As I move through different parts of Asia, into different cites and districts, as I meet different people, I am ever reminded of how fundamentally some believe in the powers of fortune. Here are some of my glimpses into the world of fortune as they’ve brushed up against my experience.

At Asakusa Temple

At Asakusa Temple

1) Asakusa Temple, Tokyo, Japan:

My first encounter with fortune came at the temple in Asakusa, Tokyo. I had read in some guide books about receiving your fortune at the temple and as I saw various people minding these small drawers to the side of the main plaza, I assumed it had something to do with this. So I went over to the long row of drawers and simply opened one to receive my fortune, written on a small piece of paper. Luckily it was in printed there in English -though the exact translation is perhaps questionable.


Fortune No. 76 Regular Fortune:

“To be rich or noble are given by God, you can’t get them by your own endeavor, and knowledge. Although you work hard with your best, it doesn’t come out so well without help of the God.

Coming fortune in future depends on all what you have done at past. If you be have your best to others, you can be rich and get honor by people.

Your request will be granted. The patient get well soon. The lost article found. The person you wait for will come. Building a new house and removal are both good. It is good to start a trip. Marriage of any kind and new employment are both well.”

I’m inclined to believe that all of the fortunes are similarly positive and generic. Yet, there is a little rack beside the wall in place to tie up bad fortunes and burn them. There were many burning when I went, so I suppose it’s indeed a good one. Additionally, I found out later that I was to pull a stick from a container in order to first receive my fortune number -rather than randomly picking a drawer. So I’m not sure how that effects me and if it perhaps nullifies the fortune. However, I feel happenstance drove me to this particular drawer; and so, that’s right enough for me.

IMG_10042) Chinatown, Bangkok, Thailand:

My next fortune came from a fortune telling machine beside an elevator in Bangkok’s, Chinatown. At first I passed them by on the way to a bathroom, but on the way back I decided to see what it had to tell me. I chose the scary looking one at right in the picture, half expecting it to be grim. (I was in a rather macabre, solemn, perhaps mental twisted mood.)

Now, I cannot at this point say exactly what the fortune said, as it was only written in Thai. But I am currently learning to read Thai, so perhaps I can read it myself and in its entirety one day soon. Yet, I did have my Thai friends translate it, but this translation was rather confusing; and I have a suspicion that if it were bad, they’d not tell me anyway. However, they said it was good.


From what I could gather, the fortune ran something like the following (I’ve added some finesse to enhance the symbolism):

I was a dead tree, black and withered. Nourished by the morning’s dew, a new baby leaf grows out of my old roots. I will now be ok, grow anew, and flourish. The court of justice had condemned me, but the verdict was awarded in my favor. I will have a good life and prosper.

I think there was probably more to it than this, and maybe some modifying words made what was bad into good. I do not know. All I know is that they seemed kind of timid and hesitant when telling it to me. Perhaps it’s not good to receive ones fortune from a machine. Or maybe they were just reluctant to explain an exact translation and preferred the simpler route of just telling me it was good. But I’d like to read it for my self at some some (given that I actually learn to read Thai, a task that seems monumental at this point and I’m on the verge of giving up out of newfound feelings of pointlessness.)

3) Wat Na Rong Buddhist Temple, Bangkok, Thailand:


I went to  the Sunday ceremony at Wat Na Rong Buddhist Temple last week. I must say I’m glad it was pouring rain before we left and that we arrived 35-40 late because we were there for a nearly an hour from that point (listening to monotonous chanting in foreign tongues while sitting holding my hands up in prayer position and staring into a leftover puddle from the morning’s rain.)

I was glad that I went though. I do enjoy communal spirituality on occasion and the novel experience was enlightening of a practical scene of religion in Thailand.

I’m not sure exactly who he was or if he knows Cathy, etc. But a man came over and proceeded to read my palm. He just came over and asked to see my hand and started talking to me. From what I gather he works in some capacity for the government or law. He said he studied English in America at some University. Although he spoke English rather thoroughly, his accent was hard to decipher.

The first thing he said was that I’ll have a long life, ie., that my life line is long. Several people in my family have lived into their 90’s and past 100 even, so this is not too outrageous a prediction. Next, he told me I have a good, strong brain. Now this was a rather odd, unexpected thing to say, I thought. I’ve never had or seen a palm reading where the brain was specifically mentioned; it’s usually love, wealth, success, length of life, happiness, etc.

He continued to look at my hand for a while saying various supplementary things; but mostly kept coming back to and harping on the fact that I’m smart, have a strong brain, a good mind, and can do great things with it. I can even be a doctor if I want, he said. As he swapped from right to left hand, he noted that I have two brains, even, pointing out the diverging midline of my left hand. This is very good, he said. I will do great things with my brain (I suppose that’s assuming I can master cohesion of these two different brains!).

