Nocturnal Submissions

New Baby Alert

2009-08-07T13:30:00.003-05:00

Magnolia True Caroline Abdine was born at 9:10pm on Thursday, August 6th. I'm guest posting at the moment at my wife's blog so check out http://paisleypigpress.blogspot.com for more details...

Sake & K-Mart In Central California

2009-03-09T00:26:00.008-05:00

It was at 4:29AM when the thought jolted me out of my restless, rice wine-induced sleep. “Oh crap. I don’t know where my suit is.”

1350 mile flight from Austin to LAX with checked baggage.
2 rented Hummers (the first loaded, driven for 15 minutes, returned, unloaded and switched for a less-ashtray smelling replacement.)
315 miles drive from LAX to Mammoth Lakes, CA.
2 nights at The Westin resort.
2 nights at The Village resort.
2 days of boarding in epic snow and weather conditions.
.3 days of Winter Storm Advisory strength wind sandblasting off the patches of facial skin not covered by my goggles and facemask.
.7 days of Mammoth Brewing Company beer drinking.
1.5 hour off-road Hummer expedition through mud, rain and snow in search for the hidden “locals only” hot springs.
4 bottle crash course in the complexities of unfiltered Sake

… and somewhere in between a missing garment bag carrying the only courthouse-appropriate set of clothing I packed for my “might as well add in a few snowboarding days since I have to fly and drive all the way out here to sue the ATV rental store owner who stole $4800 from me last summer in Bishop, CA” fantasy vacation.

Is it in the car? – Probably not, but a barefoot jog in boxer shorts to hotel parking just to be sure… Nope.

Did I leave it in the closet at the Westin? The graveyard shift front desk telephone operator could only apologize that the housekeeping manager with the key to the lost and found closet would not be in for another 3 hours. “Call back at 7:30 and she can check.”

No hope to fall back asleep now! My mind raced.
“Why did I not think to find/iron/lay out my suit before?
What am I going to wear to the courthouse in 5 ½ hours?
Snowboard pants?
Frayed cargo Pants and a damp Oakley T-shirt?”

8:15am – Another call to the Westin confirms the worst-case scenario – no garment bag was found. And new guests are staying in the room I checked out of so they can’t ~~break-in~~ check the closet.

So the plan B outfit calls for jeans and a thin, fitted sweater – both smelling of Paiute Palace Indian Casino smoke and late night Pita Pit beer munchies.

My internal dialogue is reduced to “crap crap crappity crap crap” as we check out of our hotel, feed the H2 its hourly 20 gallon meal and start the drive down the mountain to almost certain humiliation.

And then… as we round the corner on Interstate 395 into the Bishop city limits, a beacon of light…

K-MART!

“Sorry Jeremy, breakfast will have to wait.”

Slacks complete with oversized pleats and the Comfort-Action Perfect Fit™ elastic waistband: $19.97.
Dress shirt with matching brown and tan checkerboard tie circa 1983 with “touch me to feel the quality” cutout in plastic box: $39.95.
Instant wrinkle removing “Iron-In-A-Can” spray: $1.09.
K-Mart brand v-neck tee: $5.42.
Not smelling like a gyro with extra tzatziki and hummus: Priceless.

Quick change in the K-Mart store restroom (yes it was as traumatic as you might imagine.)

20mph over the speed limit to drive the final 2.3 miles to the courthouse (please no tickets on the way to court!)

Final adjustments to the tie as I walk through the courthouse doors (is my zipper down?)

And 5 minutes later…

“We will now proceed with the first case; Abdine vs....”

Shoppin with Paisley

2008-10-03T22:15:00.001-05:00

"Ok Paisley, Since Mommy's out of town at Andrea's bachelorette party in Vegas , you're stuck with me this weekend. So here's my offer, we'll go to the park, play in the fountains at Town Lake and chomp on snow cones all weekend long. All that I ask in return is for some cooperation while daddy goes shopping."

…at least that was my idea.

Armed with toys, Pirate Booty and yogurt crisps, we ventured into the chaos that is the Nordstrom Half Yearly Men's Sale. Things went well - for about 5 minutes and then Paisley decided to exert her independence.

Stroller? Unacceptable to sit in, but fun to ram into other shoppers!

Pirate Booty? Certainly not for eating, though excellent to decorate the floor with.

Yogurt crisps? Best used for sucking on just long enough to soften for use as finger paints on the $185 Diesel jeans.

Toys? Perhaps it would be fun to plan a scavenger hunt for daddy!

I gotta give credit to the sales guy who offered to help corral her. Commission sales is a powerful motivating force. But ultimately, we had to abort mission due to my Tasmanian Devil in tow.

How does mommy do it?

Therapy

2008-02-26T14:14:00.006-06:00

Long day at work? Unruly customers? Dog pissed on your shag carpet?

I never realized that a video game could double for therapy, but after wailing out Boston's Foreplay/Long Time on RockBand, I stand corrected.

Sure... there's an element of 14 year-old nerdiness in picking up a toy guitar and pelting out the appropriate finger combinations to simulate the lead guitar notes of a 70's era arena rock anthem. But when the family's out of the house and i can turn up my 6 channel, 400 watt surround sound system to 11, there is no denying my inner rock god.

Perfect Austin Day

2008-02-25T22:22:00.004-06:00

These are the days that make you forget that 4 months out of the year must be spent hiding indoors from the humid, bug infested 98 degree summers.

Spring and fall, with the occasional balmy winter day make it all worth while. We woke up yesterday to one of these epic Austin days.

75 degrees, dry and breezy. Gentle sun with a few passing clouds and a brilliant blue, crystal clear sky.

Friends in town visiting from Houston. I start the day Mtn. Biking with Jeremy and Tim at Walnut Creek. Melissa's got Paisley in the jogging stroller and touring the townlake trail with Jen and Eliza

Exercise feels good. It also means its much easier to rationalize ordering the extraordinary Freddie's Place "Velveeta Burger." The cheese fries and onion rings round out the meal. Good thing there's a playscape to play on with the kids to help burn off the processed cheese.

Our friends have to bail (boo). So Miss, P and I go for another family walk around town lake to enjoy the sunset. We hear faint music in the distance. Huh? There appears to be a DJ spinning records with a small crowd of people dancing on top of the hill adjacent to the Lamar Bridge. Our curiosity draws us nearer to find a makeshift gathering of families, older couples and club kids dancing, hula hooping and flag twirling to (really good) house music. We have flashbacks of the random street parties we encountered in Prague...or did we suddenly get transported into a Diet Coke commercial...? We can't decide, but no matter. Paisley is dancing and practicing her hula hoop skills.

Culture? What Culture?

2008-01-20T10:34:00.000-06:00

Have you ever thought about what an American cultural presentation would look like? What would you do? Line Dance? Sing “Achy Breaky Heart?” Perform a skit about our guerilla warfare tactics against the British?

A portion of the drop-in center afternoon was set aside for a cross-cultural presentation – an opportunity for both the South Africans and Americans present to share their culture.

The kids and youth leaders were excellent, entertaining us with traditional Zulu songs and dances and an expertly choreographed anti-Aids dance performed by the teenage youth volunteers.

The best us Americans could come up with?

1) Sing the U. of Texas fight song
2) Perform a football skit using a half empty liter of bottled water as the ball
3) Sing “Take Me Out To The Ballgame”
4) Repeat The Pledge Of Allegiance
5) ~~Stumble through~~ Sing the national anthem.

And yes, it was about as awkward as it sounds.

Joy And "Pop"

2008-01-19T11:00:00.000-06:00

Hungry, poor, orphaned, yet still hopeful. Joyful even! I’m still trying to process my experience today. Am I feeling sorrow for them? Pity? Only a thoroughly chilled heart could ignore the emotions wrought from the eyes of a hungry child who’s lost one or both of their parents to AIDS. But there is a lot more to their story than the sad headlines that precede them. It only took a makeshift game of duck-duck-goose and a meal shared on the dusty floor of the classroom for me to break through their numbed exterior and see the children still living inside.

Children wear their emotions on their sleeve. Strange, quirky looks greeted us when the kids first arrived to the weekly after school “drop-in center” program my mom has helped engineer. It’s weird enough that a white woman shows up each week to help the local youth and adult volunteers cook, feed and play games with them, but now it seems the white woman has multiplied!

We joined my mom to assist with feeding the kids, and to learn about the program she orchestrates, but it didn’t take long before the event turned into a festive multicultural party. We played games, snapped pictures, danced and sang together. I even taught them the Hookem’ Horns hand gesture (picture about 40 little 5-10 year olds running around flashing their Hookem’ Horns and singing “The Eyes Of Texas” – yes… that’s my legacy in Africa…).

The afternoon concluded with the meal which consisted of cornmeal porridge “pop”, mashed potatoes, a thin tomato stew and two links of sausage, all generously donated from the Afrikaans community in Bethal. While nutritionally mediocre according to Western standards, the meal provided one of the few significant meals for the kids that week. It also presented an opportunity, and challenge for me to eat with my hands… not exactly an easy task when dealing with soupy consistency foods.

The kids have it down, forming their fingers into a scoop, similar to a Japanese soup spoon, then using their thumb to shovel the food into their mouths. I must have looked silly to them with my feeble attempt to emulate their technique, resulting instead with lips, chin, shirt and fingers covered in tomato sauce and cornmeal mush.

Clothing Donation

2008-01-15T18:54:00.001-06:00

Melissa and I have generous friends and neighbors. In less than a week, we were able to cram the largest duffel bag REI sells with about 70 lbs of donated baby and children’s clothes to donate directly to needy families in the township where my mom works.

It was a long, tortuous (especially on my shoulders and neck) process, but I finally had the opportunity to share our friends’ generosity today.

We asked Delisile, one of the community leaders my mother works with, to identify and gather some of the neediest families in the township to pick through the donated goods and it appears that every item compressed into the bag will be put to immediate use. I only wish I knew a way to ship more items without the ridiculous shipping fees the USPS charges…

Differing Opinions

2008-01-15T18:45:00.000-06:00

Seems like there is a difference of opinion about what to name some of the streets in town. Many street signs in the white part of town, recently changed from the original Afrikaans name to decidedly more African designations by the elected, black city government, have been erased with a few swipes of a spray paint can.

Good to see that the city planners – and some of the residents are directing their time and money on the really big issues in Bethal instead of the deteriorating roads and public buildings, not to mention the massive number of poor, hungry and sick living in the neighboring black slums. This is strange… like a weird passive-agressive cultural chest-thumping match.

Off The Tourist Map

2008-01-15T18:40:00.000-06:00

My travel book, claiming to represent all things South African doesn’t even have the city of Bethal listed in the index. So I guess this means the cultural portion of my trip has begun?

We arrived into Bethal last night following our Kruger Safari. My mother was placed here by the Peace Corps and is 1 ½ years into her project to develop an after school program to feed, clothe and support the many orphaned and at-risk children in the black township neighboring this mostly white, Afrikaans town.

I don’t know what to expect though I’ve already heard some pretty strong opinions voiced about this tiny little town 2 hours away from the nearest major city.

One of the more colorful descriptions was voiced by the British ex-pat that managed a guest house we stayed at on our drive back from Kruger.

“Bethal?” He grumbled, shaking his head. “It’s a miserable place.”
“Why is that?” I prodded.
“Afrikaaners. Very conservative.”

Conservative? I wonder what he means by that? Perhaps he is referring to the holdover resentments from the massive political transition that took place in the mid 90s? Similar to some of the prejudices and mistrust that still inhabit the dark corners of the Southern US.?

This city of Bethal…a city of contrasts; cautiously exploring the uncharted waters of cultural integration, while still holding on to many of the misconceptions, distrust and fears that characterized the repressive ex-Apartheid political structure.

Or so I have been told.

Everyone I’ve met so far has been friendly, gracious and seemingly passionate about the opportunity for change.

Big Guns And Mountain Bikes

2008-01-15T03:33:00.000-06:00

Rule #1 while touring Kruger: Do not get out of your car.
Rule #2: Don’t stick your head, arms or other appendages out of the window or sunroof.
Rule #3: If in doubt, refer to rules 1 & 2.

The game wardens don’t mess around with this message. There is even a program in place where you are encouraged to snitch on your fellow holidaymakers by submitting digital camera pics of their misdeeds and license plate to the authorities.

Obviously they have good reason to provide these rules and warnings. Most every animal larger than the African Tortoise would likely have no trouble making short work of a hornless, clawless, fangless, slow moving (and quite succulent with nice marbling) Anglo if offered the opportunity.

So when I saw the advertisement for the Mountain Bike Safari Tour, I immediately signed up.

Better yet, the ride was right smack in the middle of the park: no electric fences, no protected areas. The same wild bush that we have been warned ad-nauseum to stay out of.

Huh!?

The artillery answered a lot of questions. The tour is conducted by two veteran game wardens…with BIG ASS 458 caliber elephant guns – making me slightly more confident of my chances of returning alive – until it was revealed that this tour is pilot program ONLY conducted at the rest camp we were staying at and that we would be going to a different location than the norm due to the increased muggings by AK47-weilding Mozambiquan raiders who sneak over the border to poach elephants and tourists’ wallets.

The tour began with a 20 minute drive down a private road to the trailhead. We unloaded the bikes from the jeep and then the lead game warden went over the rules – very carefully:

1. You will always ride behind us in 2 lines.
2. Absolutely no talking. Remain completely silent as we ride. We will make a number of stops at which point we can chat quietly. (“Here Kitty Kitty Kitty??”)
3. If we encounter game on the trail, I will raise my hand and you will immediately stop riding, gently rest the bike on its side, and follow my partner to a safe location. I will stay here and negotiate with the animal.
4. Under no circumstances will you run. Only gentle movements.
5. If I say “down”, you will immediately crouch to the ground without hesitation and stay crouched until I give you the all clear sign.

“Ok is everyone ready to ride!?” he says with a slight smile on his face.

“Umm, s-s-sure.” We stammerd.

“So have you ever used your gun on one of these rides?” I ask warden #1.

“Yes, once.” He replies. “Elephant.”

We start our ride and fortunately we don’t encounter any pissed-off elephants, hungry lions or attack giraffe, but a Canadian girl on our ride did have to have a fist-sized, bird eating spider brushed off her head after accidentally riding through its web.

The big payoff was the hippos. After 3 miles of riding through twisty trails, we deposited our bikes in a small clearing and walked down to the edge of the Olifants river to watch a dozen hippo fight, bellow, eat and snort their way into the evening.

After the 20 minute show, we walked back to our bikes, taking a short detour to a small stream to rinse of my shoes after I (like a properly “stupid American”) accidentally stepped into an ankle deep mud and clay pit. .

The ride was a highlight of my trip, exciting, unusual, and a little intimidating. I was a tad disappointed we didn’t encounter any dangerous game during the ride though. It seems that the animals in the area that evening weren’t in the mood for a high fat and cholesterol meal of American fast food.

Kruger Park Safari

2008-01-12T00:01:00.000-06:00

The “safari” portion of our trip began at 7am Friday morning as we drove through the entrance gate of Kruger National Park. Recognized as having the densest population of big game animals in the world, visitors to Kruger not only have the chance to view the “big 5:” Lions, Elephants, Leopards, rhinos and buffalos in their natural habitat, but will also routinely find wild giraffe, hippo, baboons, zebra, crocodiles, hyena, wildebeest, warthogs, impala and other antelope. The park is an expansive piece of protected wilderness, roughly the size of Massachusetts with numerous camps interconnected by mostly paved and a few unpaved roads. Visitors are allowed to take their own unguided tours via car on designated roads, but are expressly forbidden to step out of their vehicles anywhere on the roads outside of the electric fence-protected camps.

We had the privilege of a personalized, guided tour by locals, my mom’s Afrikaans host family; Louis, Elise and their son Stefan. Their navigational expertise throughout the park and miraculous ability to spot wildlife proved indispensable. We hit the animal jackpot:

Elephants:
Elephants are everywhere in Kruger. Since they have no natural predators (other than humans) their population has exploded inside the secure confines of the park. It’s quite startling to roll around the corner and find a massive African elephants chewing on grass alongside the road.

Giraffes:
We saw a few of them during our stay, though it was mostly of their backsides as they walked away when we approached. Of all the animals we saw, they seemed the most skittish around cars.

Hippos:
There were tons of hippos in all the ponds and rivers, though none as close as the one doing the hippo ballet in the video. She was a mere 25 yards from our car.

Lion:
We probably would have missed this guy if it weren’t for the 6 other cars parked on the road watching him. He was too far to photograph, but the 10x zoom on my video camera brought him into view.

Warthogs:
All the warthogs we saw were a farther away than preferred . This family was digging around for food near a larger herd of impala and zebra. A favorite snack of the many predators in Kruger, they’re apparently also tasty according to human standards as per my uncle Steve who sampled warthog ribs during his stay in Cape Town.

Buffalo:
I have some video of the ones we saw, which were grazing way off in the distance, but I think this classic YouTube video also filmed right here in Kruger Park is much more compelling…

Impala:
We started referring to Impala sightings as “JAI” (just another Impala) as they were everywhere… the most reliable viewing of any animal. Stefan also noted their other nickname: “McDonalds Drive Thru” due to the M shaped coloring on their rear coupled with their abundant availability for the park’s predator population.

Fruit Bats:
These guys were chillin' under one of the restaurant huts at the Skukuza camp in Kruger. I’m not sure if I could enjoy my lunch like the others in the video. It smelled similar to the bat colony that lives under the Congress Bridge in Austin.

Zebra:
We had quite a few Zebra sightings. They often grazed with herds of Impala.

Baboons:
Chacma Baboons were often seen chilling in trees, but we saw a few, including this monster in the video by the road.

Leopard:
It’s rare to see a leopard, but one in a tree…next to a road is even more unlikely! We were a ways away, so the best picture I could muster was by holding the camera lens up to one of my binocular lenses. It didn’t think it would work, but apparently it does… sort of.

Ground Hornbill:
We found these rare birds doing their dance (mating?) amongst a larger group of Zebra, Impala & Buffalo.

SLIDESHOW OF ALL MY KRUGER PARK PICS

No Cell Service

2008-01-11T00:39:00.001-06:00

Just our luck that the Vodacom cell towers in Kruger go offline as soon as we enter the park. No cell and no landlines (all forms of voice and computer communication use Vodacom). In fact, the only way to contact the outside world would be to drive 3 hours to the nearest town bordering the park or to find someone with a satellite phone – both unlikely options. It’s going on 48 hours since I’ve last chatted with Melissa – the longest period of time ever… and quite frustrating, though oddly appropriate out here in the wilderness.

Hippo Crossing!

2008-01-08T02:33:00.001-06:00

Saw this on the way to Kruger Park - right outside of Nelspruit, a fairly decent sized town!

Lightning Strikes

2008-01-08T02:31:00.001-06:00

I live in Texas. I’ve seen some gnarly thunderstorms before. Torrential rains, gusty winds, noisy crackles of thunder overhead – all par for the course, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in a storm as sudden and vicious as the African doozy that caught us off guard on our way to the local market.

We had just arrived at the guest house in the smallish town of Whitriver after a half day drive North from the Johannesburg airport. Since we can’t do any driving in the park at night (lions will eat you, rhinos will gore you, elephants will step on you, hippos will….you get the picture), we stopped here for the evening to rest up before another full day drive into the heart of Kruger National Park for our 4 day safari.

We saw the ominous clouds as we approached the town and figured we’d get a shower or two but since people who enjoy retaining their money and personal possessions don’t go driving around at night in this part of Africa, we were on a limited schedule to get back out to buy snacks and fluids before dusk.

The rumbling began as we departed the guest house. 5 minutes later the whole sky was aflame with electrical explosions and thunderous booms.

When the lightning struck ground 100 yards from our Van, we decided to turn back and postpone our refreshments run for safer times. How ironic to be downed by a bolt of lightning 24 hours into your grand African adventure!

Sleepless In Schiphol

2008-01-02T16:20:00.000-06:00

As if their questionable comprehension of the classic rock genre wasn’t enough, I discovered a new fun fact about the Dutch this morning.

You can’t buy Tylenol PM in the Netherlands without a prescription.

This information was reported to me at 4:30 am from the sundries store attendant next to my hotel. At first I thought I heard her wrong blaming my sleep deprived mental fog or her thick dutch accent, but when she pointed to the practically useless Melatonin bottle behind the counter as my “only option” all I could do was shake my head and shuffle back to the hotel in bewilderment.

So kids, feel free to enjoy all the marijuana, hash, psilocybin shrooms and peyote you want… Just remember to say NO! to the NyQuil.

In Search Of Frostbite

2008-01-02T16:17:00.000-06:00

When I packed for my African adventure I felt like I had all my bases covered; light summer clothes, Tevas, wide-brimmed hat, sunblock, bug spray, malaria medication and a 20 piece Sees Candy gift box of Bordeaux and nut-caramel chews.

Problem is, my 24 hour Netherlands layover happened to be in the Northern Hemisphere, which happens to be – like most of the rest of the Western world right smack in the dregs of winter.

So here comes ‘stupid American’ Alan waltzing off the plane wearing cargo pants and a thin poly-blend Old Navy t-shirt noticing immediately that there is not one other person in the whole airport who is wearing less than a down and rabbit fur winter coat.

Luckily my hotel was connected to the terminal, so I rushed to the room, changed into the warmest piece of clothing I packed – a thin poly blend long sleeved t-shirt Banana Republic t-shirt – and headed out for a stroll around the city center, figuring that fast walking and frequent ‘coffee verkert’ stops would provide a reasonable defense to the 32 degrees-and-dropping climate.

That turned out to be an ill conceived plan as well (see upcoming “still cold and now wired and can’t sleep” blog post for more details.)

But – I WAS in Amsterdam so there were plenty of distractions from the telltale tingling and numbness sensation invading my fingers and toes.

Since I didn’t have any particular destination in mind, I selected the first brightly lit street I could find from the train station – and quickly realized that most everything other than the alcohol, cannabis and flesh peddling establishments would be closed in observance of the New year’s holiday forcing me to revise my objectives from walk-around-and-buy-Miss-and-baby-presents to walk-around-and people-watch-while-looking-for-pubs-that-have-good-Belgium-Beer-on-tap.

After a few hours of fighting for space in crowded pubs, getting bumped in the street by stumbling Spanish and Italian teenagers blazed out of their minds and mouthing the words “no thanks” to the bikini-clad working girls propositioning me from their red-hued glass cages, I had had enough and figured passing the rest of my time in Amsterdam asleep at the hotel would be a better option.

What A Fool Believes

2008-01-02T02:07:00.000-06:00

It’s 8:52 PM, New Years Eve and my night so far has consisted of 2 scotch rocks, a bottle of Vittel, some mushy, but oddly flavorsome curry and the Classic Doobie Brother’s tune “What A Fool Believes” blaring in my ears.

God, what a miserable song. Is this what the Dutch consider classic rock?

On a bright note, these business class seats aren’t too bad.

KLM Flight 602 departed LAX at 5:30 pm en route to Amsterdam. I’ll have a hopefully-restfull-but-probably-not 24 hour layover in Amsterdam and then another 10 hour flight to South Africa to visit my Peace Corps volunteer extraordinaire Mom.

It’s a rough thing leaving a rockin wife and baby. I’ve worked my whole life trying to convince girls to kiss me and now I’m leaving two! But I suspect the shear shock and awe of my upcoming experience coupled with my recently enriched SkypOut calling account will help me pass the two weeks away relatively unscathed.

Sadness And Joy At Christmastime

2008-01-02T02:03:00.000-06:00

What a surreal experience… to be exquisitely joyful while suffering the sadness of loss.

Two days before Christmas, we lost our pup Moby. It was disturbingly sudden. One moment, we were enjoying a pre-Christmas dinner with Grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, the next moment struck with the hot, gut-pinching emotion of sudden loss.

We didn’t sleep the night we received the call – the silly pup played himself to death!? He was only 6, but his heart couldn’t keep up with his will to run around and around and around and around…

But then we emerge from our restless night to find our pigtailed daughter squealing with the delight one can only obtain from banging brightly colored blocks together.

We laughed with her…
then cried….
then mimicked Paisley’s strange but joyful gurgling noises…
then dreaded our inevitable return home to find Moby’s long hidden chew tows wedged between couch cushions….
then basked in a sunny morning family stroll…
then comforted our equally stricken dog sitter through her own grief…
then played ticklemonster…
then…

Melissa Is Finally Blogging!

2007-12-15T17:18:00.001-06:00

...and Paisley is her muse. It's nice to see her joining the "sphere."

Check it out... http://paisleypigpress.blogspot.com

The Lazy Man's Blog Post

2007-10-30T23:49:00.000-05:00

One of the nice things about having a kid is that it's easy to satisfy my readership (all 3 of them) by simply posting new pictures of Paisley. Yea its the lazy way out... but hopefully more will be on the way soon!

Paisley - 6 months

Paisley - 7 months

Paisley - 8 months

Reverend Alan’s Farewell Tour

2007-10-30T23:03:00.000-05:00

When I originally became an online-ordained minister, I never intended to make a business of marrying off all my friends. I figured God would forgive me – once – for manipulating California’s liberal marriage laws. But a second time? I’m not so sure.

When my good friend Joe (supposedly) first asked me to marry him, I didn’t hear him. So goes the next 4 months with me oblivious to my (supposedly) promised marriage service duties and him planning out the wedding around my (supposed) services.

I’m still not sure how the misunderstanding began… perhaps I was in denial? Spaced out due to my persistent insomnia? Or maybe he didn’t really ask me like he thought, instead assuming I would gladly assist being such the good friend that I am.

I was happy to do it of course. And in retrospect, it worked out much better anyway since I only had to stress out about it for a few months.

Friendly note to brother, sister and single/engaged friends: Despite rumors to the contrary, my days as a web-appointed conductor of marriage ceremonies has come to an end. I look forward to participating in other ways such as planning bachelor parties, drinking your wine, enjoying you DJ/Band during the reception, and all other activities that do not cause sleepless nights, writer’s block, sweaty palms and stress headaches.

Joe, Deb

As you embark on this exciting journey as a married couple, I’d like to speak today about different representations of love.

Some common representations of love, at least according to Saturday morning cartoons and big budget Hollywood movies, usually involve cupids, love sick squirrels, pimply-faced pubescent nerds who win the heart of the homecoming queen or they recount an epic fairytale about a dashing protagonists named Wesley rescuing the fair maiden Buttercup from the evil Prince Humperdink while avoiding Sicilian criminal geniuses, pituitary gland challenged ex- wwf wrestlers and expert Spanish swordsmen with ridiculous mustaches.

These perspectives provide great movie fodder, however they fall short when challenged with the sober realities of real-life. Sure, we see a glimpse of the excitement that new love can provide, but can that adrenaline rush support a lifelong commitment? More importantly, is it fair to expect ourselves to sustain that crescendo of emotion?

If looked at from a different, angle, there is also the sacrificial element of love. And when I say sacrifice, what I really mean is surrender, concede, or capitulate! No, of course I’m kidding. There IS however an important sacrificial element to the commitment you are making. This sacrifice represents your willingness, to be challenged by different opinions, to be patient and understanding even when you know you’re right. And to accommodate your partners concerns, even when it’s inconvenient, unpleasant or uncomfortable. It also means Deb, that you need to be understanding of Joe when he’s grumpy… which as we all know is a pretty common occurrence.

And this sacrificial love leads in to the final description of love I’d like to talk about today which is the faithful, committed kind. You will experience peaks and valleys of emotion during your life together. Sometimes you will be cruising through your days & weeks on autopilot, with mild to moderate chop, skillfully avoiding thunderhead’s that you have become so adept at detecting, while other times you’ll feel the rush of a full-throttle take-off into crystal blue, sun-soaked sky. Either way, your consistency, reliability and steadfast devotion to each other through these variable conditions is what will make your marriage so exciting and important.

Honey-Do List

2007-08-03T01:42:00.000-05:00

During our pre-Paisley days, my chores usually consisted of the standard issue husbandly duties such as:

Taking out the trash
Putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher
Cooking 90% of meals
Rubbing wife's feet while watching Entourage
Rubbing wife's shoulders while watching Big Love

Now, however, my responsibilities have become much more technical. So here you go Miss, we are now up to date with uploaded baby pictures on the blog!

2 months...

3 months...

3 months part 2...

4 months...

5 months...

Hawaii trip...

Mission Impossible: Accomplished (sans the baby benadryl!)

2007-08-03T01:37:00.000-05:00

By the way, Yes. Prayer works.

How do I know? Because we weren't thrown off the plane to or from Hawaii. I'm happy to report that our daughter decided to grace us with 5 hours of relative silence and solitude to and from Hawaii, despite the flight attendant who could only speak at 70 decibels or louder even while staring directly at a sleeping Paisley in Melissa's lap.

Our first family vacation was a roaring success though I quickly realized that vacations with baby are radically different than trips as a young, exuberant childless married couple.

With a 5 month old in tow, the quality of the accommodations and room service are exponentially more important because the vast majority of our time is spent on the hotel premises verses, say, snorkeling with giant sea turtles or eating wild guavas on a nature hike.

Not to say we didn't have a good time! It was much cooler to chill on our hotel room lanai watching the resident hotel dolphins perform back flips than suffer through another week of a muggy Austin summer or smoggy Redlands July. And munching on sushi while Elizabeth Taylor sips Mai Tais at the bar next door aint too shabbby either.

Certifiably Crazy

2007-07-11T19:28:00.000-05:00

…is what we are for having the audacity to take our 4 month old on a 5 1/2 hour plane flight to Hawaii. At least according to conventional wisdom.

But you know… screw it. I'm tired of hiding from public view so as to not (gasp!) interrupt some first class snob's cat nap for the 5 minutes it takes Paisley to gurgle and burp herself to sleep.

Here's a quarter, invest in some foam ear plugs.

Am I being selfish?

I say no. Since this trip really isn't for me. I think baby's first vacation is way over due. She seemed to develop a travel bug around month 2 and hasn't ceased in her pleas for a family trip.

Apparently she wants to swim with the turtles.

Furthermore, its not like this will be her first foray into air travel. With 2 successful trips between Austin and SoCal and one trip to Kansas City, she's well on her way to earning her wings. Hopefully we'll once again avoid hitting her self-destruct button…though we'll bring the baby Benadryl just in case.

