I was excited to catch up on life, and talk to friends from the states. Before I could do that I had a small run in with the authorities while leaving Vietnam. I approached the immigration desk at the airport like so many times before, expecting a wave of the hand. There was no queue, and I walked up to the smiling officials who stared at my passport and then at my face for quite a while. Then they pointed at my ear, and asked me if I had surgery on it. I was completely taken back by the question and said no. One of the officers left to get a second opinion, and after a few moments a three star official was brought over, who kindly ushered me into a back room. The whole time the officers seemed to be suppressing a certain level of smiling and laughing, but were stoic enough for me to be concerned.

Once I was in the small sparsely filled office I was asked to produce as many pieces of identification and photos possible for comparison. They then asked me to turn my head in various odd contortions which reminded me of the awkward positions the photographer seemed to love for school portraits while growing up. After 15-20 minutes of indecisive examination of my ear, they asked me to reproduce my signature a half dozen times, and than started going through the pages of my passport. They asked me to recite when and for how long I was in each country… I chuckled a bit to myself, and then started racing through any benchmark dates on my trip. Thankfully, they were happy with my answers and I was finally allowed to proceed to my plane.

I found my friend’s apartment without any difficulty, and after a brief 2 am conversation I got to sleep in a real bed without a check-out time, figuring out what I was going to eat for breakfast, or what to do / see all day. Since Grant and Kristin had to work all-day, I occupied myself with sight-seeing around the island group, until they were free in the evening. The spectacular sky-scrapers hugging the coasts of the hilly islands are great to marvel at, but otherwise this hub of commerce isn’t much else than a cosmopolitan city. There were a couple morsels worth seeing, including taking the tram to the top of Hong Kong Island, and hiking around the beautiful pathways, and my favorite the free open-air aviary in Hong Kong Park. Probably the most impressive aspect of Hong Kong is its versatile, efficient, and widespread transportation system, and its oh-so-easy Octopus Card. The Octopus Card not only lets you breeze through ticket queues, but you can use it similar to university cards at participating stores as cash!

My visit to Hong Kong was quite unique for two reasons: Grant and Kristin. Grant and Kristin play on an ultimate frisbee league, and they have traveled extensively to other asian countries for tournaments in their spare time. They happened to be having an inter-league game my second night there, and asked if I would like to play. Now, my experience playing frisbee has been limited to pick-up games in university, and out-of-season with my swim team which usually turned into muddy tackling sessions by the end. The least to say, I was a bit nervous, but happy to give it a shot. Even if they pulled me off the field after a few minutes.

The Hong Kong league was divided into four teams, and Grant and Kristin’s team was aptly called ‘the Smurfs.’ We went out for some cheap and delicious sushi in Causeway Bay before the game, and I got to meet some of the other players. Everyone was really nice, and very helpful in explaining the rules while we warmed up. The explained their strategies and lingo, and before long we were starting the game against the black team. The humble smurfs were hesitant to tell me, but this was the best team in the league, and they were hoping to not get too squashed.

The smurfs put me in as what they called deep-deep position, which meant I basically tried to stay open and wait for the Hail Mary pass. I ended up scoring twice! It was a good moral boost, and I was happy to be running around doing some physical exercise again. The smurfs played really well, and managed to beat the black team with a considerable lead. Grant and Kristin were both superbly better than I, and were very good team players. I was proud of my friends, their abilities, and the traveling they got to do because of it. After the match, we went out for a few celebratory drinks, and left to get some much needed rest.

The second night, Grant and Kristin brought me to the horse race track. Several other frisbee players had never been, so we all went off to the races! We met at a restaurant / bar called ‘the Chapel,’ and had some spicy Indian food before walking a short distance over to the track. I’d never been to the races before, and found it to be quite an experience. We bought the non-tourist tickets for 10 HKD (~1.50 USD), and spent a little money placing bets based on stats, funny names, or pure chance. As a group we faired… poorly. I managed to only loose a few dollars a race, while others like Grant who would bet all-or-nothing on one horse were charitable causes to the track owners. We took an inconspicuous elevator to an upper level filled with race junkies gripping their stat sheets and smoking through a flurry of cigarettes.

