Is the Language of Love Universal?

As Valentines day came and passed, I started wondering...is the display and understanding of love universal or do localities have a stronger affect on the culture, especially the expression, of love? With my random ruminations and limited analysis of two distinct cultures during Valentine's Day, my conclusion to the question, Is love a completely biological and internal 'thing'?, is...sorta, not really.

Matchy matchy...look at those pink headbands!



















I've been in two different countries on Valentines Day, USA and HK. I've noticed that both cultures highly commercialize this holiday but in completely different ways. As a single researcher in both countries, I noticed a different commercialized push during Valentines, one for internal completeness and the other for social worth. Both show us that buying flashy, sentimental, or sexy gifts is what we should do if we want to make ourselves and our partner happy. Buying stuff shows that we care (about the relationship or displaying that we're in a relationship). Not buying something for someone on Valentine's Day can imply that you're missing out emotionally (what I noticed in the US) or socially (analysis in HK).

A Western ideal of Valentine's love?

Eastern ideals of Valentine display? Causeway Bay, Hong Kong.

Everyone, in whatever culture, wants to feel like someone gives a damn. But for some cultures it's more for social one-up-manship or keeping up with the Joneses (you're a better citizen, woman, or man), while others it's for the notion that it makes you a better individual. With commercialism, buying or receiving something on Valentine's Day gives you a feeling or acceptance of worth, whether it's social or internal.

Although I've only experienced Valentines Day in the US and HK, I have seen the culture of affection in at least eleven distinct cultures. Having a Valentines symbols "I am desirable" "I am amazing enough to be loved" "I am worth enough for someone to think about giving me this gift."

My roomies (from HK and Mainland China) told me that there are a lot of breakups after Valentine's Day in HK. Girls getting a bouquet of flowers much smaller than others', or none at all, was the reason for many of these splits. Walking around HK on Valentine's Day was very different than anything I was used to. Every other girl was toting around a bouquet of flowers. They were not embarassed or weighed down by this display like many Americans would be walking around with a massive bunch of flowers. They flaunted. Valentine's was a social display of worth. Same same but different?

Heavy, but worth it.

It's been so long. Ruminations without a FOB haircut.

I started writing this journal the week I got my haircut for the first time back in the States. It had been an entire year. I am finishing this around a month later. I deeply apologize to my vast and loyal DJTHK following about my dilatory nature, esp. with this blog.

My life has changed so much in the past 382 days, especially my last now 161 back in the motherland. Yesterday, (now eight, ok now eleven...sixteen) was the anniversary of my first steps outside of the U.S. (minus Canada because that doesn't count.) as well as my first steps of expedited personal growth. So many great memories since these baby steps into a foreign land. Yet, it's so vivid and recent. It's been a long time since then; it's been a long time being back too...

I only realized that I've been back for so extensively from such a long journey when I looked at my new haircut after my 4 hour trek to a Santa Monica hair salon via Los Angeles' infamous public transportation. The significance of my new U.S. haircut took me awhile to understand. I had just cut off my visual connection to my travels. As I purused my mid-HK blog posts, I remembered how my Chinese haircut was that step that pushed me full on into cultural immersion...past attempting to learn Mandarin and Cantonese, past frequenting da pai dong (dirty street food), past dressing in my 5 quai ($0.60) sweater with holes (aka "Ugly") when I went bartering for clothes and practicing "Tai gwae la! Wo shi qiong xue sheng" (Too expensive! I am a poor student.) for an entire hour in the Hong Kong KCR train. My haircuts abroad changed me more than I would have initially imagined. With their irreversible and blatantly obvious appearance I could have tried to tell the person cutting my hair same same please just a little shorter or perhaps Same same m'goi. Siu siu la, but that was not my intention. This time, like last I told my hair stylist, "Shorter please. Do what you want." Now I look like I'm from the States...although I sometimes pull out a fobby "shirt" or a bracelet from Yunnan, generally I'm identified as Filipino-American. That or ESL...all U.S. classifications.

I remember the three haircuts I had abroad vividly:

Haikou, China. 2/24/07.

