Quite Recently In A Galaxy Not So Far Away ...

Two Journeys Home

2006-04-24T16:13:00.000+09:00

On Tuesday, March 28th, 2006, I was making preparations for my flight home to Canada. Working as an English teacher, I had spent the greater part of the last three years in Busan, South Korea. Leaving would be bittersweet. With only two days remaining in Korea, the excitement of returning home was overshadowed by the reality of leaving behind great friends.

On my last day of work I savored all the idiosyncrasies of my students which, on any other day, might have irritated me, but today were more than welcome. I assured them that my replacement would be every bit the consummate professional and sometime 'game-player' that I had been. With a final round of goodbyes and a generous parting gift of traditional Korean masks, I left behind my job and coworkers.

On Tuesday, March 28th, 2006, Private Robert Costall died. Serving with the 1st Battalion, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry in Afghanistan, he suffered fatal injuries in a firefight with insurgents in an area northwest of Kandahar.

On Thursday, March 30th, I woke up from a fitful sleep on an airport bench at Kensai International Airport in Osaka, Japan. After a short hop from Busan to Osaka I was in the process of passing a five hour layover. I boarded my Air Canada flight to Vancouver at 5:00pm and felt like it was the first step of my reimmersion into Canadian culture after another 13 months away: The cabin announcements were in English and French, the inflight CBC broadcast showed images of a sunken ferry in Northern British Columbia, the movie satisfied Canadian content requirements, and the front page of the Globe and Mail displayed the face of Canada's most recent military casualty in Afghanistan, Private Robert Costall, his eyes small in the bright sun.

At noon on April 1st the remains of Private Robert Costall were repatriated to the Canadian Forces Base at Trenton Ontario. For the time being, this would be the last occasion on which the media would be invited to view and record the return of a flag draped casket to Canadian soil. (Under a new and controversial Conservative Party policy, the media will now be banned when the bodies of military casualties are returned to Canada. As well, the flags on Peace Tower in Ottawa will no longer be lowered to half mast on such occasions. The rationale for the latter being that all military casualties will be honored equally on November 11th, Rememberance Day. As Ottawa's policies on military deaths grow closer in line with Washington's, debate has begun to brew in the media, in Parliament, and among the citizens of Canada.)

On Tuesday, April 4th I exited a Malaspina Coachlines bus onto the lower cardeck of the Horseshoe Bay - Langdale ferry.

After arriving in Vancouver on March 30th I had spent a busy five days staying with my brother and reuniting with old friends. My brother and I watched the Canucks lose in a shoot out to Minnesota after an exhilarating 65 minutes of play. Plenty of storytelling and catching up was done over food and beers.

As I climbed the flights of stairs to the passengers levels of the ferry the door to the upper car deck swung open. Through the opening I saw the unmistakably shape and colour of a hearse surrounded by a large group of people in military uniforms. In Canada, unlike the United States, each military death is the subject of national attention. This hearse, with its military escort, was unmistakably carrying the body of Private Robert Costall to his home in Gibsons, B.C.

Enjoying the view of ocean and mountains from the upper deck of the ferry I could also look down on to the open front of the upper car deck. The young men and a few women who made up the military escort posed together for photos then broke up to enter the passenger decks.

As the horn blew to announce our departure a man dressed in plain clothes and looking clearly distraught approached the hearse. The lone soldier standing at ease near the back of the car approached him. It was obvious that he was a friend of the deceased young soldier and was overcome with emotion at the sudden shock of being on the same ferry. The soldier embraced the man and offered some words of comfort before leading him over to the hearse. As he opened the rear door the proud red and white of the Canadian flag flashed in the bright afternoon sun. The man leaned in and touched the flag draped coffin of a friend he would never get to say goodbye to. Shaken, he was escorted away from the hearse and shared some conversation with the soldier.

As I looked out at the scene before me many thoughts filled my mind. The contrast between the beautiful scenery of the coast and the grim, black hearse looking out over it was striking. I thought about my self and the young soldier lying dead in the hearse. Both young men around the same ages from the same part of the world. A week ago we had been worlds apart in different countries for different purposes. Circumstances, mine happy and his tragic, had brought us to that ferry on that day as we returned to our homes and our families. A lot of rhetoric flies around about the wars taking place in the world and the role of soldiers in those conflicts. Looking around at the towering, snow capped mountains and vast waters around me, I thought of what I would get to experience and he wouldn't: a happy return to my home. While I had certainly been looking forward to that, it seemed to take on more significance. To me, Private Robert Costall's choice to enter a life which, in the end, robbed him of that happy return home, was true and selfless bravery.

Life in South Korea: An Alphabetical Photo Essay (A through L)

2006-03-30T16:56:00.000+09:00

After three years in South Korea I may not be an expert, but I feel qualified enough to pass on a little of what I've learned while here. Although my time working in Korea has drawn to a close I'm sure I'll be back visiting soon enough. Until then, I threw together this alphabetical photo essay for anyone who will be working in, traveling to, or is just curious about life in South Korea. Here is the first of two installments. M-Z to follow soon.

Alcohol: An ever present aspect of life in Korea. Whether you consume it or not, you're sure to be in it's presence often and see its casualties around the streets late at night or very early in the morning. The most popular drink is arguably Soju which is commonly served with meals. There are a number of other Korean alcohols to choose from including Dong-dong Ju and Bek Se Ju. Mek Ju (beer) as well as whisky are also popular. There is a set of customs which accompany drinking and are dictated by age. It's not totally necessary to learn these but I would recommend it if you'll be drinking and/or eating with Koreans.

Bali, Bali!: This expression which literally means 'Fast Fast' or 'Hurry up!' underlies a great deal of Korean culture. From the country's amazing economic growth to a rush to get on the subway, the spirit of speed can be felt and seen wherever you go. Some have even attributed recently disgraced stem-cell expert Hwang Woo-Seok's fabrication of results to the pressure of Bali, Bali culture.

Blood type: Do you know yours? I don't but it wasn't something I really thought much about before being asked by half the students I teach. Blood Type is considered a major personality determinant in Korea. B-types are notorious and not recommended as a romantic partner unless you're up for a challenge.

Cell phone: You may try to resist these modern day slave collars. Land lines and e-mail may seem sufficient for the demands of staying in touch and co-ordinating social activities. This illusion will soon evaporate. Living in a city of 4 million, once you leave your house, it can be a major chore trying to contact someone or arrange plans. Public pay phones are hard to come by. Cellular service plans are cheap and there are plenty of new and used models available. As a member of the ex-pat community you'll likely meet someone who is leaving the country and parting with their phone. You may be ashamed to show it to your 9 year old students who have the latest mp3, digital camera, internet gaming model, but it'll serve you well to have one.

Development: It's hard to walk down the street without passing a construction site or seeing the cranes and scaffolding of a new apartment development rising above the skyline. The speed at which new buildings shoot up or new businesses are installed can be mind boggling. Sometimes you will walk down the street and notice an enormous new shadow that was formerly not there. Looking up, you will see that the culprit is a five story building. This is a visual manifestation of the continuing growth of Korea's economy. The result in Busan, the only city not to suffer the devastation of the Korean War, is a stark contrast between new and old. Sky scraping luxury apartments loom over sprawling traditional Korean houses and older low rise buildings. You will probably live in one of the latter.

Education: Taking its roots in the underlying Confucian social structure of Korea, a high esteem for education seems to have become a mania. Chances are you are working as an English instructor in the countries numerous hogwans (private academies). English is only one of the subjects which students study after finishing their regular school day. In an effort to keep pace with every other student in the country, parents send their children to music, math, and science academies to name but a few. It's not uncommon to see students being dropped off at home at 11:00pm.

Film: While a great deal of Hollywood movies and some other foreign fare can be seen at local cinema, the domestic film industry is growing at an amazing rate. With OldBoy taking second place at the 2004 Cannes film festival and films like Taeguki, Silmido and Welcome to Dongmakgol smashing domestic box office records, the popularity and creativity of Korean films are hotter than ever. The long simmering North/South Korean conflict is popular fodder for screen writers and has produced both brilliant movies and total duds. Romantic comedies also devour a large chunk of box office dollars and seemed to be churned out almost as prolifically as those in the U.S. The one drawback is that, quite obviously, Korean films shown in movie theaters do not run English subtitles. To my knowledge there are three solutions to this problem. The first is to become fluent in Korean. The second is to watch a movie with a Korean friend who is proficient in English and have them translate it to you (unfortunately, even at a whisper this tends to irritate nearby theater-goers). The third and most viable option is to wait for the DVD release. The gap between the theatrical release date and the time a movie is available for rental or purchase on DVD is significantly shorter than in North America. Also, every Korean film released on DVD is available with English subtitles.

