A Bowl of Stupid

A few quick notes:

First, for anyone interested, I just posted new pictures up on my Flickr page from my trip last month to Krui, Sumatra, Indonesia. Feel Free to take a look.

Second, I leave Bangkok again tonight for another month of surfing back down in Rote, Timur, Indonesia. I am, like usual, excited about the upcoming trip — especially considering the surf down there has been absolutely EXCEPTIONAL in the past couple weeks, and they expect it to continue (double overhead, 5-10 knot offshore trade winds, and simply perfect).

Unlike usual, however, I am also contemplating getting a JOB here in Bangkok when I finish my summer in the Philippines, Micronesia, and elsewhere in the Pacific.

Yeah, I said it! Whatcha gonna do?

Seriously, I like Bangkok THAT much, and I'm actually thinking about going back to work — if only to sharpen back up my intellectual skills (or what's left of them). I've spoken to a couple friends here, and there are several interesting possibilities that do NOT include the practice of law. I enjoy living in Bangkok more than any place else I've lived for a while … so it just kinda makes sense (in a strange, capitalistic kinda way).

But September is a long way off … so we'll just have to see how it unfolds.

Finally, before I go incommunicado for a few weeks, I wanted to leave you guys with this thought:

Although living in Bangkok is awesome, there will obviously always be cultural issues that plague any American or European visitors.

The non-Latin language and script is the most obvious issue. However, there are a plethora of other differences — some gross, some sublime — that also invade my everyday life here in Bangkok and make me remember that I'm an ex-pat living in an entirely foreign culture.

For example, why do Thais maintain fastidiously clean floors (clean enough to eat off of), while letting immediately adjacent walls fall into baffling levels of disrepair?

And why do Thais have such (well known) open and accepting views on sexual preferences and skimpy clothing, yet still maintain such ridged views as to public bathing, such that it's frowned upon to go swimming in bikinis or any other type of revealing bathing suit fashioned any time after the Eisenhower administration?

Yet these issues are, in large part, mere curiosities. They don't really affect my daily life, or the lives of anyone else I know. The only cultural difference that really bothers me, on a daily basis, is the ridiculous show of deference and politeness shown by Thais to foreigners ('falangs').

This gets tiring … FAST.

Consider when you go out to eat (or go out anywhere, really) back in the States — there's a general understanding that, although you're the customer, the staff generally knows more than you do about how best to service your needs in the absence of any orders to the contrary (e.g., if you don't say anything, it's safe to say that you'll get your steak back 'medium' to 'medium-rare').

In Bangkok, however, you will instead get a waitress coming over every 2 minutes asking how you want your potatoes done, how hot you like your chili sauce, how well done you want your meat … and so on, and on, and on, and on.

Similarly, I went to get a haircut the other day, but eventually gave up on the whole thing after the barber refused to cut off any more that 1-2 millimeters at a time for fear of offending me. After an hour of this, I could barely tell that I'd been to the barber at all. Regardless, I still had to leave for fear that I would lose my shit, pull a Wayne Brady, and wind up choking the bitch.

Asking directions is also a big no-no here in Bangkok. Not because nobody will tell, but instead, they will try TOO hard. Inevitably, no matter whether or not the person you ask knows where you're going, they will simply agree with any directions you may suggest, point to, or show on a map — for fear of offending you, or telling you that they can't help you.

It really is like NYC in reverse. And like I said, it gets kinda tiring after a while.

Just once … ONCE … I want to go into a restaurant or a coffee shop — or anywhere!! — and have the wait staff ignore me, and spit in my food, and generally treat me like a piece of shit like they used to do back in New York and Miami and Philly. Just once — to let me know they're alive!

Alrighty then … I needed to get that off my chest … thanks, I feel better now. I'll see you guys in June. Peace out.

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[Yours truly, waiting patiently at the Air Asia counter in the Singapore airport]

Okay, so here's the thing — I hate planning return flights just because they tend to lead to confusion or unnecessary complications 1-2 months after the plans were initially made. Case in point:

I just spent a month surfing in the relative back-country of southern Sumatra, living 'for the moment' with no full-time electricity, no indoor plumbing, and little regard for the future or the past. And then, all of a sudden, I get wrenched back to reality with the realization that I have a schedule to keep — flights to make, places to go, and the like. It all gets very complicated very fast.