Hairdressers: 12 Chinese fellas with extremely different personalities via their dos Result: Becoming truly Asian

Mongkok, HK 4/18/07.

Hairdresser: Freddie

Result: A thirst for adventure and looking like an Asian boy with an asymmetrical do

Earl's Court, London 7/10/07.
Hairdresser: Eric

Result: I'm guessing a semi-uneven trim but the birth of a friendship.
Pic: Someone stole my camera, the bastard.

Please contrast to pre-abroad style:

By the way, you're probably wondering how can Crystal not look non-FOBy? This is my new haircut. FOB? I think not!

Ok, so I'm not so un-FOB that I am now a brunette or grew my hair out silky and smooth. I'm the one in the red, silly.

The end of my FOB do is the end of an era.

~~~

So for everything, even outside of a new sense of visual expression, I've got to say it's been awhile...about times when I could just explore my environment like Dora the Explorer (my new role model), when my whole goal was to gain daily enrichment, when I could just have fun with good people.

If you couldn't discern my U.S. do in the previous picture, it looks like Dora's here! (Mi amiga Dora es inteligente y adventurado!)

But I often forget that I've been slowly reacclimating back into society with baby steps and good times. I am not yet out of this confusion and longing of being back. However, I need to remember the times when I have explored around this ghetto of L.A., that I do get daily enrichment through the academic endeavors at school, and I have been able to enjoy life with friends, even if it's sometimes just through sporadic emails.


There have been the few things that have kept me going. The explorative lifestyle that I have learned from my travels has enabled me to enjoy a few adventures here. I am trying to continue to immerse myself in the culture (yes, the U.S. has culture) and acclimate myself (like an annoying but inquisitive tourist) to understand what makes the locals tick. When in Rome do as the Romans do. When in Los Angeles, be superficial? lol. I kid...?

Immersion continues with the following:

As always, I have delved into the poor man's cuisine of my surroundings: now, Mexican food! In HK I ate dan tat (custard egg tarts) nearly daily, in Thailand pad thai, in the London pubs I couldn't keep myself from the steak and ale pies. Yes, I became obese with my gluttonous behaviors. I think this is partially where the locals get the impression that people from the States are overindulgent pigs. Sorry "Americans," I misrepresent?

My daily perspective of HK and Thailand...? Nearly ;O)


















The Brits make pies and puds of everything.










In Beijing xiao long bao (little meat-filled dumplings) were eaten 12 a day and I couldn't get enough of Malaysian roti (flying bread with curry)! I do not think people understand how much local foods really impacted my experiences abroad. It infultrated my waking hours. Every time I strolled around or after a nice splurge of Asian shopping...where are the dirty, cough...I mean authentic, food stands and stores? You'd always find me immersing there.

Beijing dumplings (hopefully the report on how the Chinese added cardboard to the meat fillings were false. Though...I wouldn't be suprised if it was true; sometimes I do expect worse).


















This is a Malaysian scrumptious roti!

















Although I'm not in Mexico c'mon, L.A. is basically an extension of Mexico! Thus, Mexican food has infultrated my life as much as I can handle! It's great because I can't get Mexican food in Hawaii, and well, Mexican food in Britain and Asia...would you really trust that? And I mean Mexican more than just Taco Bell. Coming from a state which has a 1.6% Mexican contingency, I think most Hawaii locals think Taco Bell is not only good but what Mexicans eat daily.

Trying to get addicted to new things unfortunately:

• carne asada tacos (duh!)


• hortacha (a cold refreshing non-dairy drink made of ground rice, cinnamon and sugar rumored to be a cure for a hangover. Wow, did not know)


• chimichangas (deep fried burrito created accidentally in 1922 and named after the dirty utterance when that happened)

• tamales (steam cooked corn meal, also a term to indicate good looking individuals, aka hot tamales!)
  

• conchas pastries (bread roll with colored sugar on top, reminiscent of Chinese bolobao, pineapple buns which I was addicted to for 2 months in HK and then I just realized it was bread with sugar on top with nothing to do with pineapples)
  

• churros (cinnamon fried dough stick, healthy huh?)
  

• pupusas (stuffed corn tortilla generating an income of $22.8 million in El Salvador in 2002).
  

I went to the Tamale Festival a month ago in the ghetto Mexican area of downtown L.A. Ghetto meaning infultrated with culture... See the More 4 Less store back there? Good example. Spent a week's worth of pay to gorge and really taste what it's like to be Mexican. Tried using some espanol too. Failure.