Thine Poo Floweth Freely

2007-07-10T23:47:00.000-05:00

It’s not hard to describe all the funny/happy/surprising events one enjoys as a father. One simply needs to act the journalist, happily reporting on the day's events:

My kid is so advanced…

My kid is so cute…

My kid is so funny…

My kid is (add adjective here)

The complications arise when describing those “other” interesting parental experiences. The ones that every parent suffers through but are, for the most part, kept safely hidden from public consumption lest we scare off other would-be breeders from the joys of parenthood.

Fore example, how does one describe a catastrophic baby poo incident without devolving into snickering juvenile potty humor?

My solution came unexpectedly one day while Melissa rummaged through her old high school letters and school work. Out came an inspired and hilarious limerick she wrote in her 12th grade creative writing class about - get this - Richard Nixon! Incidentally it had nothing to do with Nixon as a President, his public persona… or really anything remotely distinguishing any part of life. It WAS however a brilliant snapshot of Melissa's 18 year old brain and a reminder that you can flower up any type of subject matter for poetic purposes.

But what form should my pooriffic poem take?

Haiku? Free form? Sonnet?!

Of course! A Shakespearean Sonnet! I'll just call upon my old friend iambic pentameter to bail me out (once again):

Bursting t'words heavens blue; bisque streams exhumed

So spew-ith ye bum in lupine relief.

Calamitous fallout! White chair consumed

Bewildered clutch I bleach pen and kerchief.

But after the first quatrain I began to question my sanity.

My Baby Is Smarter Than Your Honor Student

2007-04-15T22:45:00.000-05:00

Sure, every parent considers their child to be advanced, but seriously folks, Paisley is operating at a whole ‘nother level.

Like just yesterday she rolled over onto her back from her tummy with nary a nudge from her daddy.

What’s that you say? Big deal?

Well did you know that babies aren’t even supposed to do that until they’re like 4 months old?

Still not impressed? Well after she rolled over, she sat up and asked her mom for her boob.

And I’m not talking about whining and grunting which most babies are reduced to these days.

Seriously, she pointed her stubby little finger at Melissa’s rack and demanded: “Mom! Boob!"

Yea, it totally caught us off guard because up until that point, Paisley only communicated with us and Moby telepathically.

Ha ha, I know; its quite a thing to watch your daughter debate tax policy with your pug while she's calibrating your home theater system.

Click for the new set of pics!

Bad Influence

2007-04-14T21:56:00.000-05:00

C'mon Melissa... ALREADY!?
Can't we start her off with something a bit tamer? Like Big Lots or the 99 cents store?

The Obligatory Texas Wildflower Picture

2007-04-13T23:58:00.000-05:00

One beautiful spring day during my second year as a University of Texas undergrad, a strange sight caught the corner of my eye as I barreled down IH35. Off to the right side of the road, a young couple stood motionless, staring at the grass covered hill running parallel along the highway. Their car seemed fine, they didn’t seem distressed. They just stood there, staring at the ground and pointing.

“More Texas weirdos” I mumbled to myself as I drove by…

Then a few days later, another young couple - also staring at the ground, this time with a a camera; no car wreck, smoking hood, or flat tire in site.

Luckily, this time around my travel companion happened to be a native Austinite who educated me on the Central Texas tradition of taking pictures of your new baby surrounded by Bluebonnets during the 6 to 8 week-long springtime wildflower season.

Great idea I thought, but on the side of the freeway??

Sure, the highways are gloriously abundant with swaths of blue, pink and yellow Texas wildflowers – thanks in part to the Ladybird Johnson-inspired Texas Department of Transportation’s wildflower planting program, but certainly there are safer photo-worthy locations to be found in Austin!

Luckily I found such a place. So in my unrelenting attempt to play the part of the consummate texas wannabe, here are Paisley's safely-taken-out-of-harm's-way Texas wildflower pictures:

(click for more!)

Here they are...

2007-03-28T01:44:00.000-05:00

It's a strange thing when the theme of the vast majority of all the phone calls you now have with your family focus predominantly on 1) when you're going to post new pictures of the baby on the blog and 2) why you've been such a slacker with posting new pictures of the baby on your blog.

What happened to the good-ole standby questions:

1. The weather looks like it sucks in Texas. Is it humid?
2. The weather looks like it sucks in Texas. Is it raining?
3. The weather looks like it sucks in Texas. Is it hot?
4. When are you coming to California?
5. When are you moving back to California?
6. Tell me again why you are living in Texas?
7. C'mon... Texas? Really??

So now that I've posted new pictures of the baby (see below) here are my answers to the other inquiries for the month of March.

1. Yes
2. Yes
3. Yes
4. July, maybe May
5. Don't know
6. Good margaritas, no state income tax and 2000 sq. ft houses for less than 700k
7. Yee Haw!

(click each to see the whole set)

Paisley at 2 weeks:

Paisley at 3 weeks:

Paisley at 1 month:

The Truth: Finally Revealed

2007-03-11T23:38:00.000-05:00

"Where did all that hair come from?"

Is what everyone seems preoccupied with.

Are these inquiring minds challenging my paternity rights?

The very farthest, darkest reaches of my mind are challenged by these questions.

Certainly a Dannielynn Hope Marshall Stern-esque paternity fiasco could never transcend the pop culture barrier into MY family life...?

And then suddenly, a picture arrives in my inbox - sent to me by a concerned but anonymous "interested party."

So I ask you fair reader... you be the judge!

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Melissa has alot of explaining to do...

Parenting Lesson #1 - Babies Are Not Pugs

2007-02-26T00:52:00.000-06:00

After six days as a father, I like to think of myself as having remarkable acumen in baby matters.

So after extensive research on the matter - and understand, I'm still working on this hypothesis - I've discovered that unlike agitated or unruly dogs, you can't just give your daughter a treat to shut her up...it seems babies require a bit more subtlety and patience with their care.

It was at about 2:38 AM a few nights ago, while sweet little Paisley Grace screamed baby curse words at me, when the futility of my child care philosophy exploded in a fury of tears, screaming and poop.

Previously, the basis of my baby care understanding was:

1. If baby is crying, then baby must want a treat (aka 'boob')
Therefore, wake wife and give baby a treat.

2. If a treat doesn't work, then wrap baby up like a burrito.

3. If burritofied baby continues to cry, then emit white noise from mouth in baby's ear .

4. If shushed, baby-burrito still cries then stuff pacifier in baby's mouth.

Unfortunately, I never considered what would happen if, after reaching item 4, baby continued to cry.

It seems this parenting thing is going to be slightly more complicated than previously thought. I wonder what Harvey Karp would do...?

And now for some more pictures (click on either to see whole set)

...and some boring home videos that only an in-law would love:

Family Nap

2007-02-23T18:23:00.000-06:00

The Abdine power structure in a nutshell.

Introducing...

2007-02-19T13:17:00.000-06:00

I’m happy to introduce you to the new member of our family; Baby “P,” AKA Paisley Grace Abdine.

She was born 6 pounds 8 ounces, 20.5 inches at 12:12pm on Monday, February 19.

Momma and baby are doing great. Both healthy and happy.

Daddy on the other hand? Oh heck, what can I complain about… all I had to do was tell her to push and hand her the cell phone.

(click on the pictures below to jump to the full collection.)

Labor And Text Messeging

2007-02-19T11:09:00.000-06:00

I think Melissa would be a good subject for Cingular’s next ad campaign:

“The new Motorola V3i Razor is so easy to use, even a woman in labor can use it.”

My terminator of a wife was actually text messaging her friends while in the final stage of labor.

Alan: “Breath and two and three and four…”
Melissa: click clack click click [send]
Alan: “Ok, baby, here comes your next contraction… Breath and two and three…"

I guess the epidural worked.

Unauthorized Photography

2007-02-19T10:05:00.000-06:00

After witnessing first hand the epidural needle in all its horrific glory, I decided it would be cool to record it for future demonstrative purposes… you know, when the inevitable cocktail-party conversation springs up describing, in detail, the process of jamming a 3 inch, 18 gauge spike into one's spine during childbirth.

Unfortunately, the anesthesiologist about to do the jamming didn’t share my enthusiasm and immediately vetoed the idea as soon as I pulled out the camera. Sheesh… So sensitive these doctor types.

Better Picture

2007-02-19T08:30:00.000-06:00

I landed in some hot water after posting that last picture of Melissa, so here’s a better one taken a few days ago by our good friend Dore…

Momma-to-be

2007-02-19T07:50:00.000-06:00

Here's momma-to-be just before the epidural. Such a trooper! Cool pillow eh? ;-)

Timing

2007-02-19T07:44:00.000-06:00

Perfect timing “P.” Why did you pick that special hour, right before mom and dad retire for the evening to make yourself heard?

I mean really… MIDNIGHT?! Just as dad was walking up the stairs to grab some shuteye...mom barely asleep for an hour?

It’s 7:45 am and we’ve been at the hospital since 2. According to the nurses, things are progressing… visually reinforced every 5 minutes by the wince of displeasure on Melissa’s face.

She’s a rock star though… no meds…no verbal abuse. Just sugar-free jolly ranchers, ice chips and cinnamon-flavored lip gloss applications every 45 minutes.

ETA... Sometime Monday, Feb. 19th?

2007-02-19T01:12:00.000-06:00

It's 1:10AM Monday morning and it appears Melissa's labor has begun. contractions 15 minutes apart, about 45 seconds in duration, the last one earning a wince of pain. Water has broke? appears to be a trickle and she insists she hasn't peed herself! Looks like this will be our first (of many) sleepless nights.

Will try to continue posting when possible...

I hope the hospital vending machine sells redbull.

T-Plus 7...8...9...10

2007-02-13T21:42:00.000-06:00

Yo P! Why you playin' us like that?

Please come soon baby girl. Your mom's nesting instincts have accelerated into overdrive and she's run out of things to primp...

She's grasping at straws. Just today, she reorganized our medicine drawer... i'm worried my desk is next. How can I possibly get any work done if all my paperwork is methodically categorized??

What's it going to take to convince you to come out? Primrose capsules? Castor Oil? Eggplant parmigiana?

Everyone Has A Theory

2007-02-03T12:05:00.000-06:00

...about when the baby will be born...or what the "P" stand for (no its not "Penelope!"). But so far, y'all have been wrong ('cept Summer L...good guess!).

Despite everyone's assurance that "Baby P" will be here by the weekend, as of Saturday morning, we are still on red alert, though I think I'll lower it to code "yellow" as soon as I get approval from Homeland Security.

So "P," are you going to ruin my superbowl plans...?

T-Minus 10..9..8..7..

2007-01-30T22:08:00.000-06:00

It appears that "Baby P" might make her grand entry a bit sooner than expected...like imminently. The official due date is February 20th - which we were hoping would be an early estimate. But as per the most recent OB/GYN visit on Monday (2cm dilated, 70% effaced), our Superbowl and Valentines Day plans may have to be adjusted just a bit.

And Melissa thought she would be teaching till February 16th! HA!

So now we are on "red alert." Which means I have to:

install the car seat
test the car seat
unpack and setup strollers
pack hospital bags
purchase video camera and learn proper operation
research and sign up for "cord blood banking"
coordinate dog care while we are gone
cram about a weeks worth of work into the next two days
control anxiety and stress so I can be the "level-headed one"
Sleep?

Before Monday's doctor visit, i assumed that 3 weeks would be ample time for me to satisfy all our pre-baby responsibilities but now it appears item 10 on the list is no longer an option.

So stay tuned for more info...

My intention is to blog as much as I can during the pre/intra/and post labor experience - I'll even post some pictures and maybe some video of "P" as well so this should be the first and best place to come to stay up to date.

Paparazzi

2007-01-26T22:20:00.000-06:00

Thanks to Summer L. for tipping us off to the paparazzi hiding in our bushes. No respect for ones privacy... its sickening really.

Inequity

2007-01-24T11:33:00.000-06:00

I’m well aware of the inequity of the situation.

Melissa is hard at work, 24 hours a day, creating new life

…constantly adjusting her schedule and social calendar to ensure the safety and health of baby Abdine.

…stoically denying her sushi, medium-rare Filet Mignon and Margarita cravings because someone, somewhere wrote in some publication that those were bad things for pregnant women to consume.

And me? It’s my job to remind her of her breathing patterns during labor!

Yikes, I better find more stuff to do.

Like…blog some new "4D" Ultrasound pics that have been sitting idol in my camera since mid-December?... (man, i'm such the slacker!)

Enough Already, I Get It!

2006-12-22T12:17:00.000-06:00

One of the recurring themes of the past 8 months of Melissa’s pregnancy is all of the dire warnings of fatherhood from friends and family.

“Getting a good night’s sleep Alan?
Well enjoy it now because you won’t get any sleep after the baby is born!”

“Like to go out to the movies Alan?
Well, enjoy them now because the only popcorn you’ll soon be eating is Pop Secret in front of your own television while watching Bob The Builder.”

“Like to go out for fancy dinners Alan?
Well, enjoy those fillets now because the only steak you’ll soon be eating is the Salisbury variety.

Perhaps they tell me these things as a friendly gesture (or sardonic jab?), to prepare me for the inevitable life changes that are fast approaching.

But frankly, it sounds like my first two years as a father will be roughly equivalent to Martha Stewart’s stay in Federal Prison.

Certainly there’s no avoiding the inevitable changes that will overtake our lives on or around February 20th, 2007, but can I not enjoy my last couple of months in a state of ignorant bliss?

Baby Mozart

2006-12-22T11:51:00.000-06:00

Should I be concerned that my unborn baby daughter likes to Rock out to Michael Jackson?

Melissa shared this new insight into our child’s music preference while driving to the mall a few weeks ago. It seems that the iconic MJ tune, "Billy Jean" was playing on the local “Old School” pop station when suddenly, Baby Abdine started moon walking all over Melissa’s bladder.

Am I becoming a square because I’m worried that my daughter is listening to songs about a dead beat dad’s inability to take responsibility for his children? Surely Brittany Spears can feel my pain.

But all things considered, I guess it could be worse, Baby A could have chosen Kelis’ "Milkshake" or the soon-to-be classic Black Eyed Peas diddy "My Humps" as her theme song, especially since those songs seem to fit momma-Melissa’s plight a bit better.

Personally, I would think a song like Nelly's "Hot In Herre" would be a more representative fit, but what do I know about music... I still think Weird Al Yankovich is funny.

My Dog The...

2006-10-19T00:43:00.000-05:00

bum
clock watcher
couch potato
deadbeat
idler
laggard
layabout
lazybones
loafer
lotus eater
lounger
malingerer
moocher
shirker
slacker
sloth
sponge

This is what some pugs do in their spare time:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcKOQrz19Yg

And this is what my dog does:

Damn you internet!

2006-10-19T00:22:00.000-05:00

I should be working... but instead i punish my little digital friend...mercilessly propelling him into 1, 2, 3.... 4 more ice walls? Who are you running from little digital friend? The ghosts of your childhood? The Korean mafia? Or do you just want to kick some ice wall ass?

Yessssss!

Helpful numbers to keep handy

2006-10-11T00:52:00.000-05:00

These "physician" ads were sent to me by my mother who is currently working with the Peace Corps in South Africa.

