Post 1: Windy City Warm-Up

Athletes don't compete without a warm-up. As a mid-distance runner, I find my warm-ups longer than the race itself. After all, a proper warm-up tunes the mind and the body for optimal performance.

Before my expedition South-East Asia even began, my stop-over in Chicago turned into a legitimate day-trip with hell breaking loose. But between the lost baggage and missed flight to Hong Kong were some grand times. I felt the strong wind in Windy City, it prepared me for the storm I'm about to experience in the next few weeks.

"Probability" is a funny thing. Mathematicians say it always evens itself in the long-run, but economist will tell you we're all dead in the long-run. Somehow, on August 21st, the unthinkable happened; the metro broke-down in the middle of a tunnel while on my way to O'Hare international, causing a delay. I missed Flight UA895 to Hong Kong. Unbelievable. Have I actually met the end of my journey before it began?

I did not get furious, nor was I upset. I sat at the O'Hare airport waiting area like a piece of wood and watched thousands of travelers pass by in front of me, trying to figure out a way to "even out" the probability. Newtonian physics predict classical dynamics, and the breakage of trains, the only thing unpredictable is people. So I that's where I placed my chips.

I walked over to Air Canada counter and explained my situation. The counters are quiet, as usual. The Air Canada agent put aside her Fifty Shades of Grey and listened to me attentively. She was very understanding. We began discussing various options, and even that of flying somewhere else and get a transfer to Hong Kong. But in the end, she looked at me, looking sadder than I was she told me there is "absolutely nothing" she could do. I nodded and thanked her for all her help. I thought about turn around and start hitch-hiking back to Canada, yet that's when probabilities evened itself out. The Air Canada agent checked the screen one more time. There was a cancellation.

Air Canada flew me back to Toronto, arranged pick-ups and accommodation, provided meal vouchers, and shipped me off to Hong Kong the next morning all for free.

It's going to get windy, and there'll be storms ahead. So what do we do?
Never ever EVER give up. Ever. Especially on humanity.

Intro: Expedition South-East

It's the kind of summer that are so eventful, that it seemed shorter with each memory. I enjoyed the family times, beer and friends, guitar and bon-fire, and weekend trips in the midst of a hard week working at the factory, and a few other bumps on the road...

Three years ago I took you along with me to the French countryside. Two years ago, it was South Africa. And in the next month before I start my exchange term at University of Hong Kong, I'll be writing about my travels in South-East Asia. Major destinations include Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Mount Kinabalu, and Hong Kong. Please feel free to email me your address, I'll be sending post-cards!

After a turbulent first half to 2012, I feel that this is a journey I need to make; on the road, discovering the wonders of the people and places, seeking truth to matters of life, jumping hurdles... and growing, as the person I am to become.

Something is only worthwhile when we do it with a purpose. Below is a list I made the top 10 things I'm going to accomplish:

• Hike half-marathon (21km) on foot
• Spend a full day and night on the beach
• Train with a Muay-Thai boxer
• Watch a cock fight
• Swim beneath a waterfall
• Spend a day on the sea with fishermen
• Visit remote villages and tribes on bike/motorbike
• Mediate at a monastery
• Dive in the Indian Ocean
• Watch sunrise from the peak of Mt. Kinabalu

Let the summer begin.
Friends, I'll see you soon.

A One of a Kind Religion: Fishing

This summer I picked up a new hobby in fishing. I've gotten so into it that I'm considering upgrading my "Conservation" fishing permit to a "Sport" license. In my countless fishing trips near-by and afar, I'm starting to grasp the spiritual aspect of fishing.

Fishing is like a religion, it starts with faith. You've got to believe without seeing - the same mystery force behind the kind of blind love, unconditional help, and reasonless pursuit. Despite the stories you hear, the fishing signs you see, the articles you read, or whatever Google Image brings up, and even your own experiences, the thought of "maybe there are no fish here today" somehow always come across one's mind. Believing is the hardest part; it's the part that defies human logic and principles of experimental methods. To fish is to take this leap of faith. It starts the moment you believe that there ARE fish in the lake.

The ritual aspect of fishing is more clear-cut. The way a fisherman preps his tackle box and hooks his bait is as consistent as any celebration. As a church-goer gives all his attention to the priest, eyeing him, carefully listening to his words,  through him he connects with God. And the fisherman? His eyes are locked on the float, hands tight on the fishing rod, trying to "feel" the perhaps-non-existent-fish through the subtle movement of the fishing line. Each vibration, each shock gives him new hope. Then comes patience... perhaps one's worst virtue, denies church-goer entry to heaven, and fisherman his catch.

Religion is but a back-and-forth rally between faith and reality.
I guess the only way to understand it is to be at the lake every Sunday ;)