Glamour and the Stench of the Seoul Sewage System Part 1

It's been ages (over a month) since I last posted. There have been countless experiences that I've wanted to cover here, but alas I'm subject to my own procrastination and thus be my downfall as a writer. In any case, this past week's experiences are definitely something to write home about. Anyone who knows me or my current situation would know that I'm currently residing in the Republic of Korea. As such, my career bares little resemblance to that which I'd dedicated myself to for the past several years: fashion. In my day to day life, it's impossible for me to renounce my love of the art of fashion and all that accompanies self-beautification (minus self-mutilation, like cosmetic surgery). Though I've left the building, and "hung up my hat" so to speak--solely because I am currently teaching a sea of Hangul-crunching urchins does not equal the demise of my life in fashion.

This brings me to my present state of being. As if hearkened by the beacons of my heyday, fashion has found me once again...and as usual, I've gladly acquiesced. Back in August, upon my return to Korea, I met a young Canadian woman named Denise while out with friends. I mentioned her in my previous post. We really took to one another, and it was mentioned that my past work had been in fashion and on-set beauty departments. Denise is a photographer and works with another ex-pat, an American Blasian (Korea and African American) named Michael. Michael has created a website representing Korean street fashion for foreigners entitled Feet Man Seoul (www.feetmanseoul.com). The site covers mainstream fashion, local social events, street fashion--among other topics, such as music and Korean pop culture. One night, while painting the town blood red, Denise drunkenly mentioned to me that she was working on a fashion magazine to be distributed circa Seoul fashion week. Of course she mentioned this knowing that I'd invite myself onto the project...which I did. I immediately asked, pleaded, begged to have a hand in on the baby and she said she'd she what her project partner thought. Only a few days passed and I was invited to meet Michael, offering my services as stylist on the project.

We met at Doota!, the enormous shopping complex at the Dongdaemun ("East Gate") area of Seoul. It was evening, and incredibly windy. I was running late, as usual, and I found them outside trying to fend off the tempestuous annoyance. For some reason we didn't immediately go inside and escape the frigid temperature. I think that was probably because once you enter one of these large shopping complexes talking becomes troublesome and conducting a deep conversation, or a meet and greet as this was, would prove nearly impossible. So we remained outside and chatted about the project. I asked questions, and though many responses were vague at best, I did see true passion and potential in their eyes and ideas. These two elements are strong legs to stand on.

In true form, I began to shoot off my mouth and offer my ideas on a silver platter. Though some of my supposed "gems" were promptly denied any place on this project, I understood my place quickly and relegated myself to it. Now that we'd satisfied ourselves with banter, we entered the building and began to scour the many levels for the number one item on our list: lingerie. Yes, this was to be a lingerie shoot. The concept of the magazine is basically this: a "look-book" of sorts, with glimpses of Seoul fashion week's shows, street fashion, a few articles, and a photo-story--which was our main focus on this meeting. This photo story followed an evening in the life of a scorned young woman, who leaves the throws of a hunky, young gentleman to prowl the streets clad only in what she's left in...her underwear. Edgy. Sexy. A new concept in Korean culture: a woman claiming her sexual prowess as power. I liked the idea and quickly began to create a story in my head, with fully flushed-out characters with legs to kill.

With this in mind, we stopped at a few lingerie kiosks and found nothing to our taste. In a place this big with so many trends and an incredible penchant for style turn-over, it becomes an overbearing game of hit or miss. Michael said he knew of a more risque vendor on the basement level, so we ventured down into the deep to look for what we hoped wouldn't be death by ruffles, or bludgeoned by padding (not to mention choking on glitter). We found the dark little corner he spoke of after scouring through the labyrinthine alleys of the make-shift shops. There we found undi's a plenty, many not to our liking, in fact...I'm shocked they'd be to any one's liking--except maybe a Russian hooker (but then again, we get a lot of those here). Our focus color was purple, the "it" color of the season, or brown--to play off the models golden tan. We found a few options we felt forced to like, and then finally came upon a few that we actually did envision on the 6 foot plus body of our model: Henna. Thankfully, Michael is nearly fluent in Korean so he managed to work-it with the saleswoman and finally we had our first piece; a surprisingly elegant, yet sexy, brown-sheen bra and french-cut panty set. This was the beginning of our journey into public nudity.

