On Accountability and Surfing

Honolulu is a pit. Okay, that’s strong wording, but stray two minutes outside Waikiki, and you could be in any (non-vacation) city. Big buildings, traffic, annoyances. Kudos to my dad for suggesting no more than a few days here, and to fly to a different island for a portion of the trip (our original plan was to just visit Oahu). That being said, Waikiki is very nice, though uber-touristy. The place is crawling with Japanese. All the menus and flyer handouts have Japanese on them, and there are sushi restaurants everywhere. At one point it struck me that in the era of the Pearl Harbor bombing, seeing hordes of Japanese in Hawaii would have sparked a very different reaction. Kind of gives a glimmer of hope we could someday be taking our vacations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Man, that’s hard to imagine.

In Oahu, we stayed at the Waikiki Marriott, which had a nice ocean view (at first they tried to stick us in what I call a binocular ocean view room, but we asked to be moved). It’s a large whoop-de-doo kind of hotel with a shopping complex, pools, and restaurants. Last night, we ate at the on-site, Zagat rated sushi restaurant, which was 50% off on Mondays if you get there early enough. We got there early enough. Delicious.

Tuesday morning we headed to Pearl Harbor. We poked around the museum there, but didn’t do the video and memorial tour (the main attraction), as the wait was over 2 hours and would have chewed up half our only full day in Oahu. I don’t feel much connection to World War II or the Pearl Harbor attack, but I was interested that the museum had some models, pictures, and info of the Japanese commanders, warships, and terms. It seems obvious that the museum would have that, but somehow I imagined the museum would only focus on America’s side of the story.

It was also interesting to me that the admiral in charge of Pearl Harbor was held fully accountable for the attack, even though some say there was intelligence of an impending Japanese attack he was not privy to. I only caught a couple of minutes of the video on the admiral, but the fact that he was held accountable is interesting to me for 2 reasons:

1. I’ve just read a book on the unpredictable, outlier “Black Swan” event that is easy to spot (and lay blame for) only after the fact. I have a lot of sympathy for that admiral, who was likely a scapegoat for not predicting something that someone would have been very LUCKY to have predicted.

2. The top man was held accountable in American chain of command! The admiral of the Pearl Harbor fleet was dishonorably discharged. His career was ended in a heartbeat. What a different America existed in 1941. Abu Ghraib? A few bad apples. Katrina? Doin’ a heck of a job, Brownie, here’s a medal. The list is tragically much longer than that. Perhaps the most ironic current-day bastardization of accountability is that the man who chose to locate the emergency response center in the World Trade Center, after having been told by experts to put it underground (and not in a building that had already been bombed by terrorists), is now a leading presidential candidate precisely BECAUSE the attack he helped cripple our response to came to pass (the man is Rudy Giuliani). To quote from my new favorite book (“The Black Swan”), “Everybody knows that you need more prevention than treatment, but few reward acts of prevention.”

The waves roll into Waikiki Beach slowly and eventually. There are tons of them crashing at any time – out at sea, close to shore, everywhere. From an elevated height (our Marriott balcony), I could see multiple sets of waves heading into shore, staggered at identical intervals like airplanes queued to land at LAX. The waves seem to be in a constant state of crashing, allowing surfers to ride them all the way into shore (or until they lose momentum). Seeing all this, I decided Waikiki would be a perfect place to try surfing. Having lived in San Diego most all my life, it’s sort of sad it took Honolulu to get me to try surfing, but whatever. I signed up for a $40 group lesson.



After 3 minutes on shore showing us how to go from stomach to knees to feet, 3 of us paddled out on long boards behind our instructor. The instructor, by the way, was a little too cool for school, providing minimal instruction in that you-already-get-this-right? sort of way. But it sort of worked out for the 3 of us, as we all stood up and surfed on our very first wave try. I only “caught” a few more waves after that first success, and I could never duplicate my beginner’s luck. On subsequent waves, I was off balance by the time I stood, and just jumped/fell off when the surfing was supposed to commence. The last half hour was spent frustratingly trying to catch waves and failing. I think the swell was dying off, as Kelly confirmed she saw from the shore.





Let me say, surfing is fricking exhausting. I had no idea. I’ve been boogey boarding and bodysurfing my whole life. But surfing cuts out your lower body from the propulsion equation, leaving only a tiny muscle in the upper tricep/shoulder area to do all the paddling. That muscle reached exhaustion in about 3 minutes, and it was basically will power that kept me going after that. Also, I underestimated how different a longboard is from a boogey board. I can turn my boogey board 180 degrees in a heartbeat. A longboard is more like a dinghy. You have to plan ahead of time when turning that sucker around. And, at least at Waikiki, you have to already have a good velocity going when the wave reaches you. All of this means more exhaustion. After about 90 minutes, I collapsed on the beach and began to count my (until then unnoticed) numerous minor injuries. They were:

Portion of left index fingernail torn off
Lower, inner thighs and stomach rubbed raw into rash
Nipples rubbed raw
Skin on big toe torn off
Blister on palm of hand

I limped back to the hotel.



That night, Kelly and I went to a rotating bar atop Waikiki and had a drink, then moved on to a different bar with live Hula music for another. We walked the main drag of Waikiki, buzzing a bit from vodka and rum. Our bodies and minds were fully in sync with the slow speed of Hawaiian living. We were relaxed, we were close, we were probably both a little excited to get back home. It was a perfect last night of our vacation.

On Guava, Company Policy, and Airport Security

Monday was our flight to Oahu, but that wasn’t going to stop us from enjoying our last day on Kauai. We went back to Tunnels, for another great experience that included sighting a white-tipped reef shark.

Before the airport, we stopped by a guava farm, where they have a store that sells all kinds of guava products, except the one everyone really wants, which is guava jelly. The guy said they can never keep up with demand, and are always out of it. I told Kelly they’re idiots and should raise the price of their jelly until they can keep up with demand, which led to a discussion about free markets versus the “fairness” of socialism. My take on guava is that is smells better than it tastes, which is ironically also my take on socialism.



Checking into the Kauai airport, Kelly and I ran into a problem we experienced previously on our original Continental flight out of L.A. We decided to pack one large bag to check, holding both of our stuff. With both of our clothes, snorkel gear, books, etc, the bag weighs about 55 lbs. Both Continental and Aloha Airlines have policies that no bag can weigh more than 50 lbs without incurring a $25 fee. Having already failed at Continental to explain our situation in a way that allowed for an exception to be made, I foolishly tried again at Aloha.

Me: “You see, my wife and I packed one large bag together. If we had put the same stuff into two bags, the total weight would have been the same (actually, slightly heavier due to the extra bag), but you would have allowed that onto the plane no problem.”

Aloha: “Yes, but each bag must be under 50 lbs.”

Me: “Oh, right, yes, I totally understand the policy. I’m saying that policy is nonsensical, because from a total weight perspective (the reduction of which is the only reason I can think of for the policy), our bringing two bags instead of the one we brought would have been MORE total weight on Aloha’s plane.”

Aloha: “Yes, but your bag weighs more than 50 lbs, which is over the limit.”

Me: “Who’s on first?”

Aloha: “This one goes to 11.”

