Borneo: Transition Day

We are going to look back at our time in Malaysian Borneo as an adventure trip. During our too brief, one week excursion, we had the opportunity to explore three of Earth's most diverse habitats- oceans, mountains and caves. I understand that this isn't exactly a major feat in and of itself. I am sure there are places all over the Oregon coast where you can visit, the Pacific, the Cascade range and caves all in a day, and each are probably spectacular in their own way. But where we chose to vacation the clear ocean was densely populated with marine life, the mountain featured the most spectacular view in Southeast Asia, and the caves were some of the biggest and most famous in the world.

I didn't go searching for adventure. Truth be told, I would love to spend the majority of my holiday lounging by the pool with a good book much in the same way I whittled away the hours in Fiji. Sami, however, got some wild hair about climbing Mt. Kinabalu, the highest peak in Southeast Asia. I reluctantly agreed not knowing that I would be admonished for even cracking open my paperback companion. (Note: This is a lie. I actually finished up David McCullough's biography of Harry S. Truman and read "The Sleeping Father"- a random airport find by Matthew Sharpe).

The one day where we were afforded a modicum of relaxation was Monday, the 20th. We had flown in Saturday night, the 18th and spent all of the next day out snorkeling off the coast of an island not far from our base of Kota Kinabalu. On Monday our schedule was free until the late afternoon when a van would pick us up from the hotel and drive us to the jump-off point of Mt. Kinabalu.  For the day, we decided to check out the beach to the south of town for most of the day, have lunch and maybe even a beer.

I woke up before 6:00 a.m. and turned on the laptop wirelessly connected to the internet to check out the scores of the NFL games presently taking place half a world away. I did not plan on rising so early, but since I moved to Asia over a year ago I have developed a separate internal alarm clock. This device only operates during the football season and seldom lets me down.

Can't nobody keep me away!

After an hour and a half of highlights, scores and stats, I ventured out of the room to pick up breakfast. Our modest accommodations provided coffee and toast, but I wanted something a little more substantial on this gloriously laid-back morning. I walked outside and next door to a Chinese-Malaysian restaurant and ordered two steamed buns that reminded me of the happy fare we had consumed on a rainy Shanghai morning not too long ago. The sticky, Wonderbread-like bun was filled with pork, a piece of boiled egg and sweet onions engulfed in a peppery gelatinous liquid. It reminded me of french onion soup which I love.

Doesn't look too appetizing but it's good!

Outside the wife and I had one of those arguments that tend to arise every time we find ourselves in a foreign country without a plan. As much as I romanticize freely trekking an unfamiliar land, I do admit that they can lead to stressful circumstances- especially with an empty stomach and low blood sugar. Our bellies were full on this occasion so maybe it was the strong Malaysian coffee (puts weak Korean kuh-pee water to shame) that sparked our tempers.

The problem was that we could not find a taxi and we felt like idiots walking around the same block time and time again getting stared at by locals pretending not to stare. I stepped into one taxi only to be informed by frantic hand gestures that it was being saved for someone else.

Finally we corraled a ride and by 10:30 found ourselves at the deserted beach south of town. The only other inhabitants were the employees of scattered bars and cafes preparing for opening. As they wiped down tables and dragged metal chairs along the concrete patio, Sami and I took turns surveying the sky for incoming planes and parasailers.

While Sami stayed and read, I walked across the parking lot to a public park. As I passed I took mental note of three men setting up a durian stand. I tried durian for the first time earlier in the year in Cambodia. At the time I wasn't able to decide if I enjoyed the "king of the fruits" or not, and thought that I may give it a second shot. Since Sami is the holder of the money I pressed on.

Durian stand

The baking hot pathway of the park meandered over a cloudy brown and lilly pad carpeted pond. I lazily walked along and peered into the murk. Schools of quick goldfish darted about. I soaked in the scene. The quiet, the bright blue sky and tall palms were so different from my everyday Korean life. The morning sun was hot, at least 90 degrees or whatever that is in degrees centigrade. I stood in the shade of a gazebo and spotted a small, orange streaked turtle swimming amongst the leaves. I reached for the camera and, noticing it was gone, sprinted back toward Sami. When I told her I saw a turtle and needed to take a picture she hardly seemed moved. Still, I convinced her that the park was worth trading for a few minutes with the last of the Steig Larsson novels. She placed the bookmark and dutifully followed.

