Ting

The Grey Skies of Lima

2009-07-05T20:11:00.001-07:00

It was somewhat anti-climatic to arrive in Lima (via a late night bus from Nazca) after three weeks of traveling around Peru. For one, you come to a realization that the holiday is nearly over. Second, while the rest of the country is colorful and vibrant, Lima is decidedly grey. They did not write poems about its grey skies for no reason. It is gloomy for the most part of the year, we were told. The three days that we were there was no exception.

But this didn't stop us from exploring the city. There are ruins and parks around Milaflores which is the tourist/financial district. Barranco is the hip restaurant/club area which needs to be visited on weekends. Central Lima is where Plaza Mayor is, which means this is the religious and political center of the city, if not the country. There is enough churches and monasteries to visit, in case you have not had your fill.

It is easy to follow the well-worn path of tourists in this sprawling city, but here are the interesting finds: Museo de Inquisition gives you a take on this dark part of Spanish colonial history that did not spare Peru. It is free and an insightful guide takes you around the exhibits that include the court chamber, prison cells and modes of torture and death. Nearby is a monastery that has a french restaurant ran by nuns, L'Eau Vive, which is your best bet for fine dining (and maybe star gazing) in the city.

The anywhere-in-the-world-type of mall, Larcomar, boasts of great views of the Ocean and is right next to it, which makes going there forgivable. If you must, this is also where you can find Starbucks, KFC, Burger King, Pizza Hut and everything else that is birthed 6 hours away in American soil.

My personal favorite is the small, easily missed, Parque del Amor. What can I say? The name says it all. It has Gaudi-esque park benches with mosaic and carvings of quotes and names of famous lovers. Apparently, it is a tribute to the time-honored Peruvian tradition of courtship in the park.

In the middle of the park stands a larger than life sculpture of Victor Delfin, "El Beso." It is a man and woman engaged in passionate kiss done in clay.

I like the movement of the sculpture as well as its texture. The color, however, did not seem to take into account the dark background of the clouds. I am sure it would look good on blue.

But perhaps that's what it is meant to be.

A spark under the grey skies of Lima, two people oblivious to the omen of the color above, just locked in a moment. Abandon and affection, just as art should be ;-)

Waiting for Condors

2009-07-01T13:47:00.000-07:00

It is 4:00am. We were more than 4,000 sq.m. above sea level. I was buried under two alpaca wool blankets (Note: they do not smell like Woolite) and has two hot water bottles around my feet. Pitch dark. I was dreaming that a woman was calling at my door in Spanish, "Senora!" Wait... it is real. Manual wake-up call.

We were meeting at 5:00am to drive to Colca Canyon to see condors. They look like eagles, but are not eagles. To see such powerful vultures up close is the highlight of the trip. But I could not really spur up more enthusiasm at this time of the day.

We visited two small towns on the way and took a stop on a church. A man with a large eagle tied to him is offering to take photos for a fee. I thought we woke up at the crack of dawn to hurry to the Canyon lest we miss the condors. But, no. We stopped once again and from a distance looked at pre-Incan tombs around the mountain cliffs. "Why do you think they did that?" our guide challenged. The more important question is, "Why did we get up at 4:00am for detours like this?" ;-)

Alas, we arrived at Condors Cross. The natural habitat of the iconic birds of Peru. It was a beautiful part of the Canyon and the sun is just hitting us. We sat down near the cliff and waited. Then waited. And waited. Taking a picture with the eagle on my wrist does not seem like a silly idea now. People won't know it is not a condor.

We were there for about an hour ready to shoot. With cameras. Then we finally saw one fly by, and then he was gone. Half an hour passed by, still there was none. (You start to rhyme in situations like this.)

And then they came, one by one, and then two, and then four at the same time. Then they were everywhere. Flying from high. Swooping down as if taking a pose. Perched on a rock close by. Using the temperature variance in the air, they playfully glide across the Canyon. Was it worth waking up at 4:00am? Yes. It was wonderful to watch. The freedom. The grace. The joy that wings can bring. How I wish.

Meeting Machu Picchu

2009-06-21T21:09:00.001-07:00

The site that launched a thousand tour buses. The city that put Peru on the map. The top of every traveler's list in South America. The enigmatic city of Machu Picchu. Notwithstanding the farmer's protest strike that paralyzed the transports around the province of Cuzco, we made it to the heartland of the Incan civilization.

Hardly an ancient site as it was built around the fifteenth century, its discovery in 1911 seems to have obliterated Peru's history before the Incas. Dubbed as the "Lost City of the Incas," it is shrouded by mystery of how it was built 2,350 meters above sea level and why it was built and subsequently abandoned. An American historian, Hiram Bingham, brought the site to international recognition, and to this day his footsteps are followed by throngs of American college students in their summer break. (Read: "Tourist Menu" means pizzas and beer which is suspiciously aplenty in Peru.)

The architecture of the city is impressive, as its innovation in terms of "laboratory" farming. How the city maintained its water source, as well as support an irrigation system for its

sizable farms is genius of the age. The huge trapezoidal rocks are iconic, and how they were put together without the aid of wheel or mortar remains a wonder. It is even more remarkable that it remain standing even after earthquakes that took down more modern structures. Of course, I am "personally" impressed that the Incas who reputedly had an average height of five feet is able to climb up and down this city, let alone lug all those boulders around.

First impression of meeting Machu Picchu in the Winter of 2009 is that it seems like a manicured park. (That is, of course, after the stark observation that there are no toilets in the whole site except for the ones before the entry gate. It's like Mongolia all over again.)

Nevertheless, going around the city, it does not fail to impress. The views from the mountain are captivating, there are curious nooks and crannies to explore and the bigger structures are awesome. The pleasant surprise of the experience is that it is not crowded at all. First of all, the site is huge, also, it is "off" season: winter in the Southern hemisphere. (Translation: it is the best time to go. It is not that cold anyway.) By the afternoon, there were only a handful of people around, so we scale the place at a leisurely pace with plenty of 'megapixel' moments.

A couple of hours of detour, we took a hike to Intipunku which gives rewarding views of the whole city, as well as the winding roads carved on the mountain that lead to it. Everyone will tell you that this is where they found the bodies of two fateful lovers- a local Inca woman and a Spanish soldier- killed to saved the city from being found by invading Spanish conquistadores. (You can always count on forbidden romance to endanger a whole civilization.)

Whether Machu Picchu is a citadel, an experimental farm, a prison city or the birthplace of the gods no one is certain. Whether it was abandoned willfully or its inhabitants died of an epidemic no one is sure. I think that is part of the journey to Machu Picchu, not knowing. However, I would say, it would not be the highlight of Peru. The country is too beautiful, interesting and diverse to be reduced to that. It is well worth a visit.

P.S. I would definitely want to come back and do the famous Inca trail... you know, the opportunity to not shower for four days =)

Hiking in the Amazon Rainforest with My Twin

2009-06-07T11:50:00.000-07:00

On our first day in Peru, loaded with the infamous COCA tea, we boarded an early morning flight to Puerto Maldonado where our Amazon rainforest adventure begins.

We were picked up from the typical 'one-horse town' airport by our efficient and congenial hosts. They took us to a kiosk where twelve odd tourists were assembled. We were asked to pack for 4 days and leave the rest of our baggage behind. (Sir? Excuse me, what do you mean leave the baggage behind? Oh, take only what I can carry on the trail? Gotcha.) Quickly, as everyone was waiting on us, I stashed a few shirts, shorts, socks and underwear into my back pack and the survival kit of sunscreen and insect repellent- the smell of a true holiday.

Our hiking guide asked us to choose our pair of mud boots. (How nice, but I think I am okay with my own hiking shoes. Really.) Got on a boat and began our journey on the Rio Madre de Dios. It connects to the Amazon and in three days, we can reach Bolivia. But for today, our destination is Lake Sandoval where our rainforest lodge awaits. Lunch was served on board in palm leaves (and other eco-friendly material that will bring tears to Al Gore`s eyes).

We checked-in with the rainforest ranger, or something, and then was asked to put on the mud boots. (They are really pushing the issue on the mud boots.) So the hike began. It would take under an hour, we were told. And as we get into the thick of the forest, it quickly became very apparent why we NEEDED the mud boots. (The mud is higher than my boots! I should have tried the adult-size ones.) The generous shade of the rainforest, rain from two days ago and 97% humidity made sure that the 4Km road to the Lake is in slippery, mushy and gooey mud nearly all the way. (I bet Harrison Ford had a double for this type of scene. Or maybe his crew lined it up with wooden planks, that whooz!)