Not wanting to pay the $25 overweight fee on principle, I take out a plastic trash bag we had packed, and Kelly and I start loading it with our snorkel gear, some shoes, and whatever else necessary to bring the bag under 50 lbs (the same crap incurs no fine in a carry-on, crowded overhead bins be damned). Cut to 10 minutes later at security, where the plastic bag is flagged for having our newly purchased bottle of sunscreen in it. So we had to ditch a full bottle of $12 sunscreen so that everyone can feel safe on our plane. Now I start to spiral into righteous indignation (not out loud) and start scribbling thoughts feverishly as we wait for our plane. Let’s review America’s safety record, shall we?

Event 1: September 11, 2001
Security Enhancement : Locking cockpit doors, air marshalls, lots of other added security measures
Prevents: Event 1 only

Event 2: Richard Reid, the Shoe Bomber
Security Enhancement: All shoes
must go through x-ray
Prevents: Event 2 only

Event 3: Attempt to blow up planes with liquids on carry-ons
Security Enhancement: Severe limitations on carry-on liquids
Prevents: Event 3 only

Can you finish this sequence?

Obviously, Event 4 will exploit a not-yet-thought-of security hole, yet nobody in the security department has thought through our event-leads-to-hyper-specific-response cycle enough to realize it doesn’t make us any safer. An example: Richard Reid had a bomb in his shoe, so now all shoes have to go through x-ray. What if Richard Reid had strapped a bomb to the inside of his underwear? Are we going to strip search everyone? Actually, there’s a much more significant (and fundamental) flaw exposed by this example. Why when someone wears a shoe bomb onto a plane do we then assume that the next bomb is likely to be in a shoe? The 9/11 Commission Report concluded American intelligence suffered from a “failure of imagination” that failed to predict the possibility of 9/11 . I don’t know about you, but I think 9/11 would have taken quite a bit more imagination to predict than extrapolating from shoes to underwear. In the minds of aviation security watchdogs, bombs are more likely to be in shoes because in the recent past, one guy had a bomb in his shoe and zero guys had a bomb in their underwear. But it is precisely because now shoes go through x-ray and undees don’t that the next terrorist will be known as the Underwear Bomber. But just relax, everyone, the Hawaiian Tropic is safely in the garbage.

Tunnels Redeems Itself

Sunday morning we headed back to Tunnels Beach for a second try at what was supposed to be Kauai’s best snorkel spot. We were rewarded. In the morning, with the tide low and water calm as a bath, visibility was terrific, and we saw all kinds of creatures. Just off the coast of Tunnels is a quarter mile stretch of reef, ranging from 5’ to 50’ deep. There are all kinds of nooks and structures to see, each teeming with fish.



The highlight was our second turtle sighting of the trip. This one was much bigger than the first we saw at Lehua, and I got really close to him for a picture. Kelly has the honor of this turtle spotting. She found it after hanging out near a reef where she saw bubbles emerging through the cracks. The turtles sleep in there overnight and then emerge in the morning (note: it’s possible I just made that up). The turtle is the only creature in the ocean that will not alter its behavior no matter what you do. You can thrash in the water, you can swim up to them; it doesn’t matter, they are going to keep the same leisurely pace as if you were never there. They would make great European waiters.



We had lunch, a latte, and a smoothie at a sandwich shop, where we were served delicious food over the counter by snotty 14 year old girls. “Can I have a Panini with a side of scorn on the job?” Kauai in general has horrible service. There are exceptions, but many service industry workers are teenage girls, and it seems there’s nobody around to instill the basics of good service. It’s so hard to find good help these days on sparsely populated tropical islands.

We found one of the service exceptions that night at a restaurant in Hanalei. Really friendly service, great food, and a Hawaiian guitar duo that sounded really great. Some local Hawaiian women (and one of the band members) got up to Hula to some of the songs. For me this was the best dinner experience we had on Kauai, which I’m sure was not at all influenced by the fact that we came straight from a bar where I was poured a tropical drink that was way too strong.

Emma’s Bath and the Black Swan

Saturday morning we headed down the path to our secluded beach for a morning snorkel. It was low tide, and we couldn’t get out as far as we wanted, but we did see some cool fish as we floated across the shallow coral. We vowed to come back when it was high tide (though we never made it back).





Having been out and about constantly for the past few days, we decided to just hang out in our condo and read/write in the afternoon, which was very relaxing. I would have thought I would miss the internet like crazy, but I didn’t. It just goes to show how bad humans can be at predicting things. My travel reading is a book called “The Black Swan – The Impact of the Highly Improbable.” It’s fascinating stuff, all about how we are horrible at predicting future events, but never realize it, since after the events we look back and convince ourselves it was, in fact, predictable. There are many reasons for this phenomenon, but a principal one is that our memories are reconstructed each time we “remember”. There is no accurate ticker tape to go back to and check what we were really aware of at a given time. For instance, many people look back on the internet bubble of the late 90s, convinced they knew at the time it was a bubble about to burst. While a SMALL number of analysts actually did envision the internet bubble bursting before it did, the vast majority of people (myself included) and financial “analysts” were convinced we were in a new era where old rules didn’t apply. To everybody looking back on it, the crash seems like an obvious result, and we humans naturally impose today’s obviousness on yesterday’s memory. This phenomenon causes us to underestimate the randomness and unpredictability of life - we remember ourselves predicting more than we did. The “Swans” author is not shocked that we make these errors, but is amazed that we never catch on and realize we keep making the same error over and over again. One thing to think about: why do the majority of people still listen to and believe in the financial analysts (the supposed experts) that were SO wrong about the internet bubble, when it was so costly to be wrong?

In the afternoon, we headed over to Queen Emma’s Bath, which is an oval shaped swimming hole protected from the ocean by a natural formation of lava rocks. The guide book gave it an A for snorkeling, but it was crap. The water was all silty, making for poor visibility. It actually felt more like a pool than the ocean, which would have been cool if it were clean and uncrowded, but it was neither. The long hike down to the bath was worthwhile, however, as the rocks throughout the area were swimming with turtles, who had showed up for their afternoon algae feast. They come up for air every minute or so, when you can catch them with your camera.









That night, we headed into Hanalei for an early dinner of delicious pizza (again) followed by shave ice. When selecting a shave ice establishment, make sure their machine shaves from a solid ice block. Some places just feed ice cubes into an ice crusher, yielding a snow cone effect. It doesn’t hold the syrup as well, and it’s not as good as the cloud-like airiness of correctly shaved ice. Once I figured that out, I would shake my head in pity whenever I saw someone with an inferior shave ice in hand. Poor bastards. Also, the best flavor is (artificial) guava.

After dinner, we headed to the Hanalei Bay resort for a drink. Pulling into the parking lot, there was a guy manning the entrance, whom the car in front of us stopped to get instructions from. When it was our turn, we pulled up and said we wanted to have a drink at the bar, to which he replied, “Okay, go ahead and park.” I couldn’t come up with what we could have told him that would have resulted in a different response. I laughed out loud that it was this guy’s job to state the obvious. I’m sure he was recently promoted into his current job after having done such a good job handing out soap and paper towels at the local upscale nightclub. Yeah, cause that deserves a tip.

The bar at the Hanalei Bay Resort fits perfectly into Kauai’s landscape. It’s an open-air bar tucked into a little rainforest, with trickling water pools, colorful birds darting between the greenery, and a 50-foot canoe running diagonally along the entire ceiling. Almost as soon as we sat down, it started raining, then pouring. Kelly and I noted the serendipity of our having just missed getting soaked, yet being able to enjoy the rainforest atmosphere in all its glory. We drank Lava Flows and Mudslides while the blues rock band played.

