theft in india

The act of theft from a child in India is reprimanded by driving over his arm with a vehicle leaving the child scarred for life and rendered futile for the remaining years of his life.

How is it that a child can be punished by the mind of an adult? Children are not fully grown in mind and act as children- then why should they have to live the rest of their life damaged for a crime they committed under a youths conscious? Not only is it unfair and unjust, it is disgustingly horrific that these actions are being implemented by minds that rule countries. It sounds like the childish minds have been reversed. We need more great minds in power. An individual, who is looking for greatness out of his people, should know that this act won’t deter children from stealing- children will act as children, and thus likely, starving will act as the starving. We were all one young- and acts like these will crush a society not help it flourish. 

march 6/2009

fists o malice

These fists o malice

Holding mic’s tight for the kill

These hands have touched the lands

For pleasure out of thrill

And these eyes

Have cast out on the sea of many shore

And this tongue has lashed out

To settle many score

oct 21 2010

impossible

There are a lot of people that you will meet in life that will tell you things are impossible. You might wonder why I chose these words to catapult my journey, though I am not going to explain- for the ones that are driven to explore; driven to push boundaries; driven to live and learn more about themselves than they ever thought they could- are the ones who will understand.

“The simplicity of a fish jumping out of water or the pull of ships horn has enough light to guide this vessel through any weather.”

I left Seoul just as the rain crashed the party without invitation like your drunken father at your 12^th birthday; or when you have the house to your gf and yourself and your mom unexpectedly comes home- though this time I was prepared. I threw on my raincoat and tightened the rain cover straps over my bag that was already tied down to my bike, and I left the Chinese  restaurant after 30 minutes of workers ping-ponging helpful directions to a destination I wasn’t even searching- note to self *never ask for directions in a room of more than 1 person.

I battled though Friday traffic in one of the world’s most vehicle infested cities and didn’t emerge until I was over 100km deep, cursing the creator of the combustion engine and twats that installed the unsynchronized lights. I know where I am but pouring rain and traffic force me to change route instead of the number 1 highway I intended on riding. I ended up fighting through unknown roads which would have been welcomed had it not been the beginning of my journey and the rain. I simply just wanted to cover ground. After stopping at a handful of GS25’s and 7-11’s and confused conversation amongst random convenience stores and hamburger shop workers I finally get myself on track heading south along the west coast .

 Now mind you I’m on a motorcycle and laughed off the rain and traffic, but I have just entered plague country- a black mist litters the sky as millions of forefinger sized chamjarees (dragonflies) dip and dive across the expressway. Birds patiently line the side of the road and take turns gorging on the buffet of lifeless bugs that have been hit along the commute.

Since I was riding at the same speed as the blinding insects I felt as if I could reach out and grab a handful. If I had a frog riding passenger it could have slashed its tongue in every which direction and reeled in a winged treat.

With my mouth shut and shades covering my eyes I could only avoid so many before they started pounding my bike, face and chest- with a force double that of being still I am in wonder how they didn’t crack my glasses. As they thumped my chest and barren legs it left short stinging sensations- sometimes they would land upon my lap and I would have to throw them off my their lifeless wings.

On two occasions it got wedges between my helmet and ear and the buzzing and wriggling of its broken wing sent me into frenzy as I forcefully pulled over my bike and threw off my helmet all in one motion. This routine lasted through three districts and over 60 km- I don’t know where the fuck they were headed but it must have been one hell of a party.

I pulled my bike over once I saw the familiar giant fluorescent E that attracts customers like swarming bugs.

Leaving work at 230 I didn’t reach Boryeong until 730 where I stopped at the Emart to pick up dinner for the night. The coasts of Korea are home to an undesirable amount of fish restaurants which is why I ended up at a supermarket for dinner.

There is something about supermarkets that give me energy- it might be the increased flow of oxygen or perhaps the women in miniskirts dancing in the frozen food isles; but it all leads to me shouting at deli workers who are singing the nights discounts and flirting with the bakery women. Boryeong Emart wasn’t any different. A group of middle aged women asked me questions about my trip and modelled for a few photos.

After checking out I heard yelps from the interior walkway- it was dog-lockers! Yes… dog-lockers!

this is a love song

This is a love song

This is a love song

This is a love song

This is a love song

But not the kind of love that strings you along

I’m talking about the kind of love that’s deep and long

hobos hideout

Our plane touched down in Leticia, a small town in the south-eastern part of Colombia that bordered Peru and Brazil. Our plan was to take a boat along the Amazon River to the city of Iquitos, Peru- with only five days to catch our connecting flight, and on a backpacker’s allowance; our journey began.

We found a decent flat only five minutes from the river, but spent more than twenty trying to talk the price down. I love a good bargain brawl- you know the one that leaves your conscious unsettled to the point it might have jeopardized the safety of you stay. Finally coming to an agreement that we were overpaying- we hit the streets in search of a ticket for the boat going out the next day to Iquitos. There were two companies in town and you can guess it- they were both sold out. So we threw on our dishevelled faces and pleaded with them that we desperately needed to be on that boat. Pulling us aside, he slyly whispered to us “meet me at the dock at four; I’ll see what I can do”. What he did was give us give other river dwellers seats- as we crept onto the boat, we left a dock full of landlocked unfortunates.

he boat was not exactly what I expected. I had in mind a quiet open-seated riverboat that gracefully waltzed down the chocolaty river- instead it was a deafeningly, claustrophobic speedboat that motored past all the beauty.  As we stopped to board new passengers- we were eventually kicked out of our seats and placed in the engine room at the back of the boat. This actually turned out to be the highlight of the ride, as we transferred to the bright and breezy back- we soon made beds out of all the travellers’ luggage and took in the rest of the ride.

The boat docked and we grabbed a tuk-tuk, a three-wheeled taxi, to a recommended hostel “Hobo’s Hideout”. Love the moniker, don’t you? We paid for a room and headed into town for a bite to eat when it all began- swarms of colourful taxis, reckless tuk tuk’s, cars and jalopies sped down our side street in a blaze of glory, furiously waving flags and mashing on their horns as if the end of the world were coming- it turned out to be over a soccer match. To my very eyes it appeared that they were celebrating a victory- I later heard it was a tie. But as all of this was going on in front of me- I had no time to think, so I did what any adventurer would have done. I lunged myself onto one of the passing tuk-tuk’s and joined a gang of cheery youth, shouting and hollering- to me it seemed like innocent fun. I soon learned a lesson about misjudgement as my caravan drove further away from the city core.  This wasn’t the part that threw me for a loop; it was when we entered their rival’s part of town and had to duck when a hail of rocks began showering our taxi. I was hit in the chest, and a nameless passenger was also hit- both of us walking away unharmed, though the gang with a little more hostility than I.

Parking their tuk-tuk on the edge of town, we got out and discussion of retaliation ensued.  I just replied “No me gusta. I don’t like”- it’s all I really knew how to say, to explain my lack of interest. So this is where we parted ways and I rode safely back to the town square in yet another tuk-tuk ending my little adventure.

The next morning we met Walter at our bus, and bribed the driver to let us sit on top of the bus with the luggage- two dollars later we had the best seat in the house (figuratively speaking). Arriving in Lautus, we stocked up on goods and boarded our multi-coloured, river boat to our unknown destination in the midst the Amazon jungle. As our boat departed- a smile crept upon my face in amazement at the true beauty of my surroundings- my dream was now reality.

Two hours into the ride we came across an intersecting tributary which boasted an array of pink, silver and black river dolphins. I giddily jumped rocking the boat, enthusiastically snapping pictures, only ever managing to capture a tail or fin as they frolicked in and out of the murky water.

We eventually arrived at Puerto Miguel, a long narrow sandbank that was lined with makeshift houses on stilts- keeping tides and unwanted gators away from little kiddies. The village was without electricity except for one gas generator that was hooked up to a booming stereo. We sat down to eat some dinner and later played catch with a hardened fruit with some of the local kids. We talked Walter into taking the canoe out in search of alligators, so the three of us loaded into the canoe and paddled off just as the sun was going down.

The dip of the paddle, the swinging vines of a playful monkey, the baritone of the lonely toad and the powerful gusts of the heron’s wings that straddled the rivers thickness; replaced those of cars, telephones and the hustle of everyday life- as the stars began freckling through the sky. Though we never did see a gator, it didn’t take an ounce away from the sheer presence of beauty.

The next morning we went for a quick dip in the river before departure and were introduced to a couple of nipping piranhas. We both hastily jumped out of the water after I was bitten on my finger and Ryan reached second base with his nipple biting friend. After dressing we said our farewells over warm beers and rock and roll blaring from the boom-box. We got back to our hostel in the evening after sharing a rooftop ride with a heap of vibrant bananas and waving to every soul that we passed.