Ginseng: This potent root has a position of great respect in Korea. It can be found in a number of varieties at shops which deal exclusively in ginseng and ginseng related products. Among its many healthy effects is a supposed boost to 'stamina'. To eliminate any confusion the word 'stah mee nah' is used in Korea to refer almost exclusively to sexual stamina.

Hangul: The Korean alphabet is considered to be one of the most scientific in the world. Consisting of 14 consonants and 10 vowels, the alphabet was created by King Sejong in the mid 1400's and is the main reason that illiteracy in Korea is at such a low level. It is incredibly simple to learn and would probably not take you more than a week or two to master reading. Of course, reading is much less than half the battle. To master the Korean language you'll need to learn all the grammar and vocabulary that make up any language. One interesting thing you might notice once you're able to read is that a lot of words written in Hangul are actually English words. "Een tah net", "See neh ma", "Pee jja" to name a few.

Internet: South Korea is the most wired nation in the world with high speed access to over 70% of households. PC bangs, rooms full of computers with internet access are everywhere. Most operate to accommodate the huge popularity of online role playing games, but many visitors can be seen surfing the internet. Cyworld.com is a popular service that offers personal websites on which you display pictures and personal thoughts as well as receive notes from friends and other guests. You're nobody in Korea if you don't have a Cyworld page.

Japan: Excluding North Korea, Japan is South Korea's nearest neighbor. While geographically close, the two countries seem to constantly be at odds with each other. The Japanese occupation in the first half of the twentieth century, and the ensuing sexual slavery of young Korean women by Japanese soldiers, is an enduring sore point and something for which Japan has never formally apologized. Although the two nations co-hosted the 2002 World Cup, their bitter rivalry has been reignited over historically inaccurate Japanese textbooks and the rightful possession of Dok-do Island (Takeshima to the Japanese). Most Koreans will have a lot to say about the subject of Japan.

Kimchi: This staple food of Korea is likely to be served with nearly every meal. Cabbage leaves fermented in red pepper paste, this spicy dish is thought to have shielded Korea from the SARS epidemic. In fact, there is evidence that it has positive effects on respiratory health. Eat your kimchi and you'll probably earn at least a little respect in Korea.

Language: If you're living in Korea there is a good chance it's because you're teaching a language. Namely, English. You may also choose to learn the Korean language to aid in your daily interactions or perhaps to impress the female population. Language will no doubt play a part in your daily life and can provide as many opportunities as it does barriers.

The Paper Cups

2006-02-23T20:21:00.000+09:00

Every week at school, my students are required to write a one page diary entry. While some consider one sentence and a massive picture enough to satisfy this requirement, others produce some excellent writing which gives a little insight into what kids think about. Here's an example of an interesting story by Sandy (Heo Eun Sil) in my 2C Writing Class. She's 12 years old and has studied English for about three years:

The Paper Cups

One day, in the newspaper factory, there were two newspapers. They wanted to be great and beautiful paper cups. And a man took them and read them. And he put them in the separation removal box. They were sad. They were taken to a strange factory and they became paper cups! Then, they had another dream. That was: they wanted to have a beautiful pattern on their body. But one paper cup got a great pattern, but the other one got a common pattern. Then a man took them on to his table. And he was smoking. He put cigarette butts into the great pattern papercup. It was sad. And the other paper cup felt nervous. But the man poured water into it. He was thirsty. And he drank all the water in it, he said "Now, I'm not thirsty. Thank you paper cup." The common pattern paper cup was happy, and he learned, 'The way they look isn't important, deep down insides is all that is important.'*

*bonus points for having a moral

Daeboreum

2006-02-13T18:12:00.000+09:00

On January 29th, 2006, the Year of the Rooster gave way to the Year of the Dog. Two weeks later, on February 12th, the first full moon of the new year graced the clear night skies over Busan, South Korea. This event was met with many festivities and is called Daeboreum.

Haeundae Beach, summer tourist magnet and considered by many to be Korea's best beach, is often the epicenter of cultural celebrations. On Daeboreum it again played host to locals and foreigners gathered to partake in or simply watch the festivities.

The first sight to greet me when I arrived at the beach in the early afternoon was an enormous mountain of branches and brush piled four stories high. This bonfire-to-be and a nearby stage were roped off to prevent the milling crowds from getting to close. One side of the fire pile, however, was accessible and I watched as people lined up, entered a hollow cavity within the over sized kindling, and then emerged to attach pieces of white cloth onto protruding branches. These, I assumed, were wishes which would be incinerated in the fire and float up to the skies.

The line of people waiting to visit the fire-pile extended several hundreds of feet down the beach and seemed to be growing rather than shrinking. The inferno would not be taking place for some time. I strolled the beach and joined groups of people who had assembled to watch sand sculptors practice their craft on the living canvas of Haeundae Beach. Armed with simple tools that included a watering can and a small broom, these artists were able to conjure incredible results from the once formless sand. The most impressive depicted the serene face of Buddha, massive ears drooping at its sides.

At the opposite end of the beach, a kite flying competition was taking place. In fact everywhere you looked kites of all shapes and sizes jockeyed for position in the afternoon sun, their operators working intently to keep them airborne. The competitive kites however, were a different breed. Their spindles were large wooden cages around which a surprisingly long line was spooled. They certainly took more skill to handle. I watched as the competitors, exclusively older Korean men, deftly maneuvered the kites. An official was on hand to blow the whistle and enforce what rules there were. At times the winner was the man with his kite flying at the farthest distance, while at other times the lines became crossed and eventually one was severed, leaving the loser's kite to drift defeatedly into the ocean.

As dusk gathered and my hunger increased, I met some friends for dinner overlooking the beach. About halfway through our meal the fire was ignited and many of the diners in the restaurant rushed to the deck for an excellent view of the monstrous fire. The flames brightly illuminated an open space on the sand where women in traditional Korean attired were linked in a circle performing a dance.

By the time we finished our meal and were back on the beach, the flames were out but the remains of the fire were still smoldering. Near the water people were lighting off fireworks while further up the sand, the rhythmic pounding of traditional Korean drums filled the air. Lit by green spotlights, the smoke of the dying fire wafted above, and visible beyond it in the clear black sky was the first full moon of this Year of the Dog.

A Korean man competes in the Daeboreum kite competition

A sandsculpture of Buddha's face illuminated at night

The smoldering remains of a bonfire send smoke over the sand

Radiohead: Rising To Expectations

2006-01-31T16:50:00.000+09:00

Music: High and Dry - Radiohead

I've been combing through the contents of my old computer's hard drive which are now stored on DVD. This is a paper I wrote for my Music 308: History of Rock and Roll class. I was proud of it and got a perfect grade. Enjoy:
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Radiohead: Rising to Expectations

Any rising rock and roll band has had to deal with obstacles on its way to the top. Internal squabbles, drug and alcohol abuse, and corrupt management are among a long list of factors which could turn a potential legend into yesterday’s news. For Radiohead, an innovative five piece band from Oxford, England, perhaps one of the biggest obstacles on their path towards musical recognition and a spot in rock and roll history has been expectation. After all, the band which today is often used as a benchmark against which new and innovative rock bands are compared, was once expected to be nothing more than a ‘one hit wonder’. While such a paper is not appropriate for taking on the exhaustive task of describing Radiohead’s entire career (a book would be far more appropriate and many, in fact, have been written on the subject), tracing the expectations surrounding their five major albums serves to illustrate the challenges that expectation can present for a band.

After gaining acclaim in their native Oxford under the name ‘On a Friday’ (which refers to the day they would practice), the band signed with major label Capitol, adopted the new moniker, and released their first major album titled ‘Pablo Honey’ in 1993. The album’s biggest single ‘Creep’ was an anthem for disillusionment and alienation and included lyrics such as “What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here” (Pablo Honey, track 2). Despite its rather depressing subject matter, the song garnered Radiohead huge success becoming an international hit, “it shot up the Modern Rock charts to number two” (Hale 53), and spurring a world tour to promote the album. While Radiohead’s stock seemed to be on the rise, critics were already forecasting their demise, using the ever-feared label ‘one-hit-wonder’. Although it had been their breakout song in the United States, the members of the band began to detest ‘Creep’. Lead guitarist Jonny Greenwood describes an ominous trend which had been occurring at concerts on the Creep tour, “we used to get people that would come and just leave after ‘Creep’” (Hale 58). The creative desire to come up with new material and develop musically was being quashed by record company pressures to cash in on ‘Creep’s’ success in order to boost record sales. The pressure to live up to past success and also to distance themselves from ‘Creep’ surely weighed heavily on the band as they returned to the studio to record the follow up to ‘Pablo Honey’.