Rain Forest and Poipu

Friday morning, we drove to the rain forest at Kokee State Park. Basically, you ascend (by car) through a series of beautiful lookouts. At the top, about 4000 feet up, we hiked a trail (that kept getting muddier) as fog and rain constantly shifted overhead. The view of the canyon below went from visible to invisible as the weather changed by the minute.















That afternoon, we headed to Poipu, the most popular beach destination on Kauai. Poipu is just like I remember it from when my family and I stayed there in 1991. It feels like a different island from the north, as the sun in Poipu seems to shine in a much brighter way. It’s a lot more touristy than the north, but not in a bad way. It has everything: bodysurfing for the teens, a wading pool for the kids, and booze and sunshine for adults.

I went bodysurfing at Brennekes Beach…for about 10 minutes, until I caught a wave I wished I hadn’t. Basically, the wave rode me. I was thinking of coming in anyway, when Kelly flagged me out of the water. She had found some turtles feeding on the rocks right next to where I was bodysurfing. It was a religious experience for Kelly. She loves her some turtles, let me tell you.





That night we had dinner just outside Princeville at a nice open-air restaurant. After our drink but before dinner, Kelly started moving her upper torso back and forth, and her arms up and down while chanting “High-uh-ho-uh, high-uh-ho-uh.” It was immediately obvious (to me) that she was doing a rain dance, as Kelly loves the rain and we hadn’t seen any (at sea level) on our trip yet, which is unusual, especially for the north. As soon as she started chanting, it began to rain – I kid you not. Kelly helped alleviate my disbelief when she reminded me that she is, in fact, part Cherokee. We made it past sundown before falling asleep, but not by much.

Na Pali and Lehua

As soon as we arrived at our condo, we had booked a boat tour to see the Na Pali coast and snorkel at Lehua Island. Thursday morning at 4:30am, we left our condo for the hour-long drive to the south of the island to catch our boat. We left well before the sun came up, and the stars were out. I don’t think I’ve ever seen stars as bright and as all emcompassing as they were that night. Kelly and I vowed to get up super early again to watch them on a morning we didn’t have to drive, but they never came out again like that. Some combination of moon configuration and cloud absence conspired that one time for star perfection.

The tour of the Na Pali coast was pretty cool. There were some beaches that are only accessible by kayak with hippies doing yoga on them. We came across a large group of spinner dolphins, which swam right beside our boat.









The boat then set off for Lehua, an island about an hour’s boat ride from Kauai. Either Lehua or the island next to it is private, bought by some super-religious folks who wanted a controlled (read: non-pagan) environment for their daughters to grow up in. I’m not sure how the daughters turned out, but the snorkling off Lehua was great. The spot we anchored at had a reef formation (as well as a mini-cave) that sloped down the side of the island, so there were spots a few feet deep all the way down to perhaps 100 to 150 feet deep. That spot probably had the best visibility of any water I’ve ever been in. You could easily see all the way to the bottom of the deepest part (the guides said at Lehua 80 feet visibility is a bad day). A highlight was when out of the clear blue swam a green turtle. He swam up for a picture, then mozied (turtles mozy) on by. We also saw the monk seal that we were told usually hangs out there, swimming about 60 feet below the surface. There are 30 monk seals in the Kauai area (out of some 1300 total remaining worldwide), and our guide explained they’re endangered and probably won’t be there in another 15 years.



As we were pulling out of the snorkel spot, the captain came on the megaphone and said, “Whale shark…guys…whale shark.” His voice was at normal volume, but contained a subdued excitement. Still, the captain had been pointing out various marine life all day, so I wasn’t sure if it was significant or not. I realized it was a big deal from the crew’s reaction. As soon as the announcement was made, their faces showed urgency, and they rushed ahead of all the guests (whom they had previously been waiting on hand and foot) to get to the bow of the ship. I headed to the bow myself, and after the captain explained it was 1.5 boat lengths in front of us on the left, I saw it: a gigantic gray blob just below the surface of the water. I knew it was a whale shark from the announcement, but my mind categorized it as a whale, as that is the only category of necessary size in which I could place it. It turned around and swam to the back of our boat. When I turned around, I saw 3 crew members already in the water with masks on, surrounding the behemoth. They each were petting it, and one grabbed its back fin and briefly rode it. They started hollering for guests to toss them their waterproof cameras for pictures, which a lucky few did (I was late). As the crew climbed into the boat, the captain said the guests could get in the water for a once in a lifetime experience. Kelly, I, and 3 others grabbed our masks and scampered into the water behind the only crew member who hadn’t yet been in the water with it. I was just behind the crew member, and swam out to where he was positioned (I was the first to get there). Under the water, he pointed to the shark. I saw the spots along the thin part leading to the tail, and could make out the gigantic gray blob of his entire form. I had grabbed my camera, but I wasn’t close enough for a shot that would show anything. By the time everyone else got to where the instructor was, the shark had moved on. Damn! I would love to have pet it.

It turns out spotting a whale shark is extremely rare. Each crew member had seen them an average of 3 times in their careers, and the last spotting for each averaged 1 to 2 years ago. So we were extremely lucky to have come upon one that day. As you may have guessed, whale sharks are a filter fish, don’t have teeth, and aren’t dangerous (tell that to the krill). Though once I saw the 3 crew members dive in on a moment’s notice, I knew it was harmless without having to be told. Kelly and I kept wondering what would have happened if that shark had shown up moments before and we had swum upon it during our snorkel hour. Whale sharks are the biggest fish in the ocean. This one was 30 feet long and “whale-like” is the only way I can do justice to the girth. Would we have panicked? Thrashed and swum away? One thing is for sure, an effeminate scream would have been heard from the end of my snorkel.



The hour-long boat ride back was an “E ticket ride”, as the captain explained, then realized most people don’t know what that means anymore. The open ocean had gotten rough, and we bounced through the waves to get home. When a particularly big swell would come along, the captain would have to lay off the throttle momentarily, before ramping it back up again. I made the mistake of trying to grab a cookie from the counter and get back to my seat. I lost my footing, but hurt nothing but my pride.

That night, we picked up an unbelievably good pizza from Pizza Hanalei and went to sleep before the sun went down. We were exhausted.

Ke’e and Tunnels

Wednesday morning we headed out to Ke’e beach. Driving along the sleepy, one-lane (each way) road, we queued at the one-lane (total) bridges, carefully waiting our turn to cross. One should stop after 7 or 8 cars have passed to let the other side go. At least, according to guide books, that would show one’s “Aloha Spirit.” Speaking of Aloha Spirit, when we were landing in Oahu, a video came on with Hawaii’s governor personally welcoming us: “Welcome to Hawaii. Here in our wonderful state, we have beautiful oceans, mountains, and valleys, and our people all have the friendly Aloha Spirit.” I joked to Kelly that every state should have such a video played during airplane landings. Like Jersey, for instance: “We have the finest mob ties and smokestacks in the U S of A. And we all have the spirit of F*&% YOU.”

Our peaceful beach drive was abruptly interrupted by an explosion. My amygdala registered a 7.0 on the fight/flight Richter scale. I chose (well, I didn’t choose, it was reflex) flight, which in a car meant crouching and yelling out with cowardice. Then my frontal lobe began rifling through possible explanations for what had happened. Did the car run over something? No, I didn’t feel us hit anything. Was there an explosion? Yes, there was most certainly an explosion off the road to our back right side. I reached this conclusion approximately 3 seconds after the noise.

