sampling bangkok glam

a fat and tired baby pants rested his cheek on the cold kitchen floor. the chill conspired with pressure from an ear infection to make half of his face collapse. mommy didnt take photos of her paralyzed cripple-chile for a few months. surgery helped, but all future photos featured a lopsided, half-toothy, half-squinting smile. years later he would dread school photo day and felt bad ruining high school dance portraits.

having my photo taken has always caused anxiety. ironically a big part of my last job was doing interviews and photoshoots. tho my deformed mug has moderated over the years my grin remains crooked. to avoid my funky snarl i created a media beam a few years back. 1) smile naturally, then 2) lower the right side of my lower lip. ive been told that my natural smile resembles a mischievious smirk. some have found it unnerving, commenting that it seems like im making fun of them. not coincidentally my personality is also sarcastic, mischievious and joking. while my deformity is endearing to some, its not great material for the camera.

but im vain and because its silly, flattering and unlikely to ever happen again, i responded to a request from khun o'sira kulsrethsiri (thailands self-described best makeup artist and style specialist) who saw my fridae profile and wanted me to visit his model story studio while i was in bangkok. it was a humbling rather than glamorous experience. no matter how hard they tried, the carnage from my viet haircut wasnt cute. makeup concentrated on concealing my hyper pigmentation and pimples. the photographer instructed me to reveal only my right side and to suck in my stomach while i projected a manually altered smile. after i left my snapshots would undergo the added disgrace of prodigious photoshop retouching, all done to make me palatable to this cruel cruel beautiful world. my consolation prize was being told not to worry since some shoots werent looking for beautiful faces but guys with a 'normal look.' thanks! luckily my dream is to be an uncute model.

a couple of days later my buddy khunakorn invited me to the opening of bangkok fashion week. tho somewhat fabulous the event felt second or third tier. but i got to see real models work the walk with next top model ambition. the pageantry! the superfluous pomp! among the gals was one full-asian, a few mixed breeds but the majority were damn-near-albino white. thailand definitely prefers caucasian nobodys in lieu of local lookers. sigh. if only i was full-white. then my life would be perfect. not really. anyhow, i got my snapshot of bangkok glam. it was short term fun, but ive had my fill.
more bangkok photos here.

stunning angkor

the fiasco of just getting here made me curious about what lodging alice had arranged for me. fortunately the green garden hotel was clean and secure. an added bonus was the former ownder, a cynical old aussie expat who still lived there and typically lounged on its front veranda. his helpful tips on navigating siem reap were often punctuated by racist quips about the locals. that said, he also connected me with sakhorn, an honest and english-proficient tuktuk driver who could be my angkor guide.

angkor wat (via google earth)

over the next two days i spent many hours viewing over a dozen magnificent, humbling and haunting temples under a hot cambodian sun. the first king of the angkorian era was jayavarman ii, who returned from java in 790 to subdue competing states and declare a unified 'kambuja'. temple building became a defining mark of the angkorian kings. over 1000 temples were built during the khmer empire, which ruled much of southeast asia until the 15th century, when repeated invasions by the thai moved the capital from angkor to phnom penh. at its peak this 'holy city' had over 1 million residents, yet it was largely unknown to outsiders until henri mouhot re-'discovered' angkor wat in 1860. today, the vast angkor archaeological park hosts a million visitors annually.

highlights:

the haunting faces of bayon

angkor thom and bayon
angkor thom was built starting in the late 12th century by jayavarman vii. this 3 square kilometer walled and moated royal city was the last capital of the angkorian empire, built in an uprecendented campaign of temple construction after angkor was reclaimed after a brief control by the cham (from present-day viet nam). the huge complex is accessed through five gates to the city. the citys greatest temple is bayon, whose 37 towers feature four carved faces that point north, south, east and west. its thought these smiling chubby visages represented a combination of buddha and jayavarman vii, bayons patron. in addition to its serene and somewhat spooky faces, the bas-reliefs depicting the historical sea battle between the khmer and cham that decorates bayons south wall are remarkable.

banteay sreys pink sandstone

banteay srey
a good 38 km from siem reap and most of the other angkor temples is banteay srey, which was built in the late 10th century by king rajendravarman. this hindu-dedicated temple is loosely translated as 'citadel of the women,' but sakhorn and others usually just call it 'the lady temple'. unique in that it was built of a beautiful pink sandstone covered in intricate carvings, this temple reflects some of the finest examples of classical khmer art. on the lengthy drive there i enjoyed getting to seeing more of cambodian life, like small grade school kids in smart uniforms riding on bicycles more suitable for grown men and water buffalo foraging near modest stilted homes built above flooded rice paddies.

