IN THE CIRRRRRCCCLLEEE....THE CIRCLE OF....LIIIIIIFFFFEEEE

I just sat on a beach to watch the sun set in all its Lion King Circle-of-Life-like glory. I think that officially means I’m on vacation. Let’s roll it back to September 30th when my trip technically began…

The flights to Australia treated me as kindly as 24 hours in sardine class could treat one. I struggle every vacation with the amount of valuables I bring and the onset panic attacks when I realize I don’t know where my handful of valuables are at all times. Even with just one carry-on, I’m constantly fretting over where my wallet, camera, mp3 player, video camera, laptop, etc. are at all times. So it comes to no surprise (if you know me) that at the LAX stopover, I left my Zune on the plane upon debarking. Luckily, I was paged and reunited with it before re-departure. Eights hours into my trip before my first crisis is actually pretty good for me.

The 13+ hour leg to Sydney was surprisingly ok as well. It helped that I was in front of the galley, so I could lean back without feeling guilty. I always feel guilty when I lean back my seat, but not when I lean back in da’ clubs, yafeelme? No multiplayer airplane games like my Europe trip, but there was a great selection of movie and tv shows from Qantas. I started The Hangover, but lost interest (man card revoked, I know), and mostly stuck to alternately burning out the Daniel Merriweather album available for listening and watching British tv series. I found the Vietnam special of Top Gear enthralling. And I watched about a half season of The I.T. Crowd (verdict: cheesy but funny).

Somewhere early in the Sydney to Darwin leg was where I went crazy from being in the air so long. The dry eyes, lack of sleep, lack of legroom and lack of personal space finally broke me. What really did it was the fact that this flight had plenty of open seats (rare in this day and age), but I got still got stuck with a full row. Oh, and I think a woman was dying on the plane, as a doctor was paged. I went back to use the bathroom later in the flight and saw the passenger doctor administering shots to a real sickly-looking woman. Jet lag caused extreme apathy at her situation. I couldn’t help to wonder who was having a worse flight, me or her. At least if she died, she would’ve gotten some good sleep, AND she did get the whole back row to herself…jealous… (note: she was fine).

A LONG 6-7 hours laters, I was on the ground in Darwin, all 35+ celsius of it. What many maps fail to properly represent is the size of Australia. It’s actually about the width and length of the U.S. or Western Europe. So a flight to Darwin is like a flight from JFK to Seattle.

Checked into Dingo Moon Lodge and found I was rooming with Matt, a German fellow traveling on holiday after just graduating. I would later meet Pinky and David, a Taiwanese girl with only rudimentary English understanding and an older (like 30) Scottish guy, who had been staying and I think traveling together in Darwin looking for work to get their holiday visa extended. They were attempting to be fruit pickers.

Matt and I went to Mindil Beach because I wanted to see the sunset markets. This was like a farmer’s market on crack, insane amounts of Asian food stalls, a whip stall (with expert demonstrations), digeridoo concerts, and all sorts of local crafts and goods. One stall was called the Roadkill Cafe, and they pandered to all the tourists who wanted to try “exotic” Australian meats. I bit and bought a Croc kebab. Tastes like chicken, just really rubbery.

The icing on the cake was the sunset. Watching the fiery red sun set below the sea line with no clouds or anything to obstruct the view while eating greasy Asian food from a stall on a beach was a spectacularly zen experience and a great end to the day. Apparently, this happens daily in the dry season in Darwin. I’m extremely jealous.

Later that night, the Matt and I joined Pinky and David to have some beers and discuss our wanderlust, fruit picking, and my lack of vacation days. It felt like those first nights in college when everyone and everything was new and exciting. I’m happy my trip started so effortlessly, social-wise. It’s a little disappointing I leave for a tour tomorrow morning and can’t get to know them more, but they should still be around when I get back three days later.

Near Death Experiences

This is a new feature I’m introducing for Australia edition since I’m on my own and no one is around to prevent my mishaps. The amount of stories I’m sure I will accumulate on this topic probably warrants its own section.

Today’s near death experience was actually my first steps onto Australian soil. The airport shuttle bus had conveniently dropped me right across the street from Dingo Moon Lodge. Having not quite grasped that Australians drive on the other side of the road and what that meant, I looked LEFT, saw nothing, and started crossing the street. Next thing i remember was some swerving, honking, screaming, and mild embarrassment. Note to self, look RIGHT first (note from Future Mike: I never quite grasped this concept until about the last day, which now leads to problems at home).

I don’t have a crystal ball, but I’m sure this section will only get better as the days go by.

Before I leave you totally hanging, here is a letter I wrote while out in the Kakadu wilderness. Call it one of my patented over-exaggerations if you wish, but, trying not to sound cliche, you had to be there…

Open Letter to the Flies of Kakadu National Park,

Dear Flies of Kakadu National Park,

My name is Mike, and I have never loathed an entire genus of insects as much as I loathe you, all 1000 unique species of you flies. I don’t know how things work in Australia, but here in the States, we have something called “personal space.” You seem to have no concept of that unwritten rule us humans abide to, as you attempted many, many, many…MANY times to say hello by flying into my eardrums, mouth, and weirdly but most annoyingly, my eyelids. Now, this is barely justifiable if it happens one time. Maybe you were drunk and thought I was attractive and wanted to make out with me. Fine, I get that a lot. But you didn’t stop. Not only did you not stop, you brought an entire posse to also join and constantly ram into all parts of my body and orifices.

NO MEANS NO! Not “Yes, may I have some more, and why don’t you bring your entire extended family to have their turn raping me too…” Yeah, I went there. It might not be politically correct, but I was violated to my very soul by all of you. The lingering scars of what you have done to me will remain for a long time, if not forever. You are the reason why I have to add a disclaimer when I describe how breathtakingly beautiful your home was. And any buzzing I hear, either from your own kind or something as common as the laundry machine, now causes me to have sudden nervous emotional breakdowns. I wish it was possible to sue you.

As a creature of habit, there are a few things I always do to get ready for any trip, long or short, far away or close by.

1) I get a new book. I can’t travel without a new book to read, whether I end up reading it or not. It just doesn’t feel like a trip without one. Long car rides or plane rides or waiting for long car rides or plane rides are ideal situations to whip out a paperback and keep myself occupied. Also great for when I feel anti-social, which is almost always. Also great for dining by yourself without looking like a total fool. One thing I like to do is whenever I travel abroad, I try to get at least one book on the region/country/culture I’m visiting. This time, it’s In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson and Vagabonding by Rolf Potts. Clearly, I’m still working through my travel bug this year…

2) Pack the night before/morning of. To pack any sooner only means that the anguish I feel at realizing I forgot my toothbrush is that much more agonizing. And no, I’m still going to forget it…

3) I don’t sleep. This isn’t typically by choice. For someone who lives such a boring life, work and personal deadlines always find their way to the days leading up to a trip. This also explains #2.

4) Tell everyone. Because I truly believe they care, even if they tell me differently. Why do you think I have this blog?

5) Get a Moleskine. This is one of those irrational purchases because I fall for the marketing that I’ll look hipster and feel like Hemingway if I have one. But for an overpriced stack of paper, they do make me feel pretty hipster and like Hemingway. And they travel amazingly well and are great for sketching, notes, doodling, and capturing random memories, lists, and experiences. It’s not like I can whip out my laptop everywhere.

Of course you didn’t, you barely know I have a blog.

Well, there’s plenty of random-ass videos being uploaded in an inconsistent basis. Plenty of vacation videos (long overdue, as usual) and plenty of random other videos from my weekends and things I find interesting enough to point my Kodak Zi6 at.

And if that wasn’t enough to convince you, plenty of embarrassing video of myself.

So what are you waiting for? View my videos here

Here’s an example:

“Oh look! Dead chickens!” from Mike Nguyen on Vimeo.

Here’s a fun fact on hunger pangs (I always thought it was hunger pains. It would be definitely more fitting.)

