Disaster Strikes!

No sooner than I arrive back in Thailand than 88 die in a Phuket plane crash on landing. Yowch. Watch out for those budget airlines.

Speaking of budget airlines, I'll be taking one to Phnom Penh in the next week or so. I've secured a teaching job there through mid-december. The pay is good, the hours not too long, and I'll be able to move forward with my film projects while I'm there.

I have to say though, the heat here is not that easy to get used to. I've come to understand why the Thais and Cambodians are so chilled out - It's too damn hot to be perky all the time. I feel like time moves at about half speed as back home, and that still seems a tad too fast. I'm sure I'll adapt, but I wish it would happen sooner.

And then there's the import/export business I'm hoping to start up. I've met heaps of people on holiday in Thailand who fund their travels buying suits, knock-off goods, etc etc. More on that later.

By the way, the blog really is back this time :)

Music Review: Radio Phnom Penh

Sublime Frequencies, a Seattle-based record label specializing in radio and field recording collages from around the globe, has kindly saved you the trouble and pain of digging through the mines of mediocre Khmer Pop and ripped-off Tata Young melodies and delivered some of the catchiest, melt-in-you-ear sweet Khmer sounds ever to grace the streets of Phnom Penh (or your living room).

Being back home in the sane lands of the eternal toothless-winter (it's August, so why am I sleeping with a down comforter?) has left me with plenty of time to get re-acquainted with my old friend music, and RPP is topping the playlist. When the quiet predictability of Olympia underwhelms my stimulant-starved, metropolis-acclimated mind, I only need strap on my sennheiser teleportation device to be whisked away to that mystic land steeped in war, history, and re-birth.

Farewell, Japan

As a neat little wrap-up to my time in Japan I set out with my friend David to ascend mighty Fujisan. Our climb began at around 10 PM, with the aim to reach the summit by sunrise at around 4 AM. Armed with torches, winter clothes for the brutal conditions at the top, and a few rice balls each, we began our climb.

The ascent is divided into 10 stations, with the 1st being the base and the 10th the summit. The bus from Tokyo plunked us out at the 5th station, and after a few minutes of meandering about we found an expert-looking climber who seemed to know where to go. We followed.


We reached the 6th station in record time and had a short break before powering on to the next.

By the time we reached the 7th station is was becoming apparent that this wasn't going to be a stroll in the park. The path was steep and dark, but our flashlights were true, and David's could even be powered by a hand crank. There would be no failure for us this night.

Here we are at the 7th Station.


Between the 8th station and the summit, conversation drops to a minimum and a kind of mountaineer's comradely kicks in. The air becomes thin, and breaks become short and frequent. We were making record time and were set to be at the summit around 2, so we slowed our pace in an effort not to be stuck on the chilly peak waiting for the sun to rise.

For climbers who bought a Fuji walking stick, a man burns a station stamp onto the side.


We reached the summit at around 3, leaving an hour to shiver and huddle anywhere we could find out of reach of the biting winds before the sun rose. There were salty men serving up slop ramen in a summit shack, so we indulged, more for the steamy broth than the food itself.


The view at the top was breathtaking. Otherworldly. Stunning. An hour trotting around the rocks of that lifeless environment was enough. We set out, with pride in our hearts, for the return journey.

for more photos, check the flickr page

Sushi

This is too funny for me to keep to myself.

Rainy Sunday

Here are a couple of clips from a stroll through one of Tokyo's entertainment districts, Kabukicho, last weekend: