Good Afternoon, Vietnam

"Someday this trip's gonna end..."

Yep, but I still got 10 days or so in Vietnam, so I guess it's, Good Afternoon, Vietnam and Bon Voyage, Malaysia. It was about time, anyways, since there wasn't much to report following our climb up Mt. Kinabalu and Kuala Lumpur was kind of a get-over after our mountain-climbing exhaustion. It's now well in the rearview and Vietnam is the country du jour.

Which is cool in a lot of ways—the food is better here, it's hotter (nice change of pace), it's way easier to walk around then KL (KL is almost like Asia's LA version of urban sprawl, absolutely painful when your legs are putty).

Also, Vietnam's way more lively (motorbikes honking literally every 0.002 seconds) and has a way cheaper cost of living, which is obviously great. That said, no one really speaks English here (if they do, it's pretty broken) and people are friendly, but not quite as much as the Malays. All and all, though, we are pumped to be here for something new and Vietnamese-y, especially because they have Pho, which is like one of the top 3 reasons we came for this:


Goin on Day No. 3 here in Hanoi. It's about 5pm, pretty much the usual time the heat catches up to you and forces you back into somewhere aircon. 3 of Logan's friends from the States got in this morning—they've been past out for the last few hours, a lot of their tiredness attributed to hot, hot, heat.

Right now I'm sitting in our luxurious room drowning out the insanely loud sounds of construction at our hotel. Even with headphones, I'd say the ratio is about 70-30 construction noise-to-music, but that's really the only complaint we have, we're paying $9 bucks a night for a full on hotel with aircon, TV, balcony, whatever. It's pretty posh, minus the renovations goin on right now.

This city is weird, super compact considering it is made up of 3.5 million Hanoiers. The streets are small and blend together, making it nearly impossible to walk around without getting lost (getting lost has been our main tourist pasttime here). After 3 days, we really haven't done all that much short of walking around and getting lost. This morning, we tried to make it to Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum (where the big guy was mummified), leaving at 945am to make the 1030am closing. 45 minutes = not nearly enough. We're too stingy to go the taxi/motorbike route, so the byproduct is walking, walking some more and not actually accomplishing anything besides getting lost (which we've been more than happy doing).

(The closest we will probably ever get to Ho Chi Minh, maybe next time)

Life in Hanoi on the whole for us has been super low-key, partly because of the weather, too. The average high is probably 40 celsius, which is like 160-degrees fahrenheit. At night, things don't get much cooler—and we just get lazier to really see things because the World Cup games start at 6pm. It's led to a lot of pit stops at our hotel to get a little AC time (and the only place we kinda know how to get to) and a lot of hanging out and watching soccer at half-empty restaurants. No complaints at all.

Perhaps most interestingly (to us, anyways) because of the heat, we've also taken to walking around without our shirts a good percentage of the time and get absolutely startled looks from locals (even though 1 out of 5 Vietnamese is sitting around doing nothing without their shirts). People laugh or point, stare or look away, some people motioning and telling me in Vietnamese to put our shirts back on, others tell their friends and then point, stare, etc. It's weird and awesome. I'm not sure if it's because they are offended (a ginormous urban city, you think they've seen some white guys without shirts) or what, but either way, it's hilarious.

Our general consensus is that they are totally confused/appalled by our chest hair. In the last two days since we started goin shirtless, one guy blatantly tried to yank and pull on my chest hair before I jumped away. And then this afternoon, some dude patted Logan on the stomach as he walked by him on the street. Between the pulling, patting, staring, laughing, etc, something is definitely up, we just don't know what it is yet. Gotta be the chest hair, though—really, that's the only difference between us shirtless Americans and shirtless Hanoiese.

(Put a shirt on white guys or get the hell out of Vietnam)

As you can tell from that anecdote, our time really has been spent super leisurely here. We did make it to one touristy-type thing—the Hanoi Hilton, which was a French colonial prison in the late 19th century for uppity, revolutionary Viets and then became a POW hangout for US soldiers during our happy stay in Vietnam in the 60s and 70s.