The only other thing he noted was that my love line, -the line on the outside side of your left hand- is not deep. Therefore, that means my love life is either indecisive or undecided. I cannot tell which he meant to infer, but only that it wasn’t necessarily good. He showed me his -which was very deep as a consequence, I think, of his aged hands. Perhaps the older I get the more certain and deep my love life will become. All I know is that I cannot dispute the truth behind such an assertion -as my love life is currently undecided and perhaps appears a bit indecisive.

Also of note at this outing: I was mildly reprimanded by Cathy as I sat down on the floor next to the monk to take a photo, with “don’t touch him!” Not that there was a big risk of my touching him, but I suppose I was simply too close for comfort. He spoke decent English and said he studied in the states. He had a very happy demeanor with hints of a repressed anxiety and almost nervous giddiness that thoroughly conveyed the naivety of his experience in the presence of women.

As we were leaving Cathy brought over a guava that he gave her to give to me. Guavas are called Falangs in Thai – the same name for white foreigners. I was told they’re called Falang because they’re rare and beautiful; and this is why he gave it to me. Another man gave me a papaya as we left and the palm reading man gave me his card if I ever needed anything -I wasn’t sure if he was speaking about a job or what, but you can see the things I received in the photo.

4) Other things in the vein of fortune:

Upon glimpsing a photo of my family and I, I was told that I’m good luck and will have a good life because I have a face like my father. In the Thai tradition, a daughter will be good and successful if she has a face more like her father than mother. Although, I agree that I rather look like my father, (and it’s not the first time I’ve been told that) I think the photo merely accentuated it, as we have similar facial expressions.

I was also told that I was good luck because Cathy won some money in the lottery the day I arrived here and also I unknowingly gifted to her a lucky plant (in Thai called something like Bella Mi Setee Konuck), which is supposed to bring about money and power to the family who possesses it. Literally the name translated to a beautiful bird with feathers soft like mink, who has lots of power and money -or will bring about those things.

So, all signs point to something promising in the horizon of my future. I guess we’ll just have to see how all this comes into fruition.

Bella Mi Setee

Bella Mi Setee


Thailand, The Land of Smiles

IMG_0491IMG_0538Thailand is a beautiful place. Thai culture is so inextricably intertwined with beauty that one cannot mention the word Thai without thinking of lush exotic places and colors, ornate golden architecture, and richly satisfying cuisine. All of what means to be Thai is wrapped in a bejeweled package, where layers upon layers  delve into greater beauty and intricacy.

Walking around Bangkok’s, The Grand Palace and Temple of the Emerald Buddha, -where foreigners go to awe at the beauty and natives go to make requests of the tiny golden Buddha- one can see the visual manifestation of the root of Thai culture. The palace, like the culture itself, is a smorgasbord of design, color, texture, and detail. Pairing both clean and curvilinear lines with myriad finials and finishes, there is so much to see that if you returned repeatedly for years you’d never see it all -a reality true of Thailand in general.


Thai culture, like their rich food and ornate architecture, is indulgent, in a way. Yet it feels not like the bloated opulence of Western palaces, cuisines, and cultures. Thai culture is bejeweled and grandiose, yet has a grounded feeling that is one with the earth, a dirtiness, perhaps, that epitomizes its realness -as if it were built of mud rather than stone, or were a clean, beautiful girl walking through wet, dirty streets in a priceless gown that, with each step, colors and tatters the dress at its base, connecting the girl to the street and yet leaving the crown of her beauty unscathed, even providing tender contrast. Thai beauty is rooted in the culture of the earth and stands out against its surroundings, not as a starkly alien object, but as simply the earth’s manifested beauty.

IMG_0502Like a good Pad Thai -served garnished on top with a fresh cut lime, clean white bean sprouts, spritely green onions, red pepper, sugar, and vinegar, all the ingredients become mixed into what was the substance of the underneath noodled mass such that the lime is used up, the sprouts and onions darken and wilt, the red pepper stains all with its color, and the others simply dissolve with no visible trace. What you get from the amalgamation you taste in intricacy of flavor. Yes, the appearance changes and becomes something different, but the true gem is in the pleasure of the taste. Indeed, the recognition and appreciation of pleasure is what drives this creative indulgence, whether it be architecture or food. Thais, I believe at their core, truly appreciate sensory pleasure and happiness, whether it be visual, gustatory, or otherwise. Thailand is not called “the land of smiles” for nothing.

