Jeju

Hyeopjae beach.
-Jeju [South Korea]

I find it interesting to be on Jeju immediately after spending time on the Hawai'ian islands.  Both are stunning volcanic archipelagos that offer rich soil, waterfalls, and beaches.  The prolific traditional statues of Jeju, dol hareubangs^[1], look nearly identical to their Polynesian counterparts.  Both have large tourist economies^[2]; both are known as honeymoon destinations; both have important military roles^[3].  The comparisons are such, that Jeju is often referred to as the Hawai'i of South Korea.

However, the contrasts are easily recognized.  I have moved away from shrimp trucks and sweet barbeque.  Now, squid and kimchi are the mainstays of my diet.  No more Dole pineapple and Spam; now it's Jeju tangerines and kimbap (a derivative of Japanese sushi).  Pork is now eaten in the form of Korean barbeque^[4] instead of a luau, with black pork as the local favorite. 

Jeju is unlike any island I have visited.  Here, the water is cold and order prevails.  People wear more clothing on the summer beaches of Jeju than a Hawai'ian caught in an Alaskan blizzard.  There isn't the carefree, laissez faire, attitude of the tropics.  No, Jeju has a methodical, orderly way of doing things that is evident in the many facets of the island culture.

Jeju has an mistakable allure, evident by the number of people that visit each year.  The entire island population of just over 600,000 people manages to host the 12 million tourists that visit each year (the majority are Korean).  The people are courteous and sing everything they speak.  The greetings and "thank you's" sound like an acoustic version of the K-pop music that is so popular on the mainland.

Dol hareubang statues.
-Jeju [South Korea]

The island has a small town feel that I appreciate.  I am greeted with smiles and respectful bows from shop owners.  People take a little time to speak to each other as they walk down the street.  Agriculture is a significant source of income for the locals and the island has a "down to earth" practicality while maintaining a highly motivated and highly educated attitude.  These are people who are accustomed to work.  One can feel the matter-of-fact dedication that has led to the massive economic growth of the last two generations^[5].

After several visits to Jeju over the last three years, it has now become synonymous with cooking southern-style barbeque^[6].  The island culture loves the meat and the flair of having it cooked in a foreign style.  I love sharing something completely unique to the culture of my own country and, at the same time, integrating some local flair, such as cooking it with the tangerine wood that Jeju is famous for.

Soon, I will this non-tropical paradise for more exotic climes, but I will always appreciate the quiet dignity of Jeju.

Suweolbong at sunset.
-Jeju [South Korea]

Footnotes:
1.  "Dol hareubangs" are statues carved from basalt traditionally found on Jeju Island.  The name derives from the Korean word for "stone" (dol 돌) and the Jeju dialect word "hareubang" (하르방) meaning "grandfather".  The statue faces feature grinning expressions, bulging eyes, and slight smile.  Their hands rest on their bellies, one slightly above the other.  They are considered to be gods that offer both protection and fertility.  These statues are placed outside of gates for protection against demons traveling between realities.   -return to the story

2.  In 2011 and 2012, Jeju was the home of one leg of the most traveled air route in the world.  For these years, respectively, a total of 9.9 million and 10.16 million passengers made the 450 km journey between Seoul and Jeju.  For 2013, the Jeju to/from Seoul route slumped to second place for a total of 13.8 million passengers among nearly 74,000 flights behind the Tokyo to/from Sapporo route with a combined total of 14.78 million passengers among over 59,000 flights.  Interestingly, in 2013 the São Paulo to/from Rio de Janeiro flight route had more flights (a combined total of 74,940 flights) but less passengers (a combined total of 12.8 million people).
In contrast, the Hawai'i archipelago received 7,998,815 visitors during 2012.   -return to the story

3.  Jeju holds a strategic location between South Korea, Japan, and China.  As such, it has been a battleground for many conflicts.  In 1910, Jeju (along with the rest of the Korean empire) was annexed by Japan.  During World War II, Japan established a naval base on Jeju that housed 70,000 soldiers.  Currently, there are plans to build a Korean naval base that will house 8,000 marines, up to 20 destroyers, and several submarines.   -return to the story

4.  Korean barbecue is a style of of cooking in which the meat is typically cooked at the diner's table on gas or charcoal grills that are built into the table itself.   -return to the story

