Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day to all you lovely, strong, full of love and life mothers out there. I especially want to wish those new moms a very happy 1st Mother's Day - you deserve it for what you just went through. Haha.

Ever since 2000, Mother's Day has been a bit of a sore spot for me. Having lost my mom at 16, I really didn't feel like being very happy on a weekend that most other people were going out for brunches. Thirteen years later, the negative feelings has not completely disappeared, but I do have another person to celebrate on this special day. Having had the time this year to get to know my stepmother, May,  better, I realize I'm incredibly lucky to have another strong female role model in my life.

Thanks to Disney, stepmothers get a very bad rap - generations of kids were raised on the fact that stepmothers marry your dad and go on to destroy your life. I'll be honest, I didn't warm up to my stepmother all that quickly. I only learned of her around my 18th birthday when I started talking to my dad again after a two year self-initiated silent treatment.

My dad, never the one to be great at emotional parenting, thought it would be good to break the ice by telling me he had remarried and that I should say hello to my new mom. Let me give you a piece of advice if in case you ever encounter a situation like this in the future - if you just started talking to your son again after two years of not talking, and he just lost his mom two years before that, you might want to ease into the topic of your remarriage rather than "SAY HI TO YOUR NEW MOM."

I'll admit, I didn't recover from that for a while. And on my first trip back to Taiwan when I was 21, my discomfort with the whole remarriage situation certainly showed. I was terribly immature about the entire situation, and for a person in their early twenties, I had the emotional quotient of a seven year old who didn't get the toy he wanted on his birthday. Needless to say, my stepmom and I didn't really bond at all except for exchanging a few superficial pleasantries.

During my twenties, I had three other opportunities to go back to Taipei, and each time, we did bond more and more. But I was still hesitant, if not hostile, not really knowing whether to direct my anger of the situation at her or my dad, she still received some attitude and cut eye (and for those of you that know me, I throw some incredibly nasty shade when I want to). But just like my dad, my stepmother was incredibly patient, even when she didn't need to be, and still made the effort to bond and get to know me.

I found out a lot about my stepmother this year that surprised and impressed me. She was a Chief Auditor at one of the biggest banks in Taiwan, she oversaw dozens of branches and hundreds of employees. She had worked there for 25 years, gradually climbing the corporate ladder, because she was smart and she had incredible interpersonal skills (which my dad could learn a thing or two from). She and her family grew up with modest surroundings having lost her dad at a young age, she and her four other siblings took care of each other as they either immigrated abroad for education and work - she having taken her MBA in the US.

What impresses me most about my stepmom is her devotion to family. To her own family, she has been incredibly supportive in taking care of her mother. Her mother, my step-grandmother, is a very bubbly and energetic octogenarian, but often loses her memory from time to time. May shows the same patience she had with me and my brother's terrible attitudes, as she often accompanies her during the weekdays and entertains her frequently, and repeatedly asked questions. She is also quite devoted to my dad, even though there are times, I'm not even sure why she's with him. My dad, like so many other men, is quite devoid of reading his wife's anger towards him, which causes some very silly fights between the two.

Since living in Taipei, May and I have bonded over our love of drinking (there are times, she can outdrink me), gossip (she has been my informant on quite a few hilarious Jou family secrets) and being able to talk about life in general. Conversations with her are easier now as we've found more and more to talk about, and to an extent, I'm sure there is some jealousy on my dad's part that I confide more in May then I do him. To be fair, having a heart to heart with my dad can be more painful than extensive dental surgery. I swear, Kristen Stewart has more emotional expression in her face than he does sometimes when I try to have a discussion with him.

Okay, enough dad bashing. I am lucky that I now have another person to celebrate on Mother's Day. Someone who I am happy to introduce to my friends whenever they visit to Taipei, someone who I now email and communicate with voluntarily and someone who I can share stories and laughs over several bottles of wine.

Happy Mother's Day May. Thank you for everything.

Tibet - One Year Later...

During all of my recent job interviews, the topic of my travels has 99% of the time led off every conversation. When I tell people the places I've been, the one that most people ask about is Tibet. It is still hard for me to fathom that I traveled to this remote region of the world a year ago today. 

I had the opportunity to go because of my Dad. After he had heard that I quit my job so I can go traveling, he thought it would be a good bonding experience to take me to Tibet and also experience some other parts of Mainland China. 

Our journey started in Western China, in the dusty city of Shining. Like most of the China that I experienced, it was a city of extremes: 

- a large populous, but many abandoned buildings due to over construction, 

- a diverse ethnic mix, but visible factions between ethic Chinese and the Central Asian minority groups that first populated the region,

- and modernization but with issues with social traditionalism and the treatment of women as second class citizens. 

Shining stuck out as a collection of metal surrounded by incredible geological wonders and nature's most stunning backdrops.  It was here that we experienced the way the Chinese countryside functions - having been stuck in a traffic jam for almost 4 hours and watching the locals force their way around the jam on the one stretch of road leading back to the city.

The trek to Lhasa was also one of breathtaking scenery mixed in with a total kick to my comfort zone's gut. Crammed into a coffin-style bunk (stacked three bunks high with two columns per room) the 24 hour trek up several thousand meters of elevation caused dizziness, shortness of breath and a total lack of any personal space. The best challenge was the struggle to use a squat toilet on a fast moving train where the previous users have been less than careful with their aim. One experience with that, I told my gastrointestinal system that we were going on a full shutdown mode to avoid another traumatic experience with the loo.

Stepping off the train and onto the platform at Lhasa, the blast of fresh air was like no air I've ever breathed in before. Clean. Crisp. Wonderful. Not realizing that I've been breathing at twice my normal speed because of the lack of oxygen, the walk to the tour bus felt like a brutal 5k run uphill.  