1866 photo of angkor wat by emile gsell

angkor wat
constructed in the 12th century by suryavarman ii at the height of khmer military and political dominance over southeast asia, angkor wat is a breathtaking testament to khmer greatness. this massive three-tiered structure is crowned by a quincunx of beehive-like towers that rise 65 meters. dedicated to the hindu god vishnu, angkor wat is surrounded by a wide moat and wall measuring 1300 x 1500 meters. nearly 2000 apsara carvings depict stories from hindu mythology. bas-reliefs running counterclockwise around the temples first tier depict the mythological battle of kuru, suryavarman iis march against the cham, scenes from heaven and hell and the 'churning of the ocean milk' scene on the north wall. at the heart of this massive religious monument (said to be the worlds largest) is a modest buddhist shrine thats been tended continually since the angkorian era. i visited angkor wat shortly after sunrise and the temple was largely (and eerily) absent of other spelunkers, which made exploring its walls and halls all the more haunting. of anywhere ive seen on earth, i wish i could see what angkor was like at its height.
more cambodia photos here.

cambodge impromptu

given my already pathetic state of mind, the cluelessness of yet another bangkok taxi driver had me ready to write off all thai as sneaky and insincere. clearly it was time to get outta dodge, so yesterday i stopped by the thai tourism office to see about travel packages to chiang mai or angkor wat. once there however, alice told me that prices would go up considerably tomorrow so id better make a decision now. yikes. i took the plunge (or the bait?) but tried to minimize costs by telling alice that my birthday was tomorrow (i dont think it helped) and by taking a 12-hour bus ride there instead of flying both ways. i spent the rest of my day visiting touristy sites, ordering 2 custom-made cashmere suits, 1 tuxedo and 5 shirts (with chicago delivery) for only $800, and perusing loose gems for sissy at the royal lapidary.

alices cake

when i returned this morning to pick up my tickets and itinerary from alice she pulled out a small cake with a orange highlighted post-it reading 'happy birthday to you!' her coworkers started singing happy birthday and i got weepy at their thoughtfulness. after hugs and photos i returned to my hotel and waited 90 mins for the bus, somewhat relieved that i might not have to go on this trip anyway. but a moped finally arrived to take me to the bus station. once aboard, my slight disapointment about leaving bangkok was tempered by the buses cushy, largely empty confines.

cambodian-thai border

six or so hours into our journey the bus stopped near the border for lunch and to get our cambodian visas. from there it was a short ride to the border town of poi pet, a typically spooky, dusty and impoverished place where we were ushered through a series of efficient checkpoints. a woman sitting behind a translucent plastic desk with only a calculator and a stack of cambodian bills exchanged my dollars for riel (i later learned that cambodians prefer dollars). after forty minutes or so we realized this cambodian mans sincerity as he instructed the 16 of us - a hodge podge of americans, germans, french, japanese and brits - to pile into the back of a standard-sized pickup truck (along with our bags) for the 6? 8? 10? hour journey through cambodia to siem reap.

our home for the next 9+ hours

massive flooding for weeks prior made bus traffic impossible. so for 9-ish hours we held on to bits of truck and to each other for a tenuous sense of security as we winced over constant bumps and ruts. we were too tightly packed to move our legs despite cramping and uncomfortable angles. had i been smart i would have purchased a mask in poi pet to create a buffer between my lungs and the clouds of thick dust that covered our bodies in a ruddy brown blanket and made my eyes frighteningly bloodshot.

cambodian puddles

at times our pace was reduced to a crawl as our intrepid driver navigated the most heavily flooded roads. we held our breath and whimpered about our fate replicate the stranded korean tour buses. as we made our way along the cambodian 'highway' each of us marveled at the beauty of the flooded green fields and we waved at children and other convoys that were similarly packed with 20 or more passengers who didnt have the luxury of sitting. on two occasions we stopped and were transferred to another small pickup. at one point between trucks 2 and 3 my newfound friends, upon me mentioning it was my birthday, sang me happy birthday, pausing at my name (since they didnt know it yet). i couldnt think of a better way to usher in my 28th year.