In 1995 Radiohead released their highly anticipated second album ‘The Bends’. A line from the album’s title track seems to articulate what they must have been feeling while writing the album, “Where do we go from here? The words are coming out all weird” (The Bends, track 2). The response of critics was overwhelming and perhaps exactly what Radiohead wanted to hear, “Radiohead have moved on, and offer 12 examples of why they’re one of the UK’s big league, big rock assets” (Hale 75). In their true, modest fashion the band took the glowing acclaim with a sense of humor, never letting it go to their heads; “It’s four stars in quote marks. Does that mean they just swore at it?”(Hale 75) was the response of bassist Colin Greenwood. With a heavily guitar laden, hit filled album that earned them the nickname ‘Punk Floyd’, Radiohead had silenced their derisive critics and soared past even their own expectations. Although it did not have one big single which carried the album, a number of hits including ‘Just’, ‘High and Dry’, ‘Fake Plastic Trees’ and ‘Street Spirit’ helped records sales for ‘The Bends’ to surpass Pablo Honey in every single country except the US (Hale 169). In another of the album’s tracks ‘My Iron Lung’, vocalist, and lead songwriter, Thom Yorke scathingly addresses the ‘Creep’ phenomenon and the aforementioned fans who would often leave concerts once they had heard it, “This is our new song, Just like the last one, a total waste of time” (The Bends, track 8). For now, Radiohead had gained critical success and moved beyond the status of one hit wonder which so many thought they would retain. Even more so than ‘The Bends’, the release of their next album was fervently awaited by both fans and critics alike.

After delivering ‘The Bends’, which many critics grouped among their top ten albums of 1995, the expectation for Radiohead to produce a worthy successor was enormous. Still using guitars, the band did tend to lean to the experimental side while recording. After all, their huge success had the advantage of allowing the band buy “over $140,000 worth of gear” (Hale 95) which they would employ on the new album. Feeling a strong need to be free of creative constraints, the band produced the album themselves, although the presence of talented studio engineer Nigel Godrich was crucial. The result was 1997’s ‘OK Computer’ which, in general terms, dealt with the alienation of modern living and technology. The band however, was not brimming with confidence at the end of the creative process. Thom Yorke is quoted as saying, “At the 11th hour, when we realized what we had done, we had qualms about the fact that we had created this thing that was quite revolting” (Borow 120). Tracks such as the seven minute plus ‘Paranoid Android’ which includes the line “kicking, screaming, Gucci little piggy” (OK Computer, track 2) did not seem destined to be radio darlings. Any fears that the band had about the album surely vanished the minute the critics responded, “there will not be a better album released in 1997 than Radiohead's OK Computer” (Greenplastic.com). Critical response however, can be seen as only half the battle. The other challenge was meeting the expectation of fans. Good reviews from critics do not necessarily translate into impressive record sales, “critically acclaimed albums are often consigned to obscurity” (Hale 108). Radiohead were lucky as it was not only critics, but also fans that recognized ‘OK Computer’ as something truly brilliant and special. The album debuted at number one in the UK, 21 on the Billboard charts, and went platinum in the US after a year (Hale 170). Fans, it seemed, had been more than willing to go along for the ride as Radiohead ventured further from the mainstream modern rock format which had given them the success of ‘Creep’. The question then seemed to be, ‘how far would they venture and how far would fans be willing to follow?’

Given the success of ‘OK Computer’, there were widespread expectations for Radiohead to follow it up with an album built on the same premise. Once you reach the top there’s only one direction to go: down. Such a thought must have plagued members of the band as they felt the pressure from fans to come out with what might be described as a sort of ‘OK Computer 2’. Worn out from overwhelming touring and promotion schedules for ‘OK Computer’, the band retreated from public view for a while. The result would be their longest break between album releases which only served to heighten the anticipation for ‘OK Computer’s successor. In 2000, three years after the release of ‘OK Computer’, Radiohead unleashed ‘Kid A’ onto an eager public. With this album, Radiohead might have chosen a more traditional route to attempt to reproduce the warm reaction received by ‘OK Computer’. What they did however, was anything but traditional and defied expectations, “Radiohead chose to test the creative and commercial license that came with the prize” (Fricke 44). The album strayed further from the guitar based rock of ‘The Bends’ and more towards electronic gadgetry and synthesizers. Even the promotion of the album was anything but what was expected. Given their past success, Radiohead could have been seen to be at the peak of their commercial viability, yet they chose to release no singles or videos for the album. Instead, fans could download innovative animations that accompanied sounds from the album and were called Blips. Even touring was limited and done so at the leisure of the band and not the urging of the record company. Where many had expected Radiohead to stick to what had worked in the past, they instead took an entirely new route. Nigel Godrich, who stepped into the role of producer for ‘Kid A’, described the situation, “Thom really wanted to try and do everything different, and that was … bloody difficult” (Borow 112). Guitarist Ed O’Brien also lent insight into the creative process behind ‘Kid A’, “he [Thom] did know what he didn’t want it to be, which was anything that smacked of the old route” (Borow 112). Such techniques on the part of the band led to the caption on their Rolling Stone cover reading “In Order to Save Themselves Radiohead Had to Destroy Rock & Roll”. Returning to the earlier question, “how far would fans be willing to follow?”. Apparently they were more than willing to go this far as ‘Kid A’ debuted at number one in the US.

Created from the same recording sessions as ‘Kid A’, a follow up album, ‘Amnesiac’, was released only months later in June of 2001. While its opening week sales were even higher than those of ‘Kid A’, stiff competition prevented it from debuting higher than the number two spot. Representing the most recent chapter in the Radiohead story, ‘Amnesiac’ has left fans satisfied and again put the band in a position from which their next move will be eagerly awaited. As far as what fans or critics might expect in the future, the message seems clear (and pardon the cliché): expect the unexpected.

Expectation can be a force that either destroys or enriches the creative process. Tracing back Radiohead’s career through five major albums, expectation, both positive and negative, has been heaped on the band from the very start. At times they have achieved success through living up to, or exceeding expectations, while at other times it has been their refusal to give into expectations that has won them not only critical respect, but also fan support. Radiohead can certainly be said to be a band that has learned to deal with the high expectations set on them, not just by fans and critics, but also by themselves.

Works Cited

1. Borow, Zev. “The Difference Engine” Spin. November 2000: 110-120.

2. Fricke, David. “Radiohead: Making Music That Matters.” Rolling Stone. August 2, 2001: 42- 48 + 73.

3. Hale, Jonathan. Radiohead: From a Great Height. Toronto: ECW Press, 1999.

4. Watch. “OK Computer? Try Incredibly Powerful Computer!” Greenplastic Radiohead. 1997. (25 February 2002).

Discography

Pablo Honey (1993), Produced by Paul Q. Kolderie, Chris Hufford, Sean Slade.

The Bends (1995), Produced by John Leckie, Radiohead, Jim Warren, Nigel Godrich.

OK Computer (1997), Produced by Radiohead and Nigel Godrich.

Kid A (2000), Produced by Radiohead and Nigel Godrich.

Amnesiac (2001), Produced by Radiohead and Nigel Godrich.

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Some Radiohead Links:

Official Radiohead Site

Waste.com (for merchandise)

GreenPlastic.com (an excellent tribute site)

The Chief Export Of Chuck Norris Is Pain

2006-01-23T16:13:00.000+09:00

How much do you really know about the bearded, round-house kicking star of Walker Texas Ranger and the 'Total Gym' informercial? Pay a visit to this site and find out:

Chuck Norris Facts

My personal favorite: "There is no theory of evolution, just a list of creatures Chuck Norris allows to live." That should finally put an and to this whole Darwin versus Intelligent Design debate.

2006 Canadian Men's Olympic Hockey Roster

2005-12-23T01:07:00.000+09:00

After much anticipation, the members of the Canadian men's Olympic hockey team were announced today. Two days after the unveiling of an American squad which includes 12 Olympic newcomers (including all three goaltenders), Canada selected a squad of proven international veterans. The only three players not to have been at the 2002 Olympics or 2004 World Cup, Todd Bertuzzi, Rick Nash, Marty Turco, are all proven performers. Although Nash hasn't played much this season due to injury, his skills cannot be argued with.

It's good to see Bertuzzi have a shot at Olympic gold after some great seasons in Vancouver. Despite the events of 2003-2004, which still linger in the minds of some, he seems determined to associate his name with excellent hockey rather than a notorious incident. While Bertuzzi has been granted his chance, Sidney Crosby has been forced to wait until Vancouver 2010 to make his Olympic debut. I'm sure he must feel disappointment, but when the puck drops on February 15th in Turin, Italy, I'd bet he'll be chearing just as loud as every other Canadian hockey fan.