Nonetheless, we had a good time filling in punch cards (unlike standardized testing), and watching the race. The next day, I said goodbye to my friends, and more importantly fantastic hosts, and headed off to Shanghai. Its always hard to leave friends, even harder to leave a home, and yet I am off again.

I’ve been hanging out with my brother’s friend from university, AJ, the past few days on Koh Lanta. Today is his first professional Muay Thai Boxing Match, and this is my account of that fateful day.

Preparation

AJ has been in the gym training twice a day for the past couple of months. I asked him what one of his last workouts involved: 2500 crunches with a few hundred pushups, and grappling with a 6′ 5” Swede. Physically, AJ was as ready as could be, but the preparation didn’t stop there. Like a Thai version of Blues Brothers, the event was advertised by handing out flyers to everyone, making posters, and having a truck drive around the island with an oversized megaphone precariously strapped on shouting out the news of the big fight; there is something refreshing about hearing about an event this way.

George Forman Grills, AJ Cooks Thai

After a casual morning, AJ and his girlfriend April convinced me to come to a Thai cooking class for the afternoon. As tourism is at a low right now, we were the only three in the class, which consisted of us choosing 5 dishes and making them. On our menu for the day, in order of preparation: Beef salad (favorite dish of a soon to be Muay Thai boxer), chicken stir-fry with hot basil leaves, Pad Thai, Massam curry paste, and Massam Curry.

The dishes were eloquently simple, delicious, and nutritious. As we were pounding the curry paste, I asked AJ if he was ready, his reply was to mash at the mortar and pestel harder, and say, “Just getting warmed up.”

Bright Beach

Filled with delicious food, I planned to watch sunset on the tranquil beach, and AJ was going to get a rub-down massage before the fight. As happens this time of year, a large thunderhead had been brewing overhead, and the lightning started to rumble in the distance. It was an odd rush to the senses of staring at a beautiful beach and hear the rolling thunder in the distance. In a freak show of particle charges, we were all suddenly jostled out of our seats as lightning struck the beach with hardly a cloud above us.

After hearing screams, and realizing something had gone terribly wrong I stood up and started to run over to the strike. A blur of what-ifs ran through my head as I flashed back through all the various kinds of Red Cross and lifeguard certifications. As I arrived at the site, there were down branches from the tree that was hit. The branches had collapsed a massage hut, and two women were being dragged from the organic rubble. I could tell they weren’t hit. Definitely in shock, but ok.

I suddenly start seeing faces from the last few days as more people come running out of curiosity or a sense of trying to help. AJ arrived behind me from his massage, and like me wanted to help, but there was not much we could do,…especially with out inadequacies in speaking Thai. Thankfully, a truck arrived to shuttle them to the hospital within 2 minutes, and the crowd had cleared. It was a sudden jolt to the senses, and I decided to head back to the hammock on my bungalow for the rest of the time.

Welcome to the Ring

AJ likes to eat Snickers right before fighting for a little extra energy, not found in the rice/noodle with vegetable and meat staple diet. As such, both he and April had bought 4 each to be ready. With way too many Snickers hiding in the refrigerator in the bungalow ready for a last second snack, we were off to the ring early to meet friends and prep. AJ paced around, April and I scoped out the best photo/film location in the front row and squatted until show time. After waiting for the opposing fighters to arrive, and an hour of anxious fidgeting, the fighting began.

If you haven’t been to a proper Muay Thai match, the fight is 5 rounds, knees and elbows are fair game, and no head gear is used. Unlike our version of English brute force fighting, Muay Thai involves carefully places kicks, learning the opponents movements, and hard knees to the kidneys and stomach when grappling in close contact. The pre-fight involves a respectful walk around the ring to each corner, a walk and kneeling circular display in the middle with flowers adorned by the owner/ manager / or other dignitary present. The headbands are removed and the fight begins. During the fight, traditional high pitched music with a solid percussion beat is played as the joust for control starts.

Today’s match involved 9 fights, starting with children, a section of 5 international fighters (with AJ as the showcase foreigner), and a last bout between two Thais. We cheered for the Lanta gym side the whole time, but the Thais seemed to secretly cheer for the Thais the whole time. The first couple of international fighters did poorly after an adrenaline rush of swinging arms and hard kicks to their core. They didn’t last the ensuing rounds, and our hopes for AJ were starting to be put into doubt.