When we'd finished, we met up with one of Michael's longtime friends whom he'd not seen in nearly a decade. It was a quick and passionless reunion, but still it thwarted us off to dinner where we shared Uzbek food and beer. The food was good enough. Loads of meat. Similar to middle eastern food as well as Russian, but a bit bland for my palette. Nonetheless, the conversation was dynamic and I was sure this was a marriage of minds made in heaven. With enough time, patience, and arguing we'd make quite the team.

And so it begins...

Tomorrow isn't my official first day of work, but I will be going in for a 'meet and greet,' so to speak. I'll be meeting my new boss, and coworkers, and also attempt to make some lesson plans. I just visited the school after walking my man to the bus stop since I have to be there at 9am tomorrow morning and found it essential to, well, know where I was going. The campus looks quite nice, actually, and they have a killer playground. Sue me but I love slides, swings, and jungle gyms. This passed week has been pretty great. Reuniting with my Dong Wook has been magical, to say the least, and the world which I have re-entered I find almost more inviting than the one I left. This weekend I made my first journey back into Seoul to meet friends and party the night away after months of absence. We met up in Sinchon to visit a bar some foreigners had opened. The drink specials will get us to go anywhere, who are we kidding. It had been quite a while since I'd tied one on, and man was my body not used to it. We drank like thirsty horses, but by the end of the night were panting like hot dogs. We started at a bar called the King's Cross (I think) where I met some new friends: a Canadian girl named Denise, and a Korean-American girl named Carrie. I helped the girls to learn to flirt, since it seems as though they'd been deficient in this skill all of their lives, despite their attractive appearances. Either way, I do hope my teachings further them in their sexual and romantic ventures. From here we moved onto Hongdae: the place to be if you're young and in Korea. By this point I was already pretty tipsy and we ended up at a club where it was 9,000won ($9) cover, and all you can drink Tequila. I'm not a fan of Tequila, but all you can drink? For a man on a budget, I was definitely sold. This place was a sweat box and I danced with several Korean fellows. I find their interest in hip-hop culture somewhat comical but equally sexy. I also find it fascianting how Korean men always want to dance with me as a way to meet my female companions. It's my pleasure to help them, and my friends, get laid since I am only there for the fun these days. We ate and drank, ate and drank, and danced, and danced, and danced--until it was finally 6am and thus time to go home. Before we went our seperate ways, a few of us stayed behind for some spicy as hell Budejige at tent city, and some last minute Soju. Breakfast of champions. On my first journey back home I found myself drunkenly lost for two hours. It was both embarrassing and annoying. Note to self: if I'm going to get that drunk, stay at a friends. I was on and off trains and buses in a mad pursuit to find the correct route home, to little or no avail. It was like playing Zelda blind-folded. I stopped into McD's and had some more breaky, as an excuse to "sober up," when I really just wanted a greasily delicious sandwich in my tum-tum. Either way, I made it back home in need of some lenghthy respite. I did manage, for some odd reason, to stumble onto the Wall-E OST on my iPod as I arrived home and found myself crying quite emotionally for thirty minutes before finally dozing off. Believe it or not, I was crying specifically because of the movie. In my drunken state, that which I found fascinating and endearing about the film was escalated to the brink of my tears moistening my pillow in a deluge of melodrama. Thomas Newman is one hell of a composer. The last couple of days I've spent mostly with my boyfriend, briefly stopping into Seoul for some bootlegs movies. I was in desperate need to continue my illegal ventures here in Korea. Feeling a bit under the weather yesterday, we returned home and had some more take away Chinese (delicious and cheap), and watched M. Night Shyamalan's 'The Happening,' which I won't even bother to review because it was utter crap. It pains me when a talented writer/director has an inspired idea and then proceeds to use it as toilet tissue. I did manage to get my boyfriend to watch 'Showgirls,' however, which is the perfect example of something that is so bad it is very, very good. And so I go, off to tap dance for yet another school. Will I slip, or will I dance my way into their hearts?

