'm either Japanese (60%), Chinese (10%), Singaporean (5%), or other (5%). Don't folks know how many Korean telenovellas I've been exposed to over my life? :)

More soon (including non-food related)...hehe...

Patchen's An Astonished Eye Looks Out of the Air

2011-09-26T09:28:00.000-07:00

Favorite lines from Kenneth Patchen's An Astonished Eye Looks Out of the Air (1945):

The poems were printed in a conscientious objectors' camp, red and black typography layered over on white and olive-green pages with white type. The symbolism and motifs remind me of a modernist version of Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience.

from "The Dimensions of the Morning":
I will allow you respect for
Red apples and countries warm
With the races of men; peep pver
The transom at China if you like;
But I will have no hatred or fear
Entering this poem.

from "A Letter to the Young Men":
When the days grow teeth at last and games
Are done; when sunset stills our eyes and search
Is at an end--the ways all blocked, the wind's
Majestic house gone slack to the crush
Of quarreling planes in all their blue skies...

from "The Origin of Baseball":
There weren't enough birds around
And the hills had a silly look
When we got on top of one.
The girls in heaven, however, thought
Nothing of asking to see his watch
Like you would want someone to tell
A joke--"Time," they'd say,"what's
That mean--time?", laughing with the edges
Of their white mouths, like a flutter of paper
In a madhouse.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

So he wanted to throw something.
And he picked up a baseball.

from "'Keep Life'":
Town on the back of a hairy
Fish.

from "'Joined Together by the Rule of Peaceful Love'":
Their bodies writhe as that mating
Frees bulls down lanes
Of sweating roses. But a wall
Circles some grim town; and the
Reason for winter
Puts hooves on the sparrow.

from "The Naked Land":
A beast stands at my eye. //
I cook my sense in a dark fire.

from "What is the Beautiful?":
The narrowing line.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Unrest in the outer districts.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Perhaps the shapes will open.

Multiorganed, the Footnoted Confession

2011-06-06T14:48:00.000-07:00

“The dream was marvelous but the terror was great; we must treasure the dream whatever the terror."

"My most favorite of things are optical illusions."

"I know why the line breaks: it is because something dies, and elsewhere, is born again..."

"She folded her bed sheet like a love letter....she should rather that the world remained extremely life-like....The paraphrase would always be bad, her antennae bent and remorseful....I must spit in the keyholes....How she so believed she alone was meant to discern the signs and omens, the secret addressee."

--Excerpts from Jenny Boully's The Body: An Essay.

Chest my Nut

2011-06-04T16:16:00.000-07:00

Isn't the chestnut a prettier version of a wood-paneled room? I hope the chestnut would take this as a compliment...

Worm Friends!

2011-05-25T15:28:00.000-07:00

Who'd a thought I'd have my hands willingly in some worm and horse poop this week. Last weekend, I took a vermicomposting workshop offered at Wasatch Gardens, which was actually really fun and insightful. I mainly went in hopes to figure out how to do a better job of maintaining a worm compost bin this time around and how to not eventually kill the worms! Last night, Michael and I made our worm bin and it all cost less than $15 (including worms). After we transferred the worms to their new home, Michael did the "worm dance," consisting of a robot-like dance and self-accompaniment of a song tentatively titled, "Worm Friends."

Today we picked up some horse manure compost (given away for free at some horse training place). Surprisingly, it didn't smell at all and we spread it all over our garden plot. We're hoping the horse manure will help revive our little plants after this plague of rain and lack of sun we've been getting the past week.

Green Thumbs Blistering in the Sun (Part 1)

2011-05-18T16:02:00.000-07:00

After three years of being on a waiting list for a garden plot through Wasatch Gardens, I finally was up for a spot at the 4th East Garden location and now am the proud keeper of a plot that is about 8 x 30 feet.

A few days ago, Michael and I turned over the soil in our garden plot, pulling up weeds, and later mixed in some diluted fish emulsion and what's called diatomaceous earth. The next day our bodies felt like we'd been beaten with broomsticks, but we had so much fun...a healthy kind of masochism, no?

Next we planted our little seedlings (and some okra and beet seeds): 6 varieties of tomatoes, squash, pumpkin, basil, cucumber, Thai eggplant and another kind of eggplant (forget the name), onion, lavender, and oregano. We tried our best to plot out the garden so that everything was planted alongside a companion plant.

Yesterday, much to everyone's chagrin, it snowed and rained (!), and night threatened to reach freezing temperatures. With my grumpy pants on, I bought some cheap, transparent tarp from Lowe's and covered the plants and am hoping that they are okay.
I also bought a couple strawberry seedlings and am growing several teeny, on-the-verge-of-death basil seedings indoors. When the sun pokes out again later this week, I'm going to try growing more seeds indoors in hopes to plant them soon on the other half of our garden plot, which we'll probably prepare some time this weekend. I'd also like to try growing some ginger in my sunny-ish back room (though it's kind of more the kitty litter room right now).

Gardening and gardening books I find are a kind of porn and a great distraction from exam reading!

Egg + Plant + Massaman = A lived-in nest

2011-05-02T20:50:00.000-07:00

Tonight I cooked with Thai eggplant for the first time. Along with their round greenness, I threw in some peanuts, massaman curry paste, basil, coconut milk, tamarind paste, and potato. The Thai eggplant taste more like a cross between yellow squash and maybe zucchini, but firmer, and their seeds feels/taste reminiscent of sesame seeds. So frickin good.

Even Punchki, the Polish Donut, loved it:

A lovely quote (one of the many windows) from Poetics of Space: "The house is a bird's very person; it is its form and its most immediate effort, I shall even say, its suffering." If I hadn't met Michael, I might've fallen for Bachelard, that is, had I lived, oh, a hundred years ago.

Viva la Cardboard Postcards

2011-04-27T20:22:00.000-07:00

Finishing up the semester this week! Then onto marathon bouts of reading for my exams. But last Sunday, some of the gals gathered for some crafting and I made these collaged cardboard postcards (not sure why but they refuse to show the right way).

Elevens and Evelyns are Good

2011-03-30T18:58:00.000-07:00

I see the number 11 all the time. 11:11 on clocks. 11 on mailboxes, advertisements, flight numbers, receipts, etc. I never count to find eleven but it finds me. Well, the year 2011 was one I braced myself for. Now it turns out that eleven is a year that I don't want to see end.

Cupcake Fairy and Cardboard Pangs Strike Again!

2010-12-19T19:24:00.000-08:00

Well, the Cupcake Fairy (otherwise known as Tasha) unexpectedly knocked on my back door and she held a tray of pretty cupcakes topped with a dollop of frosting in the shape of Christmas trees (as you can see, I immediately swiped away some frosting on the one on the far right).

Lately I've been hankering to make something out of cardboard, but not sure what yet. In the meantime, I haphazardly stacked two empty cardboard boxes on top of one another and, within minutes, the cats were all about using their new kitty cardboard condos.

I'm counting on artists like Yuken Teruya, Chris Gilmour, and Patianne Stevenson to offer all sorts of cardboard inspiration.

Goblins and San Rafael Swell/ing

2010-10-18T15:44:00.001-07:00

Here's a pic of my little sis, Linda (left) running with me. We're wearing such bad-ass dresses! This past week, I visited the fam back in north Florida and was sent home by my mother with over 50 pounds of frozen, ziplocked blueberries and blackberries in a large suitcase, which was already bringing unwanted attention because something questionable was leaking or sweating from the inside by the time I reached the check-in counter. Argh! Luckily, the damp suitcase was due to the condensation from all the frozen yet thawing bags of fruit inside (rather than from leaking fruit).

This weekend, I took another trip to Mystic Hot Springs (my most visited spot in Utah!) and camping in Goblin Valley State Park, on BLM land. Our camping spot was ideal with a 360-degree view of the surrounding red rock faces and panoramic of the gorgeous desert. That night, the winds nearly lifted the tent, slightly exciting and slightly terrifying, but all and all, the tent withstood it...only a few stakes were uprooted.

The next morning, we hiked among the mushroom-shaped rock formations, followed by a scenic drive back to Salt Lake, which include window views of San Rafael Swell's stunning, huge rock formations.

Shapeshifter/Angled Skies

2010-09-10T14:45:00.001-07:00

One of the best albums I've heard this year: Alex Turnquist's As the Twilight Crane Dreams in Color. Tons of layered instrumentals with six and twelve-string guitar and piano. The only way to do this album justice really is to listen to it while driving in the desert or some other desolate landscape and on really good speakers. The music tears me up everytime I listen to this album. Plus, I love the photos (which I think may be taken by Turnquist too). One of the tracks, "Dancing in BorealisRibbons of Vivacity" is available on his myspace site.

I've been thinking of skies lately. Yesterday, looked at Steiglitz's "Equivalent" series of abstract photographs of clouds taken over several years, between 1922-35. Some are very Rothko-esque. One of the ones dated from 1930 reminds me of the holes in the sky I would obsessively look for as a girl. I think I must've heard (probably in Sunday school or something) how Heaven is in the sky somewhere, so while my parents drove, I would peer out the window, trying to guess which hole led directly to Heaven. A part of me thought that if I could find it, I could keep track of where it was, and therefore access it later, like a restaurant I've been meaning to try.

So much depends on my perception. I'm amazed at how little it takes to feel disconnected and then, how little it can take to feel reconnected to someone.

Post California Bliss...

2010-08-29T23:11:00.001-07:00

Although this post is way overdue, I wanted to note, in true Sound of Music style, a few of my favorite things and moments from my California trip a few weeks ago (in no particular order):

1) Staring at the sublime expanse of the Pacific Ocean while listening to Andrew Turnquist's album, As the Twilight Crane Dreams in Color (and tearing up from all the overwhelming beauty)
2) Stopping under the only tree in Nevada
3) Winding down the darkest road before seeing the brightest shooting star of my life
4) Eating several banh mi sandwiches, especially from Saigon Sandwich

5) Watching the pelicans and crabs in tide pools at Stinson Beach
6) Buying art from Stephanie and Adam's kids, James Geronimo, Jupiter, and Justice Everylasting (their artworks now adorn my living room)
7) Eating a pork sandwich at Dolores Park and watching a guy intensely juggling his 'balls' (hehe)
8) Playing on one of over forty vintage pinball machines at Lucky Ju Ju's
9) Ginger ice cream from BiRite Creamery in the Mission (several times)!
10) Camping in Big Sur and viewing the waterfalls, more shooting stars from inside my tent (sans rainfly), and visiting the Henry Miller Library, and eating at Deetjen's (best eggs benedict and cozy atmosphere in a renovated barn)
11) Soaking in Escalan hot springs during the middle of the night
12) Sitting beside the Russian River and watching overly tanned folks baring terrible tattoos
13) Visiting old friends in Sebastopol and eating the best scones ever
14) Driving down Hwy 1 and seeing more ocean than sky
15) Eating sumptuous Indian food at Vik's in Berkeley with Nagila and Courtney

Ghostbusters at the Republican?

2010-07-16T12:02:00.000-07:00

Last week the Republican, a bar down on State Street, was visited by a local team of paranormal investigators after learning of several reports about various unexplained occurrences. For example, after closing and when the bar was empty, two of the bartenders have had bottlecaps thrown at the back of their heads from the other side of the bar. What's strange about this beyond the obvious is that 1) all bottlecaps should theoretically be behind the bar with them (since the bartenders have to open the bottles first before giving them to the customer), 2) plus the bottlecaps were from beers that the Republican doesn't even carry. Strange? Also, the women's bathroom has apparently been an active site, with folks feeling as if they were touched by something. You can only imagine how I felt about going to the restroom after hearing that one, plus the layout of the bathroom is already creepy enough in that when you glance into the mirror above the sink, behind you is the stall's curtain, which you can easily imagine being thrust open by some zombiefied ghost, their face staring back at you.

I didn't know what to expect but when my friend invited me, I drove up there at closing time and waited while the team set up mysterious devices, including two flashlights (a red-lighted one and a blue-lighted one), which they placed upon a large table around which about 7 or 8 of us were sitting and they placed the darn flashlights directly beside me! My heart admittedly began to race as I thought about all the books about the paranormal, unexplained phenomena, etc. I use to read as a kid, eventually giving myself the creeps, but I kept ordering them from school anyway. Reports of sightings of Anne Boleyn's ghost, the Loch Ness monster, Bigfoot, ESP, bending spoons with one's mind...all of it fascinated me then and that perhaps it still does in an X-Files Moulder kind of way. I have a tendency (naive or not, for better or worse) to be (too) open, to lean toward believing. I guess being open to the possibility of ghosts is better than being, say, a bible thumper? Hope so...

With all the bar's lights turned off and with only enough ambient light to make out our silhouettes, the team proceeded to ask particular questions, requesting the supposed ghost(s) to respond accordingly by turning on either the red or blue flashlights (red meant "yes"; blue meant "no"). Sometimes the responses weren't consistent, but sometimes it was curiously so. The team also advised that if any of us experienced anything questionable during the investigation, to speak up about it. I gradually felt the room grow colder and colder and colder, to the point that my hands, arms, and legs felt as if I'd been a meat locker and then I started to subsequently shiver, my teeth chattering. I was too embarrassed (and surprisingly a bit skeptical) about what was happening to say anything, worried folks would think "Oh that crazy Asian girl thinks she's experiencing ghosts!" but then I remembered that the air conditioning in the bar was turned off and that the temperature that day was easily in the 90s. Along with this cold sensation, I'd thought I felt another odd thing: a pressure on the right side of my neck and two pin prick-like sensations on my right arm. Again, I tried to ignore what I was feeling and didn't say anything. A few minutes later, one of the other women (Sara) who was sitting across from me admitted to feeling extremely cold and also feeling something prickly on her skin. Hmm...

A couple of the guys believed they'd heard unfamiliar noise a few times from the other side of the bar. Members of the team thought they might've seen or heard voices. Later during the night, Sara and her husband, David, along with one of the team members, explored the office and with some Ghostbuster-like device, was apparently able to "communicate with the dead." When I entered the room for a few minutes, I felt the room grow colder once again. At one point, Sara said she felt something push her back, not forcefully but that it definitely didn't feel welcoming. The paranormal team member kept wondering why Sara seemed to be targeted but couldn't come up with anything conclusive. Then, from the Ghostbuster device that Sara's husband held, we heard the word "Sara" repeated a few times (as well as the name "Elliot"). Jesus, I cleared out of there like Forrest Gump!

As I gain more time and distance from this night, I admittedly feel more skeptical, that there may be a natural explanation for everything, but the temperature drop is the one thing I feel uncomfortable about wholly dismissing. Perhaps because the room truly felt like a meat locker, that the frigid air seemed to surround my body, and felt less like a physiological response coming from within, but who knows. The mystery continues and the paranormal investigation team will return for at least another visit soon. After a night of staying nearly silent inside a dark bar, I walked out of the Republican and squinted into the sun. night...

Final Night in Ho Chi Minh City

2010-07-05T02:13:00.001-07:00

I took a cab this morning to the Ho Chi Minh Museum in hopes to learn more about the deified nationalist (and founding member of the French communist party) who fought for Vietnamese independence but, unfortunately, I learned it was closed today (doh), so I settled for walking around the building and appreciated the lovely landscaping, children's art in homage of Ho Chi Minh, and other Ho Chi Minh memoribilia.

For instance, the Peugot "presented to President Ho Chi Minh by the Vietnamese resident 'Novelgeland' (French Colony) in 1964."

Or children's art made in homage to Ho Chi Minh.

The huge lotus flower sculpture and pond that greets you at the entrance, lotus flower being Vietnam's national flower.

A memorial statue to Nguyen Tat Tranh, which was the name given later to HCM, meaning "he who will succeed."

A dragon sculpture with mosaic tiles covering much of its body, although the extra hands/claws are goofy and slightly menacing at the same time.

Then I hoofed it to the Dong Khoi area, not really knowing where I was heading yet exactly and stumbled down a street with a small outdoor market, which felt a little off the tourist grid as I didn't see any fanny packs or folks also wearing white running shoes (a telltale tourist sign). A few images from the market below.

A fruit vendor--look at all those bulbous green pomelos, red spiky rambutans, and purple mangosteens!

A meat vendor slicing.

Seafood vendors waiting for their next patron.

An interesting mix of architectural styles.

By then I'd sweated enough, so I went to X Cafe, which specialized in "premium New Zealand ice cream," and tried scoops of green tea and passion fruit ice cream. So tasty (although BiRite Creamery in San Francisco is still my all-time favorite, next to Bombay Creamery and Mitchell's in the Mission).

I strolled over to a nearby street to find Vietnamese Quilts (now apparently called Mekong Quilts), which "supports community development programs in remote villages in Cambodia and in Vietnam....to generate employment for women. One hundred per cent of profits from its quilt shops are returned to the villages. Mekong-Quilts focus is to provide rewarding employment, increase family incomes and improve conditions for children in these remote communities. Over 500 microcredits have been given and 200 scholarships." The quilts--as well as other handmade products, such as placemats, wallets, meditation cushions, etc.--were all superb creations.

I passed by the historic Hotel Majestic (one of the oldest hotels in Ho Chi Minh City, built in 1925) and couldn't resist taking photos of its French colonial-style lobby with elegant stained-glass.

Much to my detriment (only half kidding), I also discovered Lotus, another store that sells reprints of propaganda posters, as well as originals. There went at least an hour of my time as I looked at every single poster.

Vietnam is also famous for its textiles, especially for silk. You can see fabric stores all over the place offering hundreds of different fabrics and patterns. Often you can also have tailored clothing made within a day or two.

The Opera House, like the Ho Chi Minh Museum, was also closed but the building was quite grand. I'd love to come back to Vietnam and see a performance here.

To get a break from the sun and heat, I ventured over to Highland Coffee--supposedly the Vietnamese version of Starbucks--to taste test their iced coffee.

Later while walking down Le Thi Rieng to find a good dinner spot, I postponed the search and instead stepped inside some hair salon and asked for a haircut (which cost about $5, probably a dollar two above the average apparently). Well, this is where the whole "you get what you pay for" saying comes into play. Mullet with a smidge of bowl cut is what I got...ah well.

After futilely searching for a particular restaurant and getting lost, I decided to return to Huong Lai restaurant for another plate of their Bo xao bong thien ly (sauteed beef with thien ly flowers), along with fresh spring rolls and lotus tea. The food was even better the second time. Definitely one of my favorite places in Ho Chi Minh City--delicious meals, great atmosphere and decor, really kind staff, and altruistic mission (to help disadvantaged youth). The server also wrote down where I could find the pretty blue ceramic teapots and cups they use to serve their tea.

Other images taken around the city today:

Remember these?

A buka (coconut) vendor.

A group of folks (coworkers?) taking a midday nap.

A string of birdcages complete with layered songs by the inhabitants.

In Vietnam, Crooning "All By Myself"

2010-07-03T09:50:00.001-07:00

Ces and I rode a tour bus yesterday morning to visit the Cu Chi Tunnels, about an hour and a half northwest of Ho Chi Minh City. The underground network of tunnels run for over 100 miles and were first created by the Vietnamese during their fight for independence from France, taking 18 years to build. During the Vietnam War, the tunnels offered Viet Cong guerillas a way to commit surprise attacks against the Americans, as well as offered the guerillas a source of retreat and escape. The tunnels, although a complicated network, are very dark and purposefully narrow so that Westerners (that is, American troops) couldn't fit through.

On the way our bus stopped by "Handicapped Handicrafts"--a company started in 1976 where people with physical challenges can earn a living by creating handicrafts, such as eggshell mosaic plates, vases, etc. that are later laquered.We had the chance to see the step-by-step process of producing these beautiful crafts. Then we saw the display of their finished pieces in the large showroom. I watched a few of the employees and was amazed by how painstakingly detailed the pieces were and by the sheer volume of crafts these folks have made. I have to admit I felt a little weird there, especially when staring at the vast room filled with thousands of finished handicrafts. I caught myself wondering if the folks working there were earning a fair living wage or not.

The production area where the handicrafts are made.

Supplies and works-in-progress.

The finished handicrafts for sale.