Honestly, I'm kind of embarrassed even posting these. It's just another example of our medical community's inferiority compared to its foreign counterparts.

I guess its time to start planning my S. Africa trip...

This Just In...

2006-10-04T23:10:00.000-05:00

"Yoga Baby" is no longer an it but a HER!

Bets have been lost (i owe Miss a prenatal massage at the spa of her choosing)...
Faux psychics have been exposed (sorry dad, sis & bro)...
And soon-to-be mommy and daddy have big smiles on their faces!

Here's a close-up of her profile... taking a nap?

Yoga Baby

2006-09-27T00:50:00.000-05:00

My unborn child is doing yoga poses in the womb. But should I be surprised? Melissa has already burned through at least 5 prenatal yoga DVDs. Thank God for Netflix.

(umm, oh and by the way, for those of you who have not been previously clued in to the news, there will soon be a mini-(half)me running around)

Melissa is 19 weeks pregnant and while we theoretically should be able to determine the sex, for whatever reason, our OB/GYN does not schedule the “anatomical” ultrasound until the 21st week.

This, of course, is unacceptable to us.

My self-diagnosed, adult-onset ADHD coupled with Melissa’s genetic inability to wait for a surprise (she secretly read my travel diary while I was asleep on a train enroute to the Cinque Terra region of Italy for the sole purpose of discovering whether or not I was going to propose to her. For the record, I was, and yes, she found out) made us incapable of waiting until the scheduled visit.

Furthermore, we were going to Santa Barbara for a family wedding which gave us all the rationalization we needed to spend the extra $$ for a redundant sex determination ultra. Certainly there wouldn’t be better uses for the money once the baby was born…?

We made an appointment at one of the ubiquitous “4D ultrasound” specialty shops that seem to be popping up everywhere. I’m not sure I understand the technology completely, but according to their marketing literature, the “4D ultrasound” is 2 times better than the regular 2D fan shaped ultras that you normally see! (or so you’d think)

The machine apparently generates a three dimensional shape from a regular ultrasound image to create a creepy computerized approximation of what the baby might actually look like. I’m not sure what the 4th “D” refers to, but I imagine it’s an estimation of the # of sleepless nights per week you’ll have stressing out about the radical shift your life will take now that you’ve been forced to deal with the very real impending reality of fatherhood.

Unfortunately for us (or maybe a blessing??) the Sonographer was unwilling to show us the ultrasound in all its 4D glory due to the baby being only 19 weeks developed.

According to her, 4D ultras before 21 weeks can sometimes be disturbing due to the tendency for the baby to appear more like an emaciated, heroin junkie alien versus anything remotely humanoid.

3 more weeks doesn’t sound unreasonable now that I think of it.

It didn’t really matter anyway, because our main purpose for going was to find out the gender. The standard 2D view should work just fine.

…but that wasn’t going to work out in our favor either.

Sonographer: “Well I have some bad news.”
Abdines: “Oh no, we knew it… the baby has Alan’s ears.”
Sonographer: “Not quite…although the ears do look somewhat monkey-like. Rather, the problem we have is the baby has its legs crossed and is sitting on its rump. Unless it moves, it’s going to be difficult if not impossible to determine the sex today.”

Sure enough, baby Abdine was sitting in a relaxed, meditative Lotus position; perfectly positioned to completely cover any protruding vestiges…or lack thereof. And of course, every body part was moving; head, back, arms, fingers, mouth… every body part EXCEPT for the legs.

No luck today. The baby must still be referred to in gender neutral terms.

But wait! What’s that?? Baby Abdine just thrust (his?) hand down in between (his?) legs! Is (he?) scratching (his?) crotch??

My money is now on the table. 5-2 odds it’s a boy.

A Smite-Worthy Good Time

2006-08-22T23:25:00.000-05:00

Ok kids, pop quiz time:

What’s funnier?

A) An obscure reference to the last scene of the movie “The 40 Year Old Virgin” to begin your good friend’s wedding ceremony.

B) The Universal Life Church and their online application for ministry.

Answer: Either A or B or both or none of the above since all answers on the ULC grading curve lead to a perfect score.

Flashback to early winter 2006: I’m enjoying a sociable evening with my newly engaged friends Kevin and Barb, picking at a Ceasar Salad at the Yardhouse at the Irvine ~~Rectum~~ Spectrum when they drop the bomb:

“Hey Alan, we were wondering if you’d do us a favor for the wedding.”

“Sure,” I said

“Ok, well it’s going to take a little work on your end.”

“Umm, ok. And what is it you want me to do?”

“Well we were wondering if you’d be interested in marrying us.”

My first reaction was of utter bewilderment. I wasn’t even sure I was holy enough to BE married let alone marry someone else. Would God disapprove of me playing the poser minister? Isn’t this type of behavior smite-worth? Hmm, a smiting would certainly not figure in well for my summer plans…

But after a conversation with a real reverend, Melissa and a fair amount of prayer, my theology was straightened out just enough for me to seriously consider the offer.

The problem still remained though; on what authority could I legally marry them in the state of California?

Oh! Wait a minute… Problem solved! The Universal Life Church!

The Universal Life Church is a nonsense organization that claims to be a church but has no underlying core set of beliefs. They are one of those “one size fits all” churches that preach that all beliefs are legitimate… as long as you really believe your made-up beliefs.

The main reason this “church” exists is because it’s the path of least resistance for one to become legally authorized to perform a marriage ceremony in (most of) the US.

At first, I didn’t know much about the ULC or their online ordination process. Would I need a credit card? Would I have to renounce my current faith or subscribe to some new religious code? Would I still be able to benefit from the world of psychiatry?

After 2 minutes of research this is what I found:

The answers to the questions above were no, no, no and yes (and probably end up needing it more than ever).
What you DO need is an email address….and THAT’S IT.
A printer would help too… so you can print out your official-looking certificate of ministry.

Not to sound glib, but…

After two additional minutes of research, I realized just what a monumental pile of ridiculousness the ULC actually is. Well maybe not as ridiculous as Scientology, but still, staring at a broken piece of pencil lead would have been a better way to spend the 30 seconds it took me to sign up for this meaningless “religious” designation.

Let me get this straight… California requires one to be a judge, boat captain or minister to conduct a wedding ceremony within its borders, yet its “minister” designation is so hollow that it allows for a minister of church who’s only belief (and corresponding motto) is “To Do That Which Is Right” to legally marry a couple within its borders?

To Do That Which Is Right?! What does that even mean? Apparantly not a whole lot since pretty much anything you dream up can be considered “right” as long as you properly rationalize it’s rightness… at least for your own benefit. (paging Ayn Rand)

Listen up everyone, after sticking his head in a hat he fashioned out of old Happy Meal bags, THE reverend Alan Abdine received a new revelation: In order “To Do That Which Is Right,” on October 3^rd, 2008, at 3:43AM (CST) you must pray to his dog Moby who, while wearing a pink tutu, will temporarily assumes the reincarnated state of the 45^th Buddha for approximately 17 and 5/8 minutes.

With the ULC church absurdity behind me, it was time to focus on something actually meaningful… namely, my friends’ wedding:

{Alan faces Kevin and Barb and begins the ceremony}

"Are you ready?

Ok, before we get started, I want you to take a quick look around at everyone gathered here today.”

{Alan points to the guests}

“Kevin & Barb, there are a lot of friends and family here that really care about you.”

{Alan addresses the guests}

“But y’know what everyone? Sometimes it’s not enough to JUST show up… so I thought we could all get out of our chairs and express our true feelings for Kevin and barb through interpretive dance."

Oh, I almost forgot the plug…

Since I submitted my application for the ULC ministry this year, I get the new-for-2006 feature of the power to forgive sins! So if you’re throwing a bachelor party or just want a guilt-free night on the town, email me now for my fall 2006 rental rates!

Pug Spotlight: Moby

2006-05-01T21:46:00.000-05:00

As if my dog needed any more publicity... he's currently gracing the "Pug Spotlight" page at austinpugs.com

"Whattup Dawgs! I'm Moby, AKA "The Mobinator" AKA "Pooey Jr."

People often ask me: "Where ever did you get that crazy name? Are your parents obsessed with 19th century American Literature or something?" That always makes me chuckle. Literature? MY Parents?! Ha! Heaven's no! Unless you call People Magazine or drudgereport.com literature! In fact, I'm not even sure my dad can read! Actually, my folks named me after that smooth-headed, cultural and musical icon; Moby (who IS in fact actually related to Herman Melville!) Apparently, they were really into the album "Play" when I came home from the puppy farm, so with all the creative effort they could muster…Well, I guess it could be worse. At least my name isn't Radiohead.
So Here I am in Austin. Cool place to be in my opinion, as long as it's not summer. I can't stand the summers here. You can't blame me though, I was born and raised in Southern California. I can still remember chasing the sea gulls and splashing in the cool Pacific Ocean. When my folks told me we were moving to Austin, I thought they were crazy! But once I got here, it all made sense. Sure, the weather pretty much sucks in the summer, but oh man, the music here rocks! And I really can't complain about all my new buddies in the pug club. (Big shout out to Jasmine, Chom Chom, Buda, Milo, Sofi and Murphi! WHAT WHAT!)

So I've been ripping on my parents, but I should really cut them some slack. Despite their inherent dorkiness, they try their best. Plus, they let me chill all day on the couch (thus my nickname "lazy") and if that wasn't cool enough, they put a down comforter in my crate! Woo Hoo! Now if I can only get them to switch out my crappy dry food for something halfway tasty… (note to self: try sad, begging puppy routine)
I'm really a cool guy once you get to know me. Yea, I'm a bit spastic when I first meet you, and I definitely suffer from a moderate case of Pug ADD, but if you can get my attention, you will earn a friend for life.

Next time at the Pug Meetup, come and say hi. I'll be over by the golden retrievers racing after them into the creek.

submitted for Moby by Alan"

Pride And GU Packs

2006-04-25T02:05:00.000-05:00

2 years ago I had the brilliant idea of running the Capitol 10K. It seemed like a reasonable endeavor considering my long and glorious history as a high school Junior Varsity swimmer (don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, the 100yd breast stroke is JUST LIKE running 6.2 miles). And with my recent victory over the aliens living inside my xbox, I desperately needed to direct my perpetually competitive energies elsewhere.

Normally when presented with the option of playing sports outdoors or on a television screen, I’d select the latter, but this time my lesser judgment got the best of me and I signed up for a 3 month training course to prepare for the race. …which it turns out happened to be a great idea because I ended up running the race in a respectable 52 minutes with only a post-race heart murmur or two to show for it.

Fast forward 23.5 months.

Alan: “Hey Tim, what are you doing today?”
Tim: “Probably just going for a run.”
Alan: “A run?”
Tim: “Yea, I’m going to run the Cap10K in two weeks”
Alan’s (Inner monologue): The Cap10K! I did that once…AND I did it in the respectable time of 52 minutes! If I ran it, I could certainly beat him and then…(song cues up) “We are the champions”
Tim: “We are the champions?”
Alan: “Oh you heard that?... Forget it. How about I run the race with you… y’know as a show of support!”
Tim: “Golly what a grand idea” (he didn’t really say that… I think it was just “cool”)

So armed with my Nike Air 360s and topped off with a full tank of pride, I began my 2 week crash course training regimen:

Day 1: run for 20 minutes
Day 2: look for socks with better “wicking” technology
Day 3: Think about race
Day 4: Think about race some more
Day 5,6,7: Weekend! Take a well-deserved break.
Day 8: Huh? 11 am already?..better get up now…(5 hours later) run for 20 minutes
Day 9: Create “Alan’s Ultimate Race Mix” of high energy race music. Transfer to iPod.
Day 10: Run for 20 minutes (in order to test out the first 5 songs of Alan’s Ultimate Race Mix)
Day 11: Reorganize songs on iPod to enhance motivational properties of Alan’s Ultimate Race Mix.
Day 12: Contract cold virus
Day 13: Sickness worsens
Race Day (at 3am): Realize that I shouldn’t get out of bed because I’m sick as a dog AND can’t sleep due to my unfortunate decision to take a 24 hour Claritin D (now with extra pseudoephedrine) 5 hours before.

But pride… ah yes pride. It can do quite a number on you.

So I gulped 3 GU packs, chugged a vitamin water (cause its packed with. Y’know. Vitamins) and chomped an extra Claritin for good measure before **bang** the race begins.

Pain, thy name is Cap10k. I’m not going to go into too much detail here, let’s just say it was ugly. Apparently there is a very good reason why our intelligent designer designed us to sleep once in awhile and/or heal before intense physical activity. No less than three imaginary heart attacks, 2 desperate attempts to refrain from vomiting and 62 minutes later, I crossed the finish line.

Humbly I congratulated Tim on a great race. For the record, I’m pretty sure his victory was due to him taking advantage of one of my imaginary cardiac episodes about 4.5 miles into the race… …or maybe Alan’s Ultimate Race Mix still needed some fine tuning.
…or 4 GU packs instead of 3?
...or Red Bull instead of Vitamin Water?
…or maybe because I had to pee starting .5 miles into the race which was really distracting.

But it was certainly, absolutely, positively NOT because Tim was better prepared and flat out whooped me.

Helmet Head

2006-03-30T23:05:00.000-06:00

It's official; I'm old and lame (but well protected with toasty ears!).

It seems like just yesterday....those good ole days when life and limb were of no particular consequence. When hurtling down an ice-covered, tree speckled mountain at 40mph seemed like a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. And riding rusty, vomit-inducing carnival rides with ill-fitting "safety" latches was considered drunk sport.

But I have crossed the chasm of reckless, indestructible youth and am now resting awkwardly (and with slight lower back pain I might add) in the uncomfortable reality of early 30ish health and safety consciousness.

Yea, you guessed it. I bought a snowboarding helmet.

Now I wouldn't be caught dead Mtn. biking without a helmet. Nor would I touch a dirt bike or quad without 4 inches of foam surrounding my head. But for some reason, snow sports didn't seem to apply to these laws of logic.

Snow is soft right? Well maybe not California snow... but surely it’s softer than say... rocks or asphalt? And trees? Well, you just AVOID those. That was my mantra for 21 years of avid snow sportin'... until this year.

This year I turned 31, and although 30 is supposed to be the new 20, my back doesn't feel a day younger than 43 1/2 (probably something to do with missing "lift with the legs" day at back school). Despite the back thingy though, I probably would have fooled myself into "winging it" one more year if it wasn't for an ill-conceived trip to the local Carnival.

I used to think carnivals were amusing; a good time after "having a laugh," a fun destination to take a date or an opportune place to meet high school girls (WHEN I WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL TOO OF COURSE!). So when Jabari, my little brother I'm matched up with in the Big Brothers of Austin program, suggested we go to the rodeo and carnival a few weeks back, I was totally game.

Then the horror show began:

Mistake #1: I bought unlimited ride wristbands for us
Mistake #2: I ate a greasy sausage sandwich with extra onions and mustard as soon as we entered the carnival.
Mistake #3: I bragged to Jabari that I could “outride him any day of the week” and that he could “hang out in the kiddy playland if couldn’t handle the big boy stuff with me”. Umm yea. This was a stupid thing to say to a fearless 13 year old with an iron stomach and something to prove.

