Oh hey... whatcha got over there? A taco?

All right ya jagoff, I'll get my own damn taco.

So it's almost a shame that I post this photo above the below photo, but unfortunately, I've been, um, disinclined to post my work within the last two weeks. Not that I didn't like it, just that I didn't find the stories that interesting. Ok, that's a lie, but fuhgeddaboudit.

The good news is that I have new babies. A solid 85mm prime and a handy-dandy extension tube. For those not photo-oriented, an ET is an alternative to directly buying a lens that was designed for macro photography. All you do is twist it onto your camera body, grab a lens and away you go. Granted, not all lenses work with it, but that really doesn't matter.

I wasn't feeling incredibly inspired but I really, really wanted to play, soo I thought of things around the house that went with a comedic line or some sort of silly story. Now mind you, this was all macro photography, so I was kinda limited in what I could do. I came up with the following:

1. The brass goose my mom dropped on my head when I was little.
2. The coffee table that still has my little 6-year-old's teeth marks in it.
3. My collection of cool hotel keycards, however, vetoed because I could write a book from all the stories packed into those suckers.
4. Some beautifully crafted jewelry I picked up in an awesome Thai market for three bucks - which goes with a haggling story at its best, might I add.

and

5. The newest addition to my Enzo Angiolini shoe family. I don't own many shoes, but the ones I have I love quite dearly. These. Are ridiculous, but I love them: twenty bucks too!

But anyway, here's the story: Linda and I were wandering in DSW when this man, wife in tow, approached us for our opinions on his selection of a dress shoe. Linda immediately says, "Oh, I don't like them." He then looks at me, I look down at the shoe and say, "I don't really like them either, but I spent the last few months working for a fashion network and all the guys wore them."

Which would have been a perfectly acceptable answer, had I not been dressed like an idiot. These sequined, quaintly obnoxious ballet flats, some tight, worn bootleg jeans, a zip-up hoodie that Linda bought for my brother about seven minutes prior, which was about three sizes too big WITH the tags still on and was only on me because I was too stupid to bring a coat, and last but not least, a French braid that by this time of the day, was just shy of disaster.

Eek. Well, for whatever reason, the poor sap listened to us and ended up purchasing a much more mundane shoe. In case you were wondering, this guy had big feet and was trying to wear a lengthy square-toed shoe, which, is the equivalent on the absurd scale of girls above a size 7 wearing pointy-toed stilettos. And by the way, if someone can give me one good reason those shoes are flattering, I will go back into this post and write: "In my opinion" for every one of those statements...

If you're wondering the same about my shoes? Craftsmanship, ladies and gents, craftsmanship.

T-funk and I immediately got off to a great start:

"Hey, are you the girl that shot the Wailers last summer?"
"Yeah dude."

Chalk that one up to some music scene street cred.

Haha, but man, this guy is one of the most exciting bassists I have ever and probably will ever photograph. This dude rocks out so hard that I actually wished he would just slow down for 30 seconds and stay in the frickin' light... and I am NEVER one to discourage a good, solid rock-out. Not only am I pretty sure that his gold shoes walked every inch of stage left, I had to assist him, post-show, in locating his dread band, lost mid-crazy-headbang.


Really, there's so much to say about this guy from both an audio and a visual standpoint that I can't say anymore except: Yeah!!!

So I walked into Starbucks in Shadyside a few weeks ago with only my standard expectation of a decent cappuccino and a surprisingly good slice of blueberry coffee cake.

However, I was treated to the pleasure of meeting one of the most reassuring breaths of fresh personality I have encountered in awhile. Walking past the little preparation station, we were softly greeted by one of the employees, who flashed a smile of modest confidence from behind the espresso machine and went back to steaming some milk. As I unwrapped my scarf and took one last gander at the menu (uh, duh, my ritual and sometimes purgatorial "hm, maybe I want something else"), I was still quite enamored with the energy coming from the left corner. This chick had to be cool, perhaps some kind of artist ... and wait, what was she doing brewing espresso at Starbucks?

After Matt and I finished talking shop and got up to leave, we took a detour to the exit by paying our espresso-friend a visit.

Turns out that she is one hell of a talented girl, a musician whom Pittsburgh has certainly never raised before. Her name is Sonji and I think that she's got somethin' goin' on.

In lieu of focusing on my colloquial dangling of prepositions, check out Sonji's jams.

There is nothing better in an architectural photo than linear perfection. I think this photo is pretty close to my definition of that concept, though I can't take complete credit for the shot.

