The Time Has Come

It is undeniable that women have been subject to centuries of patriarchal oppression. The glass ceiling continues to be broken, but we are decades away from true equality. However, there is one space in which men have secretly coveted the life of a woman: society encouraging her to carry a purse.

Social mores have dictated that a man with a handbag or purse is simply unacceptable. Somehow, there is a fine line between a hip, cool, smaller messenger bag and a ridiculous, absurd, man purse; a fine, gay line. This seemingly trivial distinction has caused years of pain for men. The more technology progresses, the more devices we must carry. From the patrician in the Middle Ages who had a set of really big-ass keys, to the modern man who has keys, a wallet, phones, blackberrys, and iPods all tucked into his pockets. Jeans get tighter but the objects needed to carry around become more plentiful.

In 2005 I thought there was a moment where I thought I would be forced to take the plunge into manhandbags. I had a phone, a blackberry for work, an ipod, and a wallet (or money clip, being the trader that I was)….my denim was just not equipped for such an arsenal. The advent of the iPhone saved me from this pain by consolidating devices, but I never gave up the dream. During these years the gays and the hipsters have made futile efforts at executing the manbag, but never with great success.

Now…it is time. When Steve Jobs says the iPad will change everything, it really will. After a few weeks with my iPad, I want to take it everywhere with me, whether for a day of school or a casual trip to a café. At the size of a slightly larger book you definitely don't need a backpack or even messenger bag, but it doesn't stand a chance of fitting in your pockets (maybe in a pair of Cross Colors from the early 90s). It needs something in the middle, and that middle ground is the man purse. While a self-professed Apple fanboy, I genuinely believe tablet PCs will become the standard. It really, truly is time for the man purse.

Me Like Asia - Political Edition

It has been a while. What can I say, school finally came around and started kicking my ass and blogging has spiraled to the bottom of the the to-do list. If you ever are contemplating business school and attend one of those presentations where some peppy ex-banker tells you, "There really aren't enough hours in the day for all the AMAZING activities," for better or for worse, it's definitely true.

At the conclusion of our first set of exams I visited Cambodia. I would strongly recommend the temples of Siem Reap as one of the more amazing sites I've visited, but also wanted to relay a story I heard along the way.

I had just finished a visit to S-21, or the Tuol Sleng Genocide museum, and needless to say, was in a somewhat reflective mood. We went out to dinner, where I sat near a classmate's boyfriend who currently works in Phnomh Penh. I was still somewhat confused regarding the timeline of the Khmer Rouge rule and he provided a thorough explanation of how events unfolded over the years. It made the idea that this city and nation were fully operational and alive even having been absolutely ravaged during my lifetime. What was even more fascinating was learning about the transition in Cambodian leadership over the years.

Even after the Khmer Rouge was officially was defeated by an alliance of Vietnamese forces and disaffected former members in 1979, they maintained a share of power until 1993 when after years of negotations, King Sihanouk returned to power (he had originally ruled form 1941 to 1970). King Sihanouk ruled until he suddenly abdicated his throne in 2004, citing health reasons and leaving for Pyongyang and Beijing to receive treatment. I found it somewhat odd that someone would leave their own country to fly to North Korea for medical treatment, but I won't judge.

Which leaves us with Cambodia's current ruler: King Sihamoni. His Italian mother was one of King Sihanouk's "companions" when he met her at a beauty contest sponsored by UNESCO. I question the shadiness of a 1950s UNESCO beauty contest that leads to a Cambodian King impregnating an Italian woman, but again, I won't judge. Sihamoni lived outside of Cambodia most of his childhood but did return to Cambodia during the Khmer Rouge rule, thinking the regime would be friendly to the former royal family. He was however placed under house arrest and remained in Cambodia until 1981, where he moved to France to pursue a 20 year career as a ballet teacher.

Yes, the Crown Prince of Cambodia became a ballet teacher in France. This is certainly where the randomness of the story was taken to the next level. Apparently, throughout Cambodia it's an unspoken fact that their current King is gay. I was amazed that this nation that less than 30 years ago was being destroyed by an authoritarian regime was tolerant and reverent of a gay King. Perhaps it's my frame of reference with US values, but against the backdrop of what I had just seen at the Genocide Museum, this liberal attitude was simply unreal.

