Myanmar (Burma) in 28 Days: 28 Things You Absolutely Must Do

Myanmar (Burma) is one of the most rapidly changing countries in the world. It’s one of the final frontiers for open tourism after military rule was relinquished (somewhat) in 2010 after nearly 50 years. Myanmar is a country of ethnic diversity and topographical wonder, historical significance and religious intrigue. It’s also a country of astounding dichotomy and great mystery.

Myanmar is a country that moves at a slow pace, both in sentiment and infrastructure. If you’re planning on visiting Myanmar – and you should do it sooner than later – you’ll have 28 days on your travel visa to take it all in.

Find my list of 28 things you must do in Myanmar at Société Perrier.

Including:

#4: Adventure-eat at 19th Street [READ MORE]

Fried Crickets - Crunchy, Salty, Fried. Perfect With a Pint of Myanmar Beer

#17: Temple Town, Bagan [READ MORE]

Loving the View Atop One of Bagan's 4,000+ Stupas

#20: Take a Trek from Kalaw [READ MORE]

My Guide, Paul from Golden Lily Guest House

Hmong Women Tilling Young Rice Crops

#22: Float at Inle Lake [READ MORE]

Fisherman With Traditional Canoe on Inle Lake

Discover all 28 must-do things: How to Experience Magical Myanmar in 28 Days

Full article originally published at Société Perrier

Photo of the Day: Chicken Chiang Mai

I'm going to one of the best Portuguese chicken joints in Toronto for dinner this evening – Churrasco Villa on Eglinton – and it got me reminiscing...

While I've never been to Portugal, I've indulged in my fair share of foul around the world. Perhaps one scene that resonated with me the most was a display of fried chicken heads in a market near Chiang Mai, Thailand. Not only was the ephemeral layout being picked through with hungry haste as the morning's visitors stocked up on snacks for the day, but what a presentation! From the strike of the blade across their necks to the crispy comb on the top of their heads, it was a sight to be heralded.

Of course, it made for a marvellously meaty breakfast alongside some suspect mystery sausage and a handful of mangosteen... I always eat a balanced diet...

Bake for 4.5-months at 5500ºF

Originally composed on: Day 1.5.2: Wednesday, April 18, 2012: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

The heat comes first!

The heat always comes first. As soon as I cross the threshold of the cabin door I know where I am. It's sticky, humid and heavy. Outside the clouds are intermittent and the sun pokes through at irregular intervals.

Baggage claimed, some money exchanged and I hit the KLIA Express direct to Sentral Station. Rolling out of the station and taking my first up-close glimpse of Malaysia through the smudged cabin window; the country is remarkably, though I suppose predictably, dissimilar from any other Asian landscape I've encountered. The scenery is lush and green. Some small rolling hills here and there, the occasional shanty farm with a few cows and not nearly as much sprawling development than I would have imagined. I can't help thinking: what a nice place to carve out a golf course. Sure enough, one appears.

Once the ultra-modern, wifi equipped train breaches the boundary of the city centre the portrait outside my window is entirely different from the outskirts of town. Honking horns and grumbling motorbikes. Decrepit storefronts and dingy crumbling facades. There must be an allure to the place yet, but it's not apparent to me now. There's a striking contrast between the state of Reggae Mansion and its neighbors. The foreigner-only hostel is a pristine white building with large french doors, marble floors, clay tile courtyards and bumping techno music in the bar.

The evening will likely pass lazily as I await the arrival of my travel companion and decade-long friend, Yoni, and attempt to adjust to the time difference after 24-hours in transit.

So, it has begun!

The Stopover

Day 1.5:
Originally composed on Wednesday, April 8, 2012: Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport (TPE), Taipei, Taiwan.

It's a dreary dawn in Taipei. Dry and conditioned inside TPT; separated from the soggy exterior by large window panes. The tempered glass feels warm. Inside it's bright and the orchids are blooming. Two decisively different atmospheres a mere few feet apart.

Only just after 5am and it looks as though the humidity is pushing the thick cloud cover closer towards street level. Now more than 16-hours have passed since takeoff and the notion of leaving seems to be slowly setting in.

