I hate goodbyes.

This is my final post on Blogger.  I've decided to jump ship and start a blog on Wordpress, thus moving forward, I'll be writing on that platform.

Check out and bookmark/Follow my new digs.

Quote of the Day

"The individual, if empowered, will be able to sustain the aid that eventually goes away."

-Lesley Desaulniers, founder of The Authenticity Project (See full article @  The Good 100)

Everyone Should Have a Trade

I've now had several conversations with Aaron, relatives, and friends about how members of my generation don't possess many tangible skills - skills that might cushion a harsh lay off or unexpected turns in life.  This is disadvantageous to society, in general.  Why else did we take shop or home economic classes as teenagers in high school?  Educational institutions, teachers, and parents should make more of an effort to encourage students (especially young children) to explore various types of crafts and artistry.  It's detrimental to students when elders counter their creative aspirations to become singers, actors, writers, painters, chefs, etc. with saying something along the lines of, "You'll never make a decent living doing that."  Creativity should be rewarded, now so maybe more than ever.

Just recently, I joined a number of groups and associations through the professional social networking site, LinkedIn, to become educated about the topics being discussed in journalism and multimedia industries today.  Being a new member of these organizations, I automatically receive updates and notifications in my Gmail inbox every time a new discussion begins or a post is made addressed to the group.  Today, one such notification highlighted an article that chronicles several job seekers who weighed the possibility of going into professions in which they use their hands and found success or personal fulfillment (or both).  John Melendez, the author of this article , encourages individuals to take risks when opportunities are presented (especially when circumstances allow for transition in one's life) and applauds the people he profiled for their departure from white to blue-collar work.

Melendez wrote another article about one man's decision to simplify his life and un-clutter his mind once he was laid off.  After reading this piece, you might get the sense that Bob enters a realm of something similar to Buddhism, realizing how little he needs to survive, how to adjust to a slower pace of life, and how to enjoy and live in the moment.  These are all things we can learn to do.

My first 10K of 2010

Just completed the Chinese New Year Run in Chinatown over an hour ago.  Came in at 1 hr., 2 min., and 5 seconds (average of 10 min. miles).  Not bad for having gotten less than 4 hours of sleep, raindrops coming down as soon as we launched off, and not having formally trained since December 2008.  My goal is to finish the Oakland Running Festival 1/2 next month at around 1:50.  That's a pace of approximately 8:40.  Still a lot of running to be done over the next five weeks.

An Homage to Young Love (in Vietnam)

I've finally converted some of the RAW photos I took during the trip.  Although I haven't taken the time to experiment with these images in Photoshop, I'd like to show you a few that I took following lovebirds around Hoan Kiem lake in central Hanoi.

Dave Eggers and McSweeney's Roadshow

Earlier tonight, a few friends accompanied me to Cal's Sibley Auditorium to listen to Dave Eggers speak about the (not sure if controversial is the right word) publication of Panorama. The contributions made by he, several editors, and staffers of the 300+ page one-time edition newspaper were sheer brilliance. I could not help but think: Wow, we are in the presence of great forward-thinking individuals.

To give you some background: In the 1990s, Dave Eggers started his career in the SF Bay Area as a journalist with skills in graphic design. He eventually began to write, edit, and publish work for several news organizations and magazines. Having penned a successful memoir, several novels, compilations of interviews and essays, as well as major motion picture screenplays (last year's Where the Wild Things Are and Away We Go), he founded an independent publishing house, McSweeney's, and played a major role in establishing a non-profit writing and tutoring center for school-aged children in SF's Mission district called 826 Valencia (aka "the Pirate Shop").

Eggers' activism in local communities is not only a driving force for children's renewed interest in the literary arts, it's safe to say that he's spearheaded the wave of questions we've directed towards the news industry and encouraged us to hold journalists accountable in how they provide information to the public.

Some of the points Eggers and his peers touched on last night were:
-The misinformation to the public that print news agencies are "dying"
-Why it makes logical business sense to charge readers for online content (and how it hurts papers that don't)
-The connection between newspapers and the level of corruption in government (i.e. Journalists help hold governments accountable for decisions and actions that affect the public.)
-The graphics, size, and colors displayed in print newspapers (i.e. the importance of aesthetic factors in attracting, as well as retaining readership)
-Allowing writers or reporters to write in long form (the notion that an article should be as long as it needs to be so that the message or information is complete)
-Critical fact-checking processes and the disposal of these departments in newspapers (due to cuts in operating costs). We need to see this as a loss of credibility in the paper.
-Reinvesting in investigative journalism. (ie. No news organization even thought to ask how much the new Bay Bridge was going to cost - twice as much as expected! Where parts were coming from - China! The safety of the bridge! Etc.)
-The physiological experience derived from reading print newspapers (stimulating, relaxing, engaging!), as opposed to reading the news from multiple online sources (distracting, jumpy, stressful!)
-The lifespan of readership (pouring over the comics as a child, moving onto different sections throughout your lifetime, the habitual reading of certain editorials and columns...this is the relationship you establish with a paper)

As someone who is fascinated by the amount of changes this particular industry is facing, I was blown away by the presentation. More than 12 hours later, I'm still thinking about certain points made and unabashedly inspired by the questions that still need to be answered. If you have not purchased your own copy of the Panorama, I highly suggest you make a trip out to 826 Valencia. Why purchase the paper there? What normally costs $16 is only going to cost you $5 (money you would've dropped on a latte that's going to give you a stomachache). Let's try to keep this form of news above water and do our part to make the industry cognizant of our loyalty.