The park

The pond.

The turtle.

Back at the pond the turtle was naturally gone. Sami beckoned. She was hungry, but I was determined to reunite with my amphibious friend. Amazingly, it made another appearance. I snapped picture after picture of the little guy as he hungrily swam closer. Sami grew impatient and took the camera away thinking that I would follow. She walked ahead a few yards as I stumbled behind. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a giant rock that didn't quite look like a rock. I looked at the rock and the rock slid into the water. Holy shit it was a giant turtle! I silently squealed and motioned for Sami to bring me the camera but it was gone, lost in the green and the brown of the constructed pond. I spent the next 15 to 20 minutes waiting for the turtle to re-emerge, but my efforts only resulted in an increasingly perturbed wife. After giving up my last scrap of hope, I jogged to her and toward the restaurant.

We sat in the empty restaurant overlooking the sea. I ordered a caiparina even though I wanted a chocolate milkshake because I like the sound of the word caiparina, Sami ordered a chocolate milkshake and didn't share. For lunch I had Nasi Lemak which I have read is the national dish of Malaysia. It featured beef, salted and dried anchovies, chicken and potatoes, cucumber, roasted peanuts, coconut rice and a boiled egg. It cost the equivalent of $1.50 USD.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

Nasi Lemak

After, while Sami was distracted, I wandered back toward the durian stand. I purchased one small fruit for 2 ringet, or the equivalent of about 66 cents- downright cheap compared to the outrageous price I paid the first time in Cambodia (in my mind I am thinking it was $15, but that can't be right). I sat down and ate it. I had always said that you need to eat durian on an empty stomach and yet here I was, sucking it down while full of at four different proteins. I will never forget that taste of warm, cream corn and onion custard. I think I like it even more now and can't wait to get more.

Afterward, our plan was to catch a taxi back to the hotel in time to rest for an hour or two before the van came to pick us up for Mt. Kinabalu. The problem, once again, was that we couldn't find a taxi. We waited and waited outside a roped off area labeled "TAXI," but none came. Eventually, someone pointed us in the right direction up the road. Three quarters of a mile later we found ourselves across the intersection from the airport when a ride finally yielded. We happily got inside and unburdened our backpacks from us. Our driver was a thin man with a tiny mustache and funny voice. The nails on his pinkie fingers were ridiculously long. I decided I liked him and took pictures of the quirky trinkets on the dashboard- a plastic frog on a swing, a Japanese cartoon toy with a maniacal grin and a meditating Hindu god.

These trinkets nearly caused a tragedy!

Our driver didn't speak much English. He handed me a cell phone and had me talk to his supervisor who spoke even less. Somehow I was able to communicate that our hotel was near the "Asian City" part of downtown and he drove us through crowded back alleys to a lot near our hotel. As I got out the driver asked for 25 ringet. I told him that it had only cost me 15 ringet to get from the hotel to the beach but, remembering his English, he explained that since it was near the airport it was airport rates. By this time Sami had exited the taxi and I was left aggravated and willing to settle for 20 ringet. I walked across the lot and one way street to the median and met my wife. I expressed my frustration with having to haggle and then a stinging realization pierced inside of my chest.

"Do you have the camera?" I asked.

"No."

"I left it in the cab."

For a millisecond I chastised myself for being so careless and then, out of sheer adrenaline, I began running. The camera was lost, this I already knew. I was only going to get a slight workout sprinting and dodging through traffic the way I was. In a place so densely populated with cars, there was no way I would find it. I ran in and around parked and idled vehicles and at the end of the parking lot, waiting for an opening in traffic, I saw the taxi. I looked in and recognized a hint of a mustache, a sliver of a fingernail. There the weaselly little bastard was. I knocked twice on the rear passenger side door quickly and confidently, opened it and grabbed the camera. I smiled and gave a wink while he cackled and gave me the thumbs up.