More in-depth analysis than I'm qualified to give

Here's the line-up:

Goaltenders:

Martin Brodeur (New Jersey)
Roberto Luongo (Florida)
Marty Turco (Dallas)

Defence:

Rob Blake (Colorado)
Adam Foote (Columbus)
Ed Jovanovski (Vancouver)
Scott Niedermayer (Anaheim)
Chris Pronger (Edmonton)
Wade Redden (Ottawa)
Robyn Regehr (Calgary)

Forwards:

Todd Bertuzzi (Vancouver)
Shane Doan (Phoenix)
Kris Draper (Detroit)
Simon Gagne (Philadelphia)
Dany Heatley (Ottawa)
Jarome Iginla (Calgary)
Vincent Lecavalier (Tampa Bay)
Rick Nash (Columbus)
Brad Richards (Tampa Bay)
Joe Sakic (Colorado) - Captain
Ryan Smyth (Edmonton)
Martin St-Louis (Tampa Bay)
Joe Thornton (San Jose)

Reserves:

Bryan McCabe (Toronto)
Jason Spezza (Ottawa)
Eric Staal (Carolina)

Return of S.N.L.

2005-12-20T22:37:00.000+09:00

Being overseas, I haven't had the chance to watch Saturday Night Live for a while. I used to be a loyal viewer (or at least recorder) of the show, but in recent years I watched the humour and creativity take a bit of a nosedive. Like many things in the universe, the level of hilarity on SNL occurs in cycles. Here's some proof that things are on an upswing, and that even going to a movie on a Sunday afternoon can be hardcore.

"Lazy Sunday"

Visit this link to see more projects by Andy Samberg and his friends who created this digital short:

The Lonely Island - Short home movies conceived, filmed, and edited in one day using whatever equipment is available

A Day on the Fringes of A.P.E.C.

2005-11-21T16:05:00.000+09:00

From November 12th to 19th, 2005, the 16th annual summit of the Asia Pacific Economic Co-operation was held in Busan, South Korea under the theme "Towards One Community: Meet The Challenge, Make the Change". Having a busy work schedule and living on the opposite side of town, I was unable to take in any of the accompanying festivities (most regrettably the spectacular fireworks display at Gwanganli Beach). Determined, at least for one day, to experience this major political and economic forum, if only from the periphery, I threw my camera in a bag, hailed a taxi, and made my way across town.

I was forewarned that buses and the subway would not be stopping at or near either of the two major host venues, Busan Exhibition and Convention Center (BEXCO) and Haeundae Beach. With this in mind I asked to be dropped off in Suyeong. Oncheon River separates Suyeong and Dongnae from the more affluent Centum City and Haeundae neighborhoods in the northeast of Busan. Its banks are currently the site of the some of the most ambitious and enormous apartment development taking place in the city. Encouragingly, a large area of land has also been developed as a boardwalk and park, an aspect of urban planning that, until recently, has been sorely lacking in Busan.

As I approached the river I was confronted by a massive barricade of Hyundai shipping containers. Stacked two high to form a wall, the containers were in place not to block traffic, but rather to impede and regulate its flow. I walked along the edge and approached the bridge to find the length of it occupied by police and police buses. Despite my innocent intentions to walk and observe, I had what I consider to be a common reaction when witnessing a large contingent of law enforcement: irrational guilt. Slightly unnerved, I altered my route and walked further up river to the next bridge. (In retrospect, I realized that the police, much like the large container barricades, were in place to deter anyone with nefarious intentions. Presenting no threat I would have had no problem passing.) The weather was excellent and a slight detour was welcomed.

Walking along the river to the next bridge, I saw more parked police buses and forces. A large portion of South Korea's police force is made up of young men, usually in their early twenties, serving the countries mandatory 2 year and 2 month military service. For many, it is considered a favorable alternative to freezing one's ass off patrolling the Demilitarized Zone between North and South Korea. Although their black uniforms and array of riot busting accessories convey an air of menace, most were out of their full gear, smoking, eating, and behaving jovially as young men in their 20's are inclined to do in eachother's company. Any threat, whether from terrorism or protesters, seemed to be well under control.

I arrived at the bridge and found the scene was the same. I waited for a few cars and a middle aged couple on foot to begin crossing the bridge to confirm I wouldn't be turned back. My presence elicited not much more than a few turned heads, smiles, and even the odd "Hello."

Having crossed the river, I turned and walked along a newly installed park and boardwalk. The police presence of the bridge and the opposite bank were now all but invisible despite my close proximity to BEXCO. Along the water's edge, men cast fishing lines, children played, joggers jogged, and a middle aged man wheeled past on a unicycle with surprising mastery.

I exited the end of the park nearest BEXCO and crossed the street. The road leading to the convention center was blocked by a manned barricade. I guessed it might only have been for vehicles and tried to walk around. With an assertive but friendly "No" and an X formed by his forearms (a common Korean gesture used to express 'No' to foreigners), a young cop turned me back. I walked along the edge of the restricted area able to see the impressive BEXCO structure in the distance but, unlike on so many previous visits, I was unable to approach it.

At the next road block I didn't attempt to pass but did take notice of the attention paid to making this security measure pleasant to look at. Between yellow and black metal barriers were three tiered flower boxes with 'Welcome to APEC' printed along the edges. The flowers were fake. Logical I suppose since a police force required to attend to the welfare of live flowers doesn't do much to instill fear in would be 'trouble makers' ("Don't make me put down this watering can!").

I continued along the edge of the restricted area. In some places police buses and officers outnumbered civilians. In other places a feeling of normalcy pervaded. Walking through an apartment courtyard where birds sang and children played, I turned a corner and found hundreds of police sitting, legs crossed on the pavement. Not guarding anything, they were being held in reserve to be called upon if needed.

Altering my route numerous times to avoid police barriers and road blocks, I finally arrived at the gateway to Dongbaek Island, the home of Nurimaru APEC House where the leaders of APEC's 21 member countries were meeting in seclusion to discuss, among a range of other issues, 'Advancing Freer Trade' and 'A Safe and Transparent Asia-Pacific Region'. The stated goals of the summit are to promote freer trade through support for the WTO and to seek measures for dealing with threats to human security such as terrorism, disease, and natural disasters. With attacks in Bali, the looming threat of bird flu, and a devastating tsunami within the last year, these are pressing concerns for the region and its leaders.

From a security standpoint, Dongbaek (technically a peninsula and not an island) is a perfect location for hosting world leaders. Nurimaru APEC House on the peninsula's tip is practically invisible from the rest of the mainland and the surrounding waters are easily guarded and patrolled by a fleet of police boats and battle cruisers. The only road leading onto the island was tightly controlled by police on foot, motorcycle, and in armored personel vehicles. I stood there taking in the scene as a police chopper circled over head. Anticipation was in the air. I wasn't sure why but I needed to sit down and rest so I decided to do so there. I was approached by an outgoing Korean university professor. He informed me that people were waiting to see the motorcades depart. Particularly, he wanted to catch a glimpse of U.S. President George W. Bush, 'Bushee' as he is known by many in Korea. After a short time, the police escorts appeared surrounding a fleet of BMW X5 sport utilities and 7 series sedans. China and Mexico rolled out before the tell-tale Cadillacs and flying pennants of the American motorcade came into view. Accelerating quickly, tinted windows rolled up, and surrounded by trucks full of secret service agents, the president's car passed within feet of where I stood with the professor on the side of the road. Despite a general negativity towards the U.S. on the part Koreans, most of the spectators seemed excited rather than angry. "It's Bushee!" exclaimed the professor gleefully.

I waited for a while and saw the Canadian contagion leave. None of the leaders were visible however through the darkly tinted glass. A large bus emerged shortly after and unloaded a large group of journalists toting their cameras and massive zoom lenses. There wasn't much to see after that so I took a relaxing stroll along Haeundae beach. Beyond the police line at the beaches southern end (closest to Dongbaek Island) children, couples, and families enjoyed the afternoon sun and refreshing ocean air. Seagulls swarmed amazingly close hoping for some child to drop his valuable cargo of potato chips.

Answering the wishes of many, APEC went off successfully with any major disturbances. I was surprised to witness no protests on the day I visited and to hear of only minor demonstrations on the other days. With the opening of Korea's rice market, farmers were the most active protestors but due to an overwhelming security force things never got out of hand. Perhaps APEC was just a warm up for next months WTO meetings in Hong Kong where Korean farmers are expected to make up a major contingent. Public protest and calling on leaders to account for their actions is an important part of the ongoing and inevitable experiment of globalization. Despite this, sometimes things grind to a complete halt and nothing can be accomplished. APEC 2005 in Busan did not fall victim to this and marks, along with the 2002 World Cup and the annual Pusan International Film Festival, another occasion on which the leaders and citizens of Busan have hosted the world in their beautiful city.