Over the next two days, I would spend time during the day wandering alongside the town folk of Lhasa, visiting some of the holiest sites in Buddhist culture and observing some of the strict military presence used to remind the Tibetan people, that someone else owns you. But the Tibetan people, mindful that they are not fully free, have very little cares in the world and are among the most happy and friendly people I've met on my year abroad. A mix of not knowing what else there is beyond their borders and a simple style of life, they greeted you with a familiarity that is hard to explain. In the market of the Johkang Temple, stalls would be bookended by military police posts, there to guard against any protesters ready to immolate themselves and cause embarrassment to the Chinese government.  But the shopkeepers go about their day, as if the guards didn't exist, perfecting their craft, peddling their art, bargaining with passersby interested in taking home a piece of the local culture.

The next seven days were ones that tested my physical endurance and my comfort zones to an extreme. We stayed in not so great accommodations, some without warm water or heat, some looked like the place you saw in the movie Hostel, and all with very little entertainment in and around the area. During the day, we would spend hours in a 4x4 trekking to the highest peaks and then down to flat desert all in an eight hour period. The high point (literally and figuratively) was being at base camp Everest and seeing this monstrous tip of rock sticking out of the ground and being left breathless at the sight of it (and the fact that there was little to no air). The lowest of lows was when one of the cars in our convoy of vehicles hit a small child who ran into the middle of the road. We don't know what ever happened to him - his aunt scooped him up, and ran off to their hut. The image of his wailing mother, collapsed at the doorstep of their home still gives me chills today.

We ended the trip in Shanghai - completely the opposite of what we experienced in the previous 12 days - a city that went from squalor to splendor in 25 years. Shanghai was where my other half of my family was from before the Civil War torn millions of Chinese families apart. Walking down the same streets my grandparents walked down when they were children, I wondered how they would have reacted to the changes and how emotional it might have been if they had experienced that.

My two week trip in China with my Dad was the start to repairing years of a strained relationship. It is always hard to travel with family members and at the time, I kept seeing my Dad as the same guy he's always been - this annoyance that just would not let me be an adult. I was short, I was brash, I was rude on various occasions during our time together and I'd constantly kick myself for being such a child. This was a gift that I was able to experience this trip of a lifetime, and I was a complete dick in the way I was showing my gratitude. But my Dad continued to be the patient man he always is, and looked past my behaviour while looking for nothing else but a closer relationship in return.

Tibet forced me to learn a lot about how I was living my life in Toronto.  How selfish I was, how I had misplaced many priorities which chasing after others that really are not all that important, and how I had been using my "independence" as an excuse for building proper relationships with my family, with friends and with partners. Tibet kicked off a year of self-discovery and reflection that I doubt any other destination I have been to this year would have been able to force out of me. The remote area, the spiritual presence, the lack of a busy lifestyle all made me sit and think, and think, and think...nothing else but that.

I thank my Dad for the chance to see the world's most amazing views, I thank the Tibetan people for their hospitality and I thank whatever's watching over me for keeping me safe and for guiding me through a once in a lifetime adventure.

What a difference a year can make.

Goodbye 2012, you've been awesome.

Happy new year's everyone!  I'm sad to see 2012 go because it has been such a great year for me.  It was a year for taking a break and doing some soul searching.  In fact, I feel I've done more personal development in the last 10 months than I have since graduating university.  My eyes have been open to new experiences, awesome destinations and evaluating my strengths and weaknesses.

It was this time last year that I made this life changing decision.  Stepping away from my career and taking some "me" time was an out of the box move for me.  In writing that resignation letter, I experienced such a mix of raw emotions.  Looking back on it now, all of those emotions had been repressed for a long time and had just begun to bubble up to the surface.  In putting my career ahead of everything else in life, I was becoming a very unhappy individual.

When I boarded the plane in early March, I was still not used to the idea that I was leaving a very comfortable life for the uncertainty of new experiences that were ready to challenge everything that I had learned in my 28 years on the planet.  Being thrown into uncomfortable circumstances really makes you ask yourself the tough questions and come up with answers you might not like.  These truths were a shock to my system but it was a wake up call that only helped me to progress and improve.  Here are some of the things I learned:

It is okay that I let myself be emotionally exposed.

Everyone has baggage.  From failed friendships, bad relationships, the loss of loved ones and betrayal by people you've trusted - baggage comes in all shapes and sizes.  My solution has always been to repress those experiences or ignore the issue.  For example, there have been countless times I've just alienated a person that I have had a fight with as opposed to being direct with my feelings and showing how hurt or upset I am with their actions.  As much as I thought it was an emotionally mature way of dealing with things and by keeping up appearances, it was the most immature thing anyone can do to resolve (or not resolve) conflict.  Other moments have challenged me as well and it has led to a lot of tears, both good and bad.  The last time I cried this many times in a year was when my mom passed away back in 2000, but it felt good to let it all out.  Keeping it all bottled up inside was making me into such a miserable person, I was barely able to look at myself in the mirror.

I can be a know-it-all but that I have so much left to learn.

This is something I've struggled with all my life.  The combination of being stubborn, a lot of education and an A-type personality has amounted to an ego with a terrible "I'm Right, You're Wrong" mentality.  In traveling to new places (ten new countries, with three more in 2013!) has really helped me understand that I should shut up once in a while and listen to what other people have to teach me.  

That with traveling, everything works out if you just don't stress about it.

I've always thought I was a decent traveler but it turns out I can be a bit of a stress case (especially when traveling with certain personalities).  In any case, a big area of discovery comes from letting small things go and allowing yourself to just play with the cards that you're dealt when traveling.  If you miss a flight, there's always a next one.  If you lose something, it can always be replaced.  You'll lose more out of the experience if you latch onto the material things you're missing out on rather than living in the moment.

I learned that I am extremely proud of my cultural background and cannot wait to share it with others.