Upon arriving at the Cu Chi Tunnels, our tour guide, "John" (he said it's easier than giving his Vietnamese name which foreigners tend to mispronounce) showed us one of the original entrances for the tunnels, which was not much longer lengthwise than this guy's foot. No one volunteered to try fitting through the hole.

"John" showed us many of the traps created by the Viet Cong to ensnare and kill American troops, made of simple materials like bamboo (which were turned into spikes below a trap like this one). Yikes...

And later at the "Self-Made Weapons Gallery":

We make a quick stop at the outdoor souvenir shop where I saw these bottles of snake wine (rice wine created by fermenting a snake inside) which some believe has healing properties. Also, folks could pay a small fee to have the chance to shoot a gun. I was disturbed by how many folks opted to try it. It's one thing to like shooting guns, but to try shooting a gun at a place where so many were killed just felt tacky to say the least.

Okay, and now the actual tunnels. The entry was later enlarged for western tourists' larger body frames, but the actual tunnels below were left in their original state (with the exception of lights being added). Here's the enlarged entryway to the tunnels.

And then the enlarged, underground entryway that leads directly into the tunnels. The tunnels aren't large enough to stand in. Ces and I were probably two of the shortest people in the group and I had to bend almost to a ninety-degree angle in order to fit inside. To touch the sides of the tunnel, I had to bend my arms, with my hands close to my shoulders. So think: sauna-degree humidity, near-suffocating space, musty, dank, and dark. Kind of a claustrophobic's worst nightmare. Most folks in the group opted to glimpse inside the tunnels for a moment and then climb back up. The tunnel we accessed included a few exit points, the first one being at 60 feet away, then a second exit probably about another 50-70 feet away, and then the third exit a ways off. I wasn't sure if I could stand it but once I looked down the ominous tunnel hole, which reminded me of a freshly dug grave, I impulsively decided to try to go in. Once I started to awkwardly push my way through the tunnel, I then felt very panicky and scuttled faster and faster and reached the first exit point and gratefully saw the sunlight at the end. Only two (maybe three) folks from our group chose to travel the entire length of the tunnel at this site. It's incredible (and sad) to think of the Viet Cong guerillas and their families who stayed inside. Many had suffered from severe malnutrition and malaria.

"John" then had us taste some raw tapioca root (or cassava), which had been the primary source of food for the Viet Cong guerillas during the time they used the tunnels. Most of the white tourists in the group (sorry to poke fun here) couldn't bring themselves to even try it. Ces and I thought it wasn't too bad--the taste reminded me of a mealy, slightly sweet, soft-boiled potato.
To end our trip, we watched an old propaganda film about the making of the Cu Chi Tunnels and about those Viet Cong who were awarded for being "American killers" during Vietnam.

The tour included the option of returning to Ho Chi Minh City by bus or by a boat that traveled down the Saigon River. Naturally, Ces and I opted for the latter. But by half way through the boat ride, most folks fell asleep (including myself for a while), most likely from being in the intense heat. Sadly, my pictures of fishermen and boats along the river didn't turn out very well but here's one of two men (or boys?) fishing.

By the time we reached our hotel, I was starving so I bought us two banh me sandwiches, which is a popular Vietnamese street food that includes (although there seem to be variations) roasted pork, carrots, pate (liver or pork), mayo, tofu, cucumbers, cilantro, chili peppers, and daikon...and all of it stuffed into a baguette! Heavenly! I devoured mine as soon as we reached our hotel room again!

I headed to a store that sold eyeglasses in order to buy me at least one pair since I'd read that Vietnam (like the Philippines) offer amazing deals on prescription glasses and I was overdue for a pair. I bought one pair, plus had prescription lenses put into a second pair (that I'd bought for $10 in Singapore) and all for less than what just lenses alone cost in the U.S.

Later that night I finally relented and tried durian-flavored ice cream. Although I generally love most foods, I have to admit that even putting the spoonful of durian ice cream to my lips was difficult since I could still smell the durian's stench (a cross between rotting trash with a tinge of vanilla) but I tried it. At first the taste is similar to how it smells, but then a few moments later, the ice cream tasted sweet and good. But with each spoonful, I caught myself holding my breath before bringing it my mouth and after about the fourth taste, I quit.

Today we visited the Fine Arts Museum of Ho Chi Minh City, which is housed in a stunning and elegant French colonial building, with its beautiful stained-glass windows and shades of soft blues and greys.

I'm embarrassed to say that I sometimes took more photos of the floor tiles and the building than the art.

However, that isn't to say there weren't notable works. Many of the pics turned out blurry (couldn't use a flash), but this is one of my personal favorites.

A Joseph-Cornell-like display of "revolutionary artists' working equipment."

The three of us had worked up an appetite from the museum trip so we strolled over to Tin Nghia, a modest but charming place with buddhist owners. I tried a dish called sinh to dua hau va du du (a kind of fish cake with mushroom served in a sweet sauce), spring rolls, and nuroc tac ep (satsuma fruit juice). As soon as we finished our meals, we all were planning when we could return!

Sadly, Jasmine headed back to Singapore while I decided to extend my Vietnam trip for another two nights. Before Jasmine had to catch her ride to the airport, we ventured back to ever-bustling Ben Thanh market.

I wondered how pairs of crab eyes were staring back.

First time seeing taxidermied bats.

Off to a coffee shop to enjoy fruit shakes.

And then there were two: Ces and I ventured to Cholon (China Town area) in district 5 to check out An Dong market. What we found was a four-story market but most of the vendors were already beginning to close their stalls, so we looked briefly. Then we walked around the neighborhood and decided to peek inside Sieu Thi Coop Mart to see what is was all about.

What the street cables look like here. How would you like to untangle that?

And then there was one: Ces's flight back to Singapore would be leaving in a few hours, so she had to get back to the hotel for her airport ride, which left me in An Dong to explore solo style. I tried to find several of the pagodas that were apparently in the area, but got turned around and realized that my map didn't have all the streets listed nor did I feel comfortable asking someone for directions since most folks we've encountered haven't necessarily understood English and I don't speak a word of Vietnamese (with the exception of the one "thank you" I tried on a cab driver tonight but he had no idea what I saying until I showed him the text in the book).

I bought a banh mi sandwich (my second one during this Vietnam trip) but suddenly felt determined to find this pho place I'd read about earlier today online when someone bragged it was the best pho place he'd tried during his quest for the best pho in Vietnam. The place, Pho Quynh, was definitely an improvement from Pho 24. The broth and meat had more flavor, plus lots of locals were there, which is usually a good sign. Just compare the heaping dish of garnishes/side dishes (the mountain of basil!) this place offered with the pho compared to Pho 24.

Cooking and Sweating in Vietnam

2010-07-02T08:28:00.000-07:00

This morning I took a cooking class at the Vietnamese Cookery Center where they taught us how to make five traditional dishes, including bo bia spring rolls, sour fish soup with vegetables, caramel fish in clay pot, steamed rice with coconut juice, and for dessert, green bean sweet soup with seaweed.

My too-skinny bo bia spring rolls with Chinese sausage.

Our instructor and chef, Pham Thi Dieu Dai and translator, Tran Thi Kim Tuyen.

Sea bass pre-marinade...

The sour fish soup with vegetables and pineapple.

Voila!

After the class, we received a cookbook with the recipes of the dishes we learned to make, plus a geeky certificate of completion and a souvenir bag of black pepper from northern Vietnam.

I trekked on over to the Vietnamese Massage Institute where they specialize in teaching blind Vietnamese people the art of massaging. An hour-long massage cost about $2.50 U.S. (yes, I know...insanely affordable that it should be illegal). The massage, well, was quite an experience! Once the masseuse reached my head, she mainly massaged the area between my eyebrows and one particular point on the top of my head. Then she would gently pound her fists on my forehead. She also talked to the other masseuses in Vietnamese through the walls most of the time and at one point, I could hear someone burping over and over again. The only word I understood in the whole conversation was "Mexico."

I stumbled, post-massage, to Sozo Cafe for an ice cream sundae.

One of the highlights of the day was coming across Hanoi Gallery, which sells originals and hundreds of reprints of Vietnamese propaganda posters. I spent way too much time looking through every single one...

One of my favorites...an original priced at $600.

A swarm of motorbike riders during rush hour...

including a family of four on a bike (not that uncommon to see)!

The mayhem at Ben Thanh market this evening.

Dinner at Thu'c don where I tried Banh Khot (moulded rice cakes)--thick half-dollar sized pancakes (made or rice) with shrimp, chives and basil, wrapped in lettuce, and served with a tangy sauce.

And Goi Du Du Tom Thit (green papaya salad with shrimps and garlic, plus peanuts).

A crowd watching the Brazil vs. Netherlands World Cup game.

Boys playing a game where one boy stood at one end and tried to catch the ball (or to block it?) that another boy kicked.

Look at those foul-smelling durian! I told myself I'd try it before I leave...ergh.

We're All Out of Vietnam...We Didn't Expect Such a Rush

2010-06-30T09:40:00.001-07:00

Wednesday morning I caught the ferry back from Bintan Island, Indonesia back to Singapore and met up with Jasmine at the airport. From there, we flew to Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam! Technically, three countries in a day for each of us! And our first communist country! My adrenalin began to race again for all the right reasons once we landed since Vietnam immediately exuded a palpable electricity that I'm excited to explore.

Our rooms in the A & Em Hotel come with hot water, flat-screen TV, desktop computer, and free wireless. The decor of the rooms (and the hotel lobby) feels like, as Jasmine said, a stage set in the 90s tinged with baroque but with lots of silver instead of gold.

This made me chuckle (and it's translated too).

The room costs $30 U.S. so by splitting it with Ces (who's coming today!) and Jasmine's splitting hers with Sheryl, a newly acquainted colleague who's also attending the same conference as her, it makes it even more affordable at $15/night. After checking in, we realized we were about to gnaw our own arms off from hunger, so we strolled around the corner to a nearby market and picked an outdoor restaurant, Quan Oc Van (disclaimer: Vietnamese words here will probably be missing the proper accent marks), which was full of patrons.

Jasmine and I both picked crab dishes: Mien Xao Cua (fried vermicelli with crab) for Jasmine and Cua Rang Me (crab roasted with tamarind) for me, along with Cha Gio (a plate of fried, mini-sized spring rolls), and Sai Gon Do (Red Saigon beer). The crab was so succulent, brings me back to when my parents managed a seafood market in Maryland and would occasionally bring home bags of steamed crabs!

It began to rain and the restaurant employees began to stand on plastic chairs, tying up plastic sheets to block the rain, which only half-worked. We had to shift our chairs and move to a new table because we were still getting soaked. Also, the electric cords for the place were precariously plugged into extension cords that hung just below the dripping plastic overhangs. Welcome to Vietnam! I loved every minute...

Today, I walked around District 1 in Ho Chi Minh City in order to find cheap, used copies of Lonely Planet Vietnam. Cyclo drivers approached me right away, trying to persuade me to pay for a ride. One driver followed me for a few blocks, trying this and that tactic to persuade me, going as far as to show me a book of customer testimonials about his transportation services.
The heat was intense, but that didn't stop folks (women especially) from wearing longs sleeves and face masks (mostly in order to stay fair-skinned, which is ideal). Also, you can't be here for more than a second without noticing the endless army of motorcycle riders everywhere, dominating the streets (sometimes the sidewalks too). Crossing the street as a pedestrian has been such an act of faith...you basically have to saunter out into the road slowly and hope/pray that the riders will see you and move around you or stop. Surprisingly, they do.

I stopped by the Ho Chi Minh City People's Committee Building briefly but kept on trucking toward the bookstores.

One of my favorite pics from this trip so far.

An old performance hall of some sort maybe?

I finally found a good used bookstore, Bookazine, that had three copies of the latest Lonely Planet Vietnam and so, after successfully bargaining with the owner, I bought copies for Jasmine and Ces too. At Pho 24 (a Lonely Planet recommendation) I tried the Pho Bo (pho with well-done beef flank). While I don't agree with LP that it's the best pho here (I trust there's even better out there), it was really fresh and yummy.

I waited out a heavy rainstorm for about half an hour and finally made it to the War Remnants Museum, which reveals war atrocities inflicted (mostly by the U.S.) upon the Vietnamese (mostly civilians). The exhibition was immediately so overwhelming and unbelievably sad. I found myself trying to stay composed as I viewed photos of victims who were exposed to Agent Orange, or napalm, or phosphorous bombs, dioxide, mines, dart rockets, etc. Some were directly affected while others (mostly children) were born with serious physical malformations and developmental problems. Then there were those were who died too: entire families, rows of children (sometimes 5 or 6 kids from the same family all dead), remnants of what barely resembled the shape of a human being.

The museum also included photographers' works from the war, as well as info about torture devices (such as the infamous "tiger caves"), historical documents and images relating to Ho Chi Minh and his plight for Vietnam's independence from France, and posters representing various nations' disgust over the Vietnam war. Here is one of the most graphic of the images (with the accompanying caption), along with a poster images.

To decompress after such an emotional museum trip, I walked over to the Golden Dragon Water Puppet Theatre where I met up with Jasmine and Shea to catch the next performance. According to Lonely Planet, it is believed that water puppetry (roi nuoc) "developed when determined puppeteers in the Red River Delta managed to continue performances despite annual flooding."

The performance consisted of short vignette-like pieces that centered around, say, a fisherman trying to catch a fish, or dragons chasing each other. While you're watching, you can't help but to wonder how the puppets are being manipulated (especially since some spat water, or spewed fireworks or smoked cigarettes from their mouths, or danced).

Afterward, we walked through Tao Dan Park and gawked at hedge sculptures like this one.

At Huong Lai, a restaurant "in the airy loft of an old-French era shophouse....[where] all the staff here are from disadvantaged families or are former street children and receive on-the-job training, education, and a place to stay," I tried a dish with "thien ly" (a vegetable that reminds me of a cross between a bean sprout and edamame) with beef and brown rice. So so delicious...one of my favorite restaurants and meals so far!

Last but not least, a nightcap at a cafe or, rather, a nightcap in the form of a papaya shake!

Happily Drooling in the Corner...of Indonesia

2010-06-30T08:32:00.000-07:00

On Monday morning I rode the ferry from Singapore to Bintan Island, Indonesia. On the hour-long ferry ride, the tv screen mounted on the upper corner of the ceiling aired nothing but Michael Jackson videos. It was weirdly satisfying to hear "Billie Jean" while seeing Singapore grow smaller and smaller in the ferry window while heading to Indonesia.

I’d heard that the Teluk Sebung area where the Bandar Bentan Telani ferry terminal is based was pretty touristy, so based on the advice from the trusty Lonely Planet, I opted to search for less traveled places and instead took an hour-long cab ride after the ferry ride to Pantai Trikora on the eastern side of the island. I split the $36 (U.S.) cab ride with an Austrian urologist guy, Josef (could pass for Woody Allen's cousin) and I hate to say this (and I know it's terribly un-PC) but his accent reminded me of that Austrian-turned Nazi-character, Rolff, from The Sound of Music...I'm sure he would've loved it if I shared that with him! Once we arrived to Pantai Trikora, the cab driver offered to take us around to several lodging options since neither I nor Josef had made hotel reservations.

The first place was the most secluded, at least ten minutes from any other lodgings but the mosquitos ate me alive during the few minutes we were there and, despite the incredible view and solitude, I knew that the bloodsuckers would've affected my experience quite a bit.

I felt like Goldilocks (“This bed’s too big, this bed’s too small, this bed is just right!”) self-indulgently weighing which place in paradise would be suitable. But when we reached the fifth place, Nostalgia Yasin Bungalow, I knew this was the place for me. Each room was a small, charming sea cottage raised on stilts above the water and close to shore. My window and small back balcony overlooked the ocean and a few nearby islands. The rustic bed comes with a rose-patterned, white mosquito net around it (which is needed) and a floor fan (no air conditioning or hot water by the way, but I don't think they should missed here). Nothing fancy--you could see the water below through the floor slats and the ants and mosquitos were even closer--but it was charming and perfect all the same. Although the water here wasn’t quite as mesmerizing or as clear as the waters of El Nido (it probably isn’t fair to compare any place to El Nido’s beauty), the sounds of the waves lapping and the peaceful expanse of ocean was more than plentiful in their own beauty. And the best part was that this room cost $35 SGD (or $25-27 U.S. per night) as opposed to the $100+ rates for places usually found on the island. Here are some views from my back balcony during low tide.

Here's the sign for the Nostalgia bungalows (love the two Ls in “welcome”).

After the sun set, I rode a pretty-painted tricycle (motorcycle-driven pedicab) to the nearby Argo Beach Resort to email Cai, Ces, and my sister about my exact whereabouts (so they wouldn’t worry) but then also stopped by their Asian Bistro restaurant for dinner. The restaurant, too, overlooked the night ocean. I ordered an Indonesian dish, Gulai Ayam—a somewhat spicy curry with chicken wings and rice. Plus another Indonesian dish, Pempek Kapal Selam and Lenjer, basically a glutinous-y fried fish cake with boiled egg yoke as a filling and served with a sweet vinegar-based sauce. And to complete the meal and wash it all down--a can of Bintang, an Indonesian Pilsner. Together it all cost about $8 total (U.S.)...pricier than the Philippines but cheaper than many places in Singapore (with the exception of affordable places like the food stalls at hawker stations). The electric moon, in dramatic form, began to rise above the now-darkened horizon, orange as the hottest piece of coal.

On my second day, while having a breakfast of toast and an omelet (more Western-style breakfasts on the menu), a butterfly (the back of its wings were black with white dots outlined in purple) came for a visit and kept coming back to the table, landing on my head a few times. I took that as a good sign and started to head back to Argo. My day consisted pretty much of two things, either reading or staring out towards the horizon and ocean. I did more of the latter, several hours of it, in fact, eventually feeling drowsy in the afternoon and taking a nap. My favorite spot was sitting on this adirondack type of chair under a large umbrella made up largely of palm fronds for shade. I leaned back in the chair and just stared at the sea, listening to the waves lapping against the rocks. Eventually, I did return to my room for a nap, but that was the gist of my day--a lovely itinerary of pure idleness! This was my view from my chair...

A dramatic storm clouds brewed for about an hour or two later in the afternoon. I stayed in the chair (and stayed mostly dry under the umbrella) until the sight of lightning nearby forced me to move inside.

Don't these boats just beg to be sailed?

For dinner, I headed to the SunMoon (complete with a small attached room for karaoke), an open-air restaurant facing the Java Sea, and tried two popular dishes in Indonesia: Seafood Kway Teow (flat rice noodles with squid, fish cake, mushrooms, chicken, and kailan served with a serving of some kind of spicy pepper--habanero?--sauce) and sauteed kailan (also called Chinese kale) with garlic, mushroom, and oyster sauce. Somehow I fit all this, plus a mango shake, in my belly! God, the gluttony never ends! Funny thing is that Josef (Woody Allen's cousin in another life) was sitting across the way in the restaurant watching the World Cup when an operatic cover of the first song that Julie Andrews sings in the Sound of Music ("The Hills are Alive...") began to play in the restaurant...weird. I almost choked on my shake from laughter. Well, my short trip to Indonesia was such a tease, but relaxing and I hope to return for a longer stay...

Some cool images of vintage Indonesian ads in the ferry terminal:

Onto to Ho Chi Minh...more soon!

Some quick factoids about Bintan Island:
1) It's the largest of 3,200 islands in the Riau archipelago
2) third largest of the 27 provinces in Indonesia,
3) population: less than quarter of a million
4) mix of different cultures and ethnicities, include Malay, Bugis, Chinese and a unique tribe called the Orang Laut (sea nomads).
5) Land area is 927.53 sq mi
6) According to Wikipedia: "Bintan's history is traced to the early 3rd century. The island flourished as a trading post on the route between China and India, and over the centuries it came under the control of the Chinese, the British, and then the Dutch when it was declared part of the Dutch East Indies through the Anglo-Dutch Treaty of 1824.[6][7][8] In the 12th century, the Bintan island in the Strait of Malacca was known as the "Pirate Island" since the Malay pirates used to loot trading ships sailing in these waters."