I plod along the trail, holding on to trees and shrubs to prevent a fall or slip, sometimes trusting my whole body weight on a branch. I am admiring how quiet it is apart from the ocassional animal sound, and the calm even eerie feel the primary forest inspires. (I have not seen so much mud in my life! My feet are at least 2lbs heavier. I so do not want to slip! I am not ready for a Peruvian facial mask.) Alas, we arrived on a narrow stretch where a small boat awaits, it ferryied us through a short canal that led to the Lake.

We arrived at the lodge which is simple and cozy. There were hammocks up front, a small games and bar area, some lounge chairs and large dining hall. We were told the electricity is rationed. (That answers the hair dryer question.) It has been a long day and our hiking guide gave us time to shower (Cold, of course) and rest before our night time hike.

We reconvened after sun set, armed with flashlights and reeking in insect repellent, we followed our fearless leader in search for tarantulas, giant mosquitoes, termites and other bugs. (Seriously, are we hiking just to see some insects? The same ones we are trying to repel with a gallon of OFF spray?) Convinced that insects sustains the eco-system in their own special way, we went back to the lodge. Lights out at 10pm and first hike tomorrow morning at 5:30am. To bed at last. (Yikes! This bed is so damp, it seems like someone else has slept on it, smells like it, too. And I have just taken a shower!)

We piled on a boat the next day before sunrise, with our guide as zealous as a Crocodile Dundee looking for crocs, but in our case, the king of the Lake are the giant otters. More hike we saw squirrel monkeys and other animals. Then again, we had an outing just to see killer trees. (A.k.a. "The Blair Witch Project- The Reenactment") One morning at 5:00am we even took a trip back to the mud trail to see macaws. (I can't believe I woke up at 4:00am so I can go back to the mud trail to see birds that look like a domesticated parrot!) At night, we watched the sunset on a boat while looking for caimans. (Yep, those 'gator-like reptiles floating about, hopefully they don't mind us poking around with our flashlights.)

After five days, it was time to go back to civilization. We took the same fateful mud trail back to the River. (I guess my entry on the 'suggestion box' that they build a bridge from the River, did not make it in time for our departure.) We saw a lot of hikers on their way in, they are looking at our state, with some warranted apprehension. We look every bit the part of an extra in an Indiana Jones film... ready to board a flight to Cuzco... on to more hiking.

Off to Peru

2009-05-15T17:35:00.000-07:00

Fulfilling a life-long dream of going to Peru.

Here's to more dreams coming true...

Buzzer Beater

2009-05-10T23:56:00.000-07:00

Big Baby Davis scored a 21-foot jumper at the horn to claim Celtics 2-2 win against Orlando Magic by 1 point!

Yeah, Baby! This is how it is done.

This is what I am looking to do with the final two weeks of my Spring Semester.

2009-05-09T22:27:00.000-07:00

Spring Semester 2009 countdown...

... 2 more weeks to go...

.... 2 more papers to go...

... 2 more final exams to go...

and then, to PERU I go!

The Chiropractor's Office

2009-04-18T21:48:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I had excruciating back pain. Bad enough that when I cough or sneeze, it makes me want to stop it... So when a friend of mine told me of a friend who is an intern to a chiropractor who might be willing to "cure" me, I was delighted.

It's not exactly one of those clinical trials or "drug testing on animals," but at $15.00 per visit, it does sound like a scam. ;-) (I assure you, it is not.)

So goes my first EVER visit to a chiropractor. I love massages, and the sound of cracking bones do not intimidate me at all, so I happily filled up the "first time visitor" chart. What followed is a thorough examination of my health, apparently, including mental.

I do not really expect anything special from these things because I am happy to report that I have never been hospitalized, do not smoke, and thanks to my school's Community Pact, do not drink. Then came the blood pressure examination...

As Nate (the intern) was prepping me for the test, he wrapped the inflatable pad on my arms. "I don't believe this," he declares, "I never had to use this before, but here it is." He proceeded to take off the inflatable pad, and out of his gym/doctor bag comes out this taxi-yellow-with-rainbow-polka-dots-number. He is fitting me for the children's blood pressure equipment!!!

If you know me, you know that I have a thousand and one retort for this kind of situation. But it was difficult to do so, because I have a thermometer in my mouth. All I could do is sit there and think, (1) I do at least 4 kinds of weight lifting exercise on my arm, and yet I ended up with the Sponge Bob blood pressure kit, and (2) what kind of a world we live in when they have instruments that take blood pressure reading off seven-year-olds?

On to my ailment, Nate asks "From a scale of 1 to 10, ten being the most painful experience you had in your life, how do you rate this pain? (Errr... are we counting the decline of the UBS stock from $38 to $8?) I said "seven" because I like the sound of it.

After an hour of eye test, ear test, medical history, etc., etc., I was asked to wear those basketball shorts (the ones that Jabbar wore in the 70s) and a hospital gown. I was lying face down as he inspect my back. Then he proceeded to give me "adjustments."

It is a very curious thing when a doctor asks you to hold your arm across your chest, then he has your legs in between his, then he scoops you up tight to hold your upper body weight and then say, "Relax." ... Yeah, that's going to happen... I was asked to take a deep breath, and as soon as I exhaled, craak-a-ta-tak! My mid-back just got adjusted, and I felt it! I could almost swear I walked out of there at least half an inch taller now that my back is straightened out.

The whole time, Nate and the doctor were consulting about the procedure, identifying my body parts in their scientific names. The CSI-geek in me is thinking, "Wow, people DO talk that way." Whatever you do boys, just stay away from my gluteus maximus.

So, two more appointments later, I am free of pain... at least, of the chiropractic-kind...

Getting Hitch-ed

2009-03-27T18:27:00.001-07:00

As I was rummaging through the Biola Library for materials for an upcoming paper I need to write, I was drawn to the Video section. After all, the weekend is coming up.

It is here that I realized that our humble library has an impressive collection of Alfred Hitchcock movies, some of them in their "restored" version.

Of course, my first pick is "Rear Window." Such a great movie for its technical excellence, minimalist plot and intelligent acting. Because this is the DVD era, you get the "Special Features" which are quite special.

I watched the documentary about the "restoration" of this film and in the process praising the genius of Sir Alfred Hitchcock whom they fondly call "Hitch."

If I did not lose my ID today (fell off my pocket as I was biking to the gym... argh!), I would have checked out "The Man Who Knew Too Much," then "The Trouble with Harry," then switch back to "Vertigo" and "North by Northwest." Do I dare watch "Psycho" again? Well, why not. There are worse things you can do than getting "Hitched" again.

P.S. The title of this BLOG is a tribute to my dear friend Missy, who, in a very different and more romantic way, is getting "hitched." Congratulations! This June, she is walking down the aisle in the manner of (Alfred Hitchcock's muse) Grace Kelly.

Wish You Were Here

2009-02-15T17:25:00.000-08:00

If you have done any sort of traveling or moving, chances are you have signed a post card or letter with the words, "Wish you were here."

Having lived abroad for the most part of my adult life and travelled to nearly as many countries as my age, you'd think by now I am used to 'wishing people were here.' The truth is, missing family and friends is something that is hard to get used to. What happens is you just learn to go about your daily routine without a mental inventory of who is around you or who is not. But every now and then, you get a reminder of who is not there, and then you start to miss them.

I received a letter from Analee recently. Bless her heart she still writes them old school. I was delighted to receive her usual encouraging note, but then a photograph fell as I opened it, and there it was... our picture the day we spent together in California. A snapshot of a lifetime ago and my new 'home'. My eyes welled with tears.

I miss Analee. I miss friends in Hong Kong. I miss Hong Kong. I miss my family in the Philippines. I miss my Mom. I miss my nieces and nephews. I miss Bea, Rainer, Summer, Lizzie, TJ, Alfie, Curt, Owel, Pia, Jose, Lael (whom I have not seen). I miss Nina and Jules. I miss Sunny. I miss Missy. I miss walking around SoHo looking for a place to eat or to take out food. I miss Pure Fitness. I miss the Italian Deli on Caine Road. I miss jogging on Bowen Road.

The list goes on... and on.

Wish you were ALL here.

Sort of unrelated P.S.: I miss wine, good ol' vino of any kind.

Hit and Run

2009-02-05T19:31:00.001-08:00

A rainy Friday night two weeks ago, my sister and I were going to the Mall. We were on Imperial Highway on full stop waiting for the light to turn green. Chatting and fiddling with the car heater, my sister and I heard a screech. It was as if an accident happened behind us. We both looked back.

Baaam! In a

split second we were jolted forward. It sounded like a few cars crashed on us. I stepped on the brake real hard as the impact was pushing me to the car in front of me. The light turned green, the

car who bumped into us pulled to the lane on my right. I looked at her, expecting her to make eye contact.

