The Korea Chronicles, Volume V

Greetings, precious blog reader(s).

The author sits at home listening to the raindrops arrhythmically beat against the window, eating biscuits and drinking tea. He is slightly vexed. By the rain? No. By the incorrigible beasts (Korean real estate agents) who seem to delight themselves in disturbing his privacy at least once, but sometimes several times a day, often in the midst of him partaking in one of man's greatest pleasures (naps).

But I digest.

After all, they are simply doing their job, albeit very aggressively. (sigh)

"I'm sorry to hear that, Erik. Why don't we engage in some confabulation about recent events?"

Ok. Well, the reader may recall from a certain previous post, how the author solemnly vowed to exact his revenge upon the nation of Korea. Many of you are undoubtedly wondering, how will this vengeful oath manifest itself? Perhaps, some of you were even pleading on the behalf of Korea, hoping that I would be merciful, as the esteemed Jean Valjean was merciful to even the worst of his enemies.

To you, I apologize. The proverbial loins have been girded. The proverbial war chariots have been readied. The manifestation has already begun. In what form, you ask?

Various forms, but mostly taunting.

"Taunting? Good heavens, no!!"

Yes, indeed. Here's one for the record: "Korea, I fart in your general direction."

Phase One of my revenge consisted of harsh taunts such as these. These unbearable taunts have spewed forth unbridled from the author's lips and, for the most part, have caused irreparable damage. With the very core of Korea's self-esteem having been successfully undermined, the path is now clear for the next phase: total domination. Phase Two of my conquest began this past weekend, and in rare form. Allow me to share the finer points.

Phase Two, Part A: Muuido Island, Incheon Korea.

Muuido is a small island on the west coast of Korea, close to Incheon International airport. The mission? Storm the beach and secure the island.

If imitation is the highest form of flattery, General Douglas MacArthur would be quite flattered at our amphibious landing at Incheon . Muuido's beach was stormed with the aid of this very large and intimidating boat.



Upon this boat stood a crew of inexorable warriors, each specialized in different areas:

Sam Kim - Our local wise man. Expert in jungle warfare.

Ewa Basiukiewicz - Skilled sniper and viciously accurate knife thrower.

Krystle Wilcox - Expert in explosives and decorating pretty stuff.

Christina Welch - World renowned in hand-to-hand combat. Able to smash skulls and other hard things with ease.

Amanda Pickerell - Cut-throat radio operator. Also smashes skulls.

Becky Elie - Possesses expertise in snacks and singing happy songs, which might distract the enemy.

and myself, Erik Johnson - expert in creating flamboyant diversions.


With our powers combined, we were a force to be reckoned with: "Muuido, you who are about to be conquered, we salute you."

"Hello, ladies. Do you like my white socks? Great for flamboyant diversions."


Meet our friend, Jonathan the Seagull. Circling the boat, he would perform awe-inspiring tricks such as catching food projectiles in mid-air and then reciprocating these gifts with a few projectiles of his own: awe-inspiring poop.


We ate some crabs, still clothed in their exoskeletons:

Beaches stormed? Check. Gluttonous lunch devoured? Check. With our energy replenished, the next step would naturally be to draw enemy fire. Using my expertise, I created a flamboyant diversion, while others secured positions:

The weather was beautiful, perfect for a caucasian invasion. Muuido - can you say, "conquered"?

Phase Two, Part B: Shilmido Island, Incheon Korea.

Shilmido is a smaller neighboring island. A little history: this island was used as a secret training camp for prisoners in the 1960's. These prisoners were trained to embark on a secret mission to assassinate the North Korean leader, Kim Il Sung. A sweet movie was made about it in 2003.

The only way to get to this neighboring island was to wait for the tide to recede. It did, revealing a secret land-brigde:

This island had several impressive and daunting rock formations, begging to be conquered by white disease-carrying frontiersmen:

Death was defied on several occasions, such as this one:

But, in the end, victory belongs to the brave and the bold:


Despite many booby traps, murder-holes, and machine gun nest ambushes, Shilmido was taken with relatively low casualties.

Phase Two, Part C: Lake Park, Ilsan Korea.

Lake Park - largest man-made lake in the Milky Way galaxy. Every day at 7:30 pm, there is a delightful water fountain whose movements are orchestrated to a variety of musical selections. This show was attended by the following all-star crew:

Pete Freeburg - A great man who shares my passion for the sacred African art of "clappin". (see note below)

Kelly Freeburg -Talented wife of the above great man who laments that her husband shares the aforementioned passion.

Reuben Haggar - A gallant man who shares my passion for the "Stanky Leg" dance, and who's perfection of this dance is widely anticipated.

(Note: "Clappin" is what I might refer to as "robust rump manipulation", whereby one attempts to attract a mate by vigorously shaking their gluteous maximus at an incredibly high velocity so as to produce the effect of both cheeks clapping together. Demonstrations may be given by the author upon request.)

Back to the story. The fountain show was sweet:

Put a stamp on it and send it home. Lake Park, can you say, "checkmate"?

Final Thoughts

This past weekend was one of the best weekends I have had in Korea. I've adopted the motto "Carpe Diem", which when translated literally, means "Go get' em, white boy". Or, something like that. I'm also becoming more and more excited about the future, as it all slowly sinks in. I'm determined to make May, my last month in Korea, the most memorable ever. The bucket list is ever expanding: bungee jumping, mountain hiking, spelunking, and other risky adventures.

Stay tuned for Volume VI, where I will open the forum to your questions.

Sleazy E, signing out!

(To be continued...)

The Korea Chronicles, Volume IV

On April 19th, 1775 in Concord, Massachussetts, the famous "shot heard 'round the world" sparked what would become the American Revolutionary War. What connection does this seemingly unrelated historical event have with the author's life in modern day South Korea?

Allow me to elucidate, dear blog reader(s).

On Monday, April 19th, 2010 in Seoul, Korea - 235 years after the aforementioned event - another monumental event occurred, only on a smaller, more miniscule scale. The author's immune system had hitherto been substantially weakened over the previous 13 days by a wretched illness; but, on this day, a remarkable turn of events occurred.

Millions of white blood cells were involuntarily generated by the author's body, which consequently overwhelmed the ragtag forces of the nefarious infirmity. Overrun, the illness made its last stand. This last stand was a grand culmination of white blood cells bombarding the last remnants of the infectious invaders, not unlike the Seige of Yorktown in which the American and French troops bombarded the last remnants of the British forces. As the "shot heard 'round the world" signified the beginning of the Revolutionary war, a similar noise signified the end of this war. This noise was fearsome, terrifying. What was this noise?

"The bowel movement heard 'round the world"

Or, at least, heard within a 50-foot radius of the Yongsan Army base building 2552 second floor restroom.

As I had not had a bowel movement in almost a week, this event was warmly welcomed. It signified a restoration of health, the peaceful resolution to a long brutal battle, or a treaty, similiar to the Treaty of Paris. As soon as this montrous movement of the bowels had found its way out of the labyrinth of my intestines, I rushed to the nearest telegraph and, with my last ounce of strength, sent the following message in morse code to my sister:

"--.. --.
-..-.. .-.. -.. - -... - ..-.. -. .--.. - -.--.. -. .-. -..- .-.- .-.
..---. --.. --.. -.. - -..- .. -..-..- .---.-..---..- ..--..-.. -..-.-.--..-
.-.- .-.--...- .-.--.-. -.-.-- .- -
.. -...- "

Which, when translated literally, means:

"sister,
good news. very large bowel movement. first in days. rectum stretched beyond limits. sphincter cried out in anguish. porcelain melted. multiple flushes occurred. tell family. your brother"

With this, I will speak no more of the wretched illness. It has passed. Victory is mine. Let us move on to some recent adventures, shall we?

First, let me say this. I have recently befriended many alumni of Bethel University, of St. Paul, Minnesota. As Nashville Tennessee is renowned for cranking out country music stars, Bethel University, as far as I can tell, is renowned for cranking out bonafide cool dudes. It's a proverbial "cool dude" machine.

