No words necessary

Wow!

14 July

On Bastille Day I found myself a delightful voyeur at the French Embassy in Washington, DC. Although I was with a large group of friends, I was rather detached and busied myself with absorbing all the colors; there were so much to take in, the history of 14 July, La Marseillaise, and all the cheese, pâté, wine, champagne, music, and dancing!

On events like this I often find myself conflicted; do I let go, have fun, and be with friends or focus on taking photos? Not that I take great pictures, but to document my experiences, I often find myself stepping back and removing myself from the event and location. It is as if I am looking at what is happening through a frame or a television rather than experiencing it myself. I didn't have a camera on Bastille Day, but I wanted to record everything in my head.

Changes in my South America plan: maybe/probably

Dad's condition is getting worse and he is now in the hospital to receive further treatment. I can't imagine how much physical and mental stress mother is going through taking care of a man who haven't quite cared for her during the past 10-15 years.

I feel very selfish about thinking about revising my plans for South American travels while my parents are going through the toughest challenge of their lives. But the reality of the matter is forcing me to delay my departure and probably changed the entire nature of my planned stay in Argentina. Rather than basing myself in Buenos Aires, enrolling in a Spanish language school, and traveling a week or two out of each month, I will have a much shorter time in South America and will have to decide how to reformat my travels. Perhaps I will content myself with two, maybe three months and simply travel by bus to see the continent. Also - an invitation from my new-found friend Eduardo from Medellín is tempting me to visit Colombia.

On another note, I heard this poem on the Writer's Almanac podcast and couldn't help but giggle the whole way home while stumbling from the bar the other night.

H2O

What is the difference between club soda and seltzer water?

A small victory and the white elephant

I was elated when I emerged from a nearby bookstore last night. I picked up a copy of Writing New York for half price!

On the other hand, I had the most difficult conversation of my life with dad. Knowing that I would eventually have to discuss with him his pending departure, I made my way home in fear the oncoming conversation. It took a great deal of strength just for me to power up the PC and dial dad on Skype. While he was happy to see me on video conference, I sensed that dad hadn't the stomach to discuss his final options. My attempts to engage him on the matter resulted in failure.

The conversation everybody knows we must have remains unsaid.

Dancing with a butterfly

It was a weekend of fear management.

As I woke up on a warm Sunday morning on the Appalachian Trail (AT), I faced 14 miles of walking in 98F heat, and blisters the size of small grapes on both my feet. I was not looking forward to hiking my way out of the mountains. But the weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains was difficult in more ways than my physical challenges.

Although I have expected the eventual end to dad’s predicament, my Friday night call with mother filled me with fear. More than my fear of dad’s expected passing, I fear for his comfort during his last days. But most of all (perhaps selfishly), I fear for my ability to make the right decisions. As he nears his end, we are faced with a most difficult final question; should we shorten the process and let dad go peacefully, or prolong the inevitable and spend limited resources for medical procedures that will briefly extend his life without addressing the core issue? What is a son to do when faced with these questions? These thoughts stayed on my mind all weekend.

We started our walk at VA-605 Saturday morning and planned on arriving at Harpers Ferry Sunday afternoon. By all measures, it was an ambitious goal. The portion of the AT we targeted is known as the “rollercoaster.” During our first 11 miles, the pace was slow as we fought the heat, the hills, our 50 lbs rucksacks, and ourselves. The landscape was a constant 1,000 ft up, and 1,000 ft down. Each step forward and upward was about conquering the fear of pain. It wasn’t so much the hurt that bothered me, but the anticipation of it. It was quite intimidating to descend 1,000 ft knowing that another 1,000 ft steep ascend was already staring me right in the face. It was a long day’s work and I enjoyed and hated every second of it.

However, rather than driving the demon out of my mind, the more I tried to focus on the trail, the more I thought about mother and dad. As I struggled to find the strength to fight that mountain, I could not but think about what the right decision is for dad.

