Monkey Business

So, I guess it's time for another post. Hmmmm, what to write about... I don't have any adventures this time, nor do I have any beautiful pictures. For anyone complaining of a let down after Thailand, try flying back to freezing cold Seoul from sunny Bangkok sometime. Life has been good since I came back, but I just haven't done anything particularily noteworthy, nor have I taken any pictures. For the time being, I want to use this forum to get something off my chest. This involves the longest, most overbloated, self-important, and WAY overrated piece of garbage I've ever had the disgust of sitting through. Any guesses? Look at the title of this entry.

If you guessed King Kong, then you are really smart--and handsome (or pretty). I've decided I might be able to pick up readers through blatent flattery, so let me know if it works. If any of you intelligent and sophisticated movie goers have ever sat through King Kong, then your butt is probably as numb as mine. I can't fathom how a studio exec could have watched this monstrosity and not said: "Okay, this is the extended version. Now let's chop 90 minutes off this thing." I've recommended to other people who were curious to see the movie to skip the first hour of the film altogether. Seriously, nothing happens. For some reason, there is a pointless and inane exposition fleshing out one-dimensional characters that we could give a less crap about. By the time the expedition finally reaches Skull Island--an hour into the film--I had forgotten I was watching a movie about a giant monkey. Of course, a movie about a giant monkey should be taken very seriously and every single shot should go on forever just to catch the perfect mood, then it should go on a little longer, and longer still.

The second act is the only semi-interesting part of this movie, and it still goes on way, way too long. There are all kinds of dinosaurs and monsters, which bored the hell out of me. How do you make dinosaurs boring, you ask. I'll tell you how: You take away their weight, so it is really obvious the humans are interacting with a blue screen and not a real animal. There is a stampede scene where dinosaurs are flipping and piling on top of each other and rolling over humans who just run in between them and somehow don't get crushed. Ridiculous. At least this scene was drawn out to fifteen minutes, because it really needed all that time to develop. There is a scene where Kong fights three t-rex's, which had it's cool moments. The problem is this fight drug on far too long (big shock, there). By the end of the fight I was completely disinterested. It was a feeling of looking up from time to time and saying: "Wow, they're still fighting."

Notice I'm complaining about the action sequences dragging on to the point of tedium. There were more action sequences after this that were even less plausible (a kid who had never fired a machine gun shoots giant bugs off of people from point blank range without ever hitting the people) and equally bloated. If the action scenes bored me, then think about the slower moments. This entire movie felt like the last 40 minutes of "Return of the King", where Frodo and Sam gaze wistfully at each other, and then gaze wistfully at each other, and then gaze wistfully at each other some more, and then gaze... you get the point. Throughout King Kong, I was gazing wistfully at my watch. The intimate scenes between Kong and what's her face (the person from the first hour of the film that was supposed to matter) take FOREVER! Hey, P.J., it's a sunset, it's quiet,I GET IT, LET'S MOVE ON. It's as if every single shot is so important that it has to be given enought time to be properly digested. Each scene carries so much resonance, that it must be given its proper attention and careful consideration. Did I mention this movie is about a GIANT MONKEY?!!

I don't know if anyone will agree with me on this rant, and I'm sure the critics don't. Which takes me to the question at hand: How is it that Peter Jackson is above the rules of editing? The rest of the movie making world tries to tell their stories in under two and a half hours,. Sure, there are exceptions and some movies need to be longer (See: The Godfather II), but should a retelling of King Kong be one of them? Somehow, Peter Jackson has hypnotised critics and audiences into thinking his movies are that important. My mission, through this blog, is to wake people from their trances by shaking them and saying: "Wake up!! This is a three hour long movie about a giant gorilla!! This isn't high art, so quit pretending it is!!!" That goes for you, too, Peter "Wistful Gaze" Jackson. Hire an editor, for Pete's sake.

Okay, I feel better now.

The Moral of the Story:

IT'S GOOD TO KNOW EILEEN!!!