Largest takeaway from here: These people are resourceful. Check out that grocery cart turned into a corn on the cob griller. Impressive.

My one and only travel trek since I came back was my weekend trip to Mexico. Although we only got to visit Mexico's north and touristy cities of Tijuana and Ensenada for global business research, I was in much need of traveling again and was glad to immerse myself into a new culture. Four classes in four buses of USC students drove through San Diego's fires into Mexico to study Mexican business and consumer culture by touring maquiladoras (multinational companies in Mexico that benefit from free trade agreements). Although we got a lot of touristy culture, here's some of my highlights of my Mexican cultural immersion.

Wrestling capes for the Mexican kids...

...and Crystal of course. My Halloween costume as a Mexican kid: the KKKitty. What did I tell you...full on immersion! Though Hello Kitty's Japanese...hmm.

The highlight of my life...or something near to it. We got to do the Mexican Wal-Mart cheer after hearing management decisions and strategies. *clap clap clap bounce wiggly* "FANTASTICO FANTASTICO!" Sigh, mui bueno.














I'm going to miss non-Taco Bell tacos if I ever move.
Eric and Sean: equally excited.

Mexican gaming in McDonalds!
Better than our U.S. ball pits which sometimes have IV needles in them.

Mexico bueno times y amigos.

L.A., the City of Angels, and My Demons

I'm semi-sorry for anyone (really no one) who reads this imageless blog. Someone stole my camera while I narcolepsied in Scotland. If you find them, beat them up...for your own sake. I know how dry these life reflections are, especially with only my mind-numbing stories. You were warned...

I will be blunt. I am currently not intending to backlog-update my blog. I know I promised and I'm dying to show the world and keep my memories of Thailand, Malaysia, China, Stonehenge and prehistoric civilizations, the gardens and castles of the UK, and my lonely trip through Scotland. But I currently can't. I miss this blog so much, but I cannot listen to my passions right now. No more enrichment for the time being, which is sad because I know procrastinating on life choices and things that mean the most to me will probably be regretted. Oh well...I've already accepted that my spirit and personality has become muted.

This weekend I've decided, I hate Los Angeles...I hate it so much it hurts. It's ugly, disappointing, and gaaaar. Now, the ugliness...whatever. I embrace ugly. To the contrary, I would love to dance amongst ugly. But alas...I cannot.

L.A., you're so disappointing. Everyone hears so much about L.A. It supposedly has everything. This is supposed to be the place where there's cool shops, nice beaches, chill people, a glittering nightlife, you know...something. But where are they?! I don't know.

All I do here is sit in my little piece of the ghetto, dying to explore, to be free...but am trapped in location as well as in spirit. Even when I do try to explore this city, I draw upon utter disappointment. It frustrates me because I know that L.A. is so cool, with hidden spots of intrigue and an integration of unique cultures. But I can never tap it. I can never find it. My high expectations are never fulfilled. The last few times that my experiences exceeded expectations feels like so long ago...Laie, Hawaii/Yorkshire, England/Beijing, China/Mongkok, HK. I miss those times so much...where I just feel like skipping around, reflecting about life, or gasping, "Oh my goodness. Why are you so beautiful?"

And I mean, I get that some. Friday I went to the famous Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles, where trans fat in arteries meets diabetes. And it was amazing to sit under those pink florescent lights amongst obese minorities, dipping fried chicken in maple syrup while talking about life, manwhores, and creating ephemeral beauty within an art piece, like drawing on the shower glass after a hot shower just to watch its message dissipate slowly. Friday was a day of disappointments, but also of inspirations to pull myself back out from it. I will skip over the disappointments because I hate hating L.A. It's not my personality, but it's what I've become...a hater. I must remember that there have been a few inspiring times coming back in this ghetto home. The complaining must stop...at least for awhile. I've had some good times?

• Immersing myself in ghetto fab at the cheap, gold sequined store across from Roscoe's with girls equally enthralled with, I want to say ugly, but it's probably more accurate to say "culture" (aka. L.A. sweatshop clothes stolen/sold out to vendor stalls run by a 40 year old man who truly thought this stuff was currently fashionable.)
  

• Narcolpsying under California's golden rays and getting a tan (more like multiple, weird tan lines) after smelling roses instead of reading my cases as intended.