The 2.5 miles downhill hike on the Ridge to River Trail was the longest walk in my memory. Looking at the topo map, we assumed that it would be well-worth the effort to get off the AT and camp by the Shenandoah River. Images of jumping into the water to cool off drove us forward. However, the mountain and the heat took a great deal of our energy and left our legs and hearts weak. While the S. River site was already taken when we got there, I could not have been happier to make camp by Sand Spring, dunk myself in the ice cold water, and enjoy the simple pleasures of food and relaxation before quickly falling asleep.

Day two was tougher than day one. With my blistering feet, I could no longer move quickly. Advising my hiking partner to move ahead to meet our ride without me, I was left to walk at my own pace. Having gained my solitude, I also earned the pleasure of monopolizing my own pains. Somewhere along the way at approximately 3 miles from our predetermined meeting spot, a butterfly with black and teal wings playfully danced around me, willing me forward for the next few miles home.

The AT always does wonders for me. It is a beautiful and challenging place that always gives me space to reflect and come away a different and hopefully better person. While I still question myself about my decision, I have my answer.

Thoughts about home: if there is one

Reading Ahmad Fadam's blog entry on leaving Baghdad in the New York Times made me pause in the middle of the work day. While I will never know (I hope) the feeling of being forced out of my homeland, I read Fadam's words carefully and contemplated what it means to leave the land where your father and mother are buried. Recently, as my father's condition worsens and I face the reality that he will soon be gone, I am awashed with feelings for this man I never really knew. What would it be like to share those moments of joy with a father who was a father? Dad tried. But the most he did was he showered me with gifts. I suppose that was the only way he knew how to be a father.

But to get back to Fadam's blog, the reason it made me think is because I've been considering how best to take care of dad after his passing. Dad would probably want to remain in Taiwan and rest with grandpa and grandma. But how can I leave dad in a land I will probably never go back to? Thus, the answer is to bring him back to the States even though I am considering leaving the U.S. not to return to live again.

As I prepare to leave for Argentina next January, I know I will return to the States to visit family and friends. But I ask myself repeatedly if I really want to return to live in the U.S. again.? Aside from friends I would trust my life with, joys of lazy summer days watching baseball, being an insomniac in New York City, I don't feel very American. Although I am happy I'm here rather than Taiwan, part of me regret my forced migration to Los Angeles during my youth. Whoever asked me if I wanted to come? Certainly not my parents.

In America, I have so many demons I prefer not to face. Who knows? Maybe being a stranger in a foreign land will change my mind.

Bad news

I just got words from mom last night. Dad's brain tumor is growing again. It happened quite suddenly. In the course of last two weeks, the growth is large enough that it is affecting his neurological functions again. I'm in pain but find myself resigned to the eventual outcome.

Reconnecting with my sister, road work, and disappointment

My sister and I have never been close. For that matter, for most of my life, I've rather wished that I've no family at all. JYL and I have gone through a couple fairly rocky years. To say that we haven't talked much would be an understatement. However, since I reached out to her after her separation from her boyfriend, she has been calling me to ask for advice and just to talk. I'm not the best listener. But I hope I've been helpful to her through her painful ordeal.

She called me last night from a Feist concert in NYC. She loved the music but expressed to me that she felt very old in a crowd of 20-somethings. Goodness - I feel that way most of the time. I'm a thirty-something who hangs out with my 20-something friends all the time! I'm even keen on one of them. But if I enjoy it, why not go with it.

In preparation for Aconcagua, I've been trying to get into a fitness routine. Since my crossfit workout on Tuesday, I ran for 43 minutes last night.

In researching more about Aconcagua, I've discovered that the expedition may be beyond my financial means. Instead of my initial assumption about the trek's $1,500 - 2,000 price tag, I've learned that it will be closer to $4,000. I'm not sure I can spend that much money on a mountain.

While I'm not abandoning my idea that easily, I've been thinking about an alternative. Perhaps I can bus from Buenos Aires to Cuzco and hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu? Maybe stop along the way to sample wine in Salta and revisit San Pedro de Atacama?