Needless to say, I ended the evening with a throbbing headache, weird crackling noises in my inner ears, double-vision and a nauseous gurgling stomach slowly eating away my GE junction with heartburn.

I even faintly remember a particularly bratty little preteen girl exclaim: “Oh my god, that old guy is about to barf all over the place” while I was upside down on some “Vomitron 2000” ride.

This was my wakeup call that I was neither
a)indestructible nor
b)immune to pain as I previously thought

So before my Mammoth trip last weekend, I walked into Sport Chalet, head lowered in shame and ridicule, and purchased a large, gray snowboarding helmet that when worn, made my head look like a primer-coated watermelon (with air vents) capable of receiving deep space radio transmissions.

I was beat.

But funny how these things work out in ones favor. Not only did the soft, velvety ear flaps keep my ears toasty warm in the blizzard conditions on the mountain, but I crashed (and whacked my head good n’ hard) not once but TWICE!

What forsight I thought through the fuzzy, pre-concussion haze of the second spectacular collision of my head to the icy landing of the jump I just attempted.

I think its time for some hot cocoa.

Abdine Video Archive (Part 2)

2006-03-08T23:42:00.000-06:00

Here's a juicy morsel of kooky awkwardness that I produced for Melissa's first grade class.

After watching a small hole in Moby's food bin slowly grow in diameter over the course of a few months, I became suspicious that a bird was pecking out a new home. One afternoon however, I caught the little culprit in action and much to my surprise, the bird happened to be furry with four paws and a bushy tail. The story of the "flying squirrel," as described by Melissa to her class, quickly became the buzz of the Windermere Primary School playground, so as a little end-of-the-school-year surprise, I cooked up this little documentary complete with squirrel voice narration.

If you choose to view this, please keep in mind that this was custom-designed for the first grade intellect (which I happen to be keenly aware of), so first downing a bottle of wine (or two) is highly recommended.

Abdine Video Archive (Part 1)

2006-03-04T01:17:00.000-06:00

In the spirit (and giddy anticipation) of Oscar night, I felt inspired to share a small tidbit of my personal video archive with the world in hopes that it will bring hope and inspiration to the yearning masses....or possibly zing a few of my friends for no apparent reason.

Don't be fooled by the expert editing and compelling content...this was only my first foray into the exciting world of home video production!

And yes... you are correct. We ARE all horrible shots.

(Warning for the lady viewers: This will be extremely boring for you and will only reinforce your relatively accurate stereotype that guys act like 14 year old boys when out in the desert with gas/gunpowder driven toys and no supervision)

Finding Salvation, 1 Cheesesteak At A Time

2006-02-07T00:24:00.000-06:00

The rumor is true. I’m supposed to be on a diet. Not a pansy cabbage-soup-eating diet, but a diet nonetheless.

And really… its not like I really NEED to be on a diet. If you want my honest opinion, dieting really is just an extension of pride.

And pride is evil.

So if A=B and B=C, then A must equal C…

Finally! Proof that dieting is evil!

To truly be a follower of God, one must turn from evil…so one way for ME to turn from evil would be to break my diet.

Which brings me to my short business trip to Philadelphia.

Because I did a pretty decent job so far today of following my diet, as you might expect, I was feeling especially evil.

I needed to be rescued… and quick. So it was certainly not lost on me that I just happened to be in the City Of Brotherly Love on this most evil of days.

And how, might you ask, would Philadelphia be able to deliver me of my burden?

Well, cheesesteaks of course.

You see, I reason that if I eat enough cheesesteak sandwiches while I’m here, then the act of breaking my (evil) diet will most surely cleanse me of my sins… well at least the sins brought on by my stupid diet.

So with only 36 hours to work with, I had to move quickly.

(For those of you wondering how I could possibly spend my short trip here seeking out fat-laden sandwiches instead of visiting the liberty bell and Independence Hall… well… I really have no good excuse other than I expect that it’s only a matter of time before there’ll be a casino re-creation of Philadelphia in Vegas which will probably be way more kick-ass AND have great rooms and 4 star service. “Libertyland” would be a good name… maybe with a giant 20 story neon liberty bell that shoots fireworks and plays the national anthem every 15 minutes right off the strip. They could tear down the Aladdin hotel (citing a national security risk) which would offer a great center-strip location right across from the New York New York Statue of liberty and adjacent to the Paris Hotel! Ha! Take that you socialist frogs!)

Cheesesteak #1 – Leo’s

I started here because a) it was only 3.2 miles from my hotel and b) they’ve won the “best cheesesteak” award for Delaware county the last 5 years in a row. I ordered a small but only ate half due to its lack of flavor and overall dry quality. I ordered it with Provolone, which might have been the problem… Overall, a poor start.

Cheesesteak #2 – Jim’s

My online research directed me to Jim’s as one of the top cheesesteak havens in town. Here you’re supposed to order the cheesesteak as the locals do by calling out: “Heavy on the whiz!” Yes. They use (and adore) cheese whiz here... sort of like the Hawaiians and their fascination with spam. It makes no sense… but when in Rome… Actually the whiz was great and the sandwich was quite good. Lots of grease though… but I guess that’s the mark of a truly well prepared sandwich.

Cheesesteak #3 – Ishkabibbles

Normally, I would have walked right by a place like Ishkabibbles, completely oblivious to the gastronomic delights inside but I had the dumb luck of meeting a native Pennsylvanian at a friend’s superbowl party the night before who highly recommended it. To top off my cheesesteak trilogy, I ordered a new variation: steak, white American, onions and peppers (yes I took my Zantac earlier this afternoon). And the verdict? Perfection! Each bite seemed to wash my conscience anew. I felt like a new man, delivered from the yoke of my culinary digressions.

I can now attest to the restorative powers of the most holy of dishes; the Philadelphia cheesesteak (well 3 cheeseteaks in 2 hours to be exact). Yes, I feel like a new man. Albeit a man with a newly clogged left ventricle (is it possible to actually FEEL cholesterol depositing itself to your arteries?).

Now…If only I knew what the Bible says about gluttony…

Rose Bowl 2006

2006-01-15T22:55:00.000-06:00

I have to admit. I didn't deserve to be at the Rose Bowl. I WANTED to be at the Rose Bowl. Boy did I WANT to. But deserve? Hmm...

How can anyone deserve to be handed two beautiful, lovely, shiny rose bowl tickets? I haven't been THAT good this year. Certainly there are more deserving people than I?

But here they are... "People paid $3500 for tickets just like these." I think to myself.

Hands begins to tremble.

"Very rich donors have invested big dollars... for 35 years.... waiting for this opportunity... and couldn't get tickets."

Sweat begins to bead on forehead.

Alan.... remind yourself to thank Carol Baker for brokering this transaction...she has worked a miracle for you.

And so my day begins:

8:40 AM: I wake up. Vision of sugar plums and crystal national championship trophies dance in my head. My head is groggy and my blood sugar is all jacked up from the countless grams of poor quality carbs ingested over the last 3 weeks. I can feel my pancreas. It is cursing me.

9:02 AM: First sip of coffee. Take that pancreas…you little bastard. I eat some whole grain goody two shoes cereal that my mom has in the cupboard.... Blood sugar levels stabilize… why am I so growly this morning. It’s national championship day yo!

10:29 AM: On the road to the IE (Inland Empire for all you out-of-the-loop Texas folk) Liver now starts hurting. I wonder. “Is this because I’m turning 31 and my body is well on its way to an early death? Or did I just drink too much in Vegas on New Years?”

10:47 AM: I pick up a bottle of Champagne at Trader Joes in Redlands. Presumptuous? Maybe… but if I can get Rose Bowl tickets then ANYTHING can happen.

12:01 PM: Limo is now officially late. I’m agitated. Blood Pressure Rises.

12:03 PM: Limo arrives. Heart attack avoided. Now in good spirits again. Emery, my brother-in-law and LA sporting event compadre, and I hop in the white stretch Lincoln and depart from his house on our Grand Journey to the Rose Bowl.

12:33 PM: We take a quick detour off the hwy to one of the few L&L Hawaiian BBQ’s on the mainland. Hot Dogs and Potato Chips are for amateurs. There’s nothing like tailgating with Chicken Musubi and Raw Ahi Poke!

1:38 PM: We pick up Dax and Stacey at their burnt orange bungalow in Burbank. Yes, they’re hardcore horns fans. Surprise! They contribute home made taquitos and appetizer meatballs to the mix. The party has officially started.

2:44 PM: We are stuck in the ass that is Rose Bowl game day traffic. We are becoming agitated and some of us have to pee. I watch ants scurry along the ground faster than the car is moving. Desperate scalpers and fans meander through the cars looking for tickets.

3:31 PM: I experience the agony and the ecstasy of a Rose Bowl portable toilet. Note to self… find a bush next time.

3:55 PM: We meet up with some friends who hired a bus to shuttle them, their 25 companions and a whole slew of tailgating accoutrements to the game. We enjoy a “pre-game nerve-calming beer” with them.

4:16 PM: We fight through the crowds massed around the gates. Wow! I notice the sea of orangebloods in attendance.

6:15 PM: Game is underway… It’s surreal… very exciting/nerve-racking. A small cluster of us honrs fans gets into a shouting match with some old fart USC Alumni who are whining that we won’t sit down in front of them. Seems they forgot they were at a football game…errr, a NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP football game. Sad really… the effects of senility…

7:10 PM: Halftime. Horns are leading… good game though. Both teams came to play. Score isn’t as high as I was guessing… expected another touchdown or two in the first half, but no matter. Our team showed up. Goody. It’s marching band time… Now THAT’S entertainment!

8:54 PM: 6:42 in the fourth quarter and USC is up 38-26. Ugh. My head starts hurting. So much scoring on both sides… but USC has done it a few more times. Doesn’t look good.

9:25 PM: UT Wins!!!! Oh my gawd! The greatest game I’ve ever seen… Vince Young is amazing! UT 41. Heisman winners 38!

10:10: Finally get out of the Stadium… Post game festivities begin…and so does this entry. “The eyes of texas are upon you…”

Not moving to So Cal (just yet)

2006-01-03T12:55:00.000-06:00

So the big decision of December 2005 is that we're not ready (just yet) to move back to So Cal. Of course, everyone thinks we're crazy. Maybe "crazy" is the wrong word. Mad! is a better adjective (in the British sense of course).

So for historical record, let me lay out the details of the legendary mistake we are about to make so that everyone has ample opportunity to help us make the correct decision before it’s too late.

1. There has been an extraordinarily generous offer made to us involving a gorgeous house at an unbelievable price.

2. There are multiple, potentially (very) lucrative, career upgrade opportunities that have been laid out in front of us… but require us to move to So Cal.

3. All of our family units have made it abundantly clear how much they would like us to be within driving distance to them.

4. We happen to agree with said family units that it would be quite cool to live within driving distance to them.

5. Melissa and I have decided that the next great adventure in our lives requires a miniaturized version of us (hopefully with Melissa’s dominant genes). This of course brings up the conventional wisdom that it is gobs easier to manage a child (i.e. dump the kid off at grandma’s house) while living in close proximity to the fam than it is to try and do it solo in some God forsaken cowtown like Austin, TX.

6. Oh, and don’t let me forget that California is chock full of fun things to do like Snowboarding, surfing, various motor sports that require dirt roads and knobby tires, Star Gazing (the Brad Pitt kind… there’s obviously too much smog in the air to see the swirling mass of hot gas variety), Disneyland and earthquakes.

7. And friends! We really really like our friends (Big ups to all our So Cal friends who are reading this).

A rational person would look at this list and say “golly Alan and Melissa” what the heck are you thinking staying in George Dubya Bushland USA? Do you really want to be known as a Red Stater? Even worse… A REPUBLICAN? (foreboding music fires up in the background).

But alas, we never claimed to be rational. I mean we’re evangelical Christians for Buddha’s sake! How could anyone ever confuse us for rational human beings. Now sarcasm? That’s another situation altogether. Sarcasm is OK. I’m fairly certain there are plenty of references to the holiness of sarcasm in the bible… at least the translation that I read…

Y’know… it really comes down to one thing.

There happens to be a place where you can get really good margaritas down on South Congress Street.

Sorry family, friends, career and house.

Drunkenness wins.

The First Ever Abdine Family Christmas Letter!

2005-12-19T22:04:00.000-06:00

(editor's note: I admit. This is a cop-out post. It's basically a regurgitation of the christmas letter we sent out this year... i figured I'd try to get a bit more mileage out of it by posting it here since I obviously have been neglecting my blogging duties as of late. enjoy! ;)

I give up. I can’t argue with my lovely, intelligent and ultra-persuasive wife any longer. Even my usual tactic of “ignore and retreat” doesn’t seem to be working. You see, she’s been hounding me for 3 weeks now to write this Christmas letter describing all the fantastic adventures we’ve had this year. Furthermore, she demands that it be “clever.”

I have no idea where she got the idea that I was clever. Wordy? Sure. Incoherent? Possibly. But Clever? Honey, 43 emails a day does not a clever writer make. But alas, I’m here… forced to compress a year’s worth of life experiences into a single page of “clever” prose…

So where do I start? I could begin by telling you about my 2 week trip to China with my mom and grandfather while shamelessly promoting my travel blog (which, by the way, is a rollicking good read, available for your enjoyment now at http://alanabdine.blogspot.com). Or maybe I can tell y’all about our trip to The Big Island of Hawaii and our lava-hunting adventures that culminated in us becoming slightly lost, dehydrated and dizzy from inhaling too much volcano dust.
Another direction I considered was the “reality TV” approach where I could recite a list of normal, everyday life events such as how our teaching and sales jobs are going or about the challenges we’ve endured in our quest to become parents. But as I wrote and crumpled the numerous versions of this letter, I realized that the best way for us to tell you our story would be over a couple of margaritas at our favorite Tex-Mex dive.

So for lack of a more “clever” intro I’ll take a cue from Letterman and present you with the:

Top Ten Reasons To Get Your Rear To Austin (Right Quick!)

10. DUCK TOUR! (nuff said)

9. You can play a game of “you know what” with Moby. (hint: flashlight)

8. There might be a band or two…or 50 that’s playing tonight.

7. South Congress is getting cooler by the day…come quick before it becomes to hip for even you!

6. Oh and don’t forget about downtown. It’s not just for drunk 20 year olds anymore…

5. Alamo Draft House: The best movie theater in the country? Town Lake Loop: The best urban hike and bike trail on earth? 1.2 million bats darkening the skies during their nightly exodus from under the Congress Bridge: The weirdest city tourist attraction in the Western Hemisphere? YOU BE THE JUDGE!

4. You will finally be able to fulfill your lifelong fantasy to use “fix’n to go,” “y’all”, “dang”, “whoowee”, “that there” and “ever did see” in normal, everyday conversation and have someone completely understand what you are talking about. Example: WHOOOOWEEE! That there’s the biggest dang Wal-Mart I ever did see. I’m fix’n to go. Y’all two wanna come?