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IKEA and Pop Culture 101

2010-06-27T08:57:00.000-07:00

Cai, Ces, Joan, and I paid a visit to IKEA (Ces wanted to buy some plastic bins in which to store her beloved comics...hehe). I approached the trip as if I were a cultural anthropologist and was surprised to find a huge IKEA cafeteria with scores of tables, all of which resembled a crowded hawker station and how folks pushed carts that held sometimes several trays at once full of food. To score a table, you had to basically 'hawk' and wait like a vulture since every table was taken. I've never seen so many Asians in an IKEA! According to Cai, this IKEA also includes a playroom for kids as well as a Muslim prayer room. Something that Ces, Cai, and Joan appreciated about Singapore is the religious diversity that exists (and that it does so harmoniously for the most part).

After lunch, we headed to Tampinese Mall to watch Night and Day, a light action movie starring Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz (can I do something more American?). The previews before the movie alone offered some food for thought. The first was a short, heart-wrenching piece about an Asian family, the grandmother coming to live with her son's family after her own husband died. We then see short clips of the grandmother making life difficult for the family because of her critical and unpleasant nature. When the grandmother is near death in a hospital bed, her son shows compassion and tenderness, the sight of which prompts the grandson to ask his father how he can show such love towards the mean grandmother. The tagline was something about how showing compassion to the older generation teaches the younger generation. It was a tear jerker alright and afterwards, Ces pointed out how Singapore has garnered the reputation of being a place where people lack compassion, so this commercial, Ces believes, is to counteract that stereotype. The second commercial was an anti-piracy commercial, again focusing on a father/son relationship wherein it's suggested that the father has illegally downloaded a film and his son then asks where he bought it (cue suspenseful music). The third was a preview for a film titled, Old Cow, Tender Grass, about which we all cringed. The premise: some dopey-looking Asian guy, maybe in his 50s, who tries to rationalize going after women who look like they're 20 and beautiful. Creepy and gross--Cai couldn't contain her disgust and let out a loud groan of disapproval! And the title--gross in its innuendo too.

Okay, a less adventurous day, but a laid back one with perhaps a much needed education from Ces and Cai in Pop Culture 101. When we arrived back at their place, Cai introduced me to the show, Glee (which I've heard several folks talk about) which she downloaded. I found myself in front of the tube, and many episodes later, I probably resembled a zombified addict. She also played a few Lady Gaga videos for me--the outrageous costumes reminded me fondly of artist friends from when I was in art school, performance art pieces with unique costumes made by them.

For dinner, Cai made us a lovely dinner of fried halibut, asparagus, rice, and salad with plums and blueberries.

The Human Animals and the Creatures

2010-06-26T10:44:00.000-07:00

For breakfast Cai introduced me to kaya toast, a popular Singaporean and Malaysian dish of toast smeared with butter and honey (or kaya jam) and served with a bowl of runny eggs and a cup of coffee. It was kind of a perfect way to start the morning!

We rode the MRT to Orchard Station and spent our time walking around the area, which was extremely posh, with huge malls on almost every corner (Singapore, as Ces had pointed out, is very, VERY much in love with malls, as is true for the Philippines), marquees for high-end brands that most folks can't afford. Just outside the subway station, the architecture resembled these futuresque, steel trees reaching high up to glass panels and I realized that the design resembled the design scheme by Studio Milou Architecture for Singapore's future National Art Gallery, which is scheduled to open in 2013.

Virtually everyone in the area was dressed so fashionably, to the hilt, and looking like they just stepped out of a model shoot. Perhaps this scene might support Ces's theory of the 5 Cs that she claims are important in Singapore: cars, credit cards, condominiums, cash...ergh, forgot the last C.

What made me chuckle in all this consumerism and opulence was this cute guy hula-hooping a large strand of what looked like large Buddhist prayer beads around his waist!

For lunch, we met up with Ces, as well as with their two friends, Tiffany and Elmo. Since we all preferred to somehow find some cheap eats in this Beverly Hills-like area, we opted for a cafeteria for a spicy bowl of laksa (coconut-based noodle soup) and duck crepes with fresh fruit drinks. I also noticed these quirky sculptures adorning the walls.

Ces and Cai took me to Singapore's Night Safari, a popular theme park attraction where one can apparently view at least 1000 species (at least 120 are endangered). I'm sometimes weary of parks or zoos that encage animals, but I have to admit I was fascinated in seeing particular animals here, and many for the first time.

A few favorite moments:

1) The bat cage where we could stand in an enclosed area with many bats (they ranged in size, from a few inches to a foot in height) and watch them eat, or hang or fly around, their red eyes glowing back at you.

2) The Fishing Cat that kept pacing back and forth on a large, half-submerged branch in a stream, hoping to pounce on an unexpecting fish. Apparently, they mainly hunt for fish, sometimes diving into the water for them and are also great swimmers.

3) Unexpectedly, one of the most heart-racing moments occurred while we were viewing the Indian Gharials (crocodiles with narrow jaws). From a foot bridge, we viewed at least four of them, their bodies outlined by the murky water. Two of them kept rubbing against each other (Cai thinks one was trying to mount the other), so either they were trying to fornicate or to fight. In any case, those two gharials (which were about 7-8 feet in length) suddenly rammed into each other with such force that their bodies were almost entirely vertical and half out of the water (and precariously closer to us). I ran so fast, grabbing Cai's arm, telling her that Ces will kill me if she gets killed. In the meantime, Cai is laughing at me and pulling me back to the bridge, but I just kept thinking about that horrible scene in Adaptation, plus remembering the story about this alligator that had fatally attacked a friend of a friend in Florida. Since no flash photography was allowed around the animals, I just pulled images from the internet.

The Grass is Always Greener on the Inside (of art museums)

2010-06-25T07:01:00.000-07:00

Once the rainstorm subsided I took the subway to the Bugis Station and walked through the market to find a hawker station full of stalls offering many culinary options. I finally settled for an Indonesian place, Pandok Makan, for gado-gado--a traditional dish made of blanched cabbage, bean sprouts, string bean, boiled potatoes, tofu, sliced boiled egg, krupuk (deep-friend crackers), and all of it smothered in peanut sauce (sadly my picture doesn't do it justice...the peanut sauce was truly delicious).

On my way to the art museums, I stopped by the Sri Krishnan Temple, a beautifully-painted Hindu temple and watched folks waft the incense smoke into their faces.

There was no way to miss the 8Q Sam Museum (an extension of the Singapore Art Museum) because an inflatable white bunny the size of two SUVs awaited to greet you.

8Q Sam was a more playful space that engages kids' playfulness (and for us adults who don't want to grow up). Geoffrey Drake-Brockman, an Australian artist, created the piece, "Floribots," an electronic field of origami flowers called floribots that sense viewers' movements via infrared motion detectors, which then causes the floribots to be reactive, excited, naughty, asleep, or to wake up. The artist's statement: "...majesty of the annual--blooming for one short moment, before withering away--plays out the tragedy of life in a single act: 'we grow, we are beautiful, we die'...."

Theodore Watson's piece, "Daisies," was basically an interactive video installation of digital flowers that reacts to movement and wilt as visitors walk or cast shadows over them, but then quickly grow back. The kids loved this one!

Onward to the Singapore Art Museum where I viewed the art by Ming Wong. who is described as an artist who "disrupts the assumptions we hold about 'nation,' 'family,' 'self,' and 'other.' He re-interprets pivotal scenes from classic films--with himself playing all the roles or with deliberately miscast actors." Wong also commissioned Mr. Neo Chon Teck (the last cinema billboard painter in Singapore) to paint movie billboards for this re-appropriated films.

After the museum crawl, I met up with Cai and we checked out the "thieves market" near Arab Street. During our walk, I spotted this gorgeous art deco building.

At Thieves Market, one must pick through the crap to find the gold. You can find just about anything being sold here: stamps, instruments (saw these accordions and had wished I could take them home), power tools, even laptops, watches.

We strolled over to Arab Street for dinner and peeked into the majestic Masjid Sultan mosque.

The Children's Toy Museum, which was filled with with two stories' worth of antique toys.

I thought this placard was pretty funny.

Last but not least, we had Singaporean food at Kampong Glam Cafe. I hankered for the noodle dish, goreng seafood with a milo dino drink (basically a kind of mild hot chocolate).

Chinatown and Child Prodigies at the Ritz

2010-06-24T08:54:00.000-07:00

After presenting at the conference, I headed to Chinatown for lunch at Tak Po, known for their Hong Kong Dim-Sum. Their menu included several dishes with fried frog but I wasn't in the mood to be adventurous, so I opted for fragrant rice with chicken, Har Gao (dumplings filled with prawn), and Chinese tea.

I strolled through Chinatown and thankfully stumbled into a tea shop with lots of lovely scented (albeit pricey) looseleaf teas and I ended up being seduced by their wide array of gorgeous, handcrafted clay teapots. I have a clay one at home, plus a pretty blue iron one from Japan that I bought recently in San Francisco, but, in thinking about Chinese zodiac signs (I was born in the year of the dragon), I fell in love with this funky-shaped clay pot with a small carved dragon for a handle. The woman working there was so patient and answered all of my questions and let me take photos of her shop, including the bin of turtles (which I assume were also for sale).

A t-shirt poking fun of Singapore being a 'fine' city.

An image from Chinatown that I think reveals the clashing architectural influences (and former colonial influences).

And another one taken right beside a sex shop in Chinatown.

A huge, sequined drip sculpture in one of the MRT stations.

Later that evening, Ces, Cai, and I went to the Ritz Carlton Hotel. Ces was invited to this event, "Prodigies of the World," where a select group of young "prodigies," ranging in ages from 7-16, were performing and so Cai and I got to tag along. The venue in the hotel resembled part casino, part large wedding reception hall, complete with many banquet tables. Ces, Cai, and I agreed that, for being at the Ritz Carlton, the dinner was pretty average (although the presentation was nice) and that Cai's cooking could've blown them away instead. Cai's face lit up while she enjoyed the free food, except about the rose-flavored dessert about which she said the smell unfortunately reminded her of her mother's rosary. :)

Personally, I was less interested in the prodigy aspect of the event--the fact that some of these kids had started their "careers" as early as two kind of disconcerted me. However, their performances were undoubtedly stellar. My bias toward Michael Province, Nathan Chan, and Simone Porter--the kids who played stringed instruments showed as I got a little teary-eyed during their performances...especially during Nathan Chan's performance of Gabriel Faure's "Apres Un Reve, Op. 7 No. 1."

A Room of One's Own (Back in Singapore)

2010-06-22T23:59:00.000-07:00

I checked into the swanky Riverview Hotel to prepare for the IAHA (International Association of Historians of Asia) Conference. Although the hotel is overpriced and their restaurant charges $30 SGD (about $24 U.S) for a pithy breakfast buffet and $3 for each article of clothing for laundry services (I opted to just handwash my stuff myself), my room had a nice view and endless hot, hot water:

Last night, I met up with Cai and Joan (her housemate) for dinner at Brotzeit--a German restaurant specializing in sausage and beer! Apparently, "brot" is German for bread and "zeit" means time. We shared a "Wurstelplatte"--platter of authentic sausages (spicy chicken sausage, Numberger pork bratwurst, mini pork sausages, weisswurst sausage and garlic sausage with sauerkraut and two types of mustard. All this plus a pint of their Hefe-Weissbeir (a Munich beer with hints of banana). Gods of the heavenly and carnivorous!

Here's a window display for a clothing store that was a few doors down from Brotzeit--a timely World Cup reference with a rotating referee head!

Cai took this picture of me feeling nervous before my conference presentation about Theresa Hak Kyung Cha's Dictee. With that said, it actually went pretty well with several questions from the audience afterward.

My Last Night in the Philippines (Salamat!)

2010-06-21T19:01:00.000-07:00

Jasmine and I started our day with pancakes and coffee at Pancake House--the Filipino version of IHOP which has been in business since 1974.--where various posters of American movies adorned the walls. We would need the extra fuel since we were headed to Greenhills--an indoor market with many vendors and booths selling clothes, housewares, and such--where we bought many gifts, clothes, and handcrafted Filipino products for the fraction of the usual cost you might see in the U.S.

Afterwards, we met up with Dyan for dinner at Van Gogh is Bipolar (one of my favorite restaurants that Jasmine has introduced me to here). As Jasmine noted, it somehow felt appropriate to bookend my stay in the Philippines with another dinner there, plus the food is too good to only have once. We were able to sit in this lovely, red-painted alcove with a table and floor cushions. This time I tried their "President Clinton's Meal"--lamb, Van Gogh rice, peanuts, mango, corn, and mint served in cabbage leaves and black sauce. The meal also came with "Virginia Woolf's turkey soup" (organic turkey soup with banana chips) and "Courtney Love's Potion of the Day" (fresh, organic fruit extracts with fruit bits and pulp, mango, cucumber bits, lemongrass?, and Palawan honey). So incredibly delicious and really healthy.

Dyan brought along a book she bought in Chinatown that included fortune-telling predictions for each sign. It provided some interesting reading and conversation material during dinner as we each read aloud our fortunes for the year. Thankfully, it was all mostly good! The decor at Van Gogh is Bipolar includes an eclectic array of chairs, wall hangings, beaded curtains, hats, etc. Here's some framed art that I found particularly amusing there.

Also got to try two Filipino snack foods: crunchy cashew polvoron (ingredients listed include "flour, skim milk, full cream milk, cashew butter, sugar, cashew nuts, margarine, lard) and chichacorn (a crunchy, garlic-flavored corn treat).

Tomorrow is Jasmine's birthday!

Food and Non-Food

2010-06-20T05:26:00.000-07:00

This is how the directories at the malls categorize the businesses. Very funny but so to the point.

Last night, Joe (friend and housemate of Jasmine's) invited us to go to dinner with him (plus a gaggle of his friends) to Nomnomnom, a restaurant apparently named after the "sound made by an anime character when he ate yummy food." The place was decorated in soft shades of eggshell blue and white, with antique-y bird cages, mirrors, artist books, and a cute mural of a rainbow and clouds. Jasmine and I shared their malinomnom pizza with tinapa (salty smoked fish), kesong puti (white cheese), itlog na pula (salted red egg), and onions served on top of a thin crust. A savory, salty goodness...

Today, we explored a couple museums: first the Casa Manila Museum in Intramuros, which is an area built during the Spanish colonial period (16th century), essentially a walled city in which the elite Spaniards lived. According to the museum's website, it "recreates the lifestyle during the colonial period through antique furniture, paintings, lighting fixtures and other objects of decorative art." Since we weren't allowed to take photos inside, here a few from the internet mixed in a few I took outside."

We dipped into the nearby San Agustin Church, the oldest stone church in the Philippines, which was completed in 1607.

Down the street, Silahis, an emporium of Philippine arts, crafts, artifacts, baskets, furniture, and books. There were so many gorgeous wooden bowls and vases there, along with really intricately woven baskets, furniture made from thick slabs of wood, and tapestries.

One of my favorite stops of the day was the Ayala Museum (, where we first viewed Chinese and Southeast Asian ceramics from the 14th-16th centuries. Next the "Gold of Ancestors" exhibition, which showcases over 1,000 gold objects from pre-colonial Philippines, such as jewelry, death masks, diadems, "orifice covers," the Laguna Copperplate (earliest known written document in the Philippines dating back from 900 A.D.), kinnari (golden vessel in Hindu mythology that represents beauty, grace, and accomplishment), the Boxer Codex (manuscript giving the earliest descriptions of Filipino people in a western language), etc.

We lunched at Banana Leaf, a pan-Asian restaurant, for Roti Canai Supreme (Malaysian flatbread) with curry sauce and Stir-fried Chinese Turnip Cake with beansprout and chives.

With full bellies, we returned to Ayala to view the visual art by Filipino artists (I particularly liked works by Victorio Edades, Benjamin Mendoza, Roberto Chabet, and Fernando Zobel), a collection of Philippine garments from the late 1800s, and, last but not least, an exhibition of about sixty intricately handcrafted diaroma scenes that depict pivotal moments in Philippine history. Again, since no cameras were allowed, here are images from online I found.

Before heading back, we stopped in at Ebun restaurant (decorated in a yellow monochromatic scheme with grey capiz shelled chandeliers) for an Ubas (grape) shake and then a nearby spot--Makati Cinema Square--so Jasmine could pick up a few pirated DVDs of a favorite show and movies!

In the Midnight Hour, We Cried More More More (El Nido please)

2010-06-19T01:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, we said our goodbyes to our beloved El Nido and arrived back in Puerto Princesa and checked back in to Casa Linda Inn for a night's stay.

For a merienda (snack), we headed to Ima's Gulay Bar, which was recently voted one of the ten best vegetarian restaurants in the Philippines. A grilled eggplant burrito, Thai tofu salad, and a dip made of roasted peppers, mango and corn served with (perhaps the best part) homemade tortilla wedges that were still hot and crisp.

Since we were tired from the long van ride from El Nido to Puerto Princesa (and, yes, a hard life of rigorous island hopping), we decided upon more indulgence with a traditional Pinoy Hilot massage and facial at Paranarean Body Spa. This traditional massage involved a lot of deep massaging, often with the thumbs, and cool banana leaves were placed on our backs. I dozed in and out of sleep during the entire process and woke up with super glistening skin (from the massage oils). For the first time in a few months, the knots in my back seem to have finally disappeared!

As an homage to our El Nido trip, here are several photos of the charming, sleepy town where electricity was available from 2pm-6am (so no ice cream but plenty of papaya and fresh fruit shakes); where the sound of roosters crowing woke us up each morning; where I'd go to sleep feeling the gentle tug of our colorful "Valentine" tour boat; where the clear, blue water only had existed before in our fantasies, where the stunning balcony view alone was almost enough to keep me there for good.

Today, we flew back to Manila. Jasmine and I drowned our post-Palawan woes at Cafe Xocolat, a funky place with very colorful reclaimed wood furniture, where we inhaled lunch (parmesan-crusted sole fillet with teriyaki sauce for me) and two desserts (brownie a la mode and chocolate cake) while we've been "working" (aka looking at our photos) on our laptops.

Final Day at El Nido Scuba Diving

2010-06-17T09:08:00.000-07:00

Before our first scuba diving lesson, we opted to start the day at Carabao Lounge for a Filipino breakfast of tocino (sweet sausage) with eggs, garlic rice, and coffee. With our master diver instructors, Wendil and Matar, from Palawan Divers we first stopped at Helicoptor Island for our training. We wriggled into our tight wetsuits and put on our BCD vests (Buoyancy control device) that can inflate or deflate with a touch of a button, regulator, goggles (freshly wiped with spit to keep them from fogging up), and fins.

Wendil, a smiley, super buff guy maybe in his 40s (Jasmine joked that even if he got an office job that he should just walk around without a shirt and wear just a tie) trained Jasmine while Matar (a younger, quieter guy with a goatee and Dyan noted, a slightly bad boy aura about him) trained Dyan in the shallow waters. I snorkeled nearby and watched them in hopes to mentally prepare for my own training.

At one point, I watched them gather and kneel around a spot on the ocean floor, as if to pray, but then I realized that they were observing a large sea turtle (about 4-5 ft. wide), which eventually swam away. I was so excited and followed it, trying to stay a good twenty feet behind it in hopes it would let me trail it for a while. The sea turtle was so graceful and appeared to be flying through the clear water, and finally picked up speed and left me in the dust. Here are Jasmine, Wendil, and Dyan preparing for their training dives.

On one hand, it's true that, as a pisces, I absolutely love the water but, on the other hand, I had grown up as kid without knowing how to swim (plus nearly drowning as a kid probably didn't help) and so I've also had a deep fear and awe of the ocean. I've taken three (yup three) adult beginning swim classes over the last several years. With each class, I've grown more confident and in the last class, the teacher pressured me to move to the advanced class, which met at the same time but on the other side of the pool, yet I wouldn't go...I couldn't imagine I was ready. But, in spite of this anxiety about deep water, I've wanted to try several water sports like scuba diving (and eventually surfing) for a long time now. I also have a fuzzy memory of reading a story as a kid about a huge manta ray and the image of it terrified me as a kid and still resonates with me a little, the thought of this enormous, ominous black shape in the murky water...