Having left Taiwan when I was just four years old, I didn't have much of a chance to absorb what it meant to come from this background.  I shunned my Taiwanese side after my parents' divorce because of my then dislike for my father.  In the last five years, I have come to really appreciate this tiny island off of the coast of China and that there is a whole side of my heritage that I have to be proud of.  I've embraced my mother tongue this year and have made great strides in relearning Mandarin.  Although I'm still at a 6th grader's level of comprehension, I'm impressed at how much I've learned in four months.  I fell in love with the food as evidenced by my 10 pound weight gain and a softer belly than when I left Toronto (it does not disappear no matter how hard I work out).  I find myself fascinated with the history that is Taiwan, not only from my fathers' ancestry (Chinese from Fujian province) but from my mothers' side (Nationalists from the Mainland that retreated to the island back in 1949).  In fact, I find myself being a better Canadian for embracing my Taiwanese background because it allows me to share with others this vibrant culture and incorporate it into the mosaic that is Canada.  

I learned that my family means more to me than I've let them or others know.

In living with them for about five of the last ten months, I've come to love being a part of a family again.  I chose to close myself off from family after my parents' divorce and my mom's passing and quickly forgot what a great feeling it is to have people who truly love you around you 24/7.  

As much as I love making fun of my dad, I find his emails to bring a smile to my face each time I read them.  The one above was sent to me the day after I came out to both him and my mom - it was an email that I sat reading for almost an hour even though it is six simple lines of text.  It has taken me a while for me to share this aspect of my life with them and almost two weeks of sleepless nights to craft the right thing to say in person.  Finally, after three bottles of beer, I finally worked up the courage and blurted out what I've been holding in for a very long time and all before the clock hit my 29th birthday.  Their reaction was nothing short of extraordinary.  Having worked up so many different scenarios in my overly active imagination, ranging from the bad to a complete and off the handle rejection, I was astounded by how easy it was for them to look past my sexual orientation and say that they love me no matter what.  It was a good hour and so of talking, of crying, and of repeating some of the same things over and over again, but I felt more loved and an enormous weight lifted off my shoulders.  As much as Taiwan is a liberal society, there's still a lot for my parents to learn on the issue.  But I am so very lucky to have parents who are willing to learn with me as I grow more comfortable in my own skin.

So that's it for my reflections on a wonderful year.  I want to thank all of you for being on this journey with me.  I want thank my friends from back home who've shown me so much support in my decision to get out there and travel.  I want to thank the friends I've traveled with this year for sharing in the laughter, talking through the difficult conversations, and drinking our worries away.  I want to thank my new friends that I've met this year for allowing me to get to know you and to share our stories.  And I especially want to thank my family for taking me in and making me feel completely okay about being a 29 year old unemployed man living at home with his parents for a year.  

My wish for all of you is that you make 2013 a year in which you have an AHA! moment about your life's direction and I look forward to reading your retrospective at the end of next year!

Cheers!

The Jous go to Tokyo

It has been too long since I've properly sat down and put in the time to do some blogging.  Part laziness and part distraction (Mandarin school was getting quite intense with the workload) attributed to what was a two month hiatus of typing my little heart out.  Time to catch up on some of the things I've been up to in the last couple of months.

For anyone who have been on my Facebook page have seen at least a post or two about my Grandma Jou.  In her mid-70s, she is the matriarch of my Dad's side of the family.  She was born in Taiwan when the island was under Japanese occupation, and was one of the few thousands of children lucky enough to get an education all the way through to high school.  Having been educated by the Japanese, she is fluent in the language, which allowed her to work as a tour guide for Japanese visitors in the 50's and 60's.  She is a woman who is fiercely independent, something I greatly admire, and when she's got an opinion on something, well, she lets you know it.  (I guess that's where I get it from.)

What's most impressive is that she raised five kids in a time when Taiwan was one of the poorest countries in the world.  Under military rule and still mostly an agrarian nation, there was little income for any family to work with.  She and my grandfather were able to send all of their kids to school and see to it that they all received university degrees.  Furthermore, they all were sent to Japan to receive Masters degrees and today, my Dad's siblings are all pretty successful - two work in business, two are doctors and one is a pharmacist.

The Family Jou in Ginza.

Recently, my grandmother has been diagnosed with lung cancer - her third time battling this disease.  Unfortunately, the prognosis doesn't look great this go around, but she has a positive outlook on the situation.  Her optimism comes from her deeply rooted belief in a branch of Buddhism called Nichiren Shoshu, something she acquired in her youth when the Japanese influence on Taiwan was still very strong.  This school of Buddhism comes from Japan from the teachings of a 13th Century Buddhist monk named Nichiren.  It's main temple is found at the base of Mount Fuji in Japan, and my grandmother was determined that her entire family was to go on a pilgrimage with her to say a prayer at the Mecca of her religion.  Of course, everyone obliged.

It is a shame we didn't get a chance to do more things in Tokyo due to our limited amount of time, but we did spend an entire day in the Ginza district, another epicentre of sorts for those who adopt shopping as a religion.  Since my grandmother has to use a wheelchair, it took us most of the day to get from one end of Ginza to another.  The street is the 5th Avenue of Tokyo, lined with shops after shops of luxury brands and department stores that rival that of Harrod's and Saks.  I could barely afford anything on this street, but I wasn't doing any window shopping - I was mostly people watching.  This is where the best dressed residents of Tokyo come and parade their fashion sense for visitors to see.  Tokyoites are much like their Parisian counterparts, due to their overwhelming appreciation for food, fashion and culture.  At one point, we were even treated to a conga line of classic cars, driven by men clearly going through midlife crises with passengers being either their daughters or second wives (cough...mistresses).   Ginza was buzzing - and to think that there's a recession still going on here.

The vintage car parade.