3. Taste that? That’s pure liquid margarita joy found at Guero’s Taco Bar.

2. An extra five pounds will fill you out nicely…The Salt Lick BBQ can help!

1. Oh my gaaaawd… There’s Matthew McConaughey! And he’s playing bongo drums naked!

Retrospective

2005-11-15T23:58:00.000-06:00

I wanted to wait a bit after I returned home before I wrote my final thoughts on the trip. I wondered how some time away from China might color my memories, or bring me to some previously unexpected conclusions.

Generally speaking, my experiences have stuck pretty similarly in memory as they played out in real life.

One new realization I’ve had is the important role my travel companions played throughout the trip.

Roaming with mom and grandfather, both of whom have traveled around the globe many times previously, was a once in a lifetime opportunity that I don’t think I really was able to appreciate until well into the trip. Their combined travel experiences have placed them in practically every continent and sub-region in the world giving them a global perspective that helped put many of our experiences into context. It also helped that my mom, a recent graduate student, used her well-trod research skills to pepper our visits to each tourist location with fun facts and historical perspective – a welcome departure from the canned, government-approved presentation by our guides.

We also had the good fortune to have family in Shanghai. I can’t say enough about the incredible hospitality shown to us by Brad, Kenny and Lai, my aunts and uncles in Shanghai who toured us around their city, feeding us amazing food and skillfully directing us through the local markets like only a local can.

Finally, a big shout out is in order for the very cool Canadians, Australians and Irish we met during the trip.

We were lucky to have traveled with an especially entertaining group including:

• Leslie: a supremely funny Australian guy who was constantly cracking hysterical but sometimes inappropriate jokes. Leslie was too jolly for his own good. Like a rough hewn ex-military santa clause with rosy cheeks and a sharp tongue….if that makes any sense at all.

• Brian & Anne: A very cool young couple from Dublin who made great drinking companions (duh, their irish!). Thanks to Brian, I now know more about the complexities of “correct” Guinness beer drinking and International rules football/rugby than I ever thought possible.

• Sojii: A cool guy from Canada who was a great companion to navigate the Chinese nightlife with. Sojii could easily pass for a Chinese mafia hitman if he wasn’t securing the streets of Vancouver as a cop. Although he was probably the most subdued guy in the group, you’d definitely want him on your side if some shit went down in some Chinese back-alley.

• Imran: An Australian guy and recent college grad traveling with his parents. Imran was another member of our gang who went out terrorizing the locals. I don't think he was counting on carousing around each night when he prepared for the trip as he apparantly did not pack anything other than polyester basketball shorts and t-shirts to wear. So when you see those new sports-oriented fashions coming out of Shanghai next year, you'll know who started it.

Despite all the inherent shortcomings... the group tour travel format really works by bringing together like-minded world travelers from all over the world. It's a great way to see and experience new places...and interestingly enough...the perfect way to tutor the Chinese intelligence community on Western cultures and language!

Special Guest Post: Grandpa Fred

2005-10-26T10:19:00.000-05:00

Today's post is a special guest entry from my grandfather describing his adventures with my mom in Kunming following my departure from Shanghai...

I’ve been waiting a month for divine revelation to tell me how to add on to the end of Alan’s blog about our China trip, but alas, it has not come. The words have been buzzing around in my head all this time, so it is time to get them out.

The road (paved road) ends about 5km out of Kunming. From there it is only rough stones about the size of two bricks. These stones are uneven, so it’s very rough. Our van rattles and vibrations to the extent that we must shout to carry on a conversation. We are on way to Lake Nuguru which is about 200km from Kunming and will take us about six hours to get there.

Our driver doesn’t speak English but it is evident that he has driven this road many times. It is breakneck speed all the way and this is on mountain roads that ascend to ridges and then descend into valleys. Out driver explains with his hands that there are six more ridges to cross. Anything that moves up ahead must be passed, so we bear down on them and shoot past no matter what lies ahead. In addition there are numerous rock slides that have fallen on the road and in some places the road is washed away with only one lane remaining. You might say that the road itself is “a trip.” Our driver is in love with his horn, blowing it at everything that moves or might move along the way. He blows it on curves , also, which is a good thing.

Alan left us in Shanghai where Brad very graciously supplied transport to the airport for him. Later, after a five hour delay, we flew south on China Eastern, one of China’s excellent domestic airlines. We were met at the Kunming airport and taken to a prominent hotel which had an impressive lobby but nonfunctioning plumbing (we had to change rooms).

The next day it was a two hour flight to Lijang, an ancient city that is the home of the Naxi minority group. We had planned to make this part of the trip on our own, but thankfully, Dr. Peter Tang and Brad realized that would need help so they made arrangements for us. ijang reminded me of Waikiki. The Naxi culture was there somewhere but it was hard to find with all the souvenir shops, restaurants and bars catering to tourists from all over the world, but mainly from China itself. We found a place called Sakoura that served everything from congee to crepes for breakfast.

Out accommodations were in a guest house (“300 years old”) perched on the side of a hill with tiny passageways and doorways. The beds were the hardest yet but that was the least of our problems. There might have been a shower somewhere but it wasn’t in our room. Toilets were down the hall.

One evening we attended a concert of traditional Naxi music, a must in Lijang. This same music with ancient instruments was performed for the last emperor of China hundreds of years ago. Lots of clangs and bells played by wonderful old men who were very serious about there performance. Every afternoon the Naxi ladies in there traditional dress performed their dances in an open plaza……just like the Kodak hula show in Honolulu.

This morning it was into the van and off to Lake Nuguru. We finally go over the last ridge and drop down toward the extensive lake dotted with several islands. Instead of going to our “hotel” the driver took us down to the lake shore. We were ushered out and into a rough hewn canoe with about eight others and paddled off toward one of the islands that had a pagoda. Numerous other boats were going and coming and being paddled by minority ladies in their colorful dress as well as some men.

We climbed to the pagoda and found that it was a Tibetan Buddhist with prayer wheels around the outside. Prayer flags fluttered from lines strung among the trees and wild dahlias marked the landscape. Judy spoke to the monk on duty inside.

Then it was back into the boats and back to where we started.

275 MPH And No Seat Belts

2005-10-25T22:09:00.000-05:00

"Crap this is fast" is all I could think as we rocketed along the concrete track at 430 km/h (275 mph) on the Maglev Bullet train in Shanghai.

"Hmm, no seat belts."

Not like seat belts would do a whole lot in a crash anyway.

The Maglev Bullet train was an exciting but wholly unnatural experience. I think it may be the fastest commercial train in the world right now. A top speed of 275 mph thanks to a precisely tuned magnetic cushion and some brilliant German engineering.

The train follows a single route; a short 10 minute ride from the Shanghai business center to the international airport... and then back again. Not exactly a scenic tour, but then again, you can't see a whole lot when you're clipping along at 1/3 the speed of sound...on the ground.

It's a suprisingly smooth ride, except when you pass the oncoming train on the adjacent track...also speeding at 275mph. That's when you hear/feel the loud THUMP of the two air streams smashing into each other at combined speed faster than a Commercial jet at crusing speed.

New pictures of Maglev Train and Video Of Train Ride

Shanghai: World’s Largest Rolex and Louis Vuitton Outlet Store

2005-10-25T00:34:00.000-05:00

Wow, what a deal!

2 authentic* Louis Vuitton bags for $35 bucks!

2 genuine** Rolex watches for 15 bucks!

I must have good karma or something (thank you feudal serf me from 800 years ago!)

When we arrived at shanghai, the last city stop on our grand tour, we had no idea that we were entering the world’s greatest city-sized Outlet Mall.

No, at the time, we were more concerned about the Typhoon that was predicted to hit us the next day.

Silly me to think that I was escaping the natural disasters currently plaguing the US! It seems God dislikes communists just about as much as he detests red-staters and neo-cons…

The Typhoon, thankfully, was not the second coming of Katrina. It churned out just enough rain and wind to clear out the smog for one good day of site seeing and picture taking.

Shanghai, unlike the other cities visited, is a city mostly devoid of the historic tourist sites we were used to visiting. Instead, the real draw of Shanghai seemed to be the cosmopolitan identity it has acquired throughout its interesting history. While the traffic and overpopulation was similar to the other large cities we visited, the overall feel of the city was much more Western in nature (almost space-age in some respects!) with towering skyscrapers (one of which is the fifth tallest in the world) and older, classical western European influenced structures – a stark departure from the sterile utilitarian designs in Beijing and Xian.

After a day of driving to the tourist spots, which aren’t interesting enough to write about here, we felt like we were more than ready for the power shopping that would dominate the remainder of our stay.

Before I go any further, I think a little clarification is in order. When I speak of shopping, I’m not referring to the khaki-pants-buying-at-the-mega-mall variety that (strangely) seemed to attract most of the others in the group (don’t they have malls back at home?).

Nah, I’ve had enough of South Coast Plaza to last me for awhile.

What I’m referring to is “guy shopping.” Y'know.... the shady kind that involves, back-room negotiations for pirate dvd’s, fake swiss watches, grey market electronics and maybe a designer handbag or two for my wife thrown in for good measure.

Throughout the city, strategically placed near the established markets and malls, are groups of shopping “assistants” whose sole purpose is to bring interested buyers to the secretive shops that cater to the fake brand-name product bargain hunter. Usually these shops are accessible only through secret trap doors located behind display cases at legitimate “front” stores but sometimes they can be setup at an apartment or at the end of a series of stairways and inconspicuous doors that seem to lead to the other side of nowhere.

The shopping experience at these shops is not for the queasy or shy. Their initial prices are ridiculously inflated and are intended to make a mockery of amateur negotiators. After some trial and error and a few rip-offs, I figured out that you can really only expect to get the “right” price after about 15-20 minutes of dramatic hand waving, exasperated facial expressions and at least two fake walk aways (which always result in them running after you with a “sir, tell me your best price” plea from the shopkeeper.)

Quite frankly, this method really provided more entertainment value than anything. But I did score a couple of high quality “Louis Vuitton” handbags for Melissa for under 40 bucks!

One can really only tolerate this process for a couple of days. The constant squawks of “sir, you want rolex…your want louis vuitton…you want versace… and the occasional arm grab by the super-pushy shop owners gets old real fast. Once I acquired my booty, and the suitcase to transport it back to the states, I made like a stray dog walking by a Chinese dumpling factory and disappeared.

* Authenticity confirmed by enthusiastic declaration and many promises made by handbag sales associate

** Rolexes were deemed genuine due to the genuine-looking rolex symbol on watch face

New Pictures: The Bund and Jade Buddha and Lu Gardens and Shopping/Misc.

Budweiser Tastes Better In Southern China

2005-10-03T01:21:00.000-05:00

The Chinese know how to party. Faggedabout any myth you’ve heard about Chinese gene incompatibility with alcohol.

They’ve also figured out the whole nightlife scene as well. Each city we visited had a hot, happening and crowded bar and club district with high-end clubs comparable to the elite night spots in LA, New York and Vegas.

We happened upon one of these joints quite by accident after a kick-ass post dinner hour long reflexology foot massage (costing a whopping 12 bucks!).

We skipped out on the tour bus back to the hotel, bidding farewell to our happy footed friends and ventured out to see what Saturday night Guilin had to offer.

Although the hotel concierge suggested there might be a few bar areas downtown, we didn’t have any expectations, especially considering this was supposedly such a tiny little podunk Chinese town of only 600,000. But as we rounded the corner onto the major city blvd…

HOLY KUNG PAO EATING INSOMNIAC BATMAN! LOOK AT ALL THE PEOPLE!

We made our way to the bar district, walking past thousands of late nighting Guilinites who were checking out the 50 or so street fair booths hocking all varieties of handicrafts, food and the latest greatest cure-all Chinese potions.

The bar district was real cool with at least 10-15 night clubs and bars, each with Neon-lit signs and booming dance music pouring out from open doors and windows. For a moment, I thought I was back home on Sixth Street during a particularly raucous weekend party night.

We walked into one of the noisier clubs; a place that came recommended by our Guilin tour guide and took a seat at one of the tables. The place was packed and had all the familiar night club elements from home including a DJ, ear to his headphone, intently mixing the next track on dual turntables; light and laser displays including a huge LED light installation behind the DJ booth with an eye-popping, choreagraphed light display; wide screen, flat panel TVs with the latest European music videos playing and…. THE BUD GIRLS???

What the…?

"How strange is THIS??" I thought to myself.

I’m in a little city in Central China at a nightclub that could easily be the hottest spot on South Beach listening to really good house music and drinking a bottle of Budweiser I just purchased from the Chinese Bud Girls.

This was so surreal.

And then as fate would have it… it got even better. A girl from the audience stood up on a raised platform directly in front of the DJ booth, the DJ slapped a new disc on the turntable…a faintly familiar melody remixed to include a deep bass line… And she starts singing: HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME BY BRITTANY SPEARS!...IN ENGLISH NO LESS!

This was too good to be true. And oh did she work that song. This girl belted out the Brittany like she was on the finale of Chinese-American Idol…

And then a hidden rumbling from deep within…. I was overcome by an urgent need to dance. It must have been the Brittany….or the 3 Smooth, Crisp, Beachwood Aged Budweisers I just downed. Either way, I couldn’t deny the slow rhythmic lurchings of my waist.

Crap. Not now! Must…. Stop…..Hips….And….White….Man’s….Overbite…

Damn You Snake Wine!

Then I remembered …we were the only white people at the club. Well, actually, I was the only white person as my cohorts were Canadians of Asian descent. And boy did my blonde buzz-cut head glow. I looked like Super Honky covered with extra mayo and finished with two fresh slices of Wonder Bread.

If I started dancing, I would surely become the newest comedy sensation in all of Asia.

Thankfully, the angel on my shoulder prevailed and I planted my ass squarely on the chair… but not without a slight head bob from time to time.

After a few more Budweisers, I decided to let my photography subjects party in peace, so I left the club and looked for a ride back to the hotel.

Against the strong recommendations by our tour guide NOT to use the very dangerous local motorcycle taxi cab transportation system (remember… the Chinese drive like shite!), I strapped on a plastic contruction worker “helmet” with no padding and held on for dear life for a 10 minute ride back to the hotel.

New Pictures: GUILIN NIGHT CLUB and GUILIN MISCELLANOUS

Snake Wine Shooters On The Li River

2005-10-03T00:14:00.000-05:00

The next stop on our grand tour was Guilin. Described by our city guide Carol as a “small town” of 600,000, it was the most beautiful of the 4 cities we visited. While still very Chinese in its character, the majority of the city was restored about 8 years ago so all the city squares, streets and buildings had the neat and manicured look of suburbia – a stark contrast from the worn, working class neighborhoods and new gleaming high rises or Beijing and Xian.

While there are many temples and Pagodas to explore in Guilin (I need to see another pagoda like I need a hole in my head) the main draw of this city and surrounding area are the breathtaking mountain ranges that surround the city and adjacent Li river.

We arrived at the boat launch early in the morning the day after our arrival. Like everywhere else we’ve been, this was another one of those tourist spots with the infrastructure to efficiently channel large herds of tourists for their once-in-a-lifetime experiences.

We boarded one of the fifteen 70 person capacity boats sitting at the dock and found a seat at one of the 8 person tables arranged on the lower, enclosed and air conditioned decks where we would later be served lunch.

The 5 hour cruise started without much delay and suddenly I found myself in a new part of China. The industrial monstrosities of Beijing and Xian quickly faded away as we navigated down a river that snaked into the countryside, inhabited by people who relied more on the wealth of the land than the pocketbooks of tourists.