Now is the time when I reveal the nature of the side trip in Nai Thon, which sucked the rest of my cash. Before I left Korea I e-mailed Eileen and told her I was coming to Thailand. For those not in the know, Eileen is the lovely wife of my equally lovely (ahem) friend Chris O. Eileen suggested I get in touch with her parents if I were in Bangkok, and gave me her mom's cell-phone number. In Nai Thon I went to a pc room and got the number from my g-mail account (from a dial-up connection, I might add), and made a phone call to Bangkok. I should note that I was gouged for this transaction.

Eileen's mother answered the phone, and I said: "Hello, ma'am. This is Chris Perlow, a friend of Chris and Eileens--", to which she interjected: "Hi Chucky! When are you coming into Bangkok?". She asked me when my flight arrived, and she told me she would come and pick me up. After an intense end to an extremely physically taxing three days, the idea of staying with Eileen's family was very appealing, and their hospitality exceeded any expectation I might have had.

I was in utter shambles when the good parents' picked me up. I told them the story of what I did, and they were somewhat terrified, but also amused. They fed me when I got back to their beautiful home, and I took the most overdue and gratifying shower of all time. After that, I crashed out in a homey, comfortable, climate-controlled bedroom with a queen-sized bed. To think that 24 hours ago I was thinking I might end up sleeping in the airport.

The next day, after breakfast, Mrs. Chris O's-mother-in-law took me around Bangkok while she ran errands. She was kind enough to take me to an international bank, so I could get cash, and then took me to a historical site. At this point, I regret to say that I dropped the ball--I forgot my camera. Don't worry, you didn't miss much. I was dropped off at the Royal Palace, which is a huge compound full of temples. There's nothing here really worth taking a picture of unless you think that enormous, ornate, gilded, exotic looking buildings are interesting. Unless you're into fastidiously detailed, colorful murals painted up and down every wall in astonishing detail, then you're not missing anything. If you think that a Grand Palace constructed in 1782 that is meant to dwarf the aforementioned temples in beauty and stature is something to look at, you might be a little sore for my neglecting to bring my camera along. Otherwise, there really wasn't too much to look at--really. (note: sarcasm) If I were to guess what the Thai word for temple is, I would say: "bling-bling". There is gold everywhere in these places. For better pictures than the ones I might have taken plus info: http//www.palaces.thai.net

After this, we had lunch, which was extremely delicious. The parents' were thrilled that I was willing to try Thai food. They told me about westerners who visit Bangkok on business who insist on eating McDonalds and won't even try Thai food. I feel pity for people who go through their lives in this manner. If Thai food isn't my favorite thing to eat, it's really darn close. After lunch we went back to the house and I had a wonderful nap. I woke up in enough time to watch "Ohn Bak" (I may have butchered the spelling.) with Eileen's dad. This movie had the most spectacular fight scenes and stunts I had ever seen, and is more than worth checking out.

That evening, we went to dinner before they dropped me off at the airport. The picture below is from our dinner together. Their hospitality and warmth was amazing. They made me feel as if I was staying with family, which is how I will always want to treat my friends, family, and friends of family if I ever have the opportunity. My time in Bangkok could have been miserable, and I'm not sure how much more misery I could have handled. Instead it was a time of pleasant fellowship with a dear friend's wonderful parents. When I said farewell at the airport, I stressed that I couldn't thank them enough for their graciousness, to which they replied by smiling and saying: "It was a pleasure, Chucky. Please come back and see us."

The Final Frontier

With Nai Thon now in the rear view mirror, now comes the part of the journey that gets really trepiditious. After three days of ignoring advice to avoid the coast, I wasn't the least bit worried about this last lap. For the first time all week, I was told the coast wouldn't be a problem. Oh my, oh my, was that ever lousy advice. The rocks seemed to get bigger, sharper, and steeper the closer I got to the airport. I came to this point, where I had one place to go--up and over. This next cliff pictured is much bigger than it looks in the picture, and I had no way around it. On the bright side, at least I was wearing really uncomfortable sandals, which is what you want for rock climbing. I saw this as the last challenge, as it would surely be better on the other side. Surely it would be better on the other side, right?