I have to give my grandma props - she went a whole day almost 10 hours of sitting in her wheelchair and shopping while I was about to drop from exhaustion at around three in the afternoon.  Even after this amount of shopping, she was still up to having a family party in her hotel suite - the eight of us feasted on food and wine bought at the fancy department store earlier that day.  In Japan, the premium department stores all have food stalls in the basement selling incredible looking (and tasting food).  I basically ate with my eyes walking through the various displays.

I want to go to there.

With no rest for the wicked, we headed out for the temple the next day at about 7am in the morning.  It was a three hour drive to get there, and I'm pretty sure all of us, except for my grandmother, were slightly hungover.  We get to the Nichiren temple two hours late due to the horrendous Tokyo traffic.  Like most of my traveling companions know, whenever I'm in a moving vehicle, I behave like I've just been roofied - so I was mostly passed out the entire way to the temple.

To say that the temple is nothing short of impressive is an understatement.  With Mount Fuji serving as a backdrop, three large gates lead up to the main temple - which is about the size of a football stadium.  Once inside, you are led through hundreds of pews to your seat facing a gold plated wall.  Upon the ringing of the ceremonial bell, hundreds of monks stream through the doors on either side of the altar and the panels of the gold plated wall start to fold back to reveal the most elaborate altar I've ever seen.  Standing three stories tall, there are two smaller altars that need to be manually opened by a monk before the formal prayers could begin.

The Nichiren Temple.  Incredibly big.

If this didn't impress, then the full hour of simultaneous chanting was something to experience.  Everyone had a small book of scripture that they have memorized and chanted to rhythmically for the full hour.  I had no idea what they were chanting, even though I was able to make out a few of the Chinese characters in the scripture.  With a string of beads wrapped in their hands adding in clicking sounds as they rubbed against each other, the prayers sounded like a hypnotic piece of music.

Mount Fuji appears after an afternoon hiding behind clouds and fog.

And just as it began, it ended in the same fashion, the altar doors were closed, the wall panels folded back into place and the procession of people exited quietly.  Strolling through the temple's expansive gardens and monk dormitories, the experience was enchanting.  This being the third religious holy site that I've visited in my lifetime, it was equally as breathtaking as the Vatican and the Potala Palace.  There is a sense of serenity in the gardens, plenty of places to go and meditate, away from the noises and sounds of the city.

The gardens of the temple.  Super serene.

Most of all, my grandmother was truly happy with having her family accompany her to this holy place, you could see the energy in her eyes.  I've never seen her so happy.  I was very lucky to have had the chance to travel with my family, especially my grandmother, since this will most likely be her last trip overseas.  I learned a lot about the sense of one's duty to your family, the importance of caring for those who gave you so much.  I was grateful for the lessons learned and being able to observe the interactions of this dynamic family with very different personalities.  While they didn't convert me to their religion, I could see how this faith has shaped the foundation of their life.  I am impressed with the amount of faith they have in the Nichiren - it's something that I don't think I'll be able to achieve with any religion.

Goodnight Tokyo.
Strike another item off my bucket list of things to do: this Jou family trip is something I'll treasure. 

Chapter III: Lhasa - Temples, Incense, Praying...Oh my!

After 24 hours of a sleepless journey from Western China, arriving in Lhasa was a blessing.  Taking a deep breath after taking my first step off the train and onto the platform was required - at almost 3,500m above sea level, there is a notable difference with the air you're taking in around you.  It reminds me of Thanksgiving in cottage country Ontario where the air is clean and crisp, but in Lhasa, you struggle to try to get all the air that you can.

While the air deprivation helped in the light-headedness, I was on a different kind of high.  It was the excitement of being in a place where not many tourists even get to go.  One of the reasons for that is attributable to the first of what I call the three "S"s of Tibet - Security.

The minute we stepped through the station, we were whisked to a checkpoint.  In China, there are a few realities one must embrace at any checkpoint.  There are no lines, just a mass huddle of people not only shoving each other, but also sticking their passports into the Customs Officers' faces hoping for immediate approval.  While being shoved every which way by people two, three times my age, I somehow found a moment to look around and noticed the reality that Tibetans had to live with - the constant supervision of the Chinese military.  One can count at least two to three dozen officers outside the station along with the two or three groups of patrols, their boots' perfectly syncronized click-clacking like a metronome.

One of the few pictures I was able to take of the security
posts at Jokhang Market.

The security didn't let up after we left the train station either.  During our entire stay in Tibet, convoys of military vehicles would surprisingly appear out of nowhere to remind everyone that this land is a part of China.  Tourists would be reprimanded when taking photos of or anywhere near a patrol - I nearly made this mistake when pointing my camera towards a building just as a patrol walked by.  Looking out the window of our tour bus and seeing the third convoy pass us with in a matter of 20 minutes, I wondered: How does one cope with living under this constant watch of the military eye?

The faithful on their way to temple.

And the answer is quite simple - the second of my "S"s of Tibet - Spirituality.  The Tibetan people, faces toughened by the elements and decades of Chinese occupation, escape into their deep faith of Buddhism in order to forget about the realities of the men in green uniforms.  The city is dotted with temples and shrines dedicated to their worship, incense is woven into the air and everywhere you look the faithful are spinning prayer spinners while on their knees praying to the heavens on the two kilometre devotion path around the city centre.

The Potala Palace is the Mecca of the traditional Buddhist faith.  Having only been to one other spiritual epicentre of a religion, the Vatican, the Potala Palace offered a different kind of feeling of majestic beauty.  Rather than the marble of the Vatican, stone and wood are the building blocks of the Potala palace.  Built in the 17th century, the palace is divided into three portions with the dominate colours of red, white and mustard yellow dividing each part of the palace.  Climbing this palace is not an easy feat - you're easily winded if you don't pace yourself and it's hard not to feel slightly inadequate upon seeing 70-80 year old monks passing you up the steps.

The Potala Palace.