The whole thing was about a 45 minute trip with some OK relics, most notably a couple cells (pretty boring) and a guillotine that the French used in Vietnam after they were outlawed in France (pretty awesome) along with the prerequisite pictures of 3 heads in a basket of Viets that the French were just not that into (pretty gruesome).

Other highlights: a bunch of pro-Viet propoganda and pictures about how nice living conditions were for US POWs, with the pictures to prove it, from Xmas celebrations, to playing basketball and volleyball, to raising chickens and writing poetry. Basically, they make it out to be paradise, or at the very least, Club Med, Hanoi Edition.

And if that's not enough...John McCain's military uniform has been preserved and put up there, too! Which is totally crap, by the way---there's no way they held onto it for 30 years when he was just some schmuck Senator from Arizona, banking on him running for President and becoming famous. Nice try, Vietnam Tourism people. There are, though, a couple of super sick phot/action shots of McCain, too, looking deathly ill on a POW cot. McCain is everywhere! Basically, if you are a John McCain junky, make sure you make the pilgrimage to the Hanoi Hilton.

(McCain Doin Work)

Other than that, our time is spent walking and avoiding getting hit by the 40 billion motorbikes (every walk across the street is an awesome game of Frogger come to life), which is a fun skill to hone. Motorbikes are like water just flowing out of a faucet on every street. To sum up, two nights ago, I took a picture of a hunched over 50-something year old crossing the street...I looked back 2 seconds later and he was on the ground, after a motorbike clipped him. He was not happy and was still yelling Viet obsencities are we walked away a few minutes later.

(Pretty much an off-day at the Old Quarter roundabout, which is like a 1 minute walk from our Hotel and where we get our Frogger real-life fix)

Eating is our other true pasttime. Food here is like $1-3 a meal, so I've just taken to eating a couple of entrees at most meals and just wracking up bills. Thankfully, I haven't gotten fat yet. Anyways, that's Hanoi in a nutshell so far. We'll probably be here for one more day until we head to Halong Bay for a 3 day boat/island hopping trip 2 hours north of here that is supposedly legendary/must do tourist stuff for the region. You sleep on a boat for a night, too I'm amped about.

(Supposedly Halong Bay and the sleeper boats you crash on)

Check in soon, will throw up some KL pictures soon.

Til Next time, Go Celtics but mostly, Go USA (tomorrow vs. Slovenia!)
Love,
Jack

Conquering Kinabalu, THE PEAK

U-S-A.!!! U-S-A!!

2 hours from more World Cup madness, I'm lying here in the dark in KL, Malaysia anxiously awaiting the US-England match...Logan is in the bunk on top of me trying to sleep, hoping to get a couple hours of rest before Team Freedom shocks Team Cornwallis and the world and declares independence (again).

We hoped to watch with some rowdy UKers (KL is filled with them), but since the game is going to be on at about 3am local time, those hopes got squashed. Should be an interesting day, either way --- we're scheduled to go to Melaka (a UNESCO heritage site/city 2 hours south) at around 8am, but with the game, lack of sleep, etc, that might be quite ambitious.

Anyways, picking up where I left off...KINABALU, our own personal Everest.

After the 6km ascent to Laban Rata lodge, we woke up at 2am to prep for the summit ascent. Predictably, Ester (our nearly albino Dutch roommate/travel partner/nemesis) had to wake up earlier because she was leaving before us. She asked me to set my alarm for 1:30am, even though we didn't have to wake up until 2:20 or so. Whatever, no biggie. Of course I will, Ester.

Upon hearing that we wouldn't be leaving until 3am, Ester predictably responded, "Oh. You are leaving at 3? You won't make it to the top for the sunrise, then." Hmmmm. Just another semi-smug statement from Ester we'd get to prove wrong.

Anyways, Ester scurried out to climb a little after 2, right around when me and Logan headed down for breakfast, stocking up on bare essential carbs (breads, fruits, a pancake or two) to get the requisite energy. Nothing special here. After some more stretching and pill popping we're just about ready to go.

The big concern before heading out at 3 in the morning, though, is the supposedly freezing cold. Most people had the standard issue mountain/ski gear (they were rich and well-prepared), with big ass hoodies and pants and longjohns and hats and what have you.

Me and Logan were not as well prepped. He had 4 layers, none of them particularly substantial (a couple shirts, a long sleeve shirt and a windbreaker). I had 4 layers as well (a couple T-shirts, a long sleeve shirt I stole from my 5-foot-2 buddy Yen that didn't cover my belly button, and my trusty American Apparel hoody. And as been well documented, I had shorts).

Probably the coolest piece of apparel we both sported was our gloves --- while everyone else had REI or Northface ski gloves, we just used a pair of white socks as makeshift gloves. We were emptying out our luggage to find any warmth we could, essentially like the bobsledders from Cool Runnings.


Last note on equipment: the night before, I was hanging with a Norwegian couple and this woman Ingrid was talking about bringing one of the lodges blankets to stay warm once we hit the top. The last thing I wanted to do was hit the top and not enjoy it because of the cold, so I impressed this idea on Logan, so we both may have been totally unprepared otherwise, but were smart enough to haul blankets up...this would prove to be a stroke of American genius.

Finally, after all that, at 3am, we (the trio of me, Logan and Azham, our 11-fingered guide extraordinare) were out the door of Laban Rata headed to the top, the last ones to leave. We were moving quickly, so much so that after 5 minutes we were sweating way too much, so me and Logan elected to take off a couple layers and do the climb with just a shirt and sweater, with socks on our hands. Couldn't have been much more California.

The next 2 or so hours were pretty much the same: us moving fairly quickly, running into a group of people and trying to get by them to make good time so we'd make the sunrise. Over this time, depending on how steep the grade was, you would need to hold onto a rope to make your way up. This was somewhat scary at first, not being able to see a thing past your flashlight, convincing yourself easily that a wrong move and you're off the side of the mountain (not the case, but easy to think). I thought to ask Azham if anyone had ever died on the night ascent, but then I figured for how many people had made the climb, surely someone had, so I figured it better to keep my question to myself.

Anyways, we just kept working and working, following a trail of dozens of lights up and out in the distance that we we're trying to catch up to. Lots of stepping and some agony (but mostly just good work) later, we made it. Once we did, we settled in at the top, though, only wearing 2 layers caught up to us, kinda. It was freakin freezing.

Luckily, we had the blankets, so we took our seats and settled in, getting a good 30 or 40 minutes of peak time when most people only took the standard issue picture and got out of dodge back down the mountain. Not that it wasn't still freezing, but we were comfortable enough to endure, which definitely wouldn't have been the case sans blankets.

After hunkering in, we waited for the sun, cracked open a couple victory cigars (two chocolate chip Chewy bars that Logan smuggled in from the states), played some music (Sigur Ros and Logan couldn't resist Here Comes the Sun hahaha) and tried to soak it in (and forget that there was about a 4,000 foot drop about a foot away from us). All and all, it was definitely one of the most satisfying moments I've ever had.

Now I'll just shut up and throw some pictures up from the moments after we made it and going back down, which was fun to do a bit more leisurely and just take as many pictures as I could muster with my buddy Yen's lens. Blessed me. And away we go.

We made it, but it isn't pretty (or warm)
The sunrise in 4 acts



Doing anything I can to stave off frostbite at the top

Ester the Extraordinary

Some dude looking epic (pretty sure he knew I was taking a picture of him, so he posed)

The mountain looking epic

X2

The peak doing its best Groundhog and showing off its shadow

Azham giving the thumbs up and looking casually epic

Us not looking so epic

On the way down

Anyways, that was it in a nutshell. I'll throw some more pictures up, but you get the gist. After the sunrise, we walked down 2.5k to get a second breakfast and our stuff. Then it was an hour nap and then a break neck pace down the last 6k for more exhaustion and sweating. We made it, with a few scratches and a couple rolled ankles. But nothing more the day-to-day injuries. So that's that, mission accomplished. Will throw up more pictures hopefully as I get bored.

