Bodhi Bum

Now a lot has been said about China and I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I was actually nervous landing at Pudong airport and going through immigration. I had this strange idea that they would realize that I wasn’t really here on just a leisure trip as I had checked off on my landing form, and as they would place agents to track my whereabouts in the city they would realize that I was doing business work and would sentence me for espionage, execute me and send the bill for the bullet to my poor, grieving parents.

Now that I’m sitting in the airport here at Pudong airport on my way out of China (and trying painfully to kill six hours of waiting before my flight departs) I now realize the folly of my misconceptions on this country. It really is a great country and not anything like it is portrayed in the West. I think Westerners have this warped idea of China as being some kind of militaristic police state where the people aren’t free to speak or do a thing, except maybe spend their time making cheap trinkets and stealing white people’s jobs. But truth is Shanghai is an amazing city and the Chinese are great. Even the police here are great. Friday night we stumbled out of the club on MaoMing road and ran directly into a group of about ten police in full gear, and they started laughing and helped us up and helped hail a cab for the drunk westerners and directed the cabby where we were going. The city itself is incredible just for the amount of construction and highrises springing up. You can see why they say China is taking over the world. Being here you can really believe it. It’s a beautiful city with some of the most amazing high-rises, with a couple far better than anything New York has to offer. The restaurant scene is pretty good, and the bar scene is a lot of fun, much better than any Western city I’ve been to.

But the downsides are there as well, most of them being just personal dislikes. Number one being the pollution. My god, even on a clear day there is a perpetual smog hanging over the city and it is so noticeable that it’s almost like a weight bearing down on you and blocking out the sun, which affects the whole mood of the city itself. Even a hot, sunny day doesn’t really feel the bright and cheery. Number two would be the language issue. I’ve found this in Tokyo as well, as both these countries are extremely inward looking. Normally this isn’t an issue as most people in most countries speak at least a little English. But not here. I had to carry a map with me at all times as even the common sense things like saying “Hilton Hotel” to a taxi driver is useless. For some inexplicable reason, “Hilton” is translated into Chinese as She Ra Do. I though they were saying “Sheradon” hotel for a while, and after taking two hours at four in the morning to find my hotel I carried a map at all times after that and just pointed. But more importantly, the girls don’t speak English. Nothing. I found this amazing place on MaoMing Road called BabyFace which you would think having an English name would have people who spoke English. But no such luck. Not even the bartenders speak English. Good thing JD & Coke is universal in all languages. But you have absolutely no idea how frustrating it is to have a room full of gorgeous Chinese dolls all stealing glances at you but without the ability to have a conversation it ain't going nowhere. Girls who are on the hunt for a boyfriend don't put much stock in a purely physical relationship. However, there are always exceptions to the rule and we'll just leave it at that for now on such a public forum.

So work got extended out until Friday since I had to wait on some documents from a missing manager and I decided to take the weekend on my own to explore the city further. So I switched out of the Hilton and spent Saturday night on my own dollar at a cheaper hotel. Hit a few new places and met up with a couple of Canadian contractors from Chatham on Saturday who were working in Shanghai. Funny thing is, all these guys would drink is Canadian Club. If the bar didn't have CC, then they weren't sticking around. I had to translate a few times from Rye and Coke, to Whiskey and Coke.

So Sunday I went to the airport by 3pm and killed about 8.5 hours in the Business Lounge waiting for my 11:30pm flight. 5 hours late I was back in Singapore, straight to the ferry terminal and on the first 6:30am ferry bound for Bintan, Indonesia. I figured why waste miy own money on expensive Singapore hotel when I could get four nights there for the same price as one here. But my Indonesia tale is to be continued at another time.

Bodhi

Well, I’ve just got to say that this last week has got to be the one of the strangest weeks on record for me. Not for the number of countries I’ve touched down in (which was 4 - Indonesia, Singapore, Japan, China) which isn’t all that unusual for me. And not for the actual work (which was pretty standard one-day audits). It’s just one of those times when you suddenly find yourself looking around with a moment of clarity and thinking, how the hell did I get here?

