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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I'm really not sure how to write about the following (semi-private) information — or even if I should — But I will, nonetheless. And I justify my disclosure of this particular issue for a variety of reasons … not the least of which is that I wish to impart on my friends, family, and other readers the sheer quality of the people I've met during my travels.

Anyone following may recall that I haven't said just how I came to be living in Bangkok, except that it resulted from a mutually beneficial decision — my friend Jill needed to go back to the States for a bit, while I needed a semi-permanent home here in Southeast Asia.

I initially didn't discuss the situation out of respect for my friend's privacy. However, upon my latest return to Bangkok, I learned that Jill and her family themselves started their own website, publicly disclosing the unfortunate series of events that initially demanded Jill's return to the States.

As aptly noted therein, the site contains:

[A] perfect representation of our lives as Lawlers, lives that have now been touched by cancer TWICE, nearly simultaneously. First with our mother, Mary, diagnosed with Glioblastoma Multiforme Brain Cancer in August 2007 and, second, with our brother, Craig, diagnosed with Metastatic Chromophobe Renal Cell Carcinoma in early March 2008.

Yes, you read that right — both Jill's mom and brother were diagnosed with cancer within only months of each other. And the dignity, grace, and good humour by which J and her family are handling the situation is simply beyond description.

I am a better person for knowing people of such a caliber.

I honestly don't think I would handle myself in the same manner were I to find myself in the path of a similar storm. I just don't have that strength of character. But at least I now have a model for how it's to be done, if necessary.

If you've got a moment (which you apparently do, since you're reading THIS dribble), please take a look at Jill's website. I'm sure she and her entire family would be glad to hear of any well wishes anyone may have to offer.

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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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It was just what I needed, actully.

It happened as our truck crawled along the muddy hillside roads outside Chiang Mai, Thailand, as we were being driven up to the dropoff point for today's whitewater rafting trip.

I had a bit of an epiohiny.

Yes, another one, you fuckers.

As background, towards the end of my trip back to the States, I was finding myself again growing extremely bitter in my views towards Westerns (and Americans, in particular) for a variety of reasons - none of which are all that important at the end of the day.

However, the trip back to the States has also led me to consider various aspects of my place in the overall dynamic of global living in the 2st Century. Living in the States is, at the end of the day, not all that different than living abroad.

It's all a matter of keeping — or, in my case, obtaining — perspective.

I realised this today, as I was looking out at the fairly unadulterated tropical landscape full of banana trees, bamboo trees, palms, teak trees, and all variety of crawling vines and bushes — all one would expect from the back-country of Southeast Asia.

I'll try to explain, but I'm not quite sure I can.

When I first arrived in Chiang Mai, my tuk-tuk (taxi) driver assumed by my demeanor that I'd been here before. I think it's cuz I've lost any sense of 'bewilderment' I first had after leaving the States. You see it on the faces of all the mealy, pasty white, backpackers wherever you go … I mean EVERYWHERE.

In relation to living (or returning) to a metropolis like New York, or Philly, I called this getting my 'city legs." (KB calls it the 'Amish boy' factor).

However, that being said … although I've been doing for years and I'm getting quite good at it, I'm tired of playing the pissed-off American know-it-all, claiming that Americans who continue to toil as Joe Banks are doomed to a miserable existence.

I'm also tired of playing the flip-side of that coin, the know-it-all American 'ex-pat' who thinks he's an expert in all things living abroad, and about being a well-healed traveler.

Before I left back for Boston, I think I was viewing my trips abroad — to Costa Rica, Indonesia, Cambodia … wherever — not as a means to discover new places, but only new places to say I've been. The net effect of doing so was to put myself above all the other 'lessor-healed' travelers, but not see them — or myself — in the general equation.

I've been lamenting about the large number of Westerners in these Asian countries the same way I did about all the tourists to Miami Beach when I lived there. However, what can I really expect by going to places that are geared towards tourists?

It's essentially akin to getting pissed-off about having to sit through a Broadway musical after making a special trip to the theatre.

These places exist. They are what they are. As are the people there.

Cie la vie.

You must (or at least, I'm trying to) take these places - and the things and people they each have to offer - for what they are.

Acceptance.