So three swim classes and now lots of snorkeling time later, here I was in the water with Wendil, ready for scuba diving training. He taught me how to breathe through the regulator (the mouthpiece connected to the air tank), how to recover the regulator in case it's knocked out of my mouth while I'm underwater, how to signal if something is wrong, how to equalize the pressure in my body by popping my ears, how to affect my buoyancy with my breathing, etc. To keep things light and playful while underwater, Wendil pulled out the regulator from his mouth and offered a huge goofy grin, which provoked me to laugh into my own regulator until I had to resurface in order regain my composure. Here I am with Wendil in the water.

On my second try scuba diving during the training, we gradually moved away from shore while Wendil pointed out various and wonderous marine life to me (a great way to keep a new student distracted I'm sure) and we moved slowly toward deeper waters, gradually reaching a depth of 25 feet. During this short dive, we viewed lion fish, an orange shark sucker (this is when we learned that, yes, there are sharks here), a dead crocodile needle fish, clown fish, parrot fish, damsel fish, and a school of barracuda, to name a few. At one point, I tried to turn so I could see what Wendil was pointing at, but I accidentally somehow hooked my arm under his regulator, unknowingly pulling it (his connection to his air tank) out of his mouth! And on top of that, we also were inadvertantly hooked together, facing away from each other (so neither of us could see the other's face or communicate with hand gestures), AND Wendil couldn't reach his emergency regulator to breathe! I was completely oblivious at the time about what was happening. I couldn't move away from him, but couldn't tell why, and I couldn't see that Wendil was without his regulator. The next thing I know, he's put his arms around me and is propelling us upward. After we finally reached the surface, he explained what had happened and when we returned to the boat, I felt so terrible that I nearly cried and just kept apologizing. He could see that my eyes were welling up and kept reassuring me that it was okay, that it's good for him to experience these things as a master diver!! He was so positive and had handled the situation so well. He said he hugged me because he didn't want me to also lose my own regulator in the struggle to get loose and so he forced both of us to move towards the surface, rather than risk me panicking and the situation becoming worse for us. He was all smiles afterwards and so encouraging. I hope much good kharma awaits his man!

After this harrowing first training dive, Wendil and Matar made us a lovely lunch of grilled rabbit fish, rice, and bananas. Then we climbed back on the boat and headed to the southern area of Miniloc Island for our second dive, which would be deeper (35-40 feet) and for a longer period of time (one hour). It felt very much like (and I know I'm being melodramatic here) but a scene out of a Navy Seals training commercial. Wendil and Matar taught us how to access the water while wearing all our gear (including a very heavy air tank)--that is, by sitting on the edge of the boat, back towards the water, chin to neck, regulator in mouth, and then allowing yourself to fall backwards over into the awaiting ocean. The drop in was surprisingly okay, but the descent down to the ocean floor was definitely frightening. We held onto the rope which held the boat's anchor, which was about 40 feet down. The boat was further from shore and the waters were choppy, so getting pushed and pulled around while wearing a bunch of cumbersome equipment was enough to get my heart racing. Dyan and I stayed with Matar who would lead us while Wendil lead Jasmine. I have to admit that during the first fifteen minutes or so of the dive, I was trying very hard to keep myself from panicking and giving the signal to go back up. The strong current of the water often felt threateningly close to pushing the regulator out of my mouth. Also, descending so quickly to the ocean floor (within 5-7 minutes) doesn't allow you to be in blissful ignorance about the dive's depth (as I did during the first training dive). That, along with the idea that we wouldn't be resurfacing for an hour and feeling the pressure in my ears as we descended, made me feel overwhelmed. With that said, I tried to go my "happy space," trying to stay calm while Matar would give the hand signal every few minutes asking if I was okay and I would return the same gesture, signalling that, yes, I was okay (even if it wasn't completely true). Gradually, however, I began to ease into the dive.

A positive turning point was when we saw a huge, gorgeous school of yellow snapper. I immediately had the impulse to join and follow them but quickly realized we were surrounded by them. Everywhere I turned, their translucent, iridescent bodies with bright yellow stripes! One of the most beautiful, surreal sites I've ever seen in my life. From then on, I felt amazed by what scuba diving can offer, how many more vibrant colors and marine life you can view, and up close to the point that many of the fish don't seem to even notice you're there. The crowded body of yellow snapper reminded me of a traffic jam, but I found it funny because, in this case, the snapper had all the space (and ocean) in the world to move yet the mysterious logic of the school kept them crowded together, moving like a single organism.

Just to give a sense, here's an abridged list of some of the wonders we viewed: unicorn fish, school of fusilier, puffer fish, moorish idol, yellowtail barricuda, parrot fish, clown fish, anemone, Napolean fish, cornet fish, trumpet fish, whip and cabbage coral, rabbit fish, large clams, sweeper fish, and a blue-spotted ribbontail stingray. One of the most memorable fish (black and white horizontal stripes on its back half, then red and other colors on its front half), Wendil couldn't even find in his fish books. Here are images of yellow snapper and the stingray (from the internet). By the time Matar lead us to the surface, I was surprised by how quickly the hour had passed and wished we had had more time.

For our last dinner in El Nido, we headed back to The Alternative (sat at our favorite spot, bean bags on the cozy balcony overlooking the shore). I couldn't resist having another taste of their banana heart curry (must must learn this recipe), spicy potato salad, weng weng cocktail, and pineapple dacquiri. We lounged on the bean bags and watched dramatic lightning storms in the distance while listening to more American pop songs, like Tina Turner's "Private Dancer" and Michael Bolton's "Sexual Healing." We eventually stopped by Ric Son's to enjoy some live music by a musician who performed covers, such as U2's "One Love" and Tom Petty's "Free." One of the cutest sites was a white pit bull mix on the floor a few feet behind the stage, not minding the loud music at all, its sweet face in deep sleep.

p.s. I'm remembering Jasmine's poet friend, Chingbee, who had told us that El Nido was much more spectacular than Bali (I had just expressed how much I'd wanted to visit Bali). Though I haven't been to Bali yet, I have to say that, after having visiting El Nido, I don't feel the pang as urgently to get to Bali (at least not during this trip). I also sense that El Nido is much less developed and more affordable than Bali. I can only hope that it'll stay that way for a little while longer. I'd love to revisit and learn more about the local culture and people...

p.p.s. my callouses from playing banjo have all but disintegrated from all the swimming and being in the water.

El Nido (part 3): In the Land of Goats and Kittens

2010-06-17T08:19:00.000-07:00

Our last two days in El Nido were waking dreams. I stayed up on Tuesday night and stood on our hotel balcony, watching the occasional passerby stroll down the beach, or dogs galloping down the shore, or staring at a night sky full of stars and with little light pollution.

Wednesday morning, we headed to Bacuit Grill for mixed fruit crepes with chocolate sauce(okay, not to Filipino in this case) but they were delicious and more like pancakes.

Next to Art Cafe for a cold watermelon drink before we headed out for our (can you believe it) our third island tour in the Bacuit archipelago. Today we parked ourselves at Pinaybuyutan Island where a herd of goats grazed (Jasmine joked that I was going to kidnap them for the goat farm I've always wanted).

If that was not enough, we approached the shore to find a litter of five kittens tromping around. My heart almost died seeing the goats and kittens together on this island. A couple of the kittens were secreting mucous from their eyes (some were sealed shut because of it), so I'd kidnap one back at a time to the boat so I could wash their faces with water and a towel, until I could see that they could re-open their eyes again. After that, they followed us everywhere. Even when our guide, Ruoldin, decided to climb a coconut tree to retrieve a few coconuts and then chop them with a machete so we could drink and eat from them, the kittens would snuggle together under Ruoldin's legs as he squatted over the coconuts. Sailing away from that island with two of the kittens at the shoreline meowing at us kind of killed me a little.

At Cathedral Cave, we snorkeled in and had to dodge jellyfish and, in doing so, I felt like I was playing that game, dodging bombs so your plane wouldn't blow up. But once inside the cave, we viewed walls 30-40 ft. tall walls with long, vertical streaks of peach and lavender. The pungent smell of bat piss and guano (gag) was prevalent, but the best part was a school of what reminded us of minnows (hundreds of them) circling all around us. It was quite dramatic to see underwater as you're swimming out of a dark space into the light.

Larry and Ruoldin then took us to one of the islands privately owned by The Alternative Restaurant where we saw a few modest beach huts built for the island's caretakers, along with a garden and picnic tables. Apparently, the island is rumored to have a treasure buried on it too (yes, no joke). As an afternoon storm hit the island, we devoured a lunch by Larry and Ruolding which consisted of a table of grilled tuna steaks and chicken, eggplant salad ("Japanese eggplant" in vinegar with tomato), pineapple and yellow mango, plus beautifully shaped culinary sculptures by Larry, including a swan made of sliced tomato. The storm quickly passed, which allowed for us to snorkel more and I found the corals' colors there reminiscent of sherbert, or as if a blacklight were shown on them, intensifying certain colors. We were later shown a cave (also owned by The Alternative) that required us to crawl through a narrow opening in order to access the cave (which again smelled of bat piss and guano). Larry also informed us that some archeologists found human remains inside the cave in the 90s.

During high tide, we checked out another privately-owned island by The Alternative (just on the other side of the island) where I napped on the ship, loving the sound of the waves and rocking of the boat.

For our last two stops we explored Snake Island and Fandalusion Island. Snake Island includes a long strip of raised, white sand that stretches for at least half a mile and weaves like a snake). Close to Snake Island, you can see Vigan Island where 40-50 families inhabit the island.

Fandalusion Island, in particular, offered, in my opinion, one of the best snorkel spots in the entire Bacuit area--coral resembling fireworks, or cabbage corals ranging from 5-15 feet wide in diameter. The cabbage coral sometimes looked like large, partially acid-eaten skulls, or like large atomic mushroom clouds frozen during mid-explosion. And schools of fish appeared to travel down an invisible highway, or as if they were tied to fishing line(because the water was so clear). We also hiked to a spot that overlooked much of the island. One of the many things to note about our time snorkeling at Fandalusion Island was this mysterious orange-colored jellyfish-looking thing. I became immediately intrigued and tried to follow it around, swirling in circles to makes sure I could see it, trying to momentarily cup the thumb-sized thing in my palms.

After another hard day of snorkeling (the hard life I know), we ate dinner at Bacuit Grill where I tried Shrimp Bacuit with Rice (basically large prawns in a smoky-flavored, spicy cocktail sauce).

p.s. Tomorrow I'll write about our first scuba diving experience (where I almost accidentally killed our instructor!).

El Nido Part 2: Can I Apply for a Fulbright to Snorkel?

2010-06-15T04:49:00.000-07:00

Okay, so we're on day two of tours with the same company (The Alternative), trusty boat "Valentine," and tour guides--Larry and Rouldin, two super nice guides who really try to ensure that we have the best, most memorable experience possible.

First stop was Star Beach where we snorkeled again (how predictable we've become)and frolicked under the sun. This time Jasmine and Dyan saw a couple of turtles swimming and we were introduced to marine life called "crown of stars," which the internet describes as "a large sea star found throughout the Indian and Pacific Oceans. Crown-of-thorns live and prey on live corals, often killing them in the process." They have an ominous look to them, like metallic ninja stars of the sea, just waiting for an unexpecting tourist to rub against them...thankfully, this was the only site where they seemed prevalent at all.

We next made an attempt to access the Secret Beach, a cove only accessible through a hole that's mostly submerged so it usually requires swimming underwater to get inside, but the army of jellyfish and the choppy waves kept us at bay to try again later.

Onto Talasay Beach ("talasay" refers to a kind of tree) for another incredible lunch prepared by Larry and Rouldin. We feasted on grilled grouper and chicken, their famous potato salad, rice, squid, vegetable medley, and pineapple and bananas. The young [C]orean couple (Irene and Noah) who joined us for this tour stayed on shore as we took underwater photos of the fish in the clear water.

After stuffing our faces, we felt more confident to approach the Secret Beach again, but thankfully, the jellyfish guarding the entrance were long gone. This gorgeous, hard-to-access cove was straight out of some horror flick set in some island paradise, where tourists happily try to access this hidden gem of a place, but then find out that their island paradise holds mayhem (and usually murder) for them all. Well, our cove was spectacular(no mayhem at all) and my favorite spot we have seen thus far. Also because the tide had receded a little since our first attempt, we were able to safely pass through with enough room for our heads to be above water. The entire cove was maybe 100-150 feet wide, encircled entirely with jutting rock that reached up to 30-40 feet in the air. The coral and underwater rocks were the most colorful I've seen on the trip so far--mottled purples, blotches of mauves, accents of bright yellows, as if a giant had splattered paint everywhere.

And, of course, many many colorful fish! Plus the coral and rocks lead to deep underwater caves that would probably make any cave diver drool while I, on the other hand, felt in awe and admittedly a bit nervous staring into the caves' black mouths. On the far end of the cove is a tiny beach, small enough for a hut (I joked that we should have a timeshare here and later asked our guides how much this property would cost). Luckily, we bought a waterproof camera and took photos of the coral and semi-submerged entryway.

Our fourth stop was to Matildo Island where you can see, oddly enough, a small Catholic church built in the 1990s. We climbed some precarious rocks serving as steps to a point that overlooked much of the island and where a five-foot cross was posted. Check out the funny band pic by the cross:

After a brief wade around Hidden Beach (or Kolasa Beach), we snorkeled at Helicoptor Island, our final spot before heading back to El Nido. I saw a huge 40-oz. bottle of Red Horse Beer submerged among the coral, which I found funny and wanted to take a photo of, but then, with the choppy waters that quickly pushed you around, I couldn't find the spot anymore...drat. So instead, I opted to look for more seashells, chatted with Irene and Noah, and secretly chuckled to myself about the skinny French guy (he and his pals have often been at the same sites, presumably because they're on a similar tour) sporting a faint yet trimmed mustache and sunbathing in a speedo. Ah, those French! At some point during our trip in paradise today, Larry (one of our guides) weaved together a hat made of a coconut palm frond.

We commemorated our day with a snack and drink at The Alternative--bread and dip made from cashews, coconut milk, garlic, and bell peppers; plus a "Goji Blast" drink (goji berries, rum, nutmeg)--white lounging on a small, raised deck that jutted out over the shore.

And just to give a sense of the many fish we've seen while snorkeling, here's a poster of common tropical fish in the Philippines that I found online (most of the fish we recognize from our trip but there are still others we've seen that are not on here).

p.s. I've added photos to my post from yesterday.

El Nido: Where Land Is Merely the Reflection of the Sea

2010-06-13T02:32:00.001-07:00

Yesterday morning I tried a popular breakfast treat--taho (soft tofu and tapioca balls with a dark, sweet sauce--sometimes made of Coca Cola--poured on top, plus condensed milk in this version). Then we left our lovely Casa Linda Inn in Palawan and headed to El Nido, which was about a five-hour van ride northeast in pretty rural areas and down dirt roads. For quick lunch break, I ate pinakbet (a dish with bitter melon, squash, some kind of green beans) and more fresh, fresh kilawin!

The trip, though long and hot, was beyond worth it. The view from our room at Rosanna's Cottages is the most stunning I've ever seen and overlooks the ocean and incredible bluffs. All this for about $10/night for each of us!

Here are images from the evening as the sun was setting and with the receding tide.

For lunch, we ate seafood pizza with tuna, shrimp, squid, and garlic, along with a tomato and cucumber salad at Taiyo Cafe, which is a short jaunt from Rosanna's Cottages. I also tried a Red Horse Beer, another Filipino San Miguel brand, which is supposedly (according to the label) "very strong" and the alcohol content is curiously not noted anywhere on the label. And for dinner (so much stupendous gluttony) at Bacuit Grill Bar and Restaurant, we partook in the happy hour for a few mango dacquiris and pancit bahon and canton (a Chinese-influenced noodle dish with mushroom, carrots, and other vegetables).

Each day keeps one-upping the day before! First, breakfast at Taiyo Cafe for tapsilog (beef tapa with rice and egg with fruit salad). Today, we took an island hopping tour where we visited four lagoons (the fourth being called the "secret lagoon"), followed by a visit to Simiso Island (my favorite spot!) and then to Seven Commandos Island. At each spot, we snorkeled our butts off.

Here are some of my descriptions of what I viewed while snorkeling and I'll probably resort sometimes to comparisons of that which is usually not found in the sea--coral resembling white deer antlers, mauve heads of cabbage (many cabbage coral everywhere), table coral...one spanned 20-30 feet in width, tentacle-y coral resembling those of an octopus (but the tour guide confirmed that it was indeed coral), huge rust-colored dandelions, orange monarch butterflies, clam mouthlike openings, desertlike landscapes (only submerged). Then the fish! Too many to count or describe, of all colors, electric and soft, darting shimmering coins, striped, lavender, yellows, blues. The poisonous: sea urchins, lion fish, stone fish. At one point, Larry, one of our tour guides, held an orange puffer fish in his hands and let us feel its skin--felt like someone's two-week old shaved head. He also held a sea cucumber--its surface a bumpy and slimy as a toad.

The lagoons and islands were absolutely breathtaking and the sites on this tour trumped anything we've seen thus far. The steep, grey, chiseled bluffs surrounding the lagoons evoked a Fantasy Island or Planet of the Apes kind of feel. We kept joking about the obscene beauty of the lagoons and islands of this tour. At one point, a rainbow was visible, followed by a crane swooping close to the water's surface, which just sent us into a joking tirade about how one person could only handle so much beauty in a given moment!

At one point, our two tour guides made lunch for us (the tour cost about $14 and included an entire's day of snorkeling, six sites, snorkeling gear, and lunch) along the shore, which consisted of satay, rice, grilled milk fish and red snapper, potato salad, vegetables, and a fruit salad of pineapple, bananas, and the most sumptuous mango I've ever had in my life. I collected seashells while we waited and had to stop myself from stealing the entire sea's worth of them.

I've officially fell in love with snorkeling. The sensation of floating along, viewing such incredible sea life, but then coming to a sudden drop of 40+ feet in the ocean floor...well, I can only maybe compare this experience to what it might feel like to drive off a cliff, but in slow motion. First there's the feeling of sheer terror, but then exhilaration and pure wonder when you realize that, first of all, that you're not going to fall and, two, you're actually going to continue flying over that precipice, suspended over the world (in this case, the ocean's worlds) for as long as you want. I have to say that snorkeling for me is the closest thing I can imagine to flying and I would argue that it actually is flying. And if I had to choose between my best, most fantastical dream and snorkeling, I'd most likely choose the latter.

For dinner, we parked ourselves at The Alternative Restaurant where I devoured a banana heart curry (I'm determined to learn how to cook it now) with a kapioroske drink made of vodka, kalamansi limes and brown sugar.

The Ocean is a Big Beautiful Lung

2010-06-13T01:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after a short van ride (half hour?), we found ourselves in Honda Bay (Puerto Princesa City) for an island hopping tour (it's sick I know that such things exist). After heading further away from the shore in another outrigger boat, we jumped into the water wearing our snorkel gear. This was only my second time snorkeling (first time was in Cahuita, Costa Rica when I was traveling alone) and I was surpised at how immediately at ease I felt in the water, but for a pisces, perhaps this shouldn't be so surprising. We weren't warned but fist-sized jellyfish were as prevalent in the water as the coral though their stings felt about the equivalent to a bad mosquito bite. My neophyte descriptions of the coral: big, blue heads of cauliflower; a city of brains with shades of powder blue, yellows, whites, and rusts; wide pine cones dusted with powdered sugar (apparently the stark whiteness of the coral here is sadly a result of some kind of poison fishermen had used although it was still very stiking to see). At one point, I noticed a white, expansive blur and as I floated closer, the shape then resembled a large white lily pad, then closer, you could see all the tiny white bronchiole shapes of the coral itself. I started laughing into my snorkel mask from all the wonderous sites.