Kelly and I still can’t say with 100% certainty what it was, but leading evidence points to Kelly’s explanation: our car was struck by a falling coconut. We stopped the car and checked the roof, and sure enough there was a wet spot with trace amounts of debris on the right back of the car. We were going to have it checked out by a forensics team, but alas there is no CSI Hawaii (yet, but give it a few more seasons). I vowed to pray less hard for Piña Coladas.

The wind and high tide at Ke’e beach made for bad snorkeling conditions. We spent more time watching the wild chickens run around the beach poking their beaks into people’s bags for food. We left Ke’e for Tunnels Beach just down the road, which had similarly bad conditions. We were a bit bummed and wondered if we had overestimated the snorkeling.





In preparation for the anticipated great snorkeling, Kelly and I splurged before our trip on good quality masks and snorkels. They worked really well. Kelly finally got a mask that doesn’t leak on her. And we bought the top quality snorkels, which are absolutely worth it. They are fully surrounded at the top, so no water can splash in, and when you swim under water, a valve shuts the hole so that when you come back up, you can breathe without having to clear the snorkel. Brilliant, and it actually worked, which I couldn’t believe.

That night, we went to the Princeville resort for a drink and dinner. The resort had ridiculous views of the ocean, including the surfers and paddle surfers catching sunset waves. Paddle surfing, which it seems is now somewhat popular on Kauai, is where you stand on the surfboard the whole time with a paddle in hand, and row yourself into waves. From what I saw, paddle surfers have a hard time catching waves. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be the next “snowboarding” (which caught up to/took over skiing). We had a fancy meal at the resort, then went home and got to bed nice and early to the sound of crashing waves outside our window.

Best Condo Ever

Kelly and I took a last minute trip to Hawaii. We decided we wanted to go soonish, and the vacation schedule of the rest of my team at work actually made the best time to go the very next week. So we made the reservations and left soon after, only getting about 25% of the anticipation time of a normal vacation. Works for me.

Arriving at our condo in Princeville, Kauai, Kelly and I were met with an outstanding view of the ocean. Princeville is perched some 200 feet above the water on the north shore of Kauai. Our condo had a view from every room, and a quick open of the sliding windows let in a strong, cool breeze. There would be no need for A/C here, which is good, because there was none (not even fans, which initially surprised me). We reveled for at least an hour in the great condo we had landed.



Not feeling very jetlagged, we got some groceries at the nearby market, where everything was about 25% more expensive than in San Diego. After stocking up the place, we headed to dinner in nearby Hanalei. We had a (mediocre) Piña Colada at a bar, then made our way to a fish restaurant down the road. Why is Kelly walking in front of me? Is she mad about something? Hmm, never mind that thought. Perusing the menu at the fish place, I noticed it’s pretty spendy. On top of that, I notice I’m not really hungry. I tell Kelly I think we should wait on a nice meal until a night we’re actually hungry. She agrees, and we head across the street to another fish place. Kelly walks ahead of me again and now my confidence falls through the floor. Man, I must be tired or something. The second place is spendy as well, but I’m paralyzed to make a decision to eat there or not. Kelly is too. At one point, we thought of just having an appetizer, but I got paranoid they would be mad if we didn’t order an entrée. I just stood there in the middle of the restaurant like a deer in the headlights, feeling hopelessly out of place and self-conscious. I had to get back to the safety of our condo ASAP. Crap, what was going on in my head?

On the way home I realized what was going on. The drink we had was spiked with Ketamine. Just kidding. The drink did, however, set into motion a state of mind I experience predictably after arriving at a new place. I get tired, feel sad and out of place, and can’t deal with people and need to be by myself in solitude (being with Kelly counts as solitude). This has been the case for me since I was young, and it’s never gone away. Especially if there’s a time change involved, you can bet I’ll be a pathetic mess until I’ve slept in the new destination. You know you’ve got an issue if you feel nervous in Kauai, the most relaxing place ever. It came on so fast it took me a while to realize what hit me. In any case, Kelly and I each ate half a sandwich at the condo and went to bed.

At The Margin

After reading of the fun I had with the Nigerian money scammer, my friend Noah sent me a link to a site where some British guys have documented their own interactions with a scammer. It is the best example of comeuppance I have ever read. These guys were actually able to run a scam on a scammer, and they have compiled painstakingly detailed documentation in the form of emails, phone calls, and video footage. It’s worth a read (whatever you have time for, it’s ridiculously long): http://www.419eater.com/html/martins_davis.htm.

At the margin, Kelly understands me. I say “at the margin” because I now regularly read a ton of financial news articles, and they all seem to work in the phrase “at the margin”. For instance, a recent Economist article entitled “Consider the alternatives” (Apr. 28, 2005), states “These blended alternatives may eventually help check OPEC's pricing power at the margin...” I think “at the margin” refers to the fact that people will buy marginally more when something is cheaper and marginally less when it is more expensive. However, it seems to me the phrase is superfluous, as “pricing power” seems to sum it up. As if this weren’t bad enough, in a January 20, 2005 article, the Economist writes “Instead, the president is likely to focus on making his first-term tax cuts permanent and introducing some other changes at the margin.” Again, superfluous. Read the sentence back without our newly-recognized egregious phrase, and it conveys exactly the same meaning. Now I know what you’re thinking: maybe it’s just the Economist. Nope, I read it all the time. If you understand what the heck it adds, please clue me in.

So anyway, at the margin, Kelly understands me. But every once in a while she does something that would indicate she has no idea who I am. This happened today. I’m in improv shows this Saturday, and because of this I cannot make my friend Rich’s party (the astute reader will have properly concluded that Rich’s party is on Saturday). I briefly tried to switch with another improviser so that I could get out of the shows, but my half-hearted attempts were unsuccessful. Anyway, Kelly calls me today and says she was invited to one of her co-workers weddings on Saturday, and wondered if I wanted to go with her, saying “Maybe this will give you the incentive to switch out of your Saturday shows.” Hold the phone. Are you fricking kidding me? What would possess Kelly to think that I would want to attend the wedding of a stranger, let alone more than a friend’s party? I’m stumped on this one. Unfortunately, so far I have been unable to convert this occurrence into any “I’m so misunderstood” points. Alas, that only works so many times. Plus, I’m too busy evaluating the seriousness of Kelly’s threats that there will be firemen at the wedding.

I have come to understand the difference between the television shows “24” and “The O.C.”. Of course, there are many, many differences. But I’m talking about the core basis of the shows, the very substance they are…okay, really it’s just something I noticed. Every once in a while, I’ll catch an O.C. It’s a show that I feel bad about watching, but last night I enjoyed watching it more than any show that requires my brain. What I realized is that the catalyst for the show’s plot is delayed communication. Girl gets sexually assaulted by boyfriend’s brother (an assault that is triggered when he is overcome by his uncommunicated feelings for her) while boyfriend is away. Boyfriend returns, and girlfriend is acting weird. Boyfriend asks what is wrong, and girlfriend displays overt signs that something is VERY wrong, yet they don’t communicate about it and the topic is put off until later (“later” being all throughout the 2 hour special and into next week’s episode). This communication delay happened in every plot line in the show. And well it should. That’s all they’ve got. The whole show is about who’s banging who, who’s cheating on who…so if everyone is in perfect communication, there’s no show.

