Made in Japan, Outsourced Globally

Old friend, old posts

2009-05-03T10:10:00.001-07:00

I came across this post from a while back, and now I remember why I became friends with Drake in the first place (he gave me such sage advise - eloquent too!). We were all on the same boat once, and how long have we struggled in our moral dilemmas? Not long enough, apparently, as I am back in the same spot again 4 years later and stewing in the same thoughts.

But really, the main reason I'm friends with Drake is because we function on the same wavelength - both in the serious things in life as much as the crazy funny. (And maybe Digs may have paid me to get you off his back ;) I love you, bro.

You betta' Belize it, lone madarass!!!

2009-05-02T18:38:00.000-07:00

Warning: I had a great time with an intimate circle of friends in Belize. So if this post seems a little self-pleasing and loaded with inside jokes, well, you've been forewarned.

We could not belieze it (yes, pardon the pun) when we first got to Bannister Caye. We got on a catamaran (I was definitely thinking "I'm on a boat!") and celebrated Jam & Paul's wedding at a private island. The Belikin and Rum Punch were free-flowing, and Belizians and random internationals were having a great time together. We jutted away from Belize City with our hair flowing in the wind.

This was probably one of the most amusing weddings I have ever been to. The easy-going Belizian sense of humor just put all of us in the right mood. There were lots of laughs (especially over the Michigan-Belize sister state connection - who'd thunk it?) and a beautiful exchange of vows by Jam and Paul, followed by well-wishes from friends and family (and Gautham - he is a category of his own).

Digs gives his 3 advise to Paul (right). Anwar (Jamel's father) fashions a celebration cigar (left).

Let's rewind a bit... We all arrived a loose-knit group of friends and acquaintances. Well, in the words of Ogden Nash, Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker. The warm Belizian breeze, lapping of the aquamarine sea, and the easy-flowing Belikin seemed to resolve that within the first 20 minutes of meeting each other.

Some of Team Croatia is represented here (plus the Drakes). Good clean family fun, right guys? Jan and Joe are absolutely wonderful - they sometimes outpartied the twenty-something year olds.

Mixing up the Belizians and the Americans. This is a wonderfully distracted photo of everybody at the pre-wedding dinner table.

Matt & Digs (a little creepy - what's going on here, guys?)

Digs, John, Surya - it's always amazing how Digs shows up from far-away lands. Tell the Sphinx (Abu-Hol) that we say "Hi!" Surya is on a Caribbean journey, as he heads to Haiti after Belize.

John & Dana (left). Gautham and Kim - Gautham is either looking dreamily at the Belikin... or perhaps he may have had a few too many. There were more people (sorry - you guys are all VIPs in my book), but I failed to take good pictures of them - I blame the Barrel 1 and Coke.

When in Belize... you have to have a Belikin (the national beer, marked with the icon of Mayan ruin, Altun Ha). To the right, the restaurant has a sense of humor: "Today's Special: No Special"

Last night, I dreamt of San Pedro...

San Pedro is a quirky little island with 3 streets (Front, Center, Back Street), where tourists and locals alike drive around in golf carts. Supposedly Andrew Zimmern from the Travel Channel had visited two weeks before to do a show (which will air some time in September) - I don't know what he ate, but the seafood was pretty good here (Seafood Lover's Platter @ Fido's, baby! Delicious :). On the way back, we embarked on small airplanes that resembled dust-croppers, and we handed the staff laminated boarding passes that said exactly that: "Boarding Pass" (they don't mess around here).

We also had a chance to see a local football match, which was played on a small court, much like indoor soccer (you definitely do not want to be in front of the goal when the striker comes at you - short distances and powerful kicks. Ouch!) We watched a match between the Sugar Boys and Lily's Treasure Boys, which ended with Lily's Treasure Boys kicking butt 6-1 and Belikin bottles being thrown on the field by angry fans. Hooliganism is universal.

Perhaps the good life in Belize can be best described in a souvenir T-shirt I got:

GO CRAZY
Tan in coconut oil
Dive with the sharks
Play with the sting rays
Feed the crocodiles
Swim the riptides

Thank you for supporting your local paramedic
BELIZE

You have to hand it to the Belizians. They have a good sense of humor. I love it.

The gang took a much anticipated snorkeling trip. Our boat was called Suya 1 (c'mon Surya, it's your boat!). This was one of the best snorkeling experiences I have had. With that said, it was sad to see that a lot of the corals were dead from bleaching.

Say hello to the Moray eel :)

There was a red and pastel green fish that was at least 2-feet long. Does anybody know what it's called???

Haha - who was wearing that Bucky shirt???

The Drake brothers (+ Gautham) - Before & After

Needless to say, good times were had on San Pedro. We had a surprise Bachelorette party for Jam, and she had a great time. I'm not 100% sure about where the guys ended up... We all went out with a bang on the last evening, closing down Fido's. An awesome punta rock band was playing, and we even got Gautham to go on stage (I don't think I have laughed so hard). I also now have some favorite punta rock and soca songs (Lay di Pipe and Julie Mango are still playing inside my head as I look at the photos).

Ah, Belize... it's already calling me back...

Happily Ever After

2009-05-02T18:19:00.000-07:00

... well, we'll see about that (and you have a life time to see that through). But for now, these two have tied the knot, and we're very, very happy for them :)

In Belize City

2009-05-02T16:57:00.000-07:00

I'm usually the adventurous type and would have had a fantastic time cave tubing or visiting the Mayan ruins of Belize. But a different side of me (probably the better half) said that I wanted to do some good while in Belize.

To be absolutely honest, it was an ego inside me that was hell-bent on getting to know more about Belize -- I was wary of being a tourist for the past few overseas trips and needed an excuse to get to hang out with the people of Belize.

Sister Cecelia Home for the Elderly is a government-sponsored nursing home for the needy older Belizian citizens (it is within the HelpAge complex in Belize). Approximately 40 senior citizens of various cultural backgrounds were at the home, and I was there for a day to deliver some donations from the group and to help out (in any way possible).