That moment for me was Monday morning, 9:55am, fresh off the red-eye in from Singapore, half asleep in wrinkled dress clothes, and finding myself bowing stupidly and repeatedly to 12 Japanese businessmen in $1,000 designer suits in the company boardroom who all seem to be playing how low can you go as they present me their business cards. Japanese business men don’t just bow once, they kind of bob up and down as they hold out their cards to you at arms length like they are offering up a gift to the Gods. My first mistake was bowing lower than him, and the poor guy started a game of Limbo, bobbing up and down until he was practically on his knees with staring down at the ground. Now that truly does something for the ego when I’m standing in wrinkled dress pants and shirt, no tie and no suit jacket, and these guys are wearing more money than I’m going to make on this whole contract and bowing to me like I’m the Emperor of Japan. However, my crowning moment was when everyone finally had a chance to give me their business card and sit down, I smoothly pull my laptop out of my bag and out comes my socks and underwear along with it. Twelve Japanese businessmen, me, and my underwear on the boardroom table. I think that’s when the epiphany hit. What the hell and am I doing here?

That really was a strange, strange day. On a normal audit, you go to the site, meet the manager in charge, and get stuck in some out of the way room to do your work. But not in Japan. No way. I should have clued in when my contact who picked me up at Yokohama City Airport Terminal told me that this company was a very traditional Japanese company. Nothing could have prepared me


for that though. I figured that the 12 Japanese businessmen who put on such a formal spectacle of greeting would go their own way while I got down to doing the audit. But no chance. When I ask to begin the walkthrough of the site, they all dutifully rise and off we go, all 13 of us, traipsing through the building. Now many times I wish I had a camera, but this was something truly special and worthy of saving for posterity. There’s me with 12 Japanese suits trailing behind like the Pied Piper. Every time I come to a door and turn around, they all stop and bow and won’t move or stand up until I’ve gone through. I swear I could have stood there for an hour and not walked through the door and they would not have budged an inch or looked up. So for almost two hours me and my band of merry Suits made our way through the building while I asked the questions, and waited while they did their best to translate into semi-coherent English. But in all fairness, even though the Japanese seem to be space-aliens in terms of the amount of formality and ritual they go through, I’ve gotta say that no one even comes close to these people in terms of efficiency and design.

You should have seen this building. It was straight out of a sci-fi movie. It was built three years ago and houses the data centres for companies all around the Tokyo area. The building is pure minimalist and totally automated. The whole thing is run by a mainframe that actually talks to and recognizes all the employees by sight and speech patterns. I forgot to swipe my visitors badge at one of the doors and at the next one it actually got angry with me and started jabbering away in angry sounding Japanese and wouldn’t let me through. But after twenty minutes of being there I started to wonder why they even sent me there to do the audit. This place was audit proof. Everything I asked for, two or three of them would go scurrying away and be back in two minutes with the documents copied and indexed. I’m used to getting some lame excuse and vague promise to get back to you. But overall it was a little much and to be honest it was more than a little intimidating being faced down by a horde of business men who despite bowing to you in an embarrassing show of respect, you know that it is purely a cultural ritual and you can’t help but wonder what they really think of this completely out of place foreigner they’ve been told to clear their schedules for. By the time it was over I was more than glad to get the hell out of there.

But the show going was even better than the coming. They lined up all at the front door and started their bouncing bows again and didn’t stop until I was out the door and in the car. Or so I thought. When I turned around a good full minute after we left the parking lot and were pulling out onto the highway I looked back and there they all were, still lined up and still bowing away. For all I know there still there at it. Strange, strange day.

But the fun wasn’t over yet, even though I seriously needed some sleep. My colleague drove me into Tokyo and dropped me off at the Hilton in Shinjuku. I dropped my stuff off and headed right back out to find my way on the subway to the next audit site in Tokyo. Of course I didn’t have any cash so I had to find an ATM. No problem there, as there’s dozens of ATM’s in Shinjuku station. Only problem is they only take Japanese cards. So after two hours of running around the station and trying every bank in the area, I finally grab a cab back to the hotel and get directed to the Post Office of all places which has an internation ATM. That problem solved, so I manage to get to the next audit site and complete that with no issues.

