truly fragrant

im back in asia after almost 5 months away. its good to be back. because it didnt cost more, i scheduled my flight to allow a few hours to putz about in hong kong before leaving for seoul tonight. after de-planeing, it was but a few short minutes through immigration and customs to the bag check, where i left my backpack, fetched hong kong dollars from the atm and proceded to the airport express, which whisks ya to the central mtr station in less than 30 mins. international travel can be so easy.

im writing from a free internet kiosk on victorias peak, a tourist trap wonderland high above hong kong. the spectacular views of highrises flanking victoria harbour are obscured a bit by thick clouds, but its still nice. and tho the weather is actually quite lovely, ive been reacquainted with asias humidity and am thankful for the misty cool up here. after heading back down ill spend the next few hours shopping, visiting a photography exhibit at the visual arts center (from china to italy on a motorcycle) and then will head to admiralty to have lunch with a korean/chinese guy with a black mans name.

i have had basically no emotional reaction to leaving the states or being back in asia, which is weird. no nostalgia, sadness or trepidation. what i did recall upon emerging from the central hk mtr stop was asias smell. its the pungent mix of food, vehicle exhaust and laundry, and the conspicuous absence of natural smells and body odor/perfume. the heavy humidity holds these smells closer to the earth and doesnt let them escape into the ether. for now im ok with that.

on another note, once in seoul i shall bid pop-id adieu. its been real but pants is moving on. stay tuned for the new url.

xo pants

update: the exhibit was pretty fantastic. the italian vagabond was there in the flesh to detail his exploits. i wanted to exchange stories about pakistan with him but didnt. his photos helped push kashgar (tibet), iran and turkey to the top of my travel list. anybody want to join me? the traditional cantonese dim sum at pacific place was yummy. i think the zung ju gai (glutinous rice with pork wrapped in a lotus leaf) was my favorite. so glad for the hk layover.

pink plastic

it was a hectic 41 hours between arriving back in chicago and leaving for san francisco. no surprise most of it was spent packing, cleaning and squeezing the most facetime possible with my lil quapa monster (aka zuzu). i had to spurn (most of) my thrifty urges to pack things like nyquil, q-tips and the like... saving a couple bucks at the expense of another suitcase aint worth it and i hear they also have medicine and ear wax in asia.

its been a couple of years since ive visited sf and im really enjoying it. i love to hate this place, but even if the people are smug, the topography is undeniably beautiful and the weather is a step up from seattle. this morning i jogged along the embarcadero until i hit fort mason and wound my way back beside the cable cars on bay, hyde and lombard streets, thru chinatown and back towards touristy union square. the hills provide delicious lookouts for city planning dorks like me. thanks to sweet pinoy danny, i also enjoyed spectacular views of the city from a drizzly twin peaks and of the pacific ocean from the blustery cliffs of lands end.

i think i read that plastic grocery bags are banned here. yet while reading a plaque about the previous renderings of union square a pink plastic bag imprinted with a red rose and the words 'thank you' kept swirling around me. the bags haphazard dance, audacious color and illegality reminded me of sfs conspicuous mentally ill homeless population and the very volatile feel of downtown. when armageddon comes, its coming here first. the evangelicals have said as much.

lately i get confused about where i am. nyc? hong kong? but in a few short hours ill be seoulbound on a cathay pacific 747. hopefully another locale wont exacerbate my confusion.

a suggestion longing for companionship

im in a comfortable rental apartment in nycs upper west side listening as the ac unit propped under my bedroom window stops raindrop freefall. with 8 inches falling in just 24 hours, its nycs wettest day on record. rain like this is a good meditation on letting go and accepting greater forces than your own. yes, im very wet and uncomfortable, yes with every step my new pretty shoes become trash, but life really aint so hard.