5.  In 2012, Korea was the world's seventh largest importer and exporter.  In the last 50 years, this country has literally grown from from having to a gross domestic product of zero to over a trillion dollars annually ranking it as the eleventh in the world.   -return to the story

6.  There will be more stories involving my experiences cooking southern bbq on Jeju. The last barbeque adventure involved cooking half of a pig (weighing in at 42 kg) on one of the black sand beaches, a story that will soon be told.   -return to the story

Driving Licenses

Sunset.
-Rock Sound, Eleuthera [The Bahamas]

This story is the result of reminiscing while waiting^[1] at a non-US governmental driving license issuing agency.  Why, you might ask?  Well, that's easy... because it was considered by the author to be more productive to reminisce that pretending to go crazy and start an imaginary verbal altercation with a large green elf-eared androgynous robot with a Lite-Brite© device on his/her/or possibly even it's chest, as was suggested by one of the dear comrades that was being accompanied in the procurement of a non-US governmental driving licenses at said non-US governmental driving license issuing agency.

Anyway.... this is a story about the author's acquisition of a non-US governmental driving license from a non-US governmental driving license issuing agency.  Said agency was affiliated with a small island country located within the confines the Caribbean Sea and that is precisely where our story takes place.

As it so happened, my then current driving license, issued by a US governmental driving license issuing agency, was due to expire.  Under such circumstances, many fairly radical solutions were presented to me.  Not the least of these, was a suggestion that I obtain a driving license from a non-US governmental driving license issuing agency, something that had heretofore been a completely foreign idea to me, in more ways than one.

The details of securing such a license, as accounted to me, varied greatly in the manner of description and in regards to the specific stipulations that must be completed for license obtainment.  For, on this particularly galvanizing matter, it did appear that most every single one of my associates not only had an opinion of the proceedings that would ensue, but felt obligated to share those opinions with me.  I was regaled with legends of past driving license obtainments.  I was terrified with horrible misdeeds of driving license obtainment officers.  I was intrigued by the ever-changing list of required items.  Under such a state of bewilderment and bemusement, I took it upon myself to pursue this matter and scheduled an appointment with the appropriate non-US governmental driving license issuing agency under the greatest of philosophical mindsets, known as, "what the hell..."

As circumstances would allow, my appointment was to be on a Tuesday, and a very propitious Tuesday at that; for, this particular Tuesday had provided our tiny Caribbean island with a great deal of rainfall causing a fair amount of consternation amongst my associates and, of course, eliciting another barrage of opinions as to the procurement process of the non-US governmental driving license.

It was under these circumstances that I did embark to the non-US governmental driving license issuing agency for the obtainment of a non-US governmental driving license.

Pink governmental building.
-Governor's Harbor, Eleuthera [The Bahamas]

I arrived in short order, particularly given the fair distance that needed to be traveled and meteorological conditions that then existed.  Upon entering the parking area of the non-US governmental driving license issuing agency, my expectations very sorely incorrect.  This was not the grand, stoic, mind-eating, bureaucratic^[2] building that I had expected, but rather, a mildly mind-numbing light coral pink den of repetitive motions.

I entered the lair of the bureaucratic beast and found the typical henchman, or in this case a henchwoman, entrenched at her escritoire and encased in a protective layer of glass.  Well-versed in the language of the governmental agencies, I took the mumblegrunt that escaped from the underling as an invitation to sit down.  Once seated, another mumblegrunt, slightly more fervent than the previous, evoked me to approach the henchwoman's alcove.  Mistaken, once again, a more vigorous mumblegrunt with a pronounced henchwoman headnod indicated a number-issuing machine.

Reluctant to breach international governmental agency protocol and evoke the wrath of all bureaucracies everywhere, I endeavored to communicate entirely without words and thus approached the number-issuing machine.  Following this criterion, I made several glances, and some minorly abstract gesticulations for reassurance, before bravely pulling a number from the number-issuing machine.

A wave of euphoric relief swept over me as a satisfied mumblegrunt and slight headnod replaced the look of mild annoyance on the face of the henchwoman to indicate that all was in order now, we could proceed according to the necessary rules of operation.  I again took my seat to begin the required wait.