I came and planned on returning via airplane from Sumatra through Jakarta (a necessity since no planes fly directly to Bandar Lampung from anyplace other than Jakarta). Then, when I got to Jakarta, I had a return flight through Singapore solely for the purpose of picking up my other piece of luggage to bring it back with me to my new home in Bangkok.

So, the trip was ostensibly to be — from Krui to Bandard Lampung to Jakarta to Singapore to Bangkok.

Following so far? Okay, that makes one of us.

Things started off alright, but it all went sideways somewhere in the skies over Singapore. It was only then that I realized I had neither remembered nor written down anywhere the information about my return flight from Singapore to Bangkok. Given the number of airlines I've traveled with over the recent months, I couldn't even remember which AIRLINE I was on. The only thing I could (or at least THOUGHT I could) remember was that I had an overnight stay in Singapore.

With that theory doggedly lodged in my cranium, I took my time getting things done when I got to Singapore at about 2:00 yesterday afternoon. Rather than take a taxi, I gave myself some extra time on a shuttle bus, stopped at a Burger King for much needed red meat, and then relaxed at a coffee shop down the street from my old apartment on Robertson Quay — waiting before I finally had to find a hotel for the night.

During that time, I also tried to find out what flight I was on today — trying via email, SMS, and finally waiting on the telephone with Thai Air, JetStar Air, Air Asia, and finally … Tiger Air.

Of course, being the last airline i called, I was booked to fly out of Singapore on Tiger Air. THAT DAY. AT 6:00 P.M. IN ONE HOUR.

D'oh!!!

I hustled as best I could to make the flight. I grabbed the first cab I found, gave the driver an extra S$10 for getting me there in 15 minutes rather than the typical 30 minutes. I got my surfboard out of the left luggage at Terminal 1 to bring it with me via another taxi to the Tiger Air counter at the 'Budget Terminal' 2 terminals away.

And, of course, I missed my flight. To take the next flight on Tiger Air, which offers non-refundable tickets, would have cost me about US$500.00.

For those of you that know me personally, I'll leave it to you to guess of my response to that offer.

I considered the option of staying in town, as I had originally planned. After learning of GREATLY inflated hotel rates due to an international food festival being held in Singapore this week, I decided to try to get a flight out later that night.

Singapore and Thai Air assured me they could do it for the bargain basement price of US$800.00. I briefly considered flying back to Los Angeles, which was about the same price, but then I saw that Hilliary Clinton won the Pennsylvania primary and I decided to wait until after 2 November before even considering a return back to the States.

Instead, I checked at the Air Asia counter, which had 2 more flights heading out to Bangkok that night. I booked passage for me and my surfboards (almost the price of another ticket) on the later one leaving at 10:20 p.m. for about US$150.00.

Grand total I spent extra for being stupid enough to forget my airline, my flight number, and my flight DAY — including taxis, shuttles, baggage storage and transit fees (and the US$30.00 'exit fee' I got jacked for by an immigration official in Jakarta), I put it at a rough estimate of about US$350.00.

That was one HELL of an expensive cup of coffee. Man, given this type of stellar intellect, sometimes I'm amazed I've made it this far.

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Hey folks!

It's okay to come on back now everyone, I'm fairly calm now. But Jesus H. Christ on a pogo-fucking-stick, if I haven't had a nerve-wracking past few days.

First off, as noted in my last post, no one should EVER use AmTrust Bank for ANYTHING. EVER!! (unless you don't WANT to ever see your money again, of course). Fuck, I know there's a recession going on back in the States, but that doesn't mean the bank can simply STEAL my goddamn money!!

Regardless, that's what having an extra stash in your bank account is for, right?

Umm … yeah, not so much.

That's not to say that, besides also having the typical low-level 'scamming' thing going on, the local guys over at the Family Losman next door were also great hosts (although their facilities aren't as extensive as Andy's), so don't believe anything bad you may hear about them either. They're a bit cheaper, and they've just got a less extensive hotel/losman (i.e., Andy's got A/C rooms, a TV room, etc.). It just depends on what you want to do and pay.

So I'm here at Karang Nyimbor for another couple weeks — it's still not crowded in the surf, and my stress level has been reduced exponentially regarding money, so everything's cool.

Granted, it would be nice if the surf picks up a bit … but for now, I'm just thankful for what I've got.

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Quickly, I'm still alive.

I'm in a small villiage outside the southern villiage of Krui, in Southern Sumatra, Indonesia. I flew from Bangkok to Singapore to Jakarta to Bandar Lumpung, and then a quick 5.5 hour jaunt in a 'taxi' around the sides of a couple volcanos.

But I'm here now. And there's some nice surf … sorta.

There's surf alright, but the afternoons have been dealing up some 'brisk' 20-30 knot winds — which kinda wrecks havok on the surf breaks.

Anyway, this is one of the few places in Indo that has some decent right hand breaks. However, due to the heavy winds ('angin kuat'), I'm thinking of heading back over to Western Java next week. We'll see how the weather unfolds.

I'm staying a great little place called 'Family Loseman' located in an idylic setting right on the beach about 30 minutes outside Krui — total cost for room and 3 square meals a day - apprx. US$12.50/nite. Nice!

I'll tell you guys, everything they show in those stupid Corona commercials — that's nothing compared to this type of confortable isolation. It's not too shabby.

I'm working on my Bahasa Indonesian language skills, and things are generally fantastic. I'll write more when and if I return to civilization. Hope everyone is still doing well, and I'll keep up when I can.

Peace.

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Well now, I know it's fairly irrelevant considering I'm presently between careers and I'm not lacking for free time and everything, but this just sucks.

I just wasted the last 2 hours of my life writing a nice, long detailed post about some of the areas of Bangkok of interest to anyone who ever wishes to make it off the backpacker-tourist infested Thanon Khao San (Khao San Road), or otherwise escape from Bangkok's standard 'tourist' destinations.

Seriously, I spent all that time describing the Phyathai area of Bangkok where I'm currently living, and about the Sukhumvit area where most of the 'falang' ex-pats live, as well as some of the restaurants, bars, and coffeehouses in those and other areas I've been able to explore as an official 'ex-pat' resident.

But goddamn it if Wordpress didn't delete the shit before … no, not before, WHILE I was trying to save it.

So, for all of you who were honestly interested about getting around via the BTS line, and the unique Thai jazz scene up around Victory Monument, or finding a good local coffeehouse with free Wi-Fi, or about the best places for a private foot massage — y'all can just go lodge your complaints with the fuckers who designed this application.

Cuz I ain't rewriting that shit out again without a court order … or at least another 1-2 pots of coffee.

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Hey! Look who I ran into last night here in Bangkok!!

Either that or I'm still hallucinating from all the laew Khao whiskey I drank at and/or after (it's still not clear to me which) the MTV Party at my friends hotel here in Bangkok. Uggh, just kill me now.

The party itself was great. I went to dinner with some friends I met down in Rai Lay Beach before heading over the the hotel rooftop, where the party itself was being held. It was a great venue, Rob Garza from Thievery Corporation was in attendance, as were some other great DJ's. All in all, a fun time … from what I remember, of course.

Sho Nuff!!

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Thanks everyone for your well-wishes. I'm feeling much better. Ironically, the rashes associated with dengue Fever showed up more heavily AFTER the fever itself receded away. No worries though, it's a small price to pay for regaining the ability to move without feeling immense bone-crushing pain.

Anyway, once again being able to move my arms and legs again with no pain (athough still pretty weak … well, weaker than usual), I took this opportunity to go over and visit Fort Cochin for the last 4 days I'm in India.

I actually really like it. It's still India … which means there's still crowding, and swarms of foriegn tourists, and piles of garbage, and packs of feral dogs, ridiculously greedy people, and burning trash everywhere. But at least fort Cochin has a really unique history to it. There's a unique blend of Dutch, Portugese, British, and Indian culture and history here. It kinda reminds me of southern Malaysia — only with more trash.