Preparations for Aconcagua

Since my last post, I have identified two major issues I need to address before departing for Argentina. I need to sort out the visa situation, and I need to get to know what I'm getting myself into in Aconcagua. I haven't looked into the visa part yet, but I've done some looking into Aconcagua from books and also the American Alpine Club's web site.

Items I need to address include:

• Fitness - I need to get my cardiovascular training in. The recommendation is exercise at least 3-6 times per week. This can include regularized running or cycling, with the occasional circuit training or change from running to other exercises (like cycling, rowing, hiking). It's better if it can be done at altitude. But that is not an option for me while I am still in Washington, DC.
• Gears - I'll need more and newer gears. I am not sure if my pack will be serviceable for a 20+ day expedition that is above 5000 m. I know I will need a new sleeping bag graded for at least - 29 c. I will also need new boots, gators, new flashlight for my head, crampons, and perhaps an ice pick. I'll have to look into if I need a new tent and light weight cooking gears.
• Insurance - I need a global rescue insurance policy. I'm not sure how much this will cost. But it's likely to be expensive.
• Guide - I have no death wish. I am an amateur and will need a guide and possibly porters beyond the base camp that is situated around 4000 m. I've found out the mules don't go above Plaza Francia, the base camp. Base Camp Hostel in Mendoza runs tours and expeditions up the Acon. I'm going to give them a ring or email and see how they are. I'll probably end up staying there for my month in Mendoza anyway. I've found a couple other expedition guide service companies in Mendoza and the prices for Acon is usually around USD$1,500.00 - 2000.00.

This trip is looking more and more challenging (physically and financially). I'm assuming that I'll discover more requirements as I move forward with this project, but I've found a helpful Aconcagua expedition guide that spells out some of the training and equipment requirements for a successful ascend. I've a lot of work to do. I'm sure there will be more unforeseen expenses and other areas I need to address before having a go at Acon.

What do I want to get out of My Stay in Argentina?

Since I started reading up on Argentina in preparation for my trip there next January, I’ve been so consumed with researching points of interests, logistical questions like hostels, public transit systems, apartment rental, SIM card pricing, etc, I feel like I’m running around without a clearly defined goal for my trip.

So – I feel like I must take a step back first, reflect, and chart my course.

What do I want to get out of my stay in Argentina?
There are a lot of things I would like to experience in Argentina. However, rather than a laundry list, I am going to instead list the two broad categories I’m keen on. In some way, my experience in Argentina will revolve around these two items.

• I want to honor my father in some way. With his illness, I don’t know if he will last until my Argentine trip. While he’s not been a big part of my life thus far, he is still my father. As I was reading up on Argentina and various places I would like to visit during my stay there, it occurred to me that perhaps I can ascend Aconcagua (6962 m/22841 ft). This is a big goal. I’ll need to get fit and get organized. I’ve got a great deal of work ahead of me.
• I want to learn Spanish. Coming away with Porteño is fine. But I would like to be fluent in Castellano by the time I leave Argentina. I know that is a tall order in eight months. But I think it’s not out of my reach to leave South America with at least conversant Castellano.

Logistics
In planning for an eight month trip, logistics are important. I have several areas I still need to sort through. Some will just fall into place while others will require more effort.