Next onto Snake Island (my favorite of the three spots) where you could see more fish and coral, where the water easily dropped down 40-50 feet close to shore, and there were less tourists than on the third island. For lunch, the tour group prepared inihaw (grilled) pork, eggplant, and whole tuna, along with strands of pearl-like seaweed.

The final island--Pendan Island--is where Cai, Jasmine, Dyan, and I decided to have outdoor massages and where I fell asleep under the shade of some trees. This was a great place to spot many colorful fish! I hope I can find out the names of them and post more about them here but many bore bright, vibrant yellows (maybe one of my favorite colors in the world), along with shimmery pinks and blues, fish that resembled mini swordfish, zebra-striped fish. I loved that I could have a bird's eye view of schools of fish from the water's surface.

Later that night, back in Palawan, we stopped in at Ka Loui Restaurant for dinner: clam soup, Palawan seafood sisig (with seafood though usually made with pork), seafood kangkong (greens), spicy squid, tuna steak with atschara (shredded, pickled papaya), tempura kaka, kilawin (a ceviche-like dish and the best and freshest I've ever had! I've become totally ruined by the wonderful seafood in the Philippines), shrimps halabos (steamed), and fruit salad topped with brown sugar and served in coconuts. The meals here generally have ranged in cost from $2-4!

We ended the night with a stopover at a quaint karaoke bar where a half dozen locals showed off their vocal skills, singing songs in Tagalog and English. I decided to belt out to the likes of George Michael's "Careless Whispers" (since the song has been infecting my mind for several days now), then Jasmine and Cai sang a heartfelt rendition of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and Dyan sang to Justin Timberlake's "Cry Me a River."

Subterranean Seduction of the Underground River (7th Wonder of the World?)

2010-06-11T03:34:00.001-07:00

This day is for "best of" bank of my memories! We started off with our respective morning drugs of choice--for me, a kalmansi (lime) shake and then a nearby bakery for some Spanish bread.

Early this morning, we hopped on a tour van for a 2-hr trip to the rural city of Sabang, home of the Puerto Princesa National Park and the Underground (or Subterranean) River, which was the Filipino nominee for the 7th wonder of the world. The road to Sabang was windy but that didn't stop the driver from speeding and almost running over a rooster on the way. We arrived in the sleepy town of Sabang where you could see St. Paul Mountain in the distance about which our tour guide said the mountain resembled a sleeping giant, but he joked that the giant probably wasn't Filipino(because the 'nose' shape at the tip of the mountain was too prominent).

In the park, one might see monkeys, monitor lizards, up to 15 endemic species, and up to 41 species of butterfly! The Underground River is 8.2 km (about 5 miles) long and almost 200 ft. high inside. From Sabang, we rode these colorful outrigger boats to the lagoon at the cave entrance to the river. The water in the lagoon was unbelievably blue and clear and you could easily view the dark schools of fish languidly moving towards you.

Then in a group of about dozen or so, we rode another small boat into the mouth of the cave at the head of the river. Bats and birds (don't know yet the name of the species but it's the bird that makes its nest with spit) sped around in the air around us. Apparently, the Underground River flows directly to the sea; the lower half of the river is brackish and subject to tidal influence. Once inside the cave, our river guide spoke in Tagalog and English, but always used a deadpan humor to describe the cave formations alongside the river. The cave's walls and formations appeared as if vats of vanilla and chocolate ice cream were poured upon their limestone faces and sludging towards the earth. Our river guide pointed out formations that resembled the virgin Mary, or Jim Carrey in The Mask, or a jellyfish, or Bart Simpson, or a fruits and vegetable section (of Filipino varieties), etc., which made the tour that much more interesting and humorous. To say the cave and Underground River were breathtaking is so horribly inadequate, but any description or photos (especially from my crappy camera) will be too. The guide also pointed out that we would be limited to staying in the boat because there are large tarantulas in the cave, as well as snakes and eels in the water.

For lunch back in Sabang, the tour company provided Filipino dishes, such as liempo (pork belly), guindaria (fish), adobong kangkong (veggie dish), adobong chicken, and tamarind soup (one of my favorite!).

Dinner was the most extravagant and dreamlike so far! Badiao Seafood Restaurant is a popular spot for the mayor of Puerto Princesa to bring guests to and it's very easy to see why. The large, open-air restaurant overlooking the ocean is decorated with tall yellow curtains, wooden tables with bamboo placemats, and then the food! When we rode tricycles, I opted to ride side-saddle behind the driver, which is a bit precarious since the driver would often speed so nail-spittinhgly close to pedestrians, dogs, and oncoming traffic...so close in face that I thought my toes would be sliced off!

We order a fixed price menu of clam soup (so amazingly fresh, with ginger, garlic, and spring onion), whole steam fish with black bean sauce, crispy shrimps, pandan chicken (breaded and fried), Filipino eggplant with coconut milk (maybe my favorite...so much better than the European variety of eggplant...supple and satisfying), rice and a fruit salad of plantains, papaya, and pineapple for dessert.

The beach of Sabang itself may be the most gorgeous beach I've ever seen (and much more so than the ones I've seen even in Costa Rica). It all just felt obscenely beautiful--colorful outrigger boats dotting the water, extremely fine sand, Filipino children swimming, clouds intermingled between the mountains in the background--it's a tourist's wet dream (and I did admittedly succumb to its beauty in goofy awe). I just stood knee-deep in the water and just couldn't stop staring at Sabang's exquisite landscape.

Charlie's Angels (Asian style in Puerto Princessa)

2010-06-10T07:03:00.000-07:00

We (Jasmine, her friend Diane, and I) flew to Puerto Princesa City in the Palawan Island Province, which was a little over an hour away by plane and southwest of Manila. Jasmine's poet friends, the ones we met the previous night, assured us that, not only was Palawan spectacular in its beauty, but that it rivals--if not surpasses--the beaches of Bali (which I'd mentioned was a place I've wanted to visit for years too, along with the Philippines).

We're staying a quaint, laid back place called Casa Linda Inn where the inner courtyard area comes with a wonderful lazy area complete with hammock and reaching chairs under a veranda.

We rode an extra-wide tricyle (barely large enough to carry us four) to Kamarikutan Kape at Galeri, an open-air restaurant deeper in the forest and secluded, where I devoured a dinner of adobong manok sa gata (chicken adobo in coconut milk with rice and tomato and cucumber slices). And yup, yet another papaya shake! Tha restaurant felt reminiscent of some large, tucked-away beach hut with artwork adorning the walls, koi pond, and huge lanterns lining the ceiling.

Cai pointed out a white kalachuchi flower. In Filipino culture, it's believed that if you smell the flower's fragrance, this indicates that a dead relative of yours is trying to make their presence known to you.

Another quick tricycle ride down the street to Kinabucks Grill and Bar for some white wine, banana turon delight (Filipino-style dessert made of plantains or bananas in a fried crepe with jackfruit sauce), and people watching where most of the clientele looked like tourists (really the first time I'd seen more than two white foreigners too). Also, the tvs there featured the World Cup game between North and South [C]orea...really want to know the outcome of that game! The menu here also included crocodile, goat meat, and Tamilok (a classic Palawan ceviche dish including wood-worms that supposedly taste like oysters).

On another note,after hearing George Michael's "Careless Whispers" several times while I've been in the Philippines, I've decided I'm going to learn it on the banjo when I get back to the States.

p.s. While writing this blog entry, a little grey tabby kitten was meowing incessantly from atop a seat cushion a few feet away from me. I brought it over and it lounged on my lap, but then continuously demanded my attention by nipping at my arm for more petting and love, but when I stopped, it would, of course, meow again. This kitten, like the other cats I've seen here, are all very skinny, perhaps undernourished, their bodies and tails appear longer somehow...

As David Byrnes says, "Heaven is a place, a place where nothing [but massages] ever happen" (Philippines, part 2)

2010-06-09T08:46:00.000-07:00

We headed to the gianormous market area in Quiapo district today where one can find/see/hear just about anything--roosters crowing, tarot card readings, any number of amazing fruits and varieties of mangoes, anything made of pasiz mother-of-pearl such as chandeliers, coasters, picture frames; then there were also protective charms and amulets, electronics, even tonics for inducing abortions, and every pirated film on dvd.

Within the Quiapo district, we once rode a pedicab, which basically is a guy on a bike with us sitting in a cab attached to it. A pretty incredible way of weaving down the market streets! Check out the pretty pink one we rode in!

Must haves to handle the heat in the Philippines: a sweat rag, umbrella, and water water water.

One thing I noticed is that popular 80s and 90s songs in the U.S. can be heard everywhere here, whether it be blaring in the market place, inside 7-11s, or from the taxi radios. Here are some of the songs I heard yesterday alone: MC Hammer's "Can't Touch This," Roxette's "It's Over Now," Bon Jovi's "I'll Be There for You" (a Filipino man strolling into 7-11 immediately began to sing to this one aloud...so cute), and a fantastic cover of Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" by a group of female singers harmonizing through the entire song.

For lunch, Jasmine had researched about this place, Manosa Restaurant, a great Chinese restaurant where we ordered maki (a thick soup with pork that you add vinegar and sriracha hot chile sauce to) along with a plate of siomai but these were a bit larger than we were used to in the States (so not sure what region the recipe is from) though most likely made with similar ingredients: some mix of ground pork, beef, shrimp, and veggies inside. The women who worked at the restaurant sat at a table a few feet away and stared intently at the silly foreigners (aka us) and giggled. I leaned over to Jasmine and said I felt like we were part of some laughable art performance or installation.

Then for the ride back to Quezon City, we took what's called an "FX"--essentially a van or utility-like vehicle that you share with other strangers needing a ride. We stopped at a Chowking (a popular fastfood chain in the Philippines) for bowl of "halo- halo"--a signature Filipino dessert made of shaved ice, boiled sweet beans, fruits, ice cream, and ube (purple yam). So so so good.

We then treated ourselves to stone massages! I could write several pages about this massage alone (and I had originally planned to), but I'll just say that it was beyond incredible--the best I've ever had (at least of the dozen or so I've experienced in my life and those were usually prompted by pretty bad circumstances, such as not being able to turn my neck at all after working too long at the computer. Anyway, the stone massage went something like this: you're placed under several blankets that are shifted around as various hot stones are placed on your body at different stages. At one point, the massage became a little too intimate in a hilarious way. For instance, the masseuse covered everything except my arse and then proceeded to massage the hell out of it (ergh). I felt like saying something like "hey, you're getting precariously close to third base there!" What cracks me up is that she would quietly say, "excuse me" before shifting the blankets and massaging a new area, but for the butt massage, she said nothing...no warning! Okay, however, the stretching, deep massage, and almost-searing stones left me feeling completely and utterly blissed out. And, yes, all this hour-long bliss for about $9-10.

Feeling refreshed, Jasmine and I met up with some poet friends of hers--Conchitina Cruz, Christina, Adam, Mabi (founders and/or supporters of High Chair Press, an independent press in the Philippines)--at a nearby bar called Querico. They were a great group of folks and, over a bucket or two of San Miguel beers (this time though, at about 75 cents each vs. Singapore's exorbitant prices) we talked about poetry, Philippino culture, traveling, near-death experiences, our sometimes difficult mothers, etc.

p.s. Jasmine introduced me to one of her favorite Filipino bands, Sandwich. Here's a video for their song "DVD X" which is about the whole dvd piracy culture in the Philippines and features a prominent Filipino politician at the end.

p.p.s Have been fighting feelings of guilt about the indulging and gluttony of the past week. Not sure what I feel about the ethics of vacationing, let alone about the ethics of photography (especially taking candid photos of folks here).

In the Philippines, Where Jesus is On My Side

2010-06-08T08:34:00.000-07:00

It's my second day in the Philippines and I have to say, I'm loving every minute of the adventure. My dear friend, Jasmine, has been the best person to explore with here since this is the second time she's lived in the Philippines and she knows how to maneuver through Manila's busy streets. One of the most intriguing things here are the various modes of transportation one can choose from. First, you have the jeepneys, which are basically longish jeeps left by the U.S. after WWII (though they apparently manufacture new ones too now) that have been converted into what are essentially the equivalent to public buses in the U.S. but they're much more colorful, without air conditioning, with personalized hand-painted designs all over them, and entered through the back, and cost much less than a bus at home (about 16 cents U.S.!). I have seen so many different jeepneys--they're everywhere--from ones sporting Tom Cruise's face from Top Gun, Winnie the Pooh, painted portraits of relatives, etc. Next you have the tricycle (or trike), a kind of motorcycle taxi with a side carriage barely large enough for two. It's kind of a death trap but fun to be whizzing by cars in tight spaces.

Jasmine showed me around two of the universities--first, the University of Philippines where many of the smarties go since it's one of the best (if not best) university there and Ateneo University (another very well-respected university) and private.

Culinary adventures (I could eat here forever):
1) mangosteen: a pretty fruit resembling a plum, but the pulp that you eat in the inside looks like a soft clove of garlic but tastes like a cross between a banana and a citrus-ey fruit.

2) Mogwai: described as a "restaurant/bar/screening room" where Jasmine and I enjoyed a cocktail called the "piranha" made with vodka, creme de cacoa, and coca cola. Yummy...

3) Van Gogh is Bipolar (yes, that's the name of the restaurant): According to a site, "Jetro, the owner of the resto, is bipolar. The entire premise of Van Gogh is Bipolar revolves around introducing mood-altering inspired dishes that trigger happy hormones in the body. The restaurant pays tribute to popular bipolar people by naming the food in honor of them. This is one of the interesting places to visit on the Foodie Street of Maginhawa in Sikatuna Village, Quezon City." I have to say, I absolutely loved the food and atmosphere of this place! I ordered the "Godfather 2," which consisted of Vangogh rice topped with Norwegian salmon, pine nuts, currents?, mango, basil, and served in cabbage leaves. My god it was so good. One of my most favorite restaurants of all time--imagine a smidgen bohemian with an eccentric flair, plus lots of looseleaf tea and pretty, ceramic tea pots from which you can choose (for an after-meal cup of tea) and an adorable big-eared cat (with kittens) that stares up at you and keeps you company.

4) Likha Diwa Restaurant: A funky, intimate place where we had lunch shortly after I arrived to Quezon City (where Jasmine lives). We shared two delicious entrees--kare-kare (a stew with peanut sauce and green beans, eggplant, bokchoy, and bagoong, which is a vegeterian version of a shrimp paste); then a meal consisting of banana heart cooked in coconut milk with tofu; washed down with a mango yogurt and durian soymilk drinks!

Today, Jasmine and I spent the day in the city of Las Piñas (1.5-2 hour bus ride south of Manila) where many of her relatives on her mother's side live and where her cousin, Frances, was getting married to Larry (her sweetheart of eight years) in the open-air Mary Immaculate Church, which may be the prettiest church I've ever seen. The ceiling was made of woven fans that were overlapped together and resembled a golden-textured dome, the seats were essentially gorgeous, thick slabs of shellacked tree stumps. What struck me the most were the dozens and dozens and dozens of life-size doves made of capiz, a mother-of-pearl shell, that were arranged in a spiral formation along the high ceilings and apparently each dove serves as a light as well. Sadly, my crappy camera couldn't capture the beauty there, so pictures (thanks to Jasmine) are soon to come.

The wedding ceremony was basically (and this coming from a heathen's lack of knowledge) a Catholic ceremony, the priest speaking in either Tagalog or English. One of the bridesmaids' kids (pictured below) was dangerously close to being kidnapped by me because she was so freakin adorable.

One of best moments in the wedding reception was the photo booth where guests could try on silly hats and accessories while taking goofy photos together...hence, the one below.

p.s. I loved that "Hotel California" played on the radio when we were on the way to the wedding!

48 hours of Singapore

2010-06-05T08:56:00.000-07:00

20 Things to Love about Singapore (so far and in no real order):

1) "Hawker stations" (or centers) where you can find an infinite number of cheap, yummy meals for less than $3 US dollars. So far, mostly at hawker stations, I've tried red bean ice cream sandwiched in an actual slice of lime-colored bread, beef and mutton satay, duck rice, laksa (a noodle dish in spicy coconut broth with seafood and basil), cereal prawn, coconut and sugar cane juice, the cotton-candylike threads of pork on the floss bread at Bread Talk, carrot cake (more like an omelet with radishes and some carrot), stingray (very good!), and lime juice with plum. Someone please cart me away...

2) The Treetop Walk in the MacRitchie Reservoir where Ces, Cai, and I hiked in the intense heat and were utterly unprepared (we carried no water and wore flip-flops), plus we did admittedly get lost for a while and walked past the same spot twice. However, we did see monkeys, a monitor lizard that was about 3 ft in length, a mud-covered turtle, birds, and yes, walked across the Treetop bridge, which made Cai a little nervous because of how high up we were. Ces, on the other hand, was hilarious, bitching about the heat and length of the hike, at one point shouting, "Thanks, Cai!" as a scornful yet playful show of gratitude for suggesting the hike. I have never, ever, ever sweated so much.

3) East Coast Lagoon: On the way, Cai pointed out these tiny plants called "I'm shy"--once you touch their leaves, they immediately fold in, similar to a Venus Fly Trap. There we ate and ate (see above mentioned foods) and sat on the shore and watched folks enjoy various water sports like windsurfing and parachute surfing.
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4) Little India: Admittedly one of my favorite moments! We went last night (Sunday) and noticed that the area was teeming and 95% of the folks were men. We later learned that Sunday night is particularly busy and attracts many local Indians to Little India (though still not sure where all the women were) for the restaurants. Ces, Cai, Joann (their friend/housemate), and I headed to Komalas Vila Restaurant for an assortment of dishes, many of which I'd never seen on a menu, but I went for one of my favorites--vegetable Kofta curry--which was a hit with everyone and maybe the best I've ever tasted.

5) The downtown Esplanade, two hotels connected by a rooftop pool, Philippino drum band performance, public sculptures by Botero and Dali as well as local art by the likes of Danny Yung (conceptual comics series) and an installation made of plastic trash bags by Khalil Chistee entitled "Dreaming of Dreaming"; merlion,

6) Riverside Indonesian BBQ at the Tampinese Mall. We ordered Ayam Panggang which basically consisted of a BBQed chicken leg, rice drenched in curry sauce, a fried egg, soup, and salad, plus fresh papaya shakes and a plate of fresh fruit on ice...all of for less than $5 US.

7) Sentosa Island, a manmade island consisting of 3.2 km of sandy beaches (the sand was brought in, apparently from Malaysia!). I splashed in the pretty mosaic wade pools alongside the kids before we tried a luge ride (described on their site as "Part go-cart, part-toboggan, pure excitement"). Perhaps my favorite part was visiting the Azura Beach Club where we sat poolside and stared at the enfolding scene of perfectly toned bodies traipsing around in their swimsuits. I kept telling Ces and Cai that it felt as if a beer commercial was about to be shot there, or that someone like Usher was about to shoot a music video there at any moment since the folks there were so beautiful and perfect-looking.

Other observations from a neophyte in Singapore:

Singaporeans love their shopping (a great way to get out of the heat)and many malls are underground and connected to each other. Alcohol is insanely expensive (6 bottles of San Miguel equaled somewhere around $50! A disgruntled taxi driver said he believes the government is very corrupt and promotes inhumane labor standards, and age discrimination. Asian babies, I've deduced, are the cutest ever and I'm not biased, nor making any gross generalizations or being essentialist at all. Nope, not me.

On the Road Again, Just Can't Wait to Get on the Road Again (to San Francisco)

2010-06-01T00:38:00.001-07:00

My friend, Halina and I drove from Salt Lake to the Bay Area, first stopping for a night in Winnemucca, NV where we later sat in our hotel beds, eating BLTs and fries and watching The Hangover on tv. True mindless relaxation! The next day when we reached Emeryville and I saw those huge metal structures (the ones that inspired George Lucas for Star Wars?), I felt so excited to be back in the Bay Area. I met up with friends, Julia and Jennifer, for sushi at Tokyo Go-Go, and lichee cocktails.