After carefully scaling this wall, I came to a point that was impassable. There was a series of cliffs larger than this one, with large valleys of water in between. I had only one option, and that was to go straight up through the mountain and find the road. After getting to the top of the rocks, I had to walk up a steep wooded hill. When I was walking up the rocks, there was never a problem with footing or grip. On this hill, however, I was walking on loose dirt. I found a tentative path up the hill, which consisted of pulling myself up from tree to tree. A couple of times I had to use a root to drag myself to the next tree, which was hard work. It didn't help matters that the pretty green bushes in the picture had sharp prickly leaves.



Finally I got high enough up where the ground was even enough to walk on upright, and I found a path. I followed this path further up the hill, through the jungle. The path eventually dead ended, much like the road earlier that morning. At this point that morning had seemed like it happened a lifetime ago, in a different place. I cut through the thick trees and brush until I found another path, which dead ended again.

For the next few hours I roamed through the jungle like an animal, moving from one path to another--thoroughly lost. I have to mention that it was sweltering underneath these trees, and I was out of water. Following path after path, none of them leading anywhere, I neglected to stop and take pictures. Besides, I never found a good place to sit and pull my camera out of my bag. At one point I nearly walked through a gigantic spider web. I saw this thing at the last second, hit the brakes, and backed up. It was then when I saw the biggest, nastiest looking spider I had ever seen anywhere, zoos and discovery channel included. I wish I'd have taken a picture of this guy, but I was no longer thinking like a tourist. I was rather thinking that I needed to get the hell out of this jungle before it got dark. Thus I didn't stop to rest or take pictures. There was only one option at this point, and that was to keep walking. I was no longer a tourist, and this was no joke. It was now a matter of survival.

As I got deeper into the jungle there was a loud, eerie ringing sound, which sounded like a siren. It would get very loud, and then just stop. I believe this noise came from some type of exotic bird, or locust type creature. I can tell you all this much: It wasn't doing my nerves any favors. This was beginning to get scary. I was thinking to myself: "Great move, Dr. Jones. You've finally done it this time." At my very lowest and thirstiest, I lost concentration for a moment and jammed my arm into a bamboo stick that protruded into the path. After pulling a splinter, or spike, an inch long out of my forearm I considered yelling for help. The problem was two-fold: 1. Who was going to hear me? ( and even if they did they might not understand) 2. It's impolite to raise one's voice in Thai culture and I might offend someone.

At this point crying was not an option so I had to press on. It was getting late in the afternoon and I was really thirsty. After hours of walking up, down, back, forth, and around the jungle (conjuring images of the Blair Witch Project), I heard the sound of my salvation. There was a distant hum that had the distinct sound of road noise, which was like "The Moldau" to my ears. I followed the noise and the path got wider. Soon I found myself on a wide clean path and would have skipped had I the energy. I finally came upon the road and had never been so happy to see pavement. I saw a nice Thai couple and asked them which way was the airport. They said it was about 5km up the road, and I thanked them and began to walk. Then once again, the kindness of strangers prevailed. The man I talked to pulled up next to me on his scooter and offered to give me a lift. I arrived at the airport with three hours to spare, thirsty, sweatty, dirty, hungry, bruised, scratched, and utterly exhausted.

I drank about five gallons of water at the airport and had a tremendous feeling of gratification and accomplishment mixed with a sense of relief that I hadn't felt since I finished my Dickens thesis. I had survived the coast and the jungle. No doubt now--I would make it safely to Bangkok, and then to Seoul. Now only one question lingered: What on Earth was I going to do for 24 hours in Bangkok?

Thursday morning

Thursday morning I got an early start and decided to follow the road for a while. I wanted to get to Nai Thon quickly, to leave myself some time to lounge around on the beach before I flew back to Bangkok. I followed this lovely road as far as I could, and then it abruptly ended. I've never seen a road that just ended in the middle of nowhere, with no outlet whatsoever. I had no choice but to take the coast again, which served me right for taking the easy path.