As the other cars ahead of us were driving forward, she careens to take a right turn. Panicked, I tried to take a photograph of her license plate in my head. My sister wrote

it down on her i-phone. Instinctively I followed after her. I lost her a few blocks down.

We went to the nearest Police

Station and made a report. The license plate we gave is good and matches the description that we gave. The patrolman took photos of my car, he noticed some blue paint on my bumper. I was told that they will contact us again possibly to identify the driver and I was encouraged to prosecute.

The next day, I took

photos of the damage. In daylight, I realize what the blue paint was. It is the imprint of a California license plate in a mirror image on my bumper. These seven characters I will never forget. However, her face it seems was not as remarkable.

Three weeks has passed and the police told us that she has hired a lawyer. The dreaded "L" word. We were asked to go to the Police Station for a photo line up to identify the driver.

The city of La Habra, all seven miles long of it, gets 25-30 hit and run accidents in a month. WOW! I thought it is such a huge number, but here's why...

The photo line up turned out to be enlarged (2x2 inches) DMV driver's license photo. It is not even a current photograph. (As a side note, I have curly hair on my DMV photo, so good luck to anyone who would want to identify me.) We signed documents to acknowledge our understanding of the procedures. I took my time to look at the photos and two girls immediately grabbed me. "I think it is #6." They wrote it down on the paper and I signed.

My sister and I failed to identify the driver. This is the end of the case. I took with me the piece of my bumper where you can read off her license plate, apparently it is of no use to the police since I was not able to identify her.

They cannot even make her go to the police station. Especially with the lawyer, it is impossible. All those tv drama that you watch when they take in people for questioning due to "probable cause," it is a cruel fiction.

It is all up to my insurance company now to collect whatever it cost to repair my car. But even then, I stand a chance of not getting back my deductible, etc. She gets away with it with "possibly" her insurance covering my loss. Not even a traffic ticket. I am told her lawyer would most likely insist that the DMV lien be lifted on the car so she would not be inconvenienced when she re-registers her deadly weapon.

So while I started this experience with a huge question of "WHY" do people leave the scene of an accident, I come away thinking... well, for her, it paid off.

I am very disappointed and perplexed... not dissimilar to my feelings after the accident. I feel like I have been hit-and-run again.

(So how does it work? Your kid comes home Friday night with a dent in her car after doing a hit-and-run, and what you do is hire a lawyer?)

Sunday Sports Page

2009-02-01T20:06:00.001-08:00

It is a lazy Sunday. I packed a weekend bag and a couple of textbooks and headed out to my brother's place in Rancho Cucamonga for his birthday weekend.

My brother is a sports fan, so as a fitting gift from the 'girls' - wife and sisters - he gets undisturbed tv time watching sports. Fine with me.

First order of the day, as in 2:00am, is the Australian Open championship match between Rafa Nadal and Roger Federer. My boy Rafa won this one, not with less effort than last year's Wimbeldon but certainly with more ease. It is a new era in tennis and this young Spaniard has just began.

The day was interrupted by my sister's favorite sport- shopping. As a pre-Superbowl treat we headed out to Off Fifth Saks Avenue for a little retail therapy with the US recession in mind.

Back home in time for the Superbowl, I could not resist to nap. The game started slow and loose. The last five minutes, however, made up for the lack of sizzle. This one was decided by spy cameras and official review of the winning touchdown. I am sure tomorrow's news is littered with speculations whether or not Santonio Holmes followed Casey Casem's advise to keep both of his feet on the ground as he reached for that star... ehem, ball.

As a side note, I am not too sure what to make of a player who gets a foul for "unnecessary roughness" (believe me, it was very rough and truly unnecessary) who wears a tattoo that says "PEACE" across this biceps and the cross beneath it. Hmmm...

Revisiting New York

2009-01-12T09:09:00.001-08:00

A Foggy Day...

Me, Ate Jen, Nina and Jules early in the morning at the Brooklyn Bridge.

A short walk (by New Yorker standard) is the South Sea Port / Pier 17 which is a quaint commercial block updated from its "fishy" origins.

On another day, we went to The Met, which is like a visiting an old friend. It was more crowded than usual and the viewing hours was shorter than usual, too. But we moved swiftly through a few exhibits both old and "new.

This visit, I rediscovered Amedeo Mogdiliani, featured here with my beautiful niece. Jules is a remarkable artist in her own right, just look at her crayon painting below.

We also took a trip to the Natural History Museum, first time for me, which is as interesting as overwhelming. The crowd was thick with Ben Stiller fans taking snap shots of "Gum-gum."

The White Christmas Album

2009-01-11T22:17:00.001-08:00

This is me, near the New Jersey turnpike, with my sister Jen and her two daughters, Nina and Jules.

Despite the solid 70s F forecast in California, I headed east for the holidays. I spent Christmas and New Year with my sister's family in New York... still my favorite American city.

After I land at JFK, I head out to Mid Town for a Bear Stearns reunion, cele- brating the good times we had together that outlived our beloved firm. In this photo is Cappy, Mo, Johnny Mo and Adam- part of the Emerging Market Corporate Bond team- an experience Billy Murph described as "middle school without a teacher."

Thanks WJ for taking me out to dinner later on that week!

I changed gears the next day, attending the Christ- mas Program of Saint Sebas- tian School in Queens to watch my nieces perform. It was a unique experience for a single gal like me to rub elbows with the suburban PTA crowd.

A New York Christ- mas is not com- plete without a trip to Rocke- feller Plaza to see "the" tree. Its festive lights competing with the hundreds of flash going off every second.

The best part of the trip is spending time with my nieces, Jules and Nina (whom I fondly call "Barnie") who were patient to take their aunt around, and sat still for ALL those movies.

I fear the day that they will be taller than me, and tell me they are not kids anymore. But for now, I am so proud to get to know two lovely young women coming to their own.

I am looking forward to your visit in California this summer!

Rectified

2008-12-21T21:51:00.001-08:00

Would you believe that I have not been on a plane since I left Hong Kong to move to California?

Would you believe that I have shot photographs only once the past year?

Both have been rectified thanks to online shopping.

I got this new Canon Rebel XS as a birthday and Christmas and New Year gift to myself courtesy of amazon.com, which gives away a free 75-300mm lens along with it.

I am off to New York on a United Airlines flight bright and early (more like dark and early) tomorrow morning courtesy of expedia.com

I am sure this will lead to all kinds of retrospection... I will spare you for now ;-)

Finals Week

2008-12-17T10:12:00.001-08:00

This is my bedroom floor from the edge of my bed. This is me writing my "Text-to-Life" project for a Greek Exegesis class. The last item on the to-do list this semester.

It is Finals Week at Talbot. Some of you may not necessarily connect with the term, but students like me know it only too well. The last hump on the road, a week of frantically writing papers, studying for exams and last chance to get caught up on required reading.

After this week, it would all be over. What seems like countless of hours in the library and thousands of pages to read, (and maybe $100 worth of photocopies!) has finally come to a pause. Another semester is over, we have gotten some answers, learned a lot but left with an acute awareness of how much more we need to know, to explore, to discover, yet.

One of the things I like about being back to school is the changing of the seasons. (Well, I am in Southern California so that is debatable weather-wise!) We go on cycles of sixteen weeks. A fresh start: new books that smells so good ;-) new set of classmates, a (new) professor/mentor teaching a new course. You settle into a new schedule and travel along the path of learning. And even when you think you are just getting started, Mid-Terms sneak up and coaches you to run faster. Then up ahead, an incline- Finals Week.

That's where I am right now. Seven pages more to write, a get-together to celebrate tomorrow night, then off to New York on a flight! (You know what they say about insanity and rhyming, right? Yes, school is actually hazardous to your mental health.)

America Has Changed

2008-11-14T22:09:00.001-08:00

I have chosen interesting times to live in the United States. So far, I have witnessed a remarkable Superbowl and a classic NBA championship. Nothing, however, prepared me for the drama that was Obama vs McCain. (And the Palin side-show.)

There is something to be said when you know you are living "history." A word usually reserved for the past but aptly describe the present. But if there is anything that the Obama victory tells me, it is that America has changed - the English perfect tense, used for emphasis on completed action.

The new Presidency is voted for its promise of change in the government of "the most powerful nation on earth," (sorry, I could not help the quotation marks) which is probably at its weakest. The real message of Vote '08 is not that America is changing or will change but that it has changed.