Now that last time I stayed in Tokyo was just over a year ago when I was here on my own. It was my first time here and I stayed in the Shinjuku area at that time as well. But my accommodation was a little more modest as all I could afford was to live in a Capsule Hotel. Now it was an experience, but one I don’t quite want to repeat ever again. This time I was staying in the Hilton International and at $195 USD a night a little bit of a step up on the social ladder. My room was on the 32nd floor and as I opened my window and looked out over the Tokyo skyline at night it was an exact duplicate scene out of Lost in Translation. It’s funny how sometimes life mirrors the movies, but you don’t get any closer than that. The whole feeling of living in a big lonely hotel in a big lonely city, just that kind of twinge of sadness that comes across so well in the movie is a really strange experience to so accurately come across almost like déjà vu your own life.


I couldn’t resist getting up late and going down to the bar (unfortunately, this hotel’s bar was one the ground floor and not the top) for a drink. Sitting there alone sipping on my Suntory,… er, I mean my JD and coke and listening to the red hair (no joke) lounge singer was a little too strange so I just went to bed. I swear I got a smile from the singer as I was walking out of the bar, but as I hadn’t slept in 48 hours I wasn’t about to play the Bill Murray pick up act.

The next day I worked from the hotel room and caught my flight out to Shanghai at 6:30pm.

Just a quick entry here to get some pics up and posted for posterity. It's a Sunday morning here in sunny, muggy Singapore and it's about 35 degrees out there or whereabouts. Me I'm currently sitting in my nice air conditioned hotel room trying to get some work done here so I don't have to kill myself with 12 hour days at work next week trying to wrap this contract up in time. But damn it's hard to concentrate on work when the sun is shining, people are down by the pool below my window swimming and tanning, and there's just so much in this city to see and do. But after this quick entry I'm off to see China Town to do some cheap shopping, then over to Sentosa island to check out the beaches and touristy sights. And probably finish the day at Boat Quay looking out over the River and enjoying a nice dinner and bottle of red. Boat Quay has to be seen to be believed. About two hundred mini restaurants all along the length of the river serving every type of cuisine you can imagine. And, like everywhere else in Singapore, it's amazingly beautiful and spotlessly clean.

This country/state/city is really an amazing place. It's got the best of Asia with the best of the West. You have hundreds of these food courts done the Asian way all around the city, each with dozens of food stalls where the food is $2 Singapore, which is like 60 Pence. Cheap as dirt, and the food is amazing. There there are hundreds of real restaurants. It's an amazing city and I could easily see being based out of a place like this. It's by far the cleanest, most beautiful, safest and probably one of the most fun cities I've every been in. And I've been in a lot. And it's only an hour and half flight from my condo in Thailand. It would be a nice place to be based out of, too bad the local wages are a lot lower than the UK. If I could get a good long contract here making pounds then that would be the ideal. Moving here and working locally for local wages is never an option. Who knows, maybe one day when money is not so much an issue.

As for yesterday and the point of these ramblings, I did my official duty as third generation Melis and kept the Raffles tradition alive and kicking. I made my pilgrimage to the Raffles Hotel in Singapore, just as my Uncle did, and my Grandpa did before.

Hey all, it's been a long while now since I've last posted and force fed the mass public on my life story. But the usual excuses apply. Busy as hell and no time to take a breather to write down what's been happening. Life as usual.

Last time I wrote I was Nordic stranded in the land of Finland. Since then I've crossed the world and back, bidding the orders of the higher ups. They command and I jump, across the Atlantic and back it turns out. From Finland I caught good ol' Lufhtansa and enjoyed German hospitality over to London, then switched to the friendly British tea and biscuits service over to Washington on BA, and then United over to Providence, Rhode Island. It was nice to be back in the US, but to be honest after spending so much time in Asia and Europe, the US was a bit of a culture shock. I haven't had to drive a car in so long now that getting to the airport in Providence, I found out my license was expired and unlike Europe, you just can't take a taxi wherever you want to go. And talk about patriotism. Damn, they got American flags

It was too damn cold to do more than take a pic and get back on the bus.flying everywhere, and they're all ten feet wide. No joke. I lived in New York for three years and thought I was living in America. Now take a trip through New England and that's a whole other world. But I made it to Franklin, MA, eventually.