I joined the rest of the people on the boat and quickly made my way to the open air upper deck where we had an unobstructed view of the mountain ranges, animals and locals who lived and worked on the river.

The boat seemed to tip from side to side as people hurried from port to starboard and back trying to photograph all of curiosities we passed.

Some of the highlights included:

Majestic mountain ranges – the ones that the Chinese scroll artists seem to be imagining when painting those mystic fog shrouded peaks.
The goat herders, farmers and fisherman crouched on the shore tending their crops, daily catch or unruly goats
The parasitic “Kling-ons” who would latch their long bamboo rafts to the side of the moving boat and try to hock their cheap wares to the amused passengers on board.
The groups of children who would swim up to the boat, hands outstretched, yelling for spare coins to be thrown to them
Tired water buffalo cooling off in the water.
Boats with Cormorant birds, napping after a long night of fishing. (There are still fisherman who practice this ancient technique where trained birds dive underwater and bring fish back to their master. Rings placed around their necks prevent them from swallowing their catch.)

All of these curiosities provided a good 3 hours of picture taking opportunities, but after our onboard lunch, a few of us were looking for another diversion to help us pass the remaining 2 hours of our voyage.

That’s when I noticed the snake wine.

During her introduction of Guilin the day before, our tour guide mentioned some of the local Chinese medicine cures that are integral to the health care in the region. One of these medicines was a locally produced moonshine of snake soaked rice wine.

I didn’t actually expect to come across this exotic brew but there it was at the bar, a large bottle of “3 Snake Wine” with no less than all 3 of said snakes submerged in the bottle, their health-giving essence slowly merging with the slightly yellow tinged rice liquor.

Oh man, I gotta have me some of this snake hooch!

Cancer? Heart Disease? Impotence? Not in my lifetime! I heard it even cures general malaise and crankiness. Obviously I HAD to drink some… if only for Melissa’s benefit!

So I went around to some of the other people in the tour group and found 4 other accomplices to split the cost for a bottle.

Our bottle which was slightly smaller than the display only contained one snake but the label still claimed that cobra, rattlesnake and field snake were all used in its production. Thank God I thought. As its common knowledge that Cobra is the healthiest and most tasty!

By this time, our interest in ancient Chinese medicine produced a small gathering of curious spectators.

We each poured shot sized servings and prepared our beer chasers.

Down the hatch!

Wow that was nasty… yet smooth at the same time!

The taste would best be described as a combination of Japanese Sake and cheap tequila with subtle tones of formaldehyde and fish jerky.

Sojii, my new buddy from Toronto compared the flavor to snake ass which now that I think about it, is probably spot on though I’ve never actually tasted the ass of a snake.

After waiting a good 5 minutes, just to be sure we didn’t all keel over and die miserable and painful deaths, we finished the bottle. My mom even took a shot. Go mom!

Feeling slightly inebriated, probably due to my new found cancer fighting ability and virility, I went back to the upper deck to enjoy the rest of the cruise.

New Pictures of: LI RIVER CRUISE AND SOME HILLS AROUND GUILIN

Frozen Army Of Stone

2005-10-02T01:50:00.000-05:00

Xian is known as the home of the Spectacular Terracotta Soldier Army. Discovered in 1976 by a farmer digging a well, the terracotta army is the meticulously crafted life-size clay army built to protect the tomb of Emperor Qin Shi Huang.

Apparently the guy was really freaked out about dying so after trying a number of immortality potions, he finally gave up trying to live forever and decided the next best thing would be to create a majestic tomb with massive army to retain his power after death. He figured the best way to do this is force 100s of thousands of workers and artisans over the course of his lifetime to construct an underground tomb and more importantly 10s of thousands of life size soldiers to protect him.

The soldiers were made of terra cotta, and individually hand constructed to show detailed facial and hair features. Furthermore, horses, carriages and weapons were all included to create an exact replica of his real-life standing army.

No big deal right? Just another ancient ruler with an Oedipus complex…? Not quite. The shear magnitude of this archaeological find is staggering… prompting the accurate comparison to the Pyramids in Egypt or Mayan Ruins in Mexico.

So far, a little over 8000 have been uncovered and reconstructed, in 3 separate digs. These digs were our destination for our only full day in Xian.

Although the site is an hour outside of Xian in a sparsely populated part of the countryside, the government spared no expense on the facilities. The excavated sites were covered by huge blimp-hanger shaped buildings, providing accurate protection for the soldiers as well as plenty of space for the millions of visitors each year.

Additionally, there was a large museum showcasing some of the horses and carriages recovered, a decent restaurant custom-designed to handle multiple tour-bus sized groups for lunch and a circle vision move theater a la Disneyland which showed a goofy old Chinese-produced re-creation/documentary film which didn’t afford any additional insight into the history of the soldiers but did provide vertigo and neck cramps.

The big payoff of course were the soldiers themselves. We toured each of the 3 excavations, with the grand finale being the big room with 6000 of the soldiers.

I tried my best to take pictures which showed the shear scope of the excavations, but the pictures don’t do it justice. The final room was so large; it had its own hazy atmosphere. It was as if there was still dust hanging in the air kicked up from the horses and soldiers, frozen in a fierce attack stance, ready at any moment to spring to life and charge toward an invisible foe.

New Pictures: TERRACOTTA SOLDIERS, WILD GOOSE PAGODA, XIAN CITY WALL, XIAN OTHER

Sweaty Herbert

2005-09-15T16:30:00.000-05:00

We flew to Xian after a solid 5 days in Beijing and were greeted at the airport by our anti-perspirant challenged local guide “Herbert.”

Herbert, while not showing the polished professionalism and charm our secret-service-grade Beijing Guide Emily demonstrated, was an adequate leader and all-around fine fellow. So in honor of our time spent together, I have composed a Haiku for my clammy new friend:

Drops of rain on head
Trickle down like magic stream
Birds bathe in delight

Alternative Protein Sources

2005-09-15T16:02:00.000-05:00

(Warning: In a feable attempt to remain clever far after his single ounce of creative juice was wasted on a 5 Tsing Tao beer induced post to his blog yesterday, the author has decided to stoop to the lowest common creative denominator and use stomach-churning imagery to maintain the interest of his dwindling readership (a big shout out to you two!). Please set down your corn dogs and Yoplait cups before reading further…)

Before my trip to China, I was concerned about only two things:

The quality and safety of Chinese domestic airlines (totally unwarranted by the way. The planes, facilities and security are as good if not better than in the states.)
The food and corresponding sanitation issues.

So in preparation, I said a few pre-trip safe travel prayers and packed enough medicine to inoculate me against SARS, Bird Flu and whatever new gastrointestinal pestilence the Chinese food industry could invent.

However, most of this paranoia was pointless once I realized that a central tenet of the Well-oiled Communist Tourism Machine is to provide uncreative, westernized Chinese food at every opportunity.

The food so far has followed this unfailing pattern:

We sit down at a large 10 person table with monstrous lazy susan which covers about ¾ of the total table space.
We individual pick at the various pickled Chinese appetizers, usually pieces of pickled bamboo with spices or chunks of plain cucumber or freshly wok’d peanuts with a sprig of cilantro.
The waitresses walk around with large bottles of sprite, coca cola or the local beer and fill your glass with your preferred beverage.
Individual dishes are carried out and placed on the lazy susan in succession, usually in 5 minute increments and total about 6-10 different varieties. The food sometimes includes regional dishes but usually focus on simple, non-exotic items like stir fried vegetable, chicken or fish entrees.
The rice is brought out AFTER all of the above. Usually by the time everyone is starting to finish. I haven’t figure out if this is poor service or cultural.
The soup is brought out following the rice. To cleanse the palate?
And finally: WATERMELON! The Chinese LOVE watermelon. It’s ubiquitous, and included at the end of every meal.

Sure, the routine is fun, social and safe but after about 10 times, it gets a tad old. Needless to say, we were looking for a change.

So we decided to skip the group Beijing Duck and Opera evening and step out into the city naked to whatever China had to offer.

I’ve always considered myself an adventurous eater. By adventurous, I’m speaking mainly of the foreign onion and spice laden foods predominately found in the Vietnamese, Indian and Persian neighborhoods found in larger cities.

But like most people I have my limits. I’m not talking about the mystery meat dumplings found at shady dim sum restaurants or the aromatic Vietnamese Pho that uses MOST parts of the cow and stays with you for a good 12 hours. No, I’m talking about TV-grade food nastiness: the slimy, crunchy stuff found on shows like Cook’s tour, Travel Sick, Survivor and Fear Factor that elicits groans and dry heaving from its viewers.

Hoping to avoid such things, but still enjoy some local fare, we took a cab to a part of town called Wanfujin Street. It’s a large, high end shopping district with shiny name brand clothing, book and department stores.

Wanfujin street was a-bustlin' this evening with hordes of well-off locals and a few tourists. Hungry, we passed the McDonalds,KFC and Outback steak house branches making a wide berth around the hordes of bleary eyed westerners who haven’t yet acclimated to Asian eating and made our way to the Night Market.

The Night Market as described by my travel book is a small offshoot of Wanfujin street lined with vendors selling “small eats” - sort of a Beijing influenced type of dim sum.

Although arranged in an orderly line, the crowds, noise and odors pumping from the small, orange tarp roofed vendors created a bazaar-like atmosphere.

We walked over to the first booth and peered over at the selection. Their arrangement, as were most of the booths we encountered, was dominated by stacked rows of various skewered meats. Chicken, beef and pork were pretty easy to spot, but there were an equal assortment of animal food products which can best be described as “innards.”

Next booth… same thing…. Mostly. Here there were some new entries including squid, some eggs (that weren’t chicken size) and…. OH! Snake on a stick! Yikes.

We passed a few more booths similar to these two, and then stumbled upon the Night Market house of horrors.

Here we found the food distributor for Fear Factor. Rows upon rows of silkworms, crickets, centipedes, more snake (multiple varieties), something that looked like blood sausage and what appeared to be embryonic birds – all skewered and neatly arranged ready to make many happy bellies.

Pass!

We made it to the end, turned and started back along the path of gastronomic delights when I remembered: It was dinner time!

I started out with something tame, a skewer of beef that was deep fried, salted and then roasted for a few minutes over an open flame.

Then I moved on to something that looked a whole lot scarier but still acceptable to most American tastes: squid on a stick. While the thing looked like something out of the movie Aliens, it tasted no different than the calamari found at most Italian restaurants, sans the breading and tomato sauce. Nevertheless, it’s red pepper flaked tentacles flailing in the early evening breeze did slightly gross me out.

We finally reached our starting point again… but not before devouring some freshly prepared vegetable dumplings reminiscent of good Hong Kong style dim sum.

But wait! I’m missing something here. I just came halfway across the world to experience something new and cultural, and the best I can do is beef satay and calamari, both of which can be had at Disney-freakin-land??

“Not good enough” I said to myself. I need something different…something I can’t get at the Olive Garden or PF Changs. I need something crunchy…something with legs still attached…something with a stinger…something like… SCORPIONS!

I dizzily walked back toward the table with the bugs … not sure what had come over me. “I can’t even eat my eggs runny!” I thought to myself. “How was I supposed to consume a scorpion?”

No matter, I was on a mission…and needed the pictures to prove it. So with 15 Yuan in hand (about 2 bucks), I purchased my 3 scorpion skewer from the Frankenshop of food horrors.

Without hesitating I handed the camera to my mom, bought a can of YangYing beer and took a bite.

Crunch.

(10 second lapse)

Crunch

(another 5 seconds)

Crunch crunch crunch!

Hey not bad! It tastes like buttered popcorn!

Gulp. (beer now half gone)

Another bite and the critter ceased to exist.. 1 scorpion down the hatch and no heaving on the street! Success!

The other two were promptly trashed. I didn’t want to push my luck and spray my accomplishment on the street for all to see.

At this point, the green look on my mom’s face signaled the end of our cultural experience so we grabbed some more non-threatening dumplings and hopped in a cab to check out the lighted kite flying on Tiananmen Square, a popular Beijing family tradition.

New Pictures from the NIGHT MARKET ... LAMA TEMPLE (tibetan buddhism) ... MISC. PICTURES FROM BEIJING

Previously added pics:

...TIANANMEN SQUARE/FORBIDDEN CITY

...SUMMER PALACE

...PLANE AND ARRIVAL TO BEIJING

Authentic Beijing Neighborhood?

2005-09-11T09:29:00.000-05:00

On the last full day of our stay in Beijing, we paid for an optional tour of a typical Beijing “Hutong.”

A Hutong is a small traditional working class neighborhood where multiple families cluster in meager, flat roofed building with common bathrooms and kitchens. Although an integral part of Beijing’s history, they are practically extinct, quickly being razed and replaced by 50+ floor skyscrapers.

In an effort to defray some of the obvious PR issues associated with the systematic destruction of these neighborhoods, they’ve identified about 50 Hutongs which will be preserved, one of which we visited during our tour.

When deciding to take the tour, we were hoping for a small piece of authentic Chinese working class life. We’ve seen plenty of restored temples, palaces and pagodas. Here was our chance to see another side of the city.

Unfortunately what we ended up getting was another coordinated, government sponsored tourist destination.

The whole tour had the stench of a finely crafted public relations campaign.

Where were the poverty-stricken that we’ve had glimpses of down other, dirtier Hutong streets?

Why were there so many new roofs and freshly painted walls?

Why was the “local resident” that we visited as part of the tour not actually answering the questions posed, instead standing quietly by as the tour guide answered for her?

I'm torn about this trip. On one hand, I enjoyed the change of scenery. It really was different from the other, more developed areas of Beijing. On the other hand, I'm disapointed that we were directed to a not-so-accurate representation of a traditional Hutong.

New Pictures from the HUTONG

Previously added pics:

...MING TOMBS

...GREAT WALL

...TEMPLE OF HEAVEN

...TIANANMEN SQUARE/FORBIDDEN CITY

...SUMMER PALACE

...PLANE AND ARRIVAL TO BEIJING

Camels, Coffee And The Seventh Wonder Of The World

2005-09-08T10:23:00.000-05:00

Armed with my double water bottle holstered, uber-nerd fanny pack (with ergonomic upolsterd back pad), we set out on day three of our trip to become “Heroes” on the Great Wall.

As an American, I already consider myself a hero; a crusader of peace and justice, a bringer of freedom to all the world’s people (whether they want it or not), but today, I wanted to live up to Chairman Mao’s expectation for every Chinese citizen worth their soy sauce to climb the great wall at least once in their lifetime.

So what better place to accomplish this most honorable of endeavors but to participate in the swarm of humanity that is called Badaling.

Badaling is the most restored section of the Great Wall, practically rebuilt from the ground up to provide a proper location for the world’s Kodak moments and David Copperfield television specials. Likewise, it has all the telltale markings of a tourist’s wet dream (or nightmare depending on who you ask).

While a seasoned adventurer might choose a more authentic Great Wall experience by purposefully avoiding this area and opting for a half-day hike along many of the other equally beautiful and less crowded sections, Badaling has been masterfully designed to provide the most convenient point of entry for Great Wall (quarter)daytrippers.