At the top, the Potala offers you a spectacular view of Lhasa - flanked by mountains, a plateau and a large river, the sight is truly breathtaking.  Which brings me to my final "S" of Tibet - Serenity.  Now it may seem strange that I would place Serenity along side Security, but I found myself staring at landscapes and listening to the sounds of nature during my entire stay in Lhasa.  The gardens of Nobulinka certainly provided much of that serene atmosphere.  As the summer home of previous Dalai Lamas, Nobulinka is a vast swatch of gardens that you rarely see in a climate as harsh as this.  Beautiful foliage surrounds the summer palace, clearly a perfect place to meditate and collect your thoughts.

The weather here was incredible during my stay.

From the top of the Potala Palace looking at the mountains and the river.

Lhasa is a beautiful city, its traditions kept alive by the faithful and perfectly curated by the military to keep a fragile peace.  The most uncomfortable experience I had in Lhasa was at the Jokhang Market and Temple.  The oldest temple in Lhasa, it was built in the 7th century and had been the seat of the Dalais for centuries before the Potala.  This market is famous for Tibetan monks protesting the occupation of their homeland by China.  Most of these monks set themselves on fire by dousing themselves with gasoline.  Within every hundred metres or so, there are large tents with two to three dozen fire extinguishers and a phalanx of guards - all prepared to deal with the horrific situation of a man on fire.  But the people of the market go about their lives as if the guards aren't there.  The peddle every type of artifact you can think of - pots, pans, prayer beads, prayer spinners, all to make a buck that they will likely donate back to the temple.

The many things you can get at the market.

Lhasa was definitely the highlight of my Tibet trip.  While there are other points of breathtaking moments (most likely because I had very little oxygen left to breath), there were also moments of deep sadness which I will share in the upcoming posts.

Spinning the golden prayer cylinders.

Me and My Dad: Learning to Appreciate Our Similarities

Recently, I was reading an article about written by a guy who wants his kids to know 25 key things about life and his love for them.  It also featured a few videos of awesome dads - some have built roller coasters for their kids in their backyard, and some dress up as Spiderman to go trampolining with their son in public.  After a few laughs and some tugs at the heartstrings, I reminded myself about how lucky I am to have my dad and how he's given me way more than just 25 things to remember about life through his everyday folksy Taiwanese parent advice.

Not sure my Dad would have done this when I was 5, but then again, he likely doesn't know who Spiderman is.

It has been a while since I've blogged about him.  In fact, it was about 5 months ago in which I wrote a blog about my shortcomings as a son and how I was looking forward to traveling with him in Tibet this past April - you can read it here.  Now that I finally have my life back to normal after several months of traveling, I had better put some thoughts down on "paper" about our always growing relationship.

On the Tibetan Plains.  With our shades.  Rockin' it.

Compared to six months ago when I landed in Taiwan, I've been able to check my attitude and speaking tone with him better than before.  Still, there are a few slip ups where I let out an outburst, usually it is after one of his moments of advice where I feel like I am still a 8 year old child in his eyes.  My mom once told me that his parental nagging will never change - "your parent will always treat you as if you were still their baby and that their love for you can never change in that respect" - and then she bluntly told me, "You're just going to have to live with it."

Well, ain't that the truth.  As much as I see it as an annoyance at times, I was completely blinded to the fact that these little tidbits of wisdom he's been trying to pass down shouldn't serve to irritate me but to show me how there's someone out there who loves me so much that they would take the time to pass on advice that he would never share with someone else (I believe one of his commandments is to never trust restaurant chopsticks and bring your own disposable ones.  He's pretty OCD about germs and dirt.)  And if anything, it provides constant entertainment for me as I learn more and more each day about how his mind operates, that we're not so different in personality and that I have so much left to learn from him.

My dad and I are alike in many ways.  A couple of years ago, on a trip from Ottawa to Guelph, my brother pointed that out to me and I spent about two hours of that car ride trying to convince him how I wasn't but failed to convince anyone.  Here's a rundown of how similar we are:

- My father and I are both the first borns in our family, which has resulted in an ability to be somewhat dictatorial and critical over how our siblings should behave.  However, he has mastered this and his siblings very rarely question his authority.  My brother, on the other hand, disposed my rule long ago and sometimes treats my advice as how I treat my dad's (oh, karma.)

- My father and I are pretty OCD when it comes to cleaning and organizing.  I realized this when I organized my table before I left for my European adventure only to come back to see that he organized it in a completely different way.  He's also a great suitcase packer, I mean, I'm pretty good, but he's Olympics level good.

- My father and I are hopelessly impatient.  We both walk at a pace that's twice as fast as regular people and always want to be the first in line (I noticed this as we were always the first to hop off our tour bus to get the best photos when we were in Tibet.  And yet, he somehow always gets his way where as I've been slapped on my hand several times for my anxiety.

First off the bus = first to get this picture of the Tibetan mountain ranges.  #Winning.

I'm happy to say we've been able to find things that we can bond over - our love for photography, drinking beer and weird news articles.  His high praise for some of my photography made me feel really good, as it's been a while since I've received a compliment from someone I truly care about.

Over the past six months, I've had the chance to appreciate the time I've spent with my dad and to learn what an great man he is.  I'm sad it has taken me so long (almost 18 years since my mom and dad divorced) to realize this fact, but the truth is that there are dads out there that would have given up on his children after a divorce and start a new family elsewhere.  After all of the shitty things I've done and said over the past 18 years, this is a man who's been able to let all of that slide.  He's picked himself up off the ground from every emotional punch I've thrown at him and refused to hit back.

My dad never gave up on my brother and me, even with the huge number of barriers that some threw up in his way to connect with his children, he never let us go.  This is why to him, we'll always be children - it's the memory he's held onto to get to this point.

A rare photo from our time in Taiwan.  This, as my mom says, is how I will always look in his eyes.