Correction:  Cost is $16 at 826 Valencia if you buy the issue after the day it's printed.

Watch NBC News tonight!

Just received a call from my friend, Gabi, who was going to join my girlfriends and me for dinner @ Nopa tonight. She had to cancel because she was just invited to be on NBC tonight at 11pm, a feature they are doing on Broke Ass Gourmet!!! Congratulations, Gabi! That press coverage is going to be MASSIVE in getting the word out there! I am truly ecstatic for you! Hopefully, I can record or catch it on YouTube...


***Updated: Here's the actual segment .

What does it mean to be a Hipster?

There is a creative revolution happening here. More and more people I meet are leaving stable, traditional, 9-5 jobs to pursue study or work in fields they feel passionate about. Or they are taking risks to try to determine what they feel passionate about. Here's my question - is it just that time when peers from my generation are supposed to be hopping from job to job or is this an indication of some sort of movement on a larger scale?

Aaron first told me about the latest "Be Stupid" Diesel ads when I got back into town. Being an advertising student, it's his prerogative to analyze, dissect, and learn from ads in all industries. Without having visualized what he was describing, I initially thought Diesel's campaign sounded weak. This morning, as I walked along California St. going back up to my apartment, I noticed Diesel posters hanging on a wall before reaching Fillmore (pictured below). One declared "Smart may have the brains, but Stupid has the balls," and another "Smart Critiques. Stupid Creates." It's obvious that being "Smart" is associated with staying within boundaries, not breaking any rules, thus not stepping outside of the box. "Stupid" is being glamorized with the notion that your heart is making your decisions, not your head.



Here is Diesel's Stupid Philosophy:

Like balloons, we are filled with hopes and dreams. But. Over time a single sentence creeps into our lives. Don’t be stupid. It’s the crusher of possibility. It’s the worlds greatest deflator. The world is full of smart people. Doing all kind of smart things… That's smart. Well, we’re with stupid. Stupid is the relentless pursuit of a regret free life. Smart may have the brains…
but stupid has the balls. The smart might recognize things for how they are. The stupid see things for how they could be. Smart critiques. Stupid creates. The fact is if we didn't have stupid thoughts wed have no interesting thoughts at all. Smart may have the plans… but stupid has the stories. Smart may have the authority but stupid has one hell of a hangover. Its not smart to take risks… Its stupid. To be stupid is to be brave. The stupid aren't afraid to fail. The stupid know there are worse things than failure… like not even trying. Smart had one good idea, and that idea was stupid. You can’t outsmart stupid. So don’t even try. Remember only stupid can be truly brilliant. (Source: Creative Ad Awards)

I find this interesting at a time when it seems as if interest in the arts is being revived. Not that interest was dead, but lately everywhere I turn, I see posters for improv and performance art shows, multimedia workshops, endless discussions regarding how people are getting their news. The list goes on. I find myself signing up to attend lectures, exhibits, and shows for topics spread across the full spectrum. I'm paying to see bands that I've never heard of. It's becoming more and more important to be well-rounded in a culturally aware, technologically capable, and idea-driven society.

So, why am I asking what it means to be a hipster? When I think of the Diesel ads, I think of how the campaign most likely reached out to the hipster audience. According to the online Princeton dictionary, a hipster is someone who rejects the established culture and advocates extreme liberalism in politics and lifestyle. According to Urban Dictionary: Listens to bands that you have never heard of. Has hairstyle that can only be described as "complicated." (Most likely achieved by a minimum of one week not washing it.) Probably tattooed. Maybe gay. Definitely cooler than you. Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Styles section of the New York Times. Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often. Complains. Always denies being a hipster. Hates the word. Probably living off parents money - and spends a great deal of it to look like they don't have any. Has friends and/or self cut hair. Dyes it frequently (black, white-blonde, etc. and until scalp bleeds). Has a closet full of clothing but usually wears same three things OVER AND OVER (most likely very tight black pants, scarf, and ironic tee-shirt). Chips off nail polish artfully after $50 manicure. Sleeps with everyone and talks about it at great volume in crowded coffee shops. Addicted to coffee, cigarettes (Parliaments, Camel Reds, Lucky Strikes, etc.), and possibly cocaine. Claims to be in a band. Rehearsals consist of choosing outfits for next show and drinking PBR. Always on the list. Majors or majored in art, writing, or queer studies. Name-drops. May go by "Penny Lane," "Eleanor Rigby," etc. when drunk. On PBR. Which is usually.

Is it possible that we all have a little bit of hipster in us? Yet, we more often than not make fun of them. I think it may have something to do with envy. Maybe they know something we don't. Maybe all that angst and counterculture is present for a reason. Everyone wants to be different. But then again, being a hipster doesn't make you all that different, these days.

My point is, the rise of this most recent population coined as hipsters is in parallel to the rise of investment in creativity. It's exciting to be witness to the upcoming changes taking place in the arts and cultural world. Not only am I more aware of this revolutionary place in time, I am looking forward to being part of it.

Feeling this song right now...