Anyways, Franklin came and passed, then came Pittsburgh, PI for another week and then on to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Now there is a city which burst my bubble on boring old America. I leave strip malls, Walmarts and 20 acre parking lots, fly over the Rockies and touch down in the Wild West. Adobe homes, native americans and burrito stands as far as you can see. And I got to rediscover the great american tradition of renting a car, driving out into the desert, getting lost, and.. well, after that it kinda sucked. But I managed to find my way back and by the next Sunday onto the plane, and back cross Atlantic to Paris. To be honest I couldn't clear customs fast enough.

From Paris I had to grab le TGV (le Train to Grande Vitesse, or the Fast Train for you French challenged people) over to the french country town of Nantes for the week. It was a beautiful old French town and a great week working in Saint Herblain, the next town over. The lady my team was working with was a British expat who left the UK 15 years before and never looked back. She had made a great new life in France and helped smooth out the language difficulties. Myself I'm obviously from french heritage and it was one of the best experiences of my recent travels to be able to come to a country and be able to actually converse in the local language. I'm so used to having to stumble in English and hope people understand, but to be able to speak the local language is amazing. My two team members are both American and don't know a word of French. So I was the interpreter, and it was really surprising experiencing the reception the french people actually gave me. I always came up thinking that the french didn't like french canadians, but I was amazed at how the french would totally take to me once they found out I was canadian with quebecois heritage. And it's amazing that after not speaking it so long, how quickly it comes back. At the start of the week I was very awkward speaking, but by the weekend in Paris I was not even thinking about what I was saying. It was coming natural. It's amazing how great the feeling is to be walking around Paris and speaking like a Parisien.

Anyways, I had to leave Paris this morning and catch my flight to Amsterdam. Landed this afternoon by around noon and caught the train back to Breda, about a one and a half hour ride away. If you want to know where I'm currently at, take a look at the map of the Netherlands on the bottom right hand corner of your screen, find Eindoven in the south-east corner of the country, and I'm in a city about 1 centimeter above that. I'm here until Wednesday, then catching the train back to Amsterdam for the night, then fly back to London on Thursday. Busy life, but it could be worse I guess.

Bodhi

So another day, another dollar. And so the world turns. And so goes the crazy days of my life.

Another week finished, another country conquered. Another whole wack of frequent flyer miles to my name. And where, pray tell, does this fine Saturday find me in the great wild world. Well, I know last week I said that I was domestically bound within Germany to the fine city of cheese. Make that Bremen. But as things turn out, and plans get dashed by the powers that be, life doesn’t always go according to plan.

So this week I’m Finnish. Or Finished as the clever Finish people like to play with their puns. What was the response to my innocent question today at lunch, of “Are you Finished?”. Nothing other than “Yes, I am Finish. Where are you from?”. The table of Finns seemed to get quite the kick out of that clever bit of word-play. I think my lack of enthusiasm offended them somewhat.

So I’m back in Helsinki, if you haven’t caught on by now. To recap my week and give some idea of how things go around here. Sunday I caught the flight out of Frankfurt as planned, taking my usual few hours of luxury in the Business Lounge with the free cashews. Ok, one sec. I just have to say that Lufthansa Business Class has really let me down here. I don’t mind substandard service, but when you replace the Heineken bottles with alcohol free versions and don’t tell the customers it can lead to very humiliating circumstances. Needless to say I was rather insulted when after my third beer, being rather impressed by my tolerance, I noticed the fine print. I'm sure the lounge attendants got quite the little laugh at my expense.

Anyways, after my flight across the German countryside I touched down in Bremen and checked into the Marriott. Extremely nice hotel and I was looking forward to a week of comfort in a first class hotel. Of course that wasn’t gonna happen. Next morning I show up at the Bremen office raring to go and what do I get? “Aah, who are you?” says the nice German VP. Turns out I’m the only one left in the dark when plans get changed. So here I am in at work on time Monday morning. Problem is I'm in the wrong freakin country.

