transtrion

The trip was amazing, not completely sane and possibly the best natural sights I've ever seen. It involved over-extending, starving, darkness and climbing. It involved new friends, new experiences and new preferences. It involved a lot of nature, a lot of walking and a lack of beds. To make it something to remember did it all occur a bit too much at the same time. Not quite in the mood to tell the full tale, but pics above are related.

A weekend retreat to the mountains of Seoraksan started of at platform 4,5. The bus ride was "magical".

After months of traveling through Asia, enduring sickness and mending wounds, climbing, crawling, sprinting and swimming, I finally arrived in Seoul, South Korea. How many times I've imagined that day, for years I've been playing with the idea of actually one day visiting this Mecca of E-Sports, and now I had only one thing on my mind; Starcraft.

It just a computer game, but a computer game I've played since I was 12, now 20, and watched the professionals play from streams since before they had English commentary. In the past year has this game grown rapidly in popularity, now with major tournaments going on all over the world. But it's always been about Korea, now and then, and coming here to see the place I've watched trough my computer was truly a dream come true.

Nothing else was really important during my stay. I was here to watch Starcraft and as much Starcraft as I could fit in that time. On the first day I headed out to the GOMtv studio for the GSL Code A matches, heart pounding and eyes distantly dreaming, with absolutely no idea what to expect. Kaldor, one of the commentators, greeted me, spoke to me and joked with me. I didn't know how to react, instead of bursting out with energy as I should, I got silent, timid. This was not even the man I've watched since old. This was not Nick 'Tasteless' Plott, the first English commentary in Korea, who I've since he started four years ago have listened to, learned from, laughed with and looked upon from the other side of the world, still this Kaldor managed to move me so much.

Obviously I went there the next day, but now they were shooting Code S, the highest of the leagues. This meant other casters, in particular the duo I hoped would be back from their casting in the States. I was a bit late and it was raining as I ran through the streets towards the GOMtv studio. Entering the studio a bit absentminded just as they were going live, I saw Artosis in his casting booth. He smiled at me.

I might be a bias fanboy, but Dan 'Artosis' Stemkoski is one of the two I've listened most to in the past year, to me one of the highest, if not the highest, authority in game analysis and a nerd I have the outermost respect for. He makes half of the duo Tasteosis, the other part being Tasteless, which is to me the safest cast to get a experience from a game, and I watch everything they do. So there he was, smiling at me.

Same thing as the day before happen, I froze up and was almost unable to follow the games. Even thou I couldn't hear what he was saying over the Korean casting blasting out in the sound system, was still his smile there, the way he twitches when he says something funny or how he trows his head back whenever someone else delivers a punchline. It was all there, just like being home in front of the computer, but on the same way the exact opposite. This time I was actually here. Because of that was I only able to produce a short "Thank you for everything" when I caught him after the show.

On the third day as I walked to the studio did I arrive at the same time as both Nick and Dan. This being the Tasteosis, the magical duo, both of them, and I couldn't produce a single word. I was just smiling, beaming. They saw me, standing there like some mental patient, and gave me noticeable nod. These were like friends I've never spoken to, so what would I say? I followed them in silence and then crept up in a chair as close to their booth as possible, to maybe catch something they'd say during their cast.

As the last game started I was playing with the idea of actually quell my inner chicken and go for the autograph, maybe even a photo. It was like playing with the idea of asking out your crush, it's been a while now but I remember it the same way, the anxiety, the rush of chemicals messing up every sense in your body giving you the weirdest of headaches. Then suddenly one of them won. The game was over, my crush was advancing.

I sprung up from my seat and dived right for the question. Unfortunately my long suppressed stutter came back now while facing this legendary duo, so it's amazing how they even could make out what I was saying. As I walked away from the studio was my entire body shaking, I could feel the adrenaline dimming my eyes. I could have walked straight in to a tree without feeling any pain. While waiting for some take-out the owner asked me if I was cold and that he could close the door.

The picture below showed me how anything is possible. Not that it's a big achievement, just that it has been a dream for so long that I for some reason thought would never happen. To all you none believers; dreams do come true!

//Nisse

Oh yeah, and I got NaDa's autograph as well. Damn that felt good!