After a large Canadian smothered his opponent into submission, the largely foreigner crowd was out of their seats and cheering. It was AJ’s turn, and we were loud and proud as he walked down to the ring with a good friend from the gym, Aakey.

The Fight of All Fights

AJ’s opponent’s name was Ramboo, pronounced Rambo. AJ stood in his corner waiting for his opponent to step-in to the ring. 5 minutes later, a rumble heard, Ramboo stepped in large and in-charge. With a grin large enough to hide a submarine, he started to walk around the ring, but unlike the previous fighters, he made a show of punching and kicking the corners as he walked, whereas most fighters, including AJ, make a quiet bow of contemplation and keep walking.

The necessary pre-fight ritual complete, there was not much standing in the way of the fight. Round one was off, and the battle began with a cautious start. AJ and Rambo tried to find the weaknesses of each other with a raucous crowd and high pitch music flooding the ears. The dual was evenly matched until almost the end of the round when AJ landed a solid punch flooring Rambo. It wasn’t a knockout, but a good boost of moral. Haggard looking, the opponents were summoned to their corners.

After a buzz of activity in the corners with men vigorously stretching and rubbing legs, splashing water on the fighter, it was back to the action. Round two started the same as round one, but this time, AJ had unleashed his attack. After a couple grapples, and random kicks, AJ took the upper hand. A couple well placed kicks and a final blow sent Ramboo to the ground again. This time for good; with a wave of the referee’s hand, the bout was over. AJ 1 Rambo 0.

Once out of the ring, we all took turns congratulating AJ, receiving oily tiger balm hugs in return from him, and taking a superfluous amount of photos. AJ was ecstatic, we were ecstatic, we were shocked by the win, especially so fast, but we were happy. After some goodbyes, and a brief deliberation on where to have some celebratory drinks, we were off.

Many thanks to AJ, April, and their many friends who helped make my time on Koh Lanta amazing.

I met a few other travelers along the way including Karen from San Diego and a group of Norwegians just starting a month of travel through Thailand. Karen gave me some great advice on where to go down south, as she was leaving the next day for home. I took up her advice to travel to the beautiful and overcrowded Ko Phi Phi island. The archipelago is home to the movie “The Beach,” harvesting of swiftlet nests (made from the bird’s saliva) used in the excessively priced Chinese bird-nest soup, stunning Karst formations jutting out of the water, and a devastating Boxing Day Tsunami.

The island has recovered well in the past few years, thanks mainly to the thriving tourist money pouring into the island. I randomly ran into the group of Norwegians I had met in Bangkok, and we had a blast snorkeling, building sandcastles, tanning (and burning) on the beach, watching Muay Thai boxing, and partying early into the morning on the beach. This debauchery island is filled mostly with Scandinavian travelers, and I picked up on a few words thanks to my new friends. My favorite was the word for pre-gaming (drinking before going out) forshpiel, which also means foreplay.

Every time I opened my eyes after laying in the sun or opening the window I was again awestruck at the beauty of this place. Parts of the island are still being rebuilt after the Tsunami, and evacuation routes are now very clearly marked. I left this beautiful island to visit a friend of my brother’s on Koh Lanta who has been living here for several months training as a Muay Thai boxer while getting his PADI Dive Master certification. AJ fights on Sunday, and I’m enjoying the more relaxed and desolate beaches here while waiting to cheer him.

We decided next time this happened we would pick up the brush and run the opposite way until we reached the next corner. About a day later, not expecting it, and completely unready a shoe brush was dropped at our feet. I shockingly picked it up, tagging Brad on the shoulder as I ran by him. He quickly caught on and we ran around a corner. As we peeked around the corner we watched a portly man in his mid thrities drop his polishing tools and sprint after us. We waved the brush around the corner and started laughing. He knew he had been had, and played along well. His friend across the street was bent in half laughing at him, and ashamed he returned to his stuff after giving us some high five. We realized we would have to repeat this, and get it on film.

Since, the weather was not the best for shining shoes the following days, our vigilance proved unfruitful as most people didnt want their shoes shined in the rain.

