Ichigo Ichie

I like Japan. The cab drivers wear white gloves and they have beer in vending machines. The only people who jaywalk are tourists. They have toilets that automatically spray water up your butt and play music so people don't hear you blowing ass. Awesome.

I flew in to Tokyo but went straight to Kyoto on the bullet train to meet up with Lee. He was there for the Aikido world championships in which he was supposed to compete but ended up tearing a ligament in his thumb during practice. Important note: Aikido is the martial art practiced by ass-kicking renaissance man Steven Seagal.

"People constantly mistake me for George Yoshinaga."

Unfortunately, during the tournament I never saw anybody's arm broken backward or their trachea torn out of their neck. For those of you that have never watched competitive Aikido, I'll summarize it for you. Basically, one guy goes after another guy with a dildo and tries to hit him with it, and the other guy tries to disarm said dildo, and both guys try to throw each other to the ground. Strange sport. I was lucky enough to watch a couple of days of this homo-erotic dance courtesy of Lee and his teammates. If they could only incorporate the teabagging that's invoved in Jiujitsu, then you'd really have something. We also were able to see demonstrations of Kendo (sword fighting) and Naginata (polearm fighting) at the Budo Center.

On our first night in town, Lee and I met a Japanese guy named Masa at the bar in my hostel and invited him out with us for the night. Well, it's more like we decided we needed an interpreter so we forced him to come out and booze it up with us, the poor bastard. Lee had never had sushi in his life. He was actually thinking about giving up on eating fish until we went to a sushi conveyor-belt joint and took down 24 plates. Lee made us go back to the same place every night we were in Kyoto. We then hit the bars and ended up in this small sake bar run by a cackling fiend named Mr. Ichi. Somehow we ended up being joined by a couple of hipster types from Osaka, and every time Masa would say he didn't want any more beers we'd say ok and buy another round. Like I said... poor bastard. He seemed to end up liking us anyway and taught us the saying "Ichigo Ichie" which has something to do with an auspicious meeting or making new friends. Here's how Masa later explained it via e-mail: "One of terms that explain spirit of tea ceremony. The one that knowledge with important desire that it is meeting that is never, possession of host and guest of both kind faithfulness, and intersection of today's one meeting through life was taught." So I'm glad we got that straightened out.

It seemed as though most of Japan decided to vacation in Kyoto while I was there because 95% of the tourists were Japanese. And if you like shrines and temples, this is the place for you! Luckily as a city it's not too big so it's easily walkable. I really liked it from the get-go... once you get out of downtown there are height limits on the buildings and you can still stumble upon some traditional houses here and there. There were quite a few women walking around in traditional meiko outfits. The people were friendly, the vibe was mellow, the surroundings were beautiful... I could've easily spent a few more days there. I think you'll see what I mean from the pictures. Lee's team ended up with a good showing in the tournament and we had another big night out with his teammate Richard before leaving for Tokyo. Which is like going to another planet.

If you like amber hair, cartoon porn, girls with lots of makeup wearing mini-skirts and boots, and neon lights, you will love Tokyo. Lee was on a mission to pick up some manga (Japanese comic books) for his niece with the only requirement being that she likes dogs so it has to have dogs. Sounded easy enough, so we went to Akihabara (electric town, with all the crazy neon billboards) that is home to one of the biggest manga shops in Tokyo. It was indeed impressive... there were seven floors of manga: two for regular comics and the rest for manga porn. And let me tell you that is some sick shit! Just think of the sickest, weird, fetish stuff you can come up. Now double it. If you still can't picture it, don't worry... I can help. There's girl-on-boy, girl-on-girl, boy-on-boy, guns, plants, animals, chicks with dicks, aliens... and that was just the third floor. They even have anime porn videos playing throughout the store on big screens. Lee didn't even want to ask about dog comics because he thought they'd give him something involving bestiality.

