Who's the Wack Job - Palin or Me?

I've always kinda liked McCain. I'd been considering him for a long while, and willing to make some concessions to do so. No one candidate s perfect, there will always be some give and take.

But Palin is too much of a freaking wack job to take. I can't even consider him anymore. Let's keep her as far from American policy as possible. How about, um, Alaska.

So all this makes me wonder, if the only candidate you can ever agree with 100% is yourself; would I ever consider some sort of elected job?

I think I actually would. My problem is a religious one. Or rather most everyone else's is a religious one. What are the chances of any city, state or national seat electing an atheist or agnostic in this day in age?

I think the only well known examples would be some of the founding fathers. Jefferson, Franklin... just my favorite ones. Not that every atheist has been a good leader, that would be arrogantly foolish to say. Even so, I did feel a little smug after watching Religulous (though it would never live up to the standards of an objective documentary).

I think a little more separation of church and elected official would do the country some good. And I think I'm more tolerant than your average believer, so why not pick someone who, although outside of every religion is more inclusive of all religions? Someone who will question everything; considering all views, rather than taking anything on faith.

And the next thing to figure out is what positions are more or less likely to be resistant to the idea? One the more local scale, you're less likely to influence big policies like abortion. But on the city level I'd more likely to have an influence on prayer in schools and the like.

I'd have less of an automatic base by not aligning with anyone. And one might also assume that I'm purely anti-religion. On the larger scale of a national level, that might be washed out by the shear variety of voter; especially if my opponent were aligned with a minority sect.

And which party? At first glance it seem obvious to go for Libertarian... but they're too small and out there to be practical. It has to be the Elephant or the Donkey. Democrats come up next, and would be most probable - but I'd certainly veer from the party on some big issues. I'd consider the Republican party equally to the Democratic party if it weren't for the way they rely on their religious base - which is ironic, because America used to think of the Democrats when you thought of religion in politics.

Is it crazy? If Massachusetts can elect a Republican Mormon born in Michigan to Governor... then I just might have a shot.

Do you think they would let me play the Imperial March at my inauguration?

A little fireside blog.

Most of the weirdness from being in the condo again (and alone) has gone, and a couple small comforts have made it home again.

The hammock, and a log in the fire were perfect segues. Until I got electricity anyways. A chair, the XBox and the ability to make Top Ramen go a long way now too.

So aside from a little painting, I only have a little time to enjoy it before I have to answer the question "now what?"

And now for something a little inciteful

Or not.

Blah. Wrote so much lately, I don't have anything I'm burning to write about.

I'm gonna call it a night.

A little much, but I knew it would be.

I'm gonna get a bit sappy on you guys here.

Okay, more than a bit. You've been warned.

Admittedly, tonight, was a little overwhelming; stepping into the empty condo for the first time in nearly a year and a half. A lot of stuff happened in that place, but the first one the hits me is the most obvious - it was the place WE bought.

It was a lot easier the couple times I went in for short maintenance visits and someone else's stuff kept the hardwod floors from echoing. The naked place was different. It was my home again, and all that went on there - in the before times and the after times.

The red wall around the fireplace; you either love it or hate it. I love it. The huge balcony in the back, where if you hang a hammock becomes the best place in the entirety of the world to relax with a book. The heavy conversations that have transpired at the top of the stairs should have brought them crashing down long ago. Why does that spot inspire the deep and sometimes hard topics? And of course, stepping into the bedroom was the most powerful of it all.

But if there's 3 important things around tonight to smooth things over it was these: a long and humorous conversation with an old friend. The invisible hand of a newer one. And too a lesser degree - a Terry Pratchett induced nap before the ride back to San Clemente.

Still, it was pretty exciting to be back in the condo. The landing at the top of the stairs has many a topic ahead of it yet. Stop by, you'll see.


PS - no comments on this one please. Not public ones anyways.

Silver Stitching

I don’t recommend breaking a finger right before a 14 hour plane ride. But if you do, make sure you break it whilst practicing your gong fu. Doing so has had a couple of silver linings for me.

The first of which is that when everyone drinks beer, I can simply state that my medication will make me sick if I have more than a few sips.