“When hunger contractions start to occur in the stomach, these are commonly referred to as hunger pangs. Hunger pangs usually do not begin until 12 to 24 hours after the last ingestion of food. A single hunger contraction lasts about 30 seconds, and pangs continue for around 30–45 minutes, then hunger subsides for around 30-150 minutes.[2] Individual contractions are separated at first, but are almost continuous after a certain amount of time.[2] Emotional states (anger, joy etc.) may inhibit hunger contractions.[2] Levels of hunger are increased by lower blood sugar levels, and are higher in diabetics.[2] They reach their greatest intensity in 3 to 4 days and may weaken in the succeeding days, though hunger never disappears.[3] Hunger contractions are most intense in young, healthy people who have high degrees of gastrointestinal tonus. Periods between contractions increase with old age.[2]” – Wikipedia

I guess it’s because today is another Sunday where I should be finishing up my classwork. Actually, it’s my last module of schoolwork for a while. I’m taking the fall semester off in order to work on my thesis proposal and go to Australia. The joy of travel…

My parents disappeared for most of the evening yesterday, and I made some tortellini, a staple of when I lived alone. It brought me back to a happy place. It’s the first meal I’ve made for myself in a long while. I miss cooking.

I watch a lot of Food Network. I know I’m probably not the right demographic for the channel, but I’m hooked. I find chefs to be total rock stars. Maybe I should consider a career change. BTDubs, I think Melissa will win Next Food Network Star, if it matters. Calling it.

Someone that SHOULD be on Food Network is Sam the Cooking Guy. I love his show on FitTV (yes, I watch FitTV, deal with it) and wish I lived in the San Diego area to see his regular local show. His recipes are simple but delicious, and he’s a fun guy to watch.

Also, Julia Childs is right. French cuisine is the best there is.

If you are what you eat, then maybe what I want to eat is a good indicator of what I want to be? Below are some of the recipes I’m dying to follow when I finally move out and get my own kitchen again.

• Lobster Mac and Cheese
• Fried Chicken, like the KFC/Popeyes shit. Yes, I would kill to know the Colonel’s secret recipe
• Spaghetti Carbonara I don’t get enough pasta in my life. I’m craving olive oil. Is that weird?
• Bacon Wrapped Sea ScallopsSam has convinced me scallops are simple and tasty enough to try. Never really had it before.

Well, this helped my hunger a little bit. Off to either do homework or further raid the fridge.

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Instant Gratification of the Week

So I got a Palm Pre on Thursday. I know it’s only been out a week but…FINALLY. I was hoping to get it opening day last Saturday, but I was in Baltimore and the Best Buy I went to sold out on the phone within 30 minutes. I was so distraught, I bought the Sims 3. This made me feel good (and reclusive) for about four days, and then I finally got the Palm Pre. Now, it’s like having a plate of fish-n-chips a plate of steak-and-fries in front of me. I can’t handle eating both, but I don’t want to choose between the two.

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What I Should Be Doing Right Now

Due to my new phone, I’ve been trying to organize my Gmail and contacts. Getting a Palm phone inspired me to get organized for the upcoming semester and my own sanity. I spent yesterday transferring over my phone numbers, and realized how many people I’ve lost contact with. Sad.

I’m still not done archiving and filtering all my emails. I have 400 emails just sitting in my inbox waiting to be sorted. I get bored and nostalgic after cleaning out 10 or so emails, so it’s back to play with my phone or The Sims.

Also, I failed miserably at revising my thesis proposal. This is going to bite me in the ass almost immediately.

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And Two More Things

I don’t know why The Sims 3 is getting horrible reviews on Amazon. It’s amazingly fun, but I think people are having issues that it isn’t full blown Sims 2 + 10,000 expansion packs yet. The object selection does kind of suck at the moment, and EA is nickel-and-diming users for additional content, but what else is new. The game is still incredibly fun.

Also, I’m not going to even advocate for the Palm Pre. Everyone can get that new iPhone 3GS on AT&T, because nothing I say will dissuade their misconceptions of Sprint or a Palm phone. I like going against the grain anyways. This phone is amazing, and it has potential to be even greater even on its first iteration. I hope it takes off and I can look like the innovator. If I were to say one thing, Multi-tasking applications is worth every penny. Suck it, Apple fanboys.

Stunning little canals, colorful townhomes, quiet, desolate cobblestone streets, and lots of chocolate. Every 100 paces or so in this town could go on a postcard.

We never really intended to go see Bruges, but Brussels was a bit of a bust. On a suggestion that Bruges was a must-see, I pushed for Plan B to only minor resistance (Ezeibe wanted to stay in, relax, and use the internet…no comment). Our Brussels hotel, Le Meridien, was conveniently right across the street from the local train station. Even better, there was a train promotion that got us round trip tickets to Bruges for 8euros each. Huzzah for cheap daytrips!