Chasing Pavement

It's official. After months of traveling, making excuses about the weather being too cold, and plain putting it off, I went on a run this morning. It was just like I remembered it: me, the ground, crisp San Francisco air, brief familiar scenes I'm witness to whenever I go for a jog...

Stopping only to sip water from rusty fountains along the way, snap a few photos using my G1, and pet the occasional mutt, I felt like I could continue for hours. On a day when you can clearly see the GG Bridge, the ocean is gentle and shimmering, and dog walkers are playing fetch with their collective masses, it's hard not to feel like one of the luckiest people in the States. We live in such an incredible city. I turn to do a 360 and check off views of green mountains, tiny islands, the Bridge, the identifiable Exploratorium, grassy fields, a sandy beach littered with only a few people enjoying the gorgeous day, and the long dirt trail where runners come to unwind, gather their thoughts, and stretch their muscles. I am fully appreciating San Francisco and the generosity its shown me over the last few years.


These haven't seen the light of day since sliding down wet muddy hills in Sapa, Vietnam....

It's just you and the ground...

This is for you, Rami

http://www.racialicious.com/2010/02/04/why-date-or-marry-asian-women/

Arrrrrguably one of the strangest things I've done in a while...

About a year ago, I came across the website for a new company, The Go Game, that organizes scavenger hunts for companies in the SF Bay Area. Thinking it might be, at least, amusing, I added my name and contact information to the sign up sheet of potential actors (or plants) they could use to play parts in what they call "GO games". I'd never had the time to participate in these games, since I worked the traditional 8-5 most weekdays, but now that I have most Monday through Fridays fairly open, I signed up for a specific event to occur in SOMA/Union Square last Tuesday.

This is how it works:
A) You subscribe to the Go Game's mailing list.
B) The game "runner" (aka organizer) blasts an email out to individuals on the mailing list describing the dates of, companies participating, and locations of upcoming events.
C) You reply to the game runner listing all events you are available to participate in and wait to hear back on confirmation.
D) Once confirmed, you receive instructions on: any costumes or props that you might need to wear or bring and the time and date to meet. No details on what to expect, nor what your part will be. It's the uncertainty that makes this almost exhilarating.
E) Another factor that provides incentive for signing up is the fact that you're paid for the 2-3 hours you participate as an actor or plant. The average rate is $60 per event. Not bad, huh?

On Tuesday, I bussed over to Howard & 4th, where the Yerba Buena Gardens carousel sits, and met with the game runner, as well as some of the other actors/plants signed up to participate in this game. It was quite a mixed crowd. The other actors ranged from employed SF residents who had a few hours to kill to local college students trying to make a quick buck doing something different and quirky.

Upon arrival, we each received a check for $60, as well as a printout of details regarding our roles and the overall mission of the game. I was to dress up as a pirate and administer 20 Questions and Chubby Bunny games to several groups from Google's headquarters. Once I understood what was expected of me, I walked over to the Powell St. Bart station and went downstairs where I knew there would be adequate traffic from people leaving work and getting on or off the train. Standing there, waiting for the groups to arrive, I was approached by young delinquents who offered to keep me company, a retired Navy officer who was curious as to what I was doing in pirate gear standing in a public place freezing my butt off and asking me very personal questions, and a few grizzly bums who told me to "go sell drugs on another street!" First of all, I had a pen and notebook in my hand. Secondly, I don't think I could ever resemble a drug dealer, even if I tried. And finally, where was everyone's sense of humor? I had expected casual bystanders to come by and ask me what I was doing, but if I wasn't being hit on, I was being hassled.

I'm not sure I would participate in another Go Game, but I have to say, that was probably the easiest $60 I've made. At least, since I stopped selling drugs.

BrokeAsses Unite

A friend of mine is throwing an anniversary party at Hobson's Choice tomorrow celebrating the success of BrokeAss Gourmet. Details, per Gabi, are below. Hope you can make it out (and remember to bring cash for the raffle tickets).

Exactly one year ago on February 4, BrokeAss Gourmet (http://www.brokeassgourmet.com) launched. Come celebrate a year of wonderful cooking, eating, drinking and fun on a budget at Hobson's Choice in San Francisco, where BrokeAss Gourmet bartender Laith Hassan (http://brokeassgourmet.com/articles/the-monkey-spanker) will be mixing drinks and stealing hearts.

Additionally we'll be selling raffle tickets for several prizes, including an immersion blender, a gift certificate to Trader Joe's and a dinner party catered by your favorite BrokeAss, Gabi Moskowitz. Proceeds will go to Haiti earthquake relief.

This feels like limbo...

It's strange to think that I don't have to wake up at a certain time tomorrow, though I know I'll start to toss and turn before 7 - a biological default.

Mondays. They don't mean to me what they did just 4 months ago.

Since I no longer have a steady stream of income that accompanies a safety net of health, vision, dental insurance, pre-taxed bus passes, and bonus checks at the end of every excruciating sales quarter, it's safe to assume that I'll be making a few lifestyle changes. No longer will I be eager to spend over $30 a meal at a trendy new restaurant listed in the City Dish newsletter I receive in my inbox every week. It's likely that I'll take a few more minutes than usual to weigh how much I really need or want to attend the latest headliner at the Fillmore next Thursday night. I've started to conserve the number of text messages I send, seeing that I've gone over the 400 monthly limit T-Mobile allows on my plan for the last year. I've even considered, heaven forbid (and no pun intended), canceling my monthly membership at the JCC on Cal and Presidio to save the $99/mon. while unemployed. I mean - I have legs. I know how to use them. I have a bike, and I know how to ride it. Maybe this unemployed me will lead to a healthier me. Less excess. More simplifying. Consuming only what I need. There's that positive thinking again.