From the left: Dan 'Artosis' Stemkoski, Me, Nick 'Tasteless' Plott

I think most visitors of Singapore would agree upon how successfully it has been planed, with the lack of traffic jams, loots of trees and plenty of parks for a nice stroll. Then again, I think most visitors of Singapore would agree that this perfection makes it a bit dull. Not in a lackluster way, not in a dead way because everything is shining, it's just a bit too good, almost uninspiring. That being said, Singapore have a spiring cultural scene, but without any urban fermantation I felt like the city lacked creativity.

I most say thou that Singapore have a great sense of humour. In a city with so much people from so many different cultures being mashed together, the most attractive tourist attractions are still the hotels. The tought of going to a city just to stay at the hotel feels amusing, but it seems to work. An other thing entertaining me was what they chose to show at the tourist maps. In the shortage of actual magic in Singapore they invested in a big Ministery of Manpower, properly marked on the tourist map so everyone could come and visit. They might not have Hogwarts but they sure are proud about the University of Chicago which takes that place on the map.

Also Sweden got a their fair amount of bashing, first of all with the Halal Swedish Cafe and Bistro which to me seems rather incomprehensive, and then also with the placement of their Embacy. With all the other embacies beautifully placed in fancy skyscrapers or located with other embacies in the outskirts of the metroline, Swedens embacy is by itself, sharing facilites with the Public Utilities Board.

I really love my own country and my home city, so it makes me reluctant to compare it to Singapore. Somehow it seems like they managed to fix problems like traffic jams, lack of vegetation and too narrow sidewalks, even adding flirty customs officers to the list of important, nay vital, requirements for a functional city . The people laying the plans for this people really put a lot of effort in to it, but the result is impeccable.

//Nisse

Now visiting Singapore, a trip booked more than anything out of rage after yet another wound, meant that my first priority was to find a hospital. I had to make the trip worthwhile. I’d cut myself under the foot while snorkeling in Thailand and which mustered so much momentum out of the country that I soon left it, for Singapore. It's a fancy city, a lot of skyscrapers and money, so after just a brief look at the city map I knew exactly where to go for a suiting high class foot-treatment; Raffles Hospital.

Raffles, as in Stamford Raffles, the founder of the city Singapore, is not just a man, a Hotel or a Hospital. To this city is he like an element of the world, like energy and math, like Gaia. He is everywhere. First off, he was the Hospital I visited in the morning, and of course Raffles Dental clinic right next to it. After green light from the doctor and a new hope, a fresh foot to stand on so to speak, I headed for lunch in a apparently famous food court down town, appropriately places on Raffles Quay.

A quick lunch at the Lau Pa Sat food court and I was set on a drink in the famous bar in Raffles Hotel. I'd started doubting my compass during the day due to a surprising increase in wrong turns, so I headed towards Raffles Place, the metro station. My logic behind this was basically: Obviously the station is named after the famous hotel that'll be conveniently places in the middle of the... Raffles Place. Alas how wrong I was.

Raffles Place, the metro station, is suitably located in the center of the Raffles Place Plaza, right next to One Raffle Place, the shopping center. For a persistent twenty year old tourist it takes about half an hour to understand that the Raffles Hotel is not anywhere close this area but rather uptown, much closer to City Hall. A big area on the map named Raffles City seamed like a better idea now.

Raffles City, another massive shopping center was an equal disappointment in my search for the famous bar. It did provide some expensive shopping, but as far as Raffles Hotel goes was this another hour lost. Apparently it was across the street.

Finally, after a day spent scaling skyscrapers in the dozens, I arrived at the Raffles Hotel right before sunset. In my surprise was it a pretty little three stories white colonial house instead of the vulgar tower I was expecting, but it suited me perfectly. I was tired of stairs and elevators. Up on the second floor lays the famous Long Bar, original home of the well now cocktail Singapore Sling.

Filled with some alcohol and half a kilo free peanuts I took the next direction on the map. It was to the east. Bringing out my compass, marking my destination with a big cross and putting on my imaginary Indiana Jones/"Captain" Jack Sparrow -hat and marched on along Raffles Boulevard. Drunk on luxury from this day of abundance i had but one more goal for the day; The Fountain of Wealth.

The cave was hidden down a roundabout, surrounded by even more skyscrapers. The were still impressive, but started to get a bit tiresome for my neck. I went closer, surprised by the choice of music bouncing up from the roundabout in form of Goo Goo Dolls hit song Iris. While singing along I entered the queue to make a wish in the fountain.

"And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand."