Contrast this with “24”. I would rejoice if during just one episode the characters could put off one emotional discussion until later. A nuclear bomb is within two hours of exploding in Los Angeles, yet terrorist fighter Tony needs to explain to his girlfriend/boss Michelle right now that he’s missed her since she moved out. When you’ve got a nuclear bomb, you don’t need miscommunication to keep your viewers from week to week. But how I wish the writers thought they did. Enough with the extraneous emotional yapping. They should start a new show called “6”. It’s all Kiefer, all the time, kicking ass. They’d have a shorter season, but due to the increased watchability, they’d rack up way more eyeball-hours, at the margin.

Nigerians - Rich but always in need of help

I finally got the chance to write back one of those "Nigerian" guys offering me millions of dollars to assist him. Below is my rather lengthy email exchange with Kenneth.
Color scheme: Kenneth's emails are bullshit blue, My emails are greedy green.

Dear friend,

I am Mr. Kenneth Obi senior manager accounts/audit department, in first bank of Nigeria Plc. DR. GEORGE BRUMLEY, who was a contractor with Shell-development Company in Nigeria and a personal friend Died and left behind his deposit in this bank (FIRST BANK NIGERIA PLC) valued USD 20,723,822.90.

I am writing to seek your cooperation over this business deal. In my department, I discovered an abandoned sum of USD 20,723,822.90., (Twenty Million,seven hundred and twenty three thousand eight hundred and twenty-two dollars,ninety cents) only , in an account that belongs to one of our foreign customers who died along with his entire family in a plane crash that took place in Kenya, East Africa, the Late DR. GEORGE BRUMLEY, a citizen of Atlanta, United States of America but resident here in Nigeria, West Africa and a physician .

Since we got information about his death, we have been expecting his next of kin to come over and claim his money because it cannot be released unless somebody applies for it as next of kin or relation to the deceased as indicated in our banking guidelines but unfortunately, all his supposed next of kin or relation died alongside with him at the plane crash leaving nobody behind to claim the money. therefore upon this discovery that I now decided to make this business proposal to you and release the money to you via your foreign bank account as the next of kin or relation to the deceased for safety and subsequent disbursement since nobody is coming for it and this money Could go into the Bank treasury as unclaimed Bill.

The Banking law and guideline here stipulates that if such money remained unclaimed after four years, the money will be transferred into the Bank treasury as unclaimed fund. The request for your assistance and maximum co-operation as a foreign citizen to stand as the next of kin in this business is occasioned by the fact that the deceased customer was a foreigner. 40 % of this money will be for you as my foreign partner, in respect to the provision of a foreign ccount. and 60 % would be for me. There after I will come over to your country for disbursement ccording to the percentages indicated.

Therefore to enable the immediate transfer of this fund to you as arranged, you must apply first to the bank as the relation or next of kin to the deceased, indicating your claims and where the money will be remitted into. Upon receipt of your respose indicating your willingness to work with me, I will send to you by fax or email the contact information of my bank manager which you will use to submit the application and I will direct you on how to do that. I will not fail to bring to your notice that this transaction is strictly confidential and I will use my position in this Bank to effect a hitch free transfer of the fund and that is to say I guarantee that this transaction will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you and I from any breach of the law.

Please get in touch with me through my email: kennn12obi@yahoo.com and send to me your full name telephone and fax numbers to enable us discuss further about this transaction. You can visit the website below for more information about the Plane Crash and the tragic death of the deceased and his entire family, Late DR GEORGE BRUMLEY.
http://www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/africa/07/20/kenya.crash/index.html
Awaiting your urgent reply
Thanks and my regards.
Mr Kenneth Obi.
N/B. Please reply through my alternative email address kennn12obi@yahoo.com


I am interested in assisting you (and me) in this transaction. However, I will accept no less than 65% of the total for myself, leaving 35% for you.


Dear Lewis,
I am responding to your request and I shall be giving you the full detail of this transaction. I hope you have read my first letter to your understanding? It's my desire to go into business relationship with you.But this is based on your professional assistance,willingness, trust sincerity and give out your undivided effort.

Further to this, I wish to let you understand that I am a man of 45years, married, with four children. But there is one thing I want you to know. I don't want a situation whereby we have started this business you will one day change. Because some times humans change when it comes to dealings with money. I have contacted you because we two can always understand each other.

Moreso I want you to know that this transaction must be kept absolutely confidential. I am banking on you not to disclose this business to anybody this is for security reasons.As I have stated in my first letter to you, the bank (FIRST BANK PLC) gave me the power of mandamus to scout for my late client next of kin.

The bank on its own have done all they could but to no avail in locating any of my client relative. I applied to the appropriate unit of the bank with the knowledge of the board of directors, to give the authority that I can produce my late client next of kin so that thefunds will be transferred to him. Note that I was his Account officer when he was alive. I have decided to take this step because I wouldn't want the Nigeria Government to confiscate his account and use his funds for the African Countries at war. I saw this as a great opportunity for us to enrich ourselves and go into business relationship, this is why I contactedyou. If you are willing to work with me, you must always follow my instruction in order not to make mistake. Have it in mind that I have perfected all and there are no risk involved. Also you are not going to appear here in the bank. But you must adhere to my instruction.

Dear, there are three question I would like to ask.
1 Can I really trust you? By entrusting this funds into your account?
2 Is your account safe and capable of receiving this money?
3 Can you make me believe that you will not leave me in the cold when the money hits your account? (Trust.Sincerity, confidential, willingness,ability to assist)

sorry I have to ask this question because I have done a business like this in the past and my pertner ranaway with the funds so I would not want such thing to happen again and I have served this bank close to 10 years before such trust could be granted to me.

Now I have decided to continue this transaction with you and for us to proceed into this, you have to send to me your direct telephone number where I can always contact you, please try all you can and give me a call,as it is important we have an oral discussion to this matter. Your urgent reply will be highly appreciated Note that this transaction will last for only 10 working days if only you will follow my instruction and when I authorize the payment to you,and the money gets into your account, you will take 40% while I take 60%. if you agree with this I will immediately direct you on how you will apply to his bank for the release of the fund and we will have to familiarize ourselves, by providing a picture identity of ourselves, so that we can both know whom we are dealing with. Again I guarantee that this transaction will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you from any breach of the law.

Please call me as soon as you received this email so that we can discuss on how to take the next step and you should also send to me your direct telephone number where I can always contact you.
As soon as I hear from you I will direct you on how to apply to the bank for the release of the fund.

Waiting to hear from you.
I remain
Yours faithfully,
Mr.Kenneth obiDirect line: +234-8038 633 362


I feel that you are not listening to what I am saying. I stated clearly that I will accept no less than 65% of the total of funds, and yet your followup email states again that I will receive 40%.


Dear Brother,

Thanks for your email.

Brother honestly I am willing to proceed with you in this business because I am so sure that if we come together and do this with one mind just like brothers we must be grateful to God for bringing us together and that is to say I am willing to offer you what you requesting but we must have to discuss on phone first in order for me to be sure that your going to be totally honest to me.

I believed that for us to conclude this transaction successfully we really have to agree on how to take the next step so I will advise you to call me so that we can really discuss about it and you should also send to me your cell phone number where I can always reach you any time because I am not willing in any way ready to continue this transaction that involves over $20.M only on the internet.