My most recent adventures have taken place alongside none other than these inexplicably "cool dudes". Approximately two weeks ago, mad genius Reuben Haggar, new friend Holly Schoephoerster, and I took a bus ride up to Ilsan, Seoul to visit the Freeburgs, a married couple who both embody the aforementioned "coolness".

This was my first time visiting Ilsan, and it was sweet. It was mutually agreed upon that appetites should be satiated. The appetite satiating festivities culminated with Seoul's bravest man, Reuben Haggar, being dared to drink a mysterious bowl of clam juice. Reuben, undaunted, accepted. The clam juice was devoured. Nearby spectators were in awe of this man's reckless courage:

Continuing on. Korea is a land of many sacred national pastimes - math and starcraft being the most prominent. Next in line, I'd say, would be karaoke, which Koreans affectionately refer to as the "No-rae-bong".

The Noraebong cringes at the sight of white people coming. Reuben Haggar, a fellow white man rumored to have made a karaoke machine bleed once, and I had colloborated during the week and created a list of songs to sing. This song list, which included epic anthems such as "The Final Countdown", was executed to perfection.

I can't recall a single instance where we scored lower than a 100, but then again, I have a memory like a goldfish. In sum, this Noraebong was dominated, conquered, and ravished for hours until it begged for mercy. Word!

More adventures: The Freeburgs, two other new Bethel alumni friends, and myself took a trip to the Korean War Memorial. Despite having walked past this enormous musuem nearly every day for the last four years on my way to work, I have never been inside. That is, until now. We took the place by storm. Take a look:

A giant teardrop made entirely of thousands of dogtags from the Korean War.

The famous "turtle ships" that Admiral Yi Sun Shin used to defeat the Japanese during the Im-Jin war of the 1590's.


Pete and I, standing in front of the War Memorial, had no idea what do with our hands here.


Most recent adventure: Korean baseball game. In one word: super good. As Pete so eloquently put it, "It knocked my socks off".

I will admit: Korea, not suprisingly based on their other odd cultural customs, is home to some peculiar baseball traditions. Look very closely at the red circle. What do you see?

Yes, a man - a man whose flamboyant actions might compel one to believe that he leads an "alternative lifestyle" - leading the crowd in cheers. Not your expected "Take me out to the ballgame" cheers, either. We're talking cheers that are completely unrelated to baseball. I found the man slightly distracting and annoying. Let us speak no more of this man.

Another inexplicable oddity I found was the wearing of orange plastic bags on the head in support of the visiting team. Everybody wore these bags as if it were second nature. Who would've imagined a plastic bag could be so fun!

This picture doesn't do it justice - imagine a sea of orange.



I'll leave you with this rather provocative picture and these final thoughts:

Ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack.

(To be continued...)

The Korea Chronicles, Volume III

April.

It's that time of the year where nature finds itself in the midst of an epic clash, in betwixt two titans - winter and spring - pinned against one another like two sumo wrestlers. The vernal equinox has come and gone like the procession of a parade, with all its trumpets trumpeting, all its drummers drumming, and all its baton swingers swinging baton and stuff; all promising new life to spring forth in the not so distant future. This year, that promise remains to be fulfilled. Outside, the warm sun shines brightly while the cold wind blows harshly; old man spring chuckles and old man winter sneezes. The trees are hesitant to bloom for fear of a sudden freeze. The flowers are hesitant to unfold their beauty for the same reason. A few brave birds sing their songs, but no one listens, for everyone is inside hiding from nature's indecisiveness.


As this struggle for spring silently churns, the author finds himself silently churning within the intestines of a leviathan, in the belly of a whale. What is this leviathan's / whale's name?

Disease, aka "the fungus among us"

A peculiar name for such a beast, I know. And how long have you been wallowing in the depths of this leviathan's bowels / whale's belly?

10 days and counting.