I drank heartily, thirstily from the sweet water of wealth. I consumed as much as I could in the three small sips I managed to sneak in when the patrolling guard wasn’t watching. It was a rich taste, and kind of oily. Three younger girls standing behind me looked perplexed at my endeavors to absorb the magic of this cave. It was worth it, I could feel how my fate slowly changed. While absorbing this feeling, taking it to me and sensing it's deeper meanings I also sensed how my feet hurt after a day of walking. Better go home and tend to them again.

//Nisse

We’ve decided and acted upon the decision to go to Koh Samui. We’ve now found a decent place (the cheapest here but still 300 baht a night) and have done enough sunbathing for us to have gained another layer of brown! We met two Swedish girls on the previous beach and it just so happened that they were also going here so we’ve joined forces and are now planning on making the town unsafe by partying till we drop!

Life remains the same as it has for a while now; relaxing and making the most out of the paradise that is Thailand. Homesickness becomes a more present feeling but we have to remember that all that is waiting for us back home is work and, from what I hear, a rather snow filled spring. Everything is awesome here still.

//Victor

The night was reaching climax. Men wielded fire like it was harmless and the moon showed its face completely and smiled down upon the humans who so frantically worshipped its coming. So many stories of passion and ecstasy were being told at that very moment but one stood out among the rest. The story of three Swedish boys who’s story the moon had followed for almost two months. The moon benignly envied their presence and the impermanence of their existence, wanting to be a part of their emotions and to touch the glorious abs of the man and the legend; Victor Jeansson!

The trio was making their way through the crowd when suddenly a face stood out from the many others. The bearded gnome, the Nisse if you will, stopped and made first contact. Her face radiant and her smile inviting. As the hours went by the connection was obvious. He made the decision, the one that was clearly the right one. The trio was split, though not out of anger.

The moon saw the story of Victor and became jealous but not surprised; he was destined to be a home wrecker!

‘What a party this was’, thought the moon, ‘how lucky I am to receive such praise at this place and at such a regular basis!’ The crowd was frantic, and the party went on until even the moon had no power to stay up and had to give in the persistence of the sun.

The boys fucked up during the booking of hotels and ended up at the wrong side of the island, going home was less then pleasant when it took almost an hour. Thomas and Victor stayed on this beach and are now eating lunch at what can only be described as paradise, even better than Sihanoukville!

//Victor

Part 1.

Phnom Penh. Shit... There will unlikely be anything that sticks from Phnom Penh. Maybe the ridiculously planned streets and the massive amount of monuments littering the boulevards, that are so frustratingly covered in such a lack of people I even find them hard to see myself. That was until the president of China passed on the way back from the convenient store. I'll definitely remember that caravan of black cars and polices.

I will miss the warmth thou. The kind of warmth that greets you with a slap in the face each time you leave the hotel room, on the first step outside that door from that cool, refreshing air. It's the kind of warmth that wakes you up in an ocean of your own sweat when the air-condition mysteriously stopped working in the middle of the night. It's the kind of warmth that never would dream of letting your skin feel dry and boring. All skin is glistening in this Phnom Penh.

It was raining today, twice to be precise. It was as sudden as a power cut and as short as the shorts all female westerners wear in this country. I was never any good with the units of measurements in physics class. It rained,all though, an intensive and vivid rain and I missed it unfortunately. I would love some rain right now. A rain that could clean our wounds and give us a fresh start.

Part 2.

On the forth floor of our hotel, through the maze of hallways and stairs that makes the Cretan Labyrinth feel like a walk in the park (both because of the amount of green I imagine that maze have, and the naturally provided sense of direction), lies our perfectly cool and refreshing room. At the end of my heavenly bed, with the red silken cover I'm seriously considering stealing, lies my backpack. In my backpack dwells the Guardian.

The Guardian was captured in the Chinese park of Tiantan, by the foot of the Temple of Heaven. He is a powerful creature, cunning and vicious. What treasures he protects are known to few, a true statement of his dedicated protection. He is the Magical Dragon of the Immortal Emperor, feared by all and defeated by none, tamed by one.

His wild, ruby-red body of scales starts with his magnificent jaws, covered in brilliant sharp teets like diamonds. Then his deep black eyes that never sleeps, like two portals in to the void. You could loose yourself with just a glance. A golden mane frames the beautiful face, starting off the long and sleek body that is beaming of so much power and magical force, that your fear will mix with an envy and headache your mind will find hard to explain. His claws can tare you apart.

He is defending my Bag of Mysteries and my Bag of Magical Powers, plus my dirty underwear and he, My Guardian, the Magical Dragon of the Immortal Emperor, will continue to do so until the end of times. His name is Herbert.