The former King Sihanouk has shown a tremendous progressiveness himself, declaring in 2004 after watching gay marriages take place in San Francisco, that he fully backed gay marriage. When commenting on his son Sihamoni's bachelor status, he said that Sihamoni, "loves women likes he loves his sisters." I'm not sure exactly where the King was going with that, but once again, I won't judge.

Hurts So Good

One of the best parts of living in Singapore is the ethnic enclaves. New York definitely had its fair share, but around here, when you go to Chinatown, it really feels like China. When you're in Little India, the smells and the sweat are just like you're walking the streets of Calcutta. I went down to Little India the other day to witness the Thaipusam festival.

Thaipusam is a festival originated by the Tamil people of South India that's celebrated widely by the Tamil expat communities in Singapore and Malaysia. The story is standard: A people (the Devas), were losing battle after battle to a stronger enemy (the Asuras), and prayed to the Lord (Shiva), who then enabled them to victory. The festival is supposed to be an offering of gratitude.

Standard story, not so standard offering of gratitude. My experience with offerings in Hinduism have been throwing some flowers and repeating lines given to me by a priest. These guys? This isn't just "going to church on Christmas and Easter". They take it to the next level. Bodily mutilation and adorning oneself with a massive decorative canopy supported through hooks attached to your body? If that's not an offering, I don't know what is.

As the Olympics have just begun and in the spirit of international competition, I've been wondering how there isn't any sort of international event that pits religious bodily mutilators against one another. The Shi'ite expressions of Ashura, the Firewalkers honoring Draupathi, and even good old fashioned Catholic self-flagellators all engage in extreme activities that test the bounds of human thresholds for pain. Isn't this just asking for a ESPN production team to jump on it? They've made everything from the Worlds Strongest Man to Poker become big television events, can anyone get on this?

Thank you to my new iPhone 3GS and "Genesis" by Justice for the following video:

Me like Asia, Part 1

My new toothpaste:

Darlie toothpaste has a somewhat absurd and amazing past. It was started by a Taiwanese company and called 黑人 or Hei Ren...which means "black people". Yup, that logo is exactly what you think it might be. A somewhat minstrel-like throwback that promises Asians a smile as bright as 'black people'. The logo has actually been toned down from its slightly more intensely racist past.

It gets worse...Darlie became the new name for the brand after the Taiwanese company was acquired by Colgate-Palmolive in 1985. Can you guess what its name was before?

Yup...you guessed correctly. It was "Darkie".

Thinking 'bout music

It was a few years back...I had just discovered the Shazam iPhone app which "recognizes" songs just from a short clip. A few of us were watching a video on MTV that featured scenes from a tropical paradise and a very laid-back song. The song seemed that much more amazing as there was snow outside and it was one of those NYC days where it gets dark by 5pm. One of us pulled out an iPhone and "Shazam'ed" it:

Jason Mraz - I'm Yours.

Now...the natural reaction of the three guys in the room was "no one must ever hear of this". Our entire masculinity and musical credibility was crashing in front of our eyes into American Idol style awfulness. At the time, I never questioned why there was such a visceral anti-Jason Mraz reaction for 28 year old New York males who like to think of themselves as musically and culturally knowledgable. Somehow, we managed to survive the incident with our collective heterosexuality intact.

Fast forward two years...I'm at INSEAD and have met a big Arabic dude who also plays guitar. The guy is solid at guitar and has a great taste in music, even possessing an extensive knowledge of jazz and classical. In addition, he smokes a pack a day and is a hard drinker..overall, not what I'd picture of a Jason Mraz fan.

We sit down to play guitar together and the first song he suggests is I'm Yours. I was a little in shock, and even commented that I would've guessed in his native country, if he were to make this suggestion, there might be a fatwa issued against him. His only response was, "it's a good song, man." I instantly thought back to the wintry, NYC Shazam incident and was baffled how differently the song was perceived by relatively similar types of people.

It then dawned on me how refreshing it is to listen to music without preconceptions about the artists. When I would get excited about "The Mouse Loves the Rice" in Beijing, my friends who were longtime residents would scoff, but damnit, I loved the song. I can't imagine that Spanish hipsters would've looked positively on my friend and I going crazy everytime we heard Dragosta Din Tei in Barcelona in '04, but we still jumped up and down. Even my Dad, who is very into music, has to look the other way when I come back from India blasting some random new Hindi movie song.

