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Disclaimer: I wrote all this in a relaxed, inebriated, hung over, free, or happy state of mind. I may no longer be as such as you read this. I came back to work on April 14.

Epilogue: The Last Hurrah in SoCal

Ah, reunions. On Friday afternoon, after a harrowing flight from Hong Kong to LA, Joe picked me up from LAX and rallied Marion, Ray, and Chuck to his place for some pre-party Rock Band and K-clubbing at Le Cercle. For those not in the know, Le Cercle is LA's premiere Korean booking club. That means waiters bring the girls to your table and you try to impress the hell out of 'em.



We eligible bachelors took a big table that had the ladies swooning with money hungry eyes and booze loving tendencies. And since I made a somewhat conscious decision to keep my cool this evening, I would like to proudly claim that I was a good kid the entire time. But in an establishment like that, one can only say it's all relative.





The next morning, and by morning I mean mid afternoon, I realized that I decided to skip my Saturday flight and drive down to San Diego to partake in Patrick's engagement party. And when I say 'decided', I mean I slept through my departure time. We had some pretty damn good dancing that night, and reuniting with old college pals was a trip. A perfect way to end this month long escape.


But Stephen, what are you escaping? Nothing. In fact, I'm actually moving toward something.

Then Stephen, what are you moving toward? Something. In fact, it's closer than I realize.

Hell Stephen, how close is it? Pretty close. It's something my uncle told me before I left Hong Kong.




What's that supposed to mean? I don't know. But I do know I like making faces for the camera. When am I going to drop Magnum on you? Not yet. You gotta tame the beast before you let it out of its cage.

Day Twenty: The End.

Ah the end is nigh. The last days and nights of this Sabbatablog draw to a close. Tonight, I saw Jason and Janice off at Lan Kwai Fong (the party district of Hong Kong) after dinner at Hu Tong, a swank Shanghai restaurant experience overlooking Hong Kong Bay. The next couple days will be spent in a family reunion for the masses: Millionaire uncles, entrepreneur cousins, and way too much showing off to do. As this will likely be the end of my journal entries, please show Tina she is not the only one bored at work. Please leave a comment, even if it's just a Hi. Tell me you care. Tell me you actually read this sabbatablog. Tell me why I should come back to reality. Because this has been the most amazing trip I've ever had.

In Cantonese, Joy geen.
In Japanese, Ja ne.
In Korean, Ita buja.

See you later.

Day Nineteen: Hong Kong

The hotels just keep getting better and better! The Hotel Ibis in Korea gave us everything we wanted and put us in the heart of the best shopping and food consumption in Seoul. The Park Hotel Tokyo lavished us with top notch service and put us within a few blocks of the most luxurious district in Tokyo. And now, the Renaissance Harbour View in Hong Kong has placed me in a deluxe room with a view to die for and within minutes of the most amazing shopping mall (IFC) and the best dim sum and siu long bao I've had in a long, long time. I love you long time.

Yesterday, the Jason and the Janice met up with me at my hotel after returning from a food poisoning adventure through Thailand. For a monster like Jason, it is truly disheartening to hear he could not eat for a few hours. But it's okay, we navigated our way to a great Cantonese restaurant called Crystal Jade, recommended by my friend Patrick when I was in Japan. The siu long bao (little dragon dumpling), was awesome! The soup within it had a flavor that put me in utter ecstacy, and so, we ordered three boxes of them, prompting the waiter to ask in disbelief, "Really? Are you sure?" Janice proudly responded, "These are big guys. Just bring it!" She didn't actually say that.

But seriously, walking around with the Jason and the Janice in Hong Kong is like touring a city with two beasts. They are the most monstrous Asians I know, and everywhere they go, the natives stare at them like lab experiments gone horribly right. Oh, by the way, I found myself another thing to kick in the balls, but after considering the fact that an actual human being inhabited the Nescafe shell, I decided to just drink some of its coffee. Meanwhile, a confused little girl stood beside me, wondering what I was doing. I told her if she kicked the giant red cup in the balls I'd tell her.

My parents and I went to Nobu at the Intercontinental last night. It's located right on the shoreline of the Kowloon side, looking out to the dazzling Hong Kong skyline. As we dined on somewhat disappointing sushi (keep in mind I just left Japan) and a gin martini, we admired the glittering lights and uber trendy decorum. Definitely a must-see for anyone visiting Hong Kong, the Intercontinental is a great spot for meeting up and venturing out around the Tsim Sha Tsui area. Shopping, bars, and the Peninsula hotel for tea time. I spiked my tea.

Oh, here's a weird thing about Hong Kong bathrooms. The urinals are like freakin' targets, no freedom to aim wherever you want! Look at this photo of the urinals at the IFC mall. They're basically square wall bowls with a wall divider that couldn't be any bigger than the orange dividers in the Triage SF office. In other words, completely and utterly useless. As I tower over my wall bowl, I can (but didn't) see out of the corner of my eye the entire other wall bowl. This is one of the reasons I can't live in Hong Kong. Another reason is the fact that I am at least an Extra Large in clothing sizes. And they hardly, if ever, carry Extra Larges. This is why HGH and steroids aren't a problem in Asia.