After a slow breakfast, and attempt at fixing Venecia’s camera, we decided that since a lot of places would be closed and the weather was miraculously nice it was the perfect set-up for shoe polishers to be out and about. We had been scouting our street from before for sometime as it clearly was a prime target area, not directly by tourist attractions, but between several, and only a block or two from some hotels.

We walked by, camera ready, pretending to not pay attention to their ploys as oblivious as possible. The first pass was useless as the timing was all wrong. Feigning lost, we turned around, and he took the bait. He dropped the brush, we pulled the camera out and ran the other way. Ironically, this was an area Brad and I thought would be perfect as their was a small corner to hide around. We all ran there laughing hysterically, waiting for him to chase us down. One minute, two minutes. We realized he got him too good. He had no idea where we were.

Brad and I had wanted to make two videos, one stealing it, and then later quietly taking it, pretending we had no idea he dropped the brush, and when he approached us pretend to shine his shoes and use his ploys on him. Since, he didnt run after us, we returned to him. Again, camera ready, and Brad instead of giving the shoe brush back right away, starts shining his shoes, telling him about his bad knee, and sick sister at home. Asking for money. Our guy was laughing, and shamefully was a good sport about the whole deal. His friends refused to take a picture with him, but were almost crying from laughing so much.

It was the best birthday present I could’ve received, and a great way to spend my last few hours in Istanbul before heading off. I’ll let you know when I post the videos.

Until then here are some pictures:

As most of you know, and thanks everyone for the Facebook posts. New Years is my birthday. I wasn’t sure how that was going to work abroad, but it turned out to be a blast. We had a filling Turkish buffett dinner and danced around. At one point the waiters were going around lifting people up on their shoulders and dancing around. The crowd was pretty tame until about 4 minutes to midnight, and then the place took off. I’ve never seen such late bloomers, but maybe its the European trend of not going out to party until 2 am rubbing off on them. I also had the chance to practice one of those dances that should be forgotten, the macarena. We also had a belly dancer come perform for us, and she soon pulled me up and made me dance with her. What we all soon realized was 1) she wasn’t a good belly dancer 2) She wanted money for being pulled up and dancing with her. Regardless, it was a fun party. I’ll have to write a separate post about my feats of during the day time of my birthday.

On a lighter note, the nights between my defeat by the consulates was spent seeing the city. I went to a small bar in the clubbing area with seating for at most 40 people. There was a live band playing Turkish music, everyone was singing along. We ended up being the only English speaking people in the room. It was a fun night, and relaxing break from the bustle of the city.

Brad and I also ended up running into a couple of guys from Chicago. They were just in town for a week or so, but we ended up randomly meeting them again the next night completely unplanned. They were a cool bunch of guys, and certainly a change from the usual Canadian Australian crowd I’ve been meeting along the road so far. So Igor, Paul, and Nemanja send me some pictures, I dont have any with all of us, and say hi to Chi-town for me.

I’ll keep this short after my long-winded consulate story, but I’m planning to drop off my visa application in Ankara and meet back up with some people in Cappadocia. I’ve been looking forward to a visit here for months now, and I hear its snow-covered as well.

It is quite odd to get off you train and step onto a boat with steep stairs rising to the decks above. I was groggy and actually slept well, so I decided to just get out, snap a few shots and climb back into my cozy nook. Around 6:30 am I was woken up by a small Italian going “Problema, Problema,” and motioning us to the doors. I got off the train in Messina, and after a good bit of confusion and unhelpful personnel found out a strike had just started, and no trains would be going anywhere today.

I laughed and immediately thought of how this would be met in America: PANDAMONIA. I can envision CNN’s coverage of the ‘Thanksgiving Day Strike 2008′ and creating a sensationalistic portrait of crying families, filled with angry screaming in the background as news reporters fought through to bring back several heartfelt stories from people, “just trying to get home.” In Sicily though, the only chaos was the small mob for the buses. I wasn’t really in a rush, and knew if no other trains were coming, then this mob would eventually disappear, and I might avoid a cramped bus seat next to a man who doesn’t know what the word deodorant means. So I bought a ticket for a bus a couple hours later, found some breakfast, and sat by a fountain to the chagrin of several old wiry men.