During the last ten days, the author has been largely confined to his bed, lethargic, enervated, and gassier than what some might consider socially acceptable. During these last ten days,

A) hordes of area elementary students have had no tall lanky white man who talks to himself to snicker at as he passes by on his way to work,

B) microphones in the local Karaoke bars have had no one to caress them and sing them 80's power ballads such as "The Final Countdown" / "I Wanna Know What Love Is" / "Baby Got Back", and

C) old Korean ladies on the subways are getting agitated because the supply of white men in which they can shove and elbow in the rib cage has decreased by one.

Interesting. What other non-substantial events have taken place recently?

A litany of events lacking substance have transpired. Allow me to enumerate:

D) The author's washing machine has been on strike for over 3 weeks. Despite many one on one labor negotiations, said washing machine refuses to work on grounds of refusal to wash any more sweaty basketball clothes, calling it inhumane. So, as any manager with its work force on strike would do, I found an alternate work, cheaper force - my own two hands:


I've been washing clothes in the bathroom like this for 3 solid weeks. I'd like to say that it's getting easier. It's not. I miss the miracle of machine washing.

E) Wednesday. There I was taking a heavenly nap after a day of rowing in the galleys when suddenly I heard a rap upon my door. Opening the door to an unsolicited knock in Korea constitutes a huge risk. It could be one of those slick door-to-door oven ventilation filter saleswomen that, one time, convinced me to pay an inordinate amount of cash for a new filter. Naturally, I had my guard up this time.

Nothing to be worried about. It was merely a friendly real estate agent showing my house to potential tenants. Unfortunately, I did not have adequate time to prepare for this visit, and I found myself wearing the one thing I did not want to be caught dead in:



The notorious Kenny Chesney shirt - great for sleeping in, terrible for wearing in social situations. Every occasion the author has accidentally worn this shirt around other human beings, the author has regretted it. The conversation usually ends up with the author on the defensive end explaining how it was given to him by Kenny Chesney's limo driver, an offer he couldn't refuse. Fortunately, the potential tenants didn't seem to perceive this fashion tragedy.

F) Thursday. I awoke from another heavenly nap to find that someone had hacked my Gmail account and sent out over 75 spam Viagra messages to recipients ranging from friends, beloved family members, not-so-beloved old girlfriends, and graduate school admissions officers. I wonder what they think of me now?

G) Friday. I paid a visit to the hospital to replenish my supplies of prescription drugs (and with the ulterior hopes of getting a free enema) . A great success was achieved (with the drugs, not the enema), and with the power of these combined with my sister's mystical Tasmanian tiger urine - abracadabra! Watch out "fungus among us"!

Can I just make one sentimental, heartfelt statement here?

"Woe unto you, nation of peculiar odors! With all of heaven and earth as my witnesses, I hereby declare that Korea will pay dearly for what it has done to me. You have provoked the tempest; you have stirred the hornet's nest; you have incurred the wrath of a mad caucasian man and overturned a boiling pot upon yourself. Woe unto you, Korea!"

That is all.

The Korea Chronicles, Volume II

If you'll recall from the end of my last epic post, The Korea Chronicles Volume I, it was foreshadowed that impending doom might be approaching. It did. In the form of a nasty flu. As Hannibal and his armies crossed the alps and launched a surprise attack against Rome, this nasty flu completely took me by surprise. How long has the author of this blog been battling this infirmity, tooth and nail?

6 days and counting.

But, if the reader will recall their ancient history, the Roman legions (me) were victorious over Hannibal (nasty flu) in the end. Lesson? Victory doesn't come without sacrifice. Hundreds of fruits, of the citrus family, have been ravaged - heartlessly plucked from their trees and mercilessly squeezed until their carcasses were left a pulpy mess, only to be strewn about in a pile of lifeless peels. This juice then became the contents of my carton of Tropicana Citrus Blend, which I have been devouring like a fat kid devours a McDonald's happy meal.

Behold, many are the fruits that will be slain on my path to recovery!

Let's observe a brief moment of silence, shall we?



There.