being alone in an apt (as opposed to a hotel room) reminds me of my recent past in seattle and my near future in seoul. over the past few months in chicago ive become accustomed to the sounds of someone else in the kitchen, someone else changing tv channels or my nieces sleepy breathing over the baby monitor. but when alone, its just me and mother nature who decide when/what noise is made and this largely quiet, controlled environment is the sound of independence. of all the senses, i think sound is what i most associate with loneliness... with touch a close second. tho loneliness has been a recurring theme im still not sure if i am. 'independent' sounds better anyway ;)

tonight i had dinner with a good guy i met two nights prior when cuz and i met up with chuckles, cindybro, justin and co. over moist peruvian meats we shared a conversation laden with personal content and virtually void of alcohol. this mix conceived a different, often serious vibe not typically associated with a flirting-our-way-into-each-others-pants routine. what was typical however was my exaggerated disappointment with where things were left, my pondering about whatifs, and me wondering why im so eager for obsessive/exclusive puppy love... perhaps i should rebrand it as 'hopeless romanticism'? ah, words.

on that note lately ive been imagining how appearance / behavior / mannerisms translate 10-20 years down the road. when the 20-something diagnoses his over intellectualization of emotions it sounds like self-awareness... 10 years later does it sound more like regret and translate into a cold, emotionally disconnected father? does the angsty quarter life-crisis blogger become the boring, self-involved loser who needs to get a job? is it already too late?

since im attracted to quasi-empirical projects i should make a chart split into two columns. on the left is your age, on the right are common cliches particular to that age. ex: age 25 <--> im insecure about my lack of accomplishments and nostalgic for my youth. resolved these feelings at 23? congrats, youre slightly ahead of your time! thinking/living this popular cliche at 28? uhoh, youre slipping into loserville. my chart may not be super complicated or compassionate, but its not my fault we hominids are a predictable lot.

a reunion of sorts

several of my family members converged on nyc this weekend for a friends wedding. it also so happens that i have more friends living in the big apple than anywhere else save seattle. bringing cousin lisa/jayne/cybil together with a former coworker, ex, volunteer and a coupla handsome new asian dudes for dinner, drinks and dancing was a hoot.

i wanted to see you before you die

its been a surreal two days as an unfamiliar bout of anxiety has swirled in my tum. typically i welcome these collaborative physical/emotional reactions but this time theyve made me feel uncharacteristically out of control.

this evening i ate bad thai food on the culver city side of venice with my friend nancy. we had just returned from canyon country where we visited our friend. she was lucid and upbeat despite pain meds and what we were told are the waning days of stage 4 breast cancer. as always our girl was vivacious and bossy, impulsive and wise, apologetic, emotional and loving. not that i was expecting an elaborate mourning ceremony, but her matter-of-fact words about dying while we enjoyed champagne and watched the magic flick 'the prestige' were unexpected. i kept hearing myself tell her, 'i wanted to see you before i move to korea' instead of 'i wanted to see you before you die'. she would have been ok with me not being wimpy and saying the latter. its rare that being somewhere/doing something feels perfect.

the joy of flying

heres a report on the oft-bemoaned state of us air travel. i just returned on american airlines #1400 from lax to ord. first off, there wasnt a seat to spare. second, despite the 4 hour duration, they didnt even give us pretzels, tho they were pleased to offer us complimentary beverage service (rad!) and the opportunity to buy a snickerdoodle cookie for $3. third, for $2 i could have purchased headphones (ours to keep!) to watch renee zellwiger playing a hallucinating bunny-drawing lady in what appears to be the worst movie ever made.

the best part of my flight however was the strong and unmistakable smell of human urine around (on?) my seat. i maxed out the air stream above my seat in the only somewhat successful attempt to push the pee aroma elsewhere. in case #1 wasnt enough a persistent fart stench kept wafting my way. at home such an odor has me asking my niece if she has a bumbum in her diaper. i fantasized about standing up and announcing, 'whoever it is, stop farting. the bathroom is 2 rows away, you disgust me!' i have no idea why writing that made me think of forrest whitakers performance of idi amin in 'the last king of scotland'. whatever, im embracing it.