And all around Akihabara we had these girls coming up to us dressed like french maids or schoolgirls handing us flyers to go to their cafes where girls dressed like french maids or schoolgirls wait on you. And close to our hostel in Asakusa they had stills from the porno movies they were showing at the theater posted right in front of it! Porno still shots in public! Did I also mention the cuddle pet stores, where you can rent a puppy or a kitten for an hour so you can cuddle with it? And the love hotels in Shibuya? This town is f'ing crazy!

The manga search didn't go too well as you can imagine. We went through a few other neighborhoods, had some beers here and there, ended up as the only foreigners in a tiny, super-smoky yakitori joint where they stuck us in a back corner with a plywood table, then had an unsuccessful attempt to sing karaoke at 3 am with a couple from Barcelona.

Lee went home the next day, which unfortunately for him meant he missed one of the six annual Sumo tournaments they have in Japan. If you think sumo is just a bunch of fat guys stomping around and running into each other... you're wrong. The sound of man boobs slapping together as two titans collide in the middle of the ring is something I won't soon forget. And the Japanese go absolutely apeshit during these matches. Well, at least for the 10 seconds that they're actually fighting.

On my last day in Tokyo I woke up early to hit the Tsukiji market which is the largest fish market in all of Japan. It's a full-on experience when you're half asleep... it's the size of four or five football fields with carts zooming all over the place, a slick film of fish juice all over the ground and a bunch of Japanese people yelling at each other trying to buy wholesale tuna. Oh... the tuna. Walking around that place was tuna porn. I wanted to smother myself with it. There are sushi restaurants outside the market where you can get the fresh stuff. Nothing like $70 worth of sushi at 7:30 in the morning. I'll probably end up with mercury poisoning after this trip. I guess that ruins my chances of being cast in a David Mamet play.

So I'm back home now which means you won't have to worry about me hassling you with posts for a while. Here's a video of some of the random stuff I saw in Japan...


Randomness in Japan from DB13 on Vimeo.


Lucky for me, I managed to get back in time for the Folsom Street fair. Where else can you feel out of place because you're not wearing assless chaps? We were walking by some weird kinky bondage thing featuring a dominatrix whipping a tied-up naked guy with an enormous shlong when this guy in front of us who is trying to take a picture with his iPhone turns to his buddy and asks "How do you zoom in with this thing?" You gotta love San Francisco.

Anyhow, in case you're interested, here are the pictures. Don't worry, they're only from Japan... I didn't have my camera at the fair.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/Fpo4d3ihFWUtzsZk6

Take 'er easy,
Dave

P.S. If you want to see more of the Aikido/Kendo/Naginata video or more of the Sumo Tournament, here are the links.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t1FwQ2ERAdI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pZQqeSSYeuE

The Marriage of Vincenzo

First thing's first... apparently Roger Moore is not dead. Although judging by this picture they simply figured out a way to animate his skeletal remains (thanks to Kendall for the image).















On the way to Koh Samui for my buddy Vince's wedding I decided to stop for a couple of days in Phuket to visit my friend Mui and to take a side trip to Khao Lak and Koh Kho Khao. I'm not going to go into detail about that part of my trip other than to say it was immensely gratifying to see people living in the houses we worked on.

I will, however, go into detail about what Mui is doing on Phuket and why you should care. A few years ago Mui bought some land on Phuket in an out of the way area in the center of the island. Ever since, he's been working on a project to develop the land on his own using his own funds. The plan is to use the land for two reasons: a small school for poor children to learn English and computer skills, and a dormitory for terminally ill children from the Thai countryside that would like to see the ocean before they die. He has already begun construction and has architect's drawings for the buildings. Mui's hoping to have this thing finished up by next summer, at which time you can expect to be blasted by me with a bunch of emails. Mui is not looking for money or donations (he may have a sponsorship lined up though he wants to finance this on his own) but what he's going to need are volunteers. It shouldn't be a tough sell, trying to help poor and sick kids on a tropical island, but you never know with people. Anyhow, you've been warned.

