Go on, sniff it. Smell familiar? Like perhaps...kimchi?

Liz mentioned to me the other day that aside from an obvious finger-sniffing addiction (if there is an orifice not yet discovered...oh watch out orifice...WATCH OUT!), that I may also have punctuation problems. I tearfully explained that since few read this anymore or ever have, that there was no harm done and would she please go make me a sandwich. As a former editor (not of Tiger Beat magazine, I asked already) she painstakingly took my last blog apart and edited my literarily sinful words, correcting when necessary and adding proper punctuation throughout. So you know what I did instead of appreciating her attempt at helping me improve myself?

Thats right! I watched Beverly Hills Cop! Good guess!
It's hard to believe Eddie Murphy was only 23 when he filmed this awesome, life-changing movie (I decided to wear hoodies and jeans for the rest of my life). Yet here I am at 28 and enjoy poorly pasting my face (here, covered with poo) onto old movie posters. Sigh! I wish more movies today used theme songs like films from the 80's did.

You see, when I don't do anything I get really bored and feel quite useless. Blogging, regardless of how few may read it must make a person feel a wee bit, validated? Almost like just the thought that someone cares about what you are doing, or what you say is enough to not feel 100% useless....maybe just 99% . With a blog you can visualize an audience and use the possibility of them for fuel (or food for thought?), where you can't do that with a diary. I suppose at its most basic, its wanting reassurance versus not wanting it. I don't know. I have 4 diaries but all are mostly empty (not mostly full), so what the hell does that say about me!? You know what, its not so much that I feel like I want someone to say "you're not useless Ken!" so much as I'd like a voice to justify my uselessness, "Ken! Look at yourself! Can you blame yourself for doing so little!? Gimme a hug!".

I'll be the first to admit I don't have anything of real 'importance' to say, at least not here. Forget subjectivity...ask me about the Sudan and I'll ask if its a sequel to something (some would call that comment 'wrong' others 'insightful') and don't bother looking for anything remotely philosophical, or at least 'good' philosophical stuff (for an example of 'bad' reread the last paragraph) as you're more likely to find a guy with no limbs applying cream to...I don't know where this is going. Geez, that analogy died faster than Princess- no - no, stop right there!

Anyways, wrapping my philosophy bit up: If Plato is mentioned anywhere here, its probably in regards to the fact that I ate some earlier this afternoon to test its no-toxicity theory (and as a child-safe suicidal cry for attention). Get it? Plato and play-doh? Oh, go to hell. It was funny in my head.

And thats all that matters! Hurrah!

Hey! If you'll recall, the last time I pasted my disembodied head anywhere on this blog was well over a year ago. Remember? Way back when? As in when I was nervously preparing to leave for Korea the first time, back in October, '06?

Coincidence? Yeah, and my fingers don't smell funny.

Yes, good ol' Liz and I are preparing a return to the ROK for one more round. I tried to do the minimum-wage thing here, okay well, I didn't exactly 'try' at all. But you see, after all the traveling was said and done, my bank account contained more moths than my fathers bedside condom-box; was emptier and less-used than his 'love-swing'. So what's a man/boy to do?
We're using the same recruiter we did last time but are considering working in a different city for more money and more perks (I get to touch the children legally!). Obviously I'm kidding...sure, the children can touch me all they want but I will be there strictly for: teaching the names of bizarre zoo animals (spotted pygmy llamaphant), offering tasty pizza toppings they may have never considered (cotton), and utilizing my ivory complexion when I err ("Look, I'm white so do I really need to know what an adverb is or can we just go sing in a noraebahng and live a little?").

It's also a much easier and more profitable way for Liz and I to be together for a full year so we can work side by side on a plan while there, which was something the both of us refused to concern ourselves with until the instant we touched down on North American soil this past March and quickly experienced the very visceral, all-too-real, punch-in-the-kimchi-filled-gut realization that working overseas doing ESL was much, much, easier than trying to make careers here and now. I bow to all the former ESL teachers who went and came back again but refused the allure to become 'lifers' or 'several yearers' and are continuing to 'truck it' regardless elsewhere. Now now, obviously many people have good legitimate reasons to do it year by year (any more than 5 though, c'mon) - they may have married over there, are paying off massive debt, are trying to perfect functional alcoholism, or just want to see the world and experience first-hand (a very brave thing to do) a very different culture.

Or maybe they were just like me, who after flipping their resumes over and over again, hands trembling, frantically searching for something substantial, anything - finally cried aloud weeks later, 'there must be more in here, there must be! I can't go back to minimum-wage! I'm worth more! I've seen it! More!!!'.