When I asked the home supervirsor if we could donate something, she asked for artificial sweeteners and toiletries because such imports are expensive in Belize (photo above). It was quite amazing how much we were able to donate by having each of the guests contribute. I think we had nearly 5,000 packets of Sweet & Low and 15 lbs worth of soaps and shampoos. Well done, team!

I really wasn't that useful, being a volunteer for only a day. Ultimately, I felt that I gained more than contributed to the home. I would chat with the ladies, all sitting in a row on the benches as they stared out at the courtyard.

Me: "It's a good day, isn't it?"
Lady 1: "It's a good day."
Lady 2: "Whaaaat? I can't hear you..."
Me: "(slightly louder and more articulate) It's a good day."
Lady 2: "Whaaaaat? Gial, I can't hear very well...."
Lady 1: "It's okay. She can't hear well."

This went on for about 10 minutes, and then everyone would stare out at the garden.

Me: "So, why don't you go talk to the men over there?" (the men congregate in the front of the home in a breezeway).
Lady 3: "Oh, those men are okay. My husband was a good man."
Lady 1: "Oh yes, ma'am. My husband was nice. But dey no good anymore, because dey are gone."
Lady 3: "It's nice to have a man."
Me: "Oh, then you can find me a good man. Where can I find a good man in Belize?"
Lady 1: "Oh, I don't know where you can find a good man. Good ones are hard to find. Men are no good when dey go away."
Lady 2: "Whaaaaat? I can't hear you..."

I wasn't quite sure what to make of the conversation (it's hard to keep a straight face when listening to the sing-song, whimsical chats of these women). I hold the hand of the lady who has a hard time hearing, and she holds my hand tightly. We communicate through touch - her cool, wrinkly hand gripping tigther when she gets excited and speaks about her husband. All of the women have pretty braids in their hair. I later see one of the helpers braid their hair, and a line of women wait happily for their turn. Perhaps they find comfort in the touch.

There is a varying degree of dimentia and disabilities among the residents -- some are absorbed in their own world and others are barely mobile. On the other hand, there are others who are quite self-sufficient mentally and physically. I have a conversation with one of the ladies with a beautiful smile.

Me: "How are you today?"
Lady: "Oh, ma'am. I am doing very well."
Me: "That's fantastic. Tell me about yourself."
Lady: "Ma'am, I used to be a teacher. Yes, ma'am. I was a teacher since 16 and started getting paid for teaching when I was 18. I used to love teaching since I was very little. So much that I used to teach my dolls - 'You, recite the alphabet. That's right, 'A', 'B', 'C'!"
She giggles shyly like a schoolgirl that had just done mischeif.
Me: "Wow. That's a very admirable profession. You should be proud of yourself."
Lady: "Oh, yes ma'am. I used to teach young children, and I was teaching at a preschool just before I came here. The other lady can take care of the shool now though."

About 10 minutes later, something quite exciting happens. A van pulls up, and a couple dozen 5-6 year olds pile out. I see the same lady surrounded by the children in the front courtyard. The young preschool teachers tell the kids that she was a teacher at their school. They all greet her:

"Hello, Mrs. Puca!!!"

The children sing several songs (like "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands"), awaking even the sleepiest of the residents. All eyes are on this lady and the children. She is beaming.

The rain came and went that day, and we would move the male residents away from the courtyard when the torrential monsoon came (that's what it felt and sounded like). And they would wander back to the same spot once it receded.

I befriended one of the men, Ozzie, who was one of the more chatty guys. He would flash his two-teeth, jack-o-lantern grin and tell me about his life in Belize City. He used to own a hardware store. He worked in import/export. He used to have a wife, but she was gone. And his two sons lived in Belize City, but didn't take care of him (or possibly it was difficult economically - who knows, everyone has a story). He liked my name. It was one of his favorite drinks (I wasn't about to tell him that the drink was actually pronounced sak-eh). Throughout the day, he would cheerfully say my name when I walked by.

People like Mrs. Puca and Ozzie have agile minds, and they are very aware of their surroundings. Others were mostly staring quietly outside or turning inwards into their own world. It made me slightly sad. It's not that the these people need pity - far from it, they just need to live and to be treated with dignity.

I remember their faces vividly. The only thing I can do is to keep them in memories, since I cannot go back. Everyone I shook hands with would say, "When are you coming back?" I felt sheepish, telling them that it won't be for a long time or ever at all.

What I do remember are the domino games. The blind man who said, "Ah, a lady hand. I can tell!" Mrs. Puca's perfect teeth and smile. Chats with Ozzie. Even if they forget, I won't.

Book Report: The Google Story, Leaving Microsoft to Change the World

2009-04-17T09:57:00.000-07:00

I have been slacking on my reading for a while, and I am now finally finding some time to catch up. The Google Story was gathering dust on my shelf since an impulse purchase at Waterloo station in 2006. Since then, the world has changed ten-fold for Google, and it has multiple pet projects that continue to surprise the media (as seen on Google.org). What's refreshing about Larry Page and Sergey Brin, the 'Google Guys', is their purist pursuit of technology and mathematics. No matter how rich they become, they are probably unsatisfied and are looking for the next idea to "Wow" the world. Case in point: the use of Google Earth to map out geothermal energy and to detect potential infectious disease outbreaks. My bet is on them to be the first to come up with a user-friendly cloud computing interface.

The Google business development reaffirms my theory that "being the right guys at the right time in the right place" is a huge success factor for exceptional companies, along the ranks of Apple, GE, and Sony. The stars aligned for Page and Brin (enterpreneurial partner, VC funding, mentors, Stanford backing, dot.com timing), and they took the opportunity. These are smart guys, and there are lessons to be learned (both from their success and mistakes). I'm also deeply in favor of having a company with strong cultures and visions - these are the magic ingredients for successful companies.

Leaving Microsoft to Change the World was another book that I was recommended to read as I step back into the world of development. It's sometimes difficult to swallow the 'wealthy entrepreneur trying to make a better world' pill, but I think John Wood got it right. Above all, the success of Room to Read (an organization that helps open up libraries and schools in remote developing country villages through co-fundraising in the developed world and in the local community) speaks loud and clear that excellent business practices have a great fit with international development. (I also have a new-found respect for Steve Ballamer - sometimes you need bosses and leaders like him who are intimidating and rigorously number-oriented. I'm also glad my Dad didn't accidentally run him over).

The tides of social entrepreneurship is gaining critical mass today. To put simply, the desire for international development always existed and manifested in forms of international and state institutions (UN, World Bank, USAID), NGOs (CARE, VSO, Medicins Sans Frontierers, and other small NGOs), and private corporations (HP, McKinsey, Unilever). Then what is different today?

Here's what I think happened: Globalization exposed many business-savvy people to the remote corners of the world, and they became restless. There's a time and a place for the development institutions, NGOs, and corporations, but they weren't meeting some needs quickly enough in the eyes of the social entrepreneurs. Or perhaps institutional motives left gaps (e.g. - companies are thinking about the 'middle-bottom of the pyramid' and cannot possibly serve the lowest bottom of the pyramid). Globalization brought awareness, and social entrepreneurs thought they could do something about it. (*I do not mean to mitigate the impact or criticize the other entities - everyone has a role in development, and these organizations have been the bedrock of international development for decades, whereas social entrepreneurs are somewhat of a minority still).

Google regards realization of great ideas as their organizational objective. They also have a simple mantra: "Do No Evil", which encompasses the company culture. Their contribution to international development, therefore, is a residual of their great ideas and tools. John Wood left the corporate life to make education accessible to the children in Nepal and other remote villages his life-long mission. These seem like opposing approaches and goals (top down vs. bottom up, successful enterprise vs. spread of education in remote areas as a goal), but what's important to recognize here are the results. They are making tangible progress, and they feel good about it. Who said that you couldn't have your cake and eat it too? I think that's what makes the new generation of social entrepreneurs a little different from other oganizations - they are not shy about trumpeting their success and feeling good about the progress (there's also a PR aspect). I say more the power to them, because there's a lot of people and communities that can use all the help. It's a breath of fresh air and inspiring.

Fish scales from my eyes

2009-04-17T09:32:00.000-07:00

In Japanese, there is a saying "fish scales fell from my eyes" (「目からウロコが落ちる」）. It is a metaphor for being able to see clearly because something that was clouding your vision has been removed.

I had such an experience the other night, as a hodge-podge of MIT students, professors, and Net Impact members chatted over dinner in a semi-noisy bar. The conversation rolled on with interesting points of view, but the epiphany hit when my new acquaintance said, "All these social enterprises... they talk about scalability, but I think they've got it slightly wrong. Everyone has a technology or process and wants to replicate them in multitudes, but social enterprise is all relative and specific to each community. What you really need to 'scale' are smart entrepreneurs. An Indian social entrepreneur once said, 'You want scalability? Clone me. Have more of me working in communities. That's scalability and that's all you need!'"

I felt momentarily dumbfounded. I felt a little embarrassed that I haven't thought of scalability in that way - I was just as inclined to think that if a good technology or idea was created, it should be promoted as far as it could go. But if you slightly shift the idea of scalability to 'scalability of smart people who can do things', you have an improved strategy for development. I'm excited about this mini-discovery, because it changes the game a bit now.

Emergency Sex and Other Desperate Measures

2009-04-04T08:44:00.000-07:00

This book was recommended to me recently, amongst others, and I chose to read it first. Despite the skeevy, eye-catching title, it's more serious and covers a whole lot of ground in UN peacekeeping operations. I say kudos to the marketing.

It's a first-person account by a Harvard-grad lawyer (Ken), a New York social worker (Heidi), and a Kiwi doctor (Dr. Andrew) who were in the most dangerous conflict zones during the 90's. As they went from Condition Alpha ("All is clear") to Condition Echo ("End of the line, evacuate urgently to save your life"), escalating in danger and human travesty at each stage, I became more drawn and involved in their human drama. I think it's an incredibly honest account of being in the field - emotions, broken idealism, the need to believe in something, and the good days and the bad days.

The sweet vision of spreading democracy in Phnom Penh turned into chaotic cross-fires in Mogadishu, and eventually evacuations after 'black hawk down'. The US decision to pull out of Mogadishu had incredible domino effects, as Haiti and Rwanda quickly followed in anarchy. My blood boils each time I look at what happened in Rwanda (video: "Ghosts of Rwanda"). I wasn't as familiar with the violence and political backgrounds in Haiti and Bosnia; now the images of Dr. Andrew in the Haitian morgues and the bulldozed mass graveyards in Srebrenica haunt my mind.

Despair. Optimism. Individual survival. Altruistic visions for universal peace. Lust. Friendship. Cynicism. Humor. -- it's all mashed together in their personal diaries. It's an unforgettable read.

Cambridge musings

2009-03-26T06:28:00.000-07:00

I am so lucky to have very smart friends who are off to do wonderful things in the world. Sara is currently doing her masters in Urban Planning at Harvard, working on a favela project in Sao Paulo. After seeing an amazing lecture on "An Evaluation of Hernando de Soto's Agenda" at the Lincoln Institute of Land Management, we prattled around catching up on the last 5 years. It's moments like these that you feel genuinely fortunate to have crossed paths with people who are going to do significant things in the future.

ND - @ Princeton, working on and off in Vietnam, London, and Kenya
CT - @ Wharton-Brown doing a MBA/Masters program via BCG
JL - still in Silicon Valley, going from Accenture to Yahoo!
BLS - @ Barcelona finishing her MBA after working in CEMEX in Mexico
SC - working in China for BSR (Business for Social Responsibility)
STV - a triple major genius during undergrad, he went on to Harvard Business School and is now in Singapore working for the Economist Intelligence Unit
DB - after working in Egypt and Dubai, completed her masters in public policy @ USF and is now about to have a baby
CL - @ U of Chicago for MBA, after a career at Philip Morris and AmEx Financials
NG - just finished her MBA at INSEAD
CW - In India at the moment, working at a microfinance org and gearing up for an MBA this fall

I wonder where & what we'll be doing in another 5 years.