Switch to my History Channel narrator voice:

Constructed in stages from 1892 to 1914, the two main sections were designed by popular Chicago architecture firm D.H. Burnham and Co. Home to Chicago's legendary department store, Marshall Field's, the piece became known around the world for its size and for its delicate atria, including a thirteen-story sky-lit atrium in the northwestern corner (shown above) and five-story Tiffany & Co. mosaic atrium, comprised of 1.6 million pieces of favrile iridescent glass, on the southwestern corner.

Though Marshall Field's was bought out by Macy's and officially renamed "Macy's on State Street" in 2006, all of the original Marshall Field's plates on both the interior and exterior remain intact.

Annnd back to normal me:

I know it seems like it's just a giant Macy's, but anyone who appreciates early nineteenth century architecture really shouldn't miss this anomaly of a department store. Heck, I'm not really a shopper, but I had to explore every floor, though I think it was mainly to check out the different vantage points - orrr that's what I'll tell myself.

For the record, I bought nothing.

Going to Chicago without getting a deep-dish pizza is like going to Pittsburgh and not eating a Primanti Bros.' sandwich. Unbelievable, I know, but yes, it is as big of a deal.

This little ditty is a Giordano's pizza paired with a Goose Island draft.

No longer a Chicago virgin, I figured I'd pay commercial homage to Mr. Harry Caray.

Though, in the world of sports broadcasting, Myron could kick his butt any day, but I guess it's not really fair because Mr. Cope was blessed with the better sport.

Despite the fact that this was taken on a day where the framing tool in my brain refused to function, I really enjoy this shot. I don't know if I didn't want to photograph Chicago or if Chicago didn't want to be photographed, but the former seems unlikely. I mean, frigid cold + gnarly winds = very pleasant Alli, so I can't imagine what happened there.

I probably shouldn't have tweaked it so much too, but I kinda got obsessed with the colors of the sky's gradient and it was all downhill from there.

All right, Bean, you win. I couldn't get what I wanted, so this will have to do.

Happy?

I sure hope so, because I think you should know that you really need to be cleaned and I don't have the patience to do it in post. However, you do look much better from this angle. Have you lost weight?

Yes, I am the girl that buys the toothpaste with the glittering box, just because it's sparkling.

I just admitted that to cyberspace, didn't I?

Heck, while I'm at it, I accidentally dressed myself in all pink today. Glasses, sweater, ring, watch, scarf, hat, gloves... in honor of the late Mr. Myron Cope, "double yoi."

In my opinion, it is quite unfortunate that most females on this planet don't understand the art of makeup and the value in taking the proper time to learn the contours of your face. Even more unfortunate is that most men don't understand that for those of us that do dabble in this ancient art, we aren't doing it to make up for "what is lacking on the inside." The only thing that's lacking is your perspective.

If you understand light and you understand your face, every time you step into the mirror, you have a fresh palette to visually parallel what IS on the inside.

Haha, cheesy, but truth be told, a lot of us are just enamored with change. I like to call it the magic show.

Rachael, our beautiful artiste for this weekend, did a fabulous job, per the usual. This makeup style is fantastically fun, but obviously for very, VERY rare occasions.

This chick was totally not afraid to rock out. I dig it and I'll ditto that mohawk.

Well I've been back a week and I'm already running around like a nut, but if you know me, you know that that is fantastic.

What I've heard from many people recently is that they can't seem to understand why I work so much. In the 2nd most simple way I can explain this, I will say that it's because my work allows me to do things that I otherwise wouldn't be able to do and with such rapidity that sometimes, this blog is the only way I can keep track of me. I generally get pretty disappointed when people tell me to stop working, because that means they really don't understand what I am doing. My work involves meeting crazy people, seeing beautiful things, experiencing life in ways that a 9-5 would never enable me to do. And what of personal relationships, they ask? I say you have no idea how they can grow until you see the results of a collaborative group of truly motivated, passionate people. Imagine working with your best friends, all the time, all over the world. Crazy idea, huh?

This weekend was one of those projects, where we just had a blast with our work. Knowing 2 of 7 of our team beforehand, by the time Sunday rolled around, it was as if we had known each other for years.

But anyway, I'll shut it... actual work aside, my job gave me the long-awaited opportunity to visit Bedford Springs, a treasure of Pennsylvania history about two hours outside Pittsburgh. I won't tell you the story because if you are truly interested, you will check out the site and I don't have to bore you like your 7th grade history teacher (Mr. Hyland, not you, you totally weren't boring... although you were the only teacher ever to give me detention- even if your big heart could only stand it for 30 seconds), but if you want my version at a later date, I won't be shy about it.

