Dangerous Quantities of Biltong

I don't consider vegetarianism a disease...just an ill-conceived life choice. I sometimes feel bad thinking this way, considering my Indian roots, but meat is just so damn good. If dinner is being served, no matter how good the starches and vegetables look, my eyes and stomach are waiting for the real deal.

South Africa has introduced me to a whole new level of meat happiness: Biltong. It's basically beef jerky on steroids. The beef jerky you find in the US is usually leathery and bland (disclaimer: I still like it for long road trips for some odd reason) and I had always wondered, "Can they make the beef jerky experience just a little bit closer to consuming cooked meat?"

Ladies and gentlemen, South Africa has answered this question. Biltong is a cured, dried, and often spiced preparation of various meats (usually beef, but also ostrich and kudu out here). In the process, not only do they use much thicker cuts of meat, but the inclusion of vinegar in the drying process creates a product that balances chewiness and softness in the absolute perfect combination. Some of the cuts even retain a little bit of somewhat dried fat on them, which might sound a bit disgusting, but adds this insanely good texture and taste. You basically feel like you're eating a great piece of steak, on the go.

It gets even more decadent. The other day I was introduced to 'rare beef biltong'. They somehow dry the outside of the meat while keeping the center a sandwich roast-beef dark red, that amazingly is just dried enough that it doesn't need to be refrigerated. Combining this with a glass of local Pinotage (a spicy wine from a grape unique to South Africa) makes you feel like you've discovered a Zagat's guide to the African bush.

Safari Randomness

In my former life as a trader, there were sometimes over-the-top steak dinners that resulted in what I call the "meat sweats". That feeling where you don't really feel overly full or nauseous, but you wake up in middle of the night just feel uneasy as you kind of feel your body digesting. It was interesting to see that apparently I eat meat in a similar manner to lions, as we found a lion who had a half-eaten buffalo next to him absolutely in pain. He was breathing hard and just on his back with a huge tummy, rolling around. He looked completely content and awful at the same time.

The different animal collective nouns are absolutely insane. By this I mean the word for a group, i.e. herd of elephant or pride of lions. Some amazing ones I had never heard of were:journey of giraffe, tribe of baboons, murder of crows, crash of hippopotami, clan of hyenas,leap of leopards, and troop of monkeys. I now can imagine the conversation that spawned Animal Collective's band name.

The most common animals around were the Impalas. They're a type of antelope that somehow, someone from Chevy heard of back in the day. It was almost ritual that on everyone's first day of safari, they'd get really excited when they saw a group of these pretty boys, and everyone else would kind of roll their eyes.

Apparently they're called the "McDonalds of the bush" for a few reasons:

1) They actually have what looks to be a big 'M' tattooed on their backsides

2) They're so common that they're basically the low-quality, easily accessible "game" for people on safari

3) They actually are the easiest prey for lions and leopards. They can barely fight back and are so plentiful that predators can easily take out a few in any given attack.

My favorite random fact: Rhinos penises are actually "recurved" meaning that it kinda curves back through their legs. This allows them to spray pee backwards to mark their territory. Both rangers I came across made the exact same awful joke when pointing this fact out (in both safaris we observed them reverse-spraying)…saying "it took me a few weeks to learn how to do it myself!" Hey-o!

Apparently when female buffalos are ready to mate, they will actually mount another female to demonstrate to the male that they are ready…not dissimilar from a drunk, heterosexual coed making out with another girl at a party (I am using the term 'coed' because I am now over 30).

Hippos used to hold the title of the killer of the most humans for years until very recently in South Africa. Lions have taken over due to a very random geopolitical development. Illegal immigrants from Mozambique apparently have been flooding over the border and the least guarded route is through Kruger National Park. They cross in middle of the night to avoid rangers, but unfortunately lion's are mainly nocturnal hunters. Unfortunate.

Rangers and trackers speak to each other in a mix of Sangaan, Zulu, and English. Leopards are called "ingwey" and a lion is an "ingala", while a male is "madodo" and female is "mufazi". The entire time they'd be speaking to each other about what they thought might be around and say things like "mufazi ingwey on bellway peak chasing madodo kudwa". I feel like I now understand the lyrics to the opening song in Lion King.

Where Cargo Pants Are Still Okay

I want to begin this entry with the disclaimer that I've never been a particularly outdoorsy guy. I've definitely never tried hunting. I always suspected that bird watching was just a cover for child molesters. Even factoring all this in, the experience of an African safari is up there as one of the most amazing of my life.