So forward on two hours and I’m sitting in the Bremen airport waiting on a last minute flight back out. It was a great visit. I think I saw the local McDonalds and that was about it. So back on the Boeing and watching the German countryside backtrack as I savour my usual red wine and Business Class chocolaty treat. Touch down in Munich 74 minutes later. Of course exactly 11 days too late to catch Oktoberfest, and with exactly minus 12 minutes to catch my connecting flight. But like these things usually go, my mad dash across Munich airport is met by a crowd of slightly perturbed Germans waiting on a delayed flight. My next 45 minutes find me in the nearest pub enjoying a welcome beer with a group of Iraqi oil workers (well, they were German but just returned from Iraq, and strangely enough heading back in six weeks) and a lone Brit just come back from 8 months in Siberia. He seemed particularly thirsty for some reason. Funny the people you meet in airport bars. So back on the plane and back north across Germany for the third time in two days, do a direct fly over Berlin in the dark which was spectacular
(I had visions of American bombers pounding the city), and finally touch down in Helsinki for the second time in a month at just before midnight. Needless to say I was glad to reach my hotel and hit the bed.

So two countries, three hotels, and four airports in two days. I think that’s gotta be some kinda record for me. But all’s well that ends well. I was back into work Tuesday morning, happy that I was actually in the right city this time, and quickly down to work. Flash forward through four days of toil, and here you find me enjoying a well deserved day off (well, I only had to work four hours this morning so that’s a day off for me).

I had an interesting question posed to me several times over the past few weeks which has got me thinking somewhat. It usually comes about in the course of conversation with regular people, and by regular I mean the white picket fence, mini-van in the driveway, 2.5 kids and a dog, 9 to 5 suburban crowd. The reason behind the question usually stems from the utter inability of some people to imagine a life so completely foreign and devoid of stability and personal connections. It's seems strange to me sometimes how people place such emphasis on personal belongings and absolute stability. Like they have to lock themselves away in their homes in protection against adversity and change. Not that there's anything wrong with this way of seeing things. To each his own, and if you need rigid routine in your life to give you a sense of well-being then more power to you and your little piece of sanity in the world. That's not me. Lock me away in a little piece of the American dream with a house to call my own domain, and you'll catch me climbing out the bathroom window.

But in all fairness, people do inquire as to what it's like to live wholly on the road with absolutely no physical attachments (behond my suitcase and laptop) and they really seem to inquire with a genuine sense of interest. Like they really do want to know what it's like. And I always get the feeling I'm inadvertently feeding some inner fantasy I think almost everyone has of just dropping all of life's demands and just hitting the open road. I think many people have this idealistic, almost romantic view of what life could be like. And when I tell them I've bought a villa in Thailand and plan on making that my homebase in a few months, that one usually gets quite the starry eyed reaction.

But then reality usually sets back in and up comes the inevitable question. "How long can you actually do this?". And that's it. How long can someone actually live a life like this. How long is the usual career? 25 years? 30? 30 years of life on the road I think will leave you a very well travelled, but very lonely old man. Also very wealthy mind you, but still damn lonely. So what is the answer. Well, in all honesty you have to go back to my last comment. Money. I don't plan on working for the next 20 or 30 years. Hell, I don't plan on working for the next 10. I'm putting in five or six years of seeing the world, taking full advantage of travelling on some else's dime. And banking every cent that I make. And then I'm dropping out of society and retiring to some tropical island somewhere to live out my days eating grapes and terrorizing the local native female population who just happen to share my island paradise. But yeah, in all truth, this is a fantastic way to spend a couple years travelling the world and making money. Why do you think many guys join the army. To see the world, right? I personally am glad that I can sleep in my nice hotel room and not have to share a bunk with thirty guys in the leaky bowels of a battle cruiser. And I don't have to go to Iraq.

Guten Morgan from Germany,

That means good morning for all you anglophones. It's actualy 5pm, but I haven't learned how to say good afternoon just yet.

So what pray tell does this fine afternoon in Germany have to offer that would find you held ransom to my five minutes of fame here? Well, nothing I guess. But this is my diary and it's my party, so to speak.