I really shouldn't get mad because there are more tourists circulating through a town in the hills of northeastern Thailand than you'd ever have expected.

And I shouldn't be disturbed by watching Americans sitting atop trained elephants (whom several I saw faintly resemble) in the middle of the jungle just for the snapshot value.

And it's okay that there are developed railways, and freeways, and sprawling metropolises in places you 'thought' had only recently been blessed with the marvel of indoor plumbing.

These things are the way they are. And they'll be that way after I leave. Whether it be Chiang Mai, or Bangkok, or Costa Rica … or Miami and elsewhere in the States.

Each of these places have things to offer. They don't have to be what you've always envisioned them being.

And I really, really, REALLY, must stop trying to impose my views of perfection on them.

The best I can really hope is to try to take as much as possible from whatever 'beneficial uniqueness' remains in the places I'm visiting. By continuing on the path of 'hoping' these places will be as I WANT them to be, I'll simple continue contributing to the problem.

All that being said, however, I still think I reserve the right to get ridiculously exasperated about seeing a group of 20-something Euro-trash girls in some shithole backpacker ghetto-bar all dolled up like they're spending the night out at Crobar.

C'mon, get a fucking grip, you guys. I mean … really.

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I've not really voiced this publicly before, but one of the many, many reasons I decided to leave the United States in favor of traveling abroad in various less-developed, and less oil-dependent, countries is an underlying fear — call it a gut feeling — that all the pleasantries we've come to know and love in the Western World will disappear in less time than we are currently aware, or are prepared to accept.

Among the factors leading to this "gut feeling" is not only the unbelievable selfishness and arrogance of the general U.S. population, but also the socio-economic, religious, geopolitical and environmental issues that now dominate our world.

Now add to these problems the underlying element of "Peak Oil" — which will be manifesting itself soon, if it hasn't already (ASPO predicts that oil production will peak this year) — and you've got the recipe for an utter societal breakdown.

Due initially to my prior profession as an international and maritime attorney, I've been aware of this issue for several years now. However, for the variety of reasons you might expect (or at least theorize), the issue has not really made a dent into the general public consciousness.

That may be changing with the release of the environmental documentary, "A Crude Awakening." This film is fundamentally about how our entire civilization has been built on cheap oil, and how the world has been so thoroughly explored that many experts now beleive there is no new oil out there — none (much like the U.S. itself reached its own "oil peak" in the early 1970's and has gradually come to depend more and more on foreign resources).

The result of this ever-diminishing supply of oil will have effects that, to the modern industrialized world, will make global warming itself seem like a walk in the park.

As aptly described by one commentator, if "An Inconvenient Truth" could be considered "The Wizard of Oz" of environmental documentaries, then "A Crude Awakening" must be considered the "Rosemary’s Baby" of that same genre.

I personally think the movie, and this issue, still won't have a significant or lasting effect on the public consciousness, as there already seems to be a bit of "environmental protection" fatigue after the huge success of Al Gore and "An Inconvenient Truth." Indeed, less than a year after Gore won an Oscar Award for that documentary, the Live Earth concerts were generally recognized worldwide as a failure, and SUV sales in the United States have already resurged.

Regardless, commercial success or failure will not take away from the fact that the oil will soon be gone. And with that, there will be ramifications to the global economy and socio-economic-political structure unseen before in the modern world. And not to sound too much like a fear-mongering apocalyptic survivalist (because God knows I'm not — I mean, really, I'm a lawyer with an internet blog for Christ's sake), but when the gas and electricity prices spike, commodity prices soar, and things start to look a little bit like 'Mad Max," I want to at least have options.

And if I'm starting to sound just a bit too psycho for you right about now, take a look a this trailer for the movie, go read up more about "Peak Oil", and read some of the history (as well as the book, Dark Age Ahead by acclaimed urban-economist, Jane Jacobs). Then, if you still think I'm a bit meshugganah … that's okay, I get that from most women.

A Crude Awakening

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There's not been much commotion about it, but yesterday, 1 May 2007, marks the four (4) year anniversary of President Bush’s declaration of “Mission Accomplished” on board the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln — just beyond sight of the coastline at San Diego, California.