The train ride to the countryside was pretty spectacular. I didn’t get a seat in the crowded cabins, so I hung out by the doors feeling like a stowaway. I didn’t even bother taking a seat when some became available. Just me and lots of green grass, small village rooftops, an occasional windmill, and European countryside whizzing by. Pretty great.

When we got to Bruges, it was just a day of strolling. It’s great when there are no expectations of a place, and you can just explore. We just wandered aimlessly (surprise) and got lost amongst the cobblestone streets and small parks. No one minded a bit. Bruges was utterly charming. The canals were smaller, but just as stunning as Amsterdam’s. Nothing is big and pretentious here. Long lines and plenty of people about shopping those post-Christmas sales in the boutiques and in the Christmas markets, but still, it never felt all that crowded to me.

Nothing like a stroll down a canal to lighten the mood

You know a place a is pretty romantic when there are horse-drawn carriages on cobblestone and brick.

Zeebs and Alan have an epic chess match.

The canal bridges are worth the visit alone

The Good:
- The three of us, after being fairly thrifty thus far, practically bought out a small chocolate shop. The prices seemed reasonable and Ezeibe brought up a good point: Who doesn’t love chocolate? It was the perfect gift to bring home. We tallied up close to a 100euro bill each on chocolate. I ended up eating most of mine before giving it to my friends. So if you never got a souvenir from me, now you know. The owner was awesome, claimed he ate chocolate every day, with every meal. I kind of worried for his teeth, but his passion for chocolate only led me to buy more chocolate. In comparison, there were some super fancy chocolate shops we passed that wouldn’t even allow you in the store without dropping 50euros on their chocolate.
- Besides the chocolate, all the other food we had in Bruges was amazing too. 2euro frites. Might have been the tastiest fries yet, and definitely the cheapest we had come across. I also made Alan and Ezeibe stop everything to order a bratwurst dog in the Christmas market. Every bite was orgasmic. It rivaled the first dinner in France. Ezeibe ended up eating half of it, which annoyed me greatly. He should know that my definition of sharing is 80/20.

The Bad:
- Locals would be crazy to be in the medieval section of town during the day. The tourists literally run rampant through the village. It kind of felt like we were just going through an outdoor museum of sorts, as there were no signs of local life. Just tourists and out-of-towners.

Beautiful houses, but anyone home?

- Going back from the train station, we got back with some time to spare before our train departed. So we grab a seat in the station lobby and rest our feet. Not smart. When we got to the train platform, the train was already packed in with people who were smart enough to wait in the platform rather than the lobby.
- There’s a belfry tower in the middle of Bruges, but we decided the line was too long and too expensive to go up. I still kind of regret that. I think the view would’ve been spectacular.
- Alan and Ezeibe didn’t let me go ice skating in the Christmas Market.

No ugly from Bruges. It was the perfect way to spend our last day.

We got back with a whole evening to enjoy. Ezeibe and I decided to spend even more money and buy more chocolate by our hotel. You can never have enough chocolate.

Hot choco by the Brussels chocolate shop. I'll take a Venti please.

Our last supper would ironically be at a Vietnamese/Thai restaurant. We kind of just wandered into Vietnamtown part of Brussels while searching for another restaurant and just ended up there. Ezeibe wanted to get back quickly to watch a documentary on world religions (don’t ask). My parents would’ve been pleased. We ordered off the prix-fixed menu and had another minor paella incident when Alan and I thought a 3-course meal for two people meant we were splitting the cost of the meal, which was reasonable. Instead, it meant, we were both paying the cost listed on the menu. Alan and I were not pleased. I also remember dessert taking a ridiculously long time, because I think they forgot about us, but it was still delicious.

Ezeibe had left halfway through dinner to try to catch his documentary. It turns out he got the time wrong and it didn’t even start for another hour or something. Alan and I got drinks at our English pub we found the other day and watched some European football. I again tried to convince Alan to do karaoke at said pub, but we didn’t quite know where it was going on (turns out it was in the building next door) so we joined Ezeibe and his documentary.

We packed ourselves up and got an early night’s sleep, because tomorrow, after 16 days of traveling together, we were finally going home! And you had no idea how exciting of a prospect that was.