The next day Jules and I rented a city car share for a few hours and headed to Stinson Beach, which was teeming with
sunbathers and folks. Lounging in sunhats and watching the people frolick in the waves was about the best thing in the world, followed up with dinner at Chow --a Grilled Prawn Louis salad with the largest prawns ever, avocado, tomato, organic farm egg, beets, olives .

I stopped by Isotope Comics (voted best comic book store in SF) to buy about 3 dozen comic books that my friend, Ces, asked me to get and bring to Singapore for her. I also bought a graphic novel, We Are On Our Own, by Miriam Katin, which is basically a memoir about what Katin and her Hungarian Jewish mother had experienced during 1944-45 while trying to flee from the Nazis. I headed over to Berkeley where Jennifer and I hung out for most of the day, shopping, then chilling out at this lovely place where she is housesitting. The backyard was lined with incredible, alien-like flowers...one of millions you see everywhere in the Bay Area.

On my last day, Julia and I scoured the Mission, walking, talking, reminiscing, enjoying a day of gluttony and indulgence: lunch at La Boulange where I tried one of the best salads consisting of smoked trout, applies, avocado, and potato. I found a cheap, used copy of the graphic novel, Jar of Fools by Jason Lutes at Dog Eared Books and a sketchbook at Modern Times, browse the minutiae (including two-headed birds, fossils, plants, etc.) inside Paxton Gate, plus picked up a much needed and purty blue iron teapot at Currents. I also convinced the woman working at 826 Valencia to sell me some player piano paper I found in one of the drawers. Then reversed dinner starting with dessert--ginger ice cream at Bi Rite Creamery (my favorite ice cream place followed by Mitchell's and Bombay Creamery) followed by Thai--pumpkin curry and some green-noodle dish--at Osha.

In-N-Out of Mystic Hot Springs

2010-05-15T19:48:00.000-07:00

Last week Catie, V, and I went to Mystic Hot Springs (I think that may be my fifth or sixth time in two years?) in Monroe, Utah, which is about three hours south of Salt Lake. We soaked for what was a record for me--maybe 4-5 hours! And we left the water feeling both blissed out and beaten up. Catie suspects that the water may have pulled out lots of toxins from our bodies, leaving us feeling like slugs in beer. And later that night in our little cabin, V told us one of the creepiest ghost stories that left me afraid to turn off the lights and the next morning we each remembered having disturbing dreams. In the morning we headed back to Salt Lake but not before I accidentally headed too far on I-70 E (for approximately another hour or more!) until V and Catie pointed out that our drive was looking suspiciously like the one to Moab, and yes, that's because it was. So what should've been a 3-hour drive took maybe about 6. We stopped at Cebello's so Catie could buy more feathers for her lovely earring creations and where I gawked frighteningly at the eerily large gun safes and taxidermy. Then we hit an In-N-Out Burger in Draper for dinner. On the very bottom of the fry package, I noticed the tiny text, "Revelation 3:20." A bible verse on fast food packaging?! I couldn't believe it, and then we noticed another one under the bottom of our drink cups too. When I asked an employee why, she simply said, "Oh, we're a Christian-based company." Sadly, I lost my appetite and couldn't finish my food.

Today, noticed this little gem of architecture ingenuity about "How an Apartment Transforms into 24 Rooms."

I finished the home buyer education class today! Not sure if buying a house is the right decision right now, but I'm going to meet with the instructor this Friday to see what he thinks is realistic for me.

Kayce's Wedding Weekend

2010-05-08T19:24:00.001-07:00

Kayce and Chris tied the knot this past weekend. Well, I guess they already were technically married, but this was the "official" ceremony and reception in Kayce's hometown of Jacksonville, Florida. I had the chance to catch up with my good friends, Kristin and Natalie, and hang out a little at Neptune Beach. Kayce and Chris are both visual artists and an adorable, creative match who play music and make art together. During the ceremony and before the bride and groom said their vows, Kayce's father played guitar and sang a song that brought everyone to tears, myself included, snot practically running down my face because it was so moving.

The plague that was April

2010-04-29T20:37:00.000-07:00

I'm heading to Florida tomorrow morning and, I have to say, that this time, I'm actually really looking forward to it and getting out of town. With the recent bout of bad news and turmoil, I'm longing to see out-of-town friends, family, and sunshine. I'll be leaving a rainy/snowy Salt Lake (which is pretty too on the right day) to an 80-degree humid night in Florida. My friend, Natalie, is going to pick me up and then we're going to take a walk on the beach before joining other friends for Kayce's wedding.

I'm 'working' on a final paper right now with Shena here who is diligently working on her paper too. However, we both took a little break and watched a 7-minute film by Alexander Hammid & Maya Deren, The Private Life of a Cat. I doubt the folks sitting behind me at this coffee house appreciated seeing the close ups of a "private" moment of a momma cat.

Banjo-ful

2010-04-20T21:30:00.000-07:00

I've been playing banjo again and my softened fingertips are feeling it. With the recent bout of sunny days this past week, I've been outside for a least a few hours each day and getting browner. Today, I started learning a song that my friend, Nathan, had recommended last month--Yeah Yeah Yeahs' "Soft Shock" and then also had an impromptu hootenanny in Catie's backyard with her neighbors and Shena on musical saw! Music, good friends, and wine and cookies make me smile every time...

Banjoless...

2010-04-14T20:53:00.001-07:00

I haven't played banjo in almost two weeks.

Janet Jackson and Hot Tubbing at Lava

2010-03-26T17:13:00.000-07:00

Our spring break has been a blur. J and I headed to Lava Hot Springs for an overnight stay at the Oregon Trail Lodge. While I'd still vote Mystic as my favorite Utah hot springs so far, Lava definitely had its charms and quirkiness. The lodge included an in-ground pool for guests only with hot mineral water pumped in. Later that night an LDS church group of teens were in the pool. We didn't stay long then and Jordan accidently walked off in someone else's flip flops. I forced J to watch some terrible movie with Janet Jackson in it, but I guess I was determined to kill as many brain cells as possible and watching Janet Jackson trying to act is probably the quickest way to do that.

I've been working on a documentary cross-genre piece about the No Gun Ri massacre of [C]orean civilian refugees during the beginning of the [C]orean War. The declassified documents and texts about the "incident" have been overwhelming and fascinating to read.

Last night some folks gathered at Kate Coles's stellar house at the top of the Aves. She and her hubby are out of town and said Dawn could invite folks over while Rikki and Ben were in town. It was a pretty laid back soiree...sitting on couches, drinking white wine, smack talking. Derek's new book, Inconsequentia (a poetry collaboration with Derek Pollard) just came out and is available on Amazon.

To All the Pisces (Cat Marketing Strategies)

2010-03-13T22:38:00.000-08:00

My 34th birthday snuck up on me this year. Jordan and I went to a Working Dog reading at the Art Barn, followed by drinks with friends at the Twilight Lounge. Friday night we headed to Desert Edge Pub for dinner and then standup comedy at and Wiseguys Comedy Cafe. The headliner was Lachlan Patterson, a comedian from Vancouver. He's a cross between a pretty male model and Paul Bunyon (in terms of stature and the flannel shirt he was wearing).

While one of my favorite things to do back in San Francisco and Bloomington, etc. was to see some good comedy, it'd been a while since I've been to a comedy show. And I'm always intrigued by the demographic of the crowd at these places, which seems to vary a bit from city to city. At this particular venue, the crowd seemed to mostly consist of couples--lots of middle-aged women who might've been former sorority girls, long hair and drinking tall, fruity-looking drinks like long island iced teas or maybe they're were non-alcoholic tall drinks (which then signals they might be LDS). The guys, well, a disproportionate number of them were wearing these very special button-down dress shirts with tight jeans (one might argue this look is reminiscent of trying too hard to be a sexy country singer but without the hat). As Jordan puts it, "Choch to the tenth power." Anyway, what I loved about this comedian is that, at some point, he zeroed in on the two guys up front who were wearing these shirts (one had a swirly, glittery monogram thing on the chest) and gave them these backhanded compliments about their outfits or picked on them relentlessly about their ability to focus on the show. Nothing like a good moment of psuedo-playful antagonism from a comic to "I'm too sexy for my shirt" dressers. Yes, granted, Patterson's no George Carlin (but then again, who can be like my white grandfather) or Eddie Izzard (a serious dresser but in an unbelievably good way), but it was still worth the laughs and modest cover. There were 3-4 opening acts too. Jordan astutely pointed out they were probably LDS (or formerly so). He noticed right away that they'd resort to "freak" instead of "fuck," etc. And their jokes were mostly related to family and marriage. However, one comedian was still admittedly funny...

So according to what I've been told, the famous astrologists Rob Brezney and Susan Miller have both reported that Pisces will supposedly have the best year of their lives this year. For every pisces I've told this too, they've each responded with a funny reply of "Uh-huh. And was this supposed to start from the beginning of the year or from my birthday?" This tells me that perhaps 2010 is not the multi-orgasmic year of the century necessarily, but hey, it's still only March. I guess I can't complain--friends have been super sweet about the almost-mid-life-crisis b-day and the weather's been sunny and bike-friendly.

Bowling, Taegugki, and Carolina Chocolate Drops

2010-03-08T16:21:00.001-08:00

Last week our friends, Kirsten and Nathan, were in town. After Nathan successfully defended his dissertation, folks gathered at Brenda and John's new house for a potluck. Later that night, Nathan played a few tunes on the guitar while I tried to play a few on the banjo. March birthdays abound! Saturday night, we helped Sam celebate his 32nd by bowling at Bonwood where I bowled my usual game of 50 or less. Nothing like enjoying a basket of onion rings at the Trophy Room Lounge (where they sell Rolaids at the bar). And speaking of 50, it was league night, which consisted of mainly Asian women over the age of 50. I joked that I could easily be adopted by any of them, except for the fact that I suck at bowling, whereas some of these women seemed to be (or at least appeared to be) pros, donning their professional-looking bowling wrist braces. After bowling, we headed to Rachel Hanson's to help Matt Nye celebrate his 27th. Lots of dancing and imbibing abounded, but J played foosball and I chatted with folks on the porch (and stole bites of chocolate cake).

Sunday morning, Jordan and I watched this [C]orean film, Taegukgi (Brotherhood of War), which is about two brothers who are unexpectedly forced to serve in the Korean War. In spite of the big-budget blockbuster nature of the film, it was actually incredibly moving. At one point, J and I were both crying (and I've rarely seen him so emotionally moved by a film).

My friend, V, and my banjo teacher both introduced me to the band, the Carolina Chocolate Drops. They describe their project: "Yes, banjos and black string musicians first got here on slave ships, but now this is everyone’s music. It’s OK to mix it up and go where the spirit moves." According to Rolling Stone, "The Carolina Chocolate Drops - banjo player Dom Flemons and fiddlers Rhiannon Giddens and Justin Robinson (they all sing and juggle guitar, Autoharp and percussion)- reignite a vintage outsider music: the early-20th-century jump and lamentation of early black country string bands from North Carolina's piedmont region. The Drops' marvelous new record has a proud and true title, "Genuine Negro Jig" (Nonesuch) and features exuberant treatments of antique party favors like "Cornbread and Butterbeans" and "Papa". Charlie Jackson's 1926 shuffle "Your Baby Ain't Sweet Like Mine." But, the Drops formed in 2005, are modern souls with a wider sense of roots. Giddens, who sang opera in college, delivers the revenge in Blu Cantrell's "Hit 'Em Up Style" with steely, cutting force. And while the Drops play music that first came to American in slave ships, the Celtic air that haunts the plaintive fiddles in "Snowden Jig (Genuine Negro Jig)" is a sly reminder that for most new arrivals here, life started at the bottom."

Leftover Salmon and Toe Clips

2010-02-17T20:06:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, Jordan and I checked out this band, Leftover Salmon, at the Depot. Jordan remembers seeing them back at Michigan State when he was in college. The band has apparently been together for twenty years or so. I guess the worst band name didn't hinder their success! Their website describes them as a band from Boulder, Colorado and the "originators of the 'Polyethnic Cajun Slamgrass' genre. A style of music that blends bluegrass, rock, country, blues, jazz, and Cajun/Zydeco." Even though there quite a few hippie folks with dreads there, I still danced to the music and drooled when listening to the enviable skills of their banjo player.

I've been looking for a good commuter bike that I can take for weekend touring too. And after a few weeks of research, reading reviews, and test riding bikes, I finally chose and bought a one--a 2010 women's specific Specialized Vita. I can't believe the difference in riding a nice bike for a change. Not that I didn't love my scrappy, hot pink mountain bike that I used all over San Francisco (which never got a flat, not once). I also rode it during a 40-mile ride and, boy, did I curse the last ten miles and could really feel the heavy steel frame and fat tires working against me. Now, I have to learn how to use those dang toe clips.

Jordan and I have been trying to meditate once or twice a day--first thing in the morning just for 5-10 minutes and then before we go to bed. It seems so obvious (and not) but it really affects my mood and day. Just taking a few minutes to sit still, breathe, and repeat some mantras I believe in (albeit a little corny), somehow makes me feel more in tune and grounded.

School House Rock Jamboree and Butt Plugs

2010-02-08T16:26:00.000-08:00

This weekend, we had a few friends over for a night of craft-making, tarot card reading, and music playing. After we'd all had enough wine, we each pulled out our respective musical instruments--Catie on djembe, V on keys, Shena on clarinet, Jordan on guitar, and me on banjo. We tried to cobble our way through a couple of Gillian Welch songs but it was, at best, a comical show. We had fun though, plus earlier, we videotaped V's pilot episode of her sex-ed show. Her topic: butt plugs. She explained why they're shaped the way they are, how you too can make a safe lubricant from products you find at home. But she warned never to use oil-based products as they can break down the butt plug and condoms.

Sundance 2010 and hot gay LDS bartenders?

2010-01-30T18:41:00.000-08:00

Last week or so, Charlie (my Asian brotha who isn't Asian but a white boy from Ohio) came to visit us for Sundance. First, we went skiing with a few friends at Alta, followed by the post-ski dip in the rooftop hot tub at the Cliff Spa down the street. Charlie (who'd only skied once before) was a natural and made it down a green run without falling once. As for me, it was my third time and the first time I really understood how skiing was fun. Jordan, Catie, Shena, Lauren, and David went back for one last run and came back with wet, frozen hair and windswept cheeks.

Overall, we saw four Sundance films: The first--The Red Chapel--is about two Danish-[C]orean comedians who "travel to North Korea....On the pretext of being a small Danish theatre group, named The Red Chapel...but unbeknownst to the North Koreans, cultural exchange is not really what they have in mind. Mads Brügger, the journalist; Simon, the straight man; and Jacob, the spastic, use humor to challenge one of the world’s most notorious regimes."

I was happy to learn that the film just recently won the World Cinema Jury Prize. The film was really funny, yes, but also incredibly moving and revealed more about the regime that other films/texts I've read by other folks who've been able to access North [C]orea. One of the most poignant aspects is how Jacob (who is wheel-chair bound) is treated, which is especially disconcerting when you consider how one of the many harsh criticisms about North [C]orea has been about the curious lack of people with physical disabilities.

Next we saw Bhutto, another documentary and one I'd highly highly recommend. "As the first woman to lead an Islamic nation, former Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto's life story unfolds like a tale of Shakespearean dimensions. Educated at Harvard and Oxford, Bhutto evolved from pampered princess to polarizing politician battling tradition and terrorism in the most dangerous country on Earth....Accused of rampant corruption, imprisoned, then exiled abroad, Bhutto was called back in 2007 as her country’s only hope for democracy. When she was struck down by an assassin, her untimely death sent shock waves throughout the world, transforming Bhutto from political messiah to a martyr in the eyes of the common people."

Happythankyoumoreplease was cute romantic comedy that I'd say rent on video (maybe) and then the last film we saw was a drama titled, The Dry Land, which was about a U.S. soldier who returns home from Iraq who suffers from PTSD. "This moving, taut story of redemption and reconstruction extends beyond a post-traumatic-stress-disorder narrative. O’Nan is heartbreaking as he explores the depths of his internal struggle; Ferrera fearlessly tackles her role of a young wife in turmoil. The Dry Land is about one man’s fight within his own terrain—his country, home, and mind—and his journey to rebuild what he’s lost."

What other stuff did we do while Charlie was in town? Went to Jam (voted "best gay club" in Salt Lake and where the bartenders are the nicest in the world and dress ironically in LDS missionary attire with white dress shirts, tie, and name tag that reads "elder"), saw rehearsals by the Utah Symphony (which included the Tenth Symphony by Dmitry Shostakovich, a Russian composer) and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (during which I leaned over to Charlie and whispered, "Now, that's a lot of white folks.").

I'd Love to be a Raisin at Mystic Hot Springs

2010-01-18T21:17:00.000-08:00

This past weekend, Jordan and I headed to our favorite home away from home--Mystic Hot Springs--in Monroe, Utah, which is about a 3 hour drive south. We rented a rustic (emphasis on "rustic") Barney cabin where you could see the ground between the floor slats so the electric heater we brought offered only little consolation from the cold. Nevertheless, we (especially Jordan) love the simpler living where all we worried about was staying warm and lighting our camping stove to make meals. I finally re-strung an old guitar that my brother-in-law gave me a few years ago so that Jordan could finally start learning how to play. He took off running with it. He played that guitar throughout the day and learned more chords in a day than I ever did over a year. If we weren't soaking in the hot springs (which allegedly reach almost 170 degrees), I read, drank wine (okay, so not entirely simple living), and napped while Jordan gained hard-earned guitar-strumming calluses. The hippie owner and his lady friend, Mike and Christina, recognize us now as I've been there four times now (the second time with Jordan and other times with friends and family).

On the drive there and back, we stopped several times because we spotted a raptor hanging out in a tree or on a pole. Here's one of many gorgeous photographs that Jordan captured. He almost drove off the road from eyeing the sky so much!

On another note, I had a horrible dream last night: I was in charge of nuclear bombs for the U.S. which consisted of me staring at a rudimentary computer screen from the 1980s. Jordan was there too and had to step out of the room for a moment. Somehow, I accidentally pushed a button that targeted Africa. Once the nuclear bombs hit Africa (took about a second), my computer screen displayed an Africa almost entirely shaded in a darkening color (to denote affected areas). I was horrified that I'd made such a huge mistake. Immediately, on my screen, I noticed that ships were moving swiftly away from the U.S., which I knew meant that there would be a retaliatory bomb at us and, sure enough, a nuclear bomb hit Market Street in San Francisco! I woke up feeling really tired and disoriented...

Emergency...

2010-01-15T21:32:00.000-08:00

I realized today that I don't react well in emergencies. If a tidal wave should come, I'll be the one staring at dumbly at it (or not) but I won't be running nevertheless. This gene of reacting quickly during emergencies is what my sister does, at least now officially. She's an ER nurse at Shands Hospital in Gainesville, literally saving lives virtually every shift and, sometimes, giving up on a life too. As a girl she knew, even then, how to react during emergencies. When I watched a childhood friend break open his head after jumping off the stairs during a game of hide-and-go-seek; or the night my drunken father threatened to shoot my mother with his gun; or when I watched 9-11, Katrina, the 2008 earthquake in China, monsoons in the Philippines...and now the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti, I'm stunned again, every time. When I saw the large gash spanning my friend's forehead, a wall of blood shadowing down across his face, I ran upstairs, sat on the floor, held my knees to my chest. Granted I was five but my reaction then might not necessarily be that different now.

When we had folks over during a crafts night several months ago, a friend accidentally started a fire after pouring rubber glue onto a lit candle (on her assemblage piece). The fire instantly scorched the side of an easy chair and the flame continued on the floor. Well, someone screamed, everyone froze and, apparently, I laughed during the whole thing (while someone stomped out the flame).