muddy feet

as dusk approached we reached a small town of stranded travellers and opportunistic locals that had popped up where the road was completely washed out. our only option was to get out and wade the 100 ft or so across while our truck was towed across by a tractor. once on the other side of the road and unable to wash off my feet (with thoughts of shistisomiasis running through my head), i pulled my socks over a caked layer of mud before returning them into my shoes. at this point pitch black darkness (no light pollution out here to dull the stars) and sheer exhaustion had us silent and retreating into ourselves. then, just 11 km from siem reap, our driver miscalculated a large hole and our rear wheel detached from the axle. as we waited alongside the road for what was next, we admired the fireflies while fantasizing about being saved by passing trucks. perhaps we were all in a bit of shock, but throughout our journey i admired our groups lack of bitching, despite some pretty ridiculous conditions.

our wheel popped off

half an hour or so passed and we were rescued. i rolled into my hotel around 9 pm and after a sorely needed scrubbing, i met up for some drinks with my new found german buddies. coincidentally an irish guy named matt that i had met in phuket was also in siem reap, so he joined us and we shared stories of our journey with him (hed flown here. bougie, i know!). afterwards matt insisted that we make our way to a dance club wed seen (it was my birthday afterall). i can only say the dancers, the music, the decor... all of it made for a fascinating cambodian clubbing experience. my cambodge impromptu had begun.
more cambodia photos here.

alone or lonesome? part 3: bar dribbles

obviously the topic of loneliness (to be or not to be) has dominated my thoughts of late. this captivating three-part series ends with a humbling transcript of drunk scribbles (dribbles) penned at a bar stool overlooking the dance floor at bangkoks dj station. not particularly humbling because i chose a crowded dance club for solo introspection but because of the thoughts inspired.

i spent over an hour searching for bangkoks infamous babylon gay sauna. by the time i got there i was dripping sweaty and it was closed. 1 aborted sauna hunt and 2 fuckey shows later im finally smiling. i have so much in common with the fat girl in the corner with the ape-to-man evolution tshirt who is reviewing photos on her digital camera. why am i laughing? am i happy watching old white men lick the necks of beautiful young thai boys? salt and pepper in the black izod. i have that shirt. oh shiz im drinking heineken not singha. i ask the bartender for a pen and she thinks im giving my number to expat gramps. the art is managing to make them interested without eye contact. i want to pretend im from viet nam. furiously scribbling into my notebook in the midst of a crowded gay club do they think im a travel writer? i love it. if there was a guy here who was intrigued by scribes we should wed. maybe i shouldnt go to angkor wat? why do spiritual when i can do carnal?

- end transmission -
more bangkok photos here.

alone or lonesome? part 2: emotional laxitives

before my departure many people told me that travelling solo for 3 months sounded intimidating. i had welcomed friends and family to join me for short treks but on the whole i wanted to do this alone. i assumed that becoming exhausted by foreign environs would cause terrible bouts of loneliness. i gingerly looked forward to the epiphanies this duress might bring.

this has not occurred. to an absurd degree i am almost always under the care of local hosts who do their best to steer me towards the good food, away from the shoddy diggs, and into the company of more fun and fabulous people. although the ease with which ive befriended folks who were strangers just hours prior is an encouraging sign for global harmony it has also created its own special kind of ironic lonesome.

its been weirdly easy to make authentic connections with fun, smart, friendly and sexy people... but confusing to say goodbye a few hours or days later. warm fuzzy fantasy got thrown out the window when omar jarringly said, 'ill never see you again.' there have been a few lucky exceptions, like reuniting with him and jaime in bali, coincidentally shadowing matt in thailand and cambodia and deliberately booking a 40 hour return to bangkok to see thanpisit encore. but these are unusual and who knows if our paths will cross a third time.

the quality and quantity of people ive met is not normal. the authentic rapport and emotions exchanged are not normal. it is crazy to treat unusual situations in usual ways so if the statistical likelihood of developing our relationship seems unlikely, why not seal the deal now? abandon the tender, generous and trusting for the naughty, dangerous or absurd finale before its too late. give me everything you can give me right now.