Yes, I have found a wait IS mandatory within the offices of governmental agencies.  This, I believe, is the golden truth of all governmental agencies; all must wait.  This ensures that the individual will feel less individualistic, and through increasing physical discomfort, will continually grow more comfortable with the idea that one will do as instructed, an important concept for all to comprehend, fully crystallized through inevitable wait.

Mind you, I was the only non-henchperson in the office making the entire previous number-issuing procedures and wait-time entirely unnecessary, but that is not the point.  The point, dear reader, is that there are procedures that have been outlined and that we as trivial, uninitiated members to the great order of bureaucracy, have not the power to suggest that a perfectly logical process be followed.  Oh no, it is our place to show that we are capable of following, just as it is the place of all henchpersons to unquestioningly ensure that following be followed.  Plus, if one did not wait, how would the henchperson possibly have time to primp him/herself and scrutinize personal electronic devices for the latest tidbits of fashion gossip?!?!?

Anyhow, after the required wait, and little more for good measure, another mumblegrunt and slight finger movement lead me to believe that I should approach the glass cocoon.  The henchwoman, vocalized something unintelligible and pointed to the clock on the wall.  "Fair enough," I indicated with a shoulder shrug, not fully understanding what I was agreeing to.  I then pointed back to single chair upon which I had been sitting and raised on eyebrow in a questioning grimace for I dared not speak at the risk of upsetting the natural balance of office order.  I evoked a satisfied nod from the henchwoman and quickly returned to my previous post of anticipation.

After another immeasurable amount of time had passed, I heard a rumble from the great double-doors opposite my position on the lone chair of the fore area of the mildly mind-numbing light coral pink den of repetitive motions.  I realized that these double-doors must lead to the inner sanctum; the cocoon, birthplace, and rearing area of the Great Bureau of Bureacracy, the glorious managerial workstation.

Indeed, it was.  For from these double-doors emerged a short man.  Not only was he a smartly attired short man, but a short, smartly attired man.  I instantly recognized that he must be important for he wore the sharpest of military-esque uniforms, with assorted medals decorating his chest.  At a single glance, one could not only ascertain that he was the grandest non-US governmental driving license issuing agent in the room, but, possibly even in the entire building.  As such, he shall now be referred to as the Grand Poobah^[3] of Driver License Licensing within the non-US governmental driving license issuing agency, as it exists in our story.

In convincing English, this man invited me to join him in the inner office.  Under such circumstances, was I to begin the process of acquiring a non-US governmental driving license, or so I believed, for I still had absolutely no idea as to what this process actually might entail.

This intricate exercise began, at least on that particular day, by the ceremonial seating of the Grand Poobah of Driver License Licensing within the glorious managerial workstation of the non-US governmental driving license issuing agency in which, the Grand Poobah of Driver License Licensing sat down at his desk while I remained standing, waiting to be formally allowed to be seated, something he rectified with a firm down-sweeping motion of his right hand.

Upon sitting, I was made to wait for several moments while the Grand Poobah of Driver License Licensing preened his military-esque uniform as to best allow me to luxuriate in his splendor and resplendence.  We then began the following conversation, which has been painstakingly recreated word-for-word down to the minutest of details:

[Long post-preening pause for effect]
"Boy, you know that one must drive slowly when its raining?" causally stated the G.P.o.D.L.L.^[4] with an air of extreme importance and only slight questioning.

"Yes sir," I responded deliberately and with an air of only semi-importance so as to acknowledge that I was only just important enough to be in association with the G.P.o.D.L.L., but not of significant importantance, so that he was able to fraternize with me at his leisure.

[Another pause while the G.P.o.D.L.L. focused his eyes on his various certificates for our social hierarchy to become further established]

"Are you sure that you understand that one must drive slowly when it is raining?" more questioningly stated by the G.P.o.D.L.L. than the previous statement.

"Yessir," I responded less deliberately as I began to ruminate on two rather fundamental questions to this whole account, how exactly was it that I might acquire the non-US governmental driving license and where exactly did the G.P.o.D.L.L. fit within this entire process, questions that were both to be answered in short order, I assure you.

[Another pause, but this pause found the G.P.o.D.L.L. looking intently at me, prompting me to believe that further explanation was required by myself.]

"I come from a place that has bad weather....." I added to my contemplations by way of explanation.

"Very well." said the G.P.o.D.L.L. as he somehow summoned the double doors to open with a slight waving of his left hand.