The Night is Dark: A 'The Dark Knight' Movie Review

To call this a superhero or comic book film would totally discredit the masterpiece of a crime drama that it transcends to be. Though dealing with the typical model of 'good guy' against 'bad guy,' Christopher Nolan and the new "Bat-Crew" know how to give us exactly the Batman that we need for this day and age, and not one in tights. The days of camp are over and in are the grimy times of reality. Violence, greed, unspeakable cruelty...these themes resound in the film, but we are forced to ask a question that challenges us in our own current political climate: where do we draw the line between hero and villain? When does collateral damage become a necessity and not a choice or accident? The film does not try to glorify its hero, nor does it chastise its villains. It is up to us to decide, as an audience, as an individual, and as a citizen, what we believe justice is. Though my love for the Tim Burton Batman franchise will never dissipate, I cannot deny that Nolan's take on this dark story is more current and far more relevant. Heath Ledger's performance was nothing short of legendary; balancing insanity, and misanthropy, all the while making us laugh along with him even in the face of his merciless violence (much like Hannibal Lector). His untimely death will no doubt be the talk of next year's Oscar's, as he is sure to be nominated. Christian Bale is a sturdy Bruce Wayne/Batman, and Morgan Freeman, Michael Cain, and Gary Oldman are all on top of their game (not that they ever aren't, in all fairness). The addition of Maggie Gyllenhaal as Rachel Dawes(replacement to Katie Holmes), and Aaron Eckhart as Harvey Dent/Two Face were wise choices. Both are strong actors, holding their own if not making themselves known in a film already bursting with fresh, and fascinating newness. This is a dark film for dark times for a world that barely has a Knight in sight.

"Hey, it's the new Malibu Stacy...and she's better than ever!!!"