I turned and walked back to Sami. For the first time all trip, I could sense that she was proud of me. She was happy that we would be able to document our time hiking the biggest mountain and largest caves of Southeast Asia. I was just happy to have saved the pictures of the turtle.

Field Day

Today was Field Day at my school. Since we have been back from Summer Vacation, an average of one class per day has been canceled due to Field Day practice.

I wrote about Field Day in a previous post back in May, but this is the bigger of the two events. Next week is Chuseok, akin to Korean Thanksgiving, and the students are eager for their week-long holiday. Field Day is a perfect release for their excitement. Here are a few highlights:

Not everyone loves Field Day. This student is faking a stomach illness.

I know this kid, and he doesn't strike me as one who would want to sit out of an athletic event. However, he is kind of a punk in class, so maybe this is a form of punishment. Anyway, he looks content to just play with caterpillars.

Here is one of the caterpillars up close.

A pop of streamers highlights the pre-event festivities.

As well as the pre-requisite (and environmentally unfriendly) releasing of the balloons.

After the national anthem, the new science teacher (and only other male teacher besides me) leads the group in some warm-up stretches. The stretches are set to music and are performed very quickly. I am not sure how everyone (that is my principal with outstretched arms) knew what to do. They must have been practicing while I have been secluded in my classroom blogging. Anyway, the stretches are hilarious and if I can get it to work, I will post some videos.

Only about a thousand more kids than the elementary school I attended...

In between races, an event company staged games for each grade. This is a tug of war game where the grade is split into two teams. When the cap gun goes off, the students run to the rope and pull.

Chaos ensues.

In addition to the games, each grade has been practicing a choreographed dance. The 5th graders used flags in theirs.

For this game, a set of mom's ran the rope underneath the jumping students and then back over the top. They had to race a team that is not pictured.

It seemed like every student's mom (and some dads) were there lined up along the side of the playground. Many brought their cameras and stationed themselves so close to the performers that it took away from the overall effect of unity.

For this relay game with one of the younger grades (maybe 1st or 2nd), the moms held onto a sheet which the student ran down over the top of, and back underneath.

Vendors were there capitalizing on the event. An ice-cream cone was 1000 wan which right now is about 85 cents.

My favorite event of the day. The parents raced to win a spectacular prize of a box of kleenex. Second place was a tube of toothpaste. Wouldn't you rather come in second? Anyway, on three separate occasions a runner tripped and face planted. Here is one such occasion.

The fifth graders blew up balloons and stuffed them into a long plastic condom bag. Then they formed a line and had to hit the bag filled with balloons to the students at the at the end of the line (not as easy as it looks). The end students then grab the condom bag and run it to the front. The team that gets there first wins.

One grade dressed in Hanbok- traditional Korean garb. You couldn't even see them perform because there were more parents than students crouching down in front of their son or daughter and snapping photos.

The 3rd graders incorporated umbrellas into their dance.

In this game, a group of parents and administrators competed by kicking this peanut looking thing filled with air down around a cone and back. The peanut was really difficult to control. One guy figured out how to just roll the thing by using the top of his foot. The guy in the picture is my principal who is already limber and ready to go after some intense stretching earlier.

Not sure why the boys have to wear the bare-midrift tops...

The 4th grade incorporated colored hoops into their dance. It's strange- everyone in Korean is an expert hula-hooper. I see them doing it in the gym all the time. I think that I can only do one or maybe two revelations, just long enough for gravity to do its thing.

For this relay, the students each had a basket. One at a time, they run and attempt to build a pyramid.

The red team barely won.

The day culminated in a huge relay race.

The problem with the race is that the track has an abrupt edge at the corners. Kids always end up slowing down by taking short choppy steps, or way too wide of a turn. Also, on more than one occasion a parent got in the way and totally wiped out a runner. Baton exchanges are also always a nightmare and inevitably lead to the trailing team catching up. When the race is over, the anchor from the losing team always cries. They forget about it though after their mom buys them an 85 cent ice-cream cone.

 

Japche

What do you prefer rice or noodles? I always thought that I like noodles more, but if I had to eat one every day, it would be rice. But noodles are pretty good too.