I'm not about to end this entry with a picture of a urinal, so here's another paragraph for your follow-up call distraction enjoyment. Plastered across the subways, malls, and sidewalks, an incredbly distracting ad campaign had me stumbling into other pedestrians, walking into turnstyles, and nearly falling onto the subway tracks. Thank infinity for the protective glass walls. I was wondering what they were for, and now I know. The Hong Kong people like putting half naked women up everywhere. Hm, maybe there is a reason to move here?

I'll be back in California on Friday, and my college buddies and I are going to Le Cercle in LA (a Korean booking club). I'll practice my Korean there, but I promise to not make any trouble. There's someone else I'm planning on doing that with. *wink*

Day Fifteen: Photoblogging

Sakura flowers blooming along Sakura Blvd in Ueno Park














Homeless Man in Ueno Park















Stephen kicking the Colonel















The Road to Mt. Fuji















Tomodachi Patrick and Charmaine in the Tonkatsu House















The 25-layered, leek & garlic filled Tonkatsu from Heaven














Shimbashi Station, our starting point for all adventures in Tokyo














Lazy Cat in the Park






















Warning: Do Not Feed the Birds or Else






















Old Man Relaxing at the Lake






















Ray Ray at the Temple















Asakusa Temple

Day Thirteen: Snow Falling on Cedars

Well, I kicked something else in the nuts. A huge ceramic raccoon up in the foothills of Mt. Fuji, famed for its role in a mythical story dating back to ancient times. I snuck up behind it, and as the falling snow temporarily blinded it, I jumped forward and launched my thunderbolt of a foot toward its jewels. In this photo, you can see how caught by surprise it was when I marked a third ball-busting victory on my tour of Asia. This one was for you, Tina Chang.


Yes, it was snowing today, which made the otherwise surprisingly miserable tours of Mt. Fuji and Hakone Hot Springs memorable ones. For the former, the weather got so bad they closed off a majority of the mountain, and for the latter, it smelled so bad I kept asking Ray, "Are you suuurre you didn't fart??" My brother's pretty crude. It's probably why Jason reminds me so much of him. In any case, the snow was a nice touch to the trip. Without it, I can say this was the worst tour I've ever experienced. Sugoi.

Here are the freakin' hot springs. For those who don't know, with hot springs come sulfur seeping out of the earth. And for those who don't know what to know, sulfur stinks like North Florida Times One Hundred. It was so GD awful, and with the freezing cold and the gusting winds blowing rotten egg fart stenches toward my already overly sensitive nose, I nearly threw up every breakfast and every lunch and ever dinner I've had so far in Tokyo. It was so bad I kicked that raccoon in the nuts.


Ah, but there is a highlight to the past couple of days. Food. Big freakin' surprise, Stephen. We found a cheap and cool gyoza (dumpling) joint tucked away in the armpit of Harajuku, a district that has quickly become my favorite one across the entire city. With a huge thoroughfare of mid to upscale shopping and alleys filled with Haight Ashbury type stores, Harajuku is what I would be if I was a neighborhood: great food, plenty of things to explore, a blend of old and new, and frequented by cute girls.

Har, har. Oh so we got to ride the mega-fast train from the Mt. Fuji area to Tokyo today. Take a look at this photo. See the light grey streak in the midle, right above the blue line? Those are the windows, which are about a couple inches apart from each other. This bullet train, called the Shinkansen, made my dorky ass brother say, "Gee whiz, bro, this makes me feel like I'm in Star Trek!" I'm not kidding. He actually said that. But I know, I know...a couple of months ago I said something about psychokinesis. Urusei! (shut up!)

K, here are some photos.



"See, we're born with killer instinct, that you can't just turn off and on like some radio!"
-Rocky Balboa, from Rocky IV, the best Rocky ever.

Day Twelve: Onaka ga suita! (I'm starving!)

Ramen: We found a quaint, but somewhat popular, ramen bar that we'll be frequenting throughout the rest of the trip. Upon the chef's briefing of the three styles (soy sauce-based soup, soy sauce and spicy sauce, soy sauce and vinegar), we both ordered the first option, which turned out to be the most interesting ramen I've ever had. With a bit of a peanut sauce taste, it warmed my freezing soul and plastered a comforting smile across our faces. We'll definitely be back.


Fish Market Sushi: At an early 6am, Raymond and I groggily stumbled not 15 minutes before reaching the world famous fish market. Bustling with trucks, carts, and hundreds of fisherman in a hangar-like warehouse, the fish market made Pusan's market look like a 7-Eleven. After figuring our way out of the auction and sales areas, we found ourselves in the tiny restaurant section, where we found out why sushi in Japan is the best sushi in the world. The salmon was smooth as silk, the toro melted in my mouth, and the uni changed my opinion on not eating it ever again. Fantastic.

Bar Food: Dispelling the myth that bar food is by definition, bad, our friend Melissa took us to a tucked away bar in Shibuya. There, we unexpectedly feasted on agadashi tofu, fantastic chicken legs, soul food rice, sushi, and two bottles of really nice sake (at only $10 a piece!). We sat in a Japanese style setting (legs crossed, no chairs - even though I'm great in chair), perched atop a mezzanine overlooking the rest of the restaurant. A giant Buddha statue hung out in the back of the room, content with his big belly and all the patrons having a great time. And remember: no shoes allowed.

Thanks Mel!


Shibuya, shibuya. Sha-sha-shabuya!