Thats when I decided that going overseas yet again, once more, was indeed okay - so long as there was a goal to be worked towards for the year.

And the time will rapidly arrive (in precisely one year) where I will need to hunker down and actually work hard...where I'll have no choice but to give way to the anxiety, and the fear, and the diarrhea from the food that I'm sure is poisoned by my mom so I'll leave her couch once and for all, and of course, the not-knowing but doing it anyways.

I'll be mailing everything off to my recruiter tomorrow and will most likely be overseas - again - within a month.

Thats enough for now, that reality show with the guy from Poison is on...I wonder if I could do that (win his love, not be in a rock band)

The Philippines.

This morning, whilst laying languidly (or languidly laying) on my mothers couch, dripping with sweat due to my ineptitude with the air conditioner hampered by my theatre-acting degree sans doctorate in air conditioners - and my own laziness which I attribute to being breast-fed well into my teens (one is offically a teenager at 18 in Canada correct?) I recalled procrastinatorally that I never wrote about my trip last December to the Philippines with Lizzle. Coincidentally, I have nothing to do with my time yet again (notice the building frequency of the blogs and the recent picture below) so I thought, 'heck, why enjoy a summers day happy and healthy OUTSIDE when I can sit and be gloomy and sweaty INSIDE?

My mom and I on a recent Saturday field trip to the laundromat. During my impromptu photo shoot to demonstrate my new $3 tripod I caught my mom anxiously reading the latest how-to from Tides Detergent Non-Fiction Publishing: "How to clean child fudge stains when no fudge has been eaten." Hint: Tide won't do it.

So, the Philippines.

Lizzy and I had been dating for a few months now, and after deciding to go on vacation together when we both had the time off we settled on an early December flight to Manila, Philippines. I knew nothing about the Philippines before we bought the tickets - only that Muhammad Ali once fought there and that it was near the equator. As I preferred lying in my own vomit to that of other travellers we opted to find a spot off the beaten track; a destination as of yet devoid of mass tourism, high prices, and 'sexy' massages...that place turned out to be El Nido- an increasingly popular tourist destination situated in the northern tip of the province of Palawan.

Having done my research by refusing to socialize with others on Friday evenings I contacted the one travel agent/coffee supplier/tourist outfit/breakfast place located in El Nido and arranged 2 seats on the 15-seater propeller plane that would get us from Manila to El Nido. The flights alone had now cost us over $1200 each (return from Busan to Manila, and return from Manila to El Nido). Expensive, but hey, I'm poor now!

A little fact- El Nido is the name of the small fishing town which is the primary jumping off point for the Bacuit Archipelago (unless you are one of the wealthy who can shell over big bucks to stay in one of the two exclusive resorts allowed to set up shop on one of the archipelagos islands). The archipelago has a ton of islands consisting of tall, jagged limestone cliffs poking up everywhere like the acne on my back and lagoons with water so clear and blue you'd think you were looking into my eyes. Many people compare it to Ha Long Bay in Vietnam and Phi Phi in Thailand, having never been to either I'll just have to take their words for it- even though they are most definitely wrong. The 50 or so islands have NO inhabitants other than howling monkeys that guard coconuts (more on that later), no electricity, white sands, etc. It is Lord of the Flies out there. El Nido town, only has electricity for a few hours in the evening - and forget flush toilets - its manual out there.

Directions: Keep pouring little blue cup filled with water from poo bucket over poo until poo goes away. Wait for a few minutes to ensure poo doesn't float back up as it is apt to do. Note: nearby plunger is for decoration and will only succeed in getting poo water on your bare feet.

As you know, I hate doing research on places I've been too as the facts rarely include information about me. For example, did you know that if I sleep on my back I often have nightmares?

So with our identical bags packed, my head shaved due to a recent Britney Spears-like breakdown, and tickets in hand we bid adieu to Busan for 10 days and boarded our flight to Manila. Naturally, we were on a chartered flight filled entirely with recently married Koreans so aside from matching honeymoon clothes (the theme was 'cherry' red by the looks of it), the odor of red-pepper paste (supplied by the thinking-ahead people at Philippine Air), and the silence broken only by the occasional Korean female screams whenever the plane hit tiny bumps of turbulence (followed by a quick 'if you make me lose face just ONCE more new wife...' from their sympathetic life partners) - we were on our way.

My nerves had increased alongside the temperature (freezing in Busan, Korea - hot and sticky as Satans breath in Manila) when we sauntered several hours later into the Manila International airport - it wasn't the Philippines landing card that I noticed had "Death to all Drug Traffickers" for all to see that freaked me out so much as I just didn't know what to expect or how to conduct myself in the first tropical place I'd ever been to (was I now permitted to order Liz to carry my stuff?).