It was our last full day in Iquitos and we decided to take a tour of the slums of Belin. From above, the homes were littered with sheet metal roofs, tarps and wooden flats, while the streets were ridden with waste. I’m not going to paint it beautifully, because it wasn’t- what was beautiful, was the people. The bright smiles and life that radiated from this port was phenomenal. Children flying homemade kites, teens losing soccer balls to the river and fighting at who had to retrieve it, canoes passing floating houses sending regards in waves and whistles, toothless grandmothers smiling over babies- and as I took in all this beauty I found myself turning in circles trying to capture everything standing at the edge of a soccer field, when I heard a voice shout “Hello”. I turned around and made my way to a young man I would grow to know as Teddy. He had a beautiful wife and child and invited me into his home. We talked about life and sports and the similarities in our cultures, as well as differences- and over a short period of time a crowd of people had gathered intrigued at Teddy’s English or perhaps that a couple of foreigners were perusing their neighbourhood. We exchanged emails as we departed and returned to city square.

The town had an important agenda this evening as Peruvians from all corners gathered in the town centre- signs in hand growing with anger as the masses continued to multiply. We walked back to our hostel as the scene got more violent. Now locked behind the hostel entrance we killed the lights as protestors marched up our streets rattling gates, smashing bottles and chanting- all I could make out was the word ‘muerte’, meaning death in Spanish- I had no clue what I was in for. All I was thinking is that I have a plane to catch tomorrow and I want to get out of here alive. The night carried on with streaks occasionally making their way past our hostel and the noise of violence echoing through the streets. While sitting in the back courtyard sounds of footsteps banged on rooftops above ours heads- we had no clue what was in store, I don’t even know how I fell asleep, but eventually I did, fortunately rising to yet another sunrise.

The day was dead, nothing was open and we frantically called the airport. They told us that the airport was closed, but was opening in the evening. With our flight being at seven we had managed to luck out. Apparently the strike was over rising prices in the economy and the people were taking it to the streets- you should have seen the police running away from the citizens- it was a very powerful moment. We hopped on a tuk-tuk and I left Peru with three dollars to my name- but was left with so much more.

timone track

I’d like to see a sea of people dancing in the crowd

Bodies moving to the sound

Inhibitions to the ground

While I’m rocking out

Nothing weighing on my mind to talk about

Left the baggage at the door

To hit the floor and walk it out

So go and walk it out

Go on walk it out

Soulja Boy or Dougie let your bodies do the talking no

Put your guards down and drink up

To all the ladies with the big cups

And all the booby jokes that I think of

Are all fair game

For when I rap onstage

Forget the brush let me paint a picture with word play

first snowfall

Today marks the first real snowfall of the year!

My car almost died.

I baked for 7 hours and had sex with Trish twice before work.

I’m lying in bed congested in the head,

Heater on with the window cracked-

Room clean

And about to read Kerouac’s Dharma Bums

Today’s been a great day!

in the middle

I’m a backpacker that has prematurely

Been mounted upon the mantle stuck between

The constant chatter of my repetitively depressed transvestite

Father and my all business tongued mother.

trip around korea

Are you crazy?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s no way you can do it”

“Yes, I can. I will. I don’t care if it breaks. I’ll walk the rest of the way, but I need you to get it in the best shape possible.”

“Alright, well…come back in a couple hours”, the mechanic chuckled as he walked back into his shop.

There are a lot of people in life that will tell you things are impossible. You might wonder why I chose these words to catapult my story, but I’m not going to get into detail; for the ones that are driven to explore, driven by adventure, driven to live and learn more about themselves are the ones that will understand why I chose to ride my motorcycle around Korea.

Now this never seemed like an impossible thing for me to do, and with my contract ending in 3 months I wanted to take advantage of my time spent in Korea and leave with the full experience.

My 10-day journey started with a trip to the mechanic, a borrowed tent, a stop at Dongdaemun’s camping district, a handy Korean road map, the knowledge that you can pitch-a-tent pretty much anywhere along the coast (just check with the locals first), and the idea to circle the country; everything else was left up to the roads.

1)  

Jeju’s Jeongbong waterfall is quoted to be “the only Asian waterfall that falls directly into the ocean”. I like the ferocity of this quote so I decided not to do any research to find the truth in it and just let it be.  It truly is a breathtaking site and worth the 2000 won park admittance; it is also located within 20 km of Seogwipo’s other waterfall Cheonjiwon. 

2

After driving along the shore roads on the west coast of Jeju, the rocky cliffs forced me to merge onto the 1132 expressway which is where I found this sexual wonderland (not to be confused with Jeju’s other sexual wonderland Loveland). The Sex and Health Museum is home to grand sculptures of people at play- much like these sexy women who urged me to snap these erotic photos.