Oh wait, what's that? You want to know the simplest way to explain why I work so much?

MONEY.



Hahaha, totally just kidding... bottom line is that I frickin' love my job.

I finally got around to resizing this darn thing - just a small glimpse into the magnanimity of King Rama IX's 80th birthday, otherwise known as one of the best nights of my life thus far.

Note to Carlo: That is NOT, I repeat, NOT a Canon SLR you see sitting on my lap... you are getting sleeeeeepy, Ssleeeeeeppy....



Footage courtesy of FTV

This is Pat.

I wish I could say that this was my photograph, but it is, and not regrettably, the genius of another Pittsburgh photographer who I happen to work with quite frequently.

Now this is a portrait if I ever saw one. Pat is the parking attendant in one of the theater district lots on Penn Ave. of whom I had the honor and complete pleasure of meeting and visiting with today. Huddled in his little parking booth in the freezing cold with a teeny, tiny space heater was the best thing I've done since I got home. As I watched the snow disintegrate in puddles through the one-panel plexiglass window, I realized that this little workspace and all of its parole-abiding employees have a hysterically honest story. I mean, heck, his character alone was so priceless that my little shaking body didn't even mind the Burgh's standard mid-winter chill.

Mind you, my introduction to Pat started with Matt bursting through the booth's door saying, "You look at my sister that way and I'll kick your ass!," or something to that ridiculous effect.

Haha... Allll in good fun, allll in good fun, but I will say that Pat's explanation of how to "let'em jag-offs wahnda fur ehrs" in the parking garage of the U.S. Steel Tower (I believe he still called it USX), which apparently is of the most impressively large parking garages in the city, couldn't possibly have been more eloquent.

If you're ever "dahn er," ask Pat if he prefers the pocket knife or the icepick and you will get a shockingly truthful answer.

Oh and I believe Matt titled this photo, "Get Your Ticket."

It's uncharacteristic for this blog to see this many (yes, two) group shots, but this was the perfect farewell - full of friends and colleagues who made for an irreplaceable six months.

Salamat babies!

Some crazy kids perched atop a mountain in Baguio, our final stop on Tour de Luzon.

This shot is further proof that handing your SLR to the standard, everyday security guard is not always the best idea. I think I got up at least twice to adjust and re-frame, though all the settings had already been fixed. Kills the moment sometimes, but still, a moderately good shot.

A briefing of important things I learned:

Pia and David are engaged
Seven people with luggage CAN fit into a Mitsubishi SUV
Cho is jealous of my relationship with Tim Cruz, though definitely not for me (wafka pare!)
By vote, attraction is defined by "genitals"
Videoke is a national pastime
Musta naman, Dwight
Horses don't like flowers tied to their heads
Chicken is chicken, even if it is a one-day-old chick on a stick
Ube jam, is not, in fact, jam
Trox would like to be Zorro someday


And furthermore, why did no one tell me we were that close to Banaue?

Photoshop could make that beautiful a hue, but I assure you this image was not touched.

Taken in Vigan on the next leg of our trip, Vigan Church was one of the least interesting parts about this place. Although the church is a very nice specimen of Spanish architecture, this town is full of cool things to explore.

Seemingly stuck in the past, Vigan has managed to successfully preserve most of its heritage, not allowing new companies to tear down buildings and replace them with modern ones. So basically, things like McDonald's and KFC do exist here, just nestled inside buildings that are 400 years old.

Also important to note: I had a delicious plate of unshelled chili scallops in one of the tiny cafes, following, of course, a planned appetizer of Vigan's famous street empanadas.

I believe Trox was relieving himself when he looked over the beach house wall to see the tail-end of the sunset and yelled to me to grab my camera. Gotta love a true artist.

A captured curve- not too shabby, if you ask me.

And if any of you say, "what curve? there's no curve," I will slap you.

As usual, my little Filipino friends do not disappoint me in their photogenic ways.

This shot was taken on the steps of a church in Ilocos, though I unfortunately can't recall the name. It may have something to do with all the signs being in Tagalog or perhaps me not really paying attention, but who knows.

Shooting this church was quite the critical decision because the boys were heading to the market to pick up some fresh tuna and other fun things for our grilling extravaganza at Cho's beach house (total cost of dinner and breakfast the morning after 600 pesos or about $10). So it was either church, or market...

First of all, everyone knows how much I love food markets and second of all, I wasn't really sure where I was going to get better images... boys maneuvering market or historical church.