• Eating the best, cheap burrito in another ghetto, (randomly located between Hollywood and Melrose Place) while slopping on "guacamole" and being serenaded to by two men in sombreros.

• Finding a B-ranked, Thai restaurant after walking for 40 minutes after getting off the incorrect bus stop, taking two wrong buses and misinterpreting that most of Melrose is not full of vintage shops.
  

• Seeing the passion of being a Trojan, from its poor and intoxicated students, to its highest donors and celebrities who get their hot dogs and pretzels delivered by an idealized, bronzed and brilliant Trojan student (me) through the watching of a sport of dancing to protect an animal-skin-covered, oblong object.
  

• Experimenting with culinary talents...if you ever eat my food you probably don't want to know how I made it. My last ingenious culmination included oyster sauce, peanut butter, oranges, vegetables, and (peach) yogurt...
  

• Pretending to speak British again with the use of words such as mingin' (butt ugly), wagwan (hello, ghetto British), and righty-o. In the same sense, inserting random Chinese like waaai? (hello?), wo hen ben (I'm obtuse), and random las (i.e. I am ok, la. You are weird, la.) to unsuspecting people in conversations. Now, however...I have been adapting to my Mexican Spanish surroundings to say mui caro (way too expensive, mister) and my all time favorite, no bueno (no good!).
  

• Communicating with people that I'm missing or will miss. Whether it's people that sleep two steps away from me or people that sleep 7,500,433 steps, 640,500,000 freestyle strokes and half a day away from me. It's nice to hear your vocal mannerisms or read your one-person-in-the-world-type of humor.
  

• Realizing that I'm going through something that I keep telling myself will make me stronger.
  

By the way...I'm going to Mexico. I know I'm way too excited, mui feliz... I would've added 50 exclamation points if grammatical and not trying to not be excited (negative negatives!). I don't want to be so happy as to be disappointed yet again, but I just can't help it. I really need to explore and be my adventurous self once more. Hopefully my no bueno espanol (which is worse than my Mandarin...yeah that says a lot) will allow me to explore and have enough utility to buy four Mexican burrito and thirty Mexican pastries.

I cross my fingers. But now realize that I should've been researching my future (Peace Corps vs. domestic job vs. work abroad vs. golddigging), and implementing good student qualities. Crap, I just re-realized that I'm behind in life. Hasta luego!

Not an entry. A rambling because I'm confused and I woke up from a 11 hour nap at midnight. I'm a bit screwed up. Don't judge.

I don't know. I don't know...

What am I to do with my life?!
As I said before, I don't know.

As I am looking at my life I wonder what am I capable of, what can I continue to do that I will enjoy and be enriching. What? What!? Sigh, I don't know. Nothing, possibly. Maybe the only career I can have is a trophy wife.

But alas, I don't even have the marketable skills for that.

One of the major things that I learned in London was yes, of castles and an eternity of history. But also of how I want to live in the working world. I realized how short-sited the U.S. culture of working can be. I was enlightened to see how the UK and much of the world sees a job as part of one's life, not life entirely. We start off in the states with 2 weeks vacation time a year while that is just one vacation period someplace else. Taking a long vacation and having a balanced life was supported when I was in Europe. Yes, it is hard to cover someone for two weeks, but everyone is more than willing to pick up their calls and help out so that you can catch up on living. There was a mutual understanding that one can get the job done and get the job at home done too. That makes so much sense to me. It makes business sense; it makes Buddhist sense. People are most efficient and inspired that way.

Average Number of Vacation Days
Around the World Per Year

Italy	42 days
France	37 days
Germany	35 days
Brazil	34 days
United Kingdom	28 days
Canada	26 days
Korea	25 days
Japan	25 days
U.S.	13 days

Source: World Tourism Organization (WTO).

Pull yourself out of bed, get to work, work, get back home, breathe, sleep.

How would life be without that breathing part? Some people do not need that breathing period in their day. I am not one of those people. When I was in London, sometimes I sacrificed my breathing. I pulled myself out of bed, got to work, loved work, traveled to other work, loved work again, showered and thought about life to then climb into my crickety bunk bed. It was bed transport work transport work transport bed. The story of my life. I guess if you love work and transport, you'd love your life. But even if I adored every aspect of work, this life would not be sustainable. It would not be a life. If you only had time to breathe on your breaks or on weekends, how horrible would it be to dread holding your breath yet again on Mondays? But that's what it is like now. As it is 3:05am on a Monday morning, I'm thinking, fuck. How can I not breathe again for another week?