Until then, "were team USA...and we're goin all the way."
Love,
Jack

Conquering Kinabalu, Day 1

We lived!
And we owned everyone, including this stupid mountain:
I even laughed in the face on the mountain. Ha-ha!
In all, the 26-hour, 17 kilometer odyssey (started at 945am on Monday morning, hit the top at 530am on Tuesday morning and finally finished at noon on Tuesday afternoon) was probably the most difficult thing either of us had ever done. I told Logan it was probably the biggest accomplishment of our lives (he was more non-commital, but still, kinda a big deal). To recap as briefly as possible:

Monday
945am to 1245pm: 6km straight up, right to Laban Ratan (our lodge)

Tuesday
3am to 515am: 2.5km super-straight up (ropes mostly required) --- 40 minute rest at top for sunrise
6am to 8am: 2.5km super-straight down.
10am to 12pm: 6km down further.

The end.

In sum, about 9 hours of intense hiking action for roughly 40 minutes of total satisfaction (some people only stayed at the top for like 5 minutes, it was so cold!), with lack of sleep and absolute physical exhaustion thrown in for good measure.

And today as I write this, our legs are totally crippled, it feels like someone's just been punching them non-stop for the last 24 hours, never been this sore in my life. At our hostel in KK today (the day after the climb), our room was on the 4th floor and it might as well been on the 40th, it seemed that freakin far. It probably took me about 2 minutes to get to the lobby on the 2nd floor (no more than 50 steps) because I had to make sure I had a hand on the railing and that both feet were planted firmly on each step, step by step, giving me the walking skills of either an infant or an 125-year old man.

But all the day-after aches, all the waddling like a penguin, all the weird looks today from strangers at the food court or on the bus or on the airport stairs boarding and getting off the plane, all of them wondering why you are taking forever to take one measly step, all of it --- it was all worth it.

And for the record, we did the 6km climb up in 3 hours (it's supposed to take like 5 or 6), passing what Logan estimated as 80 people (most with walking sticks, full on hiking gear, the works) along the way and getting to our hotel at Laban Rata in the first handful of people up.

And also for the record, we were the last group to leave for the summit at 3am (after like 160 other people), but in the first dozen or so to the top, staking out the prime seats for the sunrise.

Just proof that with enough will, some music (my iPhone speaker was on blast the entire way up), a couple high-fives from strangers and loads and loads of painkillers, you can do anything! Yep, we owned everyone. Here's our reward for being such baller mountain climbers:
So I guess I'll start from the night before we climbed, since there's some stuff in there I want to remember. I'll try to be as concise as possible, but you know how that goes.

SUNDAY NIGHT
10pm: The night before. After blogging about the climb, I feel roughly like I do before a final: outwardly anxious and focused on what could go wrong (really, Stan Smiths and shorts?!), but subconsciously, pretty confident. A little worried about my back holding up (and needing like a gazillion surgeries down the road), but all and all, me and Logan are pretty sturdy, so no reason to really fret. Got 'emz.

We decide to make sure we get all packed up the night before. 530am wake-up call (I need to stretch and pop some pills a little early to prep), so we want to be good to go in the morning.

But before, I head over to our Taiwanese friends Yen's room to grab his flashlight (the 2.5km to the top is in the dark). Along the way, I muster up the courage to ask if I can borrow his Nikon 18-105 lens for the climb (forgot to mention that I broke my wide-angle lens on Day 2 in Dumaguete, something I was bummed about, considering the real reason I brought my camera was for the Kinabalu climb. Standard idiot move).

Yen is the nicest guy ever, so of course he says yes. I give him my 55-200 zoom lens in return. 30 minutes later, he comes to ask for my laptop as collateral. No problem. I'm amped, I get to take pictures!

12-1am-ish: Still pumped. As we go to sleep, I'm pretty anxious. I tell Logan it feels kinda like the night before Christmas. I totally forgot he was Jewish, so he doesn't really acknowledge me. Oops. Whatever, we're still pretty pumped. Les go!