With the substantial amount of time that I'll now have during the day, I've begun to develop a solid reading list. My sister Wendy, who came back for my aunt's funeral yesterday, might be one of the most offensive gift givers I've ever met. One year, she gave me a Garden State DVD for Christmas. It would have been a great gift, except for the fact that I knew she had two versions of the movie perched on her bookshelf in Brooklyn and was giving me the one she received from a friend most recently. Last night, she told me she had two new books for me. One was Mountains Beyond Mountains, and the other was What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. That's funny, I thought. She already gave me the latter last year for my birthday! How quickly she forgot. I could not stop laughing, even as she refused to believe that she had already given me the memoir. Anyway, having registered for the Chinatown Year of the Tiger 10K next month and the Oakland Running Festival in late March, many of my mornings between now and then will begin with a long run, or so I plan. I'm hoping the Murakami memoir is going to provide inspiration as did both of Dean Karnazes' titles when I read them in 2008.

There are no girls in San Francisco....or are there?

As one of my favorite blogs to peruse when surfing the net for updates on Tiger's progress, upcoming concerts and shows, and now job and academic opportunities, Why There Are No Girls in San Francisco never fails to draw a few laughs and agreed upon epiphanies. I visit the assertive site once every so often to further remind myself not to take the dynamics between men and women too seriously.

The day I got back from snowboarding with a special someone in Tahoe, I had to drop off the rental SUV close to Union Square and head back to Pac Heights to move my parent's old Mercedes in order to prevent getting a $53 parking ticket. (Yes, the price has gone up in the city - they get us again.) As I stood on the sidewalk trying to flag a taxi, I noticed the light changed and a yellow cab came flying at me from across the street. I opened the door, and the driver did a quick clean of the backseat so I had room to sit. He looked back at me, smiled, and said "Hi, how are you today?" Oh cool, a friendly driver - I love these guys! I told him how my day was going and how tired I was from the weekend and from the trip I had taken. We started talking about the countries I had visited, and he asked me all of the usual questions I'd heard from friends and family over the last week. I asked him where he was from (turns out he is from Jordan), found out that he had only started driving recently because it allowed him to bring in a higher income than his previous job, he was in his thirties, and that he is now into Asian girls. Wait, rewind...how did I come to know about his little fetish, you ask?

Rami: Wait, before you get out of car, I need to tell you something.
Me: Okay...
Rami: I just had conversation with my sister not long ago. I tell her - I am sick of other women. I need to find myself Asian girlfriend.
Me: (Laughing) Ha, why's that?
Rami: The other women, they are so....these days. If I find Asian girl to date - they treat me good, they respect me. I think this is what I need.
Me: But what if they aren't all like that? You know, many Asian girls are more modern now and you might be surprised if you meet one that will make you think you are dating an American. What if that happens - won't you be disappointed if you go looking for just one type of woman?
Rami: No, I don't think so. I used to have Korean girlfriend. We were for 1 year. It didn't last, but she was so good to me. That's why from now on, I date Asian girl. When I first saw you standing there, I said to myself, no one is going to drive her home but me. That's why I drove so fast to pick you up. I give you my number so we can go on date. If you ever want to smoke a joint, just call me.
Winnie: (Mortified, but still laughing) Um, okay. Thank you. Have a great day, Rami.

Has the dating scene in San Francisco gotten so stale that cab drivers are now asking their passengers out on dates? I can never decide whether this city is most ideal for singles or people in relationships. I guess it doesn't have to be one way or the other. Many people never want to leave this 7x7 nook because it's likely that it accommodates both sides of the spectrum. Having been both single and in relationships within the last 3 years, I don't recall having complained about the lack of quality men nor the variety of venues in which to meet them in the city. So why is it that the author of the blog, Rami, and many of my single male friends are always griping about how there aren't any cool girls around, and if there are, they're usually taken? I think we all need to stop being so picky. I mean - never, never, ever settle for less than you deserve. But really, I think we need to start giving people 2nd chances. There have been multiple times where I've met a guy on a first date and just didn't feel any sparks. What if we went out for a second date? Would the first date nerves have gone away and would the other person's true personality come through? Who knows? I won't because I didn't go on that second date.

Next time you meet someone of the opposite sex, don't write them off so quickly. You never know what they could mean to you in the future.

A New Direction

In an attempt to pursue a profession that would enable me to interact with individuals, groups, and organizations whom each have a story to tell (and the world would benefit from hearing their stories), I am seeking Journalism and Documentary Filmmaking as career prospects. Having been back in the U.S. for a week, the pressure to research academic programs, as well as freelance work and internships has crept up on me.

Because I have little, actually no, experience in these fields, I know it's going to be a challenge to present my proposals to organizations seeking writers and production interns. I'm currently applying to internships and part-time positions in San Francisco, but if you know of any opportunities that might be of interest, please pass them my way.

Thank you!

Dedicating this blog to my beautiful, loving, full of life Aunt who left us today. May she rest in peace and may her wonderful daughters and husband live long, happy, and fulfilling lives.