The presidential motorcade leaving APEC 2005:

Some more images:

A police boat and its occupants patrol the waters off Haeundae Beach during APEC 2005.

A pedestrian passes a group of police at APEC 2005.

A police line at Haeundae Beach keeps the southern end of the beach off limits to visitors.

A police motorcycle escort leaving the entrance of Dongbaek Island during APEC 2005.

Young police officers line up along the sidewalk to enforce security during APEC 2005.

Everything I Know I Learned From Star Wars

2005-05-15T11:16:00.000+09:00

May 19th will be marked as a bittersweet day for Star Wars fans. The day on which the final (although techincally 3rd) episode of a six film saga is released will be greeted with mixed emotions by people of all generations. Some will anticipate the satisfaction of finally seeing a story told over 28 years be completed (even if they did already watch the final act 20 years ago and already know how this third installment will playout); Some will be anxious to see if George Lucas can redeem a franchise many consider to have gone downhill; Others will rue another day on which they will have to defend their allegiance to Captain Kirk or Gandalf and Frodo; From their homes others will remark, "I can't believe these nerds on the news lined up for 2 days just to watch a movie." Where ever you are and whatever your personal feelings are, Friday will mark a significant milestone in pop culture, as one of its most recognizable and iconic stories at last becomes whole. It would be hard to find someone you know who isn't familiar with lines like "May the Force be with you" or "I am your Father". In recognition of the significant impact Star Wars has had on people and culture, here is a list I received in an email a few months ago.

Everything I Know I Learned From Star Wars:

1. Good guys don't always wear white and bad guys don't always wear black. Just to keep life interesting.
2. Belief and faith are far more powerful than any technology man can devise.
3. You will, throughout your life, be thrust into impossible situations by fate.
4. You may have family members in surprisingly high positions.
5. Never declare that there is "nothing to stop [you] this time."
6. THIS one goes here, THAT one goes there.
7. No disintegrations.
8. Never, never, underestimate the power of the Dark Side.
9. Sometimes you have no choice.
10. You will find many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.
11. No matter how deeply one falls into darkness, there is always hope for redemption.
12. Just when you think there is no more hope, alas, there is one more.
13. Don’t be overconfident.
14. Never judge a "piece of junk" from the outside. More often than not, "she's got it where it counts."
15. Faith and belief can be a weakness as well as a strength.
16. Your eyes can deceive you, don't trust them.
17. Beware of judging someone else's beliefs as just a "hokey religion." You may end up eating those words.
18. Never judge anything by its size.
19. Never cast your lightsaber away, you might need it.
20. Whining about something never helps.
21. It is not always necessary to ignore the annoying.
22. It is pointless to argue with family members.
23. Watch your hands when sword fighting.
24. Walk in single file to hide your numbers.
25. Trust yourself.
26. Never allow yourself to become as clumsy as you are stupid.
27. Sometimes it's better to fly into an asteroid field.
28. When you protest about the terms of an agreement, the terms might be altered further.
29. Size matters not.
30. "Try not. Do or do not. There is no try."
31. "Mind what you have learned, save you it can."
32. Even if it is a great shot, don't get cocky.
33. Sometimes you have to bury your feelings.
34. Be prepared for things to go wrong.
35. You'll always have a bad feeling about something.
36. The Dark Side is never irrevocable.
37. If all else fails, angle the deflector shields.
38. Watch out for those trees.
39. People who are "more machine now than man, twisted and evil" set a pretty sparse table.
40. Control, control, you must learn control.
41. If somebody cuts your hand off, don't trust him to betray his boss for you.
42. Young men should be wary of getting involved with crazy, old hermits who like to be called "Master."
43. Let go of your conscious self and act on instinct.
44. You shouldn't always listen to your parents.
45. You can't escape your destiny.
46. When you say that you are "ready for anything," actually be ready for anything.
47. Don't give into your anger.
48. Do everything in your power not to make the same mistakes as the previous generation.
49. Grasping at your throat will not stop the choking.
50. Beware of tremors in the Force.
51. If you do not believe, that is why you fail.
52. Everything has a weakness, it's just a matter of exploiting it: Emperor - overconfident; Luke - friends; Death Star - thermal exhaust port; Stormtroppers - Ewoks; Star Destoyers - bridge deflector shields; Darth Vader - compasion for his kids; Leia - smugglers; Chewie - dead animals hanging from trees; C3P0 - frail body
53. Don’t always look to the horizon. Keep your mind on where you are and what you are doing.
54. If you’re not afraid, you will be. You will be.
55. Stay on target.
56. Your insight serves you well.
57. Remember, your strength flows from the Force.
58. Once you start down the Dark Path, forever will it dominate your destiny.
59. You must do what you feel is right.
60. Patience... you must have patience.
61. Let go of your feelings.
62. You should always listen to a Jedi master when they tell you something; they probably know what they are talking about.
63. Even Jedi can make mistakes sometimes.
64. Pass on what you have learned.

Music: Star Wars Theme (composed by John Williams)

Home

2005-01-15T06:52:00.000+09:00

"Human beings are the only creatures that allow their children to come back home."
-Bill Cosby

I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this. I've been home three weeks and haven't updated in even longer. Excuses? Oh sure, I have tonnes: Sopranos, Fear Factor, The Apprentice, Survivor, the list goes on and on. I've been logging some serious hours catching up on all the North American culture I've missed out on the last year and a half. Sure, the wonders of the world wide web gave me access to all these things while away (thanks Bit-torrent), but it was never as easy as reclining in a plush chair and hitting a few buttons on the remote.

Need more explanations for my rampant blog-neglect? Enjoying more than a few dishes that have been absent from my diet for far too long: "Welcome back lamb chops and mint sauce!" Also I've been investing some serious time dumping my entire CD and mp3 collection onto my new Ipod (thanks Mum and Dad, oh yeah and you too Steve Jobs). I've got about 700 songs in there now and the sleek little machine is only about 15% full. Not quite bulging at the seams yet. Not even the entire catalogues of U2 and Radiohead, plus more than a few 15 minute long Led Zep guitar fests, have pushed 'Podzilla' anywhere near its 20 gigabyte limit.

After a couple of days in Vancouver, Mum, Dad and I drove up the scenic peninsula and back to Powell River. Home at last. It felt nice. I decided to shed my Khao San road dreadlocks and tidy up my traveling beard. I gave the hefty task to a local barber and he worked wonders. I dropped him a nice tip for his efforts and left the barber shop shaved, shorn, and feeling much better.

Christmas was especially nice after having missed last year's. I picked up all of my gifts on the road and they all looked a lot more valuable than what I actually paid for them (after considerable bargaining of course). New Year's Eve was spent in Victoria with Kerry. We splurged on a couple of bottles of Alize and partied like we were in a rap video (minus the exotic cars, exotic girls, exotic locale, and massive entourage). Then we were off to Sugar where we watched Velvet and ran up a bar tab that still sends shivers down my spine. By fluke we ran into Adam and a joyous, pissed reunion was had. I ended up crashing with Adam at his old place and spending the entirety of the next day watching college football and nursing our hangovers with water and pizza.

A few days later I watched the 6-1 routing of Russia by Canada's world junior team. A nice way to kick off 2005. Good work boys. I stayed a few more days and saw a few more friends: Rob, Paul, J.C., Lauren, Kate, Stu, Nicole. Unfortunately, I missed more people than I saw because not everyone had come back for the new semester yet. Another Victoria visit may be in the cards. I woke up Friday to find Paul skipping classes and snow blanketing the ground outside, a rare phenomenon in Victoria (the snow I mean; I can't really attest to Paul's attendance record but, to be fair, I wouldn't have been going to school in that weather).

I had serious doubts that my bus home would be running but trudged down to the depot anyway. To my surprise, they sold me a ticket and I boarded the bus. With its winding roads straddling sheer drop offs into the water far below, the Malahat can test your nerves at the best of times. With snow already covering the road, and more rushing down from the sky to join it, I was more than a little jittery as I looked out the window at the potential disaster that loomed just a few feet to the side of the bus. I dialed up 'A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: The Audiobook' on Podzilla, and let it distract me.

Once we were through the mountains, the bus kept up a surprisingly good pace. The landscape as you drive up Vancouver Island is scenic and was made even more so by the liberal coating of white snow it received that day: The bare branches of millions of trees support more snow than seems physically possible; fields of grass are transformed into vast plains of white snow and grey ice extending to the base of white mountains beyond; in some places the road passes near the ocean and the white ground runs right up to the edge of the dark, choppy, and surely frigid waters.