From Phuket it was on to Koh Samui for Vince's wedding. What more can I say about Thailand, especially the islands? I consider this country my third home after Italy and the U.S. I love the street Som Tam (and Larb Moo for you JW), the fresh fish, the gorgeous beaches, and even the general chaos and randomness. Most of all I love the smiling, friendly Thai people who laugh at you when you're mangling their language. Well, except in places like Samui where they're so beaten down by asshole tourists that they stop trying. But even there all it takes is trying to order something that's not on the menu (or maybe doesn't exist) and the smiles break out again.

Of course, there are plenty of things to hate in Thailand, mostly tourist-related. There are the douchy backpackers who come to the islands, buy some fisherman pants and linen shirts, then blast Bob Marley to show you how alternative and counter-cultural they are... just like all the other backpackers. There's the people riding around on motorbikes with no helmets, or shirts, or shoes, like there's some kind of Thai forcefield around them that magically protects against cranial injury. And there's the constant parade of fat old (and young) white guys with young Thai chicks.

Sometimes I can't figure this place out. There is no porn, and even the Thai Maxim magazine is kid stuff compared to the U.S. version, but you walk down the street for five minutes and are propositioned 12 times for a massage with a happy ending. The day of the bachelor party we chartered a speedboat to Koh Tao for some snorkeling and diving and the dive instructor was telling us about how they organize a yearly "shagaboard" where they charter a yacht for a week for some exclusive clients, load it up with 10 Thai girls, and then proceed to take the clients out diving and shagging. He even let us know which massage parlor on Samui gives free hand jobs, all with an amusement that I found kind of sad. And Samui is tame compared to other parts of Thailand like Bangkok and Patong in Phuket (no ping pong shows allowed on Samui).

I can't say we didn't take advantage of some of what the island had to offer the night of the bachelor party. I know that may seem somewhat hypocritical after the previous paragraph, but I can assure you that we didn't partake in anything that wouldn't be kosher in any western city. I will let you select the events of the evening from following choices:
a) Attended a ladyboy cabaret
b) Frequented a girly bar
c) I was challenged to a dance battle at a nightclub at 3 AM by a crazy, angry Thai girl
d) We lit an auspicious lantern on the beach for Vince
e) A quiet evening discussing the book "The Secret" by Rhonda Byrne
Which one doesn't belong?
Luckily, I didn't have my camera with me. Actually, that's more lucky for Vince, even though they didn't allow pictures anyway in the girly bar. Would've been embarrassing for Vince to be photographed when those girls were diving in after the ping pong balls in his pants. Good thing no one recorded this on any sort of mass medium that is publicly available.

I also got a chance to train at WMC muay thai on Lamai Beach, which was great except for the part where they paired me up with a 6'6" guy from New Zealand who repeatedly punched me in the face. Although the puffiness in the pictures is probably due more to the bachelor party. I've found that drinking several M150s counters the effects of the Changover... no swollen hands and feet the next day! But I digress. A couple of the Contender tv show guys train at that gym so it must be decent... Dzhabar from season one and Eli from season two whom I saw fight when we went to the stadium on Saturday night. He absolutely kicked the shit out of some poor Thai guy that he outweighed by at least 20 pounds. Here's some video:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=InDqZcQy6eM

Anyhow, the whole reason we all came to Samui was for Vince's wedding, which was fantastic. They kept it small, maybe about 20 people or so, and they had it on the beach right in front of the resort where most of the wedding party was staying. I felt a bit sorry for Vince since he made the stylistic decision to sport a tux for his wedding on a tropical island. When I patted him on the back his jacket felt completely soaked through. He did make quite an entrance, however:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8yC3yLFQb1U

The two highlights of the evening for me were a) Michaela's dad dressing exactly like Jackie Treehorn... I wanted to ask him if he had a personalized notepad, and b) the introduction to palinka, which is apparently a Romanian grappa made from plums. Brutal stuff. Good times were had by all.