Orchids inside TPE

I saunter through the hallways of the terminal to stretch my atrophied limbs and sore back. You could be in any airport terminal in the whole world and the only thing that would change is the language on the signs and the script on the Coca-Cola machine. The smells is eerily similar, the laminate flooring and the moving carpets, all alike--except Taipei. Each individual gate-side waiting area has a unique design and accompanying theme. I sit in the futuristic techno-lounge, with power outlets at the foot of each curved, post-modern plastic seat. There's a jungle themed space with vines, trees and floor-to-ceiling murals. Even a Hello Kitty room, with decals of pink polka dots.

My meandering took me into all the various Duty Free shops where I was waited-on at each browse. I figured, given my carabiner clad backpack and thrifty travel threads, the salespeople would have deciphered that I wasn't the ideal candidate to purchase a $5,000 Cartier watch. It's more if a cultural thing, I know (or simply just good courteous business practice), but I did feel a bit bad that these pretty, immaculately made-up Taiwanese women were following me around the stores constantly asking me if I wanted help--or much more uncomfortably, just standing silently at my side. Maybe they took me for a thief?

Despite my 4am in-flight congee breakfast (baby shrimp, bonito fish flakes, cold tofu and all!) I stumbled upon something I should have anticipated, and would have welcomed at any level of hunger--airport dim sum! I am not a man of great temptation (now looking back at this piece of writing five months later I might be inclined to revise that statement with a more circumstantial preposition), but if there's one thing I can't resist, it's dumplings in the morning. While I opted out of the shitty looking shu maii, A $9 USD serving of xiao long bao, accompanied by a soothing bowl of chicken consommé with black oyster mushroom and pieces of moist boiled chicken later, and I find myself back on the airplane. Unexpectedly, I'm lounging in the luxury of an extra-wide, executive coach seat. My feet are propped up comfortably on the extended ottoman and I'm on the final leg of my one-way ticket to the trip of a lifetime.

I wonder what's for breakfast #2?

Notice the man in the Taipei airport sporting golf shoes! Maybe I missed the golf theme lounge?

A Time to Refelct

As the air becomes more crisp and the sun sleeps at an earlier hour, the greenery mellows and the school bells bellow. A turning of the season marks a time for reflection. For, the summer has past and the fall is the future. It's a time to look back and remember the rays. Remember the meals and remember the days. Remember the friends, the folly, the fun. The journey has passed, now the story's begun...

As soon as the airplane took off on April 17, 2012, I began to write. In the young hours of the morning, the ink bled through the first pages of my Moleskine as I broke the horizon on an adventure that would take me 139-days into the unexpected. At that moment, there was no foreseeable end. A pile of cash and a one-way plane ride to what I could only imagine was paradise. 

Looking back on the journey, now exactly five months later; from atop the folds in my bed sheets, the fading light pooling on to the hardwood floor of my bedroom through the rectangular panes of my south-facing window in the city of Toronto; so many of the sounds, smells and sensations of Southeast Asia are still fresh in my mind. Some of the best times are a blur. The beaches are tactile. The mountains, so magnificent they're a mystery. The cities, my pulse. The food, my muse. 

Here is the start (once again-- read my first blog of the trip here) of what went down through nine countries, with no plan, some free time, and a major yearning to live it up while I still can. 

...Oh, and did I mention that booze is cheap and phenomenal food is practically free? Ya, that makes for some inspired writing! 

Check back often as my hand-printed pages hit the hardwire. 

35,000ft to freedom

Day 1: 

Originally written on Tuesday, April 17, 2012 (EVA Air BR35: YYZ-TPE)

The number of times I leave to go traveling holds little to no bearing on the feelings that go along with the act of departing itself. However versed or virgin one is to the overall experience--it seems for me, at least, that with each boarding, taxi and takeoff comes a strikingly separate set of emotions. 

Just over 13-months ago I was leaving for what I thought would be the adventure that brought me to where I am finally heading. After seven months of some of the most euphoric highs and unruly lows South Korea became just another pin on the map; a pin that changed my perspective on culture, opened my eyes to a part of the world that always intrigued me and ultimately emulsified my ambition to delve as seep as I could into the history, personality and gastronomy of the world. 

As the jet engines screech and the airplane torpedoes off the runway I follow the routine that my father has maintained through his many years of flight. The cardinal rule: shoes stay on until after takeoff. Feel free to settle yourself and engage in normal in-flight activities while waiting to depart. The paper, a good novel, some soft tunes are always par for the course. Allow for casual conversation with an unfamiliar isle-mate or banter amongst friends and family. The screens will drop down from above the seats, safety prompts will cue and emergency instructions amplify over the intercom; respectfully ignore them. Continue as you are while you taxi to the runway and then--stop. 