Since our flight to El Nido was in the morning we opted to stay for one night in the 'luxurious' (definitely their words, not mine) Manila airport hotel. The flights to El Nido are very few and far between so we had to construct our vacation around their very tight schedule. The hotel tourist 'specialist' Danny was waiting for us that evening when we emerged into the sticky night air. Grasping my amazingly sweaty palm and slapping me on my clenched buttocks Danny grinned and asked us to wait in the airports scary, dingy taxi pickup spot as he went and got the minivan parked far enough away that he wouldn't be able to hear me scream (coincidence? or just poor timing?). Trying not to show my nervousness (clenched buttocks, wide eyes, and hives) and with increasing worry that we were both moments away from being kidnapped (or kennapped if you will), I quickly reverted to my acting training and began rehearsing quietly -just out of Liz' earshot- the only Filipino I had bothered to learn, "I don't know the white girl but please accept her as my gift".

Needless to say, we arrived 'safely' at the hotel which was as sketchy inside as it was out. With Danny still protecting us (me) we walked briskly through the hotels darkened parking lot (with me now suspecting that Danny had set us up somehow with nearby locals to rob us). The parking lot had no cars but was filled with homeless children mouthing to us with their hands that they were hungry (the KFC attached to the hotel was a cruel reminder of capitalism at its finest) and guys drinking warm beer (warm?!). We (well, I) ran into the store where a money exchange place acted like a light to moths for robberies in my little dangerous world. We exchanged our money into an obscenely large wad of pesos (I had now become the bright light, everyone else moths- including Liz) with this tired-looking woman sitting behind wooden bars in the corner of the store - a gun within easy reach. Money clutched tightly in my hand (my money belt safely tucked where the sun has yet to shine) we made it back to our hotel alive, thanks to Dannys courageousness and Liz' bravery. I cursed myself for being dumb enough for not having bothered learning the exchange rate - something I still do with an irritating consistency.

So having survived the money exchange and thinking very much like James Bond (a thing I tend to do when feeling inadequate and confused which also proved to be my bane in Thailand) I began generously rewarding my recently-acquired pesos to anyone in the hotel who had aided us in any way since our arival 20 minutes prior- from our tour guy/body guard Danny to the woman who plugged in the tiny empty hotel fridge to the bored guy who carried my bag. After I slapped a bill (again, not knowing the exchange rate) into his surprised palm (if a hand could be surprised) Liz said he walked away with a gigantic grin on his face. Without knowing, I probably had just given him a weeks salary. I made a mental note to add 'philanthropist' to my resume..I figured my ignorance had bought me that right.

Wouldn't you know? My bed had blood spots on it! (had one bed bug recently murdered another bed bug in cold blood?)...so I slept fully clothed in a self-contained burka I had designed out of t-shirts and dirty underwear (when in Rome).

The next morning the blood was still there, as my frightened tears aren't so much stain removers as they are pity-inducing. The hotel shuttle we had ordered never arrived so Lizzle and I jumped in a cab and managed to get to Manila Domestic Airport where we beat back the waiting sweaty crowds of locals, went through the manual metal detectors (bored airport employees patting you down like police) and after eating at the worlds most random 'Cinnabon' boarded our tiny plane that was unpressurized (the pilots had their windows open, arms dangling out) and smelled like the backseat of my families old Volkswagen Beetle (where I assume I was conceived along with my twin brother Dan).

At the back of the plane. Terrified to fly but excited to be on vacation. Yes Trish, I am wearing my red travel t-shirt that you've seen many times before.

The flight attendants weren't nervous as there wasn't room for them on the plane. One came aboard and gave us a quick evacuation procedure ("die quickly as drowning sucks") before wishing us well and handing out small chocolates (Liz ate hers before they locked the doors).

Man, am I long winded. I haven't even gotten to El Nido yet and already this particular blog entry is too long! Shoot. Well, onwards and upwards - the flight was scary but afforded some great pictures...

High atop Manila

The 2 hour ride revealed gorgeous islands that I will never be able to own, much less visit unless someone pays me lots of money to do what I do best- whine!
I would settle for any island around here - small or large - beggars can't be choosers.
So after landing briefly in Coron (another popular spot) to drop off some passengers not bound for the most beautiful place on earth - we shot off their little gravel runway, only to land on our dirt runway in El Nido about 1/2 hour later. The departures terminal consisted of a few hammocks and a lunch table. I was beyond excited.
Landing in El Nido.