I got off in Courtney and managed to catch the last bus running out to the ferry. I was the sole passenger on the bus driven by a guy who liked to chat and, when no-one was watching, kick the back end of the bus out sideways in the snow. It was a fun ride and at the end of it I ran off the bus and on to the ferry with only a minute to spare before it departed.

Since then it's been a nice week of relaxing at home in the company of my parents and Marley, our friendly black lab who likes to dig holes and ignore what you tell him to do. I've been spending some time toying around with my new computer, trying to learn some of the programs I've loaded and find illegal cracks for the others. As I edit and arrange some of my beach pictures from Ko Lanta, I can't help but thinking that the resort which I called home for about a week is no longer there. The beachside bar, the pool table, the barbecue, the sitting platforms have all surely been swept away. I left the island no more than a week before it, and numerous other places along the edge of the Indian Ocean, were devastated by the tsunami. Many of the people I met left around the same time as me, but many more stayed, including, of course, the fantastic group of Thai guys and girls that made my stay such a pleasure. I knew them only a few days, but something about the warmth and kindness that is an integral part of the Thai persona, made them feel like good friends. Being a smaller tourist destination, the extent of the devastation on Ko Lanta hasn't been a main focus in Western media. I can only hope everyone was ok and my heart goes out to everyone whose friends or family aren't ok. With the late night, alcohol fueled schedule I kept while there, I can only guess what would have happened to me had I been passed out in my bungalow when the killer wave struck. It certainly puts things in perspective. I'm happy to see Canada and the world being so generous with not only money, but also time and care. Perhaps this is something that can unite those once divided. You have to look for the silver lining I guess.

No Man Is An Island

2004-12-16T02:35:00.000+09:00

Khao San road caters to that lazy slob in everyone. The cafes are open for breakfast at 6:00am but most of the customers are hold overs from the previous night's bar cruising. It's rare to spot dreary eyed backpackers emerging from their hostel before 10:00am at the earliest. Whenever traveling between any other places on my trip in South-East Asia, the bus has always departed around 7:00am. My bus to Ko Lanta from Khao San Road left at 6:00pm. Sweet serenity! I killed the afternoon watching pirated DVD's at the cafe next to my guesthouse then hopped on an incredibly lavish bus for only $10.

On the way down south I sat next to a professional welter-weight boxer from Persia. I'm neither female nor homosexual but I can comfortably admit that this was one handsome guy. What didn't he have going for him? The mysterious middle-eastern charm, the dark, rugged complexion, the cool accent, the fact that he could clobber the hell out of all but the most hardened fighters. With all that, and a fighting name like 'The Sultan', I expected at least a touch of arrogance. The wasn't a trace. He was truly one of the nicest and most down to earth people I've met on my travels and we had some interesting conversation on the road. He was heading to Ko Samui to fight a Muay Thai (wildly popular Thai kickboxing) bout, something he does every few months to stay limber and in shape for his other fights. It would be televised locally. I had picked the right seat and got to hear all sorts of fight stories from his fledging career in Asia. I'm not the biggest boxing fan, but it definitely beat some of the self-indulgent blabber I've been subjected to on other bus trips. We parted company at Surrat-Thani and I made the final leg of the trip to Krabi then Ko Lanta in a sleepy daze.

After 14 hours, 3 buses, and 2 ferries, I finally arrived at the Coconut Bungalows on Long Beach. Finally the type of Shang-Ri-La living I've been waiting for all trip. I took a nap and was back up in time to sit at the beachfront bar playing pool as the sun set. For about an hour the little drinking and entertainment shelter called the Monkey Bar was filled with the most warm, vivid, and colorful light I have ever seen. I could feel it washing away all the accumulated travel stress and fatigue. As the sun disappeared off the edge of a breathtakingly colorful sky, the tin buckets emerged from behind the edge of the bar, soon to be filled with a balance impairing concoction of ice cubes, Sang-som Thai Rum, Red Bull, and Coca-Cola. Lines formed around the pool table, fresh seafood was taken off ice and thrown on the barbecue, and large, strange smelling cigarettes dangled from the lips of many patrons (apparently containing some local herb of international repute). A group of local Thai guys manned the bar, cooked the crabs, distributed the strange smelling cigarettes, and generally acted as hosts to keep the good times rollin'. Once darkness had completely fallen, two of them lit up their firesticks and put on a hypnotic display of firespinning set to throbbing techno beats. A good time was had by all.

Not all, however, had to wake up at 6:30am to take their Open Water diver certification. I did. Bleary eyed and still processing last night's alcohol, I emerged from my bungalow, ate breakfast, and got picked up by the SP dive shop (you're welcome for the free advertising) pick up truck. Thankfully, I was the first to be picked up and got to sit up front rather than have to suffer Cambodia border crossing flashbacks crashing around in the back. The first day consisted of watching educational videos in the morning and, in the afternoon, practicing some of the skills in confined water (for all you non divers, that's a pool).

Diving was called off the second day due to unseasonably stormy weather so I used the time to watch more videos and study the Recreational Dive Planner. Though my instructor Nik didn't seem to place much importance on the videos or books, I would need to write a final exam before I could get my card.

On the third day, we finally set out into the open ocean. After a couple of hours we arrived at the dive site of Ko Ha. Other more experienced divers went off to explore caves while me and Nik went through some underwater skills such as regulator recovery, mask clearing, equalizing, and emergency ascents. I was worried I would panic but, keeping in mind the fundamental rule of scuba diving, 'never hold your breath', everything went smoothly. Once I had demonstrated my basic skills, I followed Nik through the coral gardens on the ocean floor.

Not more that 12 meters below the surface, lies a completely different world. In five minutes floating next to a reef, you can see more different species of creatures than you would in five hours hiking through a forest. The sheer diversity is mind boggling: schools of fish pulsate and shift like clouds in a strong wind, vibrantly colored clownfish swim among the cloying fingers of sea anenomes, the menacing faces of eels protrude from small fissures among the coral, other divers beckon and point to let you know they've spotted something big like a sea turtle or a pair of octopuses (or is it octopi?). My kingdom for an underwater camera!

The next day we took another boat trip to Ko Bidah where I dove down to 18 meters. After a final check of all the skills I've learned, me and Tolva (another instructor) swam over, around, and occasionally through the coral reefs. I still had an unhealed exhaust pipe burn from one of my rental bikes in Vietnam. Alerted by a sharp pain from my inner calf, I looked down to see a school of bright yellow fish feeding on the wound. I know you're supposed to observe the underwater environment without leaving any impact but these little bastards were being persistent. I kicked one of my fins at them and managed to knock them back but more swam in to take a bite. I'm not sure whether they were deterred by the barrage of flippers I threw at them or they didn't quite like the taste of my leg, but the finally gave up. This was a good example of the way creatures interact in the underwater world. I had expected fish and other marine animals to disperse and avoid me when I swam by. Not so. Everything seemed to just flow together and I was just one more big, strange looking fish. For little fish, it's not the massive fish that cause concern. It's fish that are slightly larger for which little fish would make a filling meal, rather than a tiny morsel, that are the ones to be scared of. For this reason, I often found myself engulfed by puny, but beautiful, little creatures, some staring at me through my goggles in a moment of interspecies fascination.

Besides my $450 Cnd ticket home, my diving class was the most expensive single purchase of the whole trip at about $250 Cnd. It was well worth it. I enjoyed the whole experience, from dozing off watching informational videos to interacting with animals that look like they come from another planet. If you get a chance, do it. I spent the evenings repeating the same routine described above (sunset, seafood, Red Bull, firespinning, etc.) It is with much pain that I will board the bus this afternoon to return to Bangkok.

Firespinning on Long Beach, Koh Lanta:

The Long and Winding Road to Khao San Road

2004-12-10T18:40:00.000+09:00

The fairly smooth, surprisingly short, bus trip from Pnohm Pehn to Siem Reap had made me complacent. I simply wasn't prepared for the ordeal of getting to the Thai border. Granted, I did take precautions. When booking the ticket I attempted to ensure myself the least painful trip possible:

Travel Agent- "New border crossing or old border crossing?"
Me-"Which one has the more comfortable bus?"
TA-"New border is cheaper."
Me-"Yeah, ok, but which way is more comfortable?"
TA-"New border is only $10. Very cheap!"

