the swimmers (july 2010 @ 晴天见)

The swimmers kept coming in past midnight.

They came strung along like packs of laborers making their way home

And with them they brought a smell of the ocean.

Their hair and skin were sticky and their clothes dripping,

Holding moisture from the summer air.

They walked by as if we were a candle on a windowsill,

There simply to light a path.

Late September

When autumn rolls around, there are those few days in Oregon before it rains. Classic fall weather in every sense: crisper air, leaves the color of rainbow trout, and shadows cast by the angle of our sun. I get only glimpses of it during my brief moments when I am not sleeping or enslaved in an office building. Memories of my childhood in the Midwest around this very time of the year hang around like reminders of things I need to do, but know I'll never get done. This year, unlike the last several, I can sense Halloween coming long before its fanfare. All of the costume shops, haunted houses, corn mazes and seasonal retail are on the cusp of blooming. Before that happens, I like to pay a visit to the unexpected alter of the Halloween spirit that was mysteriously erected in the window of the abandoned Hollywood Video on West Burnside. For all the vagrants in this area, I've often wondered if anyone ever managed to get in and make it their temporary home. It's dark and empty, save for a couple large dumpsters filled to the brim with aluminum cans.

The other night I wandered by as a bus pulled up to the curb and released a big, pressurized sigh. Someone hobbled out and looked confused, which is typical of any bus stop in this town. And just then I noticed the window display of tacky, glowing Halloween artifacts. It was the first sign of the season, that the summer had finally run its course. It began to dawn on me that I could accept the change for once, if only the autumn weather would shine for awhile in its characteristic way. If only this period of time in life would slow a bit, so that I may re-live old memories with enough time and energy to generate new ones. Yet I am so passive in both endeavors, time pays no attention.

day dreaming

The days are dripping. My stopping points are the weekend which can be incredibly slow and unproductive or exactly the opposite. This weekend is an example of the slow kind. I just enjoy not working. I have all these plans that are being shelved until the weather gets better (i.e. brief window period of summer). I eagerly look for any period that would be ideal for travel, even if it's just for a few short days.
The foreseeable line-up of course is a short trip to San Francisco in about a month. After that probably the brief stint in Denver for Julian's graduation in May. Otherwise, throughout much of the spring I will have my nose to the grindstone studying for the MCAT.
But for summer I'd like to have a few more mellow times to enjoy... well, the summer. I want to go to Painted Hills in the John Day Fossil Beds over in east-central Oregon. I want to visit Yori in Seattle. I want to go cliff-diving and fly-fishing in The Dalles with my buddy Jake.

Last night and this morning

This morning I couldn't hear much because last night I went to a black metal show with Russ. We went there to support our friend and old housemate Jon who has played in a few different metal bands since I met him back in '07. The crowd was small probably because it was a Wednesday night and Portlanders- even the hardcore metal ones- were anxiously anticipating snow.
Although I am not a fan of metal and its various sub-genres (there is a marked difference between black metal and death metal, according to fans), I enjoyed the show for a couple of reasons. First there is Jon, a shy and soft-spoken guy with long hair and remarkable musical talent. Then there are the others who are just hardcore. It's fun to people watch at these events. I had been to a couple of Jon's shows down in Eugene in the olden days.
At the end of the show, the crowd of perhaps 7 or so was standing there in the front row singing along to the band's final song "Hail Lucifer." Other hits that night were "Eternal Chaos" and "Doomsday Vigilante."
Then I awoke this morning with my ears under water. The first ten minutes of my day passed per usual: I angrily cope with fact that I am awake when I don't want to be. It's a bitter anger I feel when torn from the dream world in which I prefer to stay. But as always, the feeling wears off and I feel okay that I am awake after all. I was perfunctorily dressing when I gazed out the window and to my surprise found a winter wonderland outside. The streets, the trees, the cars were all covered in fluffy snow. Large soft flakes were falling in such a beautiful way. And for the first time in a long time, I was genuinely happy to be awake that early. In my isolated world of muffled sound and the silent peace of snow falling on fir trees, I relished everything.

best henry huang quote ever

in response to me thanking him for taking us on a night out on the town in shanghai:

"I would be proud to tell my son that I have ever been so crazy at that night!"