I love you, Aunt Kitty.

Highlights

Since returning a few days ago, a few people have asked me, "What are some of the most memorable moments during your trip in Southeast Asia?" While a whole series of events flash through my mind when I hear that, I do have some favorite memories that I'll share with you here.

1) Nate and I starting a dance party/limbo competition/congo line on the beach with our muay thai trainers, new British and Swedish friends we had met earlier that day, and other tipsy patrons enjoying "buckets" at Lotus Bar's happy hour in Koh Tao.

2) Nate, Wendy, and I beer garden-ing and clubbing with Bangkok locals after a group of university students invited us over to their table to help them finish off their Singha "towers."

3) Riding a rusty, worn-down bike before the sunrise to see Angkor Wat.

4) Smoking what was sold as Cubans and contemplating the meaning of friendship, the complexities of marriage, and the anticipation about the future with Nate in Siem Reap. (If you only saw the flow charts we drafted in my Moleskin. I still laugh every time I flip to those pages.)

5) Meeting Bahn in Sapa and freezing my butt off trekking up to the mountain homestay.

6) Eating Bun Cha for almost every meal in Hanoi.

7) Meeting the Australian cougar at Le Pub who hated me at first and then proceeded (by the end of the night) to tell me that I could move in with her whenever I wanted to visit Melbourne. She could (in a slurred voice) "help make it happen," because her and I were "the same."

8) Recovering from whatever mosquito-bourne disease I had in Ho Chi Minh City.

9) Finally seeing my mom and meeting the extended family in Surabaya. The nicest people you could ever meet.

10) Lombok and my very own 5 cougars who treated me as one of their own. (Does that make me a bobcat?)

11) Happy Cafe

12) Dancing (more like moshing) with the eccentric, elder, local HK guy who's a regular at Peele Fresca

I'm sure there's more, but those are the first that come to mind. I still don't believe it's almost been three months. What's next? you might ask. Well, I guess I can tell you when I see you.

Good night, and signing off. For now.

HK, I will see you later...

Originally, I was to stay in Hong Kong until the end of January. I hadn't booked a return flight, but figured I'd fly back along with my mom who was leaving on the 26th. When news of the critical condition my aunt was in came over from the States, we knew we had to leave early to support my dad, grandma, and my aunt's family. Thus my mom left on the 18th, and I the day after.

My self-assigned photo project would have to wait, as a week was too brief to document what I think truly portrays life in Hong Kong.

I was able to spend a lot of time visiting more family and even got a few chances to meet up with my good friend Alexandra whom I met in the dorms during our first year at UCSB. We've been close since, but because she lives down in LA and I'm up in SF, it's not often we see each other. Hell, she didn't even know that my ex and I had parted ways in 2008!

We met for dinner at a Shanghai restaurant in Tong Loi Wan (aka Causeway Bay) and then headed to the Soho district for drinks after. (Soho is an area lined with intimate little bars, restaurants, art galleries, and design studios. Somewhat modern, bohemian, and so very inviting.) She knew of a place called Peele Fresca and mentioned they had Latin night on Thursdays, so we decided to check it out. We danced salsa, drank sangria, befriended the band, and took a few shots with the locals sitting next to us. I quickly remembered how much fun I have when she is around.

What I was disappointed about not being witness to was the protest that was carried out in HK's Central district during the first few days I was there. Many students and liberal residents were violently defending the small village community in Choi Yuen Tsuen that would be affected by the construction of a new railway line. The villagers are being ordered to vacate their homes (with promise of compensation) in order to make way for this new line that would link China's Guangzhou and Shenzhen to HK's commercial hub. About a week ago, lawmakers in HK approved funding (approx. $66.9 billion HKD, which is $8.6 bil USD) for the rail line. The thousands of protesters and local authorities quickly escalated to violence, but fortunately, it only lasted for a day. When I asked my relatives what the popular opinion on this opposition was, they expressed that this was just another way for people to gain momentum on public opposition towards the local government and many individuals were using this specific instance as a vehicle to express their encompassing views. Supporters of the proposal argue that this link will place HK in a strategically positive position with China - by creating more job opportunities, decreasing the time it takes to travel between the three cities, and "helping to reinforce Hong Kong’s status as a transport, financial and commercial hub of China," according to a press release published by the HK government back in October. Do the benefits outweigh the costs? Most likely. It still would have been interesting to hear directly from the people who participated in this event.

One thing I did do, and it's something my family and I always do when we come back, is go to see an HK film. I chose Bodyguards and Assassins, which was recommended to me by a flamboyant hairdresser I met at a salon. When I asked him to tell me what it was about, he said it clarified a small portion of Hong Kong history. That's all it took for me to write down the name and head over to the theater to buy a ticket.

The film was about a sole group of patriotic individuals who plotted to help Dr. Sun Yat-Sen (regarded as the nation's founding father) arrive and depart HK safely, avoiding the wrath of assassins hired by the Empress of the Qing Dynasty. It's set in 1906 and portrays the people's earnest hope for a revolution. The political leader and influential revolutionary was self-exiled and living in Tokyo at the time, however, had plans to meet with 13 delegates from Mainland China to discuss a unified uprising to overthrow the Qing Dynasty. The fickle role of the British Empire, the sacrifices made for the greater good of China, and the fact that this movie was based on actual individuals and events made this film worth watching. What struck me about this film was the fact that I, as well as many other HK locals it turns out, had no idea this group existed. The group who provided protection to Dr. Yat-Sen consisted of a businessman, his son, a scholar and activist, rickshaw pullers, a hawker, and a beggar.