at a 'fuckey show' on soi duangthawee a young guy with #25 attached to his briefs keeps asking me if i want to buy him. i decline but find myself drunk in the same seat the next night, disappointed when #8 explains that # two bits already went home with somebody. the tranny pimp offers herself as a consolation prize. i leave puzzled at how close i am to buying another human being. i go to the dance club and learn that when you cant take your favorite prostitute home, you might settle for a money boy who shoves two pills into your mouth he thinks are MDMH but they are laxitives. its a fitting, literal metaphor for how physical contact can make one feel awfully empty yet hungry for more.
more bangkok photos here.

alone or lonesome? part 1: hate the game

im at an unremarkable noodle shop with shitty service in bangkoks silom area drinking an iced nescafe to perk me up. im not sure if my bad attitude is because of residual low seratonin or that im in a 21st century soddom and gamorrah. either way im starting to question peoples goodness.

as a kid my unrequited wish was to be part of a posse, to roll with my homies. the physical barriers of living on an island while school was on the mainland conspired against me but it was ultimately my unwillingness to forfeit any independence for the sake of the collective that made me a poor candidate for group-think and act.

facts on the ground made me a distrustful independent youth. what was once necessary for self-preservation has me today orchestrating a self-fulfilling prophecy that people will inevitably disappoint and shouldnt be trusted. tho this keeps my circle of friends small and somewhat paranoid, my rigorous screening process also keeps assholes at bay. a big part of my travel prep in chicago was online 'interviews' with folks hailing from my itinerarys pitstops. the result so far has been meetings scores of amazing people. but the fact that my screening stopped short of hong kong is starting to show.

ive been stood up tonight and it dont feel good. i find myself fantasizing less and less plausible explanations that are deteriorating into a shamelessness abyss. a snapshot into the rationale of a scorned pants (i blame the nescafe):

• maybe he lost/forgot my number?
• maybe his phone isnt working or a less time-sensitive cultural quirk means he will call later?
• maybe he didnt get the sms i sent?
• maybe i should call/sms myself to see if my phone is working?
• maybe hes intimidated and needs me to be more accessible?
• maybe i should eschew dating norms and pursue him more aggressively?

as time passes ive (mostly) accepted that ive been played. riveting phase 2 has me exploring possible explanations for my sorry state, switching back and forth between my and his probable shortcomings. highlights include:

• did he find my personality unattractive?
• is my personality unattractive?
• did i offend him?
• (as the situation makes me more self-conscious of my physical shortcomings) am i ug-ug?
• maybe buddha has intervened to remind me of the need to triumph over desire?
• maybe jesus has intervened to help me avoid an asshole of catastrophic proportions? (ie fate)

my pathetic and predictable processing concludes with an alarming diversity of cliches and immaturity spanning from a note to self about obeying the golden rule the next time i feel like blowing someone off to working on bitter one-line zingers in case i see mr. player later.

tho its all unfun theres a disturbing comfort in being disappointed and having my low expectations of human dependability fulfilled. its just the confirmation i need to confirm the wisdom of pragmatic solitude. two possible conclusions (pick one):

1. alone is good! thank goodness my trips irrational effusiveness about wonderful people and asian hospitality has been moderated by mans too predictable selfish foibles. or...
2. give folks a chance! this is yet another example of me seeking 'proof' (if not orchestrating sabotage) to confirm that i am right and should remain within my comfortable (tho no longer particularly healthy) behavioral status quo.

its always the battle between the cynic and the optimist, the self-righteous and the willing to adapt and change. the formers are so much easier, no?
more bangkok photos here.

gyrating sinewy torsos

you might recall that the most compelling reason for reshuffling my itinerary was to accommodate nation vi, the worlds largest asian homo party. having only recently discovered it and being brand new to the asian gay circuit party scene, i was curious what kind of debauchery might ensue. i didnt know what to expect but had high expectations, fantasizing about hordes of slick sweaty sinewy asian torsos gyrating on the dance floor to the worlds best djs until everyone fell horizontal like dominoes into a sea of groping limbs and gasping holes. ew!

sure there was lots of singaporean beefcake and butter faces, pretty thai boys and largely tolerated (but ignored) caucasian trolls on site but it all seemed pretty tame. there were rumors of a small orgy in need of caucasian participants on the 9th floor and plenty of guys with bugged out eyes tripping on e, k, or whatever but for the most part the men were friendly but cliquey and/or married.