(I couldn't really fault her for trying to save me some money. I think the general view of young foreign tourists in South-East Asia is that they have money but are reluctant to pay any more than the bare minimum for anything. In most circumstances, this applies to me aswell. On this day however, I was facing a journey of several hundred kilometers across terrain I expected to be anything but smooth. While rough roads where an inevitability, total discomfort was not. I wanted to be sitting on as much protective padding as possible)

Me-"Money is no problem. Which bus is better? More comfortable?"
TA-"Ahhh bus?"
Me-"Yeah, I want the better bus. I don't care which border I go to."
TA-"Ahhh you don't worry, bus same same!"

And with those oft heard words of persuasion my chances of having a comfortable seat quickly evaporated (although I did not immediately realize it).

When the bus pulled up I knew I should have flown. I half expected to see holes in the floor for the drivers feet to protrude through 'Flintstones' style. That's how primitive this thing was. The seating arrangements made a sardine can look spacious. The surly passengers were cramped into their tiny fold down chairs while the mass of baggage was piled in behind. My seat, with a little more legroom and the ability to slightly recline, was one of the best. Then again, that's like having a mild case of crabs, still not that pleasant. I was beginning to wish I'd learned a little transcendental meditation from the monks at Angkor Wat. I could just send my mind off to another plane of existence and let it return when I needed to clear Thai immigration.

The bus was uncomfortable at a standstill, but once it started moving was when the real fun began. Looking more like a crater marked, lunar landscape than a road, the route to the Thai border crossing at Duang stretched out ominously ahead of us. The rolling and lurching of our rickety bus was made only more uncomfortable by the copious amounts of dust blowing off the road and through the windows. Before long, everything inside from bags to passengers was coated in a thick brown film. In an attempt to alleviate this problem, the driver closed the windows and turned on the air conditioning. It was well intentioned, but the results only made things worse: all the a/c ducts were completely full of dust and when opened, they dumped their payload all over the waiting passengers. Not much later, a particularly severe pothole impact jarred the back door open. Three bags had tumbled out into the road before the driver noticed and stopped. Luckily, no-one else had followed us down this road to run them over. We recovered the lost cargo, secured the door with a piece of rope, and set off again.

Several hours dragged painfully by and I consoled myself with the thought that every passing minute brought us that much closer to the paved highways and new buses of Thailand. "I just want to get to the border and get off this bus," was my only wish. Unfortunately, only half of it was soon to be fulfilled. With a pitiful whirr and a defeated clunk, the engine died and we rolled to a stop. I was off the bus but not where I had hoped to be. It appeared we were out of fuel. A surprising thing to happen on a scheduled bus route driven every other day. Then again, it wasn't that surprising. We took a few minutes to stretch our legs and try to make light of the situation. We were in the middle of nowhere. On either side of the road stood a few rickety dwellings in scrubby fields with palm trees protruding above the long grass. A couple of local kids rode up on bicycles and the bus driver gave them some cash to go get gas. I doubted we would ever see them or the money again but, within minutes, they came back with a couple of gallons of much needed fuel. I walked a short distance down the road to be out of view while I 'watered some of the local vegetation'. I was about to take a few steps off the road but then thought better of it. The last thing I wanted to do was piss on a landmine.

When I arrived back at the bus it was ready to go. The gas was all in the tank, everyone was aboard, and the driver was turning the key. Only, nothing was happening. The engine churned and squealed but refused to turn over. Apparently we hadn't run out of fuel. Another delightful turn of events. We were back off the bus but now, with only about an hour and half until the border closed, we didn't have much to joke about. Groups started to form and discuss hitchhiking strategies and what would be a reasonable offer to get us to the border. The planning proved unnecessary as a small pick up truck emerged before us through a cloud of dust. The driver looked at our group of 17 and gestured to the truck bed. "I guess we just through all our bags in there and then something bigger will come for us," I rationalized. The bags were all in and decently secured and I was still fairly confident in my initial assessment. As you may have already guessed, I was completely wrong. The driver pointed again to the back of the truck and, since we were no longer carrying anything, it was generally assumed that we would be joining our bags for the trip to the border. We got in and adjusted to the new seating arrangements which were only marginally more uncomfortable than the old ones.

Perched on the 4 inch edge of the truck bed, I gripped anything I could to keep from being hurled out. The road was still just as bad but we were more acutely aware of it due to the hard metal under our already sensitive rear ends. As we lurched and banged over every new pothole, the passengers let out "ooohhhh"s and "ahhhhh"s to articulate the general feeling of dread and discomfort. From small houses set back in the trees along the road I could hear the mirthful cackle of locals splitting their sides at the sight and sound of us. It lightened the mood a little watching children see us and instantly collapse into laughter as if it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. Perhaps it was.

Dusty, suffering, and several hours behind schedule, we finally arrived at the border. We squeaked through with about 20 minutes to spare before the gates closed for the night. Because it was so close to the end of their shift, I think the customs officers were in a rush to get us through and didn't bother trying to bilk us for a few bribes (which, if one can trust the word of fellow backpackers, are almost considered customary). It was a great relief to sink into the plush seat of the new minibus and pass out for the final leg of the trip into Bangkok.

I was woken up by the bright glow of millions of yellow lights dangling from trees along the main streets. The city was lit up in celebration of the King's birthday. The King of Thailand is a beloved figure and the mood for his party was literally electric. Finally escaping the bumper to bumper traffic, the bus dropped us and our dusty bags on Khao San Road, Bangkok's backpacker haven. I dragged myself and my bag from one guesthouse to the next in search of a cheap room. I watched enviously as other travelers, already set up with accommodations, whiled away the night at patio tables covered with beer and savoury Thai food. I eventually found a room and went out to join them.

As with most places I've been on this trip, it would be hard to fully convey Khao San Road in words. Of course I'll try. Perhaps a list of some of the things you can see: Volkswagen vans converted into traveling traveler's bars; pots and plates of bubbling, fragrant Thai cuisine; English Premiership matches or the latest Hollywood offerings playing on every TV screen in every bar on the street; dogs and cats that rival stoned backpackers for their level of laziness by sleeping in the middle of the street and barely flinching as cars, tuk tuks, and people navigate within inches of them; tailor shops where one can shed the scruffy facade of budget traveler and slip into a custom made suit for less than $50 US dollars; ongoing social and political discourse scrawled on the walls of dingy bathrooms (examples: "If you give up peace as a goal, everything is fucked! Don't believe any idiots who say otherwise.";"I'm German and I hate only two things: racism and Israelis") by Khao San's diverse international population; thousands of gravity-ignorant geckos chirping, crawling, and hunting flies at impossible angles on walls, ceilings and signboards; travelers getting their hair braided, their bodies pierced, or their skin inked at the many hair salons, piercing studios, and tattoo parlors; the list goes on and on.

On Khao San Road, authenticity is a four letter word. At every turn you can find a fake something: street stalls sell knock off brand name clothes and shoes; bulletin boards advertise fake ID's and press passes that can be made in less than an hour; bookstore shelves are loaded with photocopied editions of Lonely Planet and popular novels; pirated software and burned CD's and DVD's can be picked out of bulky catalogues for less than a dollar each; if a guesthouse earns a recommendation in a popular travel guide, within months, five others have popped up, all with the same name in an attempt to attract uninformed visitors; even some of the women aren't real! Where as a 'not-so-North Face' bag can be spotted by its shoddy stitching and crooked logo, the low pitched voice and massive hands are dead give aways of a transexual. In both cases, you can only tell from close range: "Good from far, far from good," as one fellow traveler put it.

This is the environment in which I've passed the last few days. I needed some time to recover from the brutal trip from Cambodia and this was an entertaining place to do it. This afternoon I'm off to Koh Lanta down in the south to catch some sun rays on the beach and hopefully see some manta rays in the water when I take my open water diving course.

Human traffic flows up and down Khao San Road, Bangkok:

Three Days at Angkor

2004-12-06T16:17:00.000+09:00

Somehow, I successfully woke up before the crack of dawn and made it to my bus for Siem Reap. A van picked me, and four American guys, up from the guesthouse. Striking up conversation, I asked if they would be joining me on the bus. They told me that they would not. They had decided to take the boat up the Tonle Sap river instead of chancing a hellish ride on one of Cambodia's loosely named 'highways'. We shared travel stories briefly before being dropped off at our respective forms of transportation. At $22, the boat trip was more than five times the cost of my $4 bus ticket. Anticipating a rocky ride, I quipped, "I'll let you know if it's worth it".

I boarded the bus filled with mostly Khmer passengers. Despite an irritating local soap opera that was playing on the bus's forward mounted video monitor, I quickly fell asleep. I woke up a couple of hours later aware that the bus had stopped. Most of the passengers had gone to use the toilet facilities and old women lined up at the windows selling fried spiders and scorpions. I didn't have the urge to relieve myself and I wasn't all that hungry (although hunger was not my main reason for declining what was on the menu). I soon fell back asleep. Not much longer we were stopped again. I was still content in my reclining seat and drifted back into unconsciousness. To my surprise I was poked back into reality by an elderly Khmer woman. She was the last passenger getting off the bus and was letting me know we had arrived. I couldn't believe it. It felt as if we had just left. I got a ride to a guesthouse and spent the afternoon relaxing.