Fortune at the Bottom of the Pyramid

2009-03-26T05:12:00.000-07:00

After reading The Fortune at the Bottom of the Pyramid by C.K. Prahalad and an insightful observation by Chris, I have to agree with Chris that there needs to be a critical look at the Bottom of the Pyramid (BOP) model. (by the way, the video clips on the Amazon.com site for the book (link above) are worthy case studies that bring the model to life).

There were some colloraries and criticisms about the BOP concept. Mainly:
1. It has a heavy (if not pure) emphasis on the economic profitability from the poor. Prahalad's language is meant to lure MNCs and entrepreneurial investors, but the motivation cannot be sustained by financial profitability alone, since it will be a long time before the profitability will compare to anything that the developed world is producing today. It seems too much like putting the cart before the horse. If anything, from a global private sector prospective, the real powerful message is the potential to get an early access to the "future consumer market".

2. The theoretical framework of Prahalad's book calls for collaboration by government, private sector, public sector (NGO/NPOs), and the local community. However, in many of the case studies, Prahalad is biased towards the private sector, lauding their enterpreneurial solutions that could not be solved by government and NGOs. This is more of a personal preference, but such an opinion seems counter-intuitive. The government, private/public sector, NGO/NPO segregation and cooperation is a fairly modern model, and there are different trends with time (e.g. - late 60s was about private banking lending to 3rd world entrepreneurs and governments, leading to the debt crisis in the 70s with the oil crisis (source of private bank loans); hence the clamp down on private lending and the birth of World Bank and IMF as the global police on financial lending; 80s Regan and Thatcher led to a flurry of NGO/NPOs in 90s with emotional backlash on ultra-laissez-faire economics). Simply put, each institution/entity has a time and a place. This book was published in 2004 - can we laud the business community today with the same gusto as we face the 2008 subprime financial crisis? Most importantly, it is advisable to distinguish the "who" but not get distracted by who gets credit for success - creating a sustainable BOP model is a humble occupation.

Overall, it is important to recognize the poor not simply as dead weight but as a productive part of society. BOP has a role in itself to rally for such a recognition, and the businesses (as described in the case studies) are worth celebrating about. Many of them have tangible and social consequences beyond economic gains, such as health and a sense of confidence & worth in people. It is a refreshing change from schools of thought that concentrate on the middle class (which is also very significant to the business community - as seen in McKinsey Quarterly's study on the Indian middle class).

Brian Cox on CERN's Supercollider

2009-03-11T15:10:00.000-07:00

If I had all the time in the world, I would watch TED videos all day. It's just amazing how passionate Brian Cox is and how easily he can tell the story of particle physics to the layman.

Viva Brasil!

2009-01-05T18:34:00.000-08:00

"[... travel] can become a compulsion, though it keeps us away from friends and loved ones - sometimes even when we’re back. When I am away, I often yearn for home. When I’m home, I’m listless. I seem no longer to fit. History and literature are filled with characters who see Asia, or Venice, and can never go back to the way they were."
- Anthony Bourdain on travel writing as a profession, Best American Travel Writing 2008

I was bitten by the travel bug so long ago and so deeply - I fear I will never be cured. So it took a single e-mail correspondence with a fellow nomad to decide on a 2 week backpacking trip to Brasil for Christmas and New Year’s. We spat on our hands and sealed the deal.

Jenny (or Fang Hu, in Chinese) is one of the most seasoned, fearless travelers I know, whose travel resume includes most of Europe, various parts of China, Egypt, Kenya and the hinterlands of Cameroon. We share a common sense of adventure and mutual friends across the globe. It was also through Jenny that I was introduced to a beautiful, red-headed Brasilian girl named Alice and her wonderful family. It’s all so magical how things worked out. Jenny and I couldn’t have asked for a better way to experience Brasil.

Jenny, Saki, and Alice - eating a tapioca snack and drinking guarana at the Ipanema Hippie Fair

My motivation for going to Brasil was two-fold. First, as a student of development economics, emerging markets will forever hold my interest. I traveled to India when I was 21, which forced my eyes wide open. Two years later, I was pursuing my burning interest in the Chinese regional economy by moving to Hong Kong. Occasional business and leisure trips to Shanghai, Beijing, and Shenzhen enhanced my deep appreciation for the chaos this country is going through (and I mean this in both an optimistic and cautious way). In the meanwhile, the world coined a new term to describe newly emerging giants - BRIC (Brasil, Russia, India, China). I wasn’t about to miss out on seeing the phenomenon with my own two eyes before economists came up with new terms. (Russia will have to wait).

But aside from my intellectual ego trip, I had an even more pressing reason to visit Brasil. Everyone I know who has either lived or visited Brasil has feverishly extolled about the country. The beautiful people... The nature... The beaches! The music!! The colors!!! If Brasil was a confectionary, it would be equivalent to chocolate. If Brasil had a human characteristic, it would be an irresistible exotic lover. Everyone who has been touched by the country has a love affair with it.

Rio Fantastica

After a very productive and enjoyable work week in Campinas (in the state of Sao Paulo), my steps were light and cheerful as I headed up to Rio de Janeiro. It was steamy, humid, and summer - a delightful contrast to the winter season in North America. Jenny, Alice, and I enjoyed the various entertainment the city had to offer.

We enjoyed a relaxing first day on Ipanema Beach with some caparinhas and coconut juice - the works!

Ipanema Hippie Fair - you can buy various handicrafts, clothes, and musical instruments here.

A view of Rio de Janeiro from Corcovado (hunchback hill) is splendid, made even more glorious by the presence of Cristo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer statue) - an undeniable icon of Rio.