• Immigration: Although I know I can enter Argentina and stay 90-days at a time as a tourist, being a gringo is expensive there. A gringo without a proper resident or student visa cannot get a DNI number (Argentine social security). Without a DNI number, one cannot open bank accounts, turn on utilities, etc. I believe I can bypass expensive ($500-700 per month) furnished apartments by renting my own apartment in Buenos Aires. But without a DNI number to turn on the power, gas, and Internet, that apartment is not very useful to me. So I am keen on finding out if I qualify for a student or 1-year residence visa in Argentina.
• Apartment: I know I will not be in BA the whole eight months. But if it is affordable enough, I would like to keep an apartment there the whole time. Aside from having a secured home base to store my belongings, I hope and expect friends to visit me in BA. Having my own apartment would make visitors more comfortable. As the whole immigration bullet point above mentioned, I can pay the gringo furnished apartment or I can rent apartments like the Argentines (reportedly $200-300 per month in one of the nicer BA neighborhoods). Guess which one I prefer.
• Mobile phone: Easy enough. I take out my T-Mobile SIM card when I get down to BA and insert a pre-paid Movistar or Vodafone SIM card. My contract with T-Mobile is up January 2009 anyway.
• Spanish language lessons: I can go about this a number of ways. The cheapest so far seem to be the courses at Universidad de Buenos Aires. It’s a fantastic public university and it’s very affordable. But I’m not sure I want to be tied down in BA eight weeks at a time. I can attend private Castellano language schools but the going rates for that seem to be $100-150 a week. That price is quite steep. Finally, I can sort out a private tutor when I land in BA. The hourly rates seem to be around AR$20-25 (USD$7-8) and would provide more flexibility. I think the language lesson issue is something I’ll have to figure out once I get to BA.
• Trekking gears: If I’m going to attempt Aconcagua, I’ll need good gears. It’ll be a 20-days trek from Mendoza and I’m not going to be cold and wet on that long of a trip.
• Fitness: I’ll need to be fit to scale the world’s second tallest peak. I’m not fit right now. I can put myself on a cardio/weight program for the next eight months, but altitude will still be an issue once I get to Mendoza. Altitude is something I have to train for. But I can’t very well deal with it while I’m living at sea level in Washington, DC.
• Plane ticket to BA: Already got it. Leaving DC on January 5, 2009.
• Plane tickets in South America: I’m considering a Mercosur air pass. But if I sort out the immigration issue and can get a DNI, I can buy flights in pesos. That means I get the local rate rather than the North American rate!
• Health Care: I can go to emergency rooms for free in Argentina. Or I can buy travelers insurance to get some proper care. I suppose an extra USD$50 per month isn't a lot. But that still comes to a few hundred dollars for my entire trip.
  
• Bus: Busing is easy in Argentina and Chile. Show up at the bus stations and buy tickets 1hr to 3 days before departure. These buses are Brazilian models designed for long hauls and they’re comfortable (relatively speaking). Some even serve meals! I was on quite a few of these buses during my 2001 Chilean trip. I imaging I’ll be on a couple 24-hour long bus rides when I’m in Argentina

I can keep going with a laundry list. But I think I’ll stop here and process the information a bit. I know nobody reads this blog and updating it is more for my personal pleasure, but if anyone come across this entry and can further suggest other questions I should be asking in preparation for my travels, please open up.

Stateside

I'm back in DC. Had a wonderful night at the Doha Ritz and flew back on Qatar Air. 15 hours airborne and sitting at Solly's right now for a couple PBRs and some Chinese takeout food. Back to home and still struggling to return myself to the right state of mind for work tomorrow morn.

My Good Name

When I returned my rental car at Doha International Airport this morning, the gentleman at the car rental agency asked me for my good name. It took me a good five seconds to realize that I am talking to a south Asian and that by requesting my "good name," he is simply asking for my first name.

I got in to Doha International Airport at 19:20hr last night. Processing through immigration was a snap. I paid my QR 100 (roughly USD $27) and quickly proceeded to the city with a rental car. People I encountered were kind and helpful. My occasional use of "salaam alaykum" got me plenty of good will and lots of smiles from the locals. I checked into the Doha Ritz Carlton (gratis with points from my credit card. Woohoo!) and had an uneventful walkabout at the City Centre Shopping Mall. I checked my email when I got back to my room and watched Good Will Hunting on the tube until I passed out at 01:00hr Doha time.

One may ask why would an American in Qatar spend his only night at a mall? First, I wanted to get a carry-on luggage with wheels. So I went in search of dinner and my bag. I found a rather likable luggage and also ate a chicken whopper at the City Centre Carrefour. It was a bad meal, but mission accomplished. Further, unless I have the time to visit the desert, it seems that shopping is what the locals do for fun here. So when in Rome . . .