I took that gesture as my cue to exit the the inner managerial workstation and upon exiting through the grand double doors of bureaucracy, the henchwoman mumblegrunted to me what I believed to be, "40 dollars, please."

I quickly acquiesced, shrugging my shoulders (largely for my own purposes of amusement and as a symbol to the deep state of bewilderment in which I currently found myself).  Upon receiving my monetary token of trade, the henchwoman rose from her office chair and began walking towards an unknown area further within the light coral pink den of repetitive motions whereupon, seeing my befuddling, she stopped mid-stride, and made a sweeping gesture with her right hand that I took to signify that I should be seated in the lone chair, which I immediately did.

I waited for a rather short amount of time further contemplating how exactly I had found myself in these perplexing, yet rather intriguing circumstances, when the henchwoman approached the protective glass encasing and held out a card in my general direction.

"How odd," I thought to myself, as I stood and approached the mysterious card ensuring that I gave the henchwoman three questioning glances before daring to reach out and receive the card from her outstretched hand.  Though logic dictated that I should exit the den as quickly as possible without drawing any undue attention to myself, I could not resist examining the card.

To my great astonishment, I had received my non-US governmental driving license from a non-US governmental driving license issuing agency which provided me the distinct privilege to not only drive an automobile, but also a motorcycle, and even further, to my great amusement, a golf cart.... yes, amigos, it appeared that I was now officially licensed to drive a golf cart.

Though my mind was reeling from a multitude of questions, I deemed it to best serve immediate purposes to leave my sleeping questions lie, and took it upon myself to leave the mildly mind-numbing light coral pink den of repetitive motions posthaste without further explanations.  No use accidentally undoing all the excellent work that I had already accomplished by unknowingly meeting all the driving license issuing requirements of a non-US governmental driving license issuing agency with precisely twelve words and only a few random thoughts.

Long live bureaucratic verbosity and the odes that they inspire!

Robot thingey.
-Jeju [South Korea]

Footnotes:
1.  Read as, "Waiting..... glacially slow waiting..... This wait was long enough for the author to urinate, properly, I might add, in every urinal of every bathroom facility of the non-US governmental driving license issuing agency and then aid the cleaning staff in dusting off all the plants while persons attempting to acquire driving licenses visited enough desks in enough agency offices to obtain a single paper with no less than 218 stamps and no more than 3 strange Braille hole thingies."   -return to the story

2.  Interestingly, but not surprisingly, the term "bureaucracy" is French in origin.  The satirical word was coined in the mid-18th century by the French economist Jacques Claude Marie Vincent de Gournay by combining the French word bureau, meaning "desk" or "office", with the Greek word kratos, meaning "rule" or "political power" and is so doing, evoked all the known Mediterranean sea gods, in a spectacularly torturous typhoon of medieval office tyranny to create a word with the horrific meaning of "the place where time moves so slowly, and with such great pain, that a thousand deaths would be preferable to the microscopic mental mastication received from each trivial point of minutest minutiae."   -return to the story

3.  Grand Poobah is a term derived from the name of the haughty character, Pooh-Bah, in Gilbert and Sullivan's "The Mikado".  In this comic opera, Pooh-Bah holds numerous exalted offices, including: First Lord of the Treasury, Lord Chief Justice, Commander-in-Chief, Lord High Admiral, Archbishop of Titipu, Lord Mayo, and, finally, Lord High Everything Else. The name has come to be used as a title for someone self-important or high-ranking and who either exhibits an inflated self-regard or who has limited authority while taking impressive titles.
Interesting uses:

• "Grand Poobah" was the name of a high ranking elected position in the secret society of the Loyal Order of the Water Buffaloes in which Fred Flintstone and his friend Barney Rubble were members of Lodge No. 26 on "The Flintstones."
• Howard Cunningham, on the TV series Happy Days, was a Grand Poobah of Leopard Lodge No. 462 in Milwaukee.
• In the "Fraggle Rock" episode called "The Secret Society of Poohbahs," Gillis Fraggle serves as the Beggler-Beg of the Poohbas, Convincing John serves as the Vanguard of the Poohbas, and Red Fraggle serves as the Mind-Reader who sees if a potential member is worthy enough to join the Poohbahs.
• In the comic strip Pearls Before Swine, the character Rat deems himself Grand Poobah of the Benevolent Society of Angry Misanthropes.   -return to the story

4.  In the truest of bureaucratic fashions, with the intent to create even greater mystic, and simultaneously the illusion of more efficiently proceeding, I hereby arbitrarily decree that the Grand Poobah of Driver License Certification shall hitherto be known by the acronym of G.P.o.D.L.L.   -return to the story

Hawai'i

This trip marks my first return to the good 'ol US of A in a year.  It feels calming to return to my native soil where the world around me just makes sense.  I can freely communicate and there are no concerns about exchanging money, how to catch a bus, or if I’ve somehow managed to cause an international disaster over some sort of silly faux pas^[1].