Not untrue, but I didn’t find the need to take the Vicadin much. I’ll usually avoid being medicated if I can help it for reasons that are similar to my sobriety. Equally important because I really, really hate taking pills.

The other is the easy conversation that immediately follows.
“You practice Chinese kung fu?”
“Yes, for about four years now, do you?”

This carried me through several lulls in small talk in the diners that took place after our meetings.

It’s doing better by the way. I still have a couple months of rehab ahead.

Raise your hand if...

Raise your hand if you've ever been in a mosque?
Just me and MM? Really? Actually, I'm not surprised. Hell, I'm really new to the preceding list.

I stopped at McDonalds somewhere near Nathan Street for a quick bite. I was on the run, so don't give me no guff about my cuisine choice. Anyways, I noticed that there are more black men in this McDonalds than I've seen in the whole of Honk Kong so far. Weird.

After my meal I move up and onto Nathan Street, where I come across a mosque. And consequently more black men. So much for racially profiling black Asians as McDonalds fans. Just convenient I guess…

So I do random things as I travel, and since I find myself outside of a mosque I thought I’d go in for a look.

Now I'm full blown atheist, no secret there. But churches intrigue me. I often visit them often in my travels, mostly because they have the best architecture around, some garish zombie art and they also are likely to hold some historical value. The Old North Church in Boston is endlessly fascinating to me. The Church, an old church in Denver that was converted into a night club? Awesome.

So I stood around the entrance trying to figure out if they would let me in just for a look. Someone finally tells me I can look around if I take off my shoes at the entrance (as I've seen everyone else doing). I thank him and do exactly so.

Like a Christian church, there’s a little foyer where I stand around looking lost and more than a little out of place. Several men clothed in various degrees of stereotypical Muslim garb are giving me the “you’re not from around here, are you” eyeball. Not so much unfriendly as probing. Behind me, someone with an accent (African?) asks me in English if he can help. His voice is deep and questioning, but friendly.

I exchange introductions with a black man, dressed for business. As it turns out, he lives primarily in Arkansas; traveling often to Hong Kong and other places. I explain that I’m totally ignorant of Islam and to how a mosque operates, and that I would like to look around if it would not be offensive. Even though he was clearly on his way out the door, he tells me he’d be glad to show me.

First he shows me the room in which you do your “abolitions”. The nature of which seems to be to literally and ritually clean yourself before you pray. I must admit it went by kind of fast, but I think that was the gist. Then we go upstairs where the boys school is. The girl’s school is separate on the other side of the mosque. There are books and small floor level desks and a chalkboard, clearly laid out with little people in mind.

Finally I was shown to the room in which the actual business of talking to the almighty is done. It was a large, unadorned carpeted room with the westernmost wall slightly difference in appearance as to indicate Mecca. No furniture or statuary of any sort.

Men stand, kneel or lay around the carpet in their particular state of worship. Everyone was silent. The prayer rooms (for lack of official word) are quiet and actually pretty peaceful. I’d have layed down to reflect on the day for a spell if I’d felt a little more at home; it seemed an excellent place for it. Downstairs is a similar room.

Somewhere along the way my host tells me that in he is from a small town in Arkansas in which there are a dozen churches. Only in the basement of his office is a tiny mosque. I say something about having his own private mosque, and he corrects me. No, it is not his. All are welcome. The humility with which he says this strikes me as the most genuine thing I’ve heard in quite some time giving me a new respect for this man.

I got a little more of the eyeball on the way out; I put $20 (Hong Kong) in the charity box on the way out; more of gratitude than to assuage their concerns.

All in all, not a bad introduction. I still think all religions are for the birds, but I saw a peaceful, respectful place today, nothing in my ten minute tour to alarm westerners. No more than any other religion should bother us… but that’s a different discussion. Many thanks to my host.

The visit was fun for its newness, but I think in terms of future explorations I’ll get more from the Christian worship houses (even though the place across the street was the most boring, vanilla establishment I’d been to).

Too bad the Mormons won't let non believers in. I think they have the nicest looking church in all of San Diego. From the outside anyways.

Stupid nonsequiter story time.

So I'm in an elevator on the way up to a factory in Shenzhen, and guy gets in. This poor bastard has a mole with 3" of gnarly hair growing from it.