The morning hike was muddy. After days of walking on boulders, I was now trudging through soggy deep sand. I made my way to a small village where there were a bunch of locals having a picnic. There was a large group playing soccer to the rhythmic beat of drums. I didn't get close enough to the village to take a decent picture. I thought about stopping and kicking around, but time was not a luxury this day. Besides, the path to the village was hairy, and I was having a hard enough time with the coast. I made a move toward the gathering, but the mud was too deep, so I kept walking. I do really like the idea of playing soccer to drums. I know the Brazilians employ this tactic, and it seems to work pretty well for them. There also was something primally satisfying in hiking past a small exotic village with an exotic beat. It made me feel like a real adventurer.

After getting through the mud I ventured further down the coast and ended up in a completely different atmosphere. I landed on a gorgeous beach resort with palm trees and beautifully manicured gardens. The people staying here were undoubtedly having a much different vacation experience then your narrator. I was tired of sludging and climbing, so I went through the resort to find the road. While I was sweatty, dirty, and haggard, I thought the resort people would turn their noses up at the sight of me. The staff did nothing of the sort. I felt a little sheepish and intrusive, so I told them I was hiking and just wanted to find the road. A very nice young man offered to take me to the road in his golf cart, and I happily accepted. We talked along the way and I told him I was going to Nai Thon beach. He called his mother, the resort manager, and she met us at the front gate. She refused to let me walk, and called her other son and asked him to give me a ride to Nai Thon. She also gave me the name of a contact in Nai Thon who would take me to the airport on a shuttle bus. This was typical of the accomodation and generosity I received all week from the very nice local folks.

I arrived in Nai Thon just after 11:00, with plenty of time to spare. I had a snack and spent the remainder of my cash on a service to be named later. I relaxed a bit and took a swim in the ocean. I asked the local at the restaurant what the hike was like to the airport, and she said: "It's just around that cove. Maybe 45 minutes walk." I could have bummed around on that beach all day and taken the shuttle, but I opted to take the coast and bum around at the beach by the airport instead. After three days of hiking, what was another 45 minutes? I set out after lunch to tackle the last leg of rocky coast. The rest of the afternoon is a different story in itself, and it deserves its own entry. I should probably warn the feint of heart and worrisome that they may want to skip the next chapter all together.

Hump day

Here I am back in Korea, right smack in the middle of student evaluations... some welcome back present. I've been racking my brain the last couple of days for constructive phrases like "If Johnny's i.q. ever reaches 50, he should sell", and so on and so forth. For now, though, I look at the pictures and go back to a sunnier time two weeks ago this day.

Wednesday was as sunny and bright as the days before, and I set out after breakfast in hope of making it as far as Nai Thon Beach, which is supposedly a stone's throw from the airport. The locals I talked to the night before said there was no way to get there other than taking the road, but hey, the coast had gotten me this far. They had said the same thing two days ago, and here I was over halfway there. The journey consisted of more of the same--mostly passable rocky coast with a few beaches scattered here and there.

I knew this day was crucial in making up enough ground to make it to the airport by Thursday evening, so I walked non-stop until late afternoon. The reward for taking the difficult path was the opportunity to see these incredible vistas, with only the wind and the ocean as background noise. The depth of these panoramas are not adequetely represented in these photos, nor is the sheer beauty. For this shot, in example, I was atop of a petrified lava flow which formed a steep rock hill that towered over the bay. The palm trees on the other side are 50 feet tall, and I'm looking down on them. While getting to the top of this thing took a little work, getting down was as easy as walking down a steep hill, with three foot wide deep crevices every 15 feet. Like I said before, though, the grip on these surfaces is superb. Keeping my footing was not a big challenge. The challenge was to find the safest, most navigable path and keeping my concentration.
After a grueling day of further abuse to my exhausted and beat up feet, I settled on a smaller beach just down the coast from Nai Thon. I asked the locals at the restaurant about the distance to the airport and if they knew Eileen. While they had never met my friend, they did say that the airport was about 10km by road. They also said that the coast was impassable, but I had heard that one before. As I laid on the beach, scoping out the most magnificent sky I had ever seen, I pondered my next day's journey. "Perhaps I should take the road," I thought. "I braved the rocks for two days and made it this far without injury, so I should not press my luck for a third day." I would think about this through the evening, weighing each option. There was a light shower that evening, which passed in less than one hour. After the shower I sat on the beach and watched the most spectacular lightning on the distant horizon. I tried to get a photo of it, but if you've ever tried to capture lightning on camera, you'd know how easy it is. After taking a dozen photos of black sky, I gave up and decided to enjoy the show. I would fall asleep in this spot, on a comfy beach chair. The next morning I would start my trip just after sunrise and the question lingered in my dreams that night: "Will I take the road or the coast tomorrow morning?"