I was quickly enchanted by the colorful and vivacious atmosphere of Rio. We would often start the day with fresh fruit juice - many of which were "firsts" for me, such as caju (cashew fruit), açai (fruit from a certain kind of palm tree), and maracujá (fresh squeezed passion fruit). We would then make our way to a small eatery for a sandwich or a buffet (which often included variations of meat).

Here, we are having a typical, non-stop meat fest at a churrascaria (Porcao in Rio). And the caparinha de maracuja was amazing - Saude!!!

The food in Brasil is something to be discussed at great lengths. First and foremost, meat is the main diet, and churrascarias (Brasilian BBQ) are not to be missed. Mouth-watering sirloin steaks, rump steaks, ribs, humps, and some oddities like chicken heart are certainly worth the nice ritzy restaurants. Some other typical Brasilian dishes include stroganoffs, feijoada, and grilled or fried bacalhau (dried cod) - all of which should be accompanied with some rice and beans. And if you want to get away from the heavy stuff for a bit, you can enjoy some sushi. My personal favorite, however, is the palm heart and I could not get enough of it (it tastes like something between a white asparagus and an artichoke heart).

It’s Time to Hit the Beaches

In Rio de Janeiro, there is an overwhelming magnetic force, and it all points to the beaches. As you work your way from the North, you hit Leme, Copacabana, Ipanema, and Leblon - each with a slightly different characteristic. I couldn’t help noticing all the beautiful people - tall, dark handsome men with green and blue eyes; hourglass-shaped women with shockingly colorful bikinis; dimpled mulatto children with curly golden locks; fashionably-aged carioca couples walking hand-in-hand.

A typical day at Praia Copacabana. A Havaiana (or two, or three) is a must when in Brasil.

With that said, the beach is an interesting ecosystem altogether. There is unabashed modeling of banana hammocks and triangle bikinis that cover just enough to be modest. For every fit and sculpted body shape, there is an equivalent (if not more) display of wobbly bits. Many people lay on the sand for a roast and an occasional dip in the sea to cool off. There are also lots of activities going on - kite flying, Frisbee, squash, body building, and a beach foot-volleyball game. Even the pastiest foreigners blend in after a couple days under the Brasilian sun. I was bronze after two days, turned "rotisserie chicken gold" in a few more, and eventually became "extra crispy" by the end of the trip.

A Walk Through the Favelas

The real "Cidade de Deus (City of God)" is based in the western part of Rio, far from Ipanema and Copacabana - but most of the outside world hastily associates the favelas with the violent and dangerous setting depicted in the Academy Award nominated film from 2002. I was just as naïve.

There are a handful of "favela tours" today, allowing tourists to look at the lives of favela residents from a safe distance. Rocinha is one of the most famous which has these tours, and most of the tour proceeds go toward funding a daycare or educational facilities.

The tour we joined advertised with an ironic catch phrase, "Don’t be a gringo, be a local!" No local Rio resident would ever dream of touring a favela. There is a moral awkwardness when "touring" the lives of the poor (dubbed "poorism" by some modern travelers) as if going to the zoo, and then returning to the regular vacation program of drinking caparinhas on the beach after a 3-hour tour.

The houses are more well-established than what I had imagined. In Rocinha, there were two medical facilities, a post office, and a main street that sells sundries (I even saw a pharmacy lined with boxes of L’Oreal hair colorant boxes). The children either show great interest (or amusement) in the tourists or ignore us completely.

Favela, by definition, is a squatter community. Rapid modernization made it impossible for workers to rent or own property in the city, and they began building houses illegally on the hills. Favelas are overcrowded with very little room for expansion (some creative souls build vertically) - the best way to describe it may be "organized chaos". Despite the negative reputation, favelas are an integral part of Rio - approximately one in four residents are said to be from the favelas, many of whom work as maids, busboys, and street sweepers in the city.

In an effort to keep kids off the streets, graffiti art is encouraged - some of the artists even sell them to tourists. There were also other handicrafts, such as a chair made from PET bottles and bracelets weaved out of old telephone copper wires.

There is no use in romanticizing life in the favelas, but most of the residents just want to live in peace and to get out of poverty. According to our guide, 10% of the favela residents are involved in the drug trade. In Rocinha, the leading gang sells approximately US$4 million per month worth of drugs and is headed by a 23-year old boss. This surprised us at first, but then again, an average life expectancy of gang members is 18 years-old. Favelas will never go away, because the there are practices and politics that sustain them. But we can hope that positive progress will be made, most likely driven by the young generation’s desire to get out of the current situation.

Family Away From Home

As travelers, we are sometimes privileged to get a glimpse of the local culture. By great fortune we were invited into not only the homes of some wonderful people in Rio, but also into some of the most intimate celebrations during the holiday season. I am forever grateful to them for their warmth and hospitality.

Jenny and I were invited to a family lunch at Uncle Marcelo’s house in Santa Teresa.

We also joined Alice’s family for Christmas Eve dinner and New Year’s Eve celebrations. There must have been close to 30 family members at every party we went to.

Alice’s family on her mother’s side is extremely talented in music and the arts. Some of the family members are professional musicians and artists. Most charming of all is Grandpa Celso, who plays the piano for everyone after dinner (he also composed music for each of his 8 children). We also enjoyed many chats with Grandma Celina, who told us of her many worldly travels (their house is full of cultural artifacts from all the places they have traveled, including a collection of 202 owl sculptures). At each festive gathering, we could feel the incredible strength of family bond and love.

We were also lucky enough to be hosted by Alice’s grandparents on her father’s side, who are retired farmers from Minas Gerais (today, his sons manage the farms. They grow coffee and cacao, as well as cattle for dairy). Grandpa is a die-hard Carioca who patrols the beach every day (hey, someone needs to keep an eye on the sea, the beach, and the lovely women!), and Grandma enjoys watching telenovelas and American movies. We had a lot of great laughs, despite the language barrier.

These homes were filled with laughter and warmth - Brasil holds an extra special place in my heart because of the two families.