My return to Korea wasn't exactly the smoothest of operations. After spending a month with my family in San Diego post-African journey, I had become accustomed to life on hold. Doing little to nothing all day everyday was both wearing on me and growing on me simultaneously. I knew it was a matter of time before I headed back to Korea, but waiting renders actuality useless when time moves like a drunken snail. Pro's: being with the family, seeing my nieces, playing with my dog Sammy, eating all the food I love/hate, visiting with friends, and stocking up on DVD's and going to the cinema. Con's: no job, no money, boyfriend eagerly awaiting me as I eagerly awaited returning to him, an influx in fatty cells collecting in areas I'd rather they not be. In the end, however, I did garner a great teaching position at a public school in Gimpo, closer to Seoul than I'd been before. Public school positions mean two things: less work, more vacation. Sign me up. I departed my old home in Chula Vista along with my parents to the San Diego International Airport at Lindbergh field on the morning of August 18th. Little did I know that United Airlines was going to live up to their standard of crapiness and cause me to lose my connection at SFO with Singapore Airlines. Due to weather conditions beyond anyone's control, San Fran was not allowing flights to enter it's airfield. Unfortunately for me, that meant that I'd probably miss my connecting flight into Seoul. I pleaded with the United crew to change my flight so that I could divert spending a costly night in SF, but they assured me that I would make my connection. Well, that gum-smacking Armo-biotch didn't know her ass from her elbow. I was indeed stranded in San Fran for a night, having to pay for a room out of pocket. I spent the entirety of my stay in my hotel room, eating, watching Will & Grace, and catching up on some much needed recovery sleep. Packing had proven a daunting task the evening prior. In any event, I was on the next flight with Singapore Airlines the following day. Singapore Airlines has to be the best airline EVER!!! They are the kindest, most attentive people I've ever encountered on an airplane. The food was delicious, the LCD screens unbelievably large, and the entertainment choices too vast to fathom. I couldn't do or see everything I wanted in the 11-hour flight. My seat even had a power connection, and usb port. Pretty crazy stuff. I could only imagine flying First Class. They must blow you up there. I arrived in Korea glad to be back, and nervous to face my boyfriend--though I was dying to see him. I wasn't sure what to expect, or what sort of welcome I'd receive after my four-month departure. Phone calls and e-mails are one thing...but eyes cannot lie. After collecting my luggage, and exchanging my money, I exited the baggage claim area and entered the openness of the welcome area. A sea of people stood there; signs bearing various names, some faces disappointed that I was not the love one they'd been expecting for who knows how long. I looked about but didn't see him. I figured he was grabbing a drink or something considering my flight was an hour early. Then I saw a hand flailing about in my direction. A buzzed head with thick-framed glasses approached me. This was not the way I'd left him, but this is to whom I'd returned to...and let me tell you, I was unaware he could look better. We crashed into each other embracing for a moment. It seemed unreal. To touch each other once more after such an extended amount of time seemed alien though welcome and necessary. I could breath again. We walked out and grabbed a bus to the other nearby airport in Gimpo, where we'd be staying for the night. We stayed at the Hotel Airport where we caught up, watched tv, and ate a late dinner. Ah, bibimbap at midnight...how I missed it. We woke late the following morning. I had an appointment at 2pm to meet my co-worker to collect my apartment key in a nearby area of Gimpo. Dong Wook and I had some McD's and then headed to the Gimpo Office of Education. We arrived a bit early but found Ji Young, the woman I was scheduled to meet. She was very kind and giggly. We walked a short distance and made it to my new apartment building. It looked new, and was smaller than what I was used to. We entered and she informed me that most of the tenant were foreign teachers, so that I'd have a lot of fun and help there. That was a nice and comforting thought. We sat for a while and talked about a few things. She seems like a very kind and helpful woman...I just hope she isn't too nosey. Dong Wook is convinced she likes me. Eeeesh. I also met my neighbor, a rather handsome Korean-American guy from Colorado. He had an odd and shy demeanor about him. Ponder... We spent that evening grocery shopping, eating Chinese take-away, and watching Clueless. I walked Dong Wook to the nearby bus stop, which will soon be my main means of transport--and man is it efficient. Big time yay. I spent the rest of the evening getting comfortable in my new apartment. I slept in my sleeping bag because the sheet on my bed was a little dingy. My sheets are still in "storage" until this weekend, so I can't wait to get them. Something tells me the girl who occupied my apartment before me was a fat white girl. There were too many stuffed animals, origami rosettes, and tie-dyed astrological stickers everywhere. Am I right or am I right? Today I woke up early but stayed in bed and napped until I was ready to get up and moving. I watched a little Will & Grace and unpacked all of my luggage. A bit later, Dong Wook arrived and we cleaned the hell out of my apartment. That place is pretty clean now. I just need a design concept, though that will come with time and money. It was raining all day, but we made the decision to go grab a bite and walk around the neighborhood. I live in a pretty cool area. It's considered downtown Gimpo. I live near a supermarket, tons of PC rooms, restaurants (including trusty American fast food, and pizza), a CINEMA!!!, but best of all...a VIPS!!! VIPS is a steak and salad restaurant that has an amazing salad bar. I love salad bars because they are all you can eat, and this once happens to have a nacho bar, and smoked salmon. Yes, I'm a fatty. We had Budejigue for dinner, which is basically meat (ground beef, franks, and spam), and noodles (ramen, glass, and rice noodle) soup. It's hot, spicy, and smackulicious. It came with free ice cream after, and it was a dirt-cheap meal. After that, we went to see The Dark Knight and now we're here, at the PC room--"catching up on my correspondence." But for now, we gotta head home. It's getting late and the hubby has a headache. Until next time.

Ahhh, cinema...