I have a healthy interest in my host country's politics. (Actually, who doesn't? There is something for everyone in American politics.) From my vantage point, this nation has changed. Electing a young African-American as President is the latest of the unprecedented headlines that has hit the American scene in the last decade, not the first. It is the result of change, not the impetus. It is the State of the Nation, not a campaign promise.

My F-1 visa expires in 2010... I wonder what it would be like then.

Thou Shall Not Covet

2008-10-26T15:21:00.000-07:00

Needless to say, reality has sunk in hard since my last post featuring the Rolex Pearlmaster. I am in the middle of reviewing for 4 (1,2,3,4) Mid Term Exams happening on Monday and Tuesday, so I went for a little retail therapy.

No, I did not buy a $19,000 watch. But I was not able to resist this Anya Hindmarch bag for less than $50.00! I still remember when this hip British designer brought the infamous cotton flour sack bags with a logo, "I am not a plastic bag" into Hong Kong. They were going for $30.00 (we're talking American dollars) and hundreds queued up at their store. After all, it was such a bargain considering her designs retail anywhere from $450 to something a bit less than a Rolex watch =)

Target ("tar-jay" for those Americans in the know) launched the Anya Hindmarch Limited Collecti on this month. I finally managed to get to the store for errands of the chocolates-and-candies-kind. Wola, a few of the bags were there. After my eyes recovered from the shine of the patent nylon, I settled on this photogenic and practical satchel. $44.99! What a steal. I have to confess, though, that I did not expect to get the bag so easily. No long lines, no haggling, no hustling. It did not feel like I was getting such a good deal without the "coveting" drama that it would have accompanied elsewhere. Doesn't that sound so bad? It does. And it is.

Anyway, when they bag it in one of those plastic grocery bags at the counter, I got over the feeling, and just resolved to enjoy my purchase. I am sure it would look good in dark clothes for the winter. All I need now is colder weather in Southern California. That may be an item for next season, it is still 30C here!

P.S. If you are in for a real "bargain" you can get this woven leather bag at 40% discount for $500 !

Chimera

2008-10-15T22:34:00.000-07:00

Chimera... courtesy of my Mac Thesarus, I found a sophisticated word for "delusion."

This week has been hectic. I had to memorize Ancient Near East Maps, Greek verb paradigms and a few memory verses. I had two papers due, a presentation to do and the Mid-terms are lurking. My brain is so crammed, I might just grow a thumb drive off my ears.

So, while I take a 'break' from typing away yet another research paper, I took Missy's idea of "stop and smell... the watches." (I prefer them to purses.)

Found this Rolex Pearlmaster on the web, the photos are just so alluring. Even with my double vision from staring at the computer screen all day, I can almost see it on my wrist. Oooooh...

Snap! now, back to the books.

CLASSES ON-GOING

2008-09-22T19:27:00.001-07:00

Finally, a new blog... This is me at the Biola Library plowing through an Old Testament Survey book to look for a topic on a class project... Fall Semester has began and for reasons unknown, I have enrolled in six courses... For the next two weeks, I have 6 quizzes and nearly a thousand pages of reading to do.

So if you ever wonder what I am up to... I will keep this picture here for your reference.

P.S. This picture is courtesy of Timmery's relentless documentation of our lives in Talbot. a.k.a. 'stalking'

CLASSES ON-GOING

2008-09-22T18:28:00.001-07:00

The Nap

2008-08-22T14:47:00.001-07:00

The world wide web has much to say about taking a nap. Virtually every medical association of some sort has made a comment or a study on the benefits of a nap. All that I have read seem to have made a complicated thing out of it, giving out exact scientific definition, medicinal benefits, psychological effects, etc. And even as the "For Dummies" franchise has resisted the temptation, it seems like the Boston Globe was compelled to write a guide, "How to Nap." I remain unconvinced.

After giving up my job, then enrolling in school, and better yet, being on vacation from school over the last couple of weeks, I have become - shall we say- gotten re-acquainted with this wonderful coveted thing called "the nap."

I remember being "forced" to take a nap as a child. I thought it was a nuisance, an unwanted break from watching tv or from playing. But as the years go by, I have matured and taken a different perspective ;-) Oh what a great thing it is to break the day with a precious nap. To take a break, lie down, close your eyes, relax, re-charge. When you open your eyes - after fifteen minutes or two hours - the world is a different place.

Truly, it is the most uncomplicated thing. Do not let those medical associations fool you. It is one of life's simple pleasures. It is pure and beautiful. Something we have all been doing since the day we were born.

So what have I been doing over the last few weeks? I am going back to my original calling. Where it all started. Something I have been born to do but got distracted by this thing called Life. Yes, my dear adult friends ... I have been taking naps. (Lots of it.)

Next week, the Fall semester starts, and I fear that the goal of attaining a Master's Degree will get in the way of my summer occupation. I will miss my daily afternoon nap. I am enrolled in a few classes this semester, and if all goes well then my distinguished professors will not find me slumped in the classroom taking a nap (like the first picture above).

Wish me luck...

P.S. Timmery just informed me that school starts Wednesday and not Monday. Woo-hoo-hoo! Three more afternoon naps! It is practically a new life.

Over-Analyzing the John Mayer Concert

2008-08-06T16:51:00.000-07:00

Buying it months in advance, I almost forgot that I have tickets to the John Mayer Summer Tour last July 27. I bought "Room for Squares" when it came out in 2002 and intermittently followed his career over the years, part icularly his guitar-playing.

Though I am far from being a groupie, there are a few things I have expected from the Concert which, shall we say, were delivered over and above the call of duty.

Being a frustrated guitar-player, I have come to watch John Mayer to

play the guitar. I know that he has won Best Male Vocals here and there, but I think his singing prowess is only second to his skill in playing that guitar.

I counted at least 6 guitars used during the concert. And he played it like a piano, like a violin, like a harmonica. He played it with grace, with power, without his shirt, and even on his back. What really impressed me is that he played lead guitar with no breaks for nearly two hours straight. (I guess that's the advantage of being a young rock star.)

Having said all that, his singing is worth noting. Each time I attend a concert like this, I always make note if the artist sounds as well or as close as his CDs. (I am kinda over-suspicious of digital editing and special effects that "enhances" the musical experience.) In this regard, John Mayer scores high points for singing as well, if not better, than his albums. The surprise, maybe, is the way his face contorts as he hit those notes.

Of course, I expected him to sing "No Such Thing" or "Why Georgia", which he did on a slightly updated arrangement in acoustic guitar. He sang a new song which, by any estimation, will guarantee him a hit.

What I did not expect from this deal (apart from him shaving off his head) is how many women are in the crowd. Being one of them, I guess I am not to talk. I know he has a Ladies' Man reputation (whatever that means) but this did not prepare me for the estrogen overload in the venue that night.

It was a lovely park-like outdoor ampi-theatre on a hill set up like a summer fair. (Not so good for those wearing stilletos.) For that night, this part of Irvine, California was littered with teenage girls driven to the venue by their parents who proceeded to have a picnic in the parking lot. There were college kids singing "Waiting on the World to Change" in heartfelt chorus. Ehem, there are 30-something women dressed up like Jennifer Aniston, and yes, they were the ones in stilletos. = )

What I wonder as I sit there listening to John Mayer sing is how much of this crowd

listens to what he is saying. This man who seems to be on top of the world sings with more than a pinch of cynicism and profound loneliness. At 30.

Perhaps, that is what one should expect from a rock star. John Mayer displays overwhelming confidence of youth. When you know you are so ahead of the pack as you are doing what you have always wanted to do in life, as your peers are still "trying to figure" it out. He performs with enormous energy in front of adulating thousands like he has just broke into stardom.

And yet, if you really listen to John Mayer, you will know the man who "just found out that there is no such thing as a real world, just a lie to rise above". He has his "quarter-life crisis" marked by Grammy trophies asking the world, "Am I living it right?". He speaks of gravity bringing him down, of dreaming with a broken heart, and of "knowing that I would always be lonely".

It was a great concert, I was at awe, I was entertained, I listened and I heard. Okay, it was a concert that started at 7pm with the first front act. Another at 8pm (Colbie Colliat) and then John Mayer appeared at 9pm for a gig that lasted till 11pm. Way past this groupie's bedtime, therefore, I was over-intellectualizing. Till the next.

To Learn A New Language

2008-08-01T16:04:00.000-07:00

Most adults, especially of a certain age, has a To Do List reserved for more than just the normal household chores. These lists are typically titled: "Things to do before you turn 30, later adjusted to 40, and so on and so forth" or "Things to do on a break- in between jobs, summer time, moving to a new city, etc." Due to a recent movie, of course, titles have taken a fatalistic turn like, "Things to do before I hit the bucket".

