Tuk Tuk? You Want Tuk Tuk?

Well, everything's a good price in Bangkok. From the street-vendor pad thai for 25 Bahts(=.75USD) to the 15 mins metered taxi for 60 Bahts (1.90USD), everything is jaw-droppingly cheap. Immediately after leaving the airport, mistakenly arriving at Khao San Road, I exchanged my 150 USD's for Thai Baht. In return, I got crisp, not even one slight crinkle Bahts. With the exchange rate of 33.3 Baht per 1 US Dollar, I had literally a wad of cash that my wallet could not even close. Talk about monopoly money.

Spending only four days, I went to Khao San Road (the backpackers' haven, they call it), ziplined through the forests/jungles, ate savory and sweet street foods in plastic bags that will probably give me cancer, petted a baby tiger, baby crocodile, and ginormous elephant, walked through a line of loitering prostitutes, was assisted by ladyboy-waitresses/ers, took off my shoes (again. Note Seoul) in order to step into an establishment, raided a 7-11 for midnight snacks, played calculator-bargaining war with street sellers, unknowingly taken to a tailor shop by a tuk tuk driver, and finally, was repeatedly offered a ping pong show (Wikipedia has a more than necessary description). Bangkok: check. Exhaustion: check.

Like Jimmy Fallon's late-night talk show, where he introduces a new segment almost every night to win back those lost viewers from the transition of Conan to Fallon, I bring you my newest segment: Coupon Clippings!!!!

Coupon Clippings: Bangkok, Thailand

1.5L Bottle of Water: .20 USD

Metro Train Ride: .60-.90 USD

Fun-Size Bag of Lay's Chips: .30 USD

Pad Thai with Chicken: 1 USD

Iced Milk Tea: .30 USD

Tourist T Shirts: 3 USD

Postcard: .12 USD

Seoul-Trippin'

안녕하세요!
[An nyoung ha seh yo = Hello] One of the two phrases that I learned while in Korea this past weekend. That and 감사합니다 [kamsamnida = thank you]. To my surprise, people just kept speaking to me in Korean; I guess since I look Asian and in Korea, I might as well be Korean. But, with such drool-worthy food, adorably impractical stationary, inexpensive fish-shaped-red-bean pancakes [3 for .80USD], and less than 15USD flats, call me Korean and Seoul my homeland.

Spent 4.5 days in Seoul, sleeping in the cellar of some hostel located in the Hongdae district. Ate at restaurants less than 6,000W (or 5USD) each meal. Spent 900W(or .80USD) each way on the Metro. Sightsaw palaces, reproductions of traditional Korean villages, and other anachronistic locations in the middle of the traffic-bustling, Starbucks-addicted Seoul.
Other than doing the usual tourist bit, I tried my best to have one of those days, wandering around a new city, avoiding all tourist traps, and out of the blue, stumbling upon a local shop or bar, but instead around every corner was a Dunkin' Donuts, Starbucks, Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, or possibly The Body Shop. Ahh, the American mall never escapes me. One night, however, walking around the streets of Hongdae for a street-food dinner, we heard the echos of American classics overpowering the equally loud chatter of conversation. Learning from my time in Peru that bars on the second floor with shaky, termite-infested staircases are typically the best places to grab a drink, to observe the bustling street of tipsy locals, and to calculate how much money you've spent that day, we found Bar [insert Korean character I can't read], which looked like a mini-bar of pirate ship, with sea-themed objects hanging off the ceiling, polaroids of unconscious regulars tiled along the wall, and dishes of dried fish as your chit-chat snacker.

Taking the subway to and from locations, I did stumble upon some idiosyncrasies of the average Seoulite. There is, to a San Franciscan, an unbearable quiet on a subway car, due to the fact that most of the riders are on their music players or watching TV off of Ipod-like devices with an oddly-angled antennas. Or, when parting the Red Sea of a crowd, Seoulites do not feel the need for vocally alert you of their oncoming collision of elbows, shoulders, or just dangling limbs. Instead, they just move ahead with shoulders and elbows ready to take on its victims. First-hand experience: Several times, when grown to elderly men would shoulder-bump me to the point of losing balance in order to get on a train. Subway war wounds, I call it.

Location: Hong Kong SAR

Song Playing: New Thao Album!

One Month Mark in Hong Kong!

