After flying for about 10 hours, I finally arrive on the other side of the world in Tokyo. Already the culture shock is creeping in, as I’m waded through a see of people waiting to pass yet another security point. Apparently, the Japanese (actually, Asians in general) don’t believe in lines.

The smell is also something that is very distinct. Not only because you’re in a different country, but the people just have very distinguishable odors. The smell while waiting in line with a large group of Japanese, is drastically different than the smell I sensed while waiting for my connecting flight to Manila surrounded by other Filipinos. It makes me wonder if Americans have an aroma. If so, does it smell like cheeseburgers and hope?

My mom told me to look for a guy named Tino who would be holding a sign with my name on it. When I saw him after getting off the plane, it was a bit surreal. I’ve never had anyone hold a sign with my name on it, let alone someone who could easily be one of my many cousins. He passed me on to another guy who took my papers, and we quickly made our way around the huge masses surrounding the customs agents straight to the “Special Assistance” area. With his help, we got through customs faster than you can say “mabuhay”.

After getting my luggage, we went outside and that’s when the culture shock hit me like a speeding jeepney. The humidity, the smog, the crowds of people, the sea of balikbayan boxes… it was all so foreign, yet so familiar. I was relieved to see my mom. My cousin Joey brought the car around, and we headed to the house.

And I feel pretty damned good about it. On January 1st, yours truly finally landed himself a girlfriend, and what a girlfriend! Her name is Maggie, and she’s absolutely amazing and gorgeous. Two days later, I started my new job at elephants & ants. At the cost of a bit less pay, I got a shortened commute (15 minute walk > 1 hour bus ride), a downtown workplace, and a wider variety of work. It’s my 4th day at the job, and while there haven’t been any fun projects to write home about just yet, it has been very nice to be part of a smaller and more closely knit group.

Another sign of a good start for 2008 has been the presidential primaries. My man Barack Obama won the Iowa caucuses, and is currently leading the polls in New Hampshire. Both victories have been a huge upset for the other candidates, but it’s still way too early to get comfortable. Whatever happens, it seems like 2008 will be a make-or-break year for us here in the states. Hope for the former, prepare for the latter.

What can I say about my trip to these two wonderful cities that can’t be said with a little bit of vomit? I mean that in a good way, because I was having such a good time that I had to blow chunks just to convince myself to come back to Paris.

Amsterdam: Left Centraal Station and looked for the nearest coffeeshop. Bought some local goods and made my way to Vondelpark. While awaiting Ryan, I was approached by a strange inebriated but nice enough man. Next night, met up with some TR42 members and proceeded to tear up the city. Purchased cases of beer and went to a nearby park to consume said beers. Urinated multiple times in public, which is quite common. Moved to a nearby bar and had a few rounds. Bought pre-packaged goodies and proceeded to a different park (there’s many of them in Amsterdam). Pretty damn drunk by now, the goodies were lit and passed around. At one point, both were handed to me, and I did not refuse them. In come the sweats and hot flashes, out goes my lunch. After recovery, döner kebab sandwiches were bought and sucked down. Searched for another bar exhaustedly. No luck. Went to Centraal Station and parted ways. Good times.

Köln: Much more relaxed, but still quite fun. Lots of sleep. Lots of beer. More sleep. More beer. Discussed music, film, and current events. Visited local record shops and comic book stores. Washed down tapas with some sangria. Good times.

Last night, my neighbor, Caroline, invited me to a dinner with her friends. Since the dinner was taking place just outside my door, there really wasn’t a way she couldn’t invite me. Score!

Since August is when most Parisians take their vacation, most of them had just returned, and along with two birthdays, there was great cause for celebration. Caroline herself had just returned from singing Tahiti and Los Angeles, Dorothy spent 4 weeks tanning in Vietnam and Camille practiced her Spanish in Mexico. Caroline returned with a lot of souvenirs from Tahiti, one of which was a delicious recipe for a pasta dish with shrimp, pineapple, and coconut milk. Afterwards we had “joyeaux anniversaire” cake and Vietnamese candy courtesy of Dorothy.

Among the group there was a graphic design student, philosophy student, jazz musician, business consultant, international law student, and the equivalent of a well-paid international social worker. At first, they were all kind enough to speak English with me, but after the 3rd bottle of wine was poured, the kindness was replaced with a laidback familiarity that can only be found from young, well-relaxed, well-vacationed, French people.