Adventure!

Two days of bumming around the beach and hanging out in a resort left me feeling a little empty. I know, poor me. After breakfast buffet at the hotel, I decided I needed to get out of the bubble I was in so I packed my bags and set out walking. I had until Thursday to get to the airport, which was about 60km down the coast. So I did what any rational person in my situation would do: I decided to hike. This picture shows a very different view of the main beach from the picture I took day one. Civilization has a totally different look from the outside. Patong Beach is in a cove, and this picture was taken from the outer edge. I didn't know what was on the other side of the cove, but I would soon find out.

The coast was very rocky, and it took some navigating to get from beach to beach. The good thing about the rocks is that they were totally solid, mostly flat, and had great grip--even when wet. Realizing the fact that I was walking up, down, and around boulders by myself with a backpack, a small bag, and sandals which were goring holes in my feet, I thought this might be a little dangerous. But hey, you should all know by now what I live for: It starts with a D and ends with ANGER!! However, I did have the sense to lay down some ground rules. One: Stay low, whenever possible. Try to stay close to the water, so if I fall I don't kill myself. Two: Take the easiest path possible. Never take any unnecessary risks and don't climb anything unless there's no other way. For the most part, it was a safe path, albeit a physically exerting one. Every once in a while, though, I would run into areas like this, where there was nowhere to go but up.

The journey wasn't without rest. After scaling the cliff, which wore me out, I found the road and followed it. Wow, there's a road that runs along the coast--how convenient. I stopped for lunch at a small roadside restaurant and feasted on some ludicrously hot, yet extremely delicious green curry. There have been many beers consumed in my lifetime, but I'm not sure if any one of them were as satisfying as this one. I took a picture of the menu because I felt it was indicative of the service I received all week. Everywhere I went it the nice local people bent over backwards to accomodate my every need and desire. Before I move on, I have to say again that this curry was savagely spicy, and ridiculously tasty.

I walked on the rest of the afternoon, down the coast. The walking was not too treacherous after lunch, and I didn't have to scale any cliffs. My feet were really killing me, though. Speaking of my feet, I have to back up for a moment. When I took the road, the sandals were too uncomfortable to handle, so I put on some socks. I thought of how proud my father would be seeing me walking around in shorts, black socks, and sandals.

Early evening, I arrived at Kamala Beach, which is close to halfway to the airport. I covered alot of ground this day, and it was time to rest. At this spot, my eyes were opened to the effects of the tsunami. While it's easy to stay in resorts and go about like nothing had happened, there are people whose lives have been devastated, and they're still rebuilding. This area was ground zero, and I talked to many of the locals. One person told me that in seven minutes his business, his life, was completely underwater. He said he was lucky he was a strong swimmer. Think about that for a moment. I talked to a nice lady who owns a restaurant. Her and her family run the business from 9am to 11pm every single day...every single day. They lost family members and friends and were now working like hell to pick up the pieces--much like every other person I talked to in this small community. On top of all of this, none of these people had ever met Eileen. Despite this devastation, however, the people were cheerful, friendly, and extremely gracious. For me, a really poignant representation of the spirit of these people was in the construction zone just across the street from the guest house in which I was staying. While the men were working well into the evening, there was music blaring and a large group of children under the newly built structure: Dancing.

Your typical Monday

Monday morning I woke up bright and early, well, early at least, and took a tour boat out to Phi Phi Islands. This is a chain of islands off the coast of Phuket where the films "The Beach" and "The Man with the Golden Gun" were filmed. The islands were as beautiful as anything I had ever seen and the weather was equally beautiful. The boat ride took about 45 minutes, which entailed sitting on a speed boat with a bunch of tourists--many of them in speedos. I can't say I felt particularly social on this morning, and my feet were absolutely killing me. I had bought a pair of sandals the previous day and proceeded to walk several miles over rocky terrain. The sandals didn't fit well at all, and they gored holes in my tootsies. Thankfully, I didn't need sandals on this day.