So with this post, I am saying with a blog that I've never been able to say in person, which is to say that I love my dad.  With 18 years of catching up left to do, I'm happy that at 28 and with him at (almost) 57, we will have our remaining years to try to fill in that missing time - it's something I'm looking forward to.

The Beauty that is Chinese Characters

Week Two of Mandarin school and the fun continues.  I'm amazed by how many characters I've learned (and memorized) up to this point - my last count was approximately 200 characters (silent happy dance and Woot Woot).  However, there are things I discover about this language everyday that make me wish that I had not abandoned it so quickly as a child.  One of them, which I continue to unravel as I absorb more and more characters, is the artform in constructing a Chinese character.

A brief lesson on the history of the written Chinese language.  Chinese characters evolved from pictograms, simple words like fire, man, female, wood and field all came from what the word looked like in nature.

Fire - looks like a bonfire.
Man - looks like a person walking.
Female - looks like a person with wide hips.
Wood - looks like the branches of a tree.
Field - looks like how rice paddies are organized.

However, throughout what was China at the time, each kingdom and territory had their own written and spoken form of Chinese.  It wasn't until the Qin Dynasty in 200 BC that the Emperor decided to standardize the written language so that people from one end of China could communicate with people on the other end, regardless of what dialect they subscribed to.

Since standardization, the base words have been used to create new words and characters.  These base words - 214 characters also known as The Chinese Radicals (which a friend of mine remarked would be an awesome name for an indie band) - would be used in different formations to create other characters that would represent other things.  It's in fact how I've been able to memorize so many characters - is by breaking them down to their basic meaning and remembering what order they appear in the word.

Take for example the word for "to speak":

To Speak (shuo in pinyin) is made up of the characters for Words, Points, Mouth and Man.
The words are coming from the points leaving the man's mouth.

Cool, right?  It's similar to word construction in languages that use alphabets, but there's something more poetic to written Traditional Chinese.  Each pen stroke has meaning (which I have yet to master) and each character contributes to a canvas of different elements to create a beautiful picture.

Here's another cool example of "dormitory" (two words):

Dormitory (su she in pin yin) is broken into two characters.  Su is made up of Roof, People and Hundred.
She is made up of People, Shield and Enclosure.  Many people living under a shielded enclosure - not that hard to memorize.

Finally, my favourite (albeit personal) interpretation of a Chinese character is the word for "love":

Love (Ai in pin yin) is a character you likely recognize because millions of non-Chinese people have it tattooed on their bodies somewhere.
Surprisingly, I find that the character is made up of the radicals for Claws, Cover, Heart and Follow.
While the latter two are logical (follow your heart with love), the first two are quite comical - love would certainly claw at your heart, so you need to have some sort of cover to protect it.

Again, the latter interpretation is purely my own personal thoughts on the word Love (not that I am at all bitter at the concept of Love).

If you're interested, here are all 214 radical characters:

The first time I saw this sheet, I nearly crapped myself.

When I stumble across more words that are of comical note, I will make sure to share with you all.

Celebrating Three Anniversaries that Changed My Life

There's something refreshing about the beginning of September.  It's the beginning of the school year  and having been a geek all my life, it was always something I looked forward to.  It's the beginning of fall, my favourite season, especially in North America; the air is crisp enough to wear a jacket (I have an unhealthy obsession with jackets) and sleeping with the windows open requires that extra blanket so you don't catch a cold.

This September marks some important anniversaries in my life.  One involves gaining independence, one involves a loss and one involves a journey of discovery.

It was ten years ago this September that I packed up a minivan full of my possessions, drove down the 401 past hundreds of farm fields to a small city called London, Ontario.  Here, I would attend an amazing university, the University of Western Ontario.  Here is where I would gain independence - no one was accountable for my grades, my bills or how I lived my life except for me.  While there's not much of that Orientation Week that I remember (most likely due to the copious amount of alcohol that was consumed), I remember meeting a floormate who would turn out to be my roommate for the remaining three years and still an incredibly good friend today.  More friends were gained along the way, some were lost, but overall, I was lucky enough to meet some fascinating individuals, some of whom I have had the great fortune of traveling with on my trip around the world.

It was two years ago this weekend that I talked to my grandmother for the last time.  Having battled lung and bone cancer for over a year and a half, she died shortly after collapsing on her way back to her room at the hospital in Los Angeles.  Luckily, I was fortunate enough to have planned a trip to visit her that Labour Day weekend and had a nice chat before she passed.  It was my grandmother that really encouraged me to reconnect with my father's side of the family.  It could have been guilt from all of the mean things that were said and done during my parents' divorce, but her one message to me throughout the entire time she was battling her illness was that I needed to patch things up with my dad.  If it wasn't for her urging and what I believe is her continued guidance on the matter, it wouldn't have led me to where I am today.

And it was six months ago today that I quietly sipped on a gin and tonic while watching Toronto disappear from my window as I sat on my midnight flight to Taipei.  Half excited, a quarter drunk and the remainder anxious, I had no idea what was in store for me in my year off.  I had left a comfortable life for the unknown and having always been the person with a plan, not having one made me feel empty and lost.  It never occurred to me that I was pretty empty and lost all along, even with my plans.  What I was missing was family and having had the chance to be with my dad's side of my family 24/7 for two months made me realize how much I needed these people in my life.  It also marked the start of an incredible journey that would take me to new places I had never seen before like Tibet, Vietnam, Singapore, Malaysia, Portugal, Spain, Croatia and Scotland.  I've experienced some great moments like celebrating with thousands of Spaniards on La Ramblas after their Euro Cup win or taking a dip in Loch Ness while the sun blazed down on us sipping whiskey on the beach.

This weekend has certainly been a time for reflection - this perfect storm of anniversaries have made me appreciate that saying, "everything happens for a reason."  Within the last six months, I've learned a lot about my strengths and weaknesses - these next six months will be about how I take that knowledge and determine what I want to do moving forward.  May more eureka moments occur, and may more truths shed light on paths that need to be followed.