Tonight, I sweated while jogging on a treadmill at our university gym. I watched whatever was on the TV closest to me (CNN at the time). I'd already read about and seen images of victims from the Haiti earthquake. But my delayed response to an emergency kicked in and my stunned state wore off. Oddly, I just remembered that I was, coincidentally, also exercising when 9-11 happened too, but this time, in the gym at Florida State University where I got my undergrad degree. A gaggle of students crowded in front of a large-screened TV and I made my way through them to see what so captivating. I watched the news clips of the planes flying into World Trade Centers towers. Everyone was silent. I didn't understand what I was seeing at the time. I didn't process what I was on the screen. I plugged my earphones in my ears and headed toward the treadmills. Once I arrived back home though, I felt as if I finally re-entered the same dimension in which this atrocity occurred and began to panic, calling friends in New York over and over again, sitting with my roommates in front of our TV, none of us blinking. At the gym tonight, I felt that panic again, and even more so, I felt my eyes get teary. God, I hope no one noticed--who is this crazy woman crying on the treadmill? I kept trying instead to watch basketball on the other TV but couldn't. I felt overwhelmed and inadequately sorrowful--for those who've lost family and friends, for those helping the victims, the orphans.

The comic strip above was created by Coco Wang and is part of a series about the victims' experiences from the 2008 earthquake in China's Sichuan Province.

Elixir of 2010

2010-01-10T13:32:00.000-08:00

2010's beginning off a twinkly note already. I found out last week that Elixir Press (based out of Denver) wants to publish my poetry manuscript...my first book (finally)! I was so stunned and happy when the editor, Dana Curtis, told me the news over the phone, that all I could say over and over again was "Thank you!" while I tried to hide the fact that I was crying I was so thrilled (geesh). This manuscript, tentatively titled Spit, was been shopped around for over two years now I think and I was getting bummed and impatient, wondering if it was ever going to get published. But hence is the masochism for poets. Poetry doesn't get the props or readership it deserves in this country, and then on top of that, poets have to fight hard to get published, often competing for the chance...sigh. As my friend, Cynie, advised me (her first book was published by New Issues), I'm trying to enjoy the moment, to realize that it's special and having one's first book taken only happens once.

I went to the Trolley Square Mall a few days ago to buy tickets to see several films this month during the Sundance festival. My friend, Charlie, who lives in Cincinnati, will be here during that time and we're psyched to go skiing and film-watching.

Snow-shoeing in 2009

2010-01-03T12:42:00.000-08:00

After spending a week with my family, I flew to Michigan and met Jordan there on Christmas Eve. Along with his twin brother, Nick, the three of us visited many of their relatives in various towns. We were offered so much food at every stop that I think we each ate the equivalent of a bag of mashed potatoes, pounds of chocolate, and lots of wine. Each of us have gained what we call our "winter weight," thanks to our holiday gluttony.

My top three favorite moments during our Michigan trip: 3) Listening to the Jordan's uncles tell embarrassing stories about each other and later after dinner when his uncle Jeff and his wife Patty played bluegrass music on guitar and upright bass. 2) Listening to Jordan and Nick's banter during the car rides, visits (see the pic of the brothers rock 'n rolling with their cousin's son Jake), and Redwing hockey game on New Year's Eve night, and 1) My favorite part of our Michigan trip was spending the last few days with the McCormack brothers and their mom at the family's lakeside cottage in Irons, MI. It was my first time being there during the winter. I loved the serenity of the place. The cottage had been renovated to include an improved bathroom, and more open kitchen. The lake was completely snow-covered with one or two tracks dotting across its face. I went snow-shoeing for the first time and we saw deer tracks and looked for raptors. Inside the cottage, we drank wine, ate peppermint bark, read, and played games: Scrabble, Boggle, checkers.

We've been home a few days now, getting used to the post-holidays. Went searching for owls yesterday at the SL cemetery in our neighborhood, but no luck this time.Last night, Jordan and I had dinner at Halina's place with her, Chad, and our old friends and across-the-hall neighbors Nathan and Kirsten who were in town visiting family and friends for the holidays. It was so great to see them again, although too short. Kirsten teared up because she missed our commune, which of course, started my tears too. I really miss them (and Ely and Christine). Good company and Halina's cooking...it doesn't get better. The dinner--brie covered in cranberries, cashews, and apples; yummy salad; and mediterranean stew with polenta, chick peas and chicken, and blueberry cobbler (blueberries provided by my mom).

Good news is that my sister and my brother-in-law may be coming to visit in March! I already dreamt that we went snowboarding together...

BBQ, Ghosts, and Monumental-Sized Mr. Miyagi (Christmas 2009)

2009-12-24T06:47:00.000-08:00

Well this trip home was short but sweet: family meals of mom's yummy [C]orean meals or carryout BBQ (nothing like BBQ or soul food in the south), wrestling with family pets, and Linda and I spent much of the time doing house-related projects: painting, shopping at IKEA, assembling new furniture for her livingroom, etc. She and Bobby ordered an obscenely large LCD TV (55" wide). I have to admit, for someone who doesn't have a TV and watches movies on her teeny laptop, watching anything on such a large screen felt mind-numbingly luxurious over the holiday break. I watched so many episodes of Paranormal State (about the reported cases of paranormal activity researched by Penn State's Paranormal Research Society), which brings back my childhood days of obsessively reading books about ghosts, ESP, Loch Ness, Big Foot, UFOs, etc. until I inevitably couldn't go to sleep for fear of the dark and my dreams. Even though I'm still the biggest scaredy cat (generally not a fan of horror films, visiting haunted houses for Halloween, or roller coasters), I loved learning about unexplained phenomena and I guess that part of me still exists.

Speaking of other embarrassing things I've watched, true confessions: I re-watched Karate Kid II. At first, I was watching it for a good laugh, to remember the horribly corny soundtrack (featuring Peter Cetera's theme song, "Glory of Love"), to balk at the movie's horrible renderings of Mr. Miyagi (a bad ass, by the way)--a Japanese American guy who is stereotypically stoic, a man of few words, but, of course, a martial arts guru. Flute music plays throughout the movie (just in case you didn't pick up the orientalist perspective yet), especially during the scenes in which Daniel and Mr. Miyagi are in Japan. The 'authentic' representation of Italian Americans via Ralph Macchio is, well, about as bad at the ones about Asian American. But here I am laughing but, shortly after the scene in which Mr. Miyagi's father dies, Mr. Miyagi (played by Pat Morita) and Daniel sit upon these rocks overlooking the ocean [insert flute music]. Daniel tries to comfort Mr. Miyagi and tells him that, when his own father died, he felt that at first he'd failed his father, but then later he realized that he'd actually done something great for his father which was to have been there when his father died (as Mr. Miyagi had done too). Daniel puts his arms around Mr. Miyagi's shoulders and the stoic Asian martial arts guru begins to tear up [flute music moves to minor scale]. And through osmosis, if you can believe it, I began to get teary-eyed too. So terrible! My inner sap is apparently still there too... geesh.

I've relented to my inner catlady. My friend, Halina, recently sent this to Cat Video and I just cracked up so much before I even pressed play.

I'm now at the Jacksonville airport, about to head to Michigan! It's shorts-and-tee-shirt weather here, but in a few hours, I'll be knee deep in snow!

Gabfest Over Poached eggs

2009-12-20T13:28:00.000-08:00

Today, I drove from Linda and Bobby's place in Newberry to Jacksonville to meet Natalie and Christie for brunch. I first got the official tour of Natalie's adorable house, filled with 1930's charm, a backyard, and back house which she's converted to a small movie theatre (complete with deco theater seats)! Also, Natalie's two cute cats just made the place feel the best B&B. Then we headed over to Uptown Market, a sunny diner with big windows, where we enjoyed brunch together and caught up on each other's lives. It's amazing how much you can get caught up with old friends and over eggs--our love lives, family, work, lows and highs, pets, etc. Definitely good times and a reminder of how quickly time moves...

We'd all originally met back in the day (could it have been ten years ago???) while studying abroad in FSU's London program. What a tremendously life-changing semester. Christie met Colin, her future (and present) hubby. Natalie scoured all the events and museums of London. For me, London was unbelievably rich too--where I saw performances by the Count Basie Orchestra at the legendary Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club, Max Roach, Gil Scott Heron, LSO, and many many dance performances (my favorite was one choreographed by Bill T. Jones) and theatre performances.

Well, if luck allows, Christie, Natalie and I are hoping to take a trip together next summer to revisit our old haunts in London! I'm keeping my fingers crossed...

Not-so-anonymous donor...

2009-12-18T18:01:00.000-08:00

I'm back in Florida! Today, Linda and I browsed at a few furniture stores for an entertainment center that might be able to feature their forthcoming 52' flat screen tv...technology, geesh.

Afterwards we ordered carryout Italian. As I waited inside the restaurant to pick up our orders, a guy in front of me in line handed the cashier woman an extra twenty dollar bill and said he wanted to pay for the order of the person behind him (me at the time), that he wanted to start the Christmas spirit early. I thought I must've misheard him, but sure enough, when I reached the counter, the employees at the cash register said our order was covered by this guy. So before the guy walked out, I shout to get his attention and thanked him before he left and he waved back. Aw, so nice and unexpected. My eggplant parmesan tasted so good in light of this surprising act of kindness from this stranger...

Julia's Big Times at GilGal Gardens

2009-12-14T19:26:00.000-08:00

Last night we had a small gathering in honor of Shena's birthday. Shena played her musical saw, Jordan his Kazakh dombra, me the banjo. I showed everyone a box of clothing my mom mailed me, which was filled with various fashion atrocities that I refuse to wear--shirts that could pass for curtains, jackets with big gold (unironic) buttons, etc. I couldn't even give any of it away to my friends! At the end of the night, Bowie one-upped everyone by jumping--Spiderman style--onto V's head and shoulders!

Today Julia and I checked out Gilgal Sculpture Garden (check out the incredible interactive tour on their website complete with bad rock n' roll music), which was founded by Thomas Battersby Child, Jr. in the mid-twentieth century and is apparently the "only identified 'visionary art environment' in Utah." The incredibly quirky sculptures included LDS founder, Joseph Smith's head on a sphinx, Thomas Child's self-portrait of him donning brick-patterned pants that reached his chest, and lots of biblical verses engraved in stone.

Then we browsed cute wares at this cute antiques shop called Emilie Jayne, and sipped tea at The Coffee Garden.

The 3 Ss--Ski, Spa, and Sumptiousness

2009-12-13T14:22:00.000-08:00

My friend, Julia, is in town for the weekend. Yesterday, we (Julia, Jordan, Catie, and I) headed to Alta Resort to take advantage of their "free after 3pm" deal. We rented equipment at the Alta Ski Shop for only $13 (half day/after 3 pm rate). J and Julia headed to the more advanced slopes, while Catie and I headed to the more beginning ones. I nervously hobbled to the ski lifts and because I didn't want to lose face, I told Catie I'd get onto the lifts. We hovered over pines, probably 30 feet in the air or so. The landscape was spectacular. Catie kept saying, "Can you believe that we live here?" And she's right. The snow and its accompanying silence represented the quintessential aspects of Utah's serenity and beauty. For the next two hours, Catie was the patient ski instructor (she herself hadn't been skiing in years) who showed me how to properly turn and regain control. I noticed that the downhill slopes didn't look like what I'd imagined a bunny hill to be and, in fact, we realized later that we indeed weren't on a bunny hill, but on a relatively easy run (but not as easy as a bunny hill). With the first hill, I fell a few times, but by the third one, I managed to ski down without falling zig-zagged down the slope. It was so much fun!

Afterwards, we headed down the street to Snowbird's Cliff Lodge Spa, where for $10 (locals or $20 otherwise), we accessed the rooftop hot tub and heated swimming pool, eucalyptus-scented wet sauna, and dry sauna. We were all so happy! During our second trip to the hot tub, under the night sky with snow falling upon our shoulders, we sat in the hot tub with jetted streams. Then, at one point, Julia and Jordan ran over and spread-eagled across a snow-covered table (their creative version of a "cold plunge") and ran back into the hot water with us. Hilarious.

And top off the great day, we had dinner with V at Sewadee. Their ginger duck with candied yams and panang curry were incredibly good.

Post-Thanksgiving Gluttony

2009-12-09T20:15:00.001-08:00

I've been bad about posting, but my New Year's resolution will be to get back to semi-daily posts. Here are a couple pics from our Thanksgiving dinner--about 20 or folks (mostly friends from my program) came over and showed off their culinary skills. Ces and Cai, who had been visiting that week, were such good sports about being bombarded by so many new faces.

A funny moment for me was listening to Rebecca (turkey-roasting extraordinaire), Robert, and Tim thoughtfully debate and discuss how to cut the turkey properly. It reminded me of a deconstructionist debate by English majors, but it was well worth the wait...

Halloween of White Flammable Batting (or i-'Lamb'-ic Pentameter)

2009-11-01T20:43:00.001-08:00

Last night Cami threw a party for the ghoulish-minded. J and I decided on a few potential costume ideas before heading out for materials. My shortlist: Tornado, Kim Jong-Il, Fortune Cookie. J's shortlist: Sheep, Chuck Norris, George Michael, Ron Burgundy. We drove to a DI (Deseret Industry thrift store) and J immediately found a perfect shirt for me to wear as Kim Jong-Il and I found a stuffed sheep doll and other materials for J's future sheep costume. So it was decided. We spent the next two hours or so making J's sheep costume. I cut the sheep doll apart, used the ears and sewed together a sheep cap. The doll's tail glued onto the white sweatpants. The doll's legs were resourcefully reimagined as teets (which looked suspiciously like big penises instead)....voila! Sheep Jordan!

For my costume, I drew a North [C]orean flag to glue onto my shirt, added some pins that J had from Mongolia--I figured no one would be that discerning enough to tell that they had little to do with Kim Jong-Il or North [C]orea for that matter. Then I hairsprayed my hair into a crisp froth. Voila! Dictator Esther!

For the most part, the party was much fun--dancing, goofy photo-booth picture taking, talking with others while we're in character. There was this uninvited-drunk-methhead-neighbor guy whose hands gravitated to squeezing people's arses, including mine. When I realized what was happening, I (in true Kim Jong-Il fashion) performatively and aggressively told the guy to back off, pushing a finger in his face. He backed off only to return later and try his smarminess on another friend. Before doing so, I again warned him (this time using some explicatives), getting in his face, and this time he scuttled backwards and eventually resigned to the couch, in a drunken haze. Well, a little later, Cami (when she heard about him) threw Mr. Methhead out. Ah, I'd like to think that Judith Butler might've loved this moment of someone 'performing' as Kim Jong-Il and going beserk on this fiend!

Pumpkins and Don Henley

2009-10-26T18:24:00.000-07:00

Bad, Esther for lagging on posts...

A few nights ago, J and I carved our first pumpkins together. It's sad but we really got into it. I remember looking over at Jordan and saying something, but he was so in the "zone" that, eventually, all you could hear were the slicing sounds of our knives in their respective carving modes and nothing else. Here are the results of our efforts (in various lighting).

In Lit. Theory today, we discussed Kant's take on the sublime. Surfing--or really anything that involves watching nature with both awe and fear is perhaps quintessentially sublime. I never made it to the annual Mavericks Surf Contest in Half Moon Bay (just 30 minutes or so south of San Francisco) while J and I lived in SF, but man, I really want to watch those surfers against the 50-foot tall waves. That's utter sublime for me...

I've been on a kick of learning to play cover songs on the banjo. This week: Cyndy Lauper's "Drive," Magnetic Fields' "Chicken
with its Head Cut Off," Johnny Cash's "13," and Neko Case's "I'll Be Around." I'd like to cover some great heavy metal songs or something similar on banjo, but haven't found the right ones yet (inspired by the AC/DC cover by Kozelek that Nathan burned a while back). I did recently have a request to learn "Crazy" by SEAL and Don Henley's "End of the Innocence"...not exactly heavy metal but definitely worth pursuing.

Euripedes Early in the Morning

2009-09-20T20:42:00.001-07:00

This weekend we saw a performance of Euripedes' tragedy, Bakkhai, at Red Butte Gardens. Since Greek tragedies were typically performed in the morning and sometimes lasted until evening, this performance too was performed in the morning at 8:30 am on Saturday and on Red Butte's ampitheatre. This performance, an adaptation that included the chorus dressed up in modern-day gothic style with black garter belts, leather corsets, chains, etc. At one point, Dionysus (who is seemingly played by a male actor) klsses each member in the chorus, including the men, which caused a few folks in the audience to cringe and turn away. I got a kick out of this and wondered who in the audience might be LDS and super conservative, and didn't know about the sexually-charged atmosphere of the play. Interestingly enough, Euripedes' Dionysus is portrayed as a gender-ambiguous stranger in Thebes who is also of Asian descent (Asians being associated with the barbaric).

Along the Gallatin River

2009-09-09T13:17:00.001-07:00

For Jordan's birthday, we camped this past weekend beside the Gallatin River. off of Hwy 191, in Montana. After we'd read in our camping chairs, which were parked overlooking the river, we noticed a bald eagle, which swooped past us. Then it circled back around and perched itself on a tree limb about 20 feet in front of us, on the other side of the river. It hopped down into the water, submerging its claws, and pulled out a trout, which it tore apart on the rocks. We couldn't believe our luck to have this bald eagle hanging out so closely. Another woman who was fishing in the water at the time said it was the most amazing thing she has ever seen in her life. For me, it was as if a Discovery Channel show had materialized three-dimensionally in front of us. Jordan took so many photos, one of which I'm including here. After two nights of camping, we headed to Bozeman, MT (about 30 minutes north) to visit Matt, one of Jordan's older brothers. He and his wife are now the parents of 4 kids, the newest addition being their fraternal twin girls, Grace and Lila. Along Hwy 191 during a previous visit, Jordan had seen a black bear as well as two white goats on the mountainside. It's quickly becoming his favorite stretch of highway...

Poet Says He Was Arrested For 'Driving While Brown'

2009-08-25T08:29:00.000-07:00

More bullshit for brown folks:

Ravi Shankar,a 6'2", 200 lb. Indian guy was arrested by cops in Chelsea recently, apparently because he matched the profile of someone--a 5' 10", 140-pound white male--that they were looking for. Shankar's also an associate professor of English and poet-in-residence at Central Connecticut State University and editor of Drunkenboat , an online journal which features art and literary works. Sadly, I'm sure he has something to write about now. You can read more on Courant or NPR.

The Next Wave of Friends

2009-08-15T18:34:00.000-07:00

I recently found out that more friends will be visiting soon: first, Ces and Cai may revisit us in a month or so. Then my sis, bro-in-law and mom are coming out in October. Then my friend, Charlie--aka my white brotha--will be here to check out Sundance with me in January.

A journal I'd heard of but didn't know how perty it was until now: 1913

I'm listening to KRCL radio station right now and I just heard a song, "Chemirocha" from the album Love is Love from Mississippi Records. The artist is unknown. It's not often I feel compelled to search feverishly for a song or an album but I do now. I've been trying to hunt for it--online, through independent music stores, but no luck yet. I'm emailing the great Aquarius Records in San Francisco to see if they can get a hold of it.

p.s. The old banjo lick: "I Will Survive"--check out the current one (love seeing an all-women orchestra of banjos!)

So You Have a Penis, and...

2009-08-07T13:39:00.001-07:00

Met with a small business development advisor today and, while he was reasonably nice, he gave me the ole paternaisticl attitude of "let me tell you how it is, lil' naive darlin," which is so frustrating and so old. I get so tired of men in who underestimate women--gag! Thankfully, there's a women's business institute I will go to.

On a better note, Bowie just cracks me up. What I thought would be a funny punishment for Bowie crawling constantly into my laptop bag, turned out to be another haven for her. She hung like a little monkey inside our grocery tote bag for almost half an hour, blinking sleepily, and staring at me.

Reading Charles Olson's Maximus Poems and trying to figure out how the hell to teach this thick sandwich of poems in the fall.

Wekiwa and Farewells

2009-07-26T20:18:00.001-07:00

Linda and I had hoped to spend some "quality time" with our parents. But unfortunately, our parents wanted that quality time to include a few of their buddies. They invited three of their church friends to stay with us in St. Augustine. But with only two hotel rooms and one bed each, Linda and I, after browsing the cute shops in downtown, decided to head back to her house in Newberry.