The bus ride to Palermo was stunning. The roads follow the winding coast and are met by beautiful cove views on the north and green mountains and hills on the south. For about an hour of the trip my views consisted of looking at a beautiful valley in some degree of habitation for a minute, and then a dark tunnel for a minute or two. It was like watching a strobe light in super slow motion, but still a great Thanksgiving Day afternoon even without football.

I found my hostel easily, and settled down with my computer on my balcony. I was able to Skype home and talk to my family for several hours, and was quite sad when they finally left to attend the feast. The rest of tonight was spent eating delicious pasta, cannolis, and a Sicilian specialty called arronyo. Arronyo are a ball with meat and sauce in the middle surrounding by flavored rice, and the whole thing is then deep fried. It wasn’t pumpkin pie, but I would be back tomorrow for another!

Tomorrow I’ll spend some more time exploring this war torn city, but for now I’m wishing everyone a Happy Thanksgiving!

Nice was really nice. I stayed at a monastery which was converted into a youth hostel. The staff was extraordinarily nice, from picking you up in a shuttle to personally helping you plan your day each morning at breakfast. This is definitely a place not to miss! Check under the ‘Where I’ve Been’ Link for contact details.

The area around Nice is absolutely beautiful, with high cliffs and protected beaches, this is the base of the French Riviera. I spent a whole day lounging on the beach in VilleFrenche, which is just east of Nice and has a scallop shaped beach with crystal clear water. With the aid of some goggles I was off for the longest swim since being abroad. It wasn’t very far, but watching the fields of sea grass and clusters of fish swim by was a welcome change. Until I got stung in the chin by a jellyfish. It was at this point that I realized how hard it is to vent your frustration with jellyfish. I could see him with my goggles on, but unlike a dog you could kick after it bites you, a jellyfish is much more intangible. You can’t hit it, you can’t yell at it with any result, but if you get too close again you probably will get stung again. The only feasible solution I could think of was a perimeter ring of sea turtles swimming around me eating any potential jellyfish.

After, warming up on the beach I decided to visit a bar that my friend Marianne suggested to me. She frequented the bar often while studying abroad in Nice, and told me to stop in and say hi to the owners and drink a pint. The bar is called O’haras, and is located near the market area in the old town. The owners are from Britain, and have been in Nice for the last 23 years. When they opened, they were the first pub, and remained the only pub until 13 years ago. The bar is small, but packed with character, and the owners are quite chatty if you get them going. The wood paneling, row of distinctly single malt whiskey, low lighting, and TVs conjures images of a seaside pub too small for the brawls of sailors, but cozy and welcoming to the traveling soul. It was a great way to end the day.

Today is a bit less known as All Saints Day…which means last night was Halloween. I wasn’t sure how this holiday would be celebrated abroad, but in Spain it seems to be a big deal. Our hostel had a party for it last night before then guiding us around to some parties. I was working all day and didn’t plan to dress up until being convinced to a couple hours before the party started. I wanted to be some sort of American for party, but was struggling with a good idea. With the help of a cheap dollar store, and some innovative inspiration I emerged for the evening as Hulk Hogan! Thankfully, lots of people also dressed up for the evening, and we had a great time. Unbeknown to me, there was a costume contest and the winner was…. Hogan! It was great to have people to celebrate with, and thankfully I didn’t eat too much candy. I hope everyone is having a safe end to their Halloween night and a good weekend ahead.

Unfortunately, I called Juanjo on Saturday only to find out he had tickets to the largest futbol (aka soccer) game of the year in Madrid. Real Madrid vs. Atletico Madrid. He told me I could try to get an outrageously priced ticket or find a jam packed bar by the stadium. Budget traveling helped me make my decision not to buy a 120 euro ticket.

The game was home for Atletico, and as such the bar was filled almost entirely by Atletico fanatics. I promised Juanjo I would cheer for Atletico. American fans of any sport will be hard pressed to beat the frenzy of true futbol fans. The chanting and cheering in the bar was ear-numbing, I stepped outside during half time for some fresh air and a little more space. By the final few minutes of the game Real Madrid was winning 1-0, and Atletico had a foul shot. The crowd became silent waiting not for the TV, but the roar of the crowd inside the stadium. The suspense in the bar electrified as the stadium exploded with sound. The three seconds it took for the images of the goal to be transferred to the TV inside the bar would make any movie producer lustful with envy in trying to emulate. The cheering of not just a goal, but of hope as the game was now tied was overwhelming. Fair weather fans who were leaving the stadium in shame of the ensuing loss ran to the bar. You could feel the wave of people pushing to get a glimpse of the goal on the TV..