Food for Thought

For Valentine's Day I cooked up a veritable feast for Shawna.
On my tailored menu I included:

• Apple fennel salad
• Southwest-style quinoa salad
• Home-made french fries sprinkled with paprika
• Pan-seared scallops in blood orange sauce

The timing, the presentation, the outcome: all successful!

And in case you are interested in the scallop dish, I used this recipe (it's very simple):

http://fishcooking.about.com/od/scalloprecipes/r/bloodscallop.htm

Autumn in Another Place

Crisp blue November sky
and brittle plane trees;
the autumn is only subtly different
in this far place.
No matter how lonely it gets,
comfort comes with the familiarity
of only the past few months.
Extending before that
just speculations conjured
from books and fantasies.
The way the gray old buildings
sit like cracked tombstones,
the warming way steam billows
from vats of hand-pulled noodles.
The ugly street you develop a fondness for.
These are the things that remind you why you did it.


This is something I wrote recently when reflecting on a cold afternoon around 汉口西路 in Nanjing, November 2009.

disOregonized

circa July 2008

We turned a corner in the forest where things seemed calm, away from the parade of people prancing about in costume. We sat in theater seats beneath the shade of Douglas fir trees. The energy was exhausting and we needed to take a time-out. There was a piano there in the woods and a little girl in a white gown was playing it. A moment passed before I realized she was playing, but when it became apparent, the two of us fell into a deep and existential trance. The girl played Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. I felt a world apart from the merriment of the people there and all I could think of was everything dark and sad in life like that was all there ever was. I got lost in the haunting music like the undertow of a wave. It was for a time the last thing either of us wanted. When the song came to an end we stood up, wandered back and rejoined the circus. And once more everything was merry.

How Pleiku became a blessing

Pleiku was an important site during the Vietnam War for a variety of reasons. To the west, the North Vietnamese army had bases in neighboring Cambodia. Furthermore, as it is centrally located in the country's highland region, Pleiku was a defensive stronghold for the Republic of Vietnam.
We arrived there past 10pm after an 8 hour mini-bus ride from Nha Trang on the coast. How many 8+ hour bus rides had we taken in the preceding months? Too many to count...
Exhausted, we searched around the town for a place to stay, but it was seeming pretty remote and not much was around. We eventually decided to splurge on a nice hotel which stood out significantly among the other drab buildings in the area. (By splurge I mean somewhere around $40 for the night). It was perhaps one of the best moments of our time in Vietnam.
That is not to downplay the exhilaration of riding a motorbike amidst a sea of a million other motorbikes in hectic Saigon. Or exploring one of the most amazing and underrated cuisines out there. Or relaxing over sweet & bitter coffee in a town that resembled European countryside, the Pacific Northwest, and Vietnam all rolled into one in the hilly city (Le Petit Paris) of Da Lat. Or spending all day on a deserted white-sand beach with turquoise waters and fresh seafood kiosks outside of Nha Trang. These moments, as well as others, were truly wonderful.
But to access those moments was another story, one that guidebooks and older brothers fail to elucidate in their tales of adventure in 3rd world countries. The reality of traveling becomes a burden at points in time. Things add up, such as heat and humidity, dirty clothes, language barriers, money-grubbing locals, liars, scammers, sketchballs, long bus rides (as mentioned), waiting...
So the hotel in Pleiku was rather a godsend. On the top floor was a banquet room where multicolored lights were flashing late into the night and old Vietnamese couples were ballroom dancing a live cover band's rendition of the Beatles song "And I love her."
Shawna and I took a shower and wrapped up in the soft bathrobes that the hotel supplied. We put on the slippers, blow-dried our hair, and took advantage of whatever amenities a 5-star hotel affords. We dove into bed, at least a queen-size with plenty of room to sprawl out, and fell into a deep sleep, snuggled up from the damp cold of outside. The frustrations of travel were temporarily relieved. That was a golden moment. Regardless of the fact that the next day we were to wake up early and cross a remote border into Cambodia with little preparedness, the hotel was our everything.