Needless to say, I was busting to go to a movie theater, seeing as how I've been weening lion cubs, and exploiting ancient African cultures over the last eight weeks. But today, I dedicated myself to a double-feature...and I am so glad that I did.The first film was Sex and the City. I'd read many scathing reviews, touting it as too somber, and dark. That the film had lost its fun and resulted in a cacophony, so to speak, of melodramatic emotions. I personally liked the tone of the film. I think it was an honest film about how love can exhilarate, delight, and consume but at the same time ache, scar, and even deprive one of their own personal needs. I found the film funny, sometimes a bit more slapstick than the show, but still funny. The only qualm I had was with Miranda's character. They escalated her far above the bitch scale. At the end of the series, her heart had warmed-up and she was less of a curmudgeon, and with the film we were at square one again. A character should always remain as such, and not become a characature...there is a difference. I did find, however, Miranda and Steve's reunion on the bridge to be the most poignant scene of all.The clothing was phenomenal, as was the look, and artistic design. We'd already learned, with the final season of the show, to accept that Carrie dawns clothing far-above her price range and this trend continues with the film. But it's part of the escapism of the series. We wouldn't want to see her in anything else but the latest. All in all, I was more than pleased with the film and I'll admit that I cried a few times. But hey, I'm a fan. Sue me.My second feature was Pixar's newest Masterpiece, Wall-E. Basically, I cried from the beginning to the end. It was so painfully beautiful that one can't help but become over-emotional. It's slightly a polarizing film, however, because it's animated. I fear that the audience will enter the film expecting a film about a clutzy robot who cleans up trash, but will encounter once in the theater that the film is so much more than that. It has the gentle quality of a Charlie Chaplin film, where there is no real dialogue or sounds besides the music (though Wall-E does make R2D2-like sounds) for the entire first chapter of the film, but there is a very clear tone and message. The earth has been reduced to a barren wasteland, with piles of garbage so high that they challenge the surrounding sky scrapers. The air is so thick with smog, that there is a labored, and colorless gloom that spans the sky. But Wall-E knows no different, and unfazed as he conducts his days as usual, he becomes enchanted with the human world that once existed there and collects "artifacts" that inspire wonder and amusement in him: feelings so innocent and simple, that it's heartbreaking that we, who still live amongst these artifacts, do not see.Wall-E's fascination with the film 'Hello Dolly' is more so an allure to that that is jovial, and exuberant than an interest in musical cinema. We see Wall-E's loneliness echoed here, and how he longs for the existence of someone besides himself and his only friend, a cockroach. It's then that he meets a robot far-superior to his making, and falls in what he understands to be love. Though these characters are (as cliche as it sounds it's true) robots, the audience can't help but recognize the humanity in their courtship. It's tender, fearless, and real.The second chapter of the film takes Wall-E to space where he discovers the remnants of the human race, now reduced to large piles of consumption: so gluttonous that they've lost the ability (or the will) to walk. They are so lazy that they drink their food, and do not notice the things that happen further than that which occurs in front of their noses. Needless to say, the film has a strong message in regards to our world's consumer issues, and how we are the masters of our own inevitable demise. It's sad, and true, and scary to see. This portion of the film relies more on dialogue and a bit of slapstick, but it has a Kubrickian sensibility to it--where robots rule, and we acquiesce to their superiority.The last chapter of the film, however, is nothing more than sheer magic as we experience the strength, the will, and love exhibited both by humans and robots alike, straining to survive.Wall-E is heart-wrenching, an eye-opener, important, and it's sweet innocence lingers long after you've left the theater. I could not fight my immediate emotional response to the film because we are living in a time where there is such a delicate balance between what could be and what will be. As Albert Einstein once said, "It is appallingly obvious that our technology exceeds our humanity." Wall-E poses the question: wouldn't it be better if our humanity exceeded our technology?

Left-Behind in Left-Field

Taken from my diary; written while waiting for my plane from Nairobi to Cairo: Shock. The only word to perfectly convey what I have felt over the last forty-eight hours. I never imagined that I'd be so deeply affected by the finale of my GAP adventure. When I signed up to trek across the African continent with a pack of strangers, I second-guessed my decision. I was fearful of traveling within a bubble. Two major cons to traveling in such a fashion are: firstly, that there is a barrier between yourself and the what you see. This barrier keeps one from full-immersion, or from totally abandoning ones defenses to allow a new culture or experience to go beyond the epidermal layer. The second reason being that personalities can over-power, tensions can rise, aggression is inevitable. I can safely say that we only experienced mild symptoms of both--and for that I am grateful. What a time. Two months of my life spent exactly as I'd like them to have been spent...happy. Saying goodbye to these people I didn't even know existed six weeks prior was a very difficult trial for me. In our bubble we bounced off one-another, held-close to one-another--were simply together. Six weeks of closeness with strangers and now I feel blessed to be able to call them friends. Our drop-off was quite a jolt to my emotional core. I'd not stopped to consider what the end would be like. I hypothesized, guesstimated, and imagined the possible scenarios of the end--but this proved to be mere fantasy, and not the true and real pain that saying goodbye came to be. I never expected to cry. I never expected a rushed hug, or a half-glance and a wave. I never expected to be winded, as if bludgeoned by a sledgehammer. I simply never expected. I considered. I dramatized. I imagined...but I never expected reality. The saving grace of this end was having Jen around until the very end. Being able to mourn together, ween-off together, and share a few more memories together allowed me to slowly acquiesce into detachment and switch from, 'goodbye,' to ' see you soon.' Here I am, now, sitting alone in a small, boring airport terminal. Faces flash in my mind--beating like light against the wings of a butterfly. Feelings are muddled. Fantasies are disrobing to reveal truth. Clarity. Clarity is near. Shock. The perfect word. Here I am, waiting to start all over again; left behind, the last to leave, with my feelings from left-field clenching tightly to my heart as the tidal wave pulls me further out to sea.