First, and most importantly, there is a massive parking lot well-suited for the convoy of tour busses that haul their cargo to and fro each day. Secondly there are plenty of gift, snack and coffee shops to provide a comfortable retreat for weary trekkers after their harrowing 15 minute march to a point high enough on the wall to snap a good pic. And of course, there are the numerous, ever-present peddlers hocking mao wat

Tiananmen Square, Forbidden City And Other Very Large Spaces

2005-09-06T10:44:00.000-05:00

Day 1 of the actual Tour seemed to follow the theme: Places Where Large Numbers Of People Can Loiter

The first stop of the day was a quickie at the Temple Of Heaven. We couldn’t get into the actual temple, which was a bummer, due to renovation, but we were able to tour the gardens.

The temple was closed for renovation, but the gardens were very interesting. It’s a huge expanse with intertwining walkways amidst trees and lawns where there are scores of locals, both old and young, engaged in various activities including ballroom dancing, kung fu, tai chi, fan dancing and hackey sack. For those uninterested in the physical activities, there are long open-air hallways where we encountered groups of old men exchanging money over Mahjong, and little old ladies singing old Chinese songs to small clustered groups of onlookers. We even had the pleasure of hearing a choppy version of Yankee Doodle Dandy awkwardly honked out on an old Saxophone as we walked by (this was especially amusing since we three where the only Americans from the group of 39 who are mostly Canadian and Australian).

Our next stop was Tiananmen Square which is much grander and larger than any picture can suggest. This is when the giant nationalistic symbols: Portraits of Mao, Chinese Flags and Various Government Buildings and Statues remind you that you are in the Most Powerful Communist Nation in the world.

As we drove past it to the parking lot for the bus, we were able to see the mult-hour long line of people waiting for access in to the Mao Zedong Memorial where the actual body of Mao is encased in a glass case for all to see set in suspended animation assisted by six gallons of formaldehyde pumped into his body immediately after his death.

The grounds of Tiananmen Square were jam packed with Asian & Western tourists, most of who were surrounded by the persistent street vendors selling books of postcards, Rolex knockoffs and cheap had waving mao watches which in my opinion are the goofiest, most perfect souvenirs ever imagined.

We didn’t stand in line for the corpse-of-Mao show or for any of the museums, as we were saving our legs for the march through the Forbidden City…

The Forbidden City is probably best described through pictures (see link at bottom) or by watching The Last Emperor which was partly filmed on location. Like the Temple of Heaven, much of the Forbidden City is under renovation but luckily wasn’t closed to tourists. But just like the art museums in Europe, you can get burnt out quickly by the sheer number of wow-take-a-picture-of-that views.

Following a short lunch, we arrived at our final stop for the day, the Summer Palace. Like the Temple of the Moon, and the Forbidden City, there were plenty of good picture taking opportunities including the large man-made lake adjacent to the palace grounds, the hand painted hallways, and abundant, beautifully designed palace guest houses and servants quarters that seem to magically spring up from the sides of the mountains.

The summer palace is best know for the “world’s largest” corridor which is open air, roughly the width of two Americans, about ¼ - 1/3 of a mile long and covered in thousands of handpainted Chinese landscapes and mythological scenes.

By this time, I was totally exhausted and burnt out… and am still dog tired while I write this, so while the marble boat statue and creaky old dragon boat ride deserve at least another 1000 words of explanation, I’ll let the pictures tell the story…

New pictures from the TEMPLE OF HEAVEN... TIANANMEN SQUARE/FORBIDDEN CITY... and SUMMER PALACE

Previously added pics:

...PLANE AND ARRIVAL TO BEIJING

Cooking Expertise

2005-09-06T10:27:00.000-05:00

We start each day in Beijing with a breakfast at the hotel. It is buffet style with an assortment of continental, American and Asian items. Nothing really interesting to report here except for the cooking utensil of choice used by the egg station cook. Apparently he has decided that a flat wooden stick approximately twice the width of a chopstick to be the most efficient tool to cook eggs with. I find it comical the amount of effort exerted in trying to manage the cooking egg, hopelessly sticking to the pan edges.

I've thought about suggesting to him the brilliant invention called the spatula, but he doesn't look like the kind of person who would bother with such ridiculous observations that early in the morning. So I've left frustrated-enough alone and thank him kindly each morning for my stabbed-to-death omelet.

Chinese Spy Games Update

2005-09-06T10:04:00.000-05:00

Well it turns out that my Chinese secret agent friend is actually a tour guide in training. So much for my James Bondesque fantasies of Chinese secret agents hot on my trail…

But now, I’ve realized that I’ve been duped. All along it turns out, kind, sweet Emily; tour-guide extraordinaire, is ACTUALLY the spy. Well, spy-in-training in my estimation. It’s the perfect front: Have a young, non-intimidating Asian girl provide city tours for westerners so she can learn their subtle language and behavioral complexities. I mean for God’s sake, she used the phrase HERDING CATS! What Chinese person… what ANY person outside of the US would know what the flip “Herding Cats” means?

Only the hyper-aware, as I sometimes consider myself, would pick up on these tell-tale signs.

Don’t believe me? Well how about this one:

Just yesterday she mentioned that she was trying to learn an American accent.

Translation: It will be easier for me to steal American nuclear secretes while lulling my American military contact into a false sense of security with my folksy, down-home southern drawl.

Oh.. and here’s another one… just today, on our way back to the hotel in our bus, we dropped her off at the “office” so she can “prepare” for her next tour group. Surrrrre, Emily… PLAN for the next group indeed!

The Chinese Secret Police Officer Onboard My Bus

2005-09-06T09:42:00.000-05:00

It just occurred to me that there is a shady looking Chinese Guy that keeps appearing and disappearing from our group. Call me crazy, or a little paranoid, but I wonder if he’s a government agent. He seems to be traveling alone, is tall and skinny and has beady little eyes.

Well the beady eyes thing I just made up, but I’m certain he’s with the Chinese secret service. Probably keeping tabs on me since my middle name, Mohamad, probably popped up on their “American Citizens Who Are Terrorists Because Their Middle Name Is Mohamad” list.

The ill-fitting white linen Polo-branded cap gave it away. No Asian in his right mind would be caught dead in a hat like that unless they were practicing: Ancient Chinese Art Of Blending Inconspicuously With Western-Looking Terrorists.

Well you can’t fool this Terrorist…Even if I actually was one.

The Well-Oiled Communist Tourism Machine

2005-09-06T09:37:00.000-05:00

In all honesty, I wasn’t completely convinced about the group tour concept. I’ve never traveled with a tour group in the past, usually relying on a tour book, a local, or dumb luck to guide me through a new locale. But then again I have never traveled outside the safety blanket of western or Latin American culture. My sporadic spanglish and/or the locals mastery of English has usually proven sufficient in my previous travel experiences. So joining an organized tour seemed like cheating; a lazy excuse for lazy Americans who aren’t creative or self-sufficient enough to do it on their own.

The decision to do the tour this time however was based on different criteria. Specifically:

Cost: Since this tour is operated by CITS which is basically the tourism arm of the Chinese government, it was heavily subsidized, only costing $1300 for all the hotels, local flights, most food and the bus transfers and local tour guide in each city.
Health: We felt that participating in an organized tour with a local tour guide a larger group of people offered obvious health and safety advantages while traveling with my grandfather.

Aside from my preconceptions, the tour so far has exceeded my expectations.

The tour guide, Emily (her English name chosen for her love of the author Emily Dickenson) is VERY good. Her English is far beyond adequate, obviously mastered from University level education. She’s well versed in the history and relevance of our tour stops. And her organization skills are extraordinary as she is able to (in her surprising use of American vernacular) “herd cats.”

The hotels and intercity/inter-regional transportation was a big unknown for me as well, but once again, my low-expectations were wrong. The hotel was surprisingly good, comparable to a Marriott or other 3 ½ to 4 star hotel with efficient service, a health club, spa, clean pool and wireless web access in the lobby. The buses are modern, clean and air-conditioned. And the food, while not what I would consider fine dining, is certainly acceptable (think slightly better and oilier than Panda Express.) with each restaurant we are brought to specializing in a different regional style of Chinese cooking.

My only complaint so far is the expected, but still annoying periodic scheduled stops at tourist trap gift shops that are prevalent in these kinds of organized tours. In Beijing, we’ve already had the privilege of visiting a freshwater pearl store disguised as a museum, an overpriced Jade store that was billed as a “rest stop” on the way to the Great Wall, and a Chinese pottery store and "educational" tour that was required in order to gain access to the on-premise banquet room where lunch was awaiting us. The last stop was particularly humourous as they provided the only meal which included unlimited alcoholic beverages. Obviously, a great marketing technique!

These annoyances aside, I think Emily (and the larger Chinese Tourism machine) should be commended for a well priced, well organized tourism system. We’ll see if the quality holds up later in the trip.

First Impressions

2005-09-04T07:45:00.000-05:00

I just passed hour 25 of my let’s-see-how-long-I-can-go-without-sleeping marathon and my head is about to explode. Not due to the ozone hole hula hoops we flew through earlier today… no, that just gave me a pounding headache. I think the information overload is what’s ultimately going to do me in. I committed to not sleeping until 9pm Beijing Time so as to not extend my jet lag any longer than possible. Hopefully a little pain now will shield me from a whole lot more later.

So what have I learned during my first 8 hours in the PRC? The Chinese people are on a mission. Period. There is so much construction going on everywhere, you’d think these people are fixated on taking over the world… or prepping for the next Olympics. Construction Cranes litter the city like massive steel flamingos. The airport they’re building (most definitely in preparation for the 2008 Olympics) is freaking massive! Like 3 LAXs lined up side by side. Everyone seems like they’re laser focused on getting somewhere, although a bit more casually as compared with the average New Yorker.

And you can see how the west is infiltrating the culture here. North American chain restaurants abound. Ipod billboards brightly compete with Nestle-branded Green Tea drink ads. Toshiba and Sony Signs blast their neon radiation onto the street. And everywhere there are flat panel monitors, flashing the latest greatest autos from VW and Citroen. Yet, unlike the visuals one often sees of Tokyo thoroughfares, Times Square or Las Vegas, there is still a sense of the traditional element of Chinese culture. The makeshift fruit and vegetable markets and the overloaded bicycles scattered all over the street still seem to keep them grounded in their past.

Two other interesting observations so far include the insane level of friendliness and helpfulness by the Chinese people I’ve encountered so far and the surprising number of white, western couples with very young Chinese babies. Adoptions undoubtedly. There’s just so many! Oh, and one last thing. The Chinese drive like shit. They all need to go back to diver’s ed because frankly, they drive like a bunch of crack addicts.

Just Another Day At The North Pole

2005-09-04T07:42:00.000-05:00

5 Hours and 30 minutes into my flight to Beijing and we are directly over the North Pole. There are giant slabs of white broken up by metallic blue cracks uncovering the ocean below, like a cluster of frosty white Molokai-sized islands of ice. I was kind of hoping to see some polar bears or marching penguins but apparently I’m on the wrong side of the earth for that. Just miles and miles of frozen H20, slowly melting under the sun’s glare.

Oh! I think we just flew through a hole in the ozone layer! By God! I’m starting to glow! (is that bad?)

Continental Boeing 777 Business Class is pretty pimp although I don’t understand the purpose of stuffing us full of so much food. So far I’ve endured a 6 course lunch followed by a 2 course “snack” and am currently awaiting the 3 course pre-arrival “light meal.” It’s like a human Foi Gras farm – but with cushy seats. Either they’re preparing us for the Soylent Green factories in China or their studies show that fat, rich Americans full of food are less likely to torment the flight attendants.

Speaking of fat, rich Americans, I’m actually quite surprised to see so many people fit this unfortunate profile up here in Business Class. I was expecting to be surrounded by young Asian and American businessmen and women frantically hacking away on their notebooks, but apparently they’re all at a convention in Sydney.

Going to take a break and watch Layer Cake on my notebook… 7 hours left until we arrive.

CLICK HERE FOR PLANE & BEIJING ARRIVAL PICTURES

Backpack Feng Shui

2005-08-28T21:42:00.000-05:00

Fast approaching the departure date for ALAN'S CHINESE EXTRAVAGANZA 2005 (fancy name eh?) and I haven't even completed 10% of my packing. I think I'll wait till tomorrow, due to my need for a new backpack. Unfortunately my oakley backpack, in all its circa 1995 post-nuclear coolness, is woefully inadequate for anything other than annoying the hell out of its owner as he tries, unsuccessfully, to retrieve anything from it without having to completely disassemble the numerous, completely pointless buckles that cover the main zippered compartment and not bust his fingers in the process.

I remember when I first got it 10 years ago via my oakley employee hookup thinking how badass it was and how sweet it would be to take it snowboarding... because it had this totally killer oakley logo and it looked like something from a Mad Max movie and especially because it totally matched my snowboard jacket.... and because it was waaayyy badass... and had killer buckles... and...was sweet...and....

yea, i was that lame back then

So like a truly brainwashed consumer, I decided that I have no choice but to replace it tomorrow with some overpriced pack from REI. Y'know.... because... I REALLY NEED something more FUNCTIONAL for China...

"Why?" you ask "is your backpack so important that it requires you to replace it?"

Well, I'll tell you: because of my need to safely transport the numerous technological devices that I have decided are indispensible for my tour. You see, a trip to the Great Wall or the Terra Cotta soldiers in Xian would just not be complete without my ability to

Track my average speed, distance and calories burned during my Great Wall trek via GPS
Listen to the new Gorillaz album on my iPod
Fire up the notebook, jump onto an unsecured, wireless Internet connection, upload all the days pictures to my Flickr account and post my blog entry
Strap on my USB computer headset, fire up Skype and use the same unsecured connection to make free telephone calls home
And of course, wake up at 1AM China time to jump on same unsecured wireless connection to listen to streaming broadcast of UT football game against the Ohio State Buckeyes

So tell me dear reader, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ALL THIS WITHOUT A FANCY NEW BACKPACK TO TRANSPORT MY COMPUTER AND ALL NECESSARY ACCESSORIES DESCRIBED ABOVE WHILE ENSURING THE UTMOST SAFETY WHILE MINIMIZING STRESS ON THE LOWER BACK AND SHOULDERS?!

priorities man... it's all about priorities.

What I intend to accomplish with this blog

2005-08-23T22:11:00.000-05:00

I would imagine that since I'm rather green to this whole techy "blog" thing, it would be premature for me to really know and likewise state what I intend to do here. But I can provide an early rough draft of my literary manifesto:

To journal and share, my travel experiences.
To rant about things when I can't find any willing participants/listeners.
To document interesting thoughts and experiences in my life, hopefully providing some good drunk party fodder for the future.
To discipline myself to write outside of the narrow confines offered by outlook and instant messenger.
To build an electronic soapbox in which to share my revolutionary and wholly unique world view. (nuff said)

Now that I've narrowed the scope of this and have planted my two feet squarely on the ground of realistic expectations, let's see what happens...

(web trend disclaimer: yea, i know this whole blog thing is like soooooo august 2003 and that someone who works in the technology industry should be better prepared at recognizing and adopting new technology before it becomes passe, but cut me some slack! at least i didn't completely miss out on this like I did the whole friendster craze and subsequent backlash...)