You are about to engage in the miracle of flight. Set down your reading material, pause the album you're listening to and be mindful of what is about to take place. I always countdown from ten a the thrusters howl and the ground speed increases; my personal addition to the ritual. The rumble of tens of thousands of pounds of metal and complex machinery soon to be lifted off the ground and passed though multiple layers of climate, 35,000ft above where we normally plant our feet. I'm always taken aback when I meet someone who's never flown before. Then, I try to put it in perspective; the fantastical element of the fact that something so magical, so complex, has become an act met with anything less than awe. I think that my father is humbled by the aircraft, and so am I. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6...as the countdown concludes the front wheels push upwards as the angle of the wings steepen. With one final thrust from the turbines, the back end of the winged beast bounds free of the pavement.

There's a unique feeling in your loins with the weight of the air, and air alone, all around you. The first swooping kick into the air is almost tantric. Somewhere between you abdomen and your ass it moves. What is it? I'll likely never know. But, that feeling is as intense, as it is almost impossible to detect. It is as soothing and sensuous as inhaling the aromas of a freshly poured glass of wine. It envelopes the deepest, most hyper-sensitive areas of your innards, and at that moment, and rarely sooner does it all settle in. 

This is where I am going. I am on my way. Pick your book back up. Pop the earbuds back in. Take off your shoes. Let the journey begin...

No news is good news, but good news is better

When I first arrived in Korea I was a tourist. I have become a resident, temporarily. Soon, I will be a defector. Not quite escaping, but definitely getting out. Its not because I don't like where I am, but that my justifications for sticking around have been matched by reason, or at least transformed perspective.

In the last real update concerning my personal state of affairs the outlook was grim. I had fallen into a routine of accepted, apathetic and unenjoyable work. My frustrations were brielfy blurred out through uninhibited indulgence, or the exploratory undertakings of a curious stranger in a foreign land.
I no longer feel like a wide eyed alien looking to take in all the 'difference' and draw up distinctions between what I know and what is new. I continue to be on a journey, no doubt. But, I feel like I know where I am going. Rather than walking the banks of a meandering stream in search of a bridge that will take me to the other side, I am paving a path with precision and a purpose.

When it was last addressed, I had no ability to wrap my head around the concept, or moreso the timeframe that surrounded the completion of my one year teaching contract here in Korea. I was roughly four months deep at the time, and the days crawled along with sinister torment. It wasn't what I had lacked to achieve with my children; some of them, most notably my kindergarten kids, had made remarkable and respectable progress over such a short period of time. What terminally tested my patience were the things beyond my control. The crying, the yelling, the relentless and recursive jabber in an incomprehensible language, that I knew would never cease. These were the things that tested my patience to an insurmountable extent. I felt as though I was playing Sherpa, guiding a goup of crippled geriatrics to the peaks of Everest without a map. And I was from Delaware. There aren't any mountains in Delaware, right? Point being, I was delt a difficult hand and felt increasingly out of my element.

As a general statement, I enjoy being amidst things I dont quite know or understand. I relish the opportunity to travel because it not only breaks me out of a comfort zone which is not so easily annexed, but because it allows me to broaden my horizons and accrue a legitimate and preservable understanding, or lack there of, of another culture. However, as I mentioned before, I was no longer a tourist, I was a citizen, an employee; and for the brief and now calculable future I continue to hold those titles. Come October, though, things will have shifted somewhat.

At the beginning of July I decided that I had to make movements. Playing for the puppeteer would no longer cut it. I had to write my own script. There's no such thing as your "two weeks notice" while teaching out in Korea. The departure period is 3-months in the making, which at some schools can lead to isolation from coworkers, abhorrence from your administration, and in the worst cases, a bounced cheque on your final payment. As I've mentioned before, I work for and with a pretty respectable crew of people, so thankfully these are matters that don't concern me. What took the greastest amount of care and concern was sorting out just exactly what the next step was.