They obviously ended up dropping me off to wander, but I think I made the wrong choice.

After Cho lost his Johnny Depp hat in the Foreign Affairs building, we set off to San Augustin Church in Intramuros, Manila.

Intramuros, literally meaning "within the walls," is a 4km pentagonal piece of land that was the center of Spanish activity during the colonial period, completed with 22m walls and all, in 1606.

The cool thing about San Augustin is that it is one of the only structures left standing in Intramuros after the Battle of Manila in 1945. Yes, the church had many other mishaps, but pretty much nothing was left after this little scuffle.

Also worth noting, Spanish conquistadors, Miguel López de Legazpi, Juan de Salcedo and Martín de Goiti rest under this church.

P.S. - Oh and in case you were wondering, Cho got his hat back.

My first night in Manila, Cholo took me to his sister-in-law's "house"(I know the period is always supposed to go inside the quotation mark with some exceptions, but I just think it looks awkward, so I'm going to try to distract you with a long parenthetical that really has nothing to do with anything).

So yes, by house, I mean extraordinarily beautiful and rather large piece of architecture set atop a hillside in Manila.

As a filmmaker, he's quite fortunate to have such locations at his disposal and as a photographer, I'm glad to be his friend haha, and not only because he is one of the most genuinely kind people I have ever met.

Anyway, the above is a shot of the ceiling/chandelier in the two-story, balcony-rimmed party house.

A separate structure for entertaining? And I thought my gift-wrapping room was borderline ... well, necessary.

Bangkok has a really sweet airport and if I hadn't been a tad rushed, there would have been cooler pictures.

Actually I had a whole conclusive schpeel (haha sp?) for this picture, but I forget now. The important part about it is that I was leaving to catch up with Cholo in Manila for what would be an epic journey north.

Sunrise over sea.


Hong Kong to Guangzhou to (almost Saigon)* to Bangkok means a lot of days at sea.


*This occurrence has prompted me to make a very productive life decision a lot sooner than I would have otherwise. That's how stupefying it happened to be.

Over a bottle of tequila at a dinner table in Pittsburgh one enchanted evening, John McClellan and I have a nice, long discussion about "novel ideas," you know, ideas that are just too good to pass up.

I receive this sometime much later:

john1amerpie: we had a tramp board
john1amerpie: but no tramp
john1amerpie: but some time on our hands
john1amerpie: so i had what i believed was a novel idea
john1amerpie: ...almost toasted my sprinkler system

CUT TO:

(sitting quietly at a table in an overly incandescent frame, interview style, hands folded)

john1amerpie: well...my pap always said "better to be a smartass than a dumbass"



Not being present for the above photo has made me reconsider my life goals. So, like yeah, slope shredding is totally on the agenda. duh.

A girl walks into an audio store in Mongkok to buy headphones after sufficient hours of research and a thought-provoking cab ride from a fantastic dinner. Sifting through six different currencies in her make-shift ziplock wallet, she hears the digital bleeps of the cash register and the oh-so-satisfying sound of the receipt paper spouting from the machine. In all of her eagerness, she politely motions to the Asian sales clerk that she really needs this bulky package open... and now, please.

And at last, the audio world is hers. After months of shit, she's pretty damn close to perfection. With the crisp sounds of the treble, the energy of the vocal midrange and the low, smooth flow of the bass, nothing else matters in the entire world. She would know, because she isn't exactly close to home.

Where to go from here? Doesn't matter. She cruises around Mongkok on foot, with no other objective in mind than to listen. She could only share the next few hours with some of her oldest friends, christening the ear pieces with arguably the masters of rock'n'roll: Pete, Keith, Roger and John. Perhaps it's a tribute to her dad that this motley crew beat out the likes of Jimmy, Robert and John^2, or perhaps she just wants to hear the re-mastered studio tracks as close as they were meant to be heard without the concert amps of the early 1970s.

If you don't know the album, shame on you. If you don't know the boys, you don't know the girl.

Any questions?


P.S. From Mozart's Concerto #6 in B Flat to "Flamenco Sketches" to the echoes on "Talk Show Host" to Gotan to uh, anything by Mariah Carey, these babies are, as Mr. Curda would say, "swingin'."

What a cool place. For a girl who loves stories just as much as her tea, she came to the right place. Opening in the early 1930s, Luk Yu Teahouse is not only rich in Chinese history and culture, but has somewhat of a darker side as well.