Tonight I made a very traditional Korean noodle dish called japche. Japche, songpyun (a holiday dessert of sweetly stuffed sticky and soft rice cake) and bulgogi (directly translated as "fire meat") were the first three foods I learned about in Korea. I found out about them while preparing for my first 5th grade lesson titled "Do You Want Some More?"

Do you like bulgogi?

-Yes, I do. I like bulgogi.

Do you want some more?

-No, thanks. I'm full.  

Try and find a way to stretch that into 40 minutes and that should give you an idea of what my job is like.

Anyway, to make japche you should posses the following:

vermicelli noodles
vegetables such as:
a carrot (traditional)
an onion (traditional)
shiitake mushrooms (I used a different kind of mushroom pictured below)
spinach (I didn't use spinach because apparently it is expensive this time of year)
bell pepper(not traditional, but I've seen it)
green onion (if you want)
garlic (ditto)
ground beef (not much, this is supposed to be a noodle/vegetable dish. In fact, I didn't use any meat tonight)
soy sauce
sesame oil
sesame seeds

These are the mushrooms I used instead of shiitakes. They are cheaper and they are the kind my school uses all the time in japche. I am not sure what they are called, but you see them everywhere around here. I think I may have even read them referred to as 'Korean mushrooms.'

To cook japche follow these steps"

Step one: Throw a good handful of vermicelli noodles into boiling water. I didn't throw enough in there at first so when the first batch was finished, I added another. I blame it on our one ridiculously small soup pot. Living frugally does have its drawbacks.

Step two: While waiting for your water to boil, thinly slice all of your veg (I used one onion, one carrot and maybe the equivalent of for shiitakes) except the spinach, then fry it in a all with a little bit of oil (I used canola). Throw the ground beef in there too if you are doing that. Add a little bit of soy sauce and sesame oil. I don't know maybe a tablespoon of soy sauce and a half a tablespoon of sesame oil. Don't overdo it. When the carrot slices have wilted, remove all veg from heat.

Step three: Remove the noodles, but save the water. I just threw them into the frying pan with the veg, heat turned off.

Step four: If you are using spinach, drop it in the boiling water used for the noodles. When it wilts, quickly throw it into a bowl of ice water.

Step five: Season the noodles and veg with a little more soy sauce and sesame oil to taste. Add green onion and chopped garlic if you want. I definitely recommend a sprinkling of sesame seeds.

Step six: Back to that pesky spinach. See why I didn't use it? Remove it from the cold water, wring it dry, season with a tiny pit of sesame oil and soy sauce. Add it to the noodles and veg. I like to turn the heat back on the pan for a minute or so and make sure that all of the flavors really combine. Don't burn the garlic though ok. Oh, and I guess some people add a little sugar in there too, but I didn't and didn't notice anything different.

That's it. Pretty easy right? And darn tasty. Funny thing is that japche is actually on the menu tomorrow at school. I guess I will get a chance to see how mine stacks up.

Baseball and Rainy Days

A week from now Sami and I will be on the island of Borneo attempting to summit Mt. Kinabalu, the highest peak in Southeast Asia. We are less worried about the arduous nature of the trek (three days to get to the top and back down) and more concerned with the potential for inclement weather. In preparation for potential precipitation, we have recently purchased waterproof hiking pants, backpack covers, gloves and ponchos to go along with stiff new hiking boots.

Actually, we should be quite accustomed to the rain by now. It has rained steadily every day since we have been back from our visit in the states, and seemingly, every day before that. The week before last, a typhoon spiraled over Korea and woke us up at four in the morning, first with a soft mist through the screen window and later with the violent whistle of 80 mile per hour winds which blew shingles off of 20 story high rise apartment buildings.

The typhoon was said to have been tame in our inland suburb of Seoul. I walked to school and saw that only the youngest of shallow planted trees lining the parking lot had toppled onto car hoods. School was only delayed for one hour.

Despite subsequent threats, new typhoons have not appeared, but the intermittent drumming of rain persists. Unlike Oregon, it seldom rains for an extended period of time. Today, when we ventured out to purchase hiking apparel, a steady mist blew in sideways, but this is the exception to the rule of short bursts of torrential dumping and cracking thunder.