When I firt had it in my mind to release myself from my contractual woes, the option of leaving Korea was largely nonexistent. With major travel plans on the crest of the horizon and a $1,200 price tag on a one way ticket home I had done my research and figured the best course of action would be to stick around town with a tourist visa (valid for 6-months for Canadians) and set up private tutoring gigs to pay the rent and stockpile some walking around money. Unexpectedly, I had to take a two week hiatus from work and return home to Toronto just a week later. For a short period of time i was surrounded by family and friends, gorgeous weather, and a bed that was off the floor; a sharp contrast to Seoul. I felt relaxed and revived. In the past 6 years I have spent roughly one cumulative year living in my hometown, and with no real job, nowhere to live and a solid plan to travel for 6 additional months come March, 2012, I was beginning to feel as though I hadn't considered all the options.

On October 10 I will say farewell to Korea. Honestly humbled by my experience as a teacher, and sincerely sorry for those poor sots who had to teach me as a hyperactive youngster, it's time to start looking towards the future while not forgetting the value of living for the present. I committed to myself that after University, until the age of 25, I would take every opportunity to do whatever, whenever and live completely free of regrets. I would be lying if I said that there wasn't a point in time where I regretted my decision to come to teach in Korea. In hindsight, however, a small regret has not led to regression. While the task proved to be an uncomfortable challenge at times, the overall experience outside of school has surely compensated for the rest. The street food, the barbeque, the bar scene, the friends, the travel, and did I mention the food? All of these memorable elements have helped to reaffirm my post-University mission of self discovery, and have collectively allowed me to gain more personal insight into what I want to pursue in my life, as much as what I don't.

When I go back to Toronto I will begin my applications to pursue further education in broadcasting or broadcast journalism, which I will potentially follow with a culinary degree. With those tools at my disposal I hope to work my way onto a television show centered around travel and indigenous international cuisine. Growing up in the cultural mosaic that is Toronto, I have been fortunate to sample a plethora of high quality and authentic eats from all over the world with no more than a 30 minute commute. The experience of leaving the comforts of home, being surrounded by the sights, smells and sounds of a foreign place, and combining that with a truly local meal, cannot be matched in any other forum. Living in Seoul has given me a taste for such a feeling, and I feel like it will take a while until my appetite is peaked.

So, with new aspirations and renewed drive, I'm heading back to what I know in order to prep myself to experience the things that I don't. 

No Reservations..."Gun Bae!"

In the midst of transition and trepidation towards my time in Korea there are those who inspire and continue to ignite the flame that flickers too dimly at times.

I must attest; these past few weeks in Seoul have been difficult to say the least. A bout of food poisoning from some un-stomach-able spicy squid stir fry, many difficulties surrounding my world of work and most recently, a 3-day long fever riddled stomach flu (potentially caused by exposure to nuclear rain, although, I think that's a long shot). Yet, amongst these unfortunate hours I am fervently forcing myself to forget the ills of today and look forward to tomorrow.

This will undoubtedly not be the last time you'll see me quote this, but in the poetic words of Gord Downey of The Tragically Hip: "Escape is at hand for the traveling man". However, if a traveling man has nothing to escape but his travels themselves, then escaping to the travels of another seem to be entirely fitting.

One of my closest friends, a fearless female of five-feet who has recently returned from her first 'real' travel experience ever...a mere two and a half months solo missioning in India (no biggie), recommended that I check out a program that I'm embarrassed to admit has passed me by until now, called Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations.

Bourdain's long list of accolades begin in the kitchen, progress to the page, the television set, cyberspace, and seem to have no end in sight.  No Reservations is a punchbowl of edge and insight, character, cool and all that is unknown, or should be known, about eating what the locals eat around the world. To put it plainly, it is productions like these that continue to motivate me to do what I want to do out here in Korea. To push me towards a career path like that of his own and, hopefully, one day being that dude on TV whose giving you the low down on the best street vendor to eat chao tom (barbecued fish paste on sugar cane) in Saigon, drink the purest caipirinha in Sao Paulo and soak up the sweetest scenes in Sumatra.

It can become frustrating for me to know that the vast majority of my time is Seoul is spent taking care of off the wall tots and juggling the excessive demands of a foreign management that can't actually communicate what they want me to do. However, by the time I do get to leave work and peruse the street vendors, massive marketplaces, restaurants, bars and  bo gi stands, I know that at least something seems right.

Living in Seoul, as far as the city is concerned, has been eye opening and unimaginably interesting thus far. Over the next 11 months I can barely begin to hypothesize what will be in store. The culinary culture is a 24/7 mosaic of mysterious meats, funny looking fish, bountiful barbecues and a relentless amount of rice. Although, I am all too limited in the things I am able to order today, I'm confident that I'll pick up enough knowledge, or at the very least, a good crew of Koreans to help me delve in to all the deliciousness that surrounds me.