Sadly, this fairy tale story stops short. In the stoppage minutes following the goal, Real Madrid scored again and many a fan left for home quietly.

After a day of being jilted on a river cruise that pointed out monuments and museums which you could hardly see over the high river banks and a poor English translation, I took a sun nap at Pont Neuf at the point of Ile de Cite. This is a small island in the Seine where Paris was first started. The island is home to the famous Notre Dame, Conciergie, and the amazing Ste Chapelle. I decided to hold off on visiting these sites until the next day, and headed towards my hostel in Montemarte before heading up the hill to Sacre Couer to watch the sunset. Upon returning to the hostel, I found out there was a wine festival at the top of the hill, and bands have been processing up all day long. Naturally, we headed up to check out the excitement.

Most of the booths had free tastings, and I certainly learned a lot about wine. It is definitely good that I have to carry everything on my back, otherwise I might have bought some of the better fare. The crowd was bustling and cheery with live music and fireworks at midnight. One of the vendors told us it was the 75th year of this festival, and it takes place for 10 days (today being the last). Usually, the steps of the Sacred Heart church are filled with people enjoying a bottle of wine, cheese, and bread watching bustling Paris below. It is the geographically highest point in Paris, and free, and tonight I felt like a sardine packed onto the hill.

The next day, I decided to enjoy a bit of a splurge and had brunch at Les Deux Magots. This restaurant is famous for its historical client el including Picasso and Hemingway. I was told the hot chocolate was superb…and I couldn’t agree more. The terrace view of Parisians and tourists out for a Sunday stroll was relaxing even with some noses being stuck a little too high in the air.

I wandered over to the Ste Chappelle. If you only visit one place in Paris, go here. The Chapel was built inside the then Royal Palace and was home to the Christian Relics bought by the King at great cost until being moved to Notre Dame. Like many churches, the stain glass windows were a way of presenting the Bible to the illiterate, but these windows are eloquent, massive, and if a picture is worth a 1000 words, maybe longer than the bible itself. You walk into the chapel via a small winding staircase and come out right into the small chapel. As you start to process what exactly is here and its awe you quickly understand why they have chairs lining the room. Sitting and processing this magnificent place was well worth the admission.

Feeling awe inspired I decided to head into Notre Dame, I happened to be there in time for the Sunday evensong service. This began with a half hour of organ music that filled the high ceilings with powerful notes, and light melodies that were washed away at times by the murmur of the crowds walking around. The service following it was high Catholic, and I gave up on trying to take it in as the people walking around seemed to forget it was a place of worship and continued with their tours and random conversations, and headed outside for the approaching sunset.

By this time the hostel crowd had been growing as we met each other, talk about where we are going, where we’ve been and such and ended up forming a good size group. Each evening involved eating, drinking, and chatting on the terrace, going out for a pastis, etc. After a bit of talking we decided it would be nice to watch the sunset from the Eifel Tower and then watch the light show that ensued each hours after. It was nice to do things with a group, if you are in the romantic cliché that is Paris without a partner then best to go with a fun group and not wallow in misery. The views were outstanding, and friends refreshingly fun.

My last day in Paris was actually in Versailles. I headed out to the Palace with some Aussies from the hostel. The palace was extraordinary, but the more impressive work was the modern art littered around the Palace by Jeff Koons. Each piece paired the room it was in, and they were tasteful with excellent craftsmanship. We wandered the gardens, and I had to laugh every once and a while thinking of Mel Brooks’ – ‘A history of the world,’ and the ‘Its good to be the king’ segment. I managed to talk the group into renting row boats and talking a nice paddle around the canal. It was a great end to Paris, and now its time to head to the Basque region and Bayonne, famous for its smoked ham.

Thanks to all the people I met in Paris, there are too many of you to name!