MONDAY
530am: Wake up, do the requisite pills and stretch. Grab a quick breakfast (we're carbo-loading on the hostels free white toast and papaya) and out the door with Ester, our Dutch climbing companion and default partner-in-climb, who neither of us are entirely fond of.

A word on Ester: Our first night in KK, we ate with her at the night market, and realized pretty quickly we didn't mesh that well --- she was into awkward stares, putting packets of sugar on every she eats and just making us feel generally uncomfortable. And turned out she was climbing the mountain the same day as us. Someone to share a taxi with, we thought, but maybe not someone to climb up the mountain with or stay overnight at Laban Rata with (or so we thought, more on this later).

7am: The three of us hop in our taxi headed for the base of Mt. Kinabalu at the KK Park HQ. A Malaysian morning-show plays on the radio. Everyone fades in and out of sleep. The cabbie named Chong stops for gas. He pays 30 ringgits. He is getting 48 riggits to drive us 1.5 hours to the mountain. His net is 18 ringgits (like $6 bucks US). I think this is a bad deal for him.

Here's Logan getting pumped for the climb in the taxi:
9am: Make it to the Park HQ for check in. Logan is doing most of the heavy lifting, figuring out paper work and running us from place to place. I am AWOL, trying to get some stretching in before we go. Definitely worrying about having to carry a backpack of clothes and fatty camera (not to mention the 4 liters of water in Philson, our travel companion that I'm determined to bring to the top) straight up 8km. My back is pissed.

915am: We meet Azham, our guide and sage for the next 26 hours. He's short, friendly, soft spoken and I think he vaguely resembles Manny Pacquio. He also has a sixth finger on his right hand right below his thumb that sort of resembles another pinky. Logan names him "Alfonseca" after the great relief pitcher for the Marlins and Cubs (his name was Antonio Alfonseca), who threw 95 MPH and also had six fingers on his throwing hand.

920am: After stretching alone for a few minutes, I walk back to Logan and the rest of our group. He has a look on his face like he has something to say, only I'm not gonna like it. His look says it all: Ester is climbing with us. She asked to join us and Azham for 40 ringgits (she didn't have a guide and you are required to have one), he couldn't say no. I agree. Even still, 5-6 potential hours is looking more painful now, especially since we can actually see the Mt. and it looks taller:

930am: Short drive to the start of the trail. We make it without crashing (a couple of close calls on the windy roads). We get out. Logan sees some scrawny, Korean guy in some brand new black Chuck Taylor's getting ready to go up.

"If that dude can do it in Converse, I can definitely do it in Stan Smiths," he says. Good point.

945am: The journey begins!

We walk 5 minutes or so and then find some Australians hiking and start celebrating a little early. "We made it!" They thought we were serious for a couple seconds and then laugh. We head forward, Logan in the front, Ester in the middle, me staying behind with Azham following. This formation wouldn't last.
10am: Ester is already starting to lag. The night before, as she waxed her hiking boots in preparation for rain ("Well, it's definitely going to rain," she declared like a meterologist, a prophecy that didn't come to pass), she smuggly asks me if I am a fast walker, the thin grin on her face implying that she's gonna smoke me or something. Phhh. Fat chance, Ester.

Shortly after I pass her, me and Logan have to wait a couple minutes for her and Azham to catch up (since he is obligated to follow behind the slowest person in the group). "You are fast walkers," she concedes.

We take a break for some reason after barely starting. Azham and the other guides (who could cllimb Kinabalu in their sleep) discuss how all the tourists that climb Kinabalu are slow and unfit and fat:
1010am: We hit the 1km mark. Ester says we can go ahead without her, so we do, kinda forgetting to say goodbye. She stays back with Azham. Sorry, Azham. We take a photo to celebrate:
1030am: The next few km are just a blur. Me and Logan start playing six-degrees-of-separation games with NBA players to pass time. This helps. So does the music from my iPod. Between those two things, we knock out the next 3 km pretty tidily, easily passing the halfway mark (which is pictured below, where I was already covered in sweat and gasping for air)

The mist of the mountains gives Logan gray hair, as he angrily ponders why he decided to do this:
The jungle we slayed
1115am: 4km mark. Water break. I decide to have a cigarette (from Indonesia!) with this Malaysian dude name Fad (cool guy), just to see how it feels at high altitude, here he is with his friend/possible son
It's pretty rough, I stumble and almost fall backwards my next couple steps. Bad decision. The trek continues, but not before we take a picture and celebrate prematurely, a rookie move
The final 2km were what you would expect, just tough work, where you feel each step more and more and the final destination seems like it will never, ever come.