looking back, my decision to go to nation solo was peculiar and i imagine it would have been lots more fun with a posse or a mate. even on my own, by the third day i had found some great guys to lounge around the pool with but tho im happy to check it off the list o necessary gay man life expereinces, with *absolutely no nookie whatsoever the entire weekend* i think i kinda missed the point. anyhow, thanks to alex and sam, kay, terrence, matt and troy for taking pity on the novice.

lust in honkers

im at the point in my trip where nothings been pre-planned so daily events are conducted on the fly. its also become hard for me to remember what happened when or where so i appreciate the absurd or memorable events that make a lasting impression on my noggin.

hong kongs dating scene makes the grade. the other night clarence and i walked into a room full of campy asian and gweilo (typical word used to describe caucasoids. translation: foreign devils) men in suits, many of whom sported prominent red bindis. at the door was a table blanketed by pre-printed plastic nametags. i chose 'freddie' and clarence selected 'nick'. we made a b-line to the booze table, realized we were probably the only sticky guys in a room full of rice and potato queens, and didnt win the raffle. where were we? the monthly installment of 'fruits in suits,' hong kongs social venue for professional gay men.

to grasp the vibe of our peculiar environs, imagine a very small island where every social interaction is a future business prospect. assume that the prevailing style of communication favors a passive aggressive chinese cultural flavor and that the sassy actors are prone to fomenting unnecessary drama. top it off with the yucky power dynamics created by a former british colony that is 95% nonwhite. now you have a decent understanding of what froots in soots and to a larger degree, hong kongs expat gay scene is like.

for more insight into dating in honkers, i scheduled drinks with a local. after eating some good chinese food clarence took me to m-bar and was about to leave when my date showed up. during the usual 'how are you' chitchat between them my mankub sensed sumting gossip-worthy and launched into a relentless inquiry of clarences evening plans. i watched in awe of this spirited sparring match between my date and my host. clarence sufficiently ducked and weaved the dozens of jabs and hooks, disclosing nothing.

despite his voracity, both of us were charmed by this chinese-aussies cute accent, his playful rapid-fire teasing, and his sly habit of folding his arms behind his head to display his nice guns. to thicken the plot, it turns out that months earlier clarence had made advances only to be rebuffed. from what ive seen and heard, hk boys play unsophiticated dating games, and this one was no different. humanoids are a self-involved lot and tho he might actually be interested in my host, me thinks he saw disrupting a date an opportunity to test his own desirability and the effectiveness of his charm at full throttle. but when clarence bid us adieu after three drinks it was clear that the main attraction had left the building.

coming home early to update my weblog and check email didnt make me feel especially desirable. but lo and behold who started sweet-messenging me online despite his early am flight to taipei? clearly home dudes impressive flirting repertoire includes post-diss public relations to deflate any bitterness that might soil his reputation. with this kind of drama, who needs hobbies? (on another note and night, dear chuckles: 2 models down...)

the eagle has landed!

breaking news! the eagle most definitely landed today as clarences toilet became my home within a home. tho i am now in honkers, a little bit of bali has stayed with me (lets hope its not a parasite). as you might expect, sightseeing wasnt high on my to-do list today. but i had to step out earlier to fetch a set of keys, which had me gingerly making my way down queens road and hennessey clenching and panicking between potty stops. malls and food courts were oases, dense park foliage was good enough, if need be. i popped two immodium with little effect before i found something very special hidden in my mini first aid kit... a vial of expired ciprofloxacin from my costa rica trip. praise jesus and his emissaries! that and several shots of chivas on ice did the trick. the threat level has been downgraded to orange.