Meanwhile, I will continue to strive towards someday earning the privilege to be a ballsy and sometimes brash, temperamental yet sentimental, hopefully insightful, intriguingly inquisitive 'acquisitioner' of my very own travel/food show; not unlike Mr. Anthony Bourdain.

"Gun Bae" ("cheers" in Korean) to you good sir, and to all those individuals who take part in the career that I lust for. If you ever need an enthusiastic intern or a dupe to try the shitty stuff first, you know where to find me!


A quick must mention of one of the tastiest Korean dishes I've tacked to date: Sauteed and skilleted chicken large intestine!
The texture is somewhat firm, with a bit of an el dente outer layer and an inside that bursts with robust flavor when you bite into it. I reminded me a little bit of when I tried prairie oysters back when I traveled across Canada except these were done in a spicy chili sauce with the perfect contrast of added sweet sugar that you just wanted to eat with a spoon. These 'tiny' - large intestines were served on a hot plate skillet with white onion, fat cloves of garlic, green pepper, green chilies and sprinkled with sesame seeds. It was sumptuous!

(That's some saucy shit...I mean, the sauce is the best part of this shit...I mean, this shit actually tastes delicious!!)

There's more than one opportunity to make a good first impression

Partially composed: March 5, 2011 (5:40pm KST in a taxi cab from Incheon International Airport)


There's a great many ways to describe my first impressions of Korea and the city of Seoul...intrigue, disappointment, perspective, excitement...just a few adjectives that initially come to mind.


One thing I can say with conviction, at least as far as my very first glimpse of Seoul, is that it is not at all pretty. While most highway drives from an airport are less than aesthetically pleasing, my predictions of what the city of Seoul and its surrounding areas would look like were torn apart in mere moments. I had painted a picture of modern glass high rise buildings, distant peaks and the "magnificent beauty of the Han River"; my first mental photographs featured clusters of identical, half built buildings, brown grass, abandoned lots off the side of the highway, decrepit factories and shipping yards and an overwhelming abundance of beige-painted-everything.  


Coming from Toronto, I though I had a pretty good idea of what constant and major constructions looked like, but was I ever naive. Seoul is a rapidly expanding city and on the way to the core (where I live) the amount of construction is something that I can only comprehend after seeing it in person. Cranes sprouted out of the tops of beige, characterless concrete buildings and  towered over the sea of flat topped roofs. Small cities and communities that formerly featured nothing but small apartment buildings jammed together were now being dwarfed by gigantic 20 and 30 story housing complexes that looked like they were designed during the cold war era. While I had already been told that efficiency was more than a big deal around these parts and that large 'officetels' were the norm, I imagined it would come in the form of the ultra-modern. These housing projects, however, lacked both in beauty and grander (despite their size). I was actually a little disappointed that after so much anticipation I was greeted in my new city of residence to a most dreary scene. 


I am, however, not one to pass judgement too quickly and as I drove deeper and deeper into the depths of the beast that is the Greater Seoul Area things began to take less uniform appearance. Once off the airport highway and into the thick of a 6PM traffic jam near downtown my perspective began to take a more refined form. I noticed a well developed river-front with small parks, basketball and badminton courts, bike paths and outdoor workout stations. There were a surprising number of people enjoying the 8°C weather, uncharacteristic of a Seoul day in early March. I even saw about 5 different golf courses on the drive over; each one of them packed with players teeing off on the brown grass! (This would not only be unheard of back in Toronto, but highly ridiculed) 


As we crawled along and slowly took to the main roads I was all of a sudden slapped in the face with what Seoul was all about. The main roads had more lanes of traffic (6-8) than most of the biggest highways around Canada, each one in complete gridlock on a Saturday evening. The 401 at rush hour never seemed so appealing. One brave (or stupid) soul was legitimately selling rice cakes out of a hand-pulled kiosk in the middle of the lanes of traffic!! When you enter my part of Seoul called Apgujeong-dong (famous for its haute couture boutiques and plastic surgery clinics) in Gangnam-gu (the quintessential downtown metropolis) my predetermined painting began to become more realistic. The mega-roads are lined with giant office towers, movie theaters, restaurants, convenience stores and more cafe's and cell phone shops then should be legal. Once off the main roads the neighborhoods are comprised of an intricate labyrinth of tiny streets; small apartment buildings, businesses, boutiques, restaurants of all kinds, and of course...many more cafe's! 