0.5km left, brink of collapse
1245pm: The end (of at least the first leg) finally comes. After 6km, there's nothing but relief, even with 11km left in the next 24 hours. Anything is posssibbbbleeee!!! Our lodge is finally upon us
And Philson made it too
2pm: Settle in at Laban Rata. Very nice, good looking buffet. Our accomodations
Me celebrating on the porch by getting rid of my sweaty ass shirt and taking a picture
230pm: Good news: The hot water for the showers works. Bad news: Ester is staying with us. Still not sure how this is possible, since the dorms were separated between men/women, but we don't protest, accepting our fate handed down by the mountain gods.

5pm: Fat buffet. We do work (predictably).

7pm: Everyone scurries off to go to bed for the early wake-up call at 2am. I'm not really tired, so I hang out on the porch with a Norwegian couple and smoke Norwegian cigarettes with them. There is an awesome lightning storm show that we have a cool view of, here's the porch sans lightning:
9pm: Lightning stops. Lights at lodge are all out. Go to sleep for three hours. Wake up at 12am. Sit and bed for a while and wake til the 2am rise-and-shine.

I guess that's where I'll stop for now, on to the top tomorrow, since my legs are shot and I'll probably be bed-ridden most of the day (I promise more pictures, less words).

Quick Update: Gosh darn, it's already 4am here in KL (Kuala Lumpur). Just got in tonight, staying at the Reggae House 2, which was so popular, they made a second one. We got lucky at showed up at their door at 130am (Reggae 1 was full on booked) and the place is gorgeously modern and clean.

There was nothing left for us in KK, anyways --- the last image that I have of it was a little kid peeing into the top of sewer on the street as we walked by a block from our hostel, only to watch his friends play hopscotch over it. "If you lose, you fall in the pee," Logan said excitedly. HAHAHA. Not like KK was even that kind of kids-peeing-in-the-streets city (fairly clean, pretty well-developed, nice people), we only had one other kid peeing incident, but that was at the waterfront, a much more understandable place.

And to further put in perspective our being done with KK, we went to the movies again last night and saw Killers starring Ashton Kutcher. Awesome.

Anyways, like I said, we're ready for something new in KL. Hopefully my legs will be recovered by tomorrow. Til next time (probably tomorrow)

Peace, Love and Sustainability,
Jack

The Day Before Tomorrow in KK...

Gulp.
Super Gulp.
After Avatar, our "Good Luck" from Taken mantra has been replaced by the ominous "DOO-DOO-DOO-DOOOOOOOO" in the score that plays every 4.3 seconds after the destruction on Pandora. We've probably used it 50-60 times in the last 24 hours (if you ate some bad chicken satay at the night market and your stomach is feeling kinda funny...."DOO-DOO-DOO-DOOOOOOOO")... in case you forgot, here's what it sounds like:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glsyYJksGtg

Well, with all 14,000 feet or so of Mount Kinabalu staring at us in the next couple days, that song is just playing in my head over and over, but it's quickly becoming less and less funny. Those 2 pictures are just a couple of the album from my friend Yen (a Taiwanese dude whose staying at our hostel and did the trek a few days ago), and the rest of the album just makes the mountain look more and more unforgiving. Vertical Limit with Chris O'Donnell status.