To date, the total number of U.S. military casualties in Iraq confirmed by the U.S. Department of Defense is 3355, and Iraqi civilian deaths are estimated to be between 62,770 and 68,796.

Just to put those losses into perspective, and not to take anything away from the other innocent losses of life, but last week this country mourned (rightfully, mind you) over the deaths of 33 innocent students from Virginia Tech.

Now try to imagine that entire student body murdered.

Mission accomplished, you say? And just what mission was that?

Shit, he's gotta be using an old Jedi mind trick - there's no other plausible explanation.

P.S. For the record, I am left to assume that comments like this (as well as the godless Bible commentary and "colorful" language from my immediately preceding posts) are why, as I have been informed by friends of mine, my blog is now being banned from military installations here in South Florida. My MSG would be proud.

UPDATE: On a tangentially related subject, I found it ironic this story also came out last night about how the U.S. Army is tightening restrictions on soldiers' blogs and other Web site postings to ensure sensitive information about military operations does not make it onto public forums. And while I think it's asinine to restrict access to public blogs and such (especially one as blatantly stupid as mine - hell, it's in the fucking title, for Christ's sake), in this case, I agree with Army Brass in large part. Although I'm libertarian/anti-censorship in general, that's the military, folks. There is the distinct possibility that someone may inadvertently disclose sensitive information - which could result in the loss of lives. That's a whole 'nother game.

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So, after getting entirely too intoxicated last night, logically what did I do first thing this morning after getting only several hours of sleep?

I went mountain biking, of course. Err … yah. Two words — Mis. Take.

Although things went relatively well (no broken bones), upon my return home I resigned myself to napping on my couch for the remainder of the afternoon (which has unfortunately come to resemble the vast majority of my afternoons of late), in a valiant effort to win the war against the alcohol in my system that had otherwise emerged victorious from our various battles earlier in the day.

Once back in the sweet, safe, and cool confines of my (for now) apartment, I popped in several movies that I've wanted to see (or at least sleep through), including one of the 25 movies made by Will Ferrell last year — Stranger Than Fiction.

It was a decent and cute movie in which, as usual, Will Ferrell gave a solid performance. But what i particularly enjoyed was the movie's use of retro-punk and mod songs from the late 1970's and early 1980's to set the tone. These are some of the most stylish (pun intended), yet still musically adept, songs of the era. I definitely recommend you check out this soundtrack for Stranger Than Fiction, even if you never see the movie (which you should at least try to do).

Among the great songs on the soundtrack is this song, one of my favorites ever from the band, The Jam (the precursor band to The Style Council). Both the song (with its great guitar and bass lines), as well as the accompanying video are surprisingly contemporary considering they were produced almost 30 years ago.

The Jam - That's Entertainment

Also included in the soundtrack are several great songs from the Austin, Texas indie-rock band Spoon. You may also want to check out this particular song by Spoon (which is not on the Stranger Than Fiction soundtrack, but still a great example of their work). I also recommend you check out the songs they produced specifically for the soundtrack.

UPDATE: I just saw this post over at the great music blog, Cable & Tweed, about this topic from back in November. They also have a few MP3's from the movie, available free for download - including songs from Spoon, Wreckless Eric, and The Jam. Check it out.

2d UPDATE: Rich over at Cable & Tweed advises that, "before I disappoint any readers… those tracks on C&T from the STF soundtrack aren’t up anymore." Oh well, it's still a good music blog worth visiting.

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When I went down to Central America, I didn't bring my laptop for fear of … well, for fear that I'd have nothing to make me come back to Miami.

As such, I transcribed - longhand - much of my travels. However, my longhand is about as incomprehensible as is Chez's seemingly eternal fascination with My Chemical Romance.

That, combined with the fact that I am apparently obligated to accomplish much more than I ever thought necessary before I sell my place and leave the country, has made my transcription efforts take much longer than I initially thought. I should have up another (Part II) by the end of the day.

Now if you'll pardon me, I must now go get the payoff information for my exorbitantly high student loans from the gentleman from Sallie Mae who has been fucking me in the ass for the past 10 years.

"Excuse me, sir? Sir? Could you please stop that for a second so I can ask you a question? And to stop the horrible, horrible pain? Thank you. Now, if you can tell me my payoff information …"

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