Without further ado, here are the pictures:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/2RmqWUigXMrPjEyz9

Take 'er easy,
Dave

My 200 dollar cup of coffee

I was in Hoi An sitting at a streetside vendor having a cup of coffee and minding my own business. These two women are gabbing away in Vietnamese when one of them turns to me and starts speaking in English (kind of) asking me where I'm from and what-have-you. We're chatting away for a few minutes, and just when I let my guard down she says "Come to see my shop!" Aw, shit. For those of you that don't know, Hoi An is the tailoring capital of Vietnam. There are probably over a hundred shops that will make you just about anything you want to wear... all you have to do is point to something in a magazine and you can have it the next day. Suits, jackets, shoes, shirts... The D.A. would go crazy here.

Anyway, next thing you know I'm with Emma at her shop across the street getting the business end of a measuring tape. I didn't even want a freakin' suit, I just wanted some linen pants for Vince's wedding. She's yapping away, talking some crazy shit in English then Vietnamese to her minions, pinching my cheeks, hugging me, and I think I just bought a suit, two shirts, two ties and a pair of pants for 200 bucks. Of course they take credit cards! "I make you look like James Bond!" Which is good, unless it's Roger Moore, seeing as how he's dead and all.

Hoi An is a riverside colonial town that is composed mainly of tailors, souvenir shops, restaurants, and hotels. It rained pretty much nonstop for 4 days while I was there, so I got to watch a lot of cable TV. I enjoyed watching Black Hawk Down in the original English version with an overdubbed Vietnamese woman doing all the voices. There was one three hour break in the rain that I used to visit the 8th century Champa ruins at My Son, but to be honest the motorbike ride there and back was the most exciting part of the trip. I came to Hoi An via Da Nang, and I think my Vietnam vet friends will be happy to hear that there's a Hyatt regency resort going up on China Beach across the way from the old U.S. air force base.

I did take in another excellent cooking class where I learned how to make Cha Ca and Pho from scratch. We got to visit a farm where they grow herbs and vegetables, and where this insane old Vietnamese woman served us tea. She was talking to herself for a while, then yelling at us, then staring off into space. Then she started yelling at her dog because it was climbing on the furniture, so I said something like "I think that dog has no idea of the consequences if he misbehaves." So a couple of people laughed and the woman thought we were laughing at her and started going nuts and our guide had to scramble to get us back to the van.

I also managed to memorize the script that all the street kid vendors use to sell you stuff... "You buy bracelet? Tiger Balm? Where you from? Do you have any coins for my collection?" They all come up and cycle through that same routine. I can't figure out what the angle is on the coins.

So the night before I'm set to fly back to Hanoi I go to pick up my clothes from Emma. Everything fits great... except the jacket. It looks like the sleeves were stitched to the shoulders by someone with Parkinson's. When I point this out to Emma, she just looks at me and gestures like I need to iron it out. Iron out my ass! I start pointing out the other jackets around the store and how they don't have this sort of poofy shape to the shoulders and she continues insisting it just needs ironing and then yelling at me in Vietnamese. I know I'm not going to win this argument because a) I'm a giant wuss, b) I already paid so I have no leverage, and, most importantly, c) she has scary foot claws. I'm not joking... her toenails extend to about half an inch beyond the end of her toes and they look sharp, like raptor talons with nail polish on them, or maybe it's dried blood. Whatever they are, it's freaking me out. So fuck it, maybe I can get Ang's tailor to fix the sleeves for me when I get back home. All I know is I got completely railroaded by a tiny Vietnamese woman into buying a mangled suit that I don't even need. I am such a jackass.

My next destination was Sa Pa, a mountain town known for its hikes in the northwest of Vietnam. To my eyes, it looks like the French got a hold of this place because it reminds me of an alpine village. I was on a two-day trip with four girls and a Vietnamese guide named Hung which took us through mostly minority hill towns belonging to the black H'Mong and the Dzay people. You might recognize the H'Mong from the pictures, the women wear all black and are constantly harrassing tourists trying to get them to buy trinkets, blankets and whatnot. They are freakin' persistent... one of them followed me around for about 15 minutes as I was walking around the town at a distance of five feet, our conversation consisting of her saying "You buy?" every few seconds and me saying "no." She even waited outside one of the shopts for me to come out so she could start in on me. They should have these people working on cold calls, not selling blankets. It was like the hill tribe version of Glengarry Glen Ross.... some village elder yelling at them to put that tea down, because tea is for closers.