It’s been several months since I’ve touched US ground and I cherish hearing the phrase from the immigration officer, “Welcome home, sir.”

Aloha!

Island of Moloka'i.
-Hawai'i [USA]

I have long been fascinated with Hawai’i.  For me, this place is more than a tropical escape; it is a different reality.  Sure, everybody wants to sit on a tropical beach and watch beautiful people doing interesting things… all while drinking cold beverages from a beach chair.  But that’s not what interests me, my interest is much deeper.

I am from the mountains.  The mountains make perfect sense to me.  I understand their volatile weather.  I appreciate their harshness.  I respect the ruggedness required to live amongst these uplifted tectonic plates.  I sense the unseen ravines, ridges, and false peaks behind what is “up ahead.”

I don’t have this same level of comfort in these tropical places.  I don’t feel the ocean.  I don’t have the same intuition of the weather.  I don’t fully grasp the intricacies.  I am a student, and I do learn, but it is not my own skin.

Hawai’i does offer me isolation.  Though it is clearly geographically isolated, I am surprised that I feel the same mental removal from the drudgeries of life on these volcanic remnants that I can find in the mountains.

The language attracts me.^[2]  There seems to be more feeling behind “aloha” than a friendly “hello”.  I like that ALL the vowels are pronounced ALL of the time.  It seems straight-forward and genuine to me that only the important letters are used and all letters used are important.  It is what I imagine of the indigenous peoples of Hawai’i.

Music here seems to be a more integral part of life.  Here, everyone sings.  Dancing has significance through the stories it tells.  I love hearing the combinations of ukulele and and the open ringing chords of slack key guitar.^[3]

The water is simply awe-inspiring.  The water is better than bathtub temperature and the plethora of life it sustains is readily evident.  Here, the ocean surf lasts forever and is easy to catch, even for unskilled mountain-lovers like myself.  At the same moment, this is the home of giant waves and the surf is large, demanding, and destructive.

It’s nice to step back into the humid air!

Papakolea (Green Sand beach).
-Island of Hawai'i, Hawai'i [USA]

Ono
The deliciousness of this trip was not the food, but the friendship that brings me here.  In this case, I have traveled to Hawai’i to witness the wedding of a dear friend and spend time with his families; which makes them my families.

To me, this wedding is more than the typical ceremony.  It is a commitment.  I feel deep satisfaction when I see these two people willingly agree to accept each other.  I don’t believe that I see this often.  In fact, I believe I rarely see it.

I’m speaking of the commitment in which two people look each other in the eye and knowingly commit to difficulties, hard work, and frustration because they know that the fleeting and elusive moments of happiness and companionship are worth more than several lifetimes of meaningless struggle.  They have confidence that no matter what life may bring them, they will rely on each other and find a way through it.

Thank you for reminding me that these relationships exist and are still cherished.  It is an honor for me to be included and involved in this beautiful ceremony with these types of people that I am privileged call friends.

Mahalo
Once again, I must thank the gods of travel for guiding and directing my paths for incredible and unexpected stories.  This trip did not disappoint!!!

Hawai’i has brought me surfing, volcano exploration, interesting food combinations, bizarre accommodations, laughter, and rekindled friendships.  Mahalo!

"Turtle Restin' Beach".
-Island of Hawai'i, Hawai'i [USA]

Footnotes:
1.  I know it’s terribly egotistical of me to believe that I could possibly be important enough to cause an international disaster....  but, what the hell....   -return to the story

2.  The Hawai'ian language (olelo Hawaiʻi), along with English, is the official language of the state of Hawai'i.  After several years of decline (from the 1830's to the 1950's), there has been a gradual increase in attention to the language.  The Hawai'ian alphabet has 13 letters: five vowels (long and short) and eight consonants.  One of the consonants is a glottal stop (called ʻokina in Hawai'ian).
    Vowels:  A, E, I, O, U
    Consonants:  H, K, L, M, N, P, W, '

There are four basic rules in the Hawai'ian language:
    -All words end in a vowel.
    -Every consonant is followed by at least one vowel.
    -Every syllable ends in a vowel.
    -Two consonants never appear next to each other.