Normally I wouldn't really think much of it, but I had to suppress a snigger, because all I could think of was a conversation I'd had in the office with D the week before. It went something like this:

D: We're gonna have a little beard growing contest. You want in?

Pete: Normaly, I'd show off my testosterone and jump in, but I want to look clean cut for my trip to China. Besides I just shaved off 2 weeks of beard.

D: (with a lot of feigned attitude) Why don't you buck up and show the Chinese how an American grows a beard!

All I could think then was, how I should've been showing off my American whiskers. D was right. Next time I travel to Asia, I beard up first. I'm not losing to a handful of wispy mole hairs again!!!

End stupid story.

The girls of Admiralty Street

The most important way to get to know a city is to travel at "people speed". If you only stay at resorts and travel only by car you never get to know a city. Doing so is like saying that you've been to Chicago, when in reality you've only had a layover at OHare. I'll call shenanigans on that every time.

The term "people speed" comes from Neil Peart's (my hero) book on his travels in Africa. On a two week cycling trip up the coast, he learned about the people in a way that he never could have otherwise. I won't review the whole book, but I've had a bunch of those kind of experiences in HK because I've been traveling by foot, bus and train. Not a bicycle as my hero prefers, but still "people speed".

I think my favorite such event came after a trip to Victoria's Peak. Just before sunset I wandered down one of the paths (Findlay) near the peak, and found a clearing from which to watch the city light up. Just as the lights were going down a couple in their late forties wandered down the path.

They were a pair of charming British expatriates who moved here eight years ago. Even though he had an office high on one of the tallest building, they still liked to come up to the peak once in a while. Before they parted, he told me I should go down from the peak on the double-decker bus, then take the Star Ferry across the water (which I had done in the morning). He said they were the two cheapest tourist attractions you were likely to find anywhere, and he would turn out to be right. You couldn't help but like them, so I disregarded my pre-purchased pass down on the tram and went to the bus.

The bus ride down was no less hair raising than last year's white water rafting trip in Colorado. To be fair, the rafting trip was tamer than the one I did with my old man when he took me for my high school graduation. What a memorable gift that has been, but I digress.

The adventure really began when I got off the bus too early and had to walk down to the pier. After wandering through a largely quiet financial area I saw a group of people. To my thinking, a populous place would likely be a safer place to travel so I went closer.

What I came to was Chater Garden; a large, paved open area where clusters of people filled the area. Once amongst them, I noticed that at least 19 out f 20 people here were women. Weird! Did I finally figure out where women hang out? Well, actually, I kinda did. Jackpot? No. They were all a little old for me for starters, but there were almost no men here. Weird!

These women were sitting around playing cards, dice, bingo, and just generally bullshitting with each other. Not that I understood their speech, but the tone of things suggested that they were in clusters of friends.

I thought to myself, I'll have to ask one of my friends who know about HK what was going on - which was stupid since I was in the midst of it all. But I didn't hear anything that made me think that anyone spoke English. I'd been more outgoing than usual for the whole trip, why the hesitance now?

Damn, the Sox just lost! Sorry, I was watching game 7 as I write. I don't even like baseball, why am I into this game?

Like I was saying, I was being stupid, but at least I knew it. As I progressed through the crowd, the clusters spilled past the park into Admiralty St., which was closed down. I popped into a high end clothing store just as it was closing. Considering I was dressed more like a backpacking slob than his usual clientele, the clerk told me these were all "domestic workers". As I walked away, I thought they must be gathering to look for work.

So as normal, I'm lost, but rather enjoying it. Everyone seemed so genuinely happy and relaxed, I couldn't help but smile along as I walked. Finally I heard an English word, so I stopped to ask for directions! I ended up approaching someone who didn't speak English, but she indicated for me to stay there and went to get her friend.

A Philipino lady named Laura came over and I asked her directions, I was about to go the wrong way. Which would have been bad, because that's never happened before.

She explained to me that Sunday was everyone's day off for them. She had been at the beach in the morning and had come here to hang out. They just normally get together on Sundays to hang out on a street in the financial area. In retrospect I wonder how this sort of thing gets started.