Olympics "I Believe" Song on repeat

I remember the first time I knew anything about the Olympics was in 1992.  I was in the 2nd grade and our gym teacher had us run around the gym pretending we were Olympic athletes.  Being the precious kid that I was, I decided being a spectator was my contribution to the "games."  

Even as a young child, I wasn't much into doing anything really physical.  I couldn't even dig in the sand without distain.

Then Lillehammer 1994 happened and I paid more attention to these games as Canada actually medals in the Winter games.  This was the year that Elvis Stojko unleashed the dragon and made figure skating two shades less feminine than it really is.  And my grandfather was very much into hockey, so I watched the tournament with him, and even though Canada won Silver, it was one of my favourite memories of childhood as I was able to spend so much time with my grandpa.


Through the years, Atlanta, Nagano, Sydney, Salt Lake, Athens, Turin, and Beijing were always fun to follow, but I never really LOVED the games until Vancouver 2010.  This time Canada was the focus of the games, and I was determined to go and experience the fun.  I was lucky enough to get tickets to the Gold Medal Men's hockey game, gambling on the fact that Canada would be in the finals.  The country was slow on the medal count, but the games finished like a fairy tale ending.  An overtime goal by Sidney Crosby to capture Men's Gold, the Canadian Olympic Team set an all time gold medal record by a host country at 14 gold medals, and some incredible tales of triumph from athletes like Joannie Rochette, who lost her mom before she was to skate, made you tear up like a 40 year old single woman watching Titanic for the fourteenth time on a Friday night with her cats.

Going buckwild after Canada wins in overtime.  One of my best moments of life ever.

I'll admit, for a time after Vancouver 2010, I was in a funk.  I wanted to turn on the TV to watch ANY sport that involved three medals at the end.  It could have been Olympic speed knitting and I would have watched.  I was so obsessed with the Olympics, I had the Nikki Yanokovski "I Believe" song playing on repeat on my iPod as I walked to work and pretended to move in slow motion like the people in the montages on CTV.  It made for a slow walk to work.

Just in case you haven't had enough of it...

So, when London 2012 crept closer, and I realized that I would be in Europe for the summer, there was no question that I would stop by this city to enjoy the games.  Thankfully, my friends Alex and Sandy have conveniently moved to this city, so free accommodations mean cheap Terence can spend more money on booze.  (And trust me, I have).


The Opening Ceremonies
After a day of walking around the city with Sandy and our friend Laura, we went to Canada House in Trafalgar Square to see what it had planned for the athletes.  We were disappointed to find that all they had for us were pins (we took them nonetheless) and they directed us to the Maple Leaf bar in Covent Garden.  We were joined by Alex, Phil (another friend from uni) and Phil's friend Jamie and we celebrated the Opening Ceremonies with at least 400 other Canadians crammed into the bar.  There were several moments of SHHHH! to try to listen to what was happening.  Other moments of laughter at the British sense of humour including:


- Free health care promotion (an obvious F you to Mitt Romney who was visiting and made some rather silly comments about the Olympic games)
- the Queen jumping from a helicopter with James Bond
- Three dozen Mary Poppins flying into the stadium


And of course, cheering for the countries as they marched into the stadium.  We cheered the loudest for Canada and Team GB, but as we got drunker and drunkier, we started clinking our glasses for Team Swaziland and Uzbekistan...haha...who comes up with these names?


Speaking of drunk, one of the highlights of the bar, was this couple from the West Coast.  The wife got hammered and started hitting on Phil and Jamie.  She tried with Alex, but Sandy shot her some Asian cuteye and she backed off.  They still stole our seats that we had occupied since 5pm.  Lesson learned, don't be nice.


However, we were unceremoniously all kicked out right before Sir Paul performed and people were losing their minds.  Very unCanadian like behaviour was displayed and we all went home with a bitter taste in our mouths - or perhaps that was from the vomit after nine pints of Strongbow.


Day 2 - 3m Women's Syncronized Springboard Diving
Our only ticket to the games was to the diving event at the aquatics centre on Sunday.  We were lucky enough to get seats to this event - little did we know that we'd be watching Canada get it's first medal.  It started with Canada doing really well, and in true Canadian style, we lost the lead and China, being the powerhouse they are, won Gold.  We were sitting in the nosebleeds but I truly believe our cheers reached all the way to the platforms 4,000m below us.

This is with 55mm zoom.  We were still super far.

Alex, Sandy and I wandered around the Olympic Park afterwards and it's massive and quite impressive.  The weather was bipolar, so we got waves of sunshine followed by a lightning show and a downpour back to happy sunny skies within a matter of an hour.  Mother Nature must have been watching the Joannie Rochette story with her cats.


The Olympic Park is located in London's East end, notorious for being the shady part of the city, has been refurbished to be the most sustainable Olympic Park ever.  The stadium, Aquatics centre, Velodrome, football and hockey fields are all located in this park.  A big wildflower field also serves as a live TV venue for those coming in and out of other events.  Alex wore his Union Jack and I wore the Maple Leaf flag.  The spirit of the games made the Olympic Park into a grown up version of Disneyland where everyone was smiling and greeting people with "hello, how are you?" or a "woot!  Canada!!!"  The Olympic volunteers were so happy, I think they inhaled a bag of happy gas before starting their shifts.  Here are some selects from the Olympic grounds:

Wildflowers are present all around the park.

The orbit - telecom tower and observation deck.

Very Polka Dot Door.

The Velodrome.

One Eyed Monster Mascot.

The Stadium.

Jump for the Olympics!

We don't have any more tickets to any of the other events, but with the controversy of the empty seats at the venues, we might get another chance to go!  If not, anyone up for Sochi 2014?