Regardless, it's a really unique place. And I mean, really, any place that has a neighborhood named "Jew Town" — sporting a 500 year old synogogue — can't be ALL bad, right?

Meanwhile, when I finally ge a moment to check my email, I find this fucked-up gem of a story from tommorows NY Times. Apparently, my buddy Chez (upon who's fantastic blog I initially based this bullshit upon), was fired from his gig at CNN for … writing a blog.

WTF?

As I've told Chez many, many, MANY times. Blogs and jobs don't go together. Just look at me, I have a blog and you don't see ME working, do ya'? Err … bad example.

Moing on … sorry 'bout the gig, my friend. fuck 'em, they're a bunch of heartless jackels. But we already knew that, didn't we? Just ask the guys from WTVJ.

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It's now official — after Darfur and Iraq, India is my LEAST favorite tourist destination.

I've been laid up for the better part of 5 days now with what a local pharmacist says is probably Dengue Fever.

Admittedly, he may be wrong and I could have merely caught a really bad flu virus, since the only way to diagnose Dengue is via blood tests. But there's no way in HELL I'm letting anyone in this country stick me with a needle — doing it in Sri Lanka was bad enough. So, for bitching purposes alone, I'm just gonna assume I've got the Dengue.

He may be right — there's been an increasing number of cases in India over the past year, and I've been dealing with the symptoms described as being associated with the virus.

I've had a high fever on and off for the past 5 days — relieved only by copious doses of Ibuprofen (taking aspirin apparently makes it worse). I had a slight rash across my shoulders. My digestive system is in a worse state than Brittaney Spears' career. My eyes feel like they're gonna burn right thru my skull. And EVERY SINGLE BONE in my body aches. Intensely.

Yeah, there's a reason they also call this thing the break-bone fever or bonecrusher disease.

So I've been stuck in my room for the past several days doing anything I can do NOT to go crazy with boredom — reading books by the kilo, surfing the internet (when available), watching DVD's, and trying to get the most entertainment value as possible from my fever dreams.

The fever broke early this morning (but unfortunately has just resurfaced this evening — yea!), and I'm starting to get feeling back in my eye sockets. But I still can't eat anything, and I still feel like I just went 10 rounds with Bobbitt.

Hey, I'm not complaining (well, yes I am), because it could be worse — much worse. In that respect, I'm grateful that I'm (apparently) getting better. But, all in all, I'd rather be in Philadelphia.

I leave India in one week. Let's hope I don't catch a parasite or get rolled by a gang of rogue monkeys in the meantime.

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Yes, I'm finally in India - what a fascinating country shithole! And what better way to celebrate this auspicious occasion than for me to immediately book a flight to Krabi, Thailand.

Yes, India is just THAT good.

The presence here of what I had feared most — rabid European tourists and ego-driven nuevo-hippies everywhere — has indeed come to pass.

I originally planned on staying in India for 2 full months practicing my yoga and getting some further training should I ever wish to pursue it as a career in the future. However, I've since learned that most of the yoga ashrams and schools here — and especially those specializing in Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga, which is what I practice — are a complete farce.

On the one hand are the loads and loads of 'yoga centers' catering to all these Westerners who have been led to believe that the best practitioners MUST be in India since that's where modern yoga developed. That's complete bullshit. My brief experience has confirmed what others have told me — you can probably get just as good, if not better, training anywhere else in the world.

Then, on the other hand is the fact that yoga practitioners here, and especially in Mysore, which is known for being 'ground-zero' for ashtanga training, in fact produces bigger egos than true ashtaga yogis. Most of the guys here project a real ego-driven sense of "I'm more at peace than you are, and I can prove it!!" Fuck that, if I wanted to sit in a room full of bitches comparing how flexible and happy they are about living with no money, I could have gone to any ONE of the many fabulous nude bars in Miami and had a much (much) better time.

I know, I know … don't be hatin' on India. Yeah, I guess you're right … it's not ALL that bad.