The Tip-to-Tip Trip: The Last Leg pt 1

Cairo. Dirty. Loud. Crowded. Beautiful. I love it here. Yes, I have been annoyed by touts, and beggars, and others of the sort. Yes, my boogers are black from the smog. And yes, I have received many a dirty look for my Hebrew tattoo--but alas, this place is great. I arrived early yesterday morning after spending an insane amount of time (10 hours) overnight at the Nairobi airport. I did this to save money and also to share a cab with my friend Jen. I am happy that I made that decision because psychologically it was as if we ended the trip together--as it was meant to have happened. Let me back up and speak on Nairobi for a bit. Nairobi was loud, dirty, crowded, etc...a little Cairo of sorts. Far less Muslim, but still the dirty looks. People were quite kind there, though rough around the edges. Few of us stayed behind more than one day. When our truck, Denver, entered the city we were bombarded by unspeakable traffic and looks of hatred from the people below. We deserved it, really. It took us longer than anticipated to arrive at the Boulevard Hotel, located next to Nairobi University. Quite a nice area, and campus. The Hotel was barred-off, and gated--guard with gun included, bombs sold separately. When the truck pulled into the drive-way, we realized that Ian, the Kiwi I'd spent my first night on the trip with at the Hotel Tulip, was sitting on the patio enjoying a beer. It really was a treat to see him, seeing as he'd left us mid-trip to join a group climbing Kilimanjaro. He recounted his story to us, and besides a nose-bleed and freezing cold, he said it was fantastic. Anyway, we pulled in and the moment the truck stopped, it was as if a bomb had exploded. People were going and grabbing bags, getting things together, rushing, rushing, rushing. Those of us staying at the hotel ushered into the lobby to secure our room keys and to put down our bags. An executive decision was made by our tour leader Elbie that they'd stick around for a while to have somewhat of a farewell dinner. Many people left straight away, with quick goodbyes. This Kiwi couple that I wish would fall into a well and never be found were some of those that left promptly. Good riddance. Following them were our friends Andy, Giselle, and Chris. This is where the boulder was dropped on our (Jen and I) chest. Seeing as how we'd made special connections with these people, it was too abrupt a moment to deal with--so tears came streaming from our eyes, and blubbering fools we became. We said our goodbyes, shared hugs, etc...but the feeling remained. There was a cloud on our farewell. In my opinion, we were robbed of a proper goodbye...and regret lingers like a confused ghost. Jen and I dropped our things in our room them went back down to have dinner. We shed tears every few minutes, then move on. Then we'd start up again, and again dry-out. This continued until our closest friends, Lauren and Katharine, departed. Our eyes, bloodshot and exhausted, squeezed the last drops possible from our eyes. These girls, of whom we are ten years their seniors (respectably), were true Spartans and held their own. We'll see them again very soon...of that I am sure of. After dinner, Jen and I went to bed with breakfast plans to meet up with Anita, Anders, Heather, and Sharine. We all met up at 9am for our free breakfast buffet, which was smackulicious. After that, I inquired about a city tour and off we were (Anita, Anders, Heather, Jen, and I) to explore the supposedly dangerous city of Nairobi. First, we went to the Kenyan Convention Center, and went to the top of the highest building in Nairobi to view the city panoramically. It actually has some very interesting architecture. We had our own private guide, and were the only Mzungu's (non-black people) around. Special. After this, I stopped at Western Union to pick-up some much needed money and we were off again to another market. We shopped for a while, but after the bargains we were used to in places like Malawi, and Zanzibar--this place was fucking Saks Fifth Ave. So we moved onto lunch. Lunch was a spectacle all its own. We made reservations at a famous restaurant called Carnivore. Apparently it's the best resto in town. Lord was the food there AMAZING!!! They first brought us towels to clean our hands, followed by Dawa's--a drink made with lime, honey, sugar, and vodka. D'lish. After this, we were given spiced butternut squash soup which was Divine. Then, we were brought a revolving platter with several dips. It was explained to us which dip/sauce went with which meat, and then we were given hot earthenware plates to begin. We were served a potato and bread, and then the meat