But back to my impression of Doha. I feel like I am in an Arabian version of Las Vegas (sans alcohol to facilitate business and fun). Doha is lined with newly-paved and broad boulevards; the new skyscrapers are fantastic!. As a big fan of modern architecture, I'm highly impressed.

But the city is about more than the buildings. Although I see Qataris with elegant and flowing white robes and keffiyehs walking and driving their SUVs about, I see more Asian service workers and North American and European business travelers.

I'm not sure what the future holds for these migrant workers. While they volunteered to be here for work, it seems regretful that they are not a part of the Gulf region's identity. Their status reminds me of the Turks in Germany; they're there but there's no there there. But who knows, maybe they don't want to stay and prefer to make a quick buck before returning to India, Pakistan, the Philipines, or China. But it is indeed quite a contrast. While Doha depends on these imported workers to function properly, it was striking to see the legions of migrant workers herded onto buses like cattle - their faces hardened by days of hard labor under the hot Gulf sun.

I don't mean to sound so down. I just typically get reflective and melancholic as I approach the end of a good trip. A good friend once commented that I get melancholic when I am drunk. So perhaps I'm intoxicated from the pleasures of traveling.

Tomorrow is back to Washington, work, and studies. But I remind myself to be upbeat. After all, I just booked my air travels for my plan to move to Buenos Aires in January. I am very excited about the Argentine plan L. and I hatched in Aqaba!

The seven-pillared worthy house

As my the post in my serious blog stated, I've been traveling in Jordan visiting L. We had a amazing time at our short stay at Wadi Rum. While it was great fun climbing and scrambling up rocks, and rolling down sand dunes with L., the highlight must be our time with the Bedouins. It was an incredible cultural experience to be invited for tea at their home. Our time at the Rum was that much more special because our guide M.'s nephew married an American girl from the Seattle area. Listening to tales of their lives in the desert and N.'s ordeal in marrying a Bedouin was amazing. M. and his nephew showered us with tea and N. showed us a DVD of her wedding. I cannot say that I agree with all their customs. But our Bedouin friends broke into the biggest smiles at the drop of the hat and were the best host one can ask for. I was overjoyed that they invited me and L. into their home and permitted us to enjoy their land if it were my own. I will treasure this experience and hope to come back in the near future.

I'm also happy that M. gave me a nickname. He called me something like "avrit." He said it's something like a jeanie (you know, out of the bottle) because he saw me scrambling up rocks on all fours. I'll have to earn my reputation next time I return.


I love you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands
and wrote my will across the sky in stars
To gain you Freedom, the seven-pillared worthy house,
that your eyes might be shining for me
When I came.

T.E. Lawrence on Wadi Rum

Thoughts about Missouri

She's been a lot of things over the last ten years. Missouri has been, most of all, a sweet little girl - a joy in my life. She's loyal, goofy, clean, hates poop and going to the bathroom, dependable, greedy , best beggar, funny little face, pillow hog, whiny girl, chick magnet, puppy who loves to cuddle, always kicks or headbutts you in the face if you try to hug or kiss her, fishy breath, happy little girl, rocket dog, bright sunshine at the end of the day, smiley girl, mousy dog, little prairie dog standing on her hind legs to beg for food, anti-big dogs, anti-any dogs, scaredy cat, loud mouth, growl and wag her tail at other dogs at the same time, kissy girl, and so much more. I miss her so much.

Missouri passed away this morning. Much in her usual fashion, she did not trouble anyone. She was happy and bounding down the hallway one second, and quietly expired the next. Missouri was a cheerful, considerate, and loyal little girl. She went without suffering and she is in a better place right now. I'm so numb at this moment I'm at a loss for words.

I haven't been very good about updating this blog lately. With the makeup exams and work, I just haven't cared about writing anything down.

This was a difficult morning. A little too many drinks last night at ML's Superbowl party and an early morning doctor's appointment is not a good mix.