When I told my dad about this movie, he told me that as a child, he had the leader's picture taped up on his wall by his headboard so that every morning, he could bow to him before leaving for school. He had the utmost respect for this man, and I had only heard of him less than a handful of times before now. Our conversation inspired me to take Chinese history more seriously and try to better understand the events that led the country to be what it is today.

During the end of my trip, a friend emailed me to ask whether I was sad that the end was near. I try not to look at it that way. I feel that this may just be the beginning. I know that many travels lay ahead of me, so to answer her question, no, I'm not sad. I'm excited for what is to come, because I have learned what makes me happiest. I feel passionate about meeting people and hearing their stories and making that connection. What that is going to lead to, I'm not sure yet. I just know that I am headed in the right direction, and it feels really good.

*Being lazy and don't feel like uploading the pictures I took in Hong Kong. You should be able to view the album on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2451225&id=3612943&l=2a510c8435. Thanks for looking.

Lombok

I fell so hard for this little island, I don't even want to tell you about it.

OK, I'll share a little... but promise not to tell anyone, ok?

Knowing that I was planning on staying in Lombok for three days on my own, my Yee Yee (Cantonese for Aunt) Jean, several of her best friends, sister-in-law, and cousin Faye decided to join me. It was going to be a girls' weekend. Me and a handful of sassy Chinese-Indonesian women in their 40s and 50s. Meow!

Lombok is situated to the northeast of Bali, a 25-minute flight or 2-hour ride by fast boat or ferry. Since it's fairly undeveloped - a refreshing departure from the more popular island - with clean white sand beaches and views for days, I suspect it will become a prime location for high-end resorts and boutique hotels in the next few years.

The population here is mostly Muslim, thus as a way of respecting their conservative way of life, things get even more quiet by dusk. The only places that one would seek for a night cap and live music are along the coast of Sengiggi, where most of the major resorts are. I happened to go to a place called Happy Cafe on my 2nd night in Lombok and had such a good time talking with the locals, as well as ex-pats, and listening to the cover band play Tom Petty, Bob Marley, and everything in between. When I asked Heru, the young tan bartender who makes staggeringly strong caipirinhas (trust me on this one), to request Kings of Leon, they played Welcome to My Paradise and dedicated the song to me in front of the audience. (Turns out, they didn't know all of the lyrics to KOL songs.)

Because Jean had lived here for two years when Annie was still working, she knew all of the best places to eat, the most secluded beaches to visit, and how to avoid getting ripped off. She had numerous friends who owned their own business and would send us off with treats to take on the road. Needless to say, it was on Lombok where I gained the most weight. These women LOVED to eat. Almost every time we stepped out of the car, they would buy snacks and gifts to take back to Surabaya. By the time I left Lombok, I had no appetite.

Over the course of several days, we tried to do a lot. We went to one of the oldest villages on Lombok, called Sade. We also picnic-ed at different beaches, once at Ah An and another at Mawun. These coves were stunning, and I could count on one hand how many other people were there, if any. Most of the locals that were there were these little brown kids in their birthday suits jumping into the surf and playing games with each other that I didn't understand. We also made our way over to another smaller island off Lombok, Gili Trawanan, to explore the reef along the coast. Since we arrived at Gili T in the afternoon, I didn't have enough time to go diving again, so opted to snorkel instead (I know, once you go diving, snorkeling is like playing for JV). Supposedly Gili Meno is the best of the three major Gilis. I'll save that one for next time.

When flying from Bali to Lombok, or vice versa, keep in mind that Merpati (one of the primary airlines serving both destinations) is notorious for delayed flights. This is important to note if you have connecting flights post landing on either islands and need to board your next flight during a small window of time.

Bali

Having arrived in Bali, on the first day, I was greeted by Bagus (pronounced Ba-goos), a local driver hired by one of my relatives in Surabaya. Bagus was to help me out for the week and drive with me to different locations on the island (this is the sole result of having an overprotective family in a foreign country). Of course, I'm not used to having someone drive me in the States as I've had my own license since the age of 16 and a service like this is not something I could afford (nor would opt for) back home, so I wasn't comfortable with the idea of viewing Bagus as a personal "chauffeur." During the five days I stayed on Bali, I have Bagus to thank for introducing me to a plethora of new Indonesian and international music (having been oblivious to what's playing on radio stations and TV for the last two months). Surprisingly, he and his parents are huge fans of country music (think Billy Ray Cyrus, Tim McGraw, Dolly Parton) and on multiple occasions started belting out "Achy Breaky Heart" at the top of his lungs while we were riding in the car. I'm not a particular fan of the genre, but seeing his enthusiasm made me join him every single time. He called me nothing but Winnie-san the first few days since he speaks Japanese fluently and told me he thought I was Japanese when we first met. He even told me how much it usually costs to get out of a speeding ticket (1000 rupiah). I'd like to think we had fun getting to know each other that week.