As I am looking at different jobs, it amazes me how much people sacrifice. Learning, love, sanity... Sacrificing is not bad. By definition, you get something else for what you give up, assumably something that is of more value to you. It's called opportunity costs. Sigh, I guess I have to really look at myself and what I value. I wouldn't really mind spending three quarters of my life in a cubicle if when I'm working I love what I'm accomplishing and love the people that surround me in it. And in reality maybe it wouldn't really matter if I came home late to do nothing other than brush my teeth and sleep. Because everyone will probably be gone doing their own thing, living in another part of the world and be caught up in their own working lives. People won't just be there for you. Life isn't Friends. They will just want to sleep. They will just want to go to work that next day.

If you couldn't tell...um, it's recruiting season.

And I say a cordial wagwan (hi in British) to all those recruiters who get onto my page, (though I don't know how or why you'd get this far since my friends avoid DJTHK like a plague). Do not fret, if I applied to your fine organization I will put in my life's valuable time and love. I will go grey for you. I will be that dependent, competent employee, the one who knows why she is sacrificing and what enrichment it gives to her. I only address my concerns because I weigh all decisions, unfortunately. Once I make up my mind, I put nothing less than my heart into it. To inquire about a resume, please give me a top-notch contact. I am too busy blogging. Only serious companies with a net worth exceeding $4 billion, with fringe benefits of premium health insurance, a violet Pinto, and over 13 vacation days please.

Marketable skills...marketable skills...
Where art thou?

_______________
On a side note, I think I've whittled down what has become my downers in this period of my life.

1. Lack of transportation. This seemingly insignificant logistic has been crutial in bashing any chance that I had on taking my explorative nature and passion to enrich myself when at home. It has whipped both the functional and passionate properties that independence has on a person. L.A., you are so behind in the times. Even China trumps you.

2. Different priorities. Everyone is busy with their own lives. This is as should be expected. ...But sad. Everyone, including myself is too busy...too busy for each other's grandeur.

3. I've been filling up my time with who knows what (ok I do know what), but this filling has taken away from my being. Sometimes I have to just sit and reflect. But it's sometimes too busy to even remember that I need to reflect...or eat. Sigh, you have to breathe and eat, Crystal. Goddamn it...it's imperative for living. Other things may be important, but you must remember to sleep, eat, and breathe. These are imperative actions to keep on living. Living, in the sense of having a beating heart, and living in the sense of having a beating heart.

I am lucky to have found the rose garden in South Central. I have been there a lot these past days. Though I always attempt to read cases and do homework there I unfortunately always spend too much time smelling various rose species' reproductive organs, weeping for the abroad times, and of course, narcolepsy-ing. Thus, if you see me please ask to see my distinct and unique tan lines which range from two-inch-thick backpack strap on arm to large oblique triangle on midriff.


I really should not be blogging right now. But sometimes you have to do things that you do not "have" to do. And those things that I do not "have" to do have kept me going. These have been my breaths. Talking to people just make my heart beat again. Smelling a rose, same same.

Peaches

Can someone make the pain go away?












like please?

Homesick...but Finally Home

I was meaning to put this up three weeks ago and have failed yet again. I have been writing this post for 16 days and much of it is outdated. (I'm now in Los Angeles and just had my first day (...now week) of school back. That's a whole other post on superficiality, intimidation, and readjustment.) However, I still wanted to express my initial feelings and observations of coming back. My blog on secondary impressions is being started so maybe in the near future you'll read about another stage of my reverse culture shock...and maybe even about my long promised 4 month late travels. (Likely? You decide.)

______________

After being abroad for 7 months and 10 days I am finally back to the place I call home. It's been an amazing journey. When people ask about it, I never know how to start, how to explain what has been the most amazing experience... I can talk. I can show with the pictures that I have...the ones that weren't stolen! But retrospective words somehow cannot quite capture its essence. And for some reason, this is what contributes to my loneliness.