Girls I Met Randomly in a Bathroom

Girls I Met Randomly in a Bathroom

Furthermore, in contrast to more westernized places where you feel from people a real sense of singularity -an independence of going about rooted in one’s own mind and experience- it seems Thais are always with one another, moving and experiencing things as a group -or you could say as a family. Friends are, indeed, regarded more like family, a family that spends all their free time together. Extrapolating this, one could say it’s proof of love and happiness for one another. People here go about not alone in the world, but with a myriad of caring others. There is this friendly humanism about Thai people that is as if everyone is either friend or acquaintance.


Guy Helping Explain Things at a Market

Now I’m not saying that everyone is friendly or treats me like a family. Often, if not always, I’m charged more for things simply because of the color of my skin. And though everywhere I go people tell my I’m beautiful, perhaps they could also be speaking badly of me behind my back; but still, for me, Thai people seem generally nice and good natured -like they would rather help me than hurt me, even though they’d like also something in return. I just don’t so much see here the pissed-off, spiteful, lonely individuals who feel affronted by any small encounter that I’m so used to seeing in Western places -and particularly in America. And from this vein of closeness, it seems Thais believe in no such thing as personal space. Like a family, food, money, housing, and transportation are shared, and it is common for playful and pragmatic touching of one another.

In a platonic yet caring way, the sanctity of my physical isolation has been breached more times in two weeks than in the previous two years. Western people don’t generally touch each other unless prescribed by appropriate situations, such as greeting, parting, or special occasions of grief or gratitude. Yet touching ones hand or arm to lead in a direction or as an emphatic gesture feels thoughtful, genuine, and connected, like you’d be with family and friends. And touching strangers on the back of a motorbike or on a subway, is absolutely normal here as well; and perhaps it should be, being simply people moving about in unison with one another.

IMG_1843In this place, where people are more naturally human, it’s only normal the Thai fascination and regard for beauty and pleasure. What is further natural, Thais do not create order out of chaos. They leave the disorder, uncleanliness and realities of the environment to build something, at their timely discretion, on top of it. If one can relax into patiently abiding the lackadaisical flow of progress, then one can rise above things seeming haphazard and thwarted, to see beautiful patterns and infinite nuance of the system. Like the thousands of crowded little streets, alleyways, inlets and corners of Bangkok’s sprawling city, Thailand and Thai culture is permutation after permutation billowing and folding unto itself with a grandiosity ever grounded in the muck of real existence. Thais know and accept what it means to be a human with bare feet on the ground, ever sweating, smiling, and surrounding oneself good food and camaraderie. Just like the architecture, it creates something beautiful out of the earth.

Airports: Tokyo to Kuala Lumpur

Narita Airport

While sitting at Narita airport, having ramen and sapporo, I am scolding myself for not having planned things better. I just feel so utterly displaced here sitting in an airport ramen shop, slightly sweating, with a random mix of music playing, from country to oldies to jazz to rap. Indeed, there is rap music playing with explicit language -and loud- and no one seems to even notice or understand the cuss words and implications, I suppose. Amidst the slurping of noodles, the guilt about missing my flight, and the prospect  of spending a night in the airport, I cannot help but feel a little low.

Because of the typhoon my flight was delayed. Then, instead of taking the regular 40 minutes by train, it took nearly 3 hours. Some of the trains were not running due to flooding and so I had to say a random mix of trains that were out of the way and entirely time-consuming. Suffice this all to say that I stayed at the airport from my arrival there at 3 until the next morning at 10:30. There were no hotel vacancies available near the airport and I felt too bad about the whole situation to venture all the way back to the city and pay for another night’s room somewhere.

So, like quite a bit of other people there, I slept (or rather didn’t sleep at all really) in the ticketing area of the airport. Luckily, -which was something rather nice and  civil, as the Japanese so often are,- they came around and passed out sleeping bags, blowup mats, crackers, and bottles of water. It was kind of like a mini disaster relief effort there in the airport, and made the stay and the camaraderie there quite better than it might have been otherwise.

Malaysia Airport

After staying up all night in Narita Airport, Tokyo, I’m a bit less than enthused that I have a 5 hour layover in Kuala Lumpur. However, it’s a cool airport, so that’s something nice.

As I first entered the terminal I was greeted with the kind of humid tropical smell that you might find in Mexico or the Caribbean. With palm trees out the window upon arrival and flat looking marsh-type land as well, you could tell it was subtropics. All around the glass windowed terminals there is lush tropical plants. The most significant feature, though, has to be the mini tropical oasis in the middle of the main terminals, replete with wooden walkways and waterfalls.

It’s a rather small airport, but they have a tram that moves between the main two buildings of the airport. And the general vibe of the place is very Malaysian, like the Malaysian resort in disney world, with curved bamboo or teak roofs -and even with the monorail.

One thing I didn’t realize about Kuala Lumpur is that they have a large Muslim community here and that comes through the airport. So for dinner, rather than having satay, I opted for lamb briyani and samosa-like curry puffs with potato, boiled egg, and onion.

But aha I can say about food is that my enthusiasm for the food in Thailand is waning. The farther from home I get and the more novel or questionable food I eat, the more I feel kind of sick and less I want to ingest.

Yet, again, when I lax back into my ways, it feels both guilty and comfortable. Yet that is the rub, if I feel quilt, I will get weird and be a glutton -not to mention I will be miserable to myself and to be around others. Yet, if I’m simply cool with what I’m doing, and happy with it, then all will be well and good. It is something about my guilt, the simple fact that I possess it, because what it is, in essence, is self-doubt. It is doubt that what I’m doing is right. And if I have doubt about what I’m doing, then either I shouldn’t be doing it or simply not being hard on myself about it. All things are a choice, after all; and either I choose to do something and do it, or not. And even if it is “bad” to ones logic, or feelings, or external value judgements, it is all simply a choice.

Sushi Zanmai, Tokyo


Sushi Zanmai is an awesome, popular place for sushi in Tokyo’s, Tsukiji Fish Market. It is a bit touristy and has a long line out the door, but it’s worth going here as the fish is great and the prices are fairly reasonable. I went to their main restaurant, but they have also another, smaller restaurant within the market as well. I also had a line, albeit a bit shorter.

I had read about this place in guidebooks and that it’s one of the best sushi places in Tokyo, that it takes hours to get in, but that it’s worth the wait. So I decided to go check it out and endure the wait, even amidst the random fish smells and despite the throngs of people.



My wait was only about 25 minutes at 11:00am. Again, I must emphasize how awkward it is to not speak the language, have people yell at you as if you understand what they’re saying. and then, assume you understand what they’ve just told you. In addition, there are all these customs and rules in Japan that you’re supposed to go by; and you are partially expected to know them (like not poring your own beer or sake, which is something one cannot help if they’re dining alone). All the while, people constantly stare at you, as an obvious tourist, which cannot help but feel judgmental at times. And I’ve been told by expats and various others that the Japanese are a rather elitist group when it


comes to tradition: that they do not think anyone but themselves can truly master their customs properly. I cannot justifiably speak to this assertion, all I know is that I did not know nor abide by all of their customs properly, though I did try.


I had a sampler of the various kinds of fish offered, along with a few extras that I had in addition to the set sampler that I chose from the menu. There were several set options of various fish, but I tried to choose one that would give me the most variety. The one I chose consisted of: scallop (which was soft, light tasting, and excellent consistency), fatty tuna (which was delicious. The texture was spot-on, with a deep, buttery meaty flavor that could almost be filet mignon. I could eat a plate of it.), broiled fatty tuna (also very delicious. It is the fatty tuna that has been seared on the outside, so you get the best of the flavors both raw and cooked. It tastes a bit more salty the raw version. It being cooked, the texture is even softer and more moist, as the juices of the fat begin to come out), sea urchin roe (which literally tastes like a half-melted dollop of fresh farm butter dropped into the the sea), salmon, shellfish, egg, sea eel, albacore tuna, sweet shrimp, red snapper, salmon roe, and yellowtail (all of which were among the best I’ve ever tasted).
IMG_1553 My meal was also accompanied by staring off with miso soup and ending with a slice of asian pear and two plums. Though basically gorging myself on fresh, delicious fish, I did not feel a bit guilty or gluttonous by comparison to everyone around me, as they all seemed to me eating just as much in course after course. Moreover, I was only able to go here once on my visit to Tokyo, so I had to make one visit count.

All in all, Sushi Zanmai did not disappoint and, rather, left me feeling more satisfied than I had expected to feel, as I had somewhat doubted all the hype surrounding this place. Despite waiting nearly 30 minutes and spending over $50 on lunch, IMG_1558it was worth it. It was a great experience and I would not take it back or alter it in any way.

IMG_1552The woman beside me, and really all the people around, seemed to basically  be writhing in excitement to eat this sushi. It seemed to me like it was like a genuine treat and experience for them also, knowing, perhaps, it was going to be the best sushi they would ever taste I their lives! I had the feeling that some of the people around me had come from other parts of Japan or had

saved up money to come here, and that this was actually a life event for them, just as it was for me. All of this made me feel glad that I decided to come here, thankful that I had the

IMG_1551opportunity to do so, and vow that I would come back again in the future. I also had the distinct feeling that, because I had tasted such superb sushi, I would never be truly satisfied with sushi below this level of excellence. Alas, the double-edged sword of indulging in excellence!

Also, randomly while I was here, a family sat next to me, of which I struck up a conversation with the father who told me that he went to the University of Alabama in 1974-5, as a sports photographer for the football team! This is so ironic because it is exactly the same time in which my father was at the University of Alabama. It was so random and beautifully ironic. Once again, I am struck by feeling that life is such a funny, ironic place.

Harajuku & the Material Mind


On my second day in Tokyo I visited Harajuku. I was told that Sunday is a good day to go there because the young people who dress up in crazy outfits and cosplay gear come and and stand around for people to watch, take photos, etc. So I headed out, intent to see the spectacle.


What I didn’t expect was to go there, spend several long hours, and not even see it. When I arrived at the station I moved, piecemeal and gradual, with the crowd’s procession pinning me on all sides. If you want to see group mind at its finest unison, then you must come no further than here. Where bodies sway with the movements of the mob, where from above we’d appear as one organism, writhing and swaying as if kelp in the ocean, you cannot help but feel a distinct sense of mindless oneness.


From out of the station I looked around, was unsure of exactly where to go, and so, I did the thing on which I’ve come to rely, and let the mob move me. I joined in the direction of the mass and moved with them. It took me down what must have been the main shopping street of Harajuku. Tons of people were there, young and old, tourists, locals, nearly everyone carrying a shopping bag, people pulling little, hard-sided suitcases that must have housed their shopping.


Everyone seemed to be there for some acquisition. The tourists hungrily witnessed the New Orleans, Atlantic City, Venice Beach, type kitschy-ness, where wares and neon lights, cheap clothes and sunglasses, souvenir shirts, greasy street foods and good times seemed to abound. As the throng pushed rhythmically down the little street like a gesticulating colon, all eyes are accosted with so much light, color, and variety that, like binging on food, makes your head feel dense and foggy, beckoning the odd urge to steal away in an alley and vomit, purging this encumbrance supplanted on your mind.



But this is a hard view of it. It was not all bad. In fact, the farther along, the more I enjoyed my mindless journey along the river of sights. At all times, and now looking back on it, it was like drifting through a valley of temptation, where at every corner something yells out to be bought or consumed.

What had started as a simple journey to see novel things had turned out, inevitably as it does, to be a test of my will to hold under external pressure. And let me be the first to say that I am not perfect. As I so often do, I indulged myself a little too much, and awarded myself more than I probably deserved, all in the name of living experience, or “yolo,” as the kids say, I suppose.

So, yes, I did break down and purchase a few things and eat some indulgent treats. But still, as much as I want to feel guilty or chastise myself for not having an iron will. I think, rather, that my will speaks more clearly to me; and it is a good thing that I listen. Maybe, as has repeatedly been the case in my journeys, that by listening to my will and voice, I am continually led to places I want to be and to people I care to meet. And because I trust my inner guiding voice, rather than the voice from without, I believe I’ll be lead to somewhere great, even if it means buying unnecessary jewelry and eating too many sweets along the way!


Red Bean Paste Ball

Pork Bun

Pork Bun


Cat Rings

Tokyo Days 1-2


My first day in Tokyo was challenging. I spent all day basically walking around aimlessly, frustrated, hot, and a little bitter at the fact that I had underestimated the communication issue of absolutely no one speaking English. Yes, I was, indeed, lost in translation. I suppose it was naive of me to think that everyone took English as children in school like they do in Europe. I had no desire even to speak to the native English people in my hostel. I imagine they thought me rather antisocial, if not rude, because as they were hanging out and being friendly, I simply came in the side gate of the

Ryokan and went to sleep early the two nights I was there. And then when they were all having breakfast together the second morning, talking, laughing, and close as a family, I felt rather like an outcast intruding on their personal space. But I had to leave early that morning anyway because I wanted to go to the Tsukiji Fish Market and Harajuku. And my reservation was up there anyway, requiring me to move on to my next accommodation.

It is very awkward, by the way, walking around with a huge backpack in subways and on the streets when regular people pull around rolling suitcases in crowded areas such as Harajuku (a major shopping area) or Tsukiji Fish Market (market with infinite different foods and cooking accessories) simply to house their shopping. They do a ton of shopping here! So much so that it puts my shopping habit to shame and makes me feel a little better, yet also worse in that everyone at all times of day and all areas of town are dressed up immaculately. Not to mention, everyone here is so very thin, like sickly model thin, both males and females! I imagine they thought me an insane, disheveled, chunky white person.


So, on the second day, I put in my earphones, donned all-black attire, stifled my insecurity about being the fattest and worst dressed human around and made a better plan. Yes, a plan is almost necessary in Tokyo, if you speak no Japanese and can’t just ask directions or you have no cellular capacity and can’t just look at google maps. Much of the time the street signs are not even in English, so you can’t even navigate by them if you wanted. Whereas my first day I simply walked around going whichever way suited my fancy, my plan the second day was to ride the subway to stops of notable name and simply move in the direction of the crowd, gravitating with them towards bright lights, like moths to a flame. (This plan worked out pretty well.)


Perhaps I should have befriended the British, Lebanese, or Australians from my hostel and either asked their advice or went around with them. But something about them was not a feeling of freedom and independent open-mindedness that enabled them to venture around the world seeing exotic places, what I felt from them was a slight sense of desperation. It’s as if there was something wrong about each of them. Either they were a little old or single, a little young or awkward, or possessed some over flaw that rendered them abnormal and thus outcasted in their own society. As if they were here not by choice, necessarily, but because they couldn’t stay where they were and just had to go somewhere. Now, even if this is the case, I commend them for venturing out in the world. And, normally, these are my kinds of people. But, I don’t know, here it had the opposite effect on me. I could feel their longing for connection. It was something in this neediness, I suppose, that kept me from connecting with them, as if they wanted something from me that I couldn’t give. And me, being here only a few days, and purposefully unhinging from connectedness in life right now anyway, simply stayed distant with them and remained alone.

A lighter bag, a nice shower, and listening to music helped me to get around on Day 2 without feeling too overwhelmed. There’s something bolstering about being alone, a free radical, unnerved or swayed by anyone. There’s something dangerous and powerful about it, about being able to go anywhere and do anything without help from others. There is something about having confidence in oneself, even if that confidence is wholly or partially unfounded. Simply having the courage to go at things alone, possessing assurance inside you, and wanting for nothing external is liberating. You are what you think you are. And when you lose yourself and your sense of confidence and direction to do things alone, with only your own mind, then you’ve lost all. Having a firm grasp on one’s own visage, desires, and direction is the goal and purpose of a meaningful life. Anything other than that is simply to live a life with no home or soul.

10 Reasons to Fly Singapore Airbus A380-800

My flight from LA to Tokyo was on Singapore Airbus A380-800. The Airbus A380-800 is the largest airplane made, which holds about 470 people and caused airports to have to rework terminals to fit them, and Singapore Airlines is the number one airline in the world. So basically I flew on the most awesome plane in the world! This is weird to say, but I actually wouldn’t have minded a flight longer than 11 hours.


These are some of the awesome things about the flight:

  1. Suites: I passes by a door leading to “Suites” when I boarded. I don’t know what they look like, but I imagine they are amazing.
  2. Ambiance: Walking on to the plane they were playing classical music, and as we arrived, flying over a glittering patchwork of dark land, they played nice smooth jazz. It was classy and relaxing.
  3. Roomy: It was very roomy inside. There was plenty of room in the seats and between the seats and windows. IMG_1149 IMG_1150
  4. Food & Drinks: There was a whole booklet with a menu for drinks, dining, and snacks. And everything was free. The flight attendants walked around with bottles of red and white wine though out the flight, even, offering to refill those who had wine!IMG_1163IMG_1156IMG_1151IMG_1153
  5. Tech Friendly: There are tons of electronic outlets and hook-ups on the back of the seats, as well as electrical outlets in the arm rails that didn’t even require adaptors for US electronics.                                                            IMG_1161IMG_1155
  6. Entertainment: There were about 100 pages of  TV, movies, and music entertainment options. I was able to watch two movies and half a Season 3 of Downton Abbey, make a playlist of classic music to play between entertainment.
  7. Education: In addition to entertainment options, there was a novel “Education’ option with things like travel guides all over the world from Rough Guides, dining reviews from Zagat, and language learning software that enabled you to practice any of a large number of languages. I practiced Thai and it was rather fun.
  8. Hot Towels, Socks and Toothbrushes: When we were first seated and then later before our second meal, they came around with hot scented towels to wipe our hands and faces. They also gave us these personal Givenchy bags with socks, toothbrushes, and tooth paste.                                                                                   IMG_1162
  9. Flight Attendants: There were ample fight attendants. For instance, there were two for just our section of the back left of the plane. And they were very friendly and attractive, with pretty outfits.                            IMG_1157IMG_1166
  10. Internet: There was internet capacity for $15, which is not so bad for airlines.

Los Angeles


Flying over miles of flat, grey-brown squares and rectangles of existence, seeing no greenery or other symbol of beauty, I felt instinctually that I would be in for a challenging time in LA. It would be challenging, I thought, in that it would force me to grapple more directly with realities of wealth inequality, superficial values, material living, and jaded minds.

IMG_1103In a place where people visit simply to glimpse a celebrity or touch the pulse of fame in the air, I felt myself being pulled into a state of cynicism. Brief nausea waved over me, which I felt was a premonitory sense about the place, (though perhaps it was due only to the doughnut I ate for breakfast). I felt pride in that I was wearing no makeup, my hair was disheveled, and I was smelly and mismatched from a hectic departure earlier in the day. I felt, in contrast to my surroundings, abnormally real in my homeliness.


For such a supposedly nice city, LAX was not very nice. (Or, at least the domestic arrival terminals were not. I later found out that the international departure terminal was rather new and nice, replete with boutique and designer stores.) The terminal in which I arrived necessitated taking a bus simply to get to the main airport, like Heathrow in London, something you don’t see in newer and better airports with rail systems. But it sufficed, and I moved on to tackling the more formidable endeavor of getting around the city in long hours of traffic.

On appearances, other than the presence of a large Hispanic culture, which you see less in other places of the country, what struck me was that many people, especially girls, look much like they do back in the South. They are blonde and dressed cute, with a bit of sexiness. People have often asked me if the rumor is true that people in the south are more attractive than average; and, yes, I do believe this to be true. -within the US, anyway. And, from my experience, I also think this same stereotype holds for Eastern Europeans and Brazilians as well.



To be honest, when I arrived I hoped they’d lost my bag and I could simply be reimbursed and start over, having all I need on my person and in my electronics. For me, the bag and its 36 lb weight had become a reminder of my American indulgence and overbearing material attachment. That, and my recent indulgence in doughnuts, ice-cream, and chowder (see my posts for Voodoo Doughnuts, Fifty Licks, and Pike Place Market), felt rather gluttonous, to say the least.

I thought, on arrival, that LA would be horrible. I had many preconceived notions about the people, the culture, and the general theme of the place -like LA was a club and I knew for what it stood, and didn’t want a part in it. However, I realized after seeing most of the general areas of the city that this was closed-minded of me. LA is much like many other cities in the country. I suppose it took me walking around, driving around, and interacting with people to see that it is just people living in a place.



My first night I stayed in Santa Monica at Hosteling International, which was only about a block from the ocean and from many restaurants, shops, and attractions. I stayed in an 8 bed bunk room with two Scottish girls and a Brazilian girl, all of whom were in their early twenties. I’m not sure what I thought the Hostel would be like, exactly, but it turned out to be similar to my Freshman dorm dwelling, albeit quieter and more civilized. Everyone was nice and respectful of others’ space, seemed to clean up after themselves, and the halls were quiet by 10:00pm.

Now, the Scottish girls weren’t big talkers, so I spoke to the Brazilian, Maria Alice, and we became friends. I came to find out that many of the people staying there, like her, were going to an international language school about a block away. They were there for a month or so to study English in the states. I have seen many of these types of programs online and actually considered some abroad myself. So, Maria took me around to Santa Monica pier and to a good Mexican restaurant she had found previously. And it was nice, for a change, to have a shared experience.


IMG_1106The following day, while Maria was at school, I visited an old friend in Burbank. There is not much to do in Burbank, so we decided to go have coffee and then so walk around and have lunch at the shopping complex of Universal Studios. Something of note is that it was a peculiarly cold day in LA, one of which necessitated wearing a jacket! It was colder here than it had been a few days before when I was in Seattle. On this, the second, day, I had determined it is necessary to rent a car in LA. And once I was in and driving on the freeway, I felt liberated and knew it was definitely the right choice. Ironically, the Fiat I chose ended up nearly breaking down from some sort of engine malfunctioning later in the day when I had picked up Maria and was in traffic near Hollywood Blvd. I had to go back 15 minutes the opposite way in traffic and swap it at a nearby rental office for a Hyundai. It was a harrowing close call, as we almost did not make it there.

My friend Andrew

My friend Andrew at Universal Studios


On another ironic note, it was really cold on this day in LA, and a little rainy in the morning, colder than the previous 3 days when I had been in Seattle and Portland. Seattle was actually the warmest and sunniest of the three!


I cannot say that my stay in LA was too eventful. I spent most of my time driving around. But in doing so, I was able to see many different areas of town – and in LA there are so many different and district areas of town. There are typical downtown streets that smell slightly of garbage and habitation. There are, of course, the mansions of Beverly Hills and Hollywood, the quirky and trendy areas of West Hollywood and Silverlake, the beaches and boardwalks of Santa Monica and Venice. Driving around I felt at some point or another I could have been in any place, from Florida to New Jersey to Texas. Although much of what I saw had a distinct American, Southwestern, and Hollywood feel, most everything was something I’d seen in one capacity or another in other cities of the US.