Out and About

Rio has a lot to offer, but you can’t ask two rambunctious travel fiends to stay put in one place when there are so many wonders in Brasil. Jenny concocted an ambitious schedule, and we headed North, South, and Southwest - Buzios, Ilha Grande, and Foz de Iguaçu - each with a unique beauty.

We endured some long bus rides, but it was all worth it. The Brasilian countryside of rolling verdant hills whizzed by, spotted with red clay-tiled roofs and children’s kites that twirled like inverted confetti. At night, we could see a star-dusted sky or the orange-yellow lights from the favelas against the pitch black.

Lovely Buzios - a posh beach town with architecture that remind me of Japanese houses.

The sunset we saw on the way back to Rio was out of this world...

Cataratas de Igauçu (Iguaçu Falls) - a breathtaking natural wonder! Its magnificence is shared by three countries - Brasil, Argentina, and Paraguay. Eleanor Roosevelt allegedly exclaimed "Poor Niagara!" when she first saw it.

Garganta de Diablo – aptly named, as it means "Devil’s Throat"

I look nice and dry here, but we actually went on a boat ride called Macuco Safari, which took us directly under some of the waterfalls and drenched us completely. We were begging "no more!" after a couple times. The experience is something between "refreshing" and "being beaten down by force of mother nature."

Just chillin' by the waterfall. The park was full of these strange creatures with long snouts, called coatis, which are a part of the racoon family.

Jenny went a little crazy with the jackfruit (she grabbed one off the tree, but it was not ripe yet. Hence the sad face). Immediately after this photo, tragedy strikes again, as the jackfruit left a sticky goo on Jenny's shirt.

Praia Lopes Mendes on Ilha Grande - a vision of paradise. This island is a little gem - you can hike in the jungle, relax on the pristine beach, or go scuba diving/snorkeling to play with the sea creatures.

nomadlife - from Ilha Grande with love!

In the evening, we danced to live samba in the town square.

Feliz Ano Novo! Adeus, 2008. Olá, 2009!!!

Although it would have been nice to stay on Ilha Grande, we couldn’t miss New Year’s Eve in Rio. We quickly changed into our New Year’s attire (everyone wears something white), and joined Alice’s family for a delicious New Year’s Eve dinner.

Copacabana was in full festivity, with fortunate people partying in sea-view hotels and apartments. The rest of us took our spots on the beach, anticipating the countdown and the fireworks.

The beach looked like a sea of white, already an incredible site. We later heard that 2 million people gathered on Copacabana to celebrate. Here’s to a great new year - Feliz Ano Novo!!!

I left Brasil with joy in my heart, rhythm in my veins, and a sun kissed skin. Like my friends, I fell in love with Brasil. And just like that, I was converted.

L'auberge espagnole

2008-10-08T19:17:00.000-07:00

It was an impulse buy, and it was worth every penny.

Some of us have been lucky enough to have lived in our own version of "l'auberge espagnole". When your dining table becomes a UN meeting and your refrigerator and bathroom become the battle zone. Where the "back home taste" is both peculiar and familiar, and you discover new poisons of choice to feed your intoxication -- Scotch, Raki, Beherovka, Tokaji wine, or Soju. You adopt new mannerisms, vocabulary, and insults. And dearest of all, you recognize and embrace how different the other person is, will always be, and love them whole-heartedly for it.

Why we travel

2008-10-04T07:54:00.000-07:00

I loved reading Mixmaster's post and felt a twinge of jealousy for not being able to eloquently phrase "why we travel." Then I saw NY Times' slide show on the same topic, and I began to ponder more on my own reason why.

It is difficult to sum up the logic, because there are so many reasons why we travel. Perhaps it is to see the unknown. Perhaps it is to grow. Or to escape. To find ourselves. Some times it is to reunite with a familiar face. Of all the reasons, however, I find the strongest force is the desire to connect.

When I travel, I want to connect with the place. At times, I have to fight the urge to say, "this place reminds me of ____." Other times, I don't fight the urge. Because somewhere inside, there is a desire to connect the things we know with the things we don't know. Either way, I want to somehow find my bearing when I am in a new place. An emotional anchor that helps me understand why I wanted to go there in the first place.

Sometimes these anchors are in the air. The vibrant atmosphere, the humidity that sticks to your shirt, the smell of street food, the rhythmic music that is foreign but pleasant in your ear. Sometimes you see it in the scenery. The majestic mountains, the concrete jungle, the mesmerizing body of water, the gravitas of history chiseled in the architecture, the heart-achingly beautiful sky. I love the feeling of being small when I see such sights - we are mere specks in the magnitude of the earth and the universe. This feeling heightens the sense of wonder.

The other connection is really with the people. It never ceases to amaze me how hospitable some cultures can be to strangers. In return, I wonder how hospitable I have been to others. And it humbles me. Other encounters are not so kind, and it leaves me guarded, sad, and furious. This makes me wiser and question why such things happen. But for the most part, experiences are almost always positive because I learned something. It leaves me feeling empty when I pass through a journey without much interaction with the local people and fellow travelers. That is the real tragedy.

Again, why do we travel?

I want to connect. With the past experiences and biases on my shoulder, I want to step forward and make a new footprint. There is something exciting and bright in the future, and all the traveling is a fuel that feeds the engine.

Long way round

2008-09-29T21:39:00.000-07:00

I have been meaning to get my hands on this, and finally managed to figure out "what" exactly I was looking for (meaning the book. Now that I have seen the website, I am contemplating if it's worth dishing out cash for the DVD).

I think someone mentioned in passing that Ewan McGregor visited the Skull Church (Kostnice in Kutna Hora) in the Czech Republic. I have yet to read that chapter but am enjoying the ride, as I leaf through the pages.

Holy Tainted Batman!

2008-09-29T21:14:00.000-07:00

White Rabbit Creamy Candies contain unacceptable levels of the chemical melamine, New Zealand Food Safety Authority and Australian food regulators said Wednesday." (CNN)

"Melamine is commonly used in coatings and laminates, wood adhesives, fabric coatings, ceiling tiles and flame retardants. Some Chinese dairy plants have added it to milk products to make it seem to have a higher protein level. Melamine is the same industrial contaminant from China that poisoned and killed thousands of U.S. dogs and cats last year.