There are a number of travel diaries out there, and on this site in particular, that document some great adventure set amidst a life predominently themed by middle-class normality. How do I differ? Well, my story is a normal adventure set admist a life predominently themed by anti-middle class chaos. It wasn't anything my parents did. Honest. I should probably be Mr. Beaver by now. I guess I prove the age old nature versus nurture debate.

And so the story begins. And ends right here in this hotel room as I type this out. This is not a great adventure of self-discovery recorded for prosperity for all the world to witness my trials and tribulations. This is my life. I'm just trying to make it through like everyone else. I just happen to have a bit more of a hero complex than most. That, and I'm really, really bored and like to type.

So I hope that this may come as a welcome addition to your inbox every once and a while to catch up on someone that you know and care about. And if you don't know me and care about me then I apologize in advance. This is predominently meant for my family, as a way of keeping in contact with people whom I care about and would love to personally keep in touch with. But every day is only so long and we all know that despite the promises to keep in touch, the demands of daily life sideline the best of intentions. So this is my attempt to spread the net as wide as possible. Hopefully I can keep in touch with those I care most about(now or at one time)and some good may come of this small effort. And if you don't now me, well then maybe you will. And if not I can at least blow my own horn, so to speak.

So today is Saturday and I am now resident in my hotel room having finished off the week of work. The best part of this job is that I can work from home (by home I mean whatever hotel room I happen to be in at the moment). So I cut out early yesterday and spent a few hours Friday night getting some work done, tucked warmly away under the covers and hammering away at the laptop. Today saw much of the same, but I got the week's work wrapped up and sent out by noon.

Tomorrow I am back on the usual Sunday routine now. Check out and off to Frankfurt airport for my 3:35 Lufthansa flight to Bremen. This time it's a quick little 55 minute flight on a Boeing 737 from Southern Germany up to the northern coastline of Germany to a mid size German city called Bremen. I have no idea what this city will be like, short of the fact that it's the second largest coastal port in Germany and has a long history of a whole lot of nothing. I think their history involved Cheese. A lot of cities around here revolve around cheese. Strange. I shouldn't say that in case someone from Bremen is reading, but my internet search turned up images of industrial town desolation. I'm hoping my initial impressions are proved wrong.

But despite what my destination proves to be, I've just gotta say here how spectacular it is to fly Business Class. I can say that because for some strange reason business class on Lufthansa turned out to be dirt cheap and my consultant company decided to treat me royally. I feel privileged. But I love Lufthansa business class not for any reason other than the fact that Lufthansa gives you unlimited free beer and cashews. I can say that I honestly love airports and I show up hours early just to hang around. But when you're flying Business Class, you get to hang out in the Business Lounge. Well, normally I find the lounges really sterile and boring so don't spend much time there. But the Lufthansa lounges are just a step apart from the usual. Most Business Lounges are really stiff and professional, with a load of suits doing their suit thing. But Lufthansa seems to fill their business class on the planes with a slightly more riff-raff crowd, and from what I found last sunday this transposes very well to their lounge. Add free beer and food and you get quite the festive atmosphere. I actually met quite a few interesting people last Sunday, and that's kinda the whole vibe I like about airports in general.

So tomorrow night it's the Marriot, Bremen... four star I think but the internet site says it's got an iron in the room. Sad to say, but things like that make me excited. Mostly because this hotel didn't understand the word "Iron" and my clothes at the moment look like they'be been rolled up in my pocket, and not folded in my suitcase.

So not much more to report on here except the mundane realities of my life. But the best thing about how my life at the moment is that once thing become mundane (usually by the end of the week), I can hop on a plane on Sunday and start all over again in a new country, new city, and new hotel. Call me attention deficit, or whatever you like. But the way I see it is there's a lot out there to see and not much time to see it. So I'm on a mission to see it all, one week at a time, one country at a time.

Next report from Northern Germany.

Bodhi

So here I sit on a chilly Wednesday evening from my hotel room in Hotel Huggenottenof, typing this first journal entry. Why you may ask are you receiving this meaningless update on my life when you haven't asked to be subjected to my life story?