Welcome to the One-Month Mark!

I remember reaching that one month mark in Peru only to be left alone by my fellow volunteers at Cusco Airport a few days after. But, the funny thing I just realized is that I haven't celebrated a one-month mark in the States since July, nor will I until hmm... July of 2010. Does that earn me expat status?

Being in Hong Kong for a month has made me really appreciate weather I have always taken for granted. I have learned the feeling of upper-lip sweat, now understand the need for an umbrella (not that I practice that nor will I ever; I will just return home looking like burnt toast), have experienced the native ritual of standing in front of the air conditioner. Oh, how I miss the San Francisco fog, or even dry Los Angeles, 85 degree heat sounds attractive right about now. Other than the weather being worthy of complaining, the mosquitos. Oh, those darn things that makes my legs look dalmation-themed. I never heard one buzz across my ear, but I sure see the remnants of their gluttonous appetites. Enough with the complaining about my last month here, classes at Chinese University of Hong Kong has begun. Human Rights, Love in Indian Culture, Intermediate Mandarin, Korean Society; I mean business, yo! Taking classes Monday to Wednesday with Thursday and Friday means 'hello' East and Southeast Asia! One weekend in October for Seoul (aka Seoul-Trippin' in October) and another very long weekend in Bangkok (any play-on-words for Bangkok would just be inappropriate.)

To mark my time here in Hong Kong, or really having a base in Hong Kong for the rest of my Asian travels, I will purchase some cheap Moleskine replica and write down all the memorable Lost-in-Translation English I see here in Hong Kong, as well as Seoul and Bangkok.

Here's the breakdown of the price of food in Hong Kong:

1 USD = 7.75 (or 8) HKD

24 oz of Milk Tea Tapioca = 11HKD

Bowl of Won-Ton Noodle Soup = 16HKD

Student Fare of Train from University to Kowloon = About 5 HKD

Vanilla Bean Flavoured Beard Papa = 12 HKD

McDonalds Big N' Tasty Meal = 26 HKD



Beautiful. Call me king 'cause I sure eat like one.

Location: Shatin, Hong Kong SAR

Interesting Find: Hong Kong

I bought a bottle of sweat, sorry, hydrating sweat. Mmm, Delicious.

Now to Conquer Asia!

On the eve of my departure for Hong Kong, I can't say that I have spent enough time in San Francisco to start up a routine nor had enough time to get unhung up about my time in Peru. But anyway, I've once again packed up all my clothes, this time with more variation than just jeans and v-neck tee shirts, into a suitcase for the next four months. For this part of the year, I have honestly done the worst amount of research, as in none. No Lonely Planet or Fodor's. No checking the weather channel for the latest updates. Just a suitcase of clothes, a Northface Denali for those chilly nights, and running shoes. I don't even know when and where my orientation is for Chinese University (CUHK) nor do I know if I have been assigned to a dorm on campus just yet. And I thought, not knowing if I was assigned to a host family for my stay in Peru was a low point in 'preparedness' (Cub Scouts of America, you can take away that honorary badge I got in 3rd grade).

I had all intentions of pulling an all-nighter tonight, binge-watching How I Met Your Mother, but I really can't stay up any later passed midnight. Especially knowing that it will probably be my last night on a real mattress for a while, since I will probably be bumming on my gram's couch for the next week.

P.S I will proudly be wearing my party pants/official backpacker pants while flying to Hong Kong tomorrow. I hope that means 'welcome to the club.'

Current Location: San Francisco, CA, USA

Trek of 30 Hours and Reverse Culture Shock

30 hours after my initial departure from my house in Cusco, I am back home, sitting in wifi internet, with my dearly-missed laptop and a cup of coca tea. How I have coca tea in the States, please don't ask. After a stop in Lima for 13 hours, then panicking through the security and customs at Lima Airport because I was actually late for my departure time, a brief layover in Houston, where I realized that the States, a land of gringos, is so boring compared to Peru, I arrive in San Francisco. At one point of my trek home, I turned to Katie, my fellow intern, while at the Houston Airport bathroom, and said "Katie, you realize that this sink (complete with hot water and slight pressure) is better than the shower we've had for a month and a half." Despite my amazement of water pressure in sinks here, I truly do miss Cusco. Walking out of my Cusco house mid-day with the beaming sun and the stray dogs roaming the streets aimlessly. The sight of the fountain in Plaza de Armas with Peruvian children bundled up in adorable hats with earflaps, selling packets of gum. And then at the sight of the newest People Magazine on stands and overhearing the CNN reporting about the autopsy of Michael Jackson at the domestic terminal in Houston Airport, I suddenly had the greatest urge to return to Avenida del Cultura and buy an alfajor (a shortbread cookie sandwich with caramel and powdered sugar; yes, it is delicious).