Health experts say that ingesting melamine can lead to kidney stones, urinary tract ulcers, and eye and skin irritation. It also robs infants of much-needed nutrition."

What's even more appalling is that it wasn't just one company -- officials have already found 22 companies that practice this chemical mixing. That's 1 in 5 suppliers! (BBC News)

And you'd think that the non-nutritional fake milk scare in 2004 would have taught the industry something... They didn't stop with malnourished babies with swollen heads, but kept on going with poisoning domestic pets and babies with the consequence of ulcers and kidney stones.

This will certainly change the attitudes of Chinese consumers.

On Pop Culture

2008-09-08T21:39:00.000-07:00

What is "Pop"?

Pop culture = popular culture

It's interesting how the connotation seems to have evolved over time. Pop culture is "popular" because it is pervasive over the masses, yet the notion seems to be that you want to be slightly above the "masses". When did we become so cool?

The height of this peculiar contradiction (in my mind) was the late 90's alternative rock period. It was 'superbad' to be anti-establishment and un-main stream - which is what everyone was trying to be (and therefore, a popular culture).

When speaking of anti-establishment, there was a time in Soviet Russia that secretly listening to smuggled Western pop music (such as the Beatles) was the hip thing to do. That, however, was less mass pop, and more 'rebel with a cause.' (And the truly cool kids would have underground Gagarin raves, which was even edgier & fringe, mocking nation-state pride for the thrills).

So returning to the original contest of "bubblegum pop" vs. "better than the masses snobbery pop"... Brittney is the former, and Nirvana would be the latter (Cobain probably taking it to the ultimate expression of this sentiment against "selling out"). The connotation of pop culture seems to change over time - more like in a pendulum pattern of soft and hard.

I'm simplifying it too much (fashion, film, fads, celebs... these all factor in too), but I don't think I'm too far off. I just find it ironic.

Strangely enough, I think this all started with an idea in my head that I would rather meet Brian Warner than James Blunt in person (you know, the things you think of laying awake at night). I wouldn't listen to Marilyn Manson but still enjoy having "Back to Bedlam" in my car stereo. Strange, I know.

I may resent the bubblegum pop but am still attracted to it. On the other hand, I'm still in the anti-establishment mindset, wanting to wade slightly above the masses.

Suffocating Rubber Clown Suit

2008-09-06T13:12:00.000-07:00

-- David Lynch, The Air is on Fire (exhibit at the Cartier Foundation in Paris 2006)

THERAPY

I went to a psychiatrist once. I was doing something that had become a pattern in my life, and I thought, Well, I should go talk to a psychiatrist. When I got into the room, I asked him, "Do you think that this process could, in any way, damage my creativity?" And he said, "Well, David, I have to be honest: it could." And I shook his hand and left.
-- David Lynch, Catching the Big Fish - Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity

I went into Chop Suey (a local shop that carries used & unique artsy-fartsy books), looking for Banksy. I left the store, minus the Banksy book (although am still contemplating if it is coffee table-worthy since I last saw it in a hip-hop shop in NY), and plus a David Lynch book.

I didn't necessarily know what the book was about, but after leafing through random pages, excerpts like the ones above made me laugh out loud in the store. It was imminent that I needed to buy the book.

The Air is on Fire was absolutely brilliant. A series of disturbing multimedia exhibits on canvas, headache-conjuring black + white films, and an unforgettable wall paper of dissected poultry and fish on the way to the bathroom. An enigmatic brilliance of dissonance and discomfort.

I devoured the book in two sittings. I leaf through it randomly for inspiration sometimes.

Hotaru

2008-09-05T18:15:00.000-07:00

Fireflies remind me of summer.

As I jog down to the neighborhood park, I catch the scent.
An earthy, distinct smell.

The nanosecond is packed with the strong, poignant burst of firefly particles.
The air is filled with the bitter-sweet foolishness of youth.

Life of a firefly is surprisingly dim, living as a juvenile larvae most of its life - underground or on tree barks.
Then it becomes a 2 week debutant, encouraged by its natural urge to mate. A mad debauchery that dictates its life course, which it probably doesn't even comprehend.

The images conjure contradictory feelings of pity and jealousy.
The poor creature expends its light and energy for that single moment of pleasure. A flashy climax. Lights dim. Curtains close. Then death awaits its atrophied shell.
The last thing it feels is euphoria and assurance that it passed on its legacy to a new life.

The thought fills the back of my throat with a dry, pungent flavor.
Like acidic tannin in a bottle of red that is too young, it leaves its bitter rinds on the palate.
It makes me gag.

I jog away, trying to break free from the spell of summer.
Fireflies - they remind me of summer.

The uplifting

2008-08-26T18:47:00.000-07:00

I insert Jay Chou into my CD player. The sky dims and I am back in Europe, caught in the traffic jam around the Arc de Triomphe. Clement laughs (flashing his perfect teeth), and we both burst into laughter. I visit Paris (the city), only to listen to Taiwanese rap through the romantic Parisian scenery. A mismatch that leaves a memorable imprint on my first Paris trip.

I slip back further, and I am walking through the steamy streets of Lan Kwai Fong in Hong Kong. Paris (my Ozzie chum) and I were having a beer on the terrace, and we headed down to the bottom of the hill to catch a cab. We see an abnormal number of Chinese girls with cameras... and we follow their line of sight... to see Jay Chou... and a crew of lights & cameras. It turns out to be a filming of a Jay Chou music video, and Paris and I almost walked right into it. Needless to say, we are giggling like school girls at the sight of the Taiwanese pop star eating at our usual corner eatery.

Nostalgia is a funny thing - it was my uplifting of the day.