As one can imagine, this illness, this malady, this ailment, has left me quite indisposed, unable to take part in many "cool" activities that one would imagine a cool guy like me normally being involved in. Instead, I was left alone in my home to A) contently wallow in my own filth B) scamper around on all fours trying to catch insects to add to my collection, and C) feverishly fling feces out the window onto unsuspecting pedestrians below. All of which is true minus the part about wallowing in my own filth. I hate getting dirty. Also, minus the part about catching insects. I hate bugs. And, also minus the part about feverishly flinging feces at people. I hate feces.

On 8:00 am Sunday, April 11th 2010, this nasty flu reached what I believe to be its zenith. I found myself in the local emergency room with the most annoying doctor in the world. His name? Jimmy Kim, whose name I refuse to place the prefix "Dr." in front of. Good ole' Jimmy Kim would saunter around in his medical garb, telling sick patients that they were feeling better, whether they were or not. Jimmy Kim came to my room and told me that I was feeling better. I wasn't, so I told him I wasn't. He was a man who refused to take no for an answer. He proceeded to tell me how I felt, which was simply regurgitating the symptoms I had described to him earlier, and would come back to his original question, "But besides the fever, nausea, dizziness, diarrhea - besides that, you're feeling fine, right?"

I didn't say anything.

After four hours of "care", the annoying "doctor" once again came to my room and told me I was feeling better, and would be releasing me to go home. I still felt the same. Not feeling like arguing, I acquiesced to this discharging. He smiled heartily and waved as I left the emergency room, shivering cold, starving, and still not feeling much better.

Compared to yesterday, though, I feel like a million bucks. My wise and noble sister, an exceptionally knowledgeable nurse-in-training, gave me a special diet to adhere to for a few days. This diet is called the "BRAT diet". I've always had trouble with acronyms. B, I think stands for "Baked Beans". R for "Rhubarb". A for "Apples". And, T, I think, stands for "Tasmanian Tiger urine". (She undoubtedly learned about the many benefits of tiger urine when she was in living among the Chinese people, who have long considered it a panacea.)

Let's see how it works out!

(More to follow...)

The Korea Chronicles, Volume I

Two months.

This is the amount of time remaining until I depart Korea, aka "Land of Fish and Other Smelly Things". Where to, you ask? Back from whence I came. Back to Tennessee, aka "Land of Milk, Honey, and Moonshine". And, how long have you been away from this paradisaical land, Mr. Johnson?

Nine years.

It's been a long and winding road. Nine years ago, I was the undisputed worst waiter in the history Cracker Barrel, was just kicked out of Middle Tennessee State University's symphonic orchestra for not knowing how to read music, and couldn't even grow a respectable mustache.

I decided to try my luck in the army. After 5 long years there, it was unanimous - my military career was the biggest waste of U.S. tax dollars in the history of our defense budget. Why? 1) I could barely shoot an inanimate target with a semi-automatic M-16 rifle (God help me if the target suddenly jumped to life and charged), 2) I abhorred typical army activities - camping, hiking, getting dirty, yucky bugs, etc. - and to top it off, 3) I was a Korean linguist with a speech impediment. Go figure. Perhaps, worse soldiers have served throughout the 235 years of our armed forces' history, but I was by far the most useless. What's funny is that my uselessness seemed to increase with every duty station I was sent to - Missouri, California, Texas, and finally the culmination of human incompetence - Hawaii.

Having discharged and finally graduated college, something, perhaps the same nefarious spirit that tried to tempt Jesus to jump from the mountain ledge, possessed me to think that Houston would be a great place to start a career in financial planning. Maybe be a great place to get mugged, stabbed, or robbed, but certainly not financial planning.

In an unexpected twist, however, I was suddenly uprooted from Houston and transplanted to where I've been for nearly four years - South Korea. Doing what? "Government Contracting". What does that term actually mean? I'd prefer to leave it shrouded in mystery so as to stimulate your imagination.