About three hours later, the American guys arrived. "Did you just get here?" they asked. "No, I've been here for hours". What followed was the sound of four pissed off yanks saying the phrases "Shit!", "Fuck!", "Son of a bitch!", and "Damn!" in perfect unison. A chorus of profanity. It sounded hilarious. Their significantly more expensive boat ride had not been nearly as smooth, or as fast, as the bus. With their rooms arranged and cold beers in their hands they managed to get over it.

I went out to the Angkor temples to watch the sunset and buy my $40 pass for the next three days. I made the steep ascent of Pnohm Bakheng, a temple mountain with a good view of the sun sinking below the flat, broad horizon. I was not alone. The temples of Angkor have become a huge destination for visitors from all over the world. They are something like a Mecca (although they are actually significantly larger) of South East Asia and it seems most travelers you meet are either heading to, or coming from Angkor. One of the more popular activities is climbing Pnohm Bakheng to watch the sunset. I found a small section of temple step to use as a chair and sat down. A minute later someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see it was Jochen. We had split up in Saigon about a week earlier and, by lucky chance, met up again here. He was leaving the next day so we went for some Cambodian curry together in town and then split up again.

I had the ambitious idea of getting up at 4:30am to ride a bicycle the 5 kilometers out to the temples for sunrise. My guesthouse woke me up on time and had the bicycle (rickety as it was) ready to go. I, however, was not quite so prepared. A self-confessed night person, I didn't have the mental faculty to operate a fork, let alone a bicycle. I caught a few more hours of sleep and headed to the temples around noon.

I parked my bicycle infront of the most famous and recognizable temple, Angkor Wat. The five spires rose in the distance as I approached them on a large pathway, first across the outer moat, and then through the inner walls. Angkor Wat is the world's largest religious building and I was determined to reach its summit. There are nine options for ascending to the towers in the center of the structure. Eight are frighteningly steep staircases with extremely narrow steps. The ninth route is also a staircase made only slightly less frightening by the addition of a metal railing for holding on to (or in my case, gripping for dear life). I, like most rational people, chose this one. It was a dizzying ascent but to see the view from one of the seven wonders of the modern world was definitely worth it.

I decided to keep walking on to one of the lesser temples, Prasat Kravan, set back behind Ankor Wat. After thinking I could successfully wake up at 4:30 am, this was my second misjudgment of the day. The scale of the map makes everything appear as if it's within easy walking distance. The reality, as I soon found out, is that the main temples are spread out over a massive area. In most cases there are several kilometers separating one from the next. Either out of stubbornness or optimism, I believed I could walk around the circuit and makes it back before sunset. I was about 10 kilometers from my bicycle when I started to run out of daylight. It was time to accept defeat.

There are many forms of transportation seen moving along the roads at Angkor: bicycles, motos, tuk-tuks, cars, trucks, tour buses, elephants. I figured one of these would have room to take me back. I flagged down a moto driver and he dropped me off next to my waiting bicycle for $2. My first day was a bit of a misfire but I was still able to see a few things and suck up some of the aura of Angkor. I was determined to be more efficient my second time out.

I dragged my self out of bed at 4:30am, mounted my bicycle, and set off. I decided to head for the front of Ankor Wat because the sun would rise behind it and create a nice silhouette. Again, others had the same idea and I had to be a little creative to find a spot that wasn't completely over run with camped out tourists and travelers. Shortly, after 5:00 am the stars disappeared and the sky started to lighten. For the next hour, the rising sun cast its rays across the landscape and revealed the majesty of Ankor Wat. This was only the second time I have intentionally watched the sunrise this year. The last was the morning of January 1st from the East Sea off Korea as part of the local New Year's Day celebrations. Granted, I did see the sunrise several other times, but usually after a night out that only ended because it became day. I took countless digital pictures and slides then set off for Angkor Thom.

Today, I had decided, the bicycle would accompany me around. Angkor Thom contains within its huge grounds a number of attractions. I parked the bike and walked around. I saw the Bayon temple where 216 large stone faces smile at you from the walls. Every corner reveals more of the enigmatic visages. If ever you had the feeling you were being watched, this would be the place. Like a number of the temples, the Baphuon, was undergoing some extensive reconstruction and was off limits to visitors. I walked past the edge and then over to the Elephant Terrace. This 350 meter long terrace is set in the middle of Angkor Thom. Into it is carved a massive parade of elephants in various positions. At it's far end lies the Terrace of the Leper King. Here, there are more astounding examples of the relief sculptures carved from the rock. The sheer size and vastness of the Angkor temples is matched, and even surpassed in some places, by the artistry and detail put into the carvings.

I rode on to Tah Prohm where the age old competition between civilization and mother nature is dramatically on display. Massive trees grow from the roofs of buildings 15 and 20 feet off the ground. Their huge roots grip the crumbling stone work like giant fingers threatening at any moment to rip the buildings from their foundations. Many of the roofs and walls have fallen in and left colossal bricks strewn on the ground and in the halls. In some places nature has clearly helped this process. In others, it seems to have prevented it: the roots of a tree wrap around the bricks of a doorway which otherwise would have long ago collapsed. It was truly something to behold.

Though there were a few hours of daylight remaining, I was feeling the fatigue from a day of pedaling and decided to head back. A floating yellow ball in the sky caught my eye. It wasn't the sun but rather the Angkor balloon. For $11 you can ride below the big helium filled balloon to a height of a few hundred feet. The landscape around Angkor is incredibly flat and this is one of the few ways to get an aerial view of the temples. I paid my cash and waited about 15 minutes for the next flight. Below the balloon is suspended a donut shaped basket. Through the empty center, a line connects the balloon to the ground. The line is gradually let out and then reeled back in as the balloon goes up and down. One of the other passengers pointed out that there was only one rubber cord connecting us to the ground and that the pilot really had no control over the helium filled balloon. "What happens if that cord snaps?" she asked. "I guess I won't need to take a bus to Thailand then," I answered. My sense of humor was a thin veil for the growing anxiety I felt at the time. It was only a 10 minute ride though and I managed to control my nerves, enjoy the view, and take a few good photographs.

That night I joined the American guys who had decided to pay a visit to the local discoteque. They were four fairly strapping lads and, although there wasn't really much to worry about, I didn't mind having safety in numbers. The club was built around a big, circular dancefloor. For about half an hour, the lights went up, traditional Khmer music blasted, and people moved around in some strange sort of Asian line dance. Then there was a break, the lights went down, and the DJ started spinning the type of dance tunes I'm more accustomed to hearing. Two of the American guys had local girls on their laps while the rest of us had turned down the flirtatious advances of others. I assumed they were all hookers expecting to come back to the hotel. The two guys 'with company' just assumed they were local girls who had been magnetically drawn to their charm and good looks. We were all wrong. When the bill came it read something like this:

Item: Stella Artois Quantity: 3 Total: $6
Item: San Miguel Lager Quantity: 2 Total: $4
Item: Girls Quantity: 2 Total: $8

Luckily, I was only in for a few beers but I wasn't too shocked to see what else we were being charged for. The Americans were not quite so open minded. A long and heated argument ensued between the staff, the girls, and the guys. I hung out on the steps. Much better to be a spectator in this sort of thing than a participant. It seemed it was futile to dispute the charge and they ended up paying. As we walked back one of the guys remarked, "I should have bitten that bitch!". "Yeah, but that probably would have cost you double," I interjected. They had a good laugh and the tension abated.

For the final day of my pass I wanted to visit a few more temples that were further afield. The bicycle was a viable option but I decided to help out the moto driver who also worked at my guesthouse and let him take me for the day. It wasn't much work for him. He would drive me from one temple to the next, and while waiting for me, he either slept, had a drink, or just chatted. It was a mutually beneficial relationship.

I visited Preah Kahn, Preah Neak Pean, Ta Som, Eastern Mebon, Pre Rup, and Sras Sang. They are dotted along the 'Big Circuit' which is about 26km long. There are some even further but I didn't really have the time or the temple fetish that would be required to see them all. Despite many similarities, each temples has its own unique charm and features. It was an incredible visit and I managed to see all that I wanted to in three days. I had been dreading a swarm of tourists, but had found only some crowds at the main monuments and, in some places, no other people at all. From here it's on to Bangkok by bus. My last border crossing in South East Asia for this trip. Hopefully I can get through without having to 'grease any palms' but you never know around here.