2:00 p.m. The view from outside of our apartment during what was supposed to be another typhoon.

And here is the view two hours later at 4:00 p.m.

Yesterday, despite a 100 percent chance of thunderstorms, we braved it out to a baseball game between the Doosan Bears and the Lotte Giants. The event was organized by the recruitment agency that brought us out to Korea- Global Campus. We haven't done anything with them since Sami injured her arm in a boating accident a year ago. Despite being absent from the last couple of Global Campus events (we have no hard feelings from the incident, we were just busy during the other events) we have kept in touch with people we've met through them, and it was great to see them at the game.

In the Korean Baseball Organization, there are only eight teams. Each team is named after its corporate sponsor- Doosan and Lotte are major companies but the Bears are one of two Seoul teams and the Giants are from Busan. There are also the LG Twins, Samsung Lions, SK Wyverns, Kia TIgers, Nexen Heroes and the Hanhwah Eagles. The team with the best record automatically makes it to the Championship Series. The 3rd and 4th place teams play a series (I think maybe only 3 games, but I'd have to look it up) and then the winner plays the 2nd place team to see who goes to the Championship Series.

The best part about Korean baseball games is that you can bring your own alcohol into the game (I mixed 2 bottles of soju in a water bottle with some juice but you can buy it there for a little bit more). Outside the stadium, vendors sell your typical stadium fare, ttak (sweet rice cake) and dried peanut butter squid.

Vendors outside the stadium. Much more informal and less corporate than you would see at an MLB game where they have control of every detail.

The tickets are very inexpensive, maybe the equivalent of seven or eight bucks, and the stadium (at least in Seoul) is rarely more than half full. However, the people in the stands make noise for the whole game and even treat it more like a college basketball chants with organized chants and songs. The fans bang thundersticks throughout the game and each team even has its own troupe of skinny cheerleaders in short shorts.

Cheerleaders

We had a great time even though our Doosan Bears lost 12-10. There was a ton of hitting and I even got to eat a Whopper (yes they have Burger King and KFC there if you aren't into dried squid). Afterward, drunk on sojuice, I slept on the subway ride home and dreamed about standing on top of Mt. Kinabalu, looking out over a sunny and rainless paradise.

American Schools vs. Korean Schools- A view from Mitch Albom

The Out of Doors: Hot Springs

I was raised in the dry and desolate Treasure Valley, which hugs the Snake River, in the area where that twisted waterway forms Oregon's easternmost nipple. At first glance the land appears to have little to offer outside of farming. Scattered small towns exist under the scented clouds of local food processing plants- onions and potatoes from Dickinson Frozen Foods in Payette and Heinz in Ontario, sugar beets from the Amalgamated Sugar plant in Nyssa, and hot chicken shit which fertilizes mushrooms and perfumes the morning air in Vale.

The population of towns on the western side of the Snake haven't budged in decades. Land use laws and property taxes have played a part in my hometown's demise, but the absence of a sales tax in Oregon keeps the consumers rolling in to Wal-Mart and Home Depot during daylight hours. The towns out there dot the map like moles on a newborn baby's back. Too small and scattered to concern yourself with.

The endless expanses between towns don't offer much at first glimpse either. Commonly, commuters driving eastward from the coast comment on how the beauty of Oregon stops just past Bend. This is precisely the way local residents prefer they think. True eastern Oregonians understand that the sparsely populated, forgotten land is an outdoorsman's paradise.

Canadian honkers rest just off the side of the highway. Flocks of hundreds hunkered down for a short break from their thousand mile journey. Off in the distance white chested pronghorn blend in with livestock amongst the jade colored sagebrush desert. Elk and mule deer roam the same juniper laced hills as fleet footed quail and chuckar partridges. Gray-brown ground squirrels and coyotes are difficult to spot against the dusty habitat, and yet so are mallard ducks and rooster pheasants, despite their flamboyant plumage.