(technical) viet nam photos up

i know ive been naughty. but with a coupla days spent largely indoors, photos from viet nam are finally up. if you would like to view them all without my accompanying quips below, go here. bali is soon to follow.

oh dem bali days

after three nights in an indulgently large, decently furnished, but filthy room, sugiharto made a few calls and got me the indonesian discount at new diggs. the sprawling grounds included a cat-sized lizard swallowing a large fish it caught from the pond... in the states we call this kind of place a zoo.

it was nice getting off the kuta-seminyak stretch of beach for the past coupla days, thanks (as usual) to the generosity of new friends. sugiharto and i toured balis eastern reaches, stopping first in charming ubuds warung ibu oka (mrs. okas foodstall) for delicious babi guling (reportedly the best in bali). this spicy dish of pork strips over white rice with herbs, spices, crunchy white rice and crispy pig skin (and colon) was yummy.

uncomfortably stuffed we drove beside terraced rice paddies and under a canopy of bamboo poles to the highland town of kintamani. driving the periphery of the dramatic 1717 m-high batur volcano i was dumbfounded by the jekyl and hyde t-shirt witch and charred remains of pompeii-ed abodes. eventually we wound down backroads until finding ourselves in the seaside town of candidasa just in time for sundown.
day 2 was temple day, with stops at the island pura at tanah lot, a tour with an 'english'-speaking guide at the impressive pura besakih and a dramatic conclusion of our temple touring with sunset balinese fire dancing at gorgeous uluwatu.

with my bali days nearly over, i switched gears and relaxed with my kl buddies omar, jaime, adam and shan in the posh confines of the khan compound in sanur. 'shalimar' as its known belongs to omars aunt, whose daughter shan showed great hospitality despite my lingering teeth marks on her upper thighs imprinted during our brief encounter in kuala lumpur (i have no recollection of the alleged offense).

sitting in the absurd lap of private villa luxury among cooks, drivers, gardeners, etc., it was initially very uncomfortable. but in short order my prep school roots drank from the pool and seemingly bottomless champagne. i had tasted the lifestyle of the asian leisure class and i liked it. we spent our afternoons half-awake with occasional banter about 'coca-cola,' youthful naughtiness requiring law enforcement bribes and debating the merits of bangkok and hong kong for new years. despite bomb threats in the evening we made our way to ku-de-ta and double-six for a lil dancing. as much as righteous pants wanted to label these fancy folks as brats they were all lovely.

oh the irony. i am eager to tie the 'spoilt' tag around others necks yet im the ass. not only did i enjoy ridiculous villa hospitality in bali, but at virtually every pitstop during my 2+ month holiday ive relied on generous local hosts to cart me around and refuse to let me pay my way. theres a special place in karma hell for ungrateful leeches like me.
more bali photos here.

but some of my best relatives are white

andrew x pham is no longer my friend. despite an entertaining book about biking through asia, which made him feel like the travel buddy i never had, he has revealed himself to be one of those self-loathing asian americans who resent the way mongoloid cultural idiosyncracies prohibit his full inclusion into the glories of whiteness.

at first i thought pham included the early-life hater moments to contrast an immature youth with a triumphant oprah-style, inner-goddess discovery by memoirs end. no such luck. sure, ive been accused of falling into the opposite extreme of overcompensating half-whities who tan, shave our heads and/or adopt subtle ebonics to make our racial allegiances clear. whether you call call it immaturity, internalized racism or tragic mullato-dom, both extremes are lame.

tho ive made peace with god for not making me puerto rican ive still got latent whiteness issues. to this end, asia has been a wonderful respite from caucasia. ive enjoyed more or less fitting into the majority and beauty norms while avoiding the plague of american, european and (worst of all) aussie backpackers. but today im in westerner-friendly bali in that ubiquitous caucasoid hotspot called the high speed internet cafe. im reflexively annoyed by my white brothers and sisters and am eager to see behavior that confirms my worst expectations.

too often i see arrogant whiteys making no attempt to adapt to the cultural morés of their host environment. i dont know if this behavior is due to racism, colonialism, the great schism or just centuries of expecting servile bows from the brown-skinded, but im eager to know how the chinese behave in europe, since the total lack of humility or respect from many white types in asia is bewildering.

my inner half-white hater isnt resentment for looking funny or for koreans thinking im mexican. being mixed and self-conscious has made race a huge part of my daily life and the typical 'im colorblind' racial oblivion of your average usa white bread is so foreign and insulting to me that im aghast at folks thinking im in cahoots with them. the way most white people casually dismiss the painful and profound journey of living, understanding and processing how racism impacts many of us is dehumanizing.

i think its very un-western to accept that you cant relate. the importance of 'relating' seems awfully self-involved, as if witnessing genuine grief shouldnt be enough 'proof'. it isnt coincidence that the white friends i have generally accept they cannot fully comprehend racisms impact but respect my 'quirky' sensitivities because they respect me. right or wrong if they show any skepticism i distrust them and pull away.