Anyways, Yen's been very helpful giving us pointers and encouragement, but the bottom line is that me and Logan are woefully unprepared for this trek and more or less winging it (to put in perspective: I don't have pants even though the Mt. is supposed to be 0 celsius when we hit the peak, and Logan is planning on doin the whole thing in his Stan Smith Adidas sneakers. And it's probably gonna rain, too, maybe even thunderstorms. Perfect! God help us).

I'm writing this from a Coffee Bean with free wifi at 10:15pm or so as we try to have an easy night in prepping the next two days for our ascend up SE Asia's tallest peak. Here's our barebones itinerary:

6am: Wake up tomorrow, walk from hostel to bus station
7am: Leave by minivan to KK National Park
9am (or so): Start up Mt. Kinabalu, climb for 5 or so hours (gulp!)
2-3pm: Reach Laban Rata (our hostel that is 2,000 feet from the summit)
3pm: Rest, Rest, Rest
6pm: Dinner

The Next Day:
2am: Wake up (yikes!)...then walk 3 hours to get to the top for sunrise (the moment of truth)
5am: Trek down 14,000 feet (which everyone says is just as grueling if not more than the ascend)
2-3pm: Finish
3pm: Sleep for 24-48 hours.

So, yeah! I am part excited and thanks to Yen's pictures, a very large part terrified! But a good kind of terrified. (And as I'm writing it just started pouring! Woo hoo).

Anyways, I should be AWOL for the next few days, but hopefully I'll bring back some pictures and myself, as well. Until we meet again, talk to y'all soon. I'm off to go pray to Sir Edmund Hilary or something...

Love,
Jack

And hopefully this won't be us tomorrow... (Jimmy, you're literally the only person I expect to get the reference)

Life in Pictures in Duma (con't)

I had to work that picture in, just because it was way, way too weird not too. It was our first night in Dumaguete and we were hanging out at this bar/music spot called Hayahay, it was reggae night and the whole scene was totally surreal (me, Chris and Logan just hanging out halfway across the world).

Anyways, there was this old dude who was creepin on Filipino people the whole night (started with girls, then shifted to guys). We all wanted to know his backstory, so Logan persuaded me to go and ask him for a cigarette to spark a conversation. I reluctantly did, and he was ultimately pretty uninterested in talking to me (I wasn't Filipino or young enough, I guess). And Logan immediately regretted getting me to talk to him when he came over to our table, I've never seen Logan so fidgety hopin someone would leave.

But I did get him to give up that his name was Ted, he was a Philosophy teacher from Chicago (giving the Windy City a bad name) and he was a guest lecturer at Silliman University (the enemy of FU). He loved to dance. And he was moderately- to extremely-creepy, depending on your perspective. Just thought I'd throw him in there to put in perspective that there are plenty of creeper "Joes" (Filipino-speak for white guy) and that they are a small but noticeable part of the culture hanging around. Which sucks, because those Joes are giving white guys a bad name). And now I have a picture with him and a Filipino dude named Lionel. Awesome!

MOVING ON, QUICKLY (hopefully that wasn't too scarring)...

Day 3! Futsol (indoor soccer) tournament at Robinson's and Waterfall

Awesome day here. Dean Sinco squeezed us onto the FU alumni soccer team for this ridiculous 5-on-5 indoor soccer tournament in a mall. Here's what the scene looked like:
At 12pm, we finally took to the pitch against the Kickerz, who Dean told us were a bunch of slow dudes who we would handle. Since me and Logan were like the size equivilant of 3 Filipinos, and we had Chris (who is an experienced FU and UW intramural player), as well as JR (a bagel making awesome guy who Dean said could have played for the national team had he been given the shot), we thought we'd own. Not quite.

We went down 4-0 because of some poorly placed mopped water. Bummer. We showed some fight and scored three straight to make it 4-3. I was playing goalie in the second half and coming out of goal every second to attack, which every Filipino freaked out about and thought I was some insane Joe who didn't know shit about soccer. It was funny. Anyways, I gave up a goal late in the second half and that killed our momentum and we lost 5-3, but JR (the bagel-making soccer whiz had a hat trick, so that was cool).