I've realized that's the best part of picking up new music while traveling. You listen to the music with absolutely no idea of what 'cool' is. Chances are, you'll be listening to some uber-pop song, and the only question you ask yourself is "do I like how this song sounds?" It basically transports us back to the time where you're 10 years old and you only take in music from Top 40 stations and older siblings. There's no additional value in talking about your latest underground hip hop or soundscape album, and attempting to discern deep house from soulful trance has no meaning. All that matters is, do I like it?

I think I'm gonna go put on some Coldplay.....

Singlish Lah!

I'm finally back in the sweaty paradise that is Singapore. Minutes after stepping off the plane and having the customs agent ask me for my passport, I heard it: the sweet singsong of Singlish.

Singlish is the Singaporean version of English. The core of the language is the same as any other version of English, but the pronunciation is somewhat insane. Basically, the tonal nature of Chinese and Malay languages creep their way in, and create this crazy mix that sounds kind of like a rastafarian Chinaman. The weird part is, unlike native Chinese speakers who speak English with a heavy accent, for many Singaporeans, English is in fact their native language. It's just their own special flavor.

(and yes, this is all in English)

In addition to general pronunciation there's a bunch of phrases and words that are completely different from American or British English. A few basic ones to help anyone practice some Singlish:

- "Can" and "Cannot": To answer a yes or no question, Singaporeans answer with can or cannot. It technically makes logical sense, but definitely sounds foreign and random. For example, if you were to ask "Can I take the subway all the way to the airport?" the answer will be "can". Not only do they say 'can', but similar to the American style of saying "yeah, yeah, yeah", they will actually say "can, can, can".

- "Lah": I constantly hear people adding the phrase "lah" to the end of sentences and the practice was explained to me as basically making direct, abrasive statements more polite. Instead of telling someone "No, I dont want to buy that" you can simply say "Cannot buy, lah". The simplest, and most common usage, is in an affirmative response saying, "Okay, can lah".

- "Stylo Milo": One of my favorites, if something is just really cool you can call it "stylo milo". A taxi driver explained to me that back in the day, the drink Milo was only drank by rich British and Australians on the island, hence its association with something fashionable. "Stylo" can also be used by itself to indicate something is elegant or fashionable, and if something is just that damn cool, it's "Stylo Milo".

I imagine there is going to be a good deal more to learn of Singlish, but for now I am just adding Lah to the end of every sentence until everyone gets so annoyed they just cease speaking to me.

Here We Go Again

"You going home, or away from home?"

That's what the middle-aged, goateed dude, with a Tacoma Rainiers minor league baseball cap asked me as we landed in the Seattle airport. It could be the ultimate "starting small talk" on a plane question, but I was more surprised by my inability to answer. 2009 was year of ridiculous flux and 2010 will be just as transitional. It'll be a while before I'm settled in one location and can answer the question definitively.

I'm finally done with my 3 months of back rehab in Lexington. I managed to avoid any downward spiral worthy of great art, and am heading back out to Singapore for my MBA, Take 2. The plan is to stay in Singapore until the end of April, and then out to France for at least the summer and potentially through graduation in December (the INSEAD MBA always sounds absurd when writing out decision processes like this). INSEAD has an August intake that graduates in July ('10J), and a January intake that graduates in December ('10D), and due to the injury I'll just be switching to the '10D class.

When I first came home in my Quasimodo-like state in October, I was nervous both about the recovery, and also just hanging out in Lexington for 3 months. It turned out to be a pretty amazing time, as conveniently (albeit, sadly) it seemed that there was no shortage of other friends who nowadays had plenty of "free time" on there hands. Campaigns were ran, debates were judged, fancy cocktails were drank, clues were found, holidays were had, football was watched, and culture was got. I just wanted to thank everyone I got to see in the past few months for making my time on the disabled list not only bearable, but damn enjoyable.

As I cycled through these memories, I turned to the pasty, goateed Northwesterner and could only answer, "brother, I'm leaving home."

*That actually wasn't my answer. I just got kinda awkward and somehow parlayed his deep question into a conversation about minor league baseball and Seattle-area snowboarding, but still, it sounds so much better and I would've meant it.