Somehow this blog sometimes catches a glimmer of what I feel, how traveling has impacted my very essence. I am always the most pensive and real when I write. So for anyone that reads this blog, thank you (daw je/xie xie/kap koon ka/terima kasih/cheers) for being there for me. It's nice to be heard sometimes, especially on pensive ramblings that mean so much to my sanity. That is unless I do not know you. Then...get a job or something.

Alone with my thoughts.
But beauty once again. The sanity-saving equivalent to London parks and Asian gardens.
Laie Beach, Hawaii

After being away for so long, it's ironically yet inevitably unfamiliar being home. I have told a few people and I still stick by this. I am homesick. How in the world does this happen when you are home, weirdest Crystal? Sigh, I've built myself a home in HK; I've built myself a home in London. Right now, I miss them both to pieces. I probably shouldn't be reflecting as it makes it hurt so much, but how else would I grow?

I didn't realize how essential growth and learning were going to be to me when I first started this journey. And as I reread an earlier blog entry, I am glad that I started my journey with the philosophy: To do, not just to see to tell, but to change. When I started this journey I wanted to grow as an individual and world citizen. I didn't want my experience to be easy, in hotels and only in shopping malls. In the end, I'd say I didn't get easy. I'm impressed that I was able to learn so much...so much about cultures, so much about different perspectives, so much about the human heart...














I tried for every part of my travels, for all 7 months and 10 days, to live for the experience, to enrich myself and others around me. Learning was a priority over fun, over comfort, even over friends and safety sometimes. And for this, it was hard to shun easy. With easy I may have enjoyed life, but would I be living it? And by me always keeping this mindset, for me to actually try, I got the experience that I did. And for that, I don't regret mistakes. I do so much, but yet...no. It has allowed me to become an empathetic person. Before travelling I could only be a sympathetic person, understanding only a half.














I now understand poor (up to a level, true), what it's like to starve, to only look at the "discounted but still fresh" section to find your lunch and dinner for under 3 pounds. I now know what true loneliness is...what it's like to really leave...how people just need to be heard. I saw truly desperate, both financially and emotionally, and have experienced both. I have learned how to hide tears in the subway. I saw what it's like to need to communicate and not be able to in not only language, but also emotions. I've felt unexpected generosity and complete openness from strangers. I have seen how strongly people need each other, but more so, how strongly people need their pride. I have seen the power of sitting amongst the weeds. I've seen the power of one flower, one dollar, one smile. I have learnt the complexity of the human self. How much you can learn from a stranger. How much you can still learn from a good friend. I have learned what utter disappointment is, how full a heart can be and how quickly that can empty. I have seen how much I want to do with my life. But yet, I still must figure out how I can make that impact.














I am so excited to be in my childhood home, don't get me wrong. I've been looking forward to sleeping on my small but perfect bed with Strawberry Shortcake sheets, feeling my parents' unconditional love by their feeding me obese levels of Hawaii food, and having a stronger connection with my grandparents by having "conversations" in the languages of my roots.

However, being home is still not 100%. Part of my mind and heart has been left behind. I want to share what was my world, what inspired me, what ugly things I participated in. But I realize this can never happen.

I talked to my brother and he told me, "Crystal, of course you're depressed again. Maybe if you're lucky you'll stop being depressed by the end of the semester." I asked him how to make the pain go away. The only things that kept him going through the worst time of his life was daily doses of War of Worldcraft and Friends. And yes, I meant to type in Friends and not real friends...how sad our lives are, I know. His prescription was to watch a good movie, 300 perhaps, and by all means to not talk to friends because that makes it hurt. Similarly the only thing that kept my cousin Todd going was hating life with other depressed abroad returners and watching the awesomely bad reality show about stranger "love", Shipmates. What is to become of me?