What exactly constitutes a South African safari? It seems like it should be obvious but I wasn't completely sure what I was getting myself into. The objective is to see or find "game", a term that I thought was only used in hunting. In South Africa, there's a collective called the "Big Five" that's made up of lions, leopards, rhinos, elephants, and buffalo. The more of these you see, the "better the game" in a given area. One evening we saw a leopard eating an impala (a type of antelope) that had dragged the body up into a tree to protect it from hyenas and was busy ripping into it. That game would definitely be considered lekker (an all-purpose South Africanism for "very cool", "tasty", or even "sexy").

There are two ways to do a safari in the Kruger National Park area in South Africa: one is to "self-drive" around the park. I attempted this for one morning and considering I was flying solo, between trying to concentrate on driving and having absolutely no clue what I was looking for, I didn't see much game.

The other way is to book a stay with a Private Game Reserve. North of the park, there are large plots of land owned by resort-type lodges. After the self-drive disaster, I booked a few nights and am eternally glad I did. I'll post later about the specific lodges, but basically, you wake up around 5:30am for the morning game drive. You load up on a large, open land cruiser that's outfitted to seat up to 9 passengers in addition to the driver and a 'tracker'. You then drive around all morning 'tracking game'.

The whole tracker concept was absurd and amazing at the same time. I went to two different lodges during my stay, and both times the tracker was a local African who grew up in a surrounding village or town, giving them a solid knowledge of the bush. As you drive around, the tracker is seated up in front of the vehicle on this extension seat thing. The coolest part was he'll coolly sit up there as we're driving around, and occasionally, when none of the passengers would notice anything, make a little rightward hand flick and the driver would stop. Without fail, there would be a lion or some other game hiding between trees or hidden in tall grass. Often he'll tell the ranger to stop driving when he sees tracks in the dirt and then inspect those tracks to decide where to head next. When the sun went down, he'd shine a spotlight around and sometimes spot animals just by the reflection of their eyes.

Cruising around with Tracker Gideon and Ranger Chase

The one main rule, which still blows my mind, is you have to absolutely stay seated the entire time. Apparently, the animals are used to seeing the shape and hearing the sounds of the land cruiser with seated passengers from birth so are not threatened at all by it. If you're to stand up, and especially if you get out of the vehicle, then you're just a human and it's dinnertime if they're hungry or threatened.

I seriously cannot describe how crazy it is when you're about four feet from a lion ripping apart a buffalo, or even a leopard stalking in the grass hunting a kudu (another antelope). There are moments you even begin to be convinced that the animals are somehow in on itand are taking a cut. However, we were about ten feet from an elephant at one point who suddenly turned around towards us and snorted a few times and stuck his ears out. The ranger absolutely floored it in reverse and later told us that is a definite sign of an impending charge, and that occasionally the animals do charge if a ranger is careless. Enjoy.

After the morning drive, you eat a huge breakfast and then chill out for a few hours. They have optional "bush walks" where a ranger will take you around on foot to parts deemed safe to walk and talk about plants and animals. I went on one which featured Jeffrey, an African ranger, who was extremely animated and somewhat incomprehensible. As we walked he kept telling stories about animals attacking irresponsible rangers and tourists and then would laugh heartily at the end of each one.

After a smaller lunch, you head out for the sunset drive that lasts for another 3-4 hours. The experience is similar to the morning one, but you see certain animals more frequently and in different situations. An added benefit of the evening drive was as the sun is setting, the ranger finds a relatively open field and parks. You jump out and they set up a table contraption attached to the land cruiser. It's 'Puza' time. Apparently, 'puza' is a term for drinking/drinks and can be used as a verb or noun. They'll pull out a bunch of booze and some biltong and other snacks and you puza as the sun sets, before heading out for another hour or so. (Fun Fact: Apparently liquor brands will sponsor nights like "Puza Thursdays" at bars and clubs in cities)

After the sunset drive, you have a large dinner in a fairly communal setting. I have to say, you can only imagine the cast of characters you'll meet at one of these. Throw in a bunch of wine and the conversations were absolutely unreal.

As I mentioned above, I generally don't crave the outdoors (I did live in New York City for over seven years) but the safari experience is something I'd recommend to everyone. Seeing animals like lions and rhinos from mere feet away is something you can barely process. Even driving around in the open land cruiser through the bush was somehow relaxing. It's a pain in the ass getting out here and the whole experience isn't exactly budget, but I'd strongly, strongly recommend everyone at some point in their lives to experience an African safari.

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.