Given my track record thus far, one may be inclined to infer, with a rather high statistical probability, the outcome here as well. And, that inference may or may not be true. Let's just say that I stand here looking boldly into the distance atop my lofty mountain of failures (still without a respectable mustache), hoping that the laws of statistical probabilities will be merciful and let me slip through its far reaching clutches.

"So, Mr. Johnson, what do you look forward to the most when you think about returning from whence you came?", you may be wondering.
"What scares the wits out of you when you think about returning from whence you came?"
"Won't you miss South Korea?"
"Is there anything you won't miss about South Korea?"
"What are you wearing right now?", still you ponder.

All of these questions and undoubtedly many more, will be answered in subsequent posts. As I feel what may be the initial stages of a cold diffusing throughout my fatigued body, however, I must go... for the time being.

(To be continued...)

"Don't Cry for me, Cebu"

Cebu. Cebu? Please allow me a moment to recollect my thoughts.

(Initiating memory scan. Cebu data found. Uploading now.)

Ah. There we are. Cebu. Let's talk about it.

First of all, let's rewind the tape a little, shall we?

With any salaried job comes some degree of drudgery and mental degradation. For January and February of the year 2010, this was particularly true. Not only for me, but also for Luke Elie - a talented friend and walking database of sports trivia. One day, Luke and I were talking and our topic of conversation veered into how, for the lack of a better term, "crappy" 2010 had been so far. We both came to the conclusion that a vacation, preferably in a warm tropical climate to escape the stupidly cold Korean weather, was vital to our sanity. As a slave confined to rowing in the galleys may find himself absorbed in grandeur visions of freedom, I found myself absorbed with grandeur visions of being thousands of miles away snorkeling in clear water lagoons, reading books on beaches under coconut trees, and maybe even attempting to make conversation with relatively attractive members of the opposite sex without scaring them away. Maybe.

So far, so good.

All that was needed was a little planning - where, when, and with whom to go. Easy enough. Now let's fast forward the tape to March 19th, 2010.

Where to go? Not sure. When to go? Not sure. With whom to go with? Not sure.

If one thing is certain in life, it is that Luke and I both should not be in the vacation planning business. Actually, we both had vague ideas of what to do. Where? Maybe Thailand, Indonesia, or Philippines. When? Maybe sometime during spring break. With whom? We had invited a few people who shall remain anonymous, and despite these anonymous people having initially shown enthusiasm, these anonymous people did what every event planner dreads - betrayal at the last minute. (Thanks, Mark Nola) This left the vacation to just Luke and me. Sigh... (Thanks again, Mark Nola)

There is a travel agency located on the first floor on my building called Hana Tour. It was on this day, March 19th, that I walked into this office, was cordially greeted by the Korean lady at the desk, and, in the best Korean I could muster, asked what was available for the week of Spring break. She promptly recommended a 5-day package tour in Cebu, Philippines. I had no objections to Cebu, but told her that we preferred to remain autonomous, independent from any scheduled group tours. "No problem." she said. "Wonderful. Book it." I said.

Now, fast forward to March 30th - Day one of vacation.

Arrived in Cebu at 11:30 pm. Day one lasted a whole 30 minutes and consisted of going through customs, picking up luggage, and riding to our hotel. Strike one, Hana tour. Our hotel's immediate vicinity showed few signs of civilization. A foreboding omen, perhaps?

March 31st - Day two

Woke up to sound of roosters crowing and children playing. We were on the top floor of the hotel, so I stepped out on the balcony to take in some fresh air. This was my view:



The local villagers were drawing water from the well and using it to wash clothes and bathe themselves. My intuition from the previous night was, unfortunately, correct: Hana tour had placed us right in the middle of nowhere. Strike two, Hana tour.

The first rule of intergalactic space travel, as author Douglas Adams would say, is "Don't Panic". I think the same can be said for traveling in general. So, not panicking, I waved at the locals down below who cheerfully waved back.

Luke and I proceeded to "seize the day" and struck out on our own. The rather attractive front desk lady had suggested a few things to do the night before, one of which was going to see a resort named "Imperial Palace".