For some reason these women loved me, they all did introductions and took pictures with me before I realized I too had a camera. Unfortunately I only got this one picture. Blurry as it is, it will be one of my favorites. If I wasn't concerned about getting back to the Shenzhen border too late, I would have enjoyed a little more time here I think.
The ferry ride was pretty nice too.

Travel miscellania

My accidental and best new travel tip is this: Bring your old underwear. That way you can throw them out as you go, in order to make room for your purchases.
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Is it just me, or does the first character in "China" look an awful lot like the symbol on the suit from the Greatest American Hero?

So we need to ask ourselves, just how American was this guy? Don't let the blonde curls fool you. Underneath that goofy American exterior beats a Maoist heart!













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So I really rather like the tradition of ordering a bunch of dishes, and sharing them around the table. It makes socializing with strangers very easy. It give you lots of opportunities to make faces over the yummy and disgusting.

But at such tables, there is usually a lazy susan, on which I'm always looking for the antidote to the posion that the Shanghai crime boss just fed me. I really hope there's a big raft in the airplane back to USA.

HK Invasion!!!

Honk Kong has been invaded and conquered many times. Portugal, China, Japan, Britian, China (again), and now... Red Sox Nation!

China Day 2

Shanghai
Wu Bo Shi Dan – I don’t understand.

Finger was considerably less stiff this morning. The exercises seem to be doing some good.

Wandering around downtown Shanghai was impressive. Such a vast, modern cityscape was unexpected. From the hotel it seems not unlike New York or the like. Once atop the Pearl Tower’s viewing deck you could see most of the city.

I say “most of” because the city sprawls like nothing I’ve ever seen. As far as you can see from the 306 meter tall building, there are high rises in every direction. The world’s 3rd tallest building resides in Shanghai, but the further you got from downtown the smaller the buildings. On the edge of visibility buildings looked like they might only be 12 or 15 stories.

After a little sight seeing we were picked up again by Adrian and taken to lunch. My first experience driving seemed crazy, but turned out to be the norm. The reputation that Asian drivers have in the US must surely come from their skills in the motherland. I’m not sure which is the most important to Chinese drivers:

• The horn – used at least once / 5 minutes
• Immunity to motion sickness from sudden acceleration / deceleration
• Perfect knowledge of how close you can come to a pedestrian without killing him
• The knee-jerk reaction time of a US Congressman to something insignificant yet somehow newsworthy. Or a twitchy 13 yr old xbox player hopped up on a 2 liter of mtn dew.

I was told we were going to the premier dumpling restaurant in the entirety of the world. It might have been. We winded our way through the touristy market area (beautiful older style buildings) and finally came to the line. A line like I have never seen for a restaurant. This literally went around several buildings and literally must have had 1000 people in it. Literally.

We didn’t wait in I might add. The more you pay to get in, the shorter the line. Pricing was tiered by how long you wanted to wait. If you paid $1 to get something at the window, you aid $2 for the first floor, $4 for the second floor, and $7 for the third floor. (not be exact pricing). I was told stories of restaraunts in which you literally had to wait behind someone with your hand on his chair to claim to be on deck for that seat.

I don’t know this firsthand because we went to the top and waited an excruciating ten minutes, but the food was fantastic and worth the wait. I must try to make dumplings at home one of these days. Maybe not worth hours, but lots of people would apparently disagree. I don’t usually get the royal treatment. I felt a twinge of guilt walking out as I passed the same people who had scarcely move since I went in.

After this we had a factory visit and jumped back on a plane. This time destined for Beijing. I’m breezing over the work aspects of the trip as that is the one thing I never blog about.

Not much happened after the flight. Our guy in China resides in Beijing. He picked us up and we went to the hotel. My firs impression of the city was disappointment. After such a vibrant Shanghai experience, Beijing looked drab. Lots of squarish grey buildings, with far fewer awe inspiring ones. I’d be shown a different side later.

Catching my eye at the base of the elevator was the spa. More importantly the detail which said “massage”. Let me tell you, after 2 flights and a surgery, $158 RMB (~$28) for a full body massage was worth every last Yuan. It wasn’t by a hot asian chick, but it was still worth it all the same. It was good to be limber and relaxed again.

Sleepy time was good once again.