My legs are aching, my back is sore and I have a pretty noticeable farmer’s tan. However, it was sooooo worth it. Rock en Seine, in case you didn’t read the previous post (shame on you), is an annual 3-day music festival, similar to Bumbershoot but sans all the cheesy hippie arts and crafts booths. I finally got to see Björk, and it was pretty spectacular! It would’ve been even better if the guy in front of me didn’t keep whipping my face with his dreadlock ponytail. Eh, c’est la vie. Here are my highlights:

Arcade Fire
They had a full-sized pipe organ on stage! With 13 members, I can only imagine the size of their tour bus. Maybe a tour dirigible? One of the girls, the lead singer’s wife I think, was all over the stage playing every instrument she could get her hands on, from drums, to pipe organ, to accordion, to this strange stringed instrument with a rotating lever.

The Hives
To be honest, their flavor of rock/punk rock gets old pretty quickly for me. However, their stage presence is fucking gold. The lead singer, Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist, is hee-larious with great quips like, “alright you French people, we are the Hives… c’est fantastique!” And the rhythm guitarist has this crazy way of strumming that made me wonder if he was even playing or not. Pure entertainment.

Mark Ronson
I’ve only heard his second album in one of those listening stations inside music stores, but after seeing him live, with a full band, I’m going back today to cop that shit. What’s better on a summer day than a great horns section and funky bass guitar licks? Answer: using those to cover a Smiths songs, that’s what.

Kings of Leon
I honestly don’t think I really knew what Rock n’ Roll was until I saw these guys live yesterday for the first time. The lead singer, Caleb Followill, said his voice was a little sore, but that didn’t stop him from giving it everything he had. Maybe the shot of Jameson whiskey he drank, after toasting it to the crowd, helped him along. His brother on lead guitar had a cigarette lit almost the entire show and either kept it in his mouth or on the end of his guitar. The drummer was drinking a can of Heineken with a bendy-straw, and the bassist completely pandering to the camera. Before and after their performance, there were sporadic girlish screams coming from backstage. This band is fucking stellar.

I know it’s been a while since I last posted, but that’s because I’ve been busy doing things to post about. That’s my excuse anyway.

Since I last logged into this blog, I’ve been to many shows, met various people, and endured much rain (gorgeous Paris summers my ass!) I have even more planned in the near future. Tomorrow begins Rock en Seine, a 3 day music festival with a tremendously great lineup. The people I mainly want to see is Björk (I’ve missed the last three opportunities to see her), Arcade Fire, Dizzee Rascal, M.I.A., Kings of Leon, and the Shins. It will be difficult seeing them all, but I’m gonna try anyway. A few days after that, I will be visiting friends in Amsterdam and Cologne. I’ll let y’all know how it all goes down.

I finally got my phone hooked up, so if any of you European folks care to call me, my number is 06 42 22 60 71.

About a month ago, before I left Seattle, I got a phone call from JetBlue telling me that my flight from Las Vegas to New York City was rescheduled from 1:10 a.m. to 9:10 p.m. on the same night. No biggie, right?

Well, today, I tell my mom that my flight was rescheduled, and that she would have to bring me to the airport a few hours earlier. She did, we had some coffee and talked before I headed to the gate. On my way to the gate, I checked the schedule of my flight and discovered that it has been delayed until 11:35 p.m. This isn’t a big deal, because I have plenty to keep me occupied. However, a few minutes later, they announce that my flight has been delayed even more… to midnight! Again, not really a big deal, but why the hell would you advance the departure time when you’re just going to be late anyways. It’s like “indian scheduling”.

Update: I’m at the airport right now, and I just overheard that due to a power outage earlier in the day, all flights at McCarran Airport have been delayed. Sux0rz.

Sure it’s been 115 degrees since I arrived. In fact, I avoid leaving the house if the sun is still up. However, that hasn’t stopped me from having a blast. I mean, as that old colloquial saying goes, “the freaks come out at night.” I have to say, it was a little tough adjusting to the lack of a last call and smoking ban, but I somehow managed.

On Friday night, I met with friends in Vegas’ current cool spot in downtown called the Beauty Bar. It’s where all the local hipsters go for shits and gigggles. Next to it is the Griffin, the bar where we pre-funked. I was really happy to see such places exist, especially in the Downtown area. This is exactly what Las Vegas needs: a return to classiness. With a new resort being built almost every year, it’s getting really annoying keeping track of the Sin City’s hot spots. With the Arts District/Downtown revival, it feels like Vegas is conjuring the times of the 50s and 60s, when the Rat Pack ruled the city, and it was all about class and sophistication… well, at least as classy and sophisticated as one can be in Las Vegas.