I mean, the food here is probably some of the best in Asia — I actually enjoy eating vegetarian cuisine when it's prepared THIS good. Plus, all the wannabe hippies with their long flowing gowns and ponytails DO make for excellent dinner theatre. And as an added bonus, all the garbage burning throughout the day makes for an absolutely beautiful sunset.

Okay, granted, you really shouldn't go into the ocean unless you want to bring a pet parasite back home with you. But then again, the numerous packs of stray dogs and the occasional elephant you may encounter whilst trying to walk back to your room will more than make up for any 'wildlife' you may otherwise be missing underwater.

So, rather than stay here any longer than necessary, I'm going back to Thailand in a couple weeks to meet up with friends from Singapore before they all head back to states for good.

I've got a multiple entry 3 month visa, but I'm not really sure for how long — or even if — I'll head back to India. Moreso, given the continuing escalation of violence in Sri Lanka (one of the same private buses that I took to leave Kandy on 1 February was blown up by Tamil terrorists the VERY next day, killing 18 people and injuring 55), I fear it's not safe to travel there again until it all resolves itself. Instead, I will go back through and pick up my surfboards on my way to Thailand.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a hater, I'm just drawn that way.

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(map of Sri Lanka — for your reference and files)

I've thought long and hard about how to begin this particular post, given the fact that my sister may eventually read it, and she in turn will eventually tattle on me to my parents (just like when we were kids … man, some things never change). The easiest way is this:

I will never NEVER hesitate to ask for directions again. EVER!

As mentioned previously, I headed up here to Kandy to get my Indian Visa - boarding a train in Mirissa (Matara) in the far, far south, that I was told (repeat: TOLD) went through Colombo and then straight on to Kandy.

Yeah, not so much.

I probably should have first noticed something was wrong when the train hit a military checkpoint set up by the Sri Lankan Army to the north of the town of Vavuniya, Sri Lanka. It was only then that I learned — through a series of conversations in broken English, Singalese and Tamil — that I was not on the train to Kandy. Rather, I was on the train to Jaffna.

As in Jaffna, Sri Lanka's northern-most peninsula that is mostly under the control of the Tamil Tigers, the rebel insurgents fighting the Sri Lankan government. As a quick background for anyone not following the latest news on this (i.e., mostly all Americans, myself included until recently), Sri Lanka has been squeezed in the grip of a bloody civil war for the past 20 YEARS — the Sri Lankan Government on one side and the Tigers ('LTTE') on the other. There had been a toothless 'cease-fire agreement' in place for the past couple of years, but that too was formally dissolved just weeks ago after a string of violent clashes between the government forces and the LTTE.

Now, it appears the country is heading back to war. A civil war. A bloody, nasty, unnecessary, ridiculously over-extended civil war.

Fortunately for the surf-tourists, the violence has, for the most part, not extended into the island's southwest area — at least the far southwest, where I was surfing. In contrast, from all reports, the northern area is a cauldron of violence not suitable for tourists or locals alike.

So, through my own ignorance and stupidity, where did I wind up taking a train ride to? You got it — the absolute heart of the Tamil rebellion. Man oh man, sometimes I really do live up to the title of this blog.

Don't get too riled up, sis — I didn't stay there for long. In fact, my stay in the north can be counted in seconds, not even minutes. Shit, I didn't even actually make it into Jaffna proper. Instead, the absolute SECOND I realized where I was — when someone who read English pointed it out for me on the map, at which point I promptly flipped out — I literally jumped off at the next stop, ran across another set of tracks, and jumped on the nearest train heading back in the other directions. No, I'm not kidding. In fact, I may have been screaming like a little girl at the time, but I can't quite remember.

I didn't ask where that southbound train was heading. Frankly, I didn't care.

I had seen how some of the other (ever-increasingly Tamil) passengers were looking at me as I was trying to glean our location, and I had visions of the next days headline:

"In other news, an American tourist was taken hostage today in the Jaffna region. Officials are unsure why this tourist was even in that war-ravaged region, despite warnings …"

So yeah, I ran away like the little bitch I am. And yeah, I'm okay with that.

Any of you war correspondents out there who want to size up — okay, you win the big brass balls award. I'll give you that right now.

No kidding, being in a war zone while you're actually at war is fucked up enough (although I've been prepared to do it). But heading into a war zone just for the hell of it? Man, that's just nucking futs!

Luckily, the trains here in Sri Lanka run almost 24 hours a day, so I eventually found another train heading over to Kandy from the ridiculously obscure area I eventually found myself back down in the south. But what should have only been a 5-6 hour train ride instead wound up taking me about 12 hours.

I'm now in Kandy, but I have to wait a full week to get my visa due to the national holiday on Tuesday. So I've been walking around the lake, up the hills, and around the town. The city is beautiful, despite the massively overt military presence (everyone seems to be carrying an automatic rifle — I've an absolutely comical picture of a sign at an ATM stall with a circle and slash through it, prohibiting not cigarettes … but automatic rifles. I shit you not).

And instead of Tigers, Kandy seems to be infested with monkeys and bats (and the occasional elephant). And I got bit by some guys dog (he was kind enough to run inside and show me the vaccination documents, tho). Hey, the dogs, monkeys and the bats ain't carrying automatic weapons or munitions, so I'm cool with 'em.

They say that every adventure isn't an adventure while you're going through it. Yeah, maybe. But I'm guessing there are easier ways of having an adventure than by inadvertently wandering behind enemy lines.

Jiminy Crickets, can't we all just get along? I mean, really, I only came here to surf. To hell with this, I'm heading back down south until my visa comes through next week.

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Motherfucker.

I had a 'doctor' dig out a vast majority of the heel of my right foor, and he STILL didn't get the last two 2.0-2.5 centimenter long sea urchin spikes residing in my foot for the better part of a week now. It was only after hitting the surf and then treating the wounds with a lime that Paul was able to extract them.

The infection is pretty well gone, as are all the spikes (I think/hope). Thanks for the well wishes, all.

And YES, I was bloody well wearing booties! They mean nothing to sea urchins. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some surfing to do…

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Yes, I was stupid enough to step DIRECTLY on a black sea urchin in my rush to get out into the surf break right in front of my new guest house in Marissa, SR. Yes, it fucking hurt.

Given my sister's fascination with divulging my various minor physical woes with my technologically inept parents (apparently in a unilateral attempt to turn the rest of my mom's hair grey), I had resolved not to discuss the matter any further.

However, I've been asked by several folks for details. So, with a request to my sister NOT to tell my parents about this (at this point, hopefully) trifling issue for now, here are the details.

I stepped on a whole flock of black sea urchins. For those not acquainted, they are a mass of hollow black spikes with tiny spurs on them, apparently present just to add that extra special touch.

If you happen to step on them and remove your foot back without moving side to side, it may be possible to break off the spike while they are still sticking out of your foot by a few centimeters. If you 'jerk' back your foot (or feet, in my case) in response to the shock of having razor sharp spikes jammed 1-2 centimeters into the soles of your feet (no, I am NOT kidding), then the spikes will break off just below the surface of the skin.

This makes removal a particularly wonderful experience.

A large majority of the spikes in my left foot fell into the former category, and thus were removed fairly easily (all but a small one, which I'm keeping as a pet). The right foot however was not so fortunate. I had about 20 spikes in all. Most of them were removed using a mixture of native plant seepage, Sri Lankan rum, and a big fat splif.

One particularly vicious spike went thru the outside of my pinky toe in such a way that, rather than trying to pull it out, it was actually easier to cut the skin along the length of it and remove it by opening the skin flap.

There were also several others that were too deep to remove with the instruments at hand (a safety pin, nair clippers, and a pair of tweezers (all of which obviously just cleaned in an alcohol bath, of course). For them, we applied a mix of coconut, sugar, and curry powder and let it sit overnight.

Yes, I let them do that to my foot. I'm a very trusting soul.

Amazingly, the mixture worked (for the most part), as all but two of the bigger spikes were drawn to the skin surface overnite. That's where the fun starts. Long story short, after letting Dinu (my host) dig around in my foot with a safety pin for the better part of 2 hours, we instead decided to go to the doctor and let him remove the remaining spikes (this turned out to be a VERY good idea, considering the spike we removed from my little toe had gotten poisoned and was swelling from infection).