In November of 2002, a Chinese assassin casually walked into Luk Yu, had his breakfast, paid his bill, walked over to his target, shot him in the head and walked out. Totally B-movie, Hong-Kong-gangster style. If it wasn't unfortunately true, you would think the story had been scripted. Even the setting, the old ceiling fans to the aged wooden molding to the mirrored booths, is right off of the silver screen.

Its infamy aside, Luk Yu is most famous for its tea, dim sum (served from 7:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m.) and "indifferent" service, though I somehow missed the last part.

In fact, my waiter was great. Making friends rather quickly over discussions about such things as the perfect tea pot and Chinese dining etiquette, Sham ended up being my partner in crime in smuggling one of the tea pots out of the restaurant. Mind you, I had asked how much it would cost, but he simply shook his head, went back to the kitchen and came back with one of the pots wrapped in brown paper.

Shoving it in my vacant camera bag with his encouraging words of "quick, quick!" and slightly paranoid glances, I casually resumed my meal, quite happy with our stealth. About seven minutes later, Sham reappeared with five brown bags of Bo Lai (tea mentioned in previous entry), and again his, "quick, quick!"

So dessert rolled around and by Sham's recommendation, I ordered the almond cream, pictured above. I've had it before, but not like this. The egg whites were so smooth and each flavor of the soup, from the almonds to the thick cream, was so individually identifiable, but still created a wonderfully elegant combination of tastes. Gastronomic perfection in a bowl.

Slurping the soup and enjoying the last of my tea, Sham came back over with one of the tea cups and its matching saucer.

"Quick, quick!"

At this rate, I thought I was going to acquire the whole darn dining set and was beginning to worry about how much more I was going to be able to fit into my camera bag without looking like Robin Hood and Little John robbing the prince's caravan.

Needless to say, I left Sham a very nice tip for all of his "services" and decided it was about time to go buy some sweet headphones.

And not only did I find my headphones, but thirteen Hitchcock movies for six bucks.


This is what I call a great day.

Rat with wings or dinner...

Flying solo to Yung Kee in Central Hong Kong, I've grown quite accustomed to these dinners by myself. It's very difficult to coordinate eating schedules on this ship as everyone keeps very strange working hours, and consequently, very strange living hours. But hey, when culinary expeditions call my name, there's absolutely no refusing. I've certainly noticed the inquisitive glances from other tables, but I think that's because I frequently take pictures of my food. I mean, my chopstick skill level is at about an 8.75 now, so you can just go ahead and rule the "clumsy Caucasian with chopsticks" reason out... thank you very much.

Finding the award-winning menu to be quite enticing, I sat down to an overwhelming selection of Cantonese cuisine. Fresh out of snake soup (just like those appendage-less little creatures...the nerve), I went with a delightful shrimp won-ton soup and Bo Lai (a fermented black tea, most popular in Hong Kong) to accompany this little bird. To end the meal, I ordered a standard Chinese dessert called tong shui, which is (in this case) a sweet red bean soup used to moderate body temperature and regulate the digestive system, or so they say.

For my money (178 HK, about 22 US), I was very satisfied. Pigeon is a bit on the livery side, but believe it or not, it's pretty far down on the list of strange things I've digested since I left the U.S.

Hong Kong Fashion Week didn't go exactly as I had planned, but I suppose that is all right. Still in the process of arranging tickets for the last of the 50some models that have been working here since December, let's just say that my usual jobs have been put on hold. The only good thing, I think, that can come out of this is that I now know how to handle international visas for Lithuania, Latvia, Russia, Serbia, Hungary, Romania and Estonia - so if I ever decide to pursue a career as a port agent, I'll have a super head start.

Needless to say, because I needed to make sure the girls cleared immigration, I was unfortunately only able to shoot 2 of the 14 shows that ran through the past 4 days. I have a feeling there will be many more in my career, so I'm not so bummed.

NYC's Fall '08 Fashion Week, the epitome of fashion insanity, is coming up February 1-8 I think. I will miss it by a week or two, but I know my good friend, Lucas Buck, will deal without me if I promise to buy him falafel. Right, Luke?

Cecilia Yau accepting flowers following the debut of her Fall/Winter Collection '08 during Hong Kong's fashion week.

First of all, I'd like to mention that this picture was supposed to immediately follow the picture below. Same night, both pictures shot with my little tiny Canon camera.

Today's story begins yesterday at about 7:00 p.m. with some massive frustration aboard this little ship. Busier than busy can get, doing my job and 10 others (when the photographer is booking tickets for the entire ship, you've got a problem) and having slept about 10 hours over the past three days, I was not so enamored when the IT guy (unfortunately for him) walked in after a crowd with 50 demands involving the internet had just walked out.