Look at these non-depressed, naiveties pre-travel.
Some may call it the calm before the storm. 1988.
This is my brother.

It hurt like this when I left HK. The loneliness, the longing for familiarity, needing people that you shared experiences with. It's hard for me to go through this again but this time it's been easier. Maybe it's because I actually have more than a hands-worth of friends here. Quite frankly I sort of have to get used to knowing people again. But weirdly enough with love from so many family and friends I still feel a weird sense of loneliness. People do not always understand. I love talking about my explorations but it usually lacks that connection of a strong understanding...or even that people really want to hear it.

I stumbled upon this reverse culture shock site in my last ditch to add an emotional roller coaster graph (not found). I was surprised at how impeccable its description is to what I wrote with several descriptions of my current ethos. It's nice to know that I'm not alone but am with other losers with this seemingly irrational perspective of loneliness, agitation and lack of inspiration.

Despite my sagacious brother's warnings, I've been keeping myself busy with quality people and things that remind me of what I miss: exploration, cultural immersion, and loving things like I may never be able to again. These have kept me going and smiling. Keeping busy takes away the amount of time you have to think. Boredom is incessant thinking and devastation. I know I did not want easy, but sometimes I can't keep myself from trying to get over this and scheduling too much in to distract myself. But other times I feel like I shouldn't try to forget. I shouldn't cop out and pretend that my travels aren't a significant part of my life and just move on.

I have 11 days in Hawaii. I only have 5 more left. Hopefully at that time I will not be writing another lame blog about being homesick. Crystal, suck it up you're only in such pain because of how amazing your year has been. You have been tremendously lucky to have traveled to 7 different countries in 7 months. And I realize this. And I thank everyone who has allowed me to do that, which includes everyone reading this for you have all in some sense experienced this with me and provided support.

Fighting the consequences of the travel bug, I decided to smack it with it's own medicine, to travel within my home. I mean, why can't I explore this home? I know I'm only in Hawaii of all places but maybe I could jump off a waterfall or something. Ugh.

Some hike in a Palolo, Hawaii backyard with random fruit plants and a sewage pipe















So yesterday I went hiking up a random unheard of "trail". We printed out directions to get to this "hike." So after winding up a few roads, passing a "white pole that says 'Let there be peace on Earth'" and a KAPU (forbidden in Hawaiian) sign we got to this "trail"...probably someone's back yard. Looking around we did not see a very distinct path but with our critical thinking skills decided to just head for the stream and follow it as there was a waterfall ending. Unfortunately, to get down we had to climb down a nearly vertical hill and cling to vines and roots. Fortunately, we saw ginger (which have highly useful roots...though not for clinging to) and Hawaii mountain apples (which we couldn't hit down with rocks). And shhh..secretly I love random non-trails.

Matsumoto's shave ice. Infamous. (See 50 First Dates)
Me being weird and uncoordinated...dropping some.



















That morning I remember missing being able to wander and smell the most fragrant roses from a random UK garden. But then for the first time I felt that I was able to finally appreciate Hawaii, to really appreciate it's gorgeous nature and idealized essence with one deep breath of ginger. I was at home. I was able to smell what Hawaii is, what everyone dreams it to be. Seeing an actual ginger plant, a non-commercial interaction with this herbal and essential culinary ingredient in the wild with its untouched white flowers blew my mind. I know, I sometimes look too much into things...

Home...like "home"
Same same but different

Thank you, Hawaii.
Thank you Hong Kong, China, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, England and Scotland.
Daw je.

If you ever meet your inner child, don't cry.

Tell them everything is gonna be alright.

World, hold on.

The End is Soon

I wanted to let everyone know that I am physically ok. I haven't been writing because of my attempt to be too busy to feel homesick not because of any bomb incidents, torrential flooding, or a physical inability to. Thank you to everyone who thought about me when they heard about all the terrorist attacks in the UK from attempted car bombs to an inflamed car speeding toward Glasgow's airport and even when there happened to be too much rain in this already rain-soaked country. It's nice to know that some people care about my safety.