began to come out on spits. First pork spare ribs, followed by chicken wings, then lamb, chicken breast, alligator, prime rib, and finally ostrich meatballs. There was a small flag atop the revolving platter that we were to drop once we'd had enough. It remained standing for about an hour =) When we felt our gluttony had met it's quota, we moved onto dessert. We shared an assortment of ice cream, and cheesecake. All of this for the low-low price of $35 a person. Pretty reasonable. I was more than impressed. After lunch, we returned to the hotel to say goodbye to our friends as they were headed to the airport in a cab together. No more tears, but loads of heavy hearts. Jen and I spent the remainder of the evening relaxing in our room, watching TV, a few more tears (but not many), had a small dinner, and chatted until our eyes shut. The next morning I canceled my last night at the hotel so that I could accompany Jen to the airport. The thought of remaining there alone was too much for me to bear. We had breakfast early, the we arranged to visit an elephant orphanage, animal orphanage at the Nairobi National Park, and the Giraffe Center. Again, we had our own personal driver and he was very good to us. The orphanage was a tourist trap. Yes, orphaned baby elephants are cute--but we couldn't even pet one. Boo. We did however get to pet the huge rhino. Logic? No, none of that. We did get to see something odd occur, however. We encountered a black cat sniffing out a horned chameleon. The chameleon wouldn't move, and it looked like the cat wasn't interested until...CRUNCH!!! Chameleon shishkabob for lunch. Hungry pussy got fed. Next we went to the Giraffe Center where we fed them snacks for about a half hour. We fed them pellets, and even fed them from our mouths. They may have leathery lips, but those tongues are nothing short of slimy. It was still badass. I pet the baby giraffe, and it's mother head-butt me. That was harsh. From here we went onto the animal orphanage where our driver managed to get us into the Cheetah cage so we could pet them. Their fur was coarse, and so were their tongues. They loved licking our palms though (tenderizing?). We were also able, with a tip, to go backstage and watch a baby lioness be fed raw meat and milk. We also got to hold her, but she was displeased with this. Cute as hell, though. Heavy, too. We returned to the hostel and had a nap by the pool. We talked more about the trip, and how it had affected us. After a late lunch, our driver David came to fetch us and we were on our way. With our luck, we were passed on the way to the airport by none other than the president of Kenya's motorcade. That's one way to leave a country =) At the airport we finally had to say goodbye, but not before making fun of some douche-bags sporting too much henna. Jen cried, and my heart sank--but I was just tapped out. I watched her turn to say goodbye to me, but I'd changed positions. She must have thought I left...but I was there. For the remainder of my ten hour wait, I read and slept. I barely touched my iPod, but I managed to shock a young, handsome British boy with the film Shortbus as he watched it over my shoulder (don't peak if you can't handle it, right?). The plane was ass. Egypt Air basically sucks. The food was good, but they showed us National Treasure 2. Boo. The plane was virtually empty, so we all got to lay down and sleep in our own rows. That was awesome. Flying into Cairo, I was able to see some of the Pyramids from the sky. That was an exciting thing to see and really shook me out of my funk. Once on land, I bought my visa, exchanged me money, and proceeded to fetch my luggage and find my driver. He was nowhere to be found. I was quite annoyed, but a man allowed me to phone my hotel on his mobile to find out what the problem was. Turns out they were there, but couldn't find me. I, being incredibly impatient, managed my own cab to the hotel. The man with the mobile wanted money. Here I thought he was being helpful. I told him to fuck off. My cab driver was really cool. He told me about his family, and what I should see while in Egypt. He also got me to the hotel safe and quickly in the horrendous traffic. Once at the hotel, I met up with the manager and he gave me a bottle of water and welcomed me. We talked tour, and I payed up: Day 2, all of the Pyramids surrounding Cairo/Giza, Day 3 Take a night train to Aswan and visit Abu Simbel, Day 4 travel by felucca boat for two days up to Luxor, Day 6 return to Cairo via night train. After this, I quickly changed and went across the street to Egyptian Museum; a collection of antiquities so poorly managed, I wanted to shoot myself. There was far too