Me: "What's the problem?"
IT Guy: "Well, as ze ship,(makes tilting motion with his hand), mast block signal, so not much internet."
Me: "How much is not much?"
IT Guy: (shrugs his shoulders) "Eh, here and there."

Poor guy.

With more curse words in more languages than have ever been uttered at a computer in one moment, I slammed my laptop shut, grabbed my backpack and made my way to the tender to take me ashore in a vain attempt to get some work done. Being that I had no internet to research wifi spots, I got into a cab and asked to be taken to Hong Kong's public library, hoping that it was close, but if it wasn't, I really didn't care.

Well, the fact that it ended up being close was too good to be true, because when I got there and tried to connect, I quickly found out that the library had blocked all sites not to be used for intellectual gain. No email + no FTP server = no good.

I stared at my screen for a bit, realized that that wasn't going to help, threw my backpack on and started walking. I found two of three wifi spots I had looked up at the library by foot, but of course, one was closed and the other was having server issues.

This is when I said, to hell with it, I'm going to buy shampoo.

Walking around Hong Kong alone, particularly at night, is always an interesting experience for me, particularly this time. The American with jeans, flip-flops, backpack, hoodie and half-brushed hair sticks out just a little in the massive crowd of impeccably well-dressed, stylish, perfectly groomed Asians in Hong Kong.

I don't kid when I say that everyone looks like they stepped out of a fashion magazine. To quote my boss, "it's like everyone has their own salon in their basement." From their boots to their hair, I think these people are just born with undeniable fashion sense.

But enough of that... by the time midnight rolled around, I headed back to the pier to catch the tender, completely ignoring the fact that the tenders only come back to shore on every hour. As I pulled up to Pier 9, I watched the tender pull away.

Crap.

I did realize that I had my little consumer camera though, so I decided to kill the time by exploring all of the sky-walks (open walk-ways over the street) by the pier... which is where I found this lovely little sign. There are two things I consistently love about each place I go to in Asia: 1) the brooms and 2) the English signs. For some reason all the signs I find usual accompany a good story, so maybe that's why I like them.

Anyway, I never really thought about how one would spell the word "hawking," but I suppose that's it. It would have been a better picture if I caught someone disobeying, but life isn't always perfect. I like how the quadrants of this picture go from light to dark - the sign in the upper left, the city through the open window, bottom right.

Ok, so, 12:40 I went back to the pier, no one around. The wind was blowing and holy cow was it cold. I watched a couple stroll down to the end of the pier and embrace. My thought was somewhere in between: are you guys nuts? and that's really sweet.

I put my backpack on the bench and lay back, just thinking, thinking about how crazy it is to be in a different place and entirely on your own. About how little effort it took to make this all happen. I suppose some of the best things can only come that way.

10 to 1, some of the Vietnamese waitresses showed up. I like these girls because, despite the wide language gap, there's this cool, yet distant understanding between us. Maybe it's because, irritatingly enough, I'm the only person on the ship who will never let them take my dishes back to the kitchen, but who knows.

To conclude this epic entry, the wind continued to blow, and I progressively got visibly colder. Yes, shaking. Unexpectedly, the smallest of the girls came over to me and wrapped her tiny arms around me. I can't say that it helped much, but it was the kindest thing I had experienced since the old fisherwoman in Bantayan in the Philippines. Of the four Vietnamese girls there, she was the only one whom I didn't know.

There's a lot of shit that comes with this job, but when you have awesome moments, let me tell you, they. are. priceless.

I'm ashamed to say this, but I have no idea what this giant corn-on-the-cob was doing in the middle of Hong Kong.

The first evening back in Hong Kong, Dwight and Cholo, plus the Romanian light guys and I headed out to find dinner. We made the brash decision to leave the ship at about 11:30 with no maps or ideas of where to eat, in hopes of making our experience, well, more of an experience.

And I can say that we were quite successful. Our late night walk around Hong Kong turned into "Inappropriate Phrases In Other Languages: 101". That's actually one of the best parts of being away from home and in working environments such as this. I often forget that aside from the British captain, I am the only native English speaker on board. It's very weird to think that way, but it makes my contributions to such conversations less fun. And as a side note, guy talk in other languages is funny. Maybe better than in English.

Furthermore, I've confirmed that many of the Balkan States don't have curse words in their native tongues, but do indeed borrow them from the Serbians. I read about that awhile ago, but just thought that I would publish that confirmation for those that I told this to.


P.S. - That is one lengthy noodle.