If you didn't know, terrorism scares gripped Britain several weeks ago and non-stop raining flooded much of the middle of England this past week...and then some.

Although I haven't been writing online, I did write about my reflections on these powerful incidents in my journal which I am sharing with you now, postdated on July 2nd. Initially these things didn't phase me. It felt so far away. But one day when I was sitting at work looking at the map of the car bomb locations, it really hit home. I was there. I walked those streets. I looked at Tiger Tiger and thought that could be a fun place to be one night. But it definitely would not have been fun on that night. Here it is:

On Thursday evening two cars were found in relation to terrorism attacks. They had petrol and nails in them. If they blew up it would've sent huge fireballs with shrapnel the size of houses throughout a 400 yard radius. The cars were found in Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square, close to the pub where I work.

Initially the disastrous event didn't really hit me. It was not a reality to me; it didn't affect me; it didn't seem to harm my living. However, when I saw the pictures of where it occurred and actually thought about these attacks in more than a selfish, immature way, it's scary. It's really scary...

I work close to the places that were supposed to be bombed. Just the other week I left work, took a drink at another pub and tried to find the bus back home. I took a few wrong buses, of course. (e.g. wrong direction, switched number, which one's stop E?!, fell asleep, got my phone stolen...ok not all of that is from that night...) I ended up through Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square and Oxford Street, the places mentioned before. I remember seeing the club Tiger Tiger and thinking how ghetto-swanky it looked and reminisced about Singapore (because everything in Singapore is Tiger-related, from Tiger Balm to Tiger beer) and Tiger Heat (the most hopping Cali-based gay (aka 'light' in England) club). The car bombs were found outside Tiger Tiger when an ambulance man who was attending to a knocked-up inebriated man saw smoke coming from a Mercedes, i.e. the car bomb that would have devastated this city I love. It seems too surreal. That was where I was. That is where I could have been. That is where I continue to bus past.

Bombs could be wherever I go, sure. These "hot spots of terrorism" however, are places where I frequent. They're upping security at Wimbledon, at the parks, at the airport. These are all places where I will be this week. And then it really hit: this affects me. Fireballs the size of bloody houses?! I can't handle that. Shrapnel piercing through staggering night clubbers trying to run away? No, la.

But what hit me most was the question that seemed the most logical then: If a large piece of nail pierced my chest and I did died, how would I feel? And I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't mind so much that I'd be dead. I mean it wouldn't be ideal. I would have liked to have seen Japan, to have seen friends and family again, to change the world in insignificant ways, yes. But I would be fine with the end of my life if it occurred tomorrow. The end would be the end, yes. However, I'd care more on how people would remember me and react to my end of existence. I'm just curious who'd cry, who'd care. If anything would really be different.

I thought about my life and concluded that if I died I'm pretty happy with where I am now as a person. If people just remember my life up to now, no regrets. I've been so enriched from traveling and have become a person that I could look at objectively and not despise too much. I have grown and gotten a better understanding on my true personality, how much of a nutter I am, how curious and full of intention I am, and how dilatory and pensive I've become. Traveling costs so much money and time that I and everyone else always have too little of. I am just so lucky to fit in traveling even when I think I cannot.

I am rather happy with where I am now despite me feeling lost and behind all the time. I have met so many amazing people abroad and made meaningful experiences with them. This made me appreciate all of the people and experiences that I have at home. Unfortunately I'm homesick and ironically this consequently makes me already miss London and HK. I cried yesterday...in a good way. I realized that I have grown so much in all these places that I am and will miss so much. My heart has grown in HK and England. Leaving these places and the people here makes me feel empty not because my heart is torn out. But my heart has become larger by living in these places, and a loss from leaving them makes my heart still greater than it was before. It's good. I've grown...but it doesn't make it hurt less.

But I will be reunited one day, possibly. I will be reunited with Hawaii soon, hopefully soon enough.