Dance Dance Dance

2008-08-25T18:16:00.000-07:00

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

Since Drake & Jam did not come up-country this past weekend, I stole this from Drake's blog. It's the least he can do. We may not have traveled as far and wide as Matt, but we can at least do a little jig... in Austin, Split, and on a cruise boat in Belize.

p.s. - Matt reminds me of my Polish/accordion-playin'/GTA-obsessed ex-roommate Andrew. I wonder how he's doing these days.

Bike Rider's Club

2008-07-29T19:59:00.000-07:00

A lot of weekends are not worth mentioning, but I keep on thinking back to a recent weekend in New York with my Colombiano amigo - Omar. Not only is he an awesome guide of NY (he knows it like the back of his hand, and his love for the City is second to none), but he is also a perpetrator of "all things unique."

He mentioned that he volunteers on Sundays to cycle around New York with kids and was wondering if I wanted to join. The answer was obvious, and we were awake as much as we could be at 9 on a Sunday morning (well, I was nursing a hangover and scraping out a raspy voice from singing on a rooftop the night before).

Hilarity ensued when we had to figure out how to get me to the bike recycling shop. After two bus rides, one missed subway, and few jogs around Queens, we arrived at the shop. I was turning all shades of green and blue, but all's well if you can fake it, right?

There's not much that can top the faces of kids who learn how to change gears on their 5-speed, climb up an incline, being chased by yellow cabbies... and do it all without stopping. There's also something about seeing awe-struck expressions of kids when they ride by Ground Zero. A fathers told his story of how he drove by the World Trade Tower hours before the crash. A realization that they are in the presence of a place of emotion and universally recognized site of humanity's tragedy.

One of the most important lessons learned is building the confidence in riding safely through the City. Hopefully, many of these kids will adopt the habits of biking to school and work in the future. For now, they ride the loaner Fuji bikes from the recycle shops. But they will soon want a bike of their own, and they will learn to take care of it.

As for me? I am going to get a nice and cushy spandex if I am going to take up cycling for real. 'Nuff said.

best Lily Allen song

2008-05-25T17:30:00.000-07:00

Alright so this is a song about anyone, it could be anyone.
You're just doing your own thing and some one comes out the blue,
They're like,
"Alright"
What ya saying,
"Yeah can I take your digits?"
And you're like, "no not in a million years, you're nasty
please leave me alone."

Cut to the pub on a lads night out,
Man at the bar cos it was his shout,
Clocks this bird and she looks OK,
Caught him looking and she walks his way,
"Alright darling, you gonna buy us a drink then?"
"Err no, but I was thinking of buying one for your friend..."

She's got no taste hand on his waist, tries to pull away but her lips on his face,
"If you insist I'll have a white wine spritzer"
"Sorry love, but you ain't a pretty picture."

Can't knock em out, can't walk away,
Try desperately to think of the politest way to say,
Just get out my face, just leave me alone,
And no you can't have my number,
"Why?"
Because I've lost my phone.

Oh yeah, actually yeah I'm pregnant, having a baby in like 6 months so no, yeah, yeah..."

I recognise this guy's way of thinking...
As he comes over her face starts sinking,
She's like,"Oh here we go.."
It's a routine check that she already knows, she's thinking they're all the same.
"Yeah you alright baby? You look alright still, yeah what's your name?"
She looks in her bag, takes out a fag, tries to get away from the guy on a blag, can't find a light,
"Here use mine"
"You see the thing is I just don't have the time."

Go away now, let me go,
Are you stupid? Or just a little slow?
Go away now I've made myself clear,
Nah it's not gonna happen,
Not in a a million years.

Can't knock em out, can't walk away,
Try desperately to think of the politest way to say,
Just get out my face, just leave me alone,
And no you can't have my number,
"Why?"
Because I've lost my phone.

Oh I said you better Run, run, run...

2008-05-25T17:11:00.000-07:00

Don't you know
They're talkin' bout a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Don't you know
They're talkin' about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper

While they're standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
Wasting time in the unemployment lines
Sitting around waiting for a promotion
Poor people gonna rise up
And get their sharePoor people gonna rise up
And take what's theirs

I wonder how many "second lives" we get. If I adhered to the old adage about a cat's nine lives, I am probably half-way through. I feel as if I am walking around with blinders and need to wake up. I say it's time for a revolution...

Flying Colors

2008-05-18T13:36:00.000-07:00

There are times when it feels like everything is moving too fast. These things tend to freak me out, and I end up just stopping dead in my tracks.

Tested Nerves

2008-05-05T20:08:00.000-07:00

Everyone has a threshold. It's only when people break that others (and even more importantly) the person who is broken realize where the "threashold" is.

What makes us go to that point is a mystery. Some times it is self-instigated, and it can also be the surrounding environment. Ultimately, I choose "experience" as the measuring stick. If the person experiences a monstrous event early in their life, he/she can either be crushed or learn from it. In some ways, it is more fortunate to have it happen when you are young. It shapes you for the rest of your life.

Another way "experience" can shape someone's life is to be a close witness to another large event. If one can learn from it, it becomes either a cautionary tale -- or it can go the other way and become an indirect trauma that he/she carries for the rest of their life.

We live with our past. And if one lived as Captain Happy all their life, some traumatic event will eventually catch up to him.

A friend once said that "everyone in the world has the same amount of happiness, regardless of where they are born and their disposition." We debated heatedly, but I secretly wished that he was right. In the end, we are all born from dust and we all disappear as dust. Whatever happiness was felt during our lifetime is infinitesimal and can only be felt in the first-person capacity. The utility of happiness is probably never equal nor measurable, because I can never peer into another's mind to size it up against mine.

Despite all that, the romantic in me wants to believe that "happiness" of a person is made up of one's self-generating happiness and others' contributing pieces of happiness. Stupid jokes, bouquets of flowers, winning a bet, lazy Sunday mornings, watching one's favorite TV show, talking about nothing with friends and laughing until your stomach hurts... these all add up to someone's "happiness".

If happiness can be accumulated, then I think the act of being broken is when happiness is down to the bottom of the barrel. I wish that there's some things I can do before the barrel runs dry.