Please indicate your willing to proceed with me by calling me on my direct number +234 8038 633 362 and also send to me your cell phone number where I can always reach you anytime.

As soon as I hear from you I will immediately direct you on how to apply to the bank for the release of the funds.

I await your urgent response.

Thanks,

Kenneth


I am glad you agree to my terms. Calling you long distance is going to cost me extra money, though. Because of this extra money, I am going to have to change the percentages I asked for. If I am going to have to call you, I must demand we split the money 70/30. I know that's only 30% for you, but it seems I need to incur up front costs, which mandates that I receive a larger cut.

Please let me know if this is acceptable to you.


Dear Matt,
Please I do not want you to toy with this business in any way so please indicate your willingness by given me your telephone number so that I can call you since you cannot call me.
Thanks,
Kenneth


I cannot believe that you are accusing me of toying with you! I am trying to negotiate with you a split of this money that is fair, given the amount of risk that is being taken. I am not the next of kin of Dr. Brumley, but I will be acting as if I am his next of kin. This involves a great deal of risk if I am caught.

I have many business deals going at any given time, and all are negotiated to my liking beforehand. I am extremely interested in this opportunity, as the portion I will receive (if you agree to my terms) is much, much greater than what I earn per year. Heck, it's five times my net worth!

I prefer to call you. I am afraid I cannot continue until I have your word that I will receive 70% of the total, and you 30%.


Brother,
Thanks for your email.
I want to assure you again that this transaction will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you and I from any breach of law so you have nothing to worry about and I will like you to handle this transaction with seriousness now that I am willing to give you 70% of the total funds
Brother, I will like us to continue the business because that is running out but I must discuss with you on phone before I direct you on how to apply for the release of the funds so please call me on my direct number 234 8038 633 362.
Please indicate your willingness to proceed with me by calling me and also given me your cell phone number where I can always reach you anytime because it is very important we be in close contact until this transaction is concluded as I will be directing you on what to do and how to do it in order for you not to make any mistake.
I will be expecting your call.
Thanks,
Kenneth


Okay. I am going to call you this weekend. One thing, though. I decided I want 80%. I don't have a precise reason for it, I just woke up today and 80 seemed like the number. I have some gambling debts to pay off, you know how it is. You have been most accomodating with my previous percentage changes, and I trust you will have no problem with this one as well. Brother, I do look forward to working with you.


I haven't heard from Kenneth after this last email.

I Don't Know Jack

I got an email today that I thought was a joke, asking if I knew about a new radio station in San Diego, 100.7 Jack FM. I figured a friend had sent it to me as a joke, knowing that I had just barely lost Supermouth. That assumption was thrown out when a quick visit to http://www.histar.com was redirected to the Jack web site. It looks like the only thing they kept was Jeff and Jer (Jack is not an idiot). Other than that, my best guess is everybody else got the can and they've switched to an all music format. I listened for a couple of songs, and the format is definitely different from Star...they're playing a lot more old stuff, with seemingly more variety. But the big change is no yap yap except for the morning show.

I must admit, I regard this as one more feather in my cap of "losing Supermouth was a blessing in disguise." In retrospect, one could view their most recent contests (a months-long competition where a listener becomes a DJ and a $20,000 hardly stealthy marketing campaign sending people out to search for and publicize the "Star 100.7 Fugitive") as desperate last attempts to gain ratings before throwing in the towel.

For Fun

Kelly and I went to Costco for next week's party purchases. I had decided ahead of time to get a small keg instead of bottled beer. While we were there, however, I spied the large cases of beer across the store, and wondered if perhaps it might make more sense to just get bottles. So I told Kelly my keg plan, and then added, "But let's go look at the beer just for fun." Overhearing this comment was a woman perhaps beyond middle age but not yet looking like a senior citizen, who retorted, "No, for fun you have to DRINK the beer." At first I chuckled, but as I walked further away my laughs got bigger and bigger, as I realized just how hilarious this off-the-cuff remark was. I think what made it so funny was that it came from a nearing sixty, sweet looking woman. Cheers to you, sweet looking late fifties alcoholic woman.

Good Will Hunting

Oh, just when I think I've got nothing to write about, the wonders of North Park appear yet again. It is harder than I would have thought to give stuff away to Amvets in this neighborhood. I scheduled a pickup for today, and naively left the boxes outside our front gate overnight, since they can pick up as early as 8am (and I'm unemployed...nuff said).

Anyhoo, when I got up this morning and took Dexter out for his morning potty, my first discovery was that one of the two boxes I had left outside was gone. Simply vanished. It was the box full of clothes. I was stunned at first, but then it made sense. And whatever, I mean I'm giving the stuff away anyway.

But Dexter noticed something from the front yard just now, and when I opened the gate to investigate, I found a woman rifling through the remaining box. Let me paint you a picture of this woman: 2/3 shirt which exposed most of her flabby belly, which effortlessly hung over her oversized jean shorts, but not enough to cover the pack of smokes poking out of her front pocket. Also, she smelled and acted somewhat drunk. She was pleasant enough (after getting caught) to apologize and admit that it would have been polite to ask first, then said she had some clothes to give away that she was going to bring over to add to the pile. Of course, I'll be shocked when those clothes never materialize.

The haves and the have nots live just a little too close in this neighborhood for my tastes. Time to use some of my available productivity cycles to take an inventory of the apartment and bump up the renter's insurance accordingly.

Fresh Bread

In honor of Martha Stewart getting out of prison, I am going to reveal a homemaking tip for the kitchen. For many moons I have struggled to keep bread fresh. I cherish that first sandwich when the bread is first opened. Just a day or two after that, the bread begins to either harden or do that crumbly thing. Putting it in the fridge delays it a bit, but not much. And the freezer prevents premature aging, but also hurts the flavor and mandates defrosting.

My solution? A ziploc bag. Now this sounds so obvious as to be stupid, but I'm willing to bet a majority of readers do not use this method. I bought some gallon size ziploc bags (the kind with the easy to lock/unlock pink zippers on top). After I use the bread, it goes back in the bag. Then I zip it all but an inch closed, squeeze all the air out of the bag, then zip it fully closed. When done properly, the bag looks pretty much vaccuum sealed.

I am currently enjoying my fourth sandwich from the current loaf, and with no refrigeration, the bread is still wonderfully soft and fresh.

24-Hour Financial Fitness

So far so good with the cat allergies. It’s been a week, and I haven’t had any symptoms. Hopefully this will continue. Incidentally, Lucy is less of a jerk than I remember. I think she’s happy in our new house, what with the front patio and highly perched window views throughout the house.

I’ve been spending some time at 24 Hour Fitness in Hillcrest. I like the yoga classes there. They are sardine packed with Hillcrest’s flexible elite, but the good instructors and rather fast paced (for yoga) classes keep me coming back. That being said, I despise 24 Hour Fitness due to their business model, which squeezes out as much profit as possible with the following cost-saving tactics:

- Sell as many subscriptions as possible, do not consider gym overcrowding
- Hire flabby, out-of-shape fitness instructors who charge patrons by the hour to walk around the gym with them
- Hire muscular “instructors” whose job is really hard-selling new memberships
- Intersperse the music pumping throughout the gym with advertisements for costly 24 hour fitness extras or friend signup programs.