Kuta

I stayed in an area called Legian the first night at a place called 14 Roses on the main drag. Legian is situated in between Kuta (the international party scene - think raucous beefcake Aussies with their shirts off) and Seminyak (a quiet, more sophisticated, and ultimately mature area featuring swanky restaurants, luxurious lounges, and intimate nooks and crannies). In many ways, it falls within the two in terms of characteristics. (If you're traveling alone, like I was, Legian is likely your best bet as you'll have the opportunity to meet people just down the street towards Kuta, but not feel overwhelmed being in the heart of it all.) 14 Roses is considered a midrange, affordable option for accomodation - a night there runs about $60 (in the high season) for a large single room with a pool and garden view.

I actually wasn't a big fan of Kuta. Walking on the beach, I had to step over a number of dead fish that had washed up to shore. When I asked Bagus about this, he said this was an effect of the pollution coming over from Java. I also wasn't fond of the notion that you have to pay at least 30,000 Indonesian rupiah (approx. $3 USD) to use a lounge chair on beachfront property for an hour. If you like the Cancun scene, and you don't mind partying with Arnolds (in his early days) and bleach-bottle blondes, Kuta is for you. For me, it was basically a shit show. The only night I spent out in Kuta that I would write home about was when I went to Apache, a reggae club that had great live music, a resident DJ, and a very mixed crowd. I actually accompanied a friendly waiter I had met at the place I had dinner at that night close to my hotel. Since Apache was right down the street, and I asked if we could walk as opposed to getting on his bike, I felt fairly safe. It turned out to be really fun, so if you're planning to go to Bali anytime soon, make Apache your first stop on a weekend night. (Just try to stay away from consuming too many "jam jars," which are the equivalent to "buckets" in Koh Tao. Many Balinese are fond of Arak, a rice spirit usually mixed with a fruit drink. You'll see an "Arak Attack" on almost every menu.)

It's funny - when you go to a local store and buy something, you may notice that the shop owner will take your cash and touch it to against other nearby products to ensure that he receives more business that day. I don't know why, but I really liked that. Just something to remind you that you're not in Kansas anymore.

For the second and third nights, I stayed at Hendrick's (Annie's husband) best friend's home in Kuta, which was in a more residential part of the city. Here, you actually see the daily activities that don't entail catering to the tourist community. In the mornings, you can witness men and women at the nearby temple making basket offerings that include cash, flowers, rice, and other foods, countless warung getting ready to serve their regular customers for the day, and young children in burgundy and white uniforms riding in the front of their mother or father's motorbikes headed for school. In the Kuta or even Legian stretch of southwest Bali, tourists are just getting up struggling with hangovers from the night before, looking to ease their headaches by consuming yet more cocktails and beer on the terraces of bars on the main road. In San Francisco, we call that brunch.

Jimbaran
For the remaining two nights, I stayed in Jimbaran at Hotel Puri Bambu. I only knew to stay there because my grand uncle, aunt, mom, and grandma stayed there a few weeks before me and they recommended it for its price, service, and proximity to the ocean and variety of fresh seafood. I checked in and immediately knew it was a good decision. A traditional hour-long Balinese oil massage only put me behind $5, not including the tip. The midrange room rate includes a daily breakfast of Indonesian dishes and fruit buffet, access to the shuttle that goes to and from Kuta beach, and the tranquility of being tucked away in a little alley only a few minutes walk from the beach. After having spent the majority of my trip in places where I checked under the sheets each night for bed bugs, this was a treat.

You can get ikan bakar (grilled fish) anywhere along the beach here, whether it be at the fancier restaurants where you pick the size and type or the catch of the day slung at the seafood market a little north of the hotel. I chose Blue Ocean to try their grilled red snapper, fried calamari, and a cold Bintang.

Etc.
Between laying in the sun and eating fresh food, Bagus and I did get a lot done in the matter of a few days. We went to Uluwatu, the southern tip of Bali where an ancient temple sits atop a cliff above rocky shores. Here, monkeys are especially notorious for their aggressive antics and interaction with people, so we put away our sunglasses, made sure we didn't have food in our bags, and kept my camera under wraps. We continued up north to visit Tanah Lot, another temple that lies on the western coast of the island. (Indonesians sure know how to kick back even when they're paying respect to the spirit gods...)

We finally made our way to Ubud, which I'd anticipated visiting since reading a memoir called Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. If you're female, you've most likely read this book and vowed to go on a journey of self exploration, such did the author, through Italy, India, and Indonesia. (Julia Roberts, to portray Elizabeth in the onscreen adaptation, was actually in town shooting while we were there. Didn't see Ms. Roberts, unfortunately.) In the book, Elizabeth befriends a Balinese healer (what Westerners would recognize as an herbal doctor) who becomes a primary character in the last third of the book. I told Bagus I wanted to meet Wayan Nuriasih so I could talk to her about creating some jamu to bring back to my mom, so I showed him the address listed in the Bali Rough Guide Nate so kindly lent me before leaving SE Asia last month, and we went on a mission to find her shop. After almost an hour of driving around and stopping to ask for directions, we came to the front of her home and asked a teenage boy sitting on the steps whether she lived or worked here or both. He pointed us in the direction of the street where her shop was, and we set off again. When I got out of the car, I was surprised to see that it wasn't packed with tourists, as I expected most of Elizabeth's audience would come to pay homage to Wayan. The walls of her shop were covered with exotic herbs, roots, and powders in clear glass jars. Apparently, since the book was published in 2006, business has boomed and many of the locals, as well as foreign visitors, flock to her shop for special massages, treatments, and natural remedies. I wanted to talk to her before making a purchase, but was informed that she was booked for the day. Her assistant gave me his mobile number so I could reach him to schedule an appointment later in the week, but I really didn't have much time so I bought a packet of tablets for my grandpa's arthritis and left. Should have known her services would be popular.