I would like to consider myself an outdoorsman, but in good faith, I cannot. "Nature Lover" would be a more accurate label, but even this self-realization came later in life than it should have, given the circumstances of my upbringing.

My dad is and always has been an avid hunter and fisherman. His dad, my grandfather, is the same way. Given their druthers, these men would spend the bulk of their days out of doors scaring up ducks or casting for crappie.

Of course, they brought my brother and me along with them on numerous excursions, but I never really had the passion for it. I was involved in sports in high school, so that took away my Saturdays, but on Sundays I was more content to skip the cold hikes in favor of NFL on TV and a warm Hot Pocket (little has changed in 15 or so years, just add beer to that equation). Plus, I was a terrible shot and the fish seemed to stop biting when I was around.

In college, my dorm was filled with young men from large cities: Phoenix, Los Angeles, San Francisco. The fraternity I joined was ninety percent Portlander. I became the resident redneck. I was expected to tell tales of my life as a yokel on the farm and, having none, I made them up. For the first time, I felt how big the world was (and I hadn't even traveled outside of the country yet!) and how insignificant me and my hometown were.

Luckily, I was hired on as a seasonal wildland firefighter for the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) in Malheur County during the summer after my Freshman year at U of O. My love and appreciation for the outdoors came from that experience.

Some of my best memories from my time with the BLM were when we weren't on a fire. We fished for trout in the deep Owyhee River canyon just outside of tiny Rome, hunted for jack rabbits with spotlights, and even trekked to desolate natural hot springs- one in Juntura that was easy to find, one somewhere around Burns Junction that we didn't find, and one off the side of the road that we wish we hadn't found. Snively is the natural hot springs I refer to in the latter. It is a popular spot on the way to Owyhee Reservoir, well marked and easy to find. The problem was that we drove up at the same time as the springs was being occupied by a few naked hippies- which might not have been so bad if they weren't actual hippies from the 1960s.

I had Snively in mind when Sami suggested we visit a hot springs during our vacation in McCall, Idaho.  The two of us, along with my brother Steve and his fiancee Maryanne drove north to New Meadows and Zim's Hotsprings.

 

Inside had on old-fashioned pool hall feel. Maybe I am just saying that because there is a pool table.

We were proud of ourselves for finding the turnoff and wondered how a place could stay in business in such a remote area. Inside the place had an air of old western saloon/arcade. The country art, carved and painted plaques of cowboy wisdom and decades-old vending machines inside charmed me. This smoky, single floor space with its low ceilings, was something completely unlike what I had experienced during the past year in Korea.

I mean, even the bench area outside, the rustic wood columns, skull and antlers on the wall. Classic Americana.

Outside there were two large pools. This confused me immensely as I had naively assumed that all hot springs were set out in the country amongst the rocks.

The water was brought in from a natural source. There were two pools and-this being the middle of the week- a few simple, local families. The big pool (the colder one at 93 degrees) had a basketball hoop on the shallow end. I asked Steve to throw me a few alley-oops, but couldn't jump high enough out of the water for anything other than a Shaquille O'Neal two handed throwdown.

A little dirty and beaten up. The pool doesn't look so hot either. Hiyo!

There is that hoop I dunked on.

If I hadn't come from a year overseas, I might say that it was too far out of the way, too dirty and too expensive ($7 a person). However, my traveling experiences have taught me to look at everything with new eyes and soak it in. We soaked it in until our feet were wrinkled and I loved it.

A few days later, we went to Gold Fork Hot Springs near Donnely with Sami's family. This hot springs is very well taken care of- the woman at the desk even inspected our sunscreen to ensure it didn't contain any disallowed oils.

Gold Fork Hot Springs

I don't think the parents liked me taking pictures of their half naked kids. Sorry! Gotta blog!

Sami's family

 There were six square pools carved into the side of a granite hill. As you descend each pool's temperature falls. Gold Fork is a truly tremendous facility and, as evidenced by the litany of high-income families present, quite popular. I absolutely recommend it if you are ever in McCall. However, as time passes, I find myself thinking more of Zim's, its hidden charms and uniquely American ambiance.

Much like the countryside I grew up around, sometimes you have to look a little closer into a place to discover its beauty.