Some Lists are very personal and profoundly-held. Some Lists are for show with little intentionality (like for those who write down bungee jumping). Whatever the case may be for your list, I dare say that a popular entry is "To learn a new language".

This morning, I had my final exams for Beginner's Greek II. This is the completion of my intensive 7-week course learning first century Greek (Koine) with a view to read the Greek New Testament. It has been hard work going to class nearly every morning and then another few hours with our workbook at home.

After all that, I am happy to check off my List, an entry that has been nagging me for a while, "to learn a new language". But it was more than just checking off an entry on a list. (Or completing a degree requirement.) Our teacher has encouraged us throughout the "year" (the usual amount of time these courses are taken) on focusing on the greater Goal- to know God, to appreciate the beauty of His Word, to understand His wisdom, and to richly experience the gifts He has given in those pages.

Now I can translate some passages with ease and read without having to stop too much. I have even done some devotional reading in Greek which was rewarding. I also have a much improved English grammar and better study habits. Best of all, to know that I have learned something new, a skill I can apply, hone and master, is very fulfilling. I have not challenged my brain muscles like this in a long time. It is reassuring to know that it still somehow works, even after years of numbing subsistence-level activity (of the "buy-low, sell-high"-kind).

If only my fingers would cooperate as I pick up guitar-playing ... ... ... again ;-)

Where Were You When the Earthquake Hit?

2008-07-30T18:33:00.000-07:00

My class this morning started with the question, "Where were you when the earthquake hit?". Happy to report to my teacher, especially being this close to Final Exams, that I was working on my Greek workbook ;-) Geek! The rest of the class had more interesting things to say---

"I was asleep"

"I was driving on the freeway"

"I was having lunch with a Structural Engineer who comforted me that it will be okay as the restaurant building is post-1961"

"I was minding my own business"

It was no where near catastrophe but it lasted a few seconds beyond my comfort zone. I felt rolling sound under our house and then everything shook. A Japanese wooden doll fell off my bookcase and I held our flat screen tv steady. My sister-in-law was trying to put my toddler nephew to sleep. If you know him, you know that not even an earthquake will scare him to take a nap, he does not like down time from playing. If you know him, you know that he can do much bigger mess and damage than this 5.4 on the Scale.

We watched the news for a bit to see more interesting answer to "Where were you when the earthquake hit?". An earthquake expert from CalTech was holding a press conference with much competence and confidence. Such a specific area to be an expert in, it happens rarely and if it were any greater than what we had, such a press conference may not be in order. Yes, this was her chance to shine and she treated it like a debut performance nominated to the Oscars on the red carpet.

A few aftershocks more and then I went back to translating the Greek New Testament. No need to rush to "eskatos" (Greek font not loaded on Google) just yet...

Superhero Weekend

2008-07-26T21:47:00.000-07:00

I saw two movies this weekend. That has not happened since I lived in Singapore where I averaged 1.5 to 3 times per week in the movie theatre. (When it is 35 celsius all-year-round with not much to do, and the movie theatre is 4 minutes walk away, you will understand.)

I finally managed to see "The Incredible Hulk" on a big screen... even when I had to go to the $2.00 theatre next to the supermarket. I am a Marvel fan and I do admit to having a little crush on Edward Norton, so I just had to see it. (The gratuitous naked scene in the bath tub aside.)

Clocking under 2 hours with action scenes every 15 minutes, The Hulk delivered. I was not expecting an Oscar-winning performance nor was I hoping to inspire the hero in me, so I thought it was good. Even the CGI rendering was very believable.

I especially enjoyed the snippets of humor that distracted us from the green-side of anger... Lou Ferigno as a security guard? That was hilarious. "You do not want me hungry" (in Portuguese)... my hero! Tell them, Hulk!

As if I did not have enough of conflicted heroes engaged in explosive confrontation amidst city traffic, I made my way to the theatres again and saw "The Dark Knight". ($10.50?!?! are they charging movie-goers the Batmobile gas?)

The latest Batman flick is close to my heart because I am excited to see the bits they shot last year in Hong Kong. For a week there was an announcement in my office building for possible disturbances, etc due to filming of a big Hollywood film. For a week we see and hear helicopters circling our office tower, Two IFC, taking aerial shots of Hong Kong's famous skyline. Each time the helicopter comes close to our windows, my colleague and I would scream, wave, yell in vain hopes of getting into the film. Rumors of Christian Bale shooting in our tower would circulate intermittently. Walking home on the Mid-Levels escalator, we would see loads of movie-making equipment and loads of extras piled in rows.

With all the hype, I would have thought at least 5% of the 2.5 hour film will be in HK. I was mildly surprised to find out that it was probably just 2 minutes or so. It kinda gave me a glimpse of how much time, money and effort goes into those big Hollywood films. One week of shooting on location is equivalent to 2 minutes.

I have to admit, the aerial shots of Hong Kong were well-done. The panned shots approaching the office towers were great. If you look really really, really hard, you might just see me on the UBS trading floor. (It's a superhero movie, use your imagination!)

Seeing the familiar sites of central Hong Kong made me wistful. I miss movie nights with my friends which can easily be turned into dinner-drinks gala or a karaoke theme party with full documentation in 10 megapixels.

If I have superpowers right now, I would just fly to Hong Kong for the weekend and see friends... How about you? What kind of superhero are you? http:\\www.thesuperheroquiz.com

Wimbledon: Rafa Gets an "A" in Astrophysics

2008-07-06T22:34:00.001-07:00

I remember last year's Wimbledon Men's Championship very well. I was living in Hong Kong where tennis is well-loved. Especially the Wimbledon, being a former colony and all. However, following it in Asia means that the live telecast is shown late at night. In the case of the 2007 championship match it went on till the early hours of the next day. I went to work on the same morning feeling perhaps like Rafa Nadal, a bit beleaguered with only a couple of hours of sleep. But even as this young Spaniard lost the match, I have become a fan.

With my summer classes in full throttle, I only follow the Wimbledon through ESPN news at the gym. But Greek deponent verbs did not stop me from setting my alarm to 6:00am this morning to watch the Men's Finals. I did not even hit the snooze button and the rain delay gave me time to make coffee and toast.

I prop myself in front of the TV thinking that at least in some way I am part of this history, in HDTV. Cheering on Nadal was very rewarding, he was going for EVERY point. Federer, of course, is relaxed and formidable. It was really tough not to applaud the guy at many points in the match.

Rafa Nadal emerged as the champion. More than four hours of high calibre tennis, two titans of the game, only one victorious. I nearly lost heart on the fifth set, but good thing Nadal didn't. The stats and plays of this match demonstrates his exceptional performance. But what really make me root for him is how much he has improved and worked on his game compared to even just last year's match.

I once had a teacher in college (subject was Astrophysics, if you must know; extra points for "when" that was) who gave grades not according to your test scores but according to how you improved for the semester, i.e. the slope of the curve of your test scores. If Rafa Nadal is in my class (yes, he would have been born then, okay!) he would have gotten an "A".

While I am certain that Rafa Nadal will put an "A" in Astrophysics in his to-do-list along side with the US Open championship, right now I am sure he is just delirious about his Wimbledon win. So here's one to you, Rafa ... "Felicitaciones!"

Fun In Greek Class: You (Don't) Make Me Feel So Young

2008-06-23T12:24:00.000-07:00

I am enrolled in Elementary Greek class right now. The first order of class is to learn the alphabet and identify the vowels. It was an interesting experience. It made me feel so young, not in a sense that I look like a college kid when I am close to 40, but really young. Like kindergarden.

It was fun to learn a new alphabet, learn to say it aloud, and of course, practice by writing names of people I know.

Most of my classmates are undergrad students from Biola. Sitting with them in class made me realize that at that age, minus the wear and tear called "life", you still have a lot of brain cells working for you. Each day we read aloud and do our translations, they breeze through the workbook while I read out in pause forward as they cringe.

One morning (and this is a 7:30am class), I walked into our classroom which was abuzz. Dr. Klink is telling some folks in front that he is old, he is 33. Huh? I told him I was 37. Pandemonium broke. I thought my seat mate, Jake, was going to have an embolism.

"Man, you are 37?"

(Yeah)

"Dude, I can't believe that."

(You want to see an ID?)

"Wow, you grew up in the 70s!"

(Height-wise, I am still waiting)

"Dude, you can be my mother. Do you know that?"

(Dude and mother in the same sentence... just what kind of language class is this?)

Then he tossed my driver's license back to me and said with some finality...

"That is a fake ID."

(Kids.)

A Boston Celtics Fan in L.A.