A pidgin language is also spoken in Hawaiʻi but it is not the Hawai'ian language referred to here.   -return to the story

3.  Slack-key guitar is a style of guitar music that originated in Hawai'i.  Its name refers to its characteristic open tunings (in Hawai'ian it is called "ki hoʻalu" meaning "loosen the key").  Most slack-key tunings being with the guitar in standard tuning and "slacking" one or more of the strings until all six strings form a single chord (frequently G major).   -return to the story

Ding Ding

First, and foremost, I must say that the word "ding" is truly an amazing word.  By repeating the word, to make it ding-ding, the original amazingness is only, well, more amazing.

To illustrate my point, let's start with some of the many definitions of this word.  Please note that the spelling and grammar rules as they pertain to this word should be very important, but have been completely manufactured by myself.  Definitions that I wish to explore are^[1]:

• Ding Ding:  name used for females of Asian descent in which the repetition of the word adds a distinct amount of cuteness.  Known variations include: Ling Ling, Qing Qing, Ting Ting, Xing Xing, Ying Ying
• ding ding:  a person lacking general intelligence;  i.e. - someone who is a few to many beans short of a full burrito.  Known variations include: ding-a-ling, ding-dong
• DingDing:  a mysterious force that can only be truly defined upon finding it;  e.g. - "I am constantly searching for the Great DingDing that will give meaning to all life."
• ding-ding:  used to describe someone who likes all the bells and whistles;  e.g. For example, "That ding-ding's truck has more lights on it than a UFO." See also "whacker" or "wanker".
• dING dING:  slang term used by police to describe firefighters.  The origin stems from the sounds of a bell on an antique fire truck.
• dingding(s):  used to describe various parts of the human anatomy, for either males or females.  Known variations include: ding-a-ling, ding-dong
• ding/ding:  an illegal slot machine
• dingding:  presumably^[2], some sort of sexually act as defined by a 50+ year old Vietnamese-esque woman in Bahrain as she asked, "I give you ding ding?" while pointing to my groin region.

See?!?!? Isn’t this an amazing word full of amazing insights into the English language?!?!?^[3]

For this story, not only will I using as many possible variations of the word “ding” as possible, but will largely focus on the first definition of the word, in which Ding Ding is the name of a female of Asian descent.

Without further ado, please allow me to introduce you, dear reader, to Ding Ding.

Now, let's not prematurely assign any judgements to someone that has Ding Ding as a name.  The particular individual that I wish to speak about was someone that you might have initially presumed to be a real ding ding (someone who is not entirely more than half-empty in the great ”bucket of intelligence”).  No, amigos, in this case, Ding Ding is the name of a Taiwanese woman who was my cabin-mate in a mountain village in Japan; a village from which I was exploring the great DingDing of Skiing.

It WAS clear that Ding Ding was a ding-ding.  She had all the fancy smancy technological devices; she had top name-brand clothing; and, she ALWAYS looked as if she had just stepped right off of the runway.... ALWAYS!

As it turns out, Ding Ding made her living as a travel writer, although she could have done quite well other occupations in which attractiveness and a womanly-shaped body are highly sought after.  Indeed, Ding Ding had more curves than the bell on a Dingding’s truck and wore tighter clothes (which greatly accentuated her various dingding(s)) than a bouncer in front of a southern back-alley ding/ding.

As it turns out, Ding Ding and I were cabin-mates for several days.  At the end of each day, I would return from my search of the great DingDing of Skiing to said winter cabin to find Ding Ding doing a variety of tasks.  I could never find a pattern to these tasks that Ding Ding performed from which I might be allowed to gain any insight to her purpose of being in our little Japanese cabin.  These tasks included:

• Making instant ramen-type noodles.
• Meticulously packing and re-packing her bags.
• Trying an various footwear that could be found around the cabin.
• Contemplating whether 18 really was the answer to all questions in the universe.