much to see, and not enough information. It was basically a crap shoot. I would call that museum "Old Rock City." I did, however, get to see the crown jewels of King Tut. Pretty incredible stuff. I'd missed them while they were in Los Angeles. That dude had to have been gay. He was far too fabulous. I got brave and took the metro to the Opera House, which didn't turn out to be as impressive as I'd been told. I chose to walk across the Nile back to the downtown area where I am staying and have a bite to eat. I had some chicken shawarma and an orange Fanta, then proceeded back to my accommodation to finally shower. What a sigh of relief to be clean. After this, I packed my bag for my trip south and followed up on e-mails. Then Ahmed, one of the workers here, asked me if I wanted to go to the train station with him to secure my tickets. I said sure. We took a cab to the area of the station, then proceeded to walk through a crowded mess of people, vendors, and cars. I am surprised I wasn't run-down by a car. We did stop, however, for a nice treat. He bought me a fruit cocktail with mango juice, and filled with sliced apples and bananas. It was refreshing. After we bought the tickets, he asked me if I'd buy him alcohol at the duty free shop with my passport. I thought it was a bold, and funny question--so I said, sure...why not? A taxi took us to the Sheraton where we made the transaction and he was most grateful. He promised to help me find a nice hookah with sheesha for about $20 before I go. We'll see. We arrived back and after some fussing around with my things in my room, I took two Valium and knocked out around 9pm. I am alone in a four-bed dorm, which is kinda nice. My shit is everywhere. No more tents to put up =) I was awakened by knocking on my door. To my shock, I had overslept and my driver, Sayid, had arrived at 5:30am to transport me to Giza. I dressed quickly, and we were off. We arrived at Giza and I could see the pyramids in the distance. He dropped me off at a stable where I paid for a guide to take me by camel to the pyramids and Sphinx. I was afraid at first, but got used to the camel. His name was Michael Jackson. My guide, Ahmad, was a handsome young student and knew his stuff. We came upon the pyramids and I was in awe. They truly are magnificent. I almost felt detached from the situation--it just didn't seem real. We took silly photos and continued on to the Sphinx and again--detachment. He allowed me to ride the horse back because I was having trouble with Michael Jackson. I am not a camel fan. Either way, it was an incredible experience. Sayid then took me to a papyrus store where I was basically sold something I didn't need for a reasonable price. He managed to sell to me in English, Spanish, French, and Italian--so I was stuck. The story behind the painting I bought is worth the 20 bucks, anyway. The vendor, apparently also named Oscar (my ass) showed me the process in which papyrus plants are made into paper. It consists of slicing strips, soaking in water to diminish the sugar content, then pounding with a mallet, then finally being pressed in a vice between layers of carpet. According to him, in the old days they used to have fat women sit on the strips for six days for two reasons: one, because fat chicks are heavy, and two, "their pussies absorbed the water." Yes, he said pussy to me. From here we went to visit two more pyramids, but only from the car. Basically, these pyramids are tourist traps. You can't go near them, and you can't go inside them--but you still have to pay. So we skipped them. We went onto the pyramids at Dahshur, and finally I entered a tomb. Going into a pyramid is claustrophobic and exciting all at once. It smelled like paint thinner and mold inside. There was really nothing to see, but just being in there and imagining what it must have been like to construct it was worth the sore knees and back to crawl in. I told Sayid I was hungry, so he drove me to a nice shishkabob place, where I paid $10 for a million plates of food. That was so well worth it. Egyptian food = delicious. After brunch, we drove back, taking photos along the way and joking about reggeaton music. It's pretty big here. Sayid was definitely a class guy. He offered to drive me to Alexandria in a few days. I may take him up on that. As he would say after every awkward moment, "welcome to Egypt." Now I am back at my lovely hotel, the Paris Hotel. It is definitely a hostel, but a hostel with class and style. I needed a place like this after roughing it for six weeks. The beds here are magic, and on that note--I'm going to go take a pussy nap. Maybe I'll absorb some water. I am as dehydrated as the Sahara.