3)

Lonely Planet Korea claims it takes 7-8 hours to climb Hallasan’s summit, and I would have followed that advice had it not been that I was rushing to catch a ferry to Busan and hadn’t the time, which is partly excuse of the goofy look. The hazy background often comes-and-goes due to the altitude and location to the sea; the mist passed within 5 minutes but my camera hadn’t the life left.

4)

This ajumah approached me with a sweetened deal of 5 king crabs for 50,000 won- so after stopping at the local shop for some butter to melt in her microwave I took her up on the bargain. Yeondok’s port is home to a seafood market that is surrounded by restaurants with tanks swelled with ocean delights.

5)

After cruising and sleeping on beaches and mountains all along the coast line I pulled into a Baekam on a cloudy day and met Bryce the owner of this Baekam Springs Hotel.

Each bedroom is furnished with a bathtub that is pumped with natural hot-springs water, or if you are just passing through; you can opt for a cheaper alternative and just use the bath-house for 6000 won, either way it’s a very relaxing excuse to stop in Baekam.

6) This spectacular fountain rests just off the shore of Kolaybul’s white sandy beach. At night the town gathers closely around and watches the colourful streams dance to Andrea Bocelli’s Time to Say Goodbye.

7) It is told that a young man and woman paddled a boat out to an island, in which the man had to leave shortly after, promising his quick return. That night the waves grew violently and he was unable to make the venture and it was the same storm that threw her from the island ending her life. From that day forth that fishing village was struck with barren catches as it was said that the woman’s tears had warded off the fish. The people of the village began creating phallic wooden carvings and sending them to sea as a tribute to the virgin woman- this action resulted in the end of the curse and the village once again flourished with great scaled bounty.

8) Walking out of Daechon’s E-Mart, I was startled to hear the sound of muffled barking as I witnessed this dishevelled puppy as one of the new victims of dog lockers.

9) Jeongdongjin is home to a happening beach-town pumping with late night karaoke and long sandy beaches. Its name derives from the Joseon Dynasty out of its directly-eastern position to Seoul’s Gwanghwamun. 

10) After spending the night sleeping on a mountain along the Mokpo’s West Sea, I woke to board the 4 1/2 hour ferry boat to Jeju. It is a good idea to book your tickets a day in advance to avoid the lines in the morning. Prepare for choppy waters but all the nice people on board make for a smooth ride.

11)Unlike my previous boat ride; Jeju to Busan’s 11-hour overnight ferry gives you much time to catch up on needed rest. Prepare to bring some ear plugs for the late night television viewers in your cozy room of 100. 

After 1340 km on my bike and one sore ondongy I departed on my 230 km trip back to Seoul. Stopped at a red light just outside of Jeongdongjin, several police officers were standing car-side before one called me over. I doing nothing illegal just followed procedure and cruised through the red light to meet him. The cop anxious at a chance to meet a foreigner asked me my name and age while checking out my bike. Before letting me go he asked me where I was going; Seoul I said, as he chuckled mimicking my mechanics reaction. 

trip to paris

I went to the jays game today- biking in the rain to meet Jord and Cory quit we scalped 10$ tickets and snuck into the 100 level seats and watched the jays kick the rangers ass as they swatted 3 dingers in a 7-2 victory. I left in the 7^th cause of parking issues and cruised back to Dundas losing my Korea hat along the drive. The day before Tim and I took a leisure cruise to Paris, Ontario- a town lying on the shore of the Grand River that looked like a photo from the turn of the century- each building stood firm from its original structure. The length, if even, of a football field ran the towns strip; two dollars stores, a few cafes, the ubiquitous Chinese restaurant, a pub, canoe rental, candy and ice cream parlor, all of which had its feet in the sand of the Grande hosting a grand view of its own. Being labor day weekend the only store that caught my attention was closed- there is nothing more enjoyable in my books than to peruse towns for used book shops- it lets you peer into the lives and interest of the locals without the rigidness of the already standing buildings that have premeditated their daily choices along the strip. I believe I will come back next week with the mother on my bike to enjoy the old world feel and buy some more soy candles from this wonderful ladies garage.

sept 2010

a walk in the park with open eyes

The shoemaker,

Stares at the blistering souls

Of every woman, child and man that step past his shop

The locksmith

Stares at the clasp of jingling keys with heightened sense-

That same jingle that haunts his dreams for those homes

That have been broken into

The squid vendor

Stares at every hotdog held in hand

Wishing that Korea had not been modernized

The jeweller

Stares at every naked finger, neck and ear

Dreaming that everyday was a special occasion

The florist

Stares at every tulip and chrysanthemum

Hoping it will shed new light in others lives   

The palm reader

Stares into each soul that passes by their tent

Cursing each one under their breath

The wedding planner

Stares deep into the eyes of soul-mates

Envious of new love

The interior designer

Stares at wardrobes and pocketbooks

Envisioning a fashionable yet affordable utopia

The stuffed animal schemer

Stares and taunts each man

In respect to his woman’s worthiness

The stocking salesmen

Stares at the legs of women

Hoping for subways filled with ladies

And wishing each day be colder than the last

The accessory retailer

Stares at unadorned individuals

Hoping that their garments

Catch the attention of any set of eyes that inch a glance

The mirror merchant

Stares as you eye yourself

Desperately hoping it catches you in good light

The silkworm vendor

Stares at the faces of those

Who just caught scent of the tasty earthed creature-

In wonder of just how far the smell actually travels

The golden pop salesman

Stares at the swaying heads of the depressed subway passengers-

Hoping that a tune

Will bring them out of their worn down, overworked state

The military guards

Stare blindly; only keeping track of the

Years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds,

Fractions of decimals of fractions of time that remain

Until their ‘duty to their country’ is served

The elegant elderly

Stare at the aged faces of other elders dressed in rags-

Fully aware they await the same death

Only they are dressed accordingly

The obese

Stare at the reactions they receive-

Wishing that they too could literally fit into society.

The children

Stare at tall buildings, fast cars, and corporate monopolies

That have advertently hedged their way into innocent minds.

I’m loving it.

While the homeless

Stare with wild drunken eyes

Glazed upon suited yuppies and swollen pocketed youth,

In search of generous handouts, loose change and dropped wallets;

Roaming the streets for makeshift cardboard lay-over’s,

Breathing grates to ward bitter winter nights,

And back alley dumpsters

take 6

Quick everyone up in this spaceship

Before this bass riff

Is giving all of you face lifts

Take 6

It’s better than take 5

With 6 fingers

Just think of the hand jive

steel city

The Steel City

Birthplace real pretty

With the sun shining

Skirts out

Make me feel giddy

Reminiscing about my first booty

When I was a kiddy

Ended up breaking up because she acted to immi

No she didn’t?

Did she?

Sure did!

Girls name was Whitney

Real pretty, 16, firm titty

plus she dig me

But time keeps on tickin’

Its not so innocent

Its not like the first time

That you ever got it wet

Since then you’ve faced reject and disrespect

Scene a lot a shit on TV from Iraq to Tibet

It’s enough to wring your neck

Or cave in and write a check

Fuck the government just take my name off the list

And you can take my house

Just leave me the front step

And Ill live there in a tent

If it keeps me out of debt

Cause a house

Is just four walls

of imprisonment

You work your ass off

Just so you can sit in it

Now that’s not living

Meaning missing

Blind vision

Only driven by things that glisten

Up my tuition

So whats it gonna take for yall to feel like a kid again?

Get your lunch money stolen by the bigger man, little man!

Now how do you feel

Kinda bitter and belittled… damn

Now turn that around

What traits have you crowned

Ill let you think about em’

Go ahead and jot em down~

take it all away

FEELING  ohhh FEELINGS!

Meeting girls at clubs

Constantly living in the present

Some people wake at 12… others build a deck

Chatting on facebook

Fuck girls and lose interest

My dads a tranny

How difficult life is with a twisted ankle

Lost opportunities

Shitty stuff with good marketing

Take away religion

Wealth,

Status,

What car you drive,

Ambitions

Dreams

How much sex youre having

What music you listen too (even those that say everything)

Hair color ginger

Big boned fatties

Correctional glasses

Flaws

Double chins

Gangly limbs

Gargamel laughs

Smelly feet

Morning breath

Farts

Poor love

King kong dongs

Take away all that shit

Deadlines

Meetings

9-5’s

Resumes

Facebook

Lonely nights

Benders

Hangovers

10 day a year vacations

Hate

BP oil

Katrina

9-11

George Dub

Fear

Anger

Terror

Take away

Price increase

Hst

Eco tax

Take it all away

Fucking take it all away!!!!!

talk about two-ply

There was an evil mom

Who hid the toilet paper,

And tricked and forced her only son

To be her caretaker

And if he was a good boy

She’d rip him off a piece

And he had to stay good

Up until he had to squeeze

So this boy got tired

Of the tricks him mom played

So he peeled the two-ply into one

And then went on a rage

His evil mