Wo gen Cathy qu Taiguo!

Thailand.  I seriously didn't think my travels would bring me here.  I know it's on most people's hit list for traveling in Asia, but it really wasn't on mine when I first left Canada for this side of the world.

Well, it so happened that Cathy could easily get a tourist visa for Thailand.  Unlike some countries (ahem...Canada), Thailand more or less accepts Mainlanders if they want to see the country.  And so Cathy and I chose it for a destination of travel.  And what a beautiful country it is.  I can now see why so many Western expats love Thailand.  It's freakin' awesome.  The weather is great and Thai food is pretty much superior to most Asian cuisine.

We flew into Bangkok fairly late, but caught the last train away from the airport towards our hotel near Th Khaosan, a major enclave for foreigners. Khaosan Road isn't accessible by the train, so we stopped at the station closest to it.  Typical Asian antics immediately ensued once off the train - arguing with drivers over taxi or tuk-tuk fares.  Fortunately for us, a somewhat confused Frenchman and extremely confident middle-aged Aussie were willing to pile into a taxi with us.  The Aussie bargained hard for all of us and won.  We got to Khaosan Road by 1 AM for cheap.

The driver dropped us on the other side of Khaosan and told us to walk through it.  We were confused, but followed his directions.  Walking down the foreign enclave at 1 AM with luggage wasn't really our cup of tea, especially with blaring disco music, half-drunk washed-up hippies, and half naked women.  Okay, okay, the half naked women thing I can dig.  But, it wasn't the most ideal hotel-searching situation.  We eventually found our hotel after a tuk tuk driver helped us.

The next day, we set out for the Grand Palace.  Although there were so many people in and around it, Wat Phra Kaew proved to be quite photogenic.  We stayed around the premises for a while taking many pictures.  After that, we went to check out the Sunday Chatuchak Market.  We went snack-food crazy.

Tuk Tuk rides are as fun as they are dangerous. You don't have much
of a choice but to take them. I didn't mind it, but I'm not sure about Cathy...

Wat Phra Kaew. Thais get in for free. Foreigners paid 10 bucks or something ridiculous like that.
I probably could have passed off as Thai, but I saw a group of Filipinos get busted for trying to fool the guards.

Trying some manual shots with my SLR.

"Are you looking at that handsome Thai guy over there?"
"Are you looking at that GROUP of hot Thai girls?"

We spent the good part of the morning just taking pictures of this beautiful place.

Cathy's rented long dress. We weren't allowed into the Wat unless we covered our legs.

Elaborate artwork was all around us.

Gorging on marinated pork kababs and coconut ice cream at the Sunday Market.

Fresh fruit smoothies.  I seriously couldn't get enough of these when in Thailand!

Delicious and flavorful skewers

Some sort of chocolate drink

After the market, we went back to Khaosan Road in the evening for dinner.  We went into a Pad Thai restaurant.  2 groups of white tourists were in behind us.  They were given bigger, nicer tables.  We were given the rickety table that leaned to one side.  Our server acted dismissive to Cathy and I and interested in everything this American couple were saying.  Also, they were seated after us, got their food before I even got my drink, and left while I got my drink after I asked for it 3 times!  An older female server got me my drink. The guy server was unapologetic.  I can't stand so-called "people of color" kissing up to the white man.  It makes me puke when Asians put on a yellow-face (or in this case Thai-face I suppose) for laowai just to seem "friendly" or "authentic."

Also, hen Asians look down or talk down to their own people, all I can think about is the word "traitor."  I've seen such a person before in the Philippines.  Heck, some students at the school display this spiteful attitude towards the Chinese teachers and counselors.  Uninspiring fools.

Is it too much to ask to be treated like equals?

Maybe the server hates Chinese.  I can only speculate, but he did seem like an effing racist who has in turn internalized racism and acts in a typecast way.  Way to go Uncle Tom.  After waiting an hour, after inquiring about our food multiple times, I threw down the money for my beer, and told them to get serving lessons before we left.  While the woman who served me beer seemed worried, the guy didn't even flinch.

While Cathy and I kept somewhat civil about this incident, I hope that server pisses off some Thai boxer in a 'roid rage who so happens to look Chinese in the future.  That'll teach him a lesson.

Th Khaosan

After leaving that establishment, we went down a side-road that veered off Khaosan.  Getting to a part-street-food-part-restaurant that had mostly old women as workers, we knew this place would serve up some good eats.


Restaurant tip in Asia #1: Food tastes better if there's a old person cooking.

The place was pretty packed...

Restaurant tip in Asia #2: The more customers in a walk-in restaurant, the better the food.

...so we had to sit at a fold-out table across the street behind some middle aged Italians.  Service was excellent despite the place being so busy.  After about a minute of ordering beer, it appeared at the table.  The old lady who was cooking barbecue seafood even came over to us and took our order. As you can see in the picture below, the prawns were pretty big.

Failing the Pad Thai, we opted for good ol' barbecue.

After eating, we walked around a bit more before going for our First Thai massage.  It would have been nice to go into a Thai spa to get our first Thai massage, but now I see places like that are just filled with useless gimmicks to up the price.  Cathy and I stumbled across a place on a road that was not frequented by pedestrians.  The sign read "Real Thai massage," but when we entered, it was a barber shop.  A couple in their mid 50s were sitting there reading newspapers.  They looked like they were a Filipino uncle and aunt of mine.

Bringing us upstairs, where there were 4 roll up beds on a bumpy laminate floor surrounded with tasteful but slightly worn netting.  It looked like something out of my relatives' house in the Philippines!  Once the guy started massaging me, I almost fell asleep because it felt so good.  Cathy looked like she was in heaven when getting her's.

Ended the night writing postcards together in our hotel room. What an interesting first day in Thailand!

Stealing the Seoul of South Korea! Part 6

I didn't take too many pictures on day six. Mama woke me up again.  After breakfast, I contacted a Hapkido dojang in Itaewon to confirm a lesson that evening.

I decided to go to two places: the business district of Yeouido and Seodaemun Prison just outside of downtown.  I started with the latter.  The place has a pretty violent history.  Patriots of Korean Independence during the Japanese Occupation were tortured and killed here in extremely painful ways (chained up and beaten to death with a lead pipe, anyone?).  Apparently, there are mechanical figure depictions of such brutality inside the prison.  Quite a different way of presenting colonial history than in Japan.  It's more in tune with what you'd see in China, Philippines...other parts of Asia for sure...

Seodaemun Prison entrance

A view of the prison from a distance. Closed on Mondays.

...Alas, I only know of this place through internet searches.  Unfortunately for me, it was a Monday.  As I should have suspected, the prison was closed (where in the Old World are museums an monuments not closed on Mondays?).  I guess I'll have to come back one day. Instead, I just walked around the area to take a look at what Seoul was like outside the city core.  The area around the prison was pretty nice, despite a large viaduct cutting through it.  There were various hills surrounding the neighborhood, and a jjimjibang across the street.  I wanted to go in, but realized that I should have my martial art lesson first.

I headed to Yeouido across the Han River immediately after, which was little more than a business district.  Walked the whole strip of Yeouido Park and got to the National Assembly Building, which, according to Kwangseok, "has better fighting than K1 boxing."  I've seen the news on this. Apparently, flying chairs, shoes, and fire extinguishers were frequent appearances all within the last decade.  Apparently the civilized aren't so much what they proclaim to be...be it Imperial Japanese colonialists, or suits in the modern South Korean Assembly.

Seoul has done pretty well for itself.  From having
patriots imprisoned 70 years ago, a bloody war 60 years ago to
glistening high-rises overlooking a nice park?

The National Assembly...or is it the SK gladiator stadium?

Taking a right turn, I went to the Han River and walked around a really nice riverfront park.  It was deserted.  However, Sue told me that many people pile into that area during summer and have fried chicken and beer delivered to their location in the park. Sounds like a good time to me.  I decided to take a stroll up to a Seoul landmark: The 63 story tower, which, by the way, is a beautiful building.

Practiced some manual exposure shots on this
Seoul landmark.

I went back to get prepared for my hapkido lesson and left for Itaewon early to get some dinner.  And then I saw it...Taco Bell.  Earlier, Sue mentioned that there was Taco Bell in Seoul, but we never bothered going there.

You people back in North America might be saying, "What's so special about Taco Bell?"  Well, if you say that to someone who doesn't have the vast choices of fast food as you do (ie: the bulk of people in Asia), you're rubbing in the fact that you are a spoiled and privileged elite.  Insensitive jerk!  Be more appreciative of what you have!

Anyways, I haven't seen one in years!  I totally ate there and it was delicious.  To most expats and Seoul Koreans, it's probably nothing. But to me, it was a treat equal to having a Tim Hortons coffee outside of Canada (which BTW is extremely difficult to find).

Next up was my hapkido lesson.  Walking in, I met some of the black belts practicing on the mat.  They pointed me to Master Kim - a really serious and well mannered guy.  After a short talk, I think he was a bit disappointed that I could only train for 2 days. He told me to get in a uniform and stretch. 

I had nice conversations with Master Kim's students.  All of them were English speaking expats: Brits, Americans, and an English speaking Thai gentleman.  I chose to come here over a Korean-heavy hapkido school for 3 reasons. First, I wanted to understand the instruction. Okay, Master Kim' English wasn't perfect, but it was understandable.  Second, I wanted to talk and get help from the students and master.  Third, I read online that going to a Korean-heavy martial arts dojang was only beneficial if you stayed in Seoul for a prolonged period of time.

This is because dojang don't initially accept you until you prove your worth and commit to their program.  I would go to such schools in a hurry if I had months of time in Seoul (which I plan to have one day).  But, lots of expats that go to these dojang just stay on the sidelines and mimic Korean students' movements for the first few days, if not weeks.  Wouldn't that be sooooo educational?  Would I have to pay for that fang pi too?

It started off real easy. To be honest, I've forgotten some of the stuff.  But over time, I remembered my basics.  I think after they realized I had some latent skill, the students and even Master Kim went harder on me.  Maybe they wanted to beat me up and get me out of there?  I'd like to think it was their form of accommodating me. 

Master Kim grabbed my hand and wanted resistance.

"Okay Paul. Strength." 

I gave some arm strength.

I remember that my old instructor Dallas told me that he once trained with Grandmaster Ji Han Jae, the founder of Hapkido. Grandmaster Ji threw foreign students around like sticks while assuming no consequence for the result.  He almost broke Dallas' wrist or arm.  He just smiled at Dallas and continued with the lesson. I suppose he assumed those foreigners were well-trained, which is a bit of a leap. Luckily, Dallas was well trained.

I see now that this sort of instruction is a quintessentially Korean thing.  At first I just thought Master Kim was just going to demonstrate to the other students, but then he threw me full speed, without warning, assuming I knew my break falls.  Luckily, my gong fu instructor Carol back in Wuhan made us do some rolling and falling. I rolled out of it without getting hurt. I did, however, receive a minor wrist injury later in the lesson.  Mama slapped a healing poultice on it when I got back to my home stay.

Anyways, I had such a fun and educational experience at the dojang, I decided to pay for a lesson in advance for the next day to force myself back. Unfortunately, that meant I could not visit the Toastmasters club that would take place the next evening.  Whatever. You do what you want to do and enjoy with what time you have on vaycay.

Now and then...(Wuhan, Hakata, and tonkotsu ramen)

It's been a while since I've written on here.  Last week at school, there were many things happening. I had to hand in interim reports.  There were a series of department meetings and a general staff meeting.  I went to boys' poker night.  Bled chips at the beginning, but by the end I came out on top.

 I also got fed up with my social studies students for dirtying up the classroom and leaving it as a pigsty every day.  So I decided to go military on them.  Look at how clean this room is!  I was told by some of my students that it's the cleanest room in the school.

A number of teachers decided to become hardcore gym rats.  Work out every day at 4:00PM. I'm one of them.  We hang out in the weight room after school.  Some of us learn kung fu on Tuesdays and Saturdays, and I go running around the track if I'm late getting to the gym.

 Okay.  Let's go back on the road...

Two months ago, I left Hong Kong for Japan.  I landed in Fukuoka (Hakata). What a pleasant city! Interesting things to see, and tasty eats!  It's the ramen capital of Japan.  After having ramen in Hakata, all other ramen paled in comparison.

When I finally got to my hotel, it was night time.  I decided to walk around the nearby nightlife area of Hakata (which apparently was one of the most famous red light districts of Japan).  I saw what would become a constant reoccurring sight throughout my travels in Japan - roving bands of drunk businessmen stumbling out of stripper joints.  Went to buy some food and called it a night.