Thankfully, though, Dean treated us to the unhealthiest meal known to man afterwards as consolation: a starter of Mister Donut donuts, to go with buckets of KFC with heaps of gravy. Grease and fat to the max, it was pretty death-defying to eat and survive. The carnage:

After the game, we collected our stomachs and drove up to this ridiculous waterfall that was about 30 minutes drive up the mountain outside of Duma. We had to do a lot of off-roading to find it, but in the end, it was more than worth it. We got to go swimming in the pond where the fall was too, which was awesome...I wanted to go underneath it, but Sinco and Logan were pretty convinced I'd get knocked unconscious if I did. Pretty sure they were right. Anyways, heres how it looked.

Walking there
Almost falling off the bridge

Dumaguete's answer to Niagara

"There were horses, and a man on fire, and I killed a man with a trident."

We are happy


After we wrapped up there, we started driving home, but decided to go up the mountain, which was an adventure. Things kept getting less and less paved and there was less and less road, which made things worrisome (but despite the lack of development, there were still VOTE FOR BOBOT FOR OFFICER signs, even in the shantytowns away from civilization - this was hilarious).

30 minutes and driving up gravel and unpaved roads, we made it to the top (totally blind luck), which happened to also be the Japanese monument commemorating something to do with WWII. We applauded ourselves for the good fortune and hung out, grabbed drinks and chips and soaked it in. Then a Singaporian dude named Bryan who lived in the huts at the top of the mountain came and talked to us for a bit. Then we went home.

View from the top (that's Bryan's hut)
Youve been warned
The other side


And that was, in a nutshell, Day 3. We went home for dinner, me and Logan went home to get massages (which Chris watched for about 80 percent of the time, which only made it that much more awkward, making small talk about the Orlando Magic while someone is rubbing your face). And we crashed early because we had to get ready for...

Day 4: SCUBA.

We were all totally newbs to scuba and the experience couldn't have been cooler. A crew of 5 guys came and picked us up from Foundation to go to Apo Island (of course the whole operation was planned by Dean's assistant Karen and every detail was taken care of). The dudes were all nice guys, but we only really got to make nice with to the two that spoke english, Alvin (the dive master who rode in the back of the jeepney with us) and Samuel (who made sure we pronounced his name Samwell and Alvin called "Samuel Jackson").

Heading over to the Apo, Chris is ready for his headshot
More happiness in the jeepney goin over

Alvin and Samuel Jackson gettin ready to boat to Apo
We got there and Alvin showed us a 14-page manual and pretty much we were ready to go. 20 minutes and you know how to scuba, perfect. After a little adjusting to the gear and ways, we all got the hang pretty quick. Here's what the dive spot looked like
After our first dive

Typical Filipino workday (one of the drivers on our boat)

After jumpin in for dive No. 2, we stayed in for a while. We saw a turtle! But mostly the coral was the big draw and looked like this:
Triumphant

After that the guys rushed us back to the mainland because we had a BBQ to make with Dean and Patrick and a bunch of people that they work with in IT. After 30 minutes and a lot of coordinating, we got swooped by Dean's assistant Karen and made it to the BBQ. This was our first encounter with a lot of different Filipino traditions. First, we got there and everyone was playing Hip Hip Horray. It was bizarre. Then they started a Miss Gay Contest (which everyone thought was the funniest thing ever). And we also got our first exposure to the infamous lechon and the expression "CHACK...EAT THE LECHON"

In case you were wondering what lechon is, check it out...Babe, Pig in the City (before)

And after...

More carnage
The Miss Gay Contest (we're still all trying to figure out why this was funny, just dudes dressing up like girls and walking around dainty like)
Malyn loves the Miss Gay!

And of course, Dean was throwing chairs at stray dogs lookin for scraps, so that made for some good laughs. So between scuba, BBQ and another night on the beachwall at Hayahay talking to locals, that was Day 4.
Tomorrow I'll get down Day 5 (which was the COCKFIGHT!) and our couple-day trip to Bohol island (Ziplining, travel adventure/nightmare and karaoke with Filipino policemen)

Until then, gnight from KK.
-j