the things that really push my buttons are usually the areas of my life that are unresolved. race and pants remains a work in progress. andy phams book is most disappointing because he seems oblivious to his immaturity and the futility of his desperate quest for whiteness. oh, asian americans!
more bali photos here.

bali memorial

its four years to the day that a javanese man with a bomb stashed in his backpack exploded it while inside a nightclub on busy jalan legian, an area popular with tourists. seconds later as frightened people poured into the streets a car bomb was detonated. combined the blasts killed 202 (injuring 209 more), the bulk of whom were australians. it was the deadliest terrorist act in indonesias history. another 23 people were killed in bali after a series of bombs exploded here a year ago. to commemorate the blasts, today a wide strip of white cloth blanketed the several kilometers of road that connected the two bombing sites, a white shroud to commemorate the dead.
more bali photos here.

pura pura pura!

retrospective posting is always a bad idea, mostly because the once vivid details are lost so im left with only fuzzy overarching themes. but pants hasnt been in much of a writing mood of late so no luck and here goes.

i felt full and weird walking along the beach from seminyak to kuta a few minutes after arriving in bali. it wasnt outright sadness but i felt on the verge of many emotions heightened by this distinct change of scenery. the beach felt like tourist central with its painfully-red westerners, fast food and other manifestations of foreigner detritus.

despite this tacky foreign consumer-driven culture that pervades a small area of bali, i also couldnt help but notice the spirituality of the place. bali is a tiny hindu enclave inside the worlds largest muslim country. signs of this are everywhere in ornate pura (temples), and the sesajen (banana leaves folded into square receptacles that might contain flowers, candy and/or incense) that are placed at the entrances to small shops and fancy hotels alike. these spiritual offerings are in addition to the larger plangkiran and banten, which are permanent shrines located in and outside structures. my chinese-javanese buddy sugiharto explained that whereas javanese often try to exorcise harmful spirits from their dwellings, balinese people prefer to make offerings as a way of compromising and coexisting with them. (sounds like a helpful philosophy in a tourist-driven economy.)

as ive more or less come to the conclusion that im a full fledged atheist (agnosticism is for wimps), this feels like a strange place to pronounce it. in the states, judeo-christianity too often seems relegated to the weekends and bigots. here in bali, the ubiquitous spiritual expressions on doorsteps, in garb and ceremony, create an integrated and peaceful contrast to a disorienting world.
more bali photos here.

saigon samanthas homo hotspots

kris met hieu on a previous trip to saigon and returned the favor when hieu visited bangkok months later. hours after landing in viet nam, our local host met us and began several days of amazing eats and generous hospitality, southeast asian style.

our first stop was highlands coffee, a starbucks-inspired establishment in a country thats thwarted that beheamouths bid for total world domination. we ordered avocado shakes, viet iced coffee and pomelo juice while rotating ipods tuned to our favorite songs- nina simone, eva cassidy and thai singer kam tam ti tong tob. scanning the premises we saw the universal sign of a homo hotspot- smartly coifed young men vogueing and scanning the room for eye candy (takes one to know one). as we watched hieu wave and chat with most of the clientele, we giggled like school girls, honored that we were the guests of the unofficial mayor of homo chi minh city.

saigons underground community of 'bolos' (shorthand for bong lo or homosexuals) doesnt hold two snaps to other big asian cities. yet under the auspices of our seasoned sister, we penetrated the tunnels of viet nams rainbow underworld. case in point (and since we were always eating) was our exclusive meal at tuans, hcmcs only private restaurant (outside the hotels). owned by hieus gay friend, its small, tasteful, yellow-walled interiors were complemented by scurrying geckos and a large tree in the courtyard laden with football-sized jackfruit. it was here where i muched on some duck neck and started photographing urinals, the colorful fruity pebbles too irresistible to ignore. a centipede raced beneath the potty, which reminded me of the kuala lumpur rapid transit system. i keep forgetting what country im in. im becoming cuckoo.

from tuans we made way to samsara, hcmcs only gay club. hieu warned us that people would stare... and how! the response to our entry would put the imperial crier to shame. every head turned in our direction as fresh meat was delivered to a very rancid butchershop. that sounds horrible. what i mean is homo ho chi minh is small and incestuous and everyone knew we were newbies. the rest of the night was spent pretending to not be really weirded out by the brazen penetrating stares, the desperate longings of lonely aging men, and the shameless grabs and pokes by club princesses.