As God looked upon His creation and deemed it "good", Luke and I looked upon the "Imperial Palace" and did the same. We therefore spent the entire afternoon there.

This relaxing afternoon, consisting of reading on the beach, hittin' up the water park, and gorging ourselves at a fantastic lunch buffet, was followed by going to Cebu City later that night. We had heard the Filipinos shared our deep love for basketball, and we were determined "hoop it up" with them. We found a gym downtown fully occupied by Filipinos "hooping it up". But, in typical indecisive Erik Johnson fashion, it was decided, instead, to go eat at the Ayala Super-Mall across the street.

At the mall, Luke and I found an internet cafe and since Hana Tour had put us into "Bates Motel", we found a new one. Day two was polished off with an hour long massage. (Sorry, no picture.)

April 1st - Day three

The first half of day three was spent visiting other resorts -White Sands Resorts, Maribago Blue Water Resort.

After having lunch, we were feeling adventurous and decided to take a gamble using the "Filipino Tricycle" to return to our hotel.


And a gamble it was. As the reader can see, we could barely fit into these pernicious death traps.

As I mentioned before, Luke is a man of many talents. One of these is social networking. The night prior, he convinced the aforementioned front desk lady to take us around town and show us the sights. This front desk lady's name? Gretchen. Gretchen agreed, and we were to meet her outside our hotel after lunch. Gretchen was a fun tour guide and even helped us check into our new hotel. (We miss you, Gretchen)

Speaking of which, Luke's decision to change hotels was worthwhile. Check it out:

We polished off day three by getting another massage (Sorry, no picture).

April 2nd - Day four

Day four was the most, uhm, adventurous day by far. It can be summed up in the phrase "successive string of dismal failures." Why? Well, first of all, the Philippines is a predominantly Catholic nation. As such, the entire country was apparently closed down on Good Friday. Once again, this is where a little research and planning would have been useful. Every attempt to explore the wild frontier of Cebu was met with dismal failure. Despite this, we still managed to do some sight-seeing.

The Mactan Shrine:


Lapulapu Statue. Local hero famous for "defending against Spanish invaders". Actually, there were no invaders at all; it was merely Spanish explorer Magellan and his crew trying to be the first to circumnavigate the earth:


Luke may be a man of many talents, but photography is NOT one of them. Good job, "shaky hand Luke":

Cebu Metropolitan Cathedral, as everybody is released from Good Friday service:

Historical Cebu monument on Colon Street, the "oldest street in the Philippines":


The Philippine's public transportation system, aka "Jeepneys"- refurbished US military jeeps left over from World War II. Interesting...

Meet Renato "Rey" Dungog, area tricycle driver.


Dismally failing at exploration is, surprisingly, quite taxing on the body. It was mutually agreed upon that a siesta would be nice. Here I am executing those plans to perfection:


But alas! The day was not done. There was still time in the day to pursue the idea of playing basketball with the locals. Earlier, we had passed by what appeared to be a nice public court nearby our hotel, and we ventured to go there by foot. But as a mirage in the desert appears much closer than it really is, this court also appeared much closer than it really was. We probably walked 5 km in search of this mysterious court, only to have the sun set by the time we found it. Nonetheless, we had fun ingratiating ourselves into the kids' good graces.




April 3rd - Day five

Left Cebu at 12:30 am. Another 30 minute day of the package tour. What the flip is that? Strike three, Hana tour. Strike three..

Final thoughts

Cebu has its nice areas and its not so nice areas. Honestly, I was shocked to see the vast disparity between rich and poor. Kids who looked like they hadn't bathed in days were running around in the streets where one would think they would be in school learning. When they saw tourists, it's almost as if they're programmed so say, "Hello. Give me money.", and persist in following them around until the tourists give in, further perpetuating the cycle of poverty. Sad. While the beaches and resorts seemed exotic and luxurious, an overwhelming portion of the population resides in places like this:

Even Gretchen, our tour guide who seemed to be relatively well-off, told us that she had no running water, no microwave, and had to quit school due to it "costing too much money". Lesson: Be grateful for what you have.