So for another shot at some quality time with our parents, I suggested an overnight trip. Linda and I both stressed that no extra church friends were allowed, that this was solely a trip for our family. We drove to Wekiwa State Park in Apopka, Florida and canoed for a couple of hours. Linda and dad in one canoe, me and mom in another. We spotted turtles, herons of some sort, and fish. Near the end of our canoe trip, my mom kept insisting that she wanted a plant clipping near the river's shore. I eventually relented and. We rowed closer and another good four strokes or so, we'd reach the shore. But then something moved in the water. Like a wide basalt stone bobbing to the water's surface, the jagged head and the tail and then the body of a 6-8 foot alligator surfaced! I rowed so fast in the opposite direction. I immediately remembered that horrible scene in the film, Adaptation, when a character gets rolled by an alligator in the swamps of Florida. My mom, on the otherhand, was unreasonably clam and still wanted the plant clipping!

Well, the past Friday, Jordan and I hosted a farewell party for Ely, Christine, Nathan, and Kirsten. I made a white chocolate and apricot cake, which was yummy, but too rich even for my big sweet tooth. It's sad not to have them as our neighbors across the hall, or to see their black dog, Franklin, staring out the window.

My Mother the Drug Dealer

2009-07-20T15:25:00.000-07:00

So I had always wondered why strangers in my hometown often complimented my mother again and again about the bugle flowers she grew in the front yard. The plants, with their signature drooping, bugle-shaped flowers grow along the fence that faces the street in front of my parents' house. I remember a while back someone telling me that folks make drugs out of those very bugle flowers and I wondered if might explain all the attention my mother has received about those bugles, people sometimes begging if they could take a clipping or asking what her secret is for getting the blooms to grow to such bountiful sizes.

Well tonight I read that the bugle flower (or "Brugmansia") are indeed very poisonous, that people have been known to ingest them to get high! Currently, there are no laws in Florida banning the bugle flowers (although Tennessee and Louisiana have laws banning the hallucinogenic plants), which would've made my mother a criminal, but apparently, according to ever-reliable Wikipedia, "All parts of Brugmansia plants contain dangerous levels of poison and may be fatal if ingested by humans or animals, including livestock and pets. Contact with the eyes can cause pupil diliation (mydriasis) or unequal pupil size (anisocoria)." Yikes. While Linda and I were kids, I remember my mother's worst fears (which were often mentioned in her prayers) included her daughters 1) becoming pregnant teens and/or 2) being druggies. It's too ironic that she could've been the drug dealer all along, although she doesn't know it (and still doesn't know it).

Tomorrow, I'll advise not to do anything crazy with them, like go sprinkle bits of petal on a salad or something...geesh.

Droopy Pajamas, anyone?

2009-07-18T18:01:00.000-07:00

Last night I tried on these pair of pajamas I've had for several years. I was surprised to find that the pajamas would no longer fit. I kept trying to pull them up over my thighs, but found that the waistband was threatening to rip apart. I wondered if I'd gained a lot of weight but was determined to get the pajamas I'd worn just a few days ago back on. When I finally managed to squeeze into them again, I looked more closely and realized that someone had crudely sewn the sides of the pajamas' waistband, so that it was probably a couple of inches narrower! I immediately knew my mother had something to do with this. I called her today and she confirmed that, yes, she had altered my pajamas because they looked as if they were too big for me. So she--a 4' 9" Asian women whose belts I can't even get around my waist--tried on MY pajamas and altered them according to HER measurements, believing that we would be comparable sizes. Did she tell me in advance about her goodwill to save me from the droopy pajama syndrome? Nope. Sigh. I love her, but my mother kills me.

Banjo playing at Kundiman below (from a new friend, Hyejung):

"Kundiman is for Lovers"

2009-07-13T08:36:00.000-07:00

I just returned from participating in the Kundiman writers' retreat for Asian American writers, which is, in part, modeled after--or at least inspired by--Cave Canem's retreat for African American writers. I didn't know what to expect and was a bit hesitant in wondering what the complicated notion of "Asian American" means to me, what the other fellows would be like, if there would be expectations for us to include certain "Asian" themes or topics in our work, etc. But the chance to work with Myung MI Kim was worth the risk and so I went.

My worries were dispelled very quickly. First off, the fellows were so diverse, from all over the U.S., with multidisciplinary backgrounds including performance, dance, film, activist work, etc. Also there were many biracial and queer fellows. It's hard to articulate about an experience that changes you so profoundly, but I can only say that even the biggest skeptics of us admitted, during the closing circle the last night, that they each of us would definitely return, that the community we've been a part of was incredible. As one fellow, Gein Wong, described, there's a level of understanding among us that is unspoken, just understood and felt.

I hadn't realized just how much I needed this community, that such a retreat has less to do with whether or not one's work is (at least overtly) about particular things or adheres to certain aesthetic values, or whether or not one even comfortably identifies themselves as Asian American (many of us weren't sure what that meant), but more so about understanding that that kind of questioning is something we're all experiencing as artists of color in the U.S. Kundiman has been a phenomenal experience in reaffirming myself as a writer. I honestly don't think I've laughed (and cried) so much within a four-day period.

There were workshops with each of the three faculty members (Myung Mi Kim, Rick Barot, Staceyann Chin). During the nightly salon readings, I had sometimes read a poem that I'd read before at other places, however, at Kundiman, some kind of raw artmaking nerve was re-opened and so it wasn't uncommon for me, as well as for other others, to become unexpectedly wistful or choked up. At nights after our workshops, we'd usually let loose--and yes, one night singing bad karaoke, as well as dancing, singing+playing instruments, and staying up because of our late-night conversations.

I haggled Myung Mi Kim to consider singing karaoke, which she deflected at first. But soon enough, we convinced her to try. She ended up singing Tina Turner's "What's Love Got to Do with It," which was one of the highlights of my time at Kundiman!

I have to say that Myung Mi Kim is so fantastico. I knew I'd admired her already as a writer but now I realize how much accomplished she is as a teacher! The workshop was only 2-3 hours long, but I felt we'd accomplished as much as semester's worth of workshopping. She'd encouraged a workshopl that steered away from the traditional, reductive diagnostic model, but one that's more about figuring out what each of us were working through as writers and how those questions and struggles are applicable to the rest of us. She's an incredible reader and recommender of texts too.

As Susan Howe said about Myung Mi Kim, she really does have an aura as a teacher. Her new book, Penury, has just been released, which Michael Davidson describes as "a moving and disturbing testimony to losses incurred in a time of global war. Penury is a book of mourning that challenges the reader to listen, to imagine, to see in a world plastered with signs of excess and expenditure. Myung Mi Kim pares away language to its grammatical and phonemic core to create new rituals of assent and affect where an almost unimaginable promise of happiness surfaces. Penury [It] is a brilliant accomplishment."

Who's Daddy's Girl?

2009-07-09T16:25:00.000-07:00

I caught Jordan and Bowie napping the other day and couldn't figure out who was cuter. Bowie heard me scrambling for the camera and woke up briefly, but then quickly went back to dreamland...adorable. Two of the loves of my life...

Mr. Ando and the Plums

2009-07-06T09:41:00.000-07:00

This weekend, spent time with friends. First at Lindsey Garden park where we sat on top of hill which overlooked much of the city. From there we were able to watch the 4th of July fireworks without having to deal with crowds. And last night, Christine and Ely hosted a potluck dinner where lots of yummy summer foods abounded: summer pasta with olives, pesto, peppers; watermelon salad with feta and onion; spring rolls; spinach salad. I tried making a plum shortcake and whipped cream, which I hadn't made since last year some time when we had folks over at our San Francisco place, which had a plum tree in the backyard. Went home with a worsening earache and dizzy spells, which have been happening for the last day or so, but seems better this morning.

My friend, Courtney, sent me this bit of Japanese absurdity, "Mr. Ando of the Woods."

My father loves red sequins?

2009-07-04T11:01:00.000-07:00

In last night's summer dream I attended a play and ran into folks from high school with whom I debated about whether or not high school was the best time of one's life (I voted no as you can imagine). During the intermission, I ran to a grocery store to buy two grapefruits to eat for breakfast. I also frantically drove to this organization, Women's Initiative (in the Bay Area) in order to try getting a discount on gas. I also caught a glimpse of one of the Redwings hockey players, Datsuk, but he looked really Latino (instead of his usual pale Russian self), and held a bottle of some liquor and smoked. When I sat back down to watch the play, the audience rose to their feet and began to clap. I looked toward the aisle and saw a wedding entourage making their way toward the stage, including my sister as the bride and my father wearing a red sequined cowboy hat? I was mortified that I'd forgotten Linda's wedding and ran home to find a proper dress to wear and of course couldn't find any.

For the 4th of July, I'm not sure whether or not I want to venture outside and fight all the traffic of picnicking families in SUVs. But it's raining right now and the Bronte Sister cats have been lovey dovey. Probably will stay inside and play some banjo...

I'm Wyoming in the Tetons, what're you doing?

2009-07-02T21:22:00.000-07:00

For our third anniversary, Jordan and I headed to Grand Teton National Park for a 5-day camping trip. The drive there and back included lots of birding stops and photo opps as Jordan was happily overwhelmed by the number of ospreys we spotted, along with eagles, swainson hawks, merlins, etc.. In Swan Valley, I enjoyed a scoop of square-scoop ice cream (moose tracks flavor!) and I deduced that ice cream tastes just as good, regardless of whether it's round or square shaped.
We camped first at Colter Bay, next Signal Mountain, and then stayed the last two nights at Jenny Lake (site #25 is my fave). We spotted sunbathing bison and babe, mule deer, antelope, chipmunks, a mama moose with calf, yellow-bellied marmots, butterflies, and raptors. No bear this time although a black bear was spotted in our campsite early one morning. As for plantlife and trees, Jordan pointed out Douglas Firs, quaking aspens, Arrowleaf Balsamroot (which smell like chocolate), and mint, to name a few.

On the drive up to Signal Mountain summit, we noticed a few of the cars ahead of us were stopped in the middle of the road, drivers and passengers gawking from their windows. What I saw next reminded me of one of the outlandish-looking birds of paradise from the documentary series, Planet Earth, but more ominous looking, as if several bird parts decided to mesh together and badly. It waddled down the road and passed our car in defiant strut. The feathered creature consisted of fuzzy legs, bright orange "eye" markings on its head (bright as cicada's eyes). Its torso reminded me of a pigeon, its neck surrounded by a stark white collar of feathers, and a fanned tail. Later that night during a ranger talk about seasons in the Tetons, we learned that the creature we saw was a Dusky Grouse and that they're apparently pretty aggressive and bold.
Twice we sat lakeside (first Jackson, then Jenny) to read, watch for birds, or play banjo. We also swam in both lakes or I should say, Jordan swam and I waded and once leapt into Jenny Lake, which was biting and no warmer than forty degrees.

On our 4th night, I witnessed the most dramatic storm of my life. The clouds might as well have been the devil stirring up the sky with his own hand. I drove the car to a few lookout points while Jordan aimed his camera for the anchorless clouds as they approached us. And after about half an hour of trying, he also captured his first lightning photo.

During our last day, we followed a pretty moderate 8-10 mile hike around Jenny Lake, first heading to Hidden Falls where we enjoyed a beer and snacks, and then up to Inspiration Point (elevation 7200 ft). Then we hiked back down and to the north end of the Jenny Lake, to String Lake and back to our campsite. Although the day had been sunny (mid-70s), near the end of the hike, Jordan noticed that the clouds were storm-threatening. And sure enough, during the last mile or two, the storm came. A hailstorm! We were hit by gumball-sized hail that smacked against our heads and thighs. I couldn't help but laugh after hearing Jordan shout every time he was hit. After our hike, we treated ourselves to a dinner away from camp at the Peaks Restaurant in Signal Mountain Lodge. The sun returned as we devoured mushroom burgers and fries (and later a blackberry pie we ordered to go).

p.s. On the drive back, Jordan noted how Wyoming is the only state that's a verb. So we though of corny Wyoming slogans (hence the blog title).

NHL Dreams deferred & Calling "Fierce" Tyra Banks

2009-06-23T15:23:00.001-07:00

The bizarro summer dreams keep on coming:

Two nights ago I dreamt I was playing hockey. I remember the weight of the pads, staring through the cage of the helmet, the chill of the rink. There were no distinguishable teams, just a a free for all, and no goalie. But I stood still on my skates and waited for someone to pass the puck to me. I made several lousy shots until finally I had another chance, shot the puck straight toward the (empty) goal and then it hit the goal post and deflected away from the net. As you can imagine, Jordan (my goalie boyfriend) loved that I had this dream and was more concerned about whether or not I made the shot than anything else.

Last night I dreamt that an ex-boyfriend was being an ass to me, drunk and refusing to drive me home. I had no choice but to hang out with him and his housemates (21-year olds drinking as if at a frat party). I kept trying to call my best friend and roommate, the model Tyra Banks, because I knew she'd be worried about me but I couldn't find her number. The next day, she was pissed at me for not calling. Yikes. As you can see from above, Tyra Banks is one scary lady when angry.

This morning, hung out with Christine and Halina at Two Creeks (the best coffee house on the planet, well, at least in our neighborhood). Trying to revise and re-order the ole manuscript lately. It's been usurping much of my time this week. In a little bit, I'm going to babysit one of my professor's grandkids, Kira (5) and Hannah (2). The other day while playing in Liberty Park, Kira said (in a disappointed tone): "I didn't get to pet any dogs, cats, or snakes today" as if this is part of her daily regimen. Not sure if I want to pet any snakes, but I'm hoping to take them to Red Butte Gardens today where, on a hot day, resident rattlesnakes come out to sun themselves, though I don't think they'd be friendly to petting hands.

Indigent defense, Blackberries, & Pro Ice Cream

2009-06-17T11:56:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been helping ACLU of Utah and started writing their newsletters--it's been cool to learn more about the issues that they're dealing with, what litigation they're pursuing and how they're protecting our civil liberties. I'm especially interested in their indigent defense reform project. Some stuff about it from the newsletter: "Utah is one of only two states that provide no state funding for indigent defense services at the trial or appellate level and ranks 48th out of 50 states in per-capita spending on indigent defense. The ACLU of Utah believes that a complete overhaul of this system is long overdue; we see an opportunity to make a huge impact on hundreds of people who are currently not able to realize their right to competent counsel. We have begun the initial phrases of our project: collecting data about public defender programs in Utah counties and narrowing our focus to San Juan, Washington and Weber Counties; conducting interviews and court observations; recruiting partnerships with attorneys and law students; and building an effective communications campaign for building public support."

I'll probably go to their anti-torture rally on Thursday too. Not to make light of the rally's focus at all, but I think a comedian like George Carlin would have to make a snarky comment about the irony here--is anyone really for torture? But sadly, yes, some folks actually are proponents for stupid shit. I guess it's like "a pro ice cream rally"--I mean, it's sad to need something like that when it should be obvious where the logic should lie. It's frustrating that we need to remind ourselves about human decency, that torture might not be a good idea (national security, whatev).

Yesterday, we planted two tomato starter plants and a blackberry bushling, which the farmers' market vendor said probably won't fruit for at least a year. I hope the little guy takes. We also used some worm castings from our compost bin to help the starters. It's funny to think that shit helps you to grow food. My friend, Katie, her sis and her cat came through for a night after driving from Oakland. Katie's moving back home to Minneapolis for the summer and then traveling around the world for about a year! She's planning to do work service projects wherever she goes and especially wants to visit Tanzania and travel through Africa and by road to Europe!

Thanks to greatstufftv.com, we watched another Big Love episode from season 1 called "The Ceremony"--I won't give it away, but it's getting SO good!

p.s. I'm sad to say that the survey I posted a while back asking who you'd rather sleep with resulted in Chris Cornell (from Soundgarden) winning out over Cornel West (6 to 3). Blah.

Bountiful Produce, Peaks, and African Music

2009-06-11T19:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, we headed to the first farmers' market of the season. Two vendors (yes, two of them) sold what are called "marshmallow shooters"--basically a rudimentary gunlike toy fashioned out of pvc-pipes. You then place a small marshmallow inside the "barrel" and then blow into the shooter to hit your target (unlike this image, the ones at the market were white and not green).
Beforehand, I devoured an apple strudel from Carlucci's Bakery with Lauren and David. Then samosas for $3/each at the farmers' market with Shira. Dogs and acoustic instrument-playing musicians abounded.

The storms have visited us the past two weeks or so and the clouds, like chameleons, change in appearance and shape, from wispy threads to towering cumulo-nimbus ones introduced by dramatic lightning shows. We even had a short hail storm too. After the farmers' market Jordan took us on a drive to Farmington Canyon in Bountiful, which is about a 15-20 minute drive north of Salt Lake. The dirt road winded up up up toward Bountfiul Peak (not for those with a fear or heights or steep cliff edges--I felt a little vertigo myself). But the view was spectacular. You could see the ghostly face of the Great Salt Lake in the distance and at the very top of the peak, we froze our arses off and tromped through the snow.

Checked on our garden today and found a few sprouts poking through the earth, but no hearty veggie plants yet. Through Jordan's Red Butte connections, we were able to get complimentary tickets to see a concert at Red Butte Gardens featuring the renowned banjo player, Bela Fleck, with Toumani Diabate who plays the kora, a traditional West African instrument made of a large gourd and played kind of like a harp with only the index fingers and thumbs. It creates such a full-bodied sound and Diabete demonstrated how he can play bass, melody, and improv all at the same time. His playing brought me to tears--I love the timbre and depth of this instrument! According to Diabete at the show, he's preceded by 71 generations of kora musicians in his family (patrilineally). The concert began with us huddled together under Jordan's tent rain fly (propped up with hiking poles) as it began to storm, but soon enough, it stopped and the crowd began dancing. Bela Fleck also played on what he called a cello banjo, which resonated such a deeper sound. Surprisingly, Bela Fleck was not the headliner, but Nigerian musician Femi Kuti (and his incredible band complete with horn section and dancers) who compelled a bunch of mostly-white folks in the crowd to shake their rain-soaked booties.

Taxidermy and Trappist Monks in Huntsville

2009-06-06T08:13:00.000-07:00

Shira, Nicole, and I went on another "adventure"--this time a scenic drive to Ogden and east towards Huntsville, Utah. Of all things we visited a Trappist monastery where we bought monk-made jams and honey and then watched a Trappist service of monks chanting mournfully.
Next onto the Shooting Star Saloon where we chowed down on hamburgers topped with knackwurst. Their burgers have reportedly been ranked several times as one of the top ten in the nation. The saloon was a little hole in the wall, scores of old dollar bills stapled to the ceiling (as well as a toilet seat) and taxidermy everywhere, including the mounted head of a huge dog (St. Bernard) above one of the booths of which Shira didn't want to sit beneath. We then walked around a classic car show and drove to a nearby trail that lead to a mountaintop reaching over 9,000 feet in elevation and where we were able to traipse through snow in our sandals!

Shake Girl is a graphic novel created as a collaborative project among fifteen students and two instructors at Stanford (including my friend and fiction writer, Adam Johnson) that "create[s] awareness about the issues of violence against women, and more specifically, the phenomenon of acid attacks in Cambodia."

Sugar comes in all forms of melody

2009-06-05T11:54:00.001-07:00

We recently re-painted our back porch. It's a narrow space--about 3 x 10' or so and screened-in. Just enough room for our worm compost bin and a few chairs and plants. But perfect for enjoying a beverage and for the cats to lounge on chairs. They tend to stare at the birds outside (especially the family of starlings nesting inside the roof) and remind me of old women sitting on a stoop.

Last night I joined Kirsten and Nathan for a yummy chili and cornbread dinner. We sat on their back porch and drank presbyterians (I've converted) with whiskey and ginger ale.

I've been getting tired of my music collection so I've been listening to lots of new music lately, either by radio, downloads or cds friends have burned for me. Some new tunes include the compilation of covers, Dark Was the Night. I especially love the third track, "The Train Song," covered by Feist and Ben Gibbard. Then there's Neko Case's latest album, Middle Cyclone; Francoise Hardy, Wilco's Sky Blue Sky, Collections of Colonies of Bees's Customer; Tim Hecker's Radio Amor.