not that it was all bad. i sat in awe of the *entire* clubs impassioned sing-along to 'take me home,' fumbling alongside my viet brothers who sang confidently about west virginia and country mamas. plus, attention is often fun and viet nam is home to some very very pretty boys, collectively the best looking ive seen in asia so far.

hieus a looker himself, and his gym-buffed 5'11 presence is conspicuous among his typically shorter and svelt comardes. he is neither flamboyant nor passionate about lgbt issues, yet of all the asian queers ive met in asia, he is the only one out to his parents and i felt none of the awkwardness around being gay that radiates from virtually everyone else ive met to date. during a memorable conversation about why he remains single he noted his pirated collection of sex and the city dvds and his particular affection for samantha... without further delay, we introduce saigon samantha.

im almost giddy at the thought of living/working here for a time, tho the countrys stifling homo climate gives me pause. sure america hates homos, but except for a few pockets of persistent internalized homophobia, im out and proud back home and wouldnt take kindly to being shoved back into the closet. lots to mull over. meanwhile, i close with a snapshot of what is already an asian tour 2006 highlight:

on my final night in viet nam, the pretty saigon boys took me on their wild club hopping ride under the bright full moon of the mid-autumn festival. after 3 clubs and 1 pho break, the 10 of us distributed ourselves onto 4 motorbikes and did our final laps atop ho chi minh villes spectacularly empty streets at 4 am. as our sweat-drenched bodies became dry thanks to the delightful 40 mph rush of early morning air, hoots and hollers narrated a dangerous game of moped chicken while a hot potato exchange of cell phones, cameras and the occasional titty twisting raised the stakes. but as late friday yielded to early saturday our nightly hijinx came to an end. one by one each bike veered off the main drag, its passengers waving a carefree, understated goodbye. mine was last and i couldnt help feeling both fulfilled and a lil sad.

its both sad and ironically liberating that a conspicuous crew of young queers out on the town aroused no suspicion or harrassment since we were in a place where homosexuality is so repressed as to not exist. as always, its lifes pesky transitions that cause the greatest grief and glory.
more viet nam photos here.

tam biet and adieu

im back in solo mode after travel homie flew home to bkk last night. its my last full day in viet nam and i was quite content to spend it in windowless rm #903 of the lan lan 2 hotel, sleeping in, catching up on my weblog and reading more of andrew x phams entertaining book.

but this afternoon mr hieu stole me from my hermetic retreat and we gobbled some yummy street fare (i passed on the pigs ear strips but the mushroom-y balls that explode into mini morsels were fun) and then made an obligatory stop at highlands coffee where i had the honor to meet cindy, a fabulous post-op transsexual who is vietnams lgbt freedom fighter. she became the first to publicly out herself to the media when she fought to have her id card changed to reflect her female gender identity (no word yet). i guess she has a german boyfriend who tells her shes more of a woman than anyone hes previously dated.

deep in my food coma, i napped while the bloomberg channel described perus stock market miracle. some minutes later hieu picked me up encore and i got my hair clipped helluh short (my ocd too acute) followed by a fresh milk facial (not that kind u dirty homos) along with an uncomfortable scalp massagẹ by a lady with really long nails. tonights plans are predictable: dinner with minh and make haste for one more samsara hurrah! somewhere in-between i want to check out all of the cute kids out en masse who are celebrating tonights moon festival.

i havent processed my departure yet (my scalp and face are awfully tight), but unless some hackneyed insight compels me to pen something manana, i guess nows a good time to bid tam biet and adieu to everyone who has viet nam such a remarkable pomelo patch of experiences: my travel buddy kris, our charming and gracious saigon host hieu, minh, binh, tony, my, playboy ngoc and the pretty pretty boys of samsara. up north, god bless hanoi lam, tii, anh, the halong bay kiwis and the irresistible staff of the hong ngoc 2 hotel. all yall will be missed. and dont worry, like the sign said, the world truly does support viet nam in its resistance.

tomorrow ill take an evening flight to hong kong and spend most of my 12-hour layover at casa de clarence before heading to bali in the morn. that sounds nice.
more viet nam photos here.