We did, of course, go to the snake farm first. Dude, if you've never seen a brown cobra hissing and rearing at you from only a meter away from you, I HIGHLY recommend it. Okay, maybe not … I hear ya.

The doctor's 'office' was something special, as was also the local anesthetic that must be applied at the site of EACH puncture. After applying the local, the 'doc' went to replace the old scalpel head with a fresh (and presumably clean) blade. In doing so, the old blade 'popped' off and flew across the room, landing behind some table or another.

Both I and my new Brit friend Paul (who was there to get some drops for his manky ear) starting laughing hysterically at the flying scalpel blade. The doc was not amused, and after setting down some newspapers to mop up the blood, he set to work digging into the sole of my foot with a scalpel.

That was just precious. Absolutely precious.

Those of you who know me personally may know my quirk that I tend to laugh more in direct relation to the amount of pain I'm in. You can ask Paul, in a matters of only seconds I was laughing hysterically in a way I haven't since watching "Showgirls." Again, just precious.

So, there you've got it. I'm on penicillin to treat the infection/poison for the next few days, and I'm out of the water for at least 1 more day (day 4, in total). All total, the doctor and the drugs cost me about US$5.00. Not bad, all things considered.

Other than that, though, I'm having a blast. No, really! Before this sea urchin bullshit, I was getting some decent surf (not Indo surf, but still …), the food is simply AMAZING, the locals are nice to a fault (almost creepily so), and the other surf-tourists I've met to date have been absolutely fantastic.

Hey sis, knock yerself out. But if mom goes all postal over this shit, it's not my fault.

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Once again, I find myself sitting in another airport departure lounge — this one in Cebu, Philippines — facing an ironic conundrum.

As noted below, I absolutely ABHORRED The Philippines when I first arrived here. I got injured, attacked, scammed, and essentially robbed. Not a good beginning, and I found myself questioning the motives of both myself and all other foreigners for even being in country in the first place.

All that is far, far in the past … seemingly to have never happened.

Honestly, I am at the most peaceful happiest point on my trip in quite a long time.

I have met some extraordinary people in Siargao that I now consider to be some very close friends. I have had some of the best surfing in the past year. And although I am extremely excited to be heading to Sri Lanka in a couple days, I am also extremely disappointed to be leaving my new friends.

I finally 'got' this area of the Philippines. And I've found really don't want to leave it.

We will see what Sri Lanka holds for me. And I also plan to visit my friends in Indonesia for a couple months during the summer. But I think I may have found what I've been looking for … at least on some level. And I plan on coming back. Possibly for a long time.

Once again, I'm not that concerned. I am happy, and only time will time.

To everyone I know — friends and family both — I wish you all a happy, healthy, safe, and peaceful new year. Essentially, I wish you all may feel like I do right now at this moment. All my best.

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Quickly, I'm still in the Philippines - I leave next week back to Singapore before quickly moving on to Sri Lanka in the first week of January.

There have been some interesting goings on in these neck of the woods here in Siargao Island. The first of which was that I basically got 'jacked' by the guy I hired a motorbike from. I paid him up front for an entire month, yet he still just came (carrying a machete) and took it back after only 2 weeks without refunding ANY money because … well, because he's a prick.

So I've basically been immobile for the past 10 days. Pisser … life in a cowboy town. C'iest la vie.

To balance it out, I've had the good fortune to meet some of the other locals (and foreigners) living on the island who have taken it upon themselves to right the wrongs that initially befell me here. I have been really treated like royalty for the past 10 days since that jackass fellow stole back his bike.

I owe them a debt of gratitude for restoring my faith in the human spirit after everything else I experienced here beforehand. Thank you.

On another note, the surf has also picked up a bit (it's not 'epic', but it's still good enuf to go have some really good fun with some of the local pros and other locals on a fairly regular basis).

The sweet is not as sweet without the sour. Ying and yang, my friends … ying and yang.

Take care. Happy holidays. Peace out for another week or so until I get back to Sing.

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