But I digress...

After a few days of the usual pleasantries and the unusual tasks, I endeavored to greater understand Ding Ding.  It was as this point that, with her limited English and my nonexistent Taiwanese^[4], that I learned that Ding Ding^[5] traveled all over the world and did as she pleased.  She was not bound by the social frameworks of time and money.  No, she traveled and tasked as she pleased and at her leisure.

Well, suffice it to say, that this greatly interested me and prompted me to inquire as to her ability to afford such luxury.  She confidently confessed that she was able to enjoy this auspicious lifestyle by writing a few stories about her travels and submitting them to a Chinese travel magazine.  Well, I must say that these ideas greatly sparked my imagination and caused further inquiries on my part.
Ding Ding continued by greatly encouraging me (which involved a LOT of bowing and reticent looks) to write about my travels.  She was confident that “you like!  for you, lotsa money!!!!”.  Then and there, I vowed to Ding Ding that I would begin writing immediately and take advantage of living a lifestyle similar to hers^[6].  The world was to be my oyster and I was to live on the riches of the pearls that it would produce!

And so it is, that with my vow complete and my search of the great DingDing of Skiing temporarily assuaged, I left our magically little mountain cabin.

So, Ding Ding, wherever you are, I begin to complete my vow and thank you for the words of encouragement.  If we ever meet again, I hope that we can drink a cold ding (but not dings) and have one helluva ding while wearing dings and research the possible definitions of dingding.

Ding!

Auspicious signage.
-Niseko, Hokkaido [Japan]

Footnotes:
1.  For your ease of reading, definitions are defined in the order in which they appear in this story of ours.   -return to the story

2.  For the record, only presumption was involved.   -return to the story

3.  Other interesting definitions for the word "ding":
     -Colloquial term referring to the alcoholic beverage "Strongbow".
     -Virginian slang for cocaine [dings].
     -Australian slang for a lively party or celebration (variations: humdinger, wingdinger).
     -Person wearing a Canadian tuxedo (jean pants with a jean jacket).
     -Cantonese for the word "damn".   -return to the story

4.  Indeed, my linguistic knowledge of Taiwan was so poor that I couldn't even distinguish whether dearest Ding Ding spoke Taiwanese Hokkien (spoken by about 70% of the population of Taiwan) or Taiwanese Mandarin (the official language of Taiwan).   -return to the story

5.  Isn't it amazing how her name just rolls off the tongue?!?!?   -return to the story

6.  I must to admit, that at that time, while still under the influence of Ding Ding’s charms, that I would have committed to most anything.   -return to the story

Firsts

Hello and welcome!

This here is my first venture into writing.  As such, I feel that I should provide you with a brief background and explanation.

After years of unique and interesting experiences^[1], several requests from friends to talk about my life, and a desire to begin telling some^[2] of my stories, I've decided to start writing about select experiences.  There isn't any real rhyme nor reason to my writings, at least not at the moment... I'm just telling stories in the way that I tell stories.

At the moment, there are two basic categories of posts, stories and current travels.  I endeavor to write a story and/or post my current travels about once a week.  For your ease of navigation, you might follow these general ideas (of course, you could just visit frequently and read everything that I sling out there...):

General Idea #1:  The stories are titled with one to two words.  Most of these stories have happened in the past and I'm just beginning write them down. These follow no particular chronological order nor any sense of cohesiveness; it's just me rambling away.

General Idea #2:  My recent travels are posted under the title "Travel Log".  This is where I'm at in the world, at least sort of... I hope to make these more a log of my travels, hence the name I have given them.

Considerations:
As you will undoubtedly notice, I have a tendency to write long and complex sentences.  For better or worse, this is how I think.  Instead of trying to trying to change, I'm going to allow you, dear reader, a dark and scary look into my thought processes.  May all that is holy protect you as you suffer through this ride!

For an even more terrifying observation into my psyche, check out the footnotes... just sayin'...

I sincerely hope you enjoy.  I am ultimately writing for myself.  So, please don't mind the edits, changes, and various what-nots that will take place as I work towards a finalized version.


Footnotes:
1.  You should read this as "crazy situations resulting from misguided wanderlust and a panache for finding myself hip-deep in atypical situations".   -return to the story

2.  Only some, mind you... I wouldn't want you to know ALL of my stories...   -return to the story