We were told by our guide not to buy anything from the H'Mong, especially from the kids, because the Vietnamese feel like it perpetuates their cycle of poverty. Instead of sending the kids to schools, which are funded by the government, the families will send them out to sell trinkets repeating the same thing over and over again (it's kind of faint, you may have to turn up the volume)....


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jXpBPlySOE

The government also wants them to stop having 10 or 12 kids per family and limit it to two. Well, good luck with that, because I dont' think they have cable up in the H'Mong villages. Although the Dzay seemed to have quite a few satellite dishes, but that's because they're really dialled into the homestay business.

Ethnic minority fun facts: 20% of the population of Vietnam is non-Vietnamese. There are 53 ethnic minorities spread throughout Vietnam. We spent the night in a Dzay village in a homestay hosted by Mr. Chin and his wife Doan. I don't remember a lot about the evening, except I learned "Moot, Hai, Ba, Zho!" which I think means "One, two, three, Go!" and "Chum pan chum" (I think) which means "100 percent". Yes, I am your international cultural envoy, ladies and gentlemen!


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H7H3wWbyuTQ

Sorry about the crappy quality of the video, I was in no condition to screw around with the settings. Mr. Chin doesn't speak any English but he does speak the international language of booze. Hung told me that they host travelers every day, sometimes as many as 20 at a time. If that's true, his liver should be on display somewhere.

The hike through the area around Sa Pa was outstanding. I've not been gifted with particularly flowery language, so I'll let the pictures do the talking. The trek was relatively easy... the upshot of having trekked in Nepal I guess. Wait... there is no upshot. Screw you Mark.

I had one last day in Hanoi and all I wanted was Bun Cha. I found a stand in an alley a few blocks from my hostel where the old lady serves up unlimited amounts of food for 15000 dong, which is about 80 cents. The only drawback is that whenever I sit down I feel like the oldest one at the kids' table. I barrel into everything like Will Ferrell when he has the dart in his neck in Old School... the Vietnamese people around me shaking their heads as they give me about a three-foot radius of eating space. Between that and the Banh My Pate, I was a happy boy.

Anyhow, I never thought I'd be looking forward to going to Thailand to get away from noise.

Here are the pics:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/dSxrN5KNtPs6BPQCA

Take 'er easy,
Dave

Hijacked in Hanoi

It was my first day in Vietnam and I had no idea why I was there. I was sitting alone in Hanoi on the south side of Hoa Kiem Lake minding my own business, in a sort of bored and anxious malaise. I must be getting old because leading up to this trip I'd felt more anxious than excited. The last few years I've rarely traveled alone... I'd almost always been meeting up with one of those jackasses I met in Khao Lak, usually Mark and Rich. Not this time, though, as Rich is still waiting for that plate to be put in his head and Mark is doing something either illegal or immoral or both with his soon-to-be Asian bride.

I'm contemplating all this and whether or not it'd be interesting to see the embalmed body of Ho Chih Minh when I look up and am suddenly surrounded by four giggly girls looking at me and gabbing away in what I presume to be Vietnamese.

"What's your name?"

Ok, here it comes. What am I gonna get sold today? They decide to sit down, two on either side of me, and begin the barrage...

"Where are you from?" "Are you by yourself?" "Where do you live?" "Do you like Vietnam?" "What is your job?" "Do you know Liverpool football?" "How old are you?" "Are you married?" When I answer no it gets all quiet, like I told them I have aerially communicable herpes or something. Then they start barraging me with questions about why I'm not married when I'm so old, and one of them says she's 21 and she's engaged, and then they ask me if I like girls, then one of them suggests I should go to the tribal "Love Market" in Sapa to find a bride, which they all think is the funniest thing ever. And on and on for half an hour. They explain to me that they are local university students and their teacher instructed them go for walks around the lake on Sunday mornings to practice their English with foreigners. Then one of them says "We want to take you out for ice cream."