2008-06-17T20:57:00.000-07:00

Boston Massacre: Celtics Snags 17th Title Over Lakers with 39 Point Margin

It was the NBA Finals, the city of Los Angeles along with the rest of California is painted gold (ehem, that is yellow!) and violet (or is it lavander?).

Lakers car drivers (those who has the flag near their headlights) will make a knowing eye contact on a red light as if saying "Go, Lakers!" At the supermarket counter, the person who bags your groceries does it to the rhythm of "Let's go, Lakers, let's go". The one that really crosses the line are those "outfits" in the traditional, and somewhat unflattering, Lakers colors. Meanwhile, I go about my business thinking, the Celtics is so much of a better team. The old Celtics vs Lakers rivalry is re-ignited.

The result of the Finals, not just the 39-point clincher, but all the stats and plays tells that the Celtics is the demonstrably better team. I love basketball, it is a true team sports. I was never a fan of a superstar-plus-four-other-guys teams. Kobe Bryant is a phenomenal player, but when the main goal is "Get the ball to Kobe, he'll know what to do", it gets old.

The Lakers' weakness aside, the Boston Celtics is one of the best teams the NBA has seen in a long time. They have recaptured the Celtic Pride. The legend list is long: most number of championship crown in the NBA, best defensive team, highest clincher margin in the finals, best comeback from previous conference's low, record comeback from 24-point deficit in a Finals game, etc. Take your pick. But as a Celtics fan, I am just proud of their teamwork and their relentless determination to win. (Seriously, how can you give up on the third quarter of a 3-2 Finals game?)

The Boston Celtics showed us how it is done.

It is always a bit of a let down when the a sports season is over. But the tales of this NBA 2007-2008 Season will carry me through the next. Who knows, with the Celtics making the NBA relevant again, I may even watch a lot of those elimination round games ;-)

Myers School Lounge

2008-06-15T16:21:00.000-07:00

lounge |lounj| verb [intrans.] lie, sit, or stand in a relaxed or lazy way;

This is me at the Myers Student Lounge. Though the above definition is correct, it should be added that this lounge is actually a place to cram for exams, last minute memorization and informal study groups. Even when that involves taking pictures off your Macbook (in this case, Timmery's).

I am on a summer break, and I miss school. (Spoken like a true geek.) I miss the intellectual activity, the interaction, the provocation of ideas and ideals. I miss the discipline imposed by deadlines and schedules. These past few weeks, all I seem to do is lie, sit or stand in a relaxed or lazy way.

Thankfully, I am back to The Lounge next week. I am taking Greek I and Greek II this summer. I bought books from the school bookstore this week. The guy at the counter, surmising what the books are for, quipped- "You're taking the rapid-fire crash course Greek?"

Yes, and I bet the first verb that I would learn is not "lounge".

Surreal Santa Barbara

2008-06-12T11:38:00.000-07:00

Some weeks (maybe even months now), my family and I took a weekend trip to Santa Barbara. It is a coastal community north of L.A. known for its fabulous vistas and famous residents (temporary or otherwise).

The Wharf area is manicured and pristine. There is a tourist trolley that ferries people to downtown. Downtown is quaint and charming. Familiar franchised establishments are housed in old brick buildings punctuated by family-owned restaurants and local curios shops. People are well-tanned and impeccably dressed. The local daily must have run a memo that today is "nautical look day", and plenty of people obliged.

It is beginning to feel like a movie set (like those you find in the Universal Studios lot) except that half of the people around me are either tourists or "commoners" from the nearby towns. But whatever small population Santa Barbara has, it is well-heeled enough to support a Christie's Auction House and a branch of Merrill Lynch.

We spent some time at the City Court House which is a beautiful Spanish-style structure decorated in eclectic mix of European, Moroccan, etc. It holds much of the city's history as well as important artwork. We had a great volunteer guide who clearly loves showing-off a beautiful part of his city's heritage, now preserved by the Federal government.

We also visited the huge Catholic Mission Cathedral sitting on prime land with expansive grounds that included a colorful rose garden in full bloom. Around the bend is a "scenic route" which winds down the hill, showing off views of the ocean. From here we headed off to Malibu on our way back to the more down-to-earth La Mirada.

Indiana Jones 5: The Search for the Missing Bonita Falls

2008-06-10T14:16:00.000-07:00

I am an "Indiana Jones" fan. I have "Raiders of the Lost Ark" in VHS, "The Last Crusade" in VCD, and casting all hopes for another adventure with my generation's favorite professor... I bought the DVD boxed set for the three episodes. Needless to say, I was excited to see "Indiana Jones 4" especially when even old folks like me can rally behind the new Jones explorer- Shia (I can not spell his last name)- barely compensating, of course, for the lack of Sean Connery. Saw the flick, was miserably disappointed.

The thing is, the map from the San Bernardino National Forest showing the location of Bonita Falls is far more imaginative than Indiana Jones 4. I pride myself for not only being an Indy-fan but for being a hiker with reasonable map-reading skills. The hot pink flyer (the color should already put us off) clearly state: past the Green Mountain Ranch sign cross the bridge, turn right along the creek, then follow the wash and the Bonita Falls will show up on our left. Armed with this map, we left Smokey Bear at the Ranger Station humming the theme of Indiana Jones in my head, looking forward to see Bonita Falls.

We parked near the Green Mountain Ranch sign, took pictures of the Creek, touched its cool waters even as dozens of picnic-goers lounge on the banks. We proceeded to follow the map crossed the bridge, looking for a place to turn right. Maybe because we were the only ones dressed for a hike and the only ones without picnic gear but we surely stood out. Maybe because we are lost.

An employee from the Ranch approached us to give us directions. "I saw the two of you walking around," he told us we were on the wrong place. The soundtrack in my mind crashed. "It is a bit further down, you can't miss it". Off we go. We drove around the Creek at least twice, ended up in a picnic ground where there are Forest Volunteers on break. Once again, in a very un-Indy-like manner, we asked for directions. "You just went past it, follow the wash in the canyon, you can't miss it." Really?

We headed back the same way. It was beginning to feel like a Quentin Tarantino film rather than Indiana Jones. We headed for a large path beyond the creek filled with rocks... yes, only rocks. No one in sight and nor does it seem like there is a Falls anywhere near. Ching and I wondered just what it is that we can not miss.

We were about to turn around (again) when a family of 12 appeared from nowhere. We asked if they just came from the Falls. "Yes, but it is really, really far." About an hour from here? "No, twenty minutes. Just follow that path, you can't miss it." If you say so.

There we go again. We walked for about half an hour. We figured the shallow (nearly dried water) perpendicular to the Creek is actually the famed "Wash". We nearly went past the sign pointing to the upward path to the Falls. It was not much of a sign, it was a graffiti board. Once again, almost ready to give up on this path, we saw a few people with children coming down. "Have you been to the Falls?" we asked. "Yes, there is a path, you can't miss it." Uh-huh.

Are we getting the point? After one more dead end, we finally arrived to see Bonita Falls. From our vantage point, we can see about 3 feet of it. No wonder the "wash" is nearly dried. They should call it Chiquita Falls. We took a couple of photos and headed down. At least we found it, even though, just like with Indiana Jones 4 we were disappointed.

Parting Shot: As we were walking back to the car, crossing the creek, a boy who was part of the family who gave us directions asked me, "Did you see the Falls?" I said, yes, but it was small and a bit disappointing. He looked at me funny. It is tall and big, you just got to climb up a bit more... Duh!

Indiana Jones theme please... tan tannan tan, tan tanan, ta-nan, ta-nan... roll credits... We are ready for Part 6 ;-)

Bodyworlds Exhibit

2008-05-02T22:18:00.001-07:00

On the same day we went to Griffith Park and hiked the Mount Hollywood trail, Ching and I visited the California Science Center located at the Exposition Park in Los Angeles. This is in the same location as the Stadium used in the 1984 Summer Olympics hosted by the city.

We saw the much talked about Bodyworlds, "an exhibition of real human bodies", which has raised issues of ethics, sensibility, censorship and whatever else the US Presidential Campaign may have missed. This controversy was discussed immediately at the door with some assurance from the State of California that they have weighed these issues along with the documentation and authentication from the proponents of the Exhibit and deemed that it is a viable scientific endeavor notwithstanding.

Trusting the State's judgement on this, we walked in to the "The Story of the Heart" and took our time through the 200+ real human specimens before us. The overall atmosphere of the Exhibit was just that, these are specimens. It did not really trigger thoughts that these were people who had families and lived a purposeful life before plastination. It was a curious scientific display with clear attempts to artistry.

One does not really know what to expect from human bodies cut up with surgical precision, but what could you find inside? Not to defeat the purpose of the Exhibit, but the displays do not really show anything different from those glossy medical books. What I thought was most beneficial are the 'warnings', not subtly illustrated, about taking care of our bodies against pollution, abuse or neglect. What is truly fascinating is the process of plastination itself which takes enormous time and resources to do, and a real collaboration of art and science.

Stop-Look-Listen: the display of fetal development from one week to near birth, amazing to see how a half-inch two week old fetus is a real person; the darkening of the lungs caused by smoking and pollution (gulp, as a former Hong Kong resident for years I got worried); how fat cells permeates both inside and outside your organs.

A curious end to the Exhibit is a station where you can fill out legal forms in case you want to donate your body to plastination. Do I really want my cadaver in an enclosed glass with a sign that says "A Full-Grown Adult of South Asian Origin. This is not a scale model"? No, thanks.

That Hollywood Sign

2008-05-02T21:12:00.000-07:00

Like every tourist to California, I have a picture next to the Hollywood sign. (As they say in Hollywood, the camera adds 14 pounds. Where did that second chin come from? It is bigger than the sign!)

This mandatory photo opportunity is courtesy of a visit to the Griffith Observatory Park and a short hike up the Mount Hollywood trail. Documentary proof of that is added below to redeem myself from a tourist cliche. One must always be a traveller, not a tourist. How's that for profound? Plus, I look slimmer on the other photos ;-) Wow, that sign really messes up with your mind, huh?

Ching and I took a short hike up the Mount Hollywood trail in Griffith Park. There are a few trails in the vicinity of the Hollywood sign but we chose this one that goes to the "summit" where there was a small picnic ground. It was a hot day in the 90s with absolutely no shade. The view from the hill was refreshing though we were also on a look-out for celebrities jogging on the trail. We probably need to watch more tv and read more tabloids in order to actually identify them.

But we did spot a movie star and icon...

The Griffith Observatory, named after the Los Ageles philanthropist Griffith J. Griffith, "is a cultural and scientific icon" that houses a telescope, other astronomical instruments and various displays relating to astronomy. My favorite part is the "Foucault Pendulum" which proves by its tilting that the earth rotates on its axis. (How bored do you need to be to experiment on that?) An interesting monument to James Dean is found on the Observatory grounds to commemorate the Observatory's appearance in the movie "Rebel Without a Cause".

We did not get an autograph from the Observatory but we will come back to see the stars... literally.

Where the Streets Have No Name

2008-04-26T07:56:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, Ching and I drove (more accurately, she drove, I fiddled with the map) to the Joshua Tree National Park here in Southern California.

It was an interesting drive through the San Bernardino mountain range, just missing Palm Springs into a sleepy town with a few provision shops, gas stations and the like. This is the kind of place where "How How Chinese Restaurant" stands out, but then again, which place isn't?

We arrived at our destination and was greeted by a Park Ranger who gave us a map and adviced us of the day's itinerary. Basically, the park was a desert plain punctuated by wild flowers (thanks to the recent winter rain), cacti and the famous Joshua trees. It was like walking into a U2 album cover. Joshua Tree was the Grammy Album of the Year in 1988, but what U2 fans probably do not know is that these yuccan trees are native to the southwestern North America and was named after the Biblical character who raised his hands to the sky to stop the sun at God's command. The trees are shaped like a man with his arms up in the sky. At 90 degrees and no shade, I had my arms up as well.

We drove around streets with no names to see various points of interest. We stopped at Skull Rocks and took pictures of those huge boulders naturally shaped like human skulls. We checked out the panoramic view from Keys Point showing San Bernardino county with the border of Mexico beyond. We took a short hike at Hidden Valley and saw typical rock formation and flora of the area. Everywhere, there are Joshua trees of different sizes.

It was an enjoyable "green" day as we commune with nature in the Joshua Tree Park, then come back to La Mirada with a county-wide "blackout" in progress that lasted till midnight. Apparently, the first "air con"-day of the year caused an overload on the generator system. We had a candle-lit dinner and gone to a tv-less sleep, just like the overnight campers in the park ;-)

Biking Along the Beach

2008-03-29T10:04:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, Ching took me to the South Bay Bicycle trail. We biked from her apartment near Torrance Beach all the way to the Santa Monica Pier. It was a brisk 42 mile tour (two-way) that was certainly enjoyable and rewarding.

The Pacific Ocean, with its creamy sand beaches and its quiet but powerful sound guided us all the way. Blue ocean water, blue skies and colorful sights all along the way.

At the Redondo Pier, a jazz band is already calling people to a Sunday brunch. Children learning to ride bikes, couples on roller blades, runners of all kinds, and the typical collage of beach-goers lined up The Strand all the way to Manhattan Beach. This famous address close to the LAX is lined up with modern (and not so modern) apartments with tall, tall windows and balconies showcasing the Ocean. Yuppies abound. (do they still use that word? or are they all in suburban PTA meetings right now?)

Around the corner is the desolate El Porto Beach where there is huge RV parking lot, interestingly, most of them have California plates. In Dockweiler Beach, hand glider lessons are offered to the brave. We watched a few attempts for a bit and decided that the bicycle is the way to go on this beach.

Next stop is the notorious Venice Beach. For a moment as we were approaching this beach, scenes from tv shows or movies with the camera panning on the view for a few seconds before showing a dead body found in nearby condominium flashed through my head. (I have been watching way too much re-runs on A&E!) Enough crime shows, now back to reality.

We stopped at Venice Beach to check out the market. Merchandise from all over the world of the flea-market-slash-tourist-trap kind is up for sale. However, Tatoos - permanent, henna, organic, traditional, and what have you, is the main "local produce". We resisted the urge to shop and just watched the street performers.

A father and son / daughter (?) of Eastern European decent is working on a contortionist act to a song of Enya. The real crowd drawer is the Brazilian Tumblers performing acrobatic-type of dance and witty politically incorrect comedy to entertain the audience. ("Children, don't be afraid of us, be afraid of drugs, be afraid of alcohol, be afraid of Michael Jackson...")

Alas we reached Santa Monica Pier with its famous ferris wheel and boardwalk. Throngs of tourists line up to eat at Bubba Gump (of course) and try out cotton candy and corn dogs. But right next to the pier are hundreds of white crosses stuck on the beach sand, representing those who died in Iraq. A somber reminder that even when life is like a beach in California, there is a reality out there that is quite apart from it.

We went on the same trail back and reached Redondo at tea time. Ching treated me to the best churros in California, which was definitely at par with those in Madrid. I took one more look the Ocean and headed back for her place on our bikes. It was a wonderful day, and the best part is, we get to go back...

... yesterday, we did =). Thanks again, Ching!

Home in a Box... or Two (or 129!)

2008-03-18T17:31:00.000-07:00

Because I just had a mid-term exam, I think it is only fair that I give you one.

WHAT DOES THIS PICTURE REPRESENT?

(a) "Life After Backstreet Boys" (or is it Milli Vanilli?)

(b) "All of My Earthly Possessions"

(d) All of the above

(e) None of the above The answer, of course, is (b) "All of my Earthly Possessions". You are looking at the team of movers (hurrying up for their tee time ... ehem, that is California for you!) unloading and unpacking all my "stuff" from Hong Kong, junk and all.

We moved in this Friday into a rental house in one of the Top 10 zip codes in the United States in terms of safety, the sanguine 90638. No tv series bearing the same name but assuredly a step up from renting a room and sharing a bed with my sister =)

We spent the last three days unpacking (in a literal sense, not the favorite verb amongst preachers explaining a passage from the Bible). There is a lot to be said for opening those boxes and sorting through memories. It is like instant home in a box.

But if there is anything that the last three months of living off a suitcase and trying to get set up in a new city has taught me, it is that "home" is not a place. It is not even here.

Hope you get to visit!

I Drive, Therefore, I am

2008-03-04T20:53:00.000-08:00

I have no doubt in my mind that if Rene Descartes is living in California right now (errr, probably not surfing) he will be restating his earlier position on the philosophy of man.

In the land where people readily identify where the 55 goes and where it connects with the 2, where public buses runs every thirty minutes if you are lucky, where people drive within the parking lot to move from the bank to Starbucks, Mr. Descartes would certainly conclude- "I drive, therefore, I am".

After a few trips to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) along with the hordes of 16-year old pilgrims in the ultimate American right of passage, the State of California has finally given me the license to drive. If you have lived in the US, you know that this "is" the main identity in more ways than one.

So here it is, the precious 2x3 plastic that above anything else in my wallet right now is... p r i c e l e s s.