Seoul is a foodies wet dream! Even in Apgujeong, which is considered to be the most affluent in Korea, it is so easy to find delicious, fresh, filling and inexpensive food! 


Standard Korean fare is always the most affordable option and is guaranteed to come along with unlimited refils of side dishes free of charge.


A dolsot bibimbap will run you a mere W3,500-W5,500 (under $3-$5). "Dolsot" means "stone bowl" and "bibimbap"--"mixed meal", is a combination of rice served in a scolding hot stone bowl with sliced fresh vegetables on top and garnished with a raw egg and occasionally sliced meat; when mixed together it cooks the egg and creates a delicious contrast of flavors and textures from crispy and soft pieces of rice, crunchy veggies and acts as the perfect excuse to indulge in copious amounts of gochujang (chili pepper paste, or Korean hot sauce). 


Bulgogi: W5,000-W6,000 is one of the most popular dishes around and has most definitely found its way to everyone's local Korean restaurant. "Bulgogi" literally translates to "fire meat", but it is most commonly found served on a sizzling cast iron plate, or as I've found when ordering by name and expecting the former , a type of soup with some vegetables and glass noodles rather than grilled (the traditional preparation). Bulgogi is made from thinly sliced sirloin or other prime cuts of beef and is generally marinated for at least two hours in a variety of seasonings, including soy sauce, sesame oil, black pepper, garlic, onion, sugar, and ginger. The marinating process ensures a beautifully tender bite with a rich flavor that is both salty and sweet on the palate. Bulgogi is often served with rice and some sort of lettuce or sesame leaf for wraps. Don't forget your gochujang!


Another amazing thing about Korea is that so much of their eating is priced to serve at least two people. I was fortunate enough to be taken out for my first two meals in Seoul and each one was a cultural experience in itself. In many Korean restaurants it is typical to order just one main dish of meat or fish and the rest of the meal consists of an endless supply of delectable and diverse side dishes. My first meal (pictured below) cost W6,000 for all of the sides that also included a kimchi soup with tofu and what I believe was a mung bean and seaweed soup (my friend couldn't translate for me), and W12,000 for a hefty plate of bulgogi. The two of us didn't even come close to taking the whole thing down! 

(gotta love the variety!)

My second lunch was at a very upscale Korean restaurant, beautifully decorated with giant clay urns and pots, and other traditionally Korean artifacts and was a meal for the ages! With a whopping 43 dishes (some couldn't fit in the photo) to choose from, this epic two hour mowing marathon featured a tender salty sliced pork belly, bulgogi, dolsot bibimbap rice with peanuts (no veggies), dolsot egg, two soups and a plethora of palatable delights; at least 6 different kinds of kimchi and kimchi'ed things, whole fried Yellow Corvina (fish on the left), sauteed king oyster mushrooms, sting ray, and stuffed green chillies. For W26,000 I will be sure to bring some friends along for this experience sometime soon!

(I was full for days)

So, after being dropped into Korea in what appeared to a dull and dreary atmosphere, it didn't take long before I was exposed to some of the culinary colours that this country can offer. From confused to confident, I am eager to dip into the many taste sensations and topographic wonders that this country has to offer. 


With spring just around the corner, I will be budding along with the cherry blossoms and growing into my new surroundings. And while I don't expect it to, if all else fails, at least this food fiend will never go hungry!

In Transit

Originally composed: March 4, 2011 (11:11am @ Chicago, O'Hare International Airport)

As Seoul begins to go to sleep I'm waking up to a whole new life. While mine has always been about living through experience, this experience is destined to be far beyond any that I've had. Barriers of language, culture, instinct and intuition will open doors to greater understanding, appreciation and adventure.

Avenues of all kinds will be perused and patrolled; alleyways will be scoured; cul-de-sac's conquered. Supertrains, subways, busses and boats, taxi cabs and tuk tuk's; carry me towards where I know, not, where I am going.

That land of Korea is as foreign to me as one could ever be, and I intend to make it my home. For the next year of my life, home will be far away from the heart...at least for the start. But, my heart is in it. My heart, my mind, my body, my energy and ambition are all on my side.

The future favors those who fuel the fire. And this spark is just starting to catch some flame.