Next stop: El Nido town!

Long time no blog eh?

As my friend Court so dutifully pointed out whilst camped out far below ground in his parents basement, my last posting on this dusty public notepad many months ago can only be compared to my facial hair - sparse and pathetic. Wasn't Star Trek an awesome show?
Where does one begin after such a long, eventful (and uneventful) year?

Okay, well to begin with - I'm home back in Canada...for now.

This was a picture taken the night before I left for Korea back in 2006 - funnily enough, my frightened face remains exactly the same whilst my mothers grip has gotten remarkably stronger.


So, even though I plan to write an individual blog for each country I visited and what I did in each (defeating Mt. Fuji for example LIZ) - as I no longer really write for anyone but me and my memories thank you very much (for my 'visitors' now remain strictly family, Court and occasionally perverts worldwide who Google "Korean" and "Virgins" in the same search and unexpectantly, to the detriment of their wieners, wind up staring me in the face.)

Not so much like David and Goliath but you get my point.

So as an intro. the countries I've been to since first leaving Dec.21/06 are as follows:

South Korea, North Korea (for a few seconds), Japan, China, the Philippines, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, the Netherlands, France, Italy, Austria, the Czech Republic, Poland, and Germany.


I'd only been in South Korea for a week or so and Kevin had me trying to hit on Korean Soju bottles. I didn't get her number, but I did get a taste of her! You see, in South Korea - they give out free booze right there on the streets!




A few months down the road I made my way up to the DMZ with my trusty sidekick Kevin - fun times were had by all, except for the South Korean DMZ soldiers who have to stand there all day staring into the unblinking North Korea!

Unification shumification I say!



After deciding not to go on vacation with me to Japan but insisting I still go with her friends, my co-worker Blake inadvertently (to my knowledge) set me up with this tasty little dish standing next to me at the Golden Temple in Kyoto. Smile Liz!



In early October with my other sidekick Courtenay 'Maurice' visiting me, I went on a massive tour group trip to Beijing. It was a fun time, but no more tour groups. Waste of money I says!




The Philippines. Favorite trip so far. Cheap food, away from anything and everyone (except a ladyboy who parades as a server in the little town of El Nido and a whole lot of monkeys). The Bacuit Archipelago is a mecca for people who want islands all to themselves, with NO power and NO people whatsoever.






We saw these beauties parading down the street in Koh Samui, Thailand. Party on ladies, but for everyone else go to the Philippines - Thailand kinda disappointed me.




I met this friendly baby elephant when Liz and I took a trip with Tiger Tours (a very ecofriendly, and thusly expensive) tour group out of Luang Prabang, Laos. The baby elephant hated our tour guide Lee who was in love with Liz, who I am in love with. So who loves the baby elephant? Everyone! (except Lee)




Cambodia. A hauntingly beautiful country with a horrific past that is all around you all the time- the genocide ended about a year before I was born. We spent a couple days in its capital Phnom Penh and the remainder of our Asia trip in Siem Reap - a tourist mecca.

Click on the picture, I am waving in a doorway at the very top. This particular temple was far steeper than the picture can show. Thats right, I'm heroic.






Amsterdam! We flew in, sleepwalked for a day - and came back for a day at the end of our European trip. I'd go back again if I had more time and way more money.





Paris. Thanks to a canceled Ryanair flight (read more in the coming Paris blog) we spent about 6 days in the 'most romantic city on earth'. Expensive as hell, but great nonetheless.









Italy! We spent about 2 weeks here and visited Cinque Terre, Florence, Rome, Venice, and Modena. Cinque Terre might be the most beautiful place I've ever been.





Here I am eating Schnitzel in Vienna. I had a heart attack soon after this picture was taken. I didn't come close to finishing the schnitzel, but the beer went down oh so smooth. Like a Viennese' babies ass, but fizzier.









Czech Republic. Here I am in this gorgeous Eastern European country moments away from drinking the most vile alcohol (aside from soju) known to man: absinthe. The server dispensed with the whole absinthe with sugar ritual and just gave it to me straight up. Attempted murder I says! We visited Prague and a sweet little town called Cesky Krumlov.








The Polish concentration camp Birkenau (also known as Auschwitz 2). I also went to Auschwitz itself. We spent about a week in Krakow visiting Liz' friend Adam who teaches ESL there. Great place (Krakow, not the concentration camps)









Berlin! Here we are on one of our last days standing in front of a 1.3 km stretch of the Berlin Wall. Berlin was gorgeous...even if my facial hair was not.





Not a bad year for a guy scared to challenge his own shadow to a fight.