Buddha says:

Better than a mule
Or the fine horses of Sindh
Or mighty elephants of war
Is the man who has mastered himself.

Dr. Seuss says:

I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. An elephant's word is one hundred percent.

Groucho Marx says:

One morning I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got into my pajamas I'll never know. (Animal Crackers, 1930)

Who would have guessed it, the American wasn't allowed off of the ship in Sanya. A big boooo to that. Apparently, there is a list of 7 or so countries that are not even allowed to apply for a visa when docked in Sanya's port. It's nice to know that the US is in the company of Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Nigeria, Sri Lanka and I forget the last one, but I think you get the point.

SO, since I've been on the ship for the past 6 days and shot nothing but events and sunrises, I decided to flash back to Koh Chang for a bit. I loved Koh Chang. Beautiful beaches, great food and of course.... elephants. Just f.y.i, koh in Thai means island and chang means elephant.

I consider this shot a "mission accomplished" piece, because before I even made my move to the Philippines, a photographer friend, specializing in war coverage for Getty, asked me to send him a picture of me with an elephant. Being that I had no idea I would be going all over SE Asia this fast, I was kind of perplexed as to where I would find this elephant in the Philippines, but that really wasn't going to stop me from trying.

Since I consider this whole ship shindig a "world preview" anyway, it doesn't really matter that I didn't get to explore as much as I would have liked to, because a return trip will most certainly happen.

I think I need to say, despite my doubt, that this ship really did New Year's Eve well. The party and fashion show, held in Saigon, were quite beautiful with over 1,500 people in attendance.

The story of my NYE is not so much entertaining as a severe reality check for me, one that has been such a long time coming. I was already in a less-than-chipper mood, which could have possibly been the less direct cause of some minor disagreements with the head of production, but the result of that argument was what I ended up enjoying the most.

Because I lost the battle, I was sent outside the ship to take photos of arriving guests on the red carpet. I was being snobby and didn't want to play snap-shooter, until I realized that there was a beautiful string quintet playing just outside the ship.

As I waited for guests, I made friends with the musicians, as I seem to have a knack for doing, and had a grand old time... for about an hour I had my own live set - anything I wanted to hear. This was great because it reminded me of my music life back at home, which was just what I needed as I had been going through Damnwell, Clark and Jon Check withdrawal. I miss the boys. I miss hitting the road with whoever asks me, whenever they ask me.

So in true New Year fashion and realizing that I've exceeded everything I said I was going to do up until this point, I've decided that if I can't unpack my very little, but ever present, nonsensical, retroactive baggage, it's getting tossed overboard. Pardon my Visayan, but fuck it. Life looks too good, too fresh from where I am standing... which at the moment, is Sanya, China.

So really, the reason the candy canes never saw the oven of this ship is not because I wasn't feeling spunky, but it's because I ended up here Christmas morning...

(Koh Rang, Thailand)

Let me tell you, shopping for and baking 2000 cookies on your own isn't exactly easy. Especially provided that you are in Thailand and need to find 20 packs of round rainbow sprinkles, amongst a variety of other non-Asian ingredients, all of which are packaged according to the metric system. (Mental picture: me in a Thai grocery store trying to do the conversions and then the multiplications of the 2-dozen-yield recipes in my head)

As my Christmas present for everyone on board (regardless of the overwhelming presence of Israelis), I had planned to bake 2 different kinds of cookies by the 25th (and a 3rd pain-in-the-butt-candy-cane cookie if I was feeling spunky) and if you've talked to me in the past week or so, you know that time-wise, this was close to impossible, as we have been crazy busy with preparation for our biggest event of the year. So while the Christmas party on the 24th was raging, I planted myself in the kitchen and went to work.

The coolest part about this, well there are 3 cool things, was that 1) much to my surprise, chocolate chip cookies are not as international as this little naive American had thought (most people had never had them before), 2) Oksy, our restaurant manager, hugged me for about 20 minutes because my baking reminded her of her grandmother's and 3) all of the Vietnamese cooks stayed with me for a majority of the night because they wanted to learn the recipe. As the cookies baked, we had a few kitchen-rock-out sessions with my ipod, which is something I will never forget. I will also never forget the huge fight I had with the head chef at 5 a.m. when I insisted I was going to clean all of the pans and utensils because if I didn't, "my mother would feel it in her bones all the way back in the U.S.," so for my mom's sake, he let me do it. Quite the Christmas Eve, I must say.

And yes, ladies and gentlemen, cookies make people happy. Going around the whole ship from the gangway, to the engine-room, to the bridge, to the pool-deck, to the you-name-it-I-was-there, I couldn't have had a warmer Christmas.