And another train station, another debacle. You see, it doesn’t matter that we got there a full hour before the train departed at 8AM (quite an accomplishment after last night’s New Year’s). Why? Because I had forgotten to pick up our tickets in France. You know, when we nearly missed the train to Amsterdam.

I pre-ordered our tickets in France, which meant we could only pick it up there. This dawned on me as the ticket machine failed on me once again. The lady manning the ticket counter expressed her sympathies, but I still had to purchase three new tickets at full price. Ouch. She offered to book tickets to the train leaving in two minutes. The thought bubbles rose from my head of the last time we tried to catch a train with only two minutes and I refused. I didn’t tell Alan or Ezeibe of this oversight until a good week after the trip out of shame.

Brussels got off to a bad start, when the three of us spent a good half an hour trying to figure out how to get to the hotel. Alan believed we could walk. I thought a metro would be more fitting. Ezeibe wanted to get a cab. Ezeibe won out, and it was a good decision, as the hotel was miles away from the train station. In the process, Ezeibe accused Alan of being a racist while cab driver and I stared at each other uncomfortably.

We stayed at a Starwood Le Meridien hotel in the heart of the tourist area. Great location, fancy hotel, except I booked the room for two instead of three (I actually had no choice). I was too chicken to ask for an extra cot because of our reservation thinking that I might get charged more. I volunteered to sleep on the floor the remainder of the trip because the other two were too diva about their sleeping arrangements.

Unfortunately, almost everything was closed because it was the day after New Year’s. Hungry from traveling, we basically chose the first restaurant that sold food. It ended being a big but cramped cafe that served delicious Belgian waffles and frites. The Belgians, much like the Dutch, know how to make fries. I can’t stress how much I miss them.

The streets were definitely quieter, and that silence had its own charms. We saw Royal Palais, the big plaza with these insanely ornate facades surrounding it. Behind those facades, nothing really struck our fancy or was closed.

Alan snaps a few picks of Royal-Palais. This square is the definition of ornate.

And therein lies our issue. After seeing two amazing cities with spectacular scenic views and cultural museums, Brussels really couldn’t measure up. I think we would have been more impressed if we started off here, but by Day 15, it was simply charming, not really cathartic.

If you ever go to Brussels, you will inevitably go to the pissing statue, Mannekin-Pis. I can tell you to no end that it is a huge disappointment, but you will still go. It happened to me, it will happen to you. The issue is that Brussels markets Mannekin-Pis to all get out, that you’re brainwashed into believing that this tiny fountain is a must-see. Only in Brussels can a statue smaller than a bedside lamp of a little boy peeing can be a major tourist draw. It’s an interesting case study on how to attract stupid tourists, I’m sure.

Unofficial slogan: No, really, that's it. Now go buy a keychain.

Really, that’s all we saw. We chilled in a cool bookstore/record shop for a bit, thought about going to a beer museum, but otherwise, we were scratching our heads what to do next. Ezeibe’s answer was charging my hotel room with 20€ internet. My and Alan’s answer was to drink at the local Irish pub a few blocks away. That pub was awesome because of their strong Belgian beers, European football matches, and the fact that karaoke happens most evenings. No, we didn’t go to karaoke. Yes, I regret it.

For dinner, we ate at Le Cap, on the recommendation of the concierge. Apparently, it was a pretty trendy restaurant that served local Belgian cuisine at a very reasonable price. We all walked out of dinner fairly pleased with the recommendation. Ezeibe even tried a mojito.

It’s official. My next big vacation adventure is to Australia. I had talked it up this to the point of either committing or ruining friendships and credibility. And so, I pulled the trigger last night. $922 from NYC to SYD on Qantas. You got to admit, that’s a pretty stellar deal.

I still have a LOT more planning to do, money to spend, and tours/hotels/passes to book before I take off. And I got plenty of time, I’m not leaving until October, but the anticipation of knowing that I’ll be halfway around the world will keep my eyes on the prize for the rest of the year. One week by myself (not really) in the Outback, one week with Adriane in Tasmania. More or less.

Fun fact I learned: Australia is about the same size as the US. You would never think so on a map, but I’m learning that I will be spending a LOT of time on planes this time around.

Not worth saying anymore on this blog until I actually go, but get pumped. If this blog falls off the face of the earth for the next few months, I’ll at least have something come October.

Now if I can only finish documenting this Europe trip before then…