My Former Life

2008-02-20T19:39:00.000-08:00

They All Come to California

2008-02-16T22:36:00.001-08:00

What does 10% of the world's billionaires have in common? They live in California. Though I am not elevating myself in that company, it is certainly good to know that people who can afford to live anywhere in this planet and possibly beyond have chosen to stay in this beautiful state.

But before the Google boys and the rest of the dot.com boom-ers expanded the Forbes list by a factor (maybe even more after the bust) there was the era of old school billionaires like J. Paul Getty (who warned you that "a billion is not like what it used to be"). He is the patron of the relatively new museum carrying his name and his important art and antiquity collection.

Ching brought me to the Getty Center at the foot of Santa Monica Hills last weekend. It was such a treat on a sunny California "winter" day. Indoors I enjoyed the array of Impressionist paintings, including this sweet courtship scene from Renoir. But the true beauty of the museum is in its timeless architecture, beautiful landscape and the spectacular view from the hills. Competing with the paintings of Van Goh and Sisley is the panorama of down town Los Angeles all the way to the Pacific Ocean, with the ever-interesting 405 in the foreground. A busy highway of one straight line across the state. Bumper to bumper as usual, throngs of people on their purposeful way somewhere...

and they all come to California.

Running Season

2008-02-13T20:17:00.000-08:00

October 21, 2007

In Hong Kong, temperature has dropped down, humidity eased up and there is a pleasant cool breeze when I get out of my apartment building. Running weather is here, and today, I did my first run of the season. Jogging through Bowen Road, taking in the sights of this busy bustling city, took me back to more than a decade ago when I first took up running and when I first really enjoyed living here.

Some of you may know, I am leaving soon. This running season will take me to a long journey from Hong Kong to California. I am keen to run on Bowen Road on Saturday mornings listening to a podcast sermon on my iPod and by January take jogs along the coast of the Pacific Ocean in one of the beaches of Orange County.

I have been accepted to Biola University (Talbot School of Theology) where I would pursue a Master of Arts degree in Biblical Exposition for two years. It is located in a small university town called La Mirada which is in the border of Los Angeles and Orange County.

I am truly looking forward to this new season in my life. I have so much hope for rest and renewal. Though perhaps a bit shorter than Alan Greenspan's stint as Federal Reserve Chairman, my long career of being a Trader has blessed me in ways that is beyond my imagination and counting. It has also taken me through a few financial crisis, but more importantly, several personal crisis worthy of Mr. Greenspan's memoir title- "The Age of Turbulence". I am looking forward to a quiet, slow paced life in Southern California where there is plenty of space and sunshine. Two years of feeding on Scriptures and like-minded fellowship, and live in a city where I have family.

"After that?", some of you have asked. I give an uncharacteristic, "I don't know". I am giving up a full, if not lucrative life here in Hong Kong, for the option of not knowing. I am entering a period of learning and yet a season of not knowing. I do not know what it is like not to have a good job and a great pay. I do not know what it is like not to have the stress that comes from keeping that job. I do not know what it is like without the company of friends you know for so long and fellowship that is so available.

But I do not mind not knowing, and perhaps only then I can do some discovering. After prayerfully considering what God has allowed to happen in my life, what He has given me, and trusting Him in faith that He will be with me... I am running. "He knows".

Where Are The Library Nazis?

2008-02-12T19:22:00.000-08:00

Because I have not been in school for almost two decades, you are going to hear about comparisons from what it was like attending university in the late 80s and now that I am walking down the school halls with Generation Z (hmmm, what is next?). This is one of those "ancient wisdom".

You would not be surprised to find out that I like libraries. I just love being surrounded by books and know that any one of them can take you to a different place or time, or even better, graciously show you a different point of view.

The problem is, to get to those books in my days (after the use of papyrus scrolls but before they became available in iTunes) you had to get through The Library. The privilege of the academe guarded by the champions of the bounded volumes practicing their cult in complete and utter silence.

I walked through the Biola library doors this morning with my take-away coffee cup expecting to be frisked by counter-terrorist agents who will most surely take away the illegal beverage deemed to cause the books' ultimate destruction. Guess what? They let me through!

I proceeded to the second floor. I know there are cameras everywhere, but at least you are 10 feet above the Pentagon. I looked for a place to read AND enjoy my coffee and was quickly faced with the following options: reclining chairs, sofas and bean bags, in the hallway, the patio outside, by the window, etc. What happened to the stiff chairs that has automatic eject system triggered by decibel limits? Well, they still have those chairs and tables but they are equipped with power outlets, lamps and multi-ports.

Someone must be slacking at the doors because now the library has been infiltrated by lap top computers, iPods, and even cellular phones being used (considerately) in the vicinity of those precious books without the constant badgering of "Silence Puh-leese".

Alas, I propped myself on a La-Z-boy, read my book, sip my coffee and enjoy this wonderful new freedom.

Safe in Bastille

2008-02-10T14:35:00.000-08:00

WAY BACK WHEN: Flashbacks before it was called BLOG

I am staying in the area called Marais in Paris near the Place du Bastille, the site of the old prison that was torn down in the famous revolt.

It is a very nice middle class area and one of the most historical parts of the city. I am walking distance to several museums, including the freebies- Musee d' Victor Hugo and Musee Carnavalet (which is about Paris' history). A stone throw away is the beautiful garden Place de Vosges.

Several cafes, bistros, patisseries, and what not lines the avenues and streets. Other amenities includes supermache, paper stands, travel agents and this internet shop. I like going back at the end of each day and see the real Parisian life after hours of sightseeing and being surrounded by tourists.

Evidently, this is also the 'gay' district as can be observed through my hotel's occupants. The women look like they just got off a Harley Davidson bike (even at the breakfast table) and the men have color-coordinated clothes with perfume that I can smell from my room. Both camps are clearly not interested in me. So there you go, safe in Bastille.

The only hints of danger perhaps is the motorcycle repair shop next door and at least three tatoo parlors I pass on the way to the hotel. But I guess they quickly figure out I am not a a customer.

Superbowl XLII

2008-02-10T13:59:00.000-08:00

I have just moved to the US with some moderate interest in American sports. I know enough to know that football is not soccer, that you need some basic arithmetic involving non-metric distances and that Superbowl is huge! (At least I was not like my sister who asked "so, is this the last day of football?" like it is some dreadful deadline.)

On February 3, 2008, I joined millions of Americans and propped myself in front of a wide screen tv (which they adored as much as football itself) and watched in awe. The thrilling football championship game was between the New York Giants and the "un-defeated" New England Patriots. Because I love underdogs (12-1 odds against the Giants on this game), I rooted for New York and the over-scrutinize 27-year old quarterback Eli Manning.

The New York Giants captured the Superbowl by scoring a touchdown from 83 yards in 12 plays and less than two minutes. This one is definitely for the DVD and so I will let you see for yourself. My favorite moment of the game, however, despite the many replays you are going to see on ESPN, is to see how happy Peyton Manning (last year's Superbowl MVP) was to see his "little" brother win. I am surrounded by my younger siblings here in the US, and each time I see them step out and be the better person they strive to be, I am most gratified... Not exactly something you will see in a well-lit stadium, but certainly a sentiment worth noting.

So here's one for Sibling Superbowl, and other American greats ...

Boo hoo hoo ...

2008-02-09T23:48:00.000-08:00

It may not look it, but I am missing all of you,

Here I am at the Pacific Coast Highway near Redondo Beach where we walked to see the sunset. The day was crisp 16C with blue skies but at night the California winter obliges with a bit of a chill.

... still trying to adjust to my new home.

The First Day of School

2008-02-09T10:25:00.000-08:00

Monday was the first day of school since, errr... 1991. Inquiring minds want to know if it has changed much in 17 years, especially my contemporaries who were last seen on campus in their torn faded jeans, white tshirt and Dragonfly badminton shoes with Trapper Keepers on tow.

With my God-given "University-Look" (18-28 years old) and my bona fide ID (who's Maria Guevarra !#@?), I disappeared in the crowd and investigated.

They have not changed...

... the dress code, but you wear Uggs instead of badminton shoes

... the roll calls that begs the coolest response you can make in your three seconds of fame (ooops, too late!)

... those school desks which are still too high for my feet to be on the ground (literally, of course)

... the mandatory bored look when the professor confess to having taught only two classes previously

... cafeteria filled with brain food like pizza, chicken pot pie and burgers

What you did not know...

... is that the university is brimmed with Korean students that one of the professors I talked to referred to it as "West Korea"

... is that due to digital photography, it is now conventional for professors to start the class with pictures of their grand children

... is that I can actually sit through 3 hours of lecture and not fidget or belch (well, maybe a little)