Basically, it is painfully obvious that the gym’s focus is on making money, not getting people in shape. A gym should make money, but should do a better job hiding its desire to make money. For such a well oiled machine, I’m surprised by the inefficiency of their intercom paging. They have a company-mandated way of paging their instructors, which is the same every time (I wish I could ignore it): “Attention all 24 Hour Fitness Staff, Mike please come to the front desk.” Why alert all the staff when you only want Mike’s attention? How about: “Attention instructor Mike.” You never hear a hospital intercom say: “Attention all Cedar Sinai medical doctors, will Doctor Jones please come to the ER.” I figure tidying up the company policy on paging could save the company $200 a year, which would be enough to repair the stair steppers that keep missing their chains and plummeting me and other riders to the floor.

Space Exploration Exploration

It's official, I got scammed. I talked to the neighbors today - the neighbors that actually live where Mr. "work for it" claimed he did. In an ironic twist, those very neighbors had been scammed by the same guy some 8 years ago. The story they were told was identical. My hat is off to this guy...eight years successfully using the same lousy "I need money for a tire" line.

I found an interesting article the other day about Bush's spending cuts (cuts, by the way, which are essentially noise when compared with our defense and Medicare spending). The white house put out a report outlining the rationale for the spending cuts. One portion of the report states: "When the federal government focuses on its priorities and limits its claims on resources taken from the private sector, that helps sustain a stronger, more productive economy." This quote essentially admits that the private sector is more efficient than the public sector, a fact that has been proven again and again through different countries' trial and error. To me, the funny part of the quote (surely not intended by the author) is that if this sentiment is truly to be internalized, the government should be cutting not a small pittance, but ALL non-essential programs. We need an armed forces. We need law enforcement. These are things it makes sense the government collect money and pay for. But NASA? Don't get me wrong, NASA is very cool. But it's hard for me to regard getting the latest pictures of Saturn as a "priority". If the people themselves felt NASA was a priority, they could voluntarily contribute their money, instead of being forced to by the government. If we currently had a society where government paid only for national defense and law enforcement, I wonder what white house quote would justify paying for NASA, and all similar non-essential programs. Perhaps something like, "Space exploration embodies the very spirit of American inventiveness and exploration. You're not un-American, are you?"

Living in Sin

I have decided to continue posting to my blog. In the past, I have only blogged while traveling. Traveling provides a constant barrage of new experiences for me to comment on, as well as plenty of time to compose my thoughts. Less changing, run-of-the-mill daily life, however, deserves commenting on a lot of the time as well. Speaking of comments, I have turned them on for this blog, which I think means readers can add pithy remarks. We'll see how that goes. Will I still write ridiculously lengthy entries? Well, that depends. See, on the one hand...um…I guess that’s a yes.

Kelly and I moved in together. This is no shock to most of you. We’re renting a two bedroom house (officially, it’s a duplex, but it feels like a house). It’s really nice, with plenty of comfortable room for Kelly, me, Dexter, and (uggh) Lucy the cat. Lucy doesn’t move in until tomorrow, and I dread her arrival. I’m allergic, plus she is a cat and therefore standoffish. I don’t understand the appeal of owning an animal that runs away from you when you want to pet it and rubs itself on you and your computer equipment when you want it to go away.

It seems to me that on a daily basis, moving in together represents a much more significant change than getting married. Largely in the past, those two things always happened together. But then Bon Jovi’s “Living in Sin” came out, and it really resonated with people. Kelly and I successfully traveled together internationally, where we spent 24/7 together for 180 days straight. Sharing a place should therefore be a cakewalk. I have discovered the first counterexample to this assumption. Now that I am not living out of a backpack, I am surrounded with all my very nice things, which each have a place and a proper use (by me whenever I want). And now I’m being made to share, compromise, and try my hardest not to flinch when Kelly mis-throws Dexter’s toys into my speakers. This is what happens when a hyper-organizer is allowed to mono-habitate for ten years before co-habitating. Ah, well, I’ll adjust I guess. Either that or blanket the place with post-it instructions.

A very odd thing happened a few days after we got back from Florida. Late morning, a guy appeared in the front courtyard (I think the fence was already open). I was home alone, and saw him through the window as he waved me outside. He commented casually, “So, still unpacking I see. Howdy, I’m Martin, your neighbor.” He pointed to where he lived, across the street and about three houses down. Then it got weird. He asked if there were any jobs I needed doing that he could help out with to earn $14.50, and barring that, could he just borrow $14.50. My deer-in-the-headlights response caused him to further explain that it was for a tire. My brain was gridlocked. On one side, I had the “good neighbor” conversation going on; on the other side was the “deny all (non-third-world-country) panhandlers” conversation. This guy refused to fit squarely into either category. I told him straight out I thought it was a really strange request, but eventually I went back in and fetched him a $20. He walked toward “his house”, promising to return the next morning to pay me back. Two mornings have now gone by, and I’m officially considering this a $20 enrollment fee for an involuntary class I just took called “Remembering How Not to Get Screwed.” I’m still hopeful he’ll show up one day with my $20, but until then I will lessen my upset by giving him props for inventing what seems to be a clever scam. For those wanting to get in on the action, I have composed instructions:

1. Pretend to be a neighbor.
2. Ask for a specific, odd amount of money that is extremely hard to make change for, and will probably get rounded up by 25% for convenience.
3. Insist the money is for something that sounds very plausible, such as a new tire during the heaviest rain the city has ever seen.
4. Offer to walk over with the person to verify you live where you say you do (knowing full well the bias from number 1 prevents someone from taking you up on it).

Do not, however, offer to work for the money. In retrospect, this is the smoking gun I should have picked up on. No legitimate neighbor wanting to borrow $14.50 offers to work for it. Not unless Kelly and I crossed the border while house hunting and didn’t notice. No, offering to “work for it” is one of the most transparent guilt ploys currently being used to sucker people out of their money. Many years ago, my dad actually stopped and offered a guy with a “work for food” sign a (simple) gardening job, and he declined. And I’m here to announce this no longer upsets me. For many years it did. But then I realized were I in his shoes, and people were willing to pull up to a stoplight in La Jolla and hand me dollars for making a sign ($80 a day by some accounts), I wouldn’t bother raking leaves either. The greatest irony is that the guy holding the “will work” sign is at that moment actually working as a clever entrepreneur. He’s in the yuppie guilt alleviation business. Judging by sheer numbers at most stoplights and freeway exits, business is booming.

We're Back

We're back, and dry. Some non-San Diegans who have been following the blog have written to ask if Kelly and I made it home safely before the Tsunamis hit. We've been back about three weeks. The tidal waves caused by the world's largest ever earthquake off the coast of Indonesia have swept across some of the places we just visited. I'm glad we made it back before the earthquake, and I'm sad and awestruck by what a powerful blow mother nature has dealt. After only 2 days of counting, there are already more than 7 times the number of people declared dead than from the 9/11 attacks. It's just staggering.

Bangkok, Thailand

Bangkok, Thailand

Our last city. Bangkok was different from the last time I was here, entirely because we stayed at Khao San Road (versus the business district last time I was here). Khao San is a hippie traveler mecca; everyone with a backpack stays here. Officially, we are no longer backpackers, as we are now transporting an additional two large duffel bags full of crap we have bought in India and Thailand.