The one thing I can say for LA, though, is that I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite that depth and breadth of a mix, as if all big sites in the US were put together and stretched out over the sprawling city of Los Angeles. For that reason there is a uniqueness to it and a sense that there’s something for everyone, if you’re willing to drive around in traffic for hours to find it!

Therefore, I can say that my perceptions of the city were changed by experiencing it face-to-face, which makes me think this logical progression of feeling would likely apply to many other things for which one feels an instinctual aversion. Therefore, I think I’ll return to LA one day. After-all, there are so many different things to see and do that one could live there decades and not indulge them all. There is something to say for this, even if it says a smorgasbord of existential and experiential indulgence.

Getting a Double-Entry 120day Thai Visa

Before leaving, I went by AAA to get an international driver’s license. All I had to do was bring a couple passport photos and I had it in about 10 minutes. Online I read some misleading blogs and posts on forums that said getting the 120 day Thai double-entry Visa was much the same, that I could just go in and get it. (If you can’t go to a consulate in person, you must send in your documents and wait for the visa to be sent back to you.)

However, you cannot just go in and get the visa in a day. You must go in with all your documents, leave and come back to get it the following day. This is something I should have known before going to the Thai Consulate’s office LA at 11:00am before my flight at 3:45pm that afternoon!

Anyway, I was very lucky to have the office manager happen to approach me and ask if I needed help filling out my form. I responded that I did and so he sat down and basically finished filling out my form for me. Then, when he said to come back the next day, I explained that I was flying out in less than 5 hours.

It took about 5-10 minutes of me explaining that I read online that I could get it upon arrival, that I’m sorry, and that he’s really nice to help me out. And so he did help me! They processed it immediately. If not for this act of kindness, I’d have missed my flight entirely and would have cost me at least $300+

In simple form, this is what you need for the 120 day Thai double-entry Visa:

  1. Visa form (which you can fill out there or bring with you)
  2. $80 Money Order (not a cashier’s check. you need cash to get the money order and can get it at post offices and most gas stations)
  3. Your passport (must contain a blank page inside) and a paper copy of the passport
  4. Two passport photos (can get them at post offices, fed-ex/usps, many other places. You should not smile in the photo)
  5. Copy of your flight details to Thailand (they might not always require this)

Also, just to explain, the Thai 120 day double-entry visa allows you to stay for 60 days before either leaving and reentering or going to the consulate and paying for a 30 day extension and then leaving and returning after the 30 day extension. Then you can reenter and start another round of 60 days, extend it another 30 days (or not) and then leave when either your second 60 or 60 plus another 30 day extension  is up. To note, you must either leave and reenter the country after the first 60 days or get an extension for 30 more days and then leave or you will lose your second round of 60 days because you never left in order to make the reentry visa valid.

Sok Sab Bai Cambodian Restaurant Portland



While wandering around the Hawthorne area of Portland, I found this little gem. I know what you’ll say, “Why are you eating at a Cambodian restaurant in Portland when you are moving to Thailand next week and will be right next door to Cambodia itself?” Well, all I can say is that something drew me there and the menu looked too good and intriguing to pass up. The highlights of the various things I tried are below.






Fish ball, Seafood, and Tamarind Soup: The noodles were fresh and perfectly cooked. The broth was gentle and delectable. And it came with a cart full of accompaniments (which I found to be typical as soon as I was out of the States and in Thailand): fish sauce, pepper sauce, dried onion flakes, Siracha, hot pepper soy sauce, and various other spicy sauces. But what was best about this dish was the fish balls. They were a pleasant surprise. The egg-like outside bursts open in your mouth to reveal an inside full of tastiness. If only my chopstick skills were better with these slippery noodles, I’d have eaten the whole large bowl!

IMG_1038Balut: a dish of slightly incubated duck  eggs served in the shell. I am not quite sure of the incubation period, but it is somewhere past that of a raw egg and a formed fetus. From what I tasted, all seemed rather moist and mushy; nothing was yet hard or formed. It is very popular and available all over Malaysia.  I had it here to give it a try before I possibly get it in some random street vendor there. And I also wanted to compare it when I get there. All in all, it was quite good. It tasted like  a mix between eating an egg and eating roasted duck or chicken. I did not drink the juice inside as is custom. It smelled like pungent duck juice, so I think I get a feel for what it might taste like -I’ll pass for now. This dish was not bad as one might think, though, and I’m glad I tired it.