This is the island where "The Man with the Golden Gun" was filmed. It is aptly called James Bond Island. See how blue the water is--this is not a product of trick photography nor is it a convenient glare. This must be the best place for swimming in the entire world. There are cliffs like this one one each side, providing shade and scenery. The water is cool, deep, and devoid of fish, creatures, rocks, debris, and man-made structures. The only thing it is not devoid of is tourists like myself. While the pictures are meant to look like I was here by myself, there were actually several other boats full of speedo-clad sight seers. The water was still as pleasant and refreshing as could be, and the sun was radiant.


Here is the final stop on the tour. After having lunch on the resortiest of the islands, we stopped on this small island with a great beach and world-class snorkeling. The tour guide was kind enough to take this photo of yours truly. I had asked him if he knew Eileen, and he had never heard of her. I walked around the far end of the island, away from the crowd, and found a quieter place to snorkel. It paid off, as I was the only person in our group to see a shark. I actually saw two of them, but I didn't get a really close look. As soon as I started swimming towards them, they darted away. I couldn't identify the species, but I'm pretty sure they were either great whites or tiger sharks. They're lucky they swam away, cause I might have killed them with my bare hands. I also saw a huge variety of different colorful fish, which were much less shy than the sharks. I would swim among these things and some of them would swim right up to my face, as if to say: "Hey whitey!". After I got out of the water, I sat on a chair on the beach under an umbrella and drank coconut milk out of a coconut through a straw. This made up for the Pina Colada that caught me off guard the day before.


This is a shot of the back end of the island, where I snorkeled. There was no way around the shore without getting my backpack wet, so I went up and over. It was hard work getting to the top of this thing, but the view made it well worth it. These islands were stunningly beautiful, and the water was the perfect temperature. Something that I took note of on this venture, that I had also noted the day before was the fact that there were no visible signs of the tsunami which devastated this coast just over a year ago. I remarked to one of my fellow tourists on the way back from this venture that if I hadn't known about the tsunami from the news, I would have no idea that this had happened here.

I got back to the motel around six that evening, and I was thoroughly exhausted. My feet were swollen, cut, and bruised, and I was looking forward to a quiet night around the resort. I hung out with some British tourists that evening and kept it very low key. The past two days had been tremendous, yet something was missing. Despite the incredible natural beauty, delicious food, beers, and wonderful service, I had realized that my vacation was sorely lacking one crucial element...

Adventures in Thailand: Sunday

It snowed all day today. It's cold and gloomy outside and I spent my evening cramming English lessons into uncooperating kids in a noisy classroom. One week ago, I was far, far away from cold and chaos, and now all I have is the photos to remember it by. I spent last week in sunny, beautiful Phuket Island in southern Thailand. I flew into Bangkok Saturday and took the next plane to the island, arriving late Saturday night. I would be in Phuket until Thursday night when I would fly back to Bangkok. I would fly back to Seoul the following night.

Day one was far from adventurous. The above picture pretty much sums up how I spent the first part of the day. This is Patong Beach, and the water really is this blue. This is a touristy place, which is flooded with Europeans. The old fat men in speedo watching is truly world class in this spot. There are also topless women walking up and down the beach, none of them under the age of 45. Still, one could argue that boobs are boobs. I sat in this spot for hours, watching people and the ocean while sipping on beers, soaking up sunshine, and eating fresh fruit. One doesn't need to get up to do any shopping as there are locals walking up and down the beach selling all kinds of stuff.