If you'll recall my last blog, it saw me surrendering my newly discovered manhood to a manish Korean monster whom I dubbed Samnu. I worked at a well known Korean hagwon for some extra cash at the end of my original contract, and would not have made it more than a month- for Samnu was evil and I pity all who have worked, and still work for this patronizing, dull, ugly demon-like Korean lady.

But once the money got into my hot little hands I ran as fast as my skinny legs would take me, fueled by the indescribable glee one feels when having had their cake and eaten it too (long story). I was finished with Samnu (but one testicle less), my furniture had been sold, and I was a week away from leaving the land of Korea for good in search of warmer, and more inviting climates, namely: Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia.

It was a stressful last week for Liz as well, as she had to work right up until the day we left for our 6-week adventure. Being a lazy couple that would prefer to drink coffee while rehashing old arguments rather than plan an itinerary, we only knew that we'd be flying into Bangkok and needed to end up there 6 weeks later. When the occasional (and rightful) doubt of 'wait-a-sec, should we plan at least a little bit?' entered my alcohol-laden, bankrupting dreamland factory employed with angry sullen workers of a brain- Liz would just smile, roll her big ol' blue eyes up to the sky and say 'whatevs!'. Assuming she was simply being bohemian and not a lazy poopstick as I would later realize I too opted to be adventurous, declaring aloud for no one in particular that I too would take it day by day - a way of life I sought to live by upon leaving Canada...but never fully realized for my year and a bit in Korea.

A minor snag occurred when the ever-busy-Lizzy confessed to me one morning as I busily cleaned her bathroom (knowing that I was busy working on my Liz doll she graciously allowed me to collect any clumps of hair I found) that her passport didn't have enough spare pages for her to get into Thailand with. Hiking up my dress, and gently applying some aloe to my whipped back I offered to take an overnight train into Seoul...because thats what heroes do. I was greatly saddened upon learning that cold evening that every seat was booked and I'd have to stand between train cars with other freezing Koreans (it was February) for 7 hours as the train slowly crept through the cabbage-producing farmlands of Korea. I arrived in Seoul before the subway opened at 5am and witnessed, through the protective glass of a McDonalds, a bumfight!

You see, in Seoul train station dozens of the cities homeless are allowed to sleep on the benches inside, provided they don't cause trouble (ie- peeing on each other or in nearby garbage cans). Well apparently one crazy homeless guy didn't see the 'Bumb Rules' on the wall as he began tweeting this little plastic whistle I can only assume was his 'rape' whistle (he probably suddenly realized that cold morning that the whistle would never be used for its original intent). So to everyones annoyance, and his delight, he blew it as loud as he could while marching around like a 3rd Reich solider for several amusing and non-violent minutes...until another irate homeless guy began pushing him to shut him up (or rape him). Before myself and the many other sleepy Koreans sandwiched up against the McDonalds window could clap along, the crazy whistle-bum suddenly grabbed the irate bum by the neck and flipped him to the ground, quickly straddling his neck with his calloused bum-knees, effectively locking him in place. He blew the whistle a few more times (it was still in his mouth you see) before he violently grabbed the now-not-so-irate bums neck and began to choke him while slamming his head hard against the ground, like it was a dirty pinata filled with more whistles (and perhaps a few tiny airline bottles of soju).

I was about 50 feet away, munching away on my sausage and egg mcmuffin, and I could hear his skull cracking against the stations floor. Thankfully, a few other nearby homeless came to the now unconscious mans rescue by pulling the whistling murderous bum off of him before his brain fully turned to mush. As the bum with the whistle walked off tweeting triumphantly, and the irate man lay unconscious (he sat up about 5 minutes later) the show was over. I paid for another coffee and made my way to a nearby squatter potty for a post-fight diarrhea caused by nerves, excitement, no sleep, and too much caffeine (I imagine its how Batman finishes his day as well).

Bums were washing themselves in the sinks, shaving, and combing what hair they had left so I knew that another day in Seoul had begun. Strangely enough it was the same night the famous Namdaemun gate in Seoul was burnt to the ground by an old-man arsonist angry with the government. Anywhoo, back to my squatter story- with quads as weak as a New Orleans dyke I spent no longer than necessary on the squatter potty and made my way to the US embassy, which was an arduous process that involved me standing outside in the freezing cold for an hour, falling asleep in the waiting room, and getting back to Busan in the evening clutching Liz' passport (now heavier with 10 newly stitched-in papers). I assumed it would be my last visit to Seoul.

That may not be true anymore.


Next stop: uh....Thailand? Or maybe Japan - I dunno - whichever country I haven't written about yet.