Before my return to the States, my last weekend, I did go to Urubamba for the first time with Matt and Alena. On a Saturday at noon, the central plaza in Urubamba is completely empty with barely a moto riding through. What a change from the crazy, hustle and bustle streets of Cusco that I can barely get cross without getting run over. Having never been there before, we aimlessly wandered around town and north of the plaza, including breaking into another volunteer office, thinking it was Casa ProPeru. We should have stayed. But, by late afternoon, everything was in order with us finally finding a decent hostel, and having eaten lunch. At one point, probably my favorite point of the night, we three sang the lyrics of Wonderwall by Oasis (having heard it in a discoteca the night before) while walking down the lonely streets of Urubamba, looking for a good dinner spot. The next morning, we woke up way too early in order to go to the Sunday Pisac Market to buy some last minute souvenirs. Oh, how I love the Pisac Market; I could never help stroking the alpaca scarves or picking up the knick-knack sized Incan crosses, but bargaining with those ladies is ruthless.

Several times in the last two days of being home, I think back and can't believe that only three days ago, or only four days ago, I was in Lima, Cusco, and Urubamba. Being back in my house with my room intact as when I left it a month and a half ago, there's an odd reflection that being in Peru, taking a combi to work, and walking around Machu Picchu just seems like an unreal episode of a summer.

But the remnants of my month and a half still remain after two days of home, probably called some form of culture shock. I still flinch at the sight of oncoming cars, even though there's a traffic light indicating me to go. I now flush my toilet paper into a toilet with a sense of guilt as if I was doing something wrong. Right as I enter the shower, I still hold that slight hope that the water would be decently warm, even though I have turned the hot water knob to the furthest extent. I have learned that the most educational way of watching Friends is with Spanish subtitles. Oddly, I think I'm experiencing more reverse culture shock in the States than when I first arrived in Cusco.

Location: San Francisco, CA, USA

Song Playing: Wait for Love by Josh Ritter

Last Week!

I can now say I am have been here for more than a month now! Time certainly flew by fast but at the sight of seeing my fellow volunteers leave on Sunday, it's not flying fast enough! Even though I am so ready for hot showers, hot water in sinks, warmth, traffic laws, dogs on leashes, and pedestrian's right of way, I did sign up for a 5 week program and should not settle on anything shorter.

Going to the airport on Sunday with Emily and, more or less, everyone else was the biggest tease of my life. Bigger than those Harry Potter trailers! Standing in line for check-in, yelling over the LAN airlines counter, and frantically resolving any flight complications all teased me about my non-existent flight back to the States that day! And, of course, being on the verge of tears, as people walked up the escalators toward security. Hello, last scene in Garden State with Natalie Portman. 'No, it's not an ending/period, just an elipsis.' What bullshit, Zach Braff! Fortunately, my flight on Monday the 10th, I will not be alone but I will not be ready for a 30 hour trip back home. Layovers when flying home are the most torturous! For the time, being I am hanging out at the ProPeru office, like it's my best friend, clinging onto the desktop circa 2000.

For this week, I have to have an intense souvenir shopping session, spending the last of my Soles, probably on little llama statues. Which reminds me, for my newfound hate of airport tax. 5 dollars to get out of Cusco to Lima, and then 30 dollars to leave Lima. I think this should be investigated as some form of ransom for my month.half long kidnapping in Peru. Homeland Security, work your wonders! I barely spend that much in a week here! I prefer my airport tax, hidden in my airfare, which mysteriously jumps several hundred dollars after I choose the flight on Travelocity. Please con me that way from now on!

Anyway, several more days to go before I am back in the States. Only for 9 days before I am off to Asia, so catch me if you can (I want to be Leo, and you be can Tom Hanks. Receding hairlines so do not bring out my eyes.)