I could only take so much lazing about, so after lunch I walked down the beach and did some exploring. I walked past the sandy beach to a more rocky area that was inhabited by thousands of mud crabs. As I walked along, I could hear them pinching and snapping all over the place. It sounded as if someone had poured a whole bunch of milk into a gigantic bowl of rice krispies, to wax poetic. The little fella pictured got caught in the open, and had nowhere to hide. We stood there for a couple of minutes and just stared at each other. I think he was curious in that he had never seen an American before. As long as I didn't try to molest him, he didn't move. When I tried to touch him, he snapped at me and scurried away. He's smart, because I probably would have killed him. (You all should know I'm joking as I wouldn't hurt a fly...unless it made me angry)

I walked down the coast a couple of miles or so, playing with the crabs, soaking up the sun, and stopping to gape at the unbelievable scenery. This place is more beautiful than I can put into words. The pictures don't come close to doing it justice, although there will be many nice ones in the days to come. On top of the natural beauty and warm hospitality there is the huge added bonus of eating Thai food every meal. This was the afternoon snack I ate in a beach front restaurant--absolutely delicious. I also ordered a pina colada at this beach side restaurant and the bartender used mix--WTF??? I was expecting fresh pineapple and coconut milk and the bartender pulls out the Mr. and Mrs. T. That would be the last "tropical" drink I would order this week.

Later that evening, after cleaning up at the hotel, I did what any red-blooded whitey would do in my situation--I got cornrows. This photo was taken on my hotel balcony by a staff member. She asked me where I was from and I said: "St. Louis. Say, do you know Eileen?". Oddly enough, she had never heard of her. I went out on the town that evening and had to fight off the Thai women with a stick. Apparently, the cornrows have magical powers. In reality, the women I was beating away with a stick were prostitutes, but it's nice to imagine. The braids would prove to be very practical as the week went on, however, as I didn't have to mess with my hair at all, nor did I have to deal with it getting in my face. That has got to be the manliest thing I've ever written in any of my journals.

I booked a trip to Phi Phi Island the following morning, departing at 7:30. After a night of beers, overt come-ons from desperate women, and a Man U. game (I settled in a pub and watched the live match with a bunch of English hooligans), I cranked up the a/c and went to sleep in my king sized resort bed. Just for good measure, I'll include one more scenic shot, which is what I dreamed about that evening.

It's all about Seoul

I got back to work today and I still have Thailand on the brain. The vacation was a fantastic adventure in a ludicrously beautiful environment, which I will tell all about very soon. In the meantime I promised a recap of my trip to Seoul Tower, and I won't disappoint. This venture happened two weeks ago, so the details are fuzzy. However, the pictures should help me get through this and I can get on to the really important task of rehashing my holiday on the island.

I went to the tower with my neighbor Pam, and I even included a lovely picture for those of you who thought she was a fictional character. The tower is located on top of a mountain, which has stairs all the way up and a series of different gardens, parks, monuments, and vantage points that seemed to get better and better as we went further up the mountain. The view from the top of the mountain was incredible--we could see all of Seoul, maybe even all of Korea. The panorama behind Pamela is a view seen from about midway up the mount, and the other view is from the top.

You might notice a similarity between these scenic photos and the ones taken from atop of the hogwan. You'll notice a bunch of buildings and sprawl crammed really close together with mountains in between and in the background. This is typical Korean and a microcosm of the country. It is a blend of vastly populated, overcrowded and polluted urban landscape mixed with an affinity and appreciation for nature. For instance, there is this mountain, which has natural wonders and an incredible view, yet is located in the middle of the city and has people walking all over the place.

The third picture is one of yours truly being a goofy poser in front of a monument. The monument is of the inventor of the wheel, I believe. Or perhaps he was some sort of ruler, or emporer, or maybe a soldier...possibly a religious leader or Korean liberator. Maybe I could have taken a moment to read the inscription next to the monument. But what's the point? I would have forgotten it by now anyway. Whatever this guy did, I'm sure it was really neat, and I hope he's happy wherever he is that he is now immortalized in the blog--just in case the statue wasn't enough.

Anyway, this is all old news. For those of you who have suffered through the last week with no new blogs, this is a bonus week. One entry won't possibly do justice to my vacation, so I'm composing a multi-part Thailand series, which will hopefully commence tomorrow. I have many photos and stories to share, so look forward to having your socks knocked off, or something like that.