Of the cookie pictures, I like this one the best because of the lower-right-hand corner. Notice there are significantly less in this tray than all of the others... damage done by the cooks, wait-staff annnd yours truly one Christmas Eve in Koh Chang, Thailand.

After about a month in Bangkok, and on our final day (this was about a week ago, before leaving for Koh Chang), I finally found the time to get to the Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew.

I made the decision to go at about 5 a.m. when I had finished work that morning so, I read a little, grabbed some early breakfast and headed out to explore. I knew I wouldn't get to see it if I didn't go then, so sleep seemed to be even less of a priority than usual.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to devote as much attention as I would have liked to it as my phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing, but still, it was better than not going at all.

This shot is a perfect example of me thinking in desktops/wallpapers when out shooting. However, I am particularly fond of this one because it wasn't until I made it my wallpaper that I realized that the design was a peacock.

Fortunately, my eye is a little sharper than my brain, so I framed it just as I would have had I realized it was a bird.... and despite my childhood traumas with peacocks, I love this shot.

Need a hand little guy?

One of the two Golden Phra Chedis (or pagodas) at Wat Phra Kaew, constructed during King Rama I's reign.

Since there will be a lull in interesting subject matter for the next few days and I've been stuck on the ship for the previous few days, I thought I would give my monthly Linda check-up with what I wouldn't really consider interesting as so much funny.

So, not only was this one of the most fun productions of my career, but it's also rather entertaining to anyone who knows the girl pictured - jeans, t-shirts, flip-flops and an ipod full of rock'n'roll are a must 98% of the time.

So aside from being a funny picture (to me), this sign was the start of a great little adventure.

So there we were on the Bangkok Skytrain filming a "day in the life of" segment, which involves following a model for a day. When we cut the scene and had not yet arrived at the destination, Annabelle and I had a seat and started to chat about our next mode of transportation to get us to the casting (with the help of our one and only map).

Right before we arrived at our stop, I spotted this sign out of the corner of my eye and needed to snap a shot. Successfully doing so, I was quite relieved when I realized the skytrain's doors had not closed quite yet... that is, until I dropped my lens cap.

And you guessed it, as I went to pick it up, the doors slammed shut and I was on my way to the next stop - without a crew, without a map, without a phone (it had been given to another production team), and only 100 baht (about $3.00).

And I didn't really care. The prospect of finding the casting in the middle of Bangkok without any of the necessary tools seemed like a good time.

After an hour of "lost in translation" moments and a few motorbike rides, I finally made it back to the team. I mean, I was on a mission.

There's obviously a longer version of this story, but this is a bit of why this picture is absolutely unforgettable.

Meh, not a bad place to hang out.

(Koh Lao Ya, Thailand)

What would you do if you were invited to the King of Thailand's 80th birthday celebration?

Well, go, obviously.

All kidding aside, this was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Thousands, I mean thousands of people, singing as one nation by the glow of yellow candlelight.

The best part? We had front row seats to this once-in-a-lifetime event. Literally, once in a lifetime. Because Buddha passed away at 80, the King's 80th is treated in a different manner than all past and future birthdays. Not only was it a bigger event, but everything in the vicinity of the Grand Palace was lit with white light. Beautiful.

As a final note for the blog, I would like to say that the devotion to this one man is unreal. You see it on the street everyday, but it just doesn't hit you until you see what I saw on the 5th.

Or until you get thrown in jail or deported for speaking ill of the King, whichever comes first.

All the little dots in the background are the candles lit on the stage.

Since I wasn't getting answers from anyone (including the internet) about the appropriate dress code for the King's birthday, I just wore the one and only dress I have with me, which is black, and borrowed a wrap from one of the models in case bare shoulders were not appropriate. As it turns out, the shoulders were fine, but it was the black that was somewhat inappropriate. As the color of Monday in Buddhism, yellow is very important because the King was born on a Monday. Black, as you may have guessed, is the color of death.

Yeah, I know. I felt like an idiot for about 30 seconds, particularly when standing on stage in front of an entire Thai nation clad in yellow, that is until I started speaking with the woman pictured.

She told me that the King said, "It isn't the color you are wearing, but it's what's in your heart that counts."

Cliche perhaps, but it made this little Westerner feel much better about her ignorant wardrobe selection.

Sawatdee ka, little Miss.

One of the most incredible evenings of my life.

Haha. Thailand's version of um, snowmen...

I don't even know what to say.

I think the one has rolls for buttons.