Yeah right. I'll be walking along the street with these four evil elves and a van will pull up and someone will clobber me over the head and dump me in the lake. But I do like ice cream, so I say ok. We walk a couple of blocks away from the lake and away from the street, into this courtyard packed with people where I am the only non-Vietnamese person. I know this because I'm a head taller than everybody else. I'm like a human lighthouse. The girls insist on buying me ice cream, then drag me across the street for a free Fanta for "Teens only."

It's been about an hour so the girls have to leave but first they want their picture taken with me by the lake. We walk back over there and happen to see a photo shoot going on with three tall Vietnamese models sporting some sort of traditional dresses and walking along the side of the lake. The girls get all excited at this and run over to talk to the photographer. Then one of the girls comes over to me, grabs my arm, and says "Stand over there" meaning where the three models are standing. So the next thing I know I'm getting my picture taken with these three models... people are stopping and staring at us, taking pictures on their phones, the girls are going mental, and I have no idea what the hell is going on. So make sure you look out for me in the next issue of Vogue Vietnam. I'd been in Hanoi for three hours.

What else can I say about Hanoi? I've never seen this many scooters in my life. Crossing the street is like playing human Frogger. Everybody's honking their horn all the time. I've been told that's because people don't use their mirrors and they honk to let everyone know they're coming. Apparently it's illegal to drive in Vietnam if your horn is not working. The street food is outstanding... you can sit down on tiny plastic stools on just about any street corner and find something good to eat. Mostly I've just been pointing at stuff which I hope is chicken, and usually ends up containing a high amount of gristle and/or cartilage. I'm enjoying the Bia Hoi which is fresh beer for about 20 cents a glass. I took a cooking class where I learned how to make a typical northern dish called Bun Cha which is spring rolls and barbecued meat in a kind of soup with rice noodles. Apparently you're supposed to eat pho for breakfast, and Vietnamese people end up eating about 5 or 6 times a day when it's all said and done. I also have to say that Vietnamese coffee kicks ass... it has a strange kind of spice flavor to it. I went for a tour of the Hanoi Hilton, which really is more of a Ramada Inn at best. My favorite part was the pictures of the captured U.S. pilots playing volleyball or decorating a christmas tree... like they're on holiday or something.

Here's a video of one of my moped taxi rides. Pretty tame but you may get an idea.


I've been trying to say a few words here or there, mostly hello and thank you, but the locals seem pretty indifferent to it. The kids are the friendliest, they'll run up to you and say hello and giggle and run away. I've been called "handsome boy" a couple of times which is understandable. Some things are so powerfully obvious that they cross cultural lines.

I happened to be in town for the September 2nd independence day festival where it seemed like the entire city of Hanoi came out to celebrate. All the streets around the lake were closed down... kind of anyway... with only scooter traffic zooming around the pedestrians and with several stages with music and whatnot. Lots of posters of Uncle Ho around the place.

Also, apparently I have one of those recognizable faces, or all bald people look alike. People I've been compared to so far on this trip:
Karim Benzema
Randy Couture
Zidane (again. What is it about me and French footballers?)
The guy from Prison Break. I've never seen Prison Break so I don't know who that is. I'm not sure I want to be associated with prison anything.

I did manage to take a few days trip out to Halong Bay as well, which is a bay made up of around 3000 limestone islands. Again, it's probably best described in pictures, but I've never seen anything like the expanse of limestone outcroppings popping out of the ocean which seem to go on forever. I won't say it was much of a cultural experience, you had your requisite band of drunken partying English dudes, but who cares when you're on the beach with a 333 beer in your hand?

Half the people I've met seem to be English teachers who taught in South Korea. I met a woman from Massa-Carrara which is about 10 minutes from Viareggio, a French-Canadian guy who hit a pig with a motorcycle and has an irrational hatred of people from Ontario, and on the train ride to Da Nang I rode in a compartment with three people from San Francisco.

By the way, Dong jokes never get old... they're like poop jokes. I could hang out in this country just for that.

Without further ado... here are the pics:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/1B5qq2DhD7iUkBF2A

Take 'er easy,
Dave