Ubud's claim to fame isn't just due to Wayan's popularity. It's been long considered an artist's haven and looking around, you will understand why (it may even remind you of Berkeley with it's hippie atmostphere and laid back vibe). It's lush setting among forested hills and wet rice fields provide shelter for craftsmen, carvers, and artists alike. It's a rewarding getaway from the chaos that is south Bali. Ubud is also famous for the various babi guling joints found all over town. Babi guling is a dish that consists of slices of roasted pork, pork skin, and Balinese spices served with shrimp chips over rice. If you ask me, Chinese-style roasted pork tastes much more flavorful, but when in Ubud, right?

One of my favorite activities was mountain biking with a group of Australians and a local guide from Bali Bintang. We were picked up from our hotels early in the morning and shuttled to a coffee and tea plantation near Kintamani for product tasting and breakfast. We then spent 3 hours biking downhill on backroads towards the direction of a village called Pejeng, in central Bali. Riding through several alleys where angry stray dogs barked and growled at your feet, I regretted not getting a rabies shot at the travel health clinic in SF. The ride allowed for some breathtaking views and we were able to stop and meet people along the way, stopping even at Wayan's (our guide) own village to say hello to his friends and pass by the home where he grew up. I should forewarn you about the downhill nature of the ride. You'll be using your brakes constantly and your forearms will be sore from intensely gripping the handlebars for 3 hours, so it can be tiring.

My last night on Bali called for a very unique experience. I rode on the back of a friend's motorbike, in the rain, to a multi-level dance club and karaoke venue called Asakasa in Denpasar. Walking in, I didn't know what to expect. The club only saw local patrons, so I was the only non-Indonesian inside. Once in, I was asked to pay a cover and leave my camera inside a locker to be picked up upon leaving. (I know, I know. I had stuffed my D40 into my purse that night knowing I was going to a club. Call me crazy, but I didn't want to miss anything in case something good happened.) The house music thumped so loudly I thought my heart was going to explode. There were creepy looking older men who were dancing up front where there was a large stage, watching several go-go girls who wore nothing but a lacy bra and underwear. I have nothing against voyeurismn, but I wasn't sure this was my style. We stayed for a little while longer, but I decided to call it a night once 1:30 rolled around.

Overall, I feel that I was able to experience multiple sides of Bali. While it is a tourist destination on the southeast Asian route, you can still find places where the people aren't going to try to sell you something and meet individuals who are genuinely interested in talking to you and exchanging perspectives. It's definitely a place I'd like to explore more of in the future.

How could I ever sum up Bali in a blog post?

I can't. I can try, but I know I would not do this island justice. I simply don't want to leave. I'm regretting that I booked my flight to Hong Kong on the 10th. I guess that just means I'll have to come back at some point in the future...;)

Even though Aaron, Liana, and Samantha could not meet up with me (as hoped), I have enjoyed every minute of my time here.

I will write about my five days in Bali, but not just yet. Just wanted to post up a few pictures to give you an idea of what it's like. (I'll post more when in HK...blogger takes too much time to upload images.)

Enjoy!


In Kintamani, the village outside of Gunung Batur, the still active volcano...
Ceremony for the dead...

As my friend Liana would say, the "obnoxious" monkeys at Uluwatu temple in southern Bali...


Tanah Lot. Bagus turned out to be quite the photographer...

Many Indonesians make pilgrimages here throughout the year to visit the holy temple and springs...



Bagus and I were doused with holy water and a priest (?) placed small grains of rice on our foreheads as a sign of blessing...

Tanah Lot at Sunset...


Ubud....Bagus and I ended up driving all over one side of town looking for a woman named Wayan Nuriasih, the traditional Balinese healer from Elizabeth Gilbert's memoir Eat, Pray, Love. Her home was in this neighborhood...

I truly believe that the Balinese can balance anything, and I mean anything on their heads...

Across the street from my hotel in Jimbaran...



Two friendly fishermen who allowed me to get up close and personal...

A Balinese fisherman's livelihood...

The Keraton further down south of Jimbaran Bay...

The most beautiful woman in Bali. She was collecting shells to sell...
Dinner on the beach at Jimbaran's Langsam Cafe (you choose the size and type of seafood that you want grilled, caught fresh from the day's catch)...

Signature Balinese Kecak "Monkey" Dance and Gamelan music...

Coffee and tea sampling with mountain biking Aussies at a plantation near Kintamani...Ginseng coffee was particularly flavorful. Did not enjoy the civet cat poop coffee...

Wayan, our amicable cycling guide happily rolling a tobacco joint...


Before I took the photo of this 2 year-old girl, she was holding what looked like a mini-machete, assisting her grandma with making baskets for temple offerings...

Kids from Pejeng village...they seemed to be fond of shouting "allo (hello)!" and giving us high fives as we rode through...

No, I did not plan on matching the cycling gloves they gave us...