One bite at a time - Eating my way through Europe

There's a scene in the movie Eat, Pray, Love, where Julia Robert's character, Liz, makes a simple Italian meal for herself and plants herself on the floor of her Roman flat, where she spends an entire afternoon just savouring each bite of her food.  This scene is significant to me for two reasons - the first, is that I just finished reading the book on my European travels (Sidebar: did anyone else find it really hard to get through the India part of the book?); and the second is that I had several of these EAT moments in Europe.

Don't get me wrong, I really liked the movie, but I can see how people were pissed that so much was missing from the book.  Definitely a rental.

From my acorn-fed jamon in Barcelona to the lasagna I had in Markaska, Croatia, to the (several) cheese and wine combos in Paris, I've gained two new friends - I've named my lovehandles "Carbs" and "Consequences."  (Those "C" twins are so evil.)

I stare at this photo when I'm hungry.  It's the way of encouraging myself to write a lot of award winning books, gain the income to hire the chef that made this award winning lasagna, and hire a trainer to work off the weight I'll gain from eating this for every meal, everyday.

I've had a great time in Europe so far - besides the excellent food, I've experienced so much in the past five weeks that have opened my eyes to the fact that I am still as not as well traveled as I hope to be, that there are still things I need to work (cough...communicating my feelings...cough) and that I can really get used to this life of just wandering from place to place and not doing anything.  Now if I can only find a way of making income out of doing nothing...


Traveling has also given me a couple of story ideas to tinker with and hopefully that will result in the income that will allow me to travel some more, which will result in more story ideas and more income...you see what I'm getting at here?  Sigh, it is hard not to get ahead of yourself when you have this much time on your hands to just dream.  (Insert the Bob Sinclair Love Generation song from the Lotto Max commercials here as I dream about my next vacation.)


There are several highlights of this trip (besides the food - wait, I said this already) that I can't wait to start blogging about in my following entries - they include:


- celebrating Spain's Eurocup win in Barcelona on Las Ramblas and watching people drunkenly climb the lamp posts and praying they didn't fall to their deaths, 
- meeting a seminary student on the train from Zagreb to Split, Croatia and talking to him about everything from politics to religion to Croatian reality TV for about four hours as our train was delayed by a fire on the track (no, not dangerous at all),
- waking up every morning to the sound of the Adriatic waves splash against our boat and then jumping into the clear blue waters after breakfast on my Split - Dubrovnik cruise,

Life is hard when you have to jump off a boat everyday.

- the most random Sunday I've ever experienced which included a Tim Burton-esque circus exhibit, followed by running into a random Brazilian drum band and random carnival rides that made my friend Lindsay and I sick.


Each place I've visited in the last five weeks have left quite the impression.  Portugal was a friendly destination where surprisingly everyone spoke English with you, because they are probably tired of foreigners butchering Portuguese or speaking to them in Spanish.  Spain was incredibly hot and a great place to meet interesting characters on our Trafalgar tour - including some older Aussies and New Zealanders who insisted that the Spanish speak English.  Croatia was relaxing after three weeks of bus tours and an eclectic mix of young Australians - there were only Aussies on this part of my travels, I was quite the minority as an Asian Canadian (or Canasian).  And well, Paris, it was all about living the life of a Parisien, so much so that I was even getting annoyed with the tourists and saying my "Pardon!"s with an annoyance that would make any local proud.


What makes life so great at the moment is that my European adventures are not over.  There's still the London Olympics and Scotland and all of its foggy glory left to experience!  


It's not hard to keep saying to myself - fuck, I'm so glad I decided to take this break.

Taking the time to have a meal outside

A guy I used to work with used to love eating his lunches outside during the summer time.  There was once I joined him at his favourite spot near Yonge and Bloor, where we used to work.  It was in a small parkette near a firehall and a condo, a quaint little square that obviously had caught the attention of others as it was packed.  During my entire time there, I wondered, how was he able to do this everyday?  And more importantly, why am I not doing this everyday?


It wasn't until I quit my job back in February that I was able to truly appreciate eating a meal outside.  Granted, I didn't do this while I was still in Toronto - it was still pretty fucking cold outside, but I did more of that in Taiwan, where it was 25 - 30 degrees Celsius everyday.  I sat on a Starbucks patio, or a bench in my local park, or just a busy walkway in downtown Taipei - it was just good to eat, reflect and people watch.  


So apparently, this has been the best day in London for a while - it's been raining like mad lately, so with the sun out, I decided it was a perfect day to walk around and eat breakfast outside.  

What it looked like outside my hotel window this morning.

I indulged my inner nerd this morning and decided to go to the British Natural History Museum.  Well, it was also a cost effective move as the admission is free.  Grabbing a croissant and a lemonade to go, I headed to the museum which is only a 10 minute walk away from my hotel.  This was my first time at the museum as the last time I was here, we didn't have a chance to go inside and look around.  When I turned the corner and saw the building, I was just mesmerized.   Everything about it was impressive - the gates, the colours of the facade and especially the lush green lawn that surrounded the compound.  

A perfect place for breakfast.  

Sitting there for an hour was a bit of a challenge and something I still need to work on, which is slowing down.  I inhaled my food (likely because I was hungry) rather than savouring each bite.  I did think to myself after 15 minutes, so what now?  All the other times I had sat outside for lunch, I was either eating with someone, reading something or surfing online.  With none of these options available, I had to start training myself to sit back, observe, and enjoy the surroundings like these fine people below. 

A small part of me wonders why I didn't do this more often when I was working...

I encourage everyone to take some time out of their day to sit outside and have a meal.  Don't make the excuse that you can't do lunch because of work, well, there's always dinner.  Have a picnic, sit on your balcony or find a park bench or any bench for that matter and feed your stomach, your senses and your soul.  Trust me, it really gives you perspective on what really matters out of your day.