one night in beijing

some of these pics i am merely posting up bc i'm fairly sure my computer will crash once again and i will lose photos again

Taipei 101

Taipei as viewed from Taipei 101 at dusk

one night in shanghai

One crazy night out in Shanghai with my friend Henry

大同

The initial bus ride from Beijing to Datong, Shanxi Province was foreshadowing of what was to come. We made an epic pass outside of Beijing through the mountainous region which encapsulates sections of the Great Wall. Further on, when we were essentially on the edge of nowhere at all, a nasty storm came rolling up. We were sitting in the front row, so were given theatre like views of what was coming on. And it came on slow at first: utter blackness in the distance at 3pm. Suddenly, all was eclipsed with blackness of clouds and burning coal and the wind which was blowing swept over little villages that looked deserted and ruined. I was strongly reminded of scenes from "The Road." It was seriously frightening, looked like the oblivion.
Then once we reached Datong, I discovered it is the worst shithole of the shitholes I've seen in China. Worst shithole city, that is. There was a creepy strangeness about the place. I actually liked it, particularly bc it was the exact place I had once conjured in a dream about living in a run-down industrial city. That crumminess and grittiness felt altogether familiar. Walking through certain sections brought me back to the vivid dream I had once had.
The specialty in Datong was rabbit head. We happened upon a street where the only restaurants lining either side were ones serving severed rabbit heads. Large vats of heads bubbling in five-spice powder (五香粉). Naturally, we tried one.

my dad at age 18

Here in Taipei we went to my dad's high school which he attended for 6 years. We were able to locate an old yr book with his picture...

cool building in xiamen

somewhere btwn baotou and beijing

At the tailend of our Inner Mongolian journey we took a 10 hour bus ride from 包头 to 北京. The bus driver did not stop once, except for briefly on the side of the highway during intense traffic, clogged up between endless trucks transporting loads of coal. During that time I got off to snap this haunting image of a nuclear power plant behind a makeshift cemetery.

everything will be out of order from here on out

With all the blocks put in place for blogging in China, all my entries have been and will be disorderly for an indefinite period of time. The actual order of events goes as follows: Shanghai to meet with Alexei, a spell in Xiamen, then Beijing to Datong (Shanxi) to Hohhot (Inner Mongolia) to Xilinhot to Baotou and back to Beijing, then a few days in Xiamen and then now I am in Taiwan. All my vignettes will be out of order. Some pics are mine, most are Shawna's. We go!

inner mongolia

内蒙古, picture taken with Shawna's camera...

downtime in Xiamen, rewind to Shanghai

That's not to say we are feeling 闷闷不乐, quite the contrary in fact. It's been a constant slot machine game with the weather: hot, muggy, cool, rainy, cloudy, sunny, windy, perfect. 老爷's mango dessert shop opened up in the quaint back alley near Xiamen University, its logo which I conceptualized and Shawna designed showing in all its glory. There have been hookah sessions, a private beach party, drinking games at home, chat roulette, coffee sessions, and a modeling photo shoot in an abandoned shoe factory for which I was "prop manager."
Now a quick rewind: Shanghai. Better than I expected since I let my expectations down. Jan's parents took good care of us and made sure we were well-nourished. One rainy night we went out on the town with my party-member friend Henry who works for Ernst & Young as an accountant. We had met in Nanjing in '08. We went clubbing and then continued the event back at Henry's cramped and crowded room until the birds were chirping in the morning, after which we slept in all the strangest contortions to fit in one room.
As for the World Expo, it took a day to recover in between, but we got our energy back for the 3-hour line to the Japanese pavilion. After that, lines weren't so bad and we fit in a number of other pavilions before the day was over. Of note was the old man with the pork buns tail-gating me, breathing down my neck in the Japan line. There is a photo-sequence which Shawna took that plays it out in a comical way and I will post these soon enough...

The China Pavilion