//Nisse

I've been having dreams the past days, mostly during the nights to be fair, dreams about one of the men we met on the train through Siberia. We met a lot of men on that train, some of them who I'll think will be with me for a long time, but this man in particular is by my side. I see his face in a crowd sometimes, I can feel his eyes when I close my eyes, I can sens him when I think about him. He haunts me. Even now, almost two months later.

I had asked him about his hands on the train, they were covered in scars, and he'd told me it was from the goldmine he'd worked on. Then he told me that he was divorcing his wife and that he missed his little daughter. He was a broken man, a man in pain. Maybe he was looking for answers, maybe he was trying to forget them. He told me his mother had passed away. He was a man on his second bottle of Vodka. Whatever the reason was for his drinking were we somehow in his way. First he became angry and indicative, then he became violent.

We had problem sleeping that night, we had managed to kick this broken man out eventually but we didn't quite feel safe. He'd hinted a few times that he wanted wanted us dead, sometimes as obvious as asking if he could kill us, but sometimes vaguer like repeatedly knocking a glass bottle against a metal edge. The door had been locked, but in the middle of the night had it been fiercely opened with a man standing outside. I remember it with a thunder illuminating his outline, and eyes filled with fury gazing down upon me. Eyes wanting to hit, to hurt. I see them sometimes when I close my eyes.

A few weeks later were we lost in the south of China. While trying to find a way to the train station did a girl in her early teens ask us if we were lost. Well, yes of course we were lost, but we hadn't expected such a young girl to help us. She was determined to help, we were skeptical. We couldn't for the life of us see why she took such an interest. First she tried to put us on a bus, but we were uncertain. Then she stopped a taxi for us, but I guess it was our pride that stopped us from taking that. We almost didn't notice that she tried to pay the driver for us, and that did definitely our pride stop. It puzzled us greatly that she was spending money on us, and we grew more skeptical.

She managed to convince us to take a bus, she joined and even managed to pay before any of us could find our wallets. Our attempts to pay her back was futile, she was laughing and talking to people on the bus, writing notes in her notebook and smiling to us. We almost awaited a massive robbery at this time, but somehow we ended up at the train station in a sudden anticlimax. She gave me a note when we stepped of and somehow made me understand that if we ever got lost should we try to call her. On the note was a lot of Chinese words and a few numbers, ending with a blue teddy bear. I think I'll keep that note forever.

I want to be like that girl. She looked like fourteen and was probably seventeen, however does her age not matter. She seemed much happier then anyone on this trip, possibly happier then anyone I've ever met. A public hero, a savior and a lighthouse for lost souls like my own. Then we have the man from the train. The broken man, the violent man. I see a lot of that man in myself. I would like to say that he was crushed by society, by life and circumstances, not like this lovely girl from the south of China. We met her in SanYa to be precise, and I call her Amelie. I call her Amelie de SanYa.

//Nisse

I was thinking about the movie Amelie, about a girl in montmarte that I found a striking resemblens to this girl. This is what IMDB writes about the movie:

Amelie, an innocent and naive girl in Paris, with her own sense of justice, decides to help those around her and along the way, discovers love.

The young boy woke from his slumber; he had learned to wake up by himself as early as it was. Every bone inside his body ached with one request: go back to sleep. He could not though; he had to make sure that everything was prepared for the Morning Prayer. His tasks demanded of him to get up even before some of the less pious of the city’s citizens went to bed. He did not mind however, being accepted into the service of the temple was a great honor. He quickly put on his robes and darted for the temple. He hoped he was not late, the last time he had been it had not ended great; he was determined not to let it happen again.

It was still dark but the moonlight enabled him to at least see the outline of old Angkor Wat and steer him in the right direction. As he ran up the stairs he reminded himself to make a little less noise in his hurry, some of the monks lived inside the temple he remembered and they would not be happy if they were woken before the 4 o’clock prayer. Passing through the entrance he looked up into the utter darkness of the dome above him. He could still hear the chirping of the bats that had taken residence there, their sound reminding him of his routine. Passing the dome and hearing the bats was only the starting point of many tasks he had to complete before the end of the hour. He started to light some torches, he could not possibly work without any light.