The next day, I went to visit some shrines. They had these funny looking entrances where you had to go through a big guy's mouth.

It was fairly cold outside, and a sweet old lady beckoned me into her small mama-papa restaurant.  I guess she could tell I was a gaijin (foreigner).  Had some delicious homemade udon, which hit the spot.

Grannie also gave me a free ticket to go to a nearby museum, where I learned a bit about the Gion Yamakasa festival, where large groups of men run floats around town.

 

At night, I went to a place called Ramen Stadium for dinner.

TONKOSTU RAMEN!!!

Here's something funny I found out.  Apparently, to many Japanese, ramen noodles are Chinese pulled noodles.  But here in Wuhan, and even when I was down in Hong Kong, ramen is deemed Japanese.  The Japanese think it's Chinese, and the Chinese think it's Japanese!  I chuckled to myself as I finished my delicious meal.

Even though the Japanese and Chinese get on each others' nerves sometimes, I find it funny they don't realize that they have so much in common, and that they don't give each other enough credit for each other.  But at least they do recognize that the other culture can make something delicious like ramen. That made me have a little bit more faith in humanity, and made me warm and tingly inside...or was that just the noodles?

Identity politics...again

I thought I was through with being so pissed off about my identity politics after leaving undergrad.  I used to get so angry (like a lot of Asian Canadian/Asian American guys) at people telling me who I am or trying to define my identity for me.  I had my bout of wanting to be so individualistic that I spurned the notion of a culture of Chinese Canadianism.  I then realized I was being f***ing stupid.

I ended up believing that identity is like water - fluid, sometimes stale, but most of the time moving.  I am Canadian, but the story of my identity is both typical and unique, just like any other Canadian.  I didn't get angry over pondering over identity politics after undergrad, nor did I give it much conscious thought unless I had a deep conversation about it with my brother.

Well, the Middle Kingdom has a way of rekindling things.  I was walking with my buddies David and Nicholas down a place called Taylor Street in Wuchang on Saturday.  We stumbled over a Chinese Christian church and peeked our head in.  The guy at the door was really friendly, but he spoke no English.  He told us what time mass was being held.

Then the conversation switched.  I told him "Wo men shi Jianada ren" (We are Canadians).  He was so surprised, he looked at me as if I didn't make any sense.  He then went on a ramble to try to convince me that I was not Canadian.  When I told the guys, they both laughed and said that I'm apparently Chinese now.  "Even though my mom's a Surrey girl, my dad's Filipino, Vancouver is my native land, AND I don't speak Chinese all that well, I'm Chinese!? F**k this, this guy has a small world!"

But as angry as I was at the time, I think the guy began to understand me near the end of our conversation.  He did admit that I was the height of my white friends, so there was something about me that didn't make me fully Chinese in his eyes.

Let's just say that I feel tall here in China.

White people shi hen hao!

One thing I'll probably never understand about Chinese is their infatuation with white people and white skin.  I remember my first visit here was with a lot of white girls from Delta.  Every Chinese guy I saw was looking at them wide-eyed!

On Saturday, some of the staff went to Mo Mountain near East Lake.  I think every white person in our group was asked by a Chinese person to be in a picture.  Below you see my buddy Dave getting "celeb status" treatment by 2 Chinese youth. They took photos of him as if he were a zoo animal. It was like reverse Orientalism. It was kind strange to see.

Some Chinese guys being really friendly to my buddy Dave because he's white.

Well, things white don't really end there.  Today, during my ICT 11/12 class, a girl was presenting her Photoshop project to the class.  She said that Chinese like white skin, so she photoshoped a thin layer of white on a famous Chinese pop singer's face to "beautify" her even more. Now things went from just ridiculous to plain f--king weird.

But then I remembered good ol' Professor Henry Yu talking about this phenomena in his courses at UBC during my undergrad. It's got to do with modern Chinese ideas of beauty and health.  A really quick internet search shows that there's a fear against getting a tan here in East Asia, especially amongst girls.

But, just as fast, another quick internet search shows that many dermatologists and doctors warn against being scared of tanning and the glorification of attaining pale-white skin.  Hmm...

On another completely separate note, my buddy Mitch had a boy's night.  Poker and beer night to be exact. I lost 100 kwai.