China - Day one

Day 1 Ni han pyon liang – I think you are pretty.
After a crash course in physical therapy for my finger I hopped on a plane to Shanghai on Friday morning, arriving Sunday afternoon. It’s not like my sleep schedule was regular anyways. With the head cold the entire week before and surgery the day before, I was already a right mess. Hell, I was probably operating closer to Shanghai time than CA time.

I’ve done well with flights lately. Not having to be wedged between the fat man and the screaming baby is always a blessing all by itself. This is especially true when the flight is fourteen hours. This time I had the pleasure of sitting next to Jennifer, a young sales woman for a Chinese company who was returning home after a series of conventions.

Her Chinese name is so close to Jennifer that it was an easy choice for her American name. In fact you almost couldn’t tell the difference when she said it fast. Jennifer endured my endless questions about China and how to say different things when we were between naps and even got in a picture. I really am getting better at talking to strangers, a skill that hasn’t come easy to me. By the end of the flight I knew how to say ‘I do not understand’ and I relearned ‘I think you are pretty’. I learned the latter from a friend in the US the previous week, but I figured it might be better to take the passive aggressive approach since we’d have to be friends for the next 14 hours.

Luckily for Jennifer, she slept more than I did. This gave me time to unwrap my finger and go through my physical therapy excercises without showing off my disgusting wound. Well, its kinda cool from a boy’s perspective; but I figured she wouldn’t hold the same opinion.

A Chinese man I talked to on the plane, and many others throughout wanted to know about the financial crisis in the US. I couldn’t really say more than the standard boiler plate about home loans and such. It is clearly an important situation that is being followed the world across, as people would continue to ask everywhere along the way.

Arrival was a sleepy one. We were greeted by a friendly vendor who took us to our hotel. After freshening up, we went to eat with Adrian and some of his employees. Walking is a heroing experience. People aren’t afraid of cars, and cars are not afraid of people. It makes for a country wide game of chicken.

Diner was a German restaurant not too far from the hotel. On the riverside next to the restaurant (called the Bund) we saw fireworks launched from a river boat. I would never have guessed how much gun powder that boat was packing. After about 20 minutes the 30-odd foot boat was done. All the while, a newly wed couple was having their pictures taken with the Bund and fireworks at their backs. Adrian says he doesn’t know why they had fireworks, but that it would have been impossible for the couple to have arranged it. So I guess that just make them the luckiest couple in Shanghai that day, their wedding pics must be spectacular.

The food was very, well, German. Not great, but I wasn’t very hungry and it was fun in the spirit of the latter days of Octoberfest. I even had a little beer. Beer still all tastes the same to me, and that’s not a compliment. There was a quartet of singers / musicians who butchered one American song after another in front of us. Behind us was an enjoyably boisterous table who loudly toasted each other in Chinese with great regularity.

It just all felt surreal, so I took it all in and enjoyed it as such. Coming back to the hotel, the view overlooked the Bund, and it was spectacular with all the buildings still lit up. Sleep came quick that night.

Sober musings

Tonight I was reminded of an occassion that defined for me why I rarely, if ever, socialize with people I work with. Aside from the obvious potential pitfalls, I have my own as a non-drinker.

And its a dousey for me.

I used to be very uncomfortable around highly intoxicated people. After a certain point I still am, but I've found an equilibrium for those environments in recent years. One hangover (pun intended) from those times is that I tend to judge people differently in those environs.

When I see coworkers all glassy eyed and stupid, I don't separate that impression from the one I need to work with very well. I'm never gonna high five someone in honor of how pissed they got, because I've never held it as a thing to value. Its simply never been a goal of mine or an achievement worthy of any sort of admiration.

So by extension of this I take it back to work with me, and it takes a while to wash away. I assume it takes a lot longer for me than for most people. Furthermore I assume that it is because I lack that sympathetic connection.

I've taken a much softer line than in years past, it does still affect me.

I'm not naive enough to think that if I don't see it happen then it doesn't exist. But its ethereal when you only hear about it. Just like skydiving may seem dangerous, or seem fun - the mythical elements of it can never be washed away completely until you find yourself 14,000 feet up with nothing but O2, CO2, N2 and a few trace elements between you and the planet.