Much of our stay here was typical Thailand, focused around good food and massage. Bangkok has a few extras, however. We saw the Golden Palace, which houses the emerald Buddha, currently donning his wintertime full golden shawl (his clothes are changed three times a year). We also saw Wat Pho, which I had never seen before. This is the home of the reclining Buddha, which is enormous. It’s 46 meters long, and nearly reaches the lofty ceiling. Wat Pho also had the best massage place, a school at the back of the complex. The deftness with which my masseuse got under my skin and powerfully into my muscles brought shame to every massage provider I’ve ever visited in America.

Of course, Muay Thai (Thai kickboxing) was a must. It dwarfs regular boxing in excitement, as every so often one fighter lands a high kick to the head. The best move is the foot grab. Some of these guys are so quick that when their opponent kicks them in the side, they are able to catch and hold their foot. Then, with foot in hand, they attempt to sweep their opponent’s remaining single leg. When successful, this (obviously) brings their opponent tumbling to the mat. Another edge it enjoys over American boxing is that toward the end of the fight, every blow (and there are many, often in succession) elicits a huge, fast roar from the audience. It’s good fun.

I would like to take this opportunity to express my contempt for Jack Johnson. For some reason, he is the musician du jour in Bangkok. We just now walked back from having coffee, and his music was blaring out of exactly three music stores between Starbucks and our hotel (and you know how far you have to walk to get to a Starbucks). Each time we realized it was Jack Johnson, an annoyed grimace appeared on both our faces. Tragically, I own Jack Johnson’s CD “On and On” (I got it for free from Star when I was competing for Supermouth). It turns out this CD is perfectly titled, because his music just goes on and on. His singing style makes it impossible to distinguish one song from another. After a few listens, his intimate croning starts to sound like an annoying friend constantly whispering in your ear during the movie of life. I will be ditching “On and On” when I get home, along with a bunch of other CD’s I own that, after having sifted through my entire music collection, I now realize suck.

Kelly and I decided to take a dinner cruise on the Chao Phraya River. It was a fitting way to end our 5 month journey. We were served dinner, and watched Thai women play the harp and perform traditional Thai dances. They even brought to life a scene from a Kabuki-like play. I got up and did the traditional dance with them (they didn’t exactly have to drag me up there either). During the cruise, Kelly and I reflected on all the places we’ve been. It was very much like the first hour of the final episode of Survivor, where the remaining castaways are mandated to take a walk and reflect on their time on the island, while a montage of past clips are shown to the audience. For us, however, the clips were playing in our head. There are a lot of happy memories.

During past trips and vacations, usually I have been too preoccupied to have any sense that I am enjoying myself. The experience usually seems blissful only after time sweeps over it like an airbrush, blurring out the pimples to create a memory better than the reality. During this trip, however, I have had many realizations in the moment of how incredible and enjoyable this trip has been. The dinner cruise was one of those times. After some time passes, this trip is likely to achieve legendary status, especially if life finds me in more stressful conditions (but come on, I’m sure that won’t happen).

For those who may not have read my blogs in their entirety, I will summarize our trip for you here by encapsulating each country we have visited with a single word. Reading this list is like traveling to a dozen countries in 30 seconds – all you miss out on is the jet lag and traveler’s diarrhea.

Greece - beautiful
Italy - tan
Croatia - hospitable
Hungary - skippable
Austria - organized
Czech Republic - hip
Germany - friendly
Sweden - expensive
Denmark - blustery
India - overwhelming
Thailand – relaxing
America - home

Chiang Mai, Thailand

Chiang Mai, Thailand

“Afternoon haaaa” from Chiang Mai. This is how Thai women speak. When talking to foreigners, they’ll use just about any English word, followed by “haaaa”. Thai words get the haaaa appended to them as well. This is my second time to Chiang Mai, and much is the same as before. Same great medium-sized city feel, lots of shops at the night market, and many possible excursions to the hills surrounding it.

We arrived in Chiang Mai on the last day of a big Thai holiday (you know, that one). Like the Indians, they celebrate by lighting off fireworks, some of them producing wartime blasts (and the next day’s paper had a story about a kid who blew off his hand and killed his friend standing next to him). Unlike the Indians, they light mini hot air balloons into the sky. A huge cylindrical wick is soaked in something flammable, which is attached by string to a large closed paper tube. The contraption is held steady until enough hot air fills the tube that it begins to float; then it is set free. The sky was covered in distant floating lights, many of which reach heights you’d expect of air balloons. Some of the wicks are wired through time delay to fireworks, which drop out of the sky and explode once the contraption is treetop-high. I have some great pictures of all this, and will post them when I get home (had to archive them in a pinch to free up memory).

We saw a wat. They are called “wats” because that’s what you say when you leave them: “what?” Not that impressive (both the wat and my pun-based joke). It looked like our gompa from Tushita, only the Buddha inside was as high as the ceiling. I mean it would be a great place to meditate, but I’m not sure it deserved a dedicated sightseeing visit. There’s one wat complex in Bangkok we’ll see that I remember being much larger and more impressive.

Today, Kelly and I went to the Maesa Elephant Camp. I’ve never before seen so many elephants in one place. The visit centered around an hour-long elephant show, which was amazing. The elephants paraded around, with mahouts (trainers) on their backs, doing all sorts of tricks and performing many human-esque gestures. They kicked soccer balls (while another elephant tended goal), stacked logs, and flung their trunks around in a huge circle. After this, each was presented an easel and paint brushes, which they used to paint pictures. I wouldn’t have believed it without seeing it; I would have thought the mahouts guide their trunks or something. But sure enough, all by himself, the elephant closest to us drew a picture of a tree with flowers on it. His trunk was as precise as an artist’s hand (though he painted in broad strokes). While the painting was indeed impressive, the most impressive thing I witnessed all day was an excited elephant showing off what in this case can be referred to without hyperbole as his “third leg”.

The elephants we saw today were treated very well, a marked contrast from my previous Chiang Mai elephant visit. At Maesa, the elephants are trained from age 5, and throughout the compound are elephants being fed, bathed, and led around different parts of the camp. Due to the good training, the commands used to control the elephants are spoken or tapped out gently with baton thingees. Of course, there’s still a faint smell of exploitation, but no more than you’d find at any zoo or ranch. We enjoyed the elephants guilt free.

We return home in four days. It feels like so long ago that we were in Greece, or anywhere else we’ve been for that matter. Seemingly odd is that while these early destinations feel like forever ago, home still seems close. Unless my expectations are incorrect (never happens), I’ll snap right back into home life like I was never gone. But put me back in Greece, and I would…okay, well, it would be the same there too…HAPPY?

Back when it was 11 days to go, I reminisced a lot. Now that we have four days left, reminiscing has slowed, and I feel I am hurtling at light speed toward our flight home, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. The days remaining are impossibly miniscule compared to the time we’ve been gone. I am experiencing a slightly surreal feeling at how fast the end has snuck up. When you’ve been gone for as long as we have, it’s hard to fathom that it will just end all of a sudden at a single moment.

That being said, I am really looking forward to home. In that sense, I haven’t changed all that much – I’m still looking forward to the next place, and this time that place is home. But enticing me further are friends, family, and all the comforts and extravagances of home. Without a doubt, the cherry on top of the icing on the cake (which is in a completely separate hemisphere from the straw that broke the camel’s back) is that I need not rush back to work, but can continue to be a total slacker, just domestically. It makes coming home just as fun as leaving. See most of you real soon!