In the center there was a great statue of the mighty Buddha, the statue was dressed with fabrics of orange and gold and in front of it were the offerings of the days passed and an urn for the incense to stand in. To the sides there were deep pools of water, each pool having a staircase down to the water’s edge. He cleared the old incense sticks and created a smooth surface to put in the new ones. As he lit a lamp, necessary for lighting the incense during the prayer, he could do nothing but feel the fatigue of his limbs and the heaviness of his eyelids. He was only a boy after all and what he craved most was to play with his friend down in the city, maybe he could visit him later. The altar was ready for service now he needed to get some water from the pools so that the chief monk could wash before prayer.

He picked up a bucket from a room close by and walked slowly towards the pool to the right of the Buddha statue. He started walking down the steep stairs, it was slippery he felt with his bare feet. One more step until the water’s edge. Suddenly the sounds of the night went quiet and everything around him was dark and cold. He felt the bottom of the pool and pushed upwards with his legs. As he reached the surface he took a deep breath half filled with water. He could not swim. What was he supposed to do? Could he shout? No, he was not allowed to be in the water in the first place, he would get into too much trouble. Time passed as he, in vain, struggled to stay above the surface. His lungs screamed for air and he felt his robes weigh him down under water.

A hand grabbed his and with a powerful tug pulled him onto the stairs of the pool. He coughed and struggled to regain his lungs normal calm. He looked up at his rescuer that was incased in a blur and blinked his eyes to try to see him clearer. It was the grand master of the temple and despite of the little temple boy’s fears he did not seem angry, in fact he was even smiling. ‘I made the same mistake when I was a temple boy’, he said calmly, ‘the others will be angry, but I say we keep this between the two of us, huh?’ he winked with one of his eye’s. ‘Go on now and finish your tasks, prayer will start very soon.’ The grand master picked up the bucket from the water’s edge, filled it and before walking back to his quarters flashed our little temple boy a smile. The boy looked down at his drenched robes and then upwards. The sun had not yet risen above the horizon but its first light was now hitting the five towers of Angkor Wat and with that light the inscriptions on the walls came to life as they always did in the light of day.

In the very same spot, 800 years later, stood a young man. He was thinking. You could practically hear the gears turning inside his head. He had found a new passion, writing was more fun than he could ever have imagined, letting him express his creativeness in a whole new way. ‘It has to be good’, he thought, ‘real good’. Even as he stood in the now ruined and lifeless city at the heart of the old Angkor Empire he started to create the first line of his story: “The young boy woke from his slumber….”

//Victor

We’ve decided to stay here, so for those of you feeling like they miss us might have to wait for some time. We even booked a couple of nights at another hotel, but decided to stay at our current location after just a peek back home in the evening. It’s just too good here. There might be cheaper places, there might be places with less mosquitos and security worth the name, but none of them would be better. No place would be better. The question would rather be, why would we want to leave?

The sun warms my face as I walk back from the restaurant across the street were we had breakfast. I slow my pace for a while and raise my head to praise the warmth. It’s like light-therapy; it fills me with energy and positivity. I feel packed with so much more of the good stuff, whatever it could be. The essence of life and hope maybe? Could it be the lust of paradise, perhaps the holy being incarnated? It’s the good stuff at least, whatever you call it.

I head for our bungalow, were the three of us share two double beds. Built on poles and made of largely bamboo they are just what the typical bungalow should be. I love staying here. I find myself not bothered by all the small imperfections about this place, like how the stairs up are a bit shaky, how uncomfortable the hammock on the terrace is and the fact that the windows can’t be locked. I realize that I forgot the key so I step in through the window instead.

I head back to the restaurant, stopping briefly to play with the big dog always lying outside. We’ve gotten to know each other quite well the past days, his tail flapping every time he sees me. The restaurant looks like an almost sturdy shed, painted and then covered with as much junk as possible. The boys are sitting at the same table as I left them, just by the edge to the beach. We’ve claimed this place, much to the waitress delight.

A few shells on a string clink on a string above us, The Best of Sting goes on the sound system and the waves gently crush in on the beach. A few drops of sweat are created on my forehead and a passing lady offers a massage. That’s about the only downsides of this of this place, those and the bugs being drawn to our sweaty tanned bodies. I wouldn’t want to complain about something as trivial as that.

We’ll most likely sit here the entire day; maybe move down to the beach a couple of hours but unlikely move beyond the sight of our table. The restaurant owner knows this and lets us keep the tab open from breakfast to the pitchers late at night. The young waitress is the only one of them speaking English but it’s mostly smiles that we share as far as conversation goes. It doesn’t bother me the least, now I can fully focus on doing as little as possible.

//Nisse