It is terrible reporting daily for a job I don't care for. I only take comfort in that the job is only the means which is helping me finish school and apply to B school. I gotta focus.

But I walked out of the apartment and saw this rainbow this morn. It did wonders to lighten the mood. The picture is the intersection of 14th and Park Rd NW, right down the street from chez moi.

Mullets in Taipei?

I'm upset about my current visit to Taipei - and it's not just about the mullets I see all over Taipei's young hipsters. I'm unhappy about this visit because I'm here to probably see my father for the last time. He's got brain cancer and his chances aren't good.

Since I arrived three days ago, I've spent virtually all my time with my dad. It's amazing that even in his current state, he can still manage to infuriate me. He just has that special skill to be disagreeable. But never mind my conflicted relationship with dad. I must see him through and make sure his remaining days are as comfortable as can be.

Our days involve daily visits to the hospital for radiation treatment. Mother and I try to take him on daily walks in the park with his dog Patjiang, and special trips to Danshui, a seaside town within an easy commute on the Taipei Metro. Our Friday trip was especially meaningful for my parents since Dansui was where they went to boarding school and got married. I wish time could have stopped for my parents while we were at their alma mater.

During this Taipei trip I'm witnessing an interesting donnybrook between the pro-Taiwan independence political parties (greens) versus the Nationalists (blue). The greens, who control the government, unilaterally renamed the Chiang Kai Shek Memorial the Taiwan Democracy Memorial Hall (TDMH). The blues, naturally against everything green, have been protesting the move. Further, since the blues control the Taiwanese Legislature and the Taipei City Hall, refuse to harmonize the name of the metro station that services the TDMH. IMHO, since Chiang was a fairly despicable dictator and didn't even like living in Taiwan, I'm all for the renaming of the memorial and the metro station. But what do I know, I'm just an American in Taipei . . . .

The Last Thanksgiving Meal

In the midst of a very joyous dinner last night, I found myself feeling sad. This is the first Thanksgiving at our Mt. Vernon Square condo without JH.

Last night's gathering will also be the last dinner party here before we move out and transfer ownership of this property to the buyer. During the meal, a host of different feelings surged through my head. Many of them were good memories -- our dinner parties, BBQs, friends over to watch rugby matches, etc. We had a lot of fun here.

There is no point in recalling the bad memories.

On the upside, our Franco-American Thanksgiving meal was a smashing success. Our five French friends thoroughly enjoyed this most American event and left with their stomachs full of turkey and fine California and Oregon wine. However, Julien's jello shots topped the cake. Les Garcons are learning the finest American culture!

Farewell to a friend

I didn't know Zack Tellier very well. By the time this skinny kid from New Hampshire arrived on the American University campus, I was already on my way out. We played rugby for the AU Rugby Club for a year, but we never talked about anything of any importance.

He was a gentle soul. But also I knew Zack as a rugby player, and as a hard-headed and intense young man who lacked directions but took every opportunity to live life to the fullest.

On Wednesday, words that Zack was KIA in Afghanistan hit me like a ton of bricks. He wasn't my best friend, but he was a part of the AU Rugby Club family and he gave his life serving our country. We had to pay our final respect to Zack, and to the Tellier family.

Chris Rutyna, Dave Radcliffe, and I drove up to Massachusetts on Thursday night. We attended the wake in Falmouth, MA but had to drive back to DC on Friday.

I'm happy we went. But I wasn't sure how I felt about going to the service of a friend - the first among my college friends to leave this world. We conveyed our thoughts to Sara Tellier, Zack's wife. But I found myself lacking words when I needed my wits the most. Seeing Zack's coffin laying in the funeral home affected me a great deal more than I thought it would.

As we pulled out of the service and toasted a drink in Zack's honor, a thick New England fog fell upon us and escorted us the entire drive back to Washington, DC. I like to think that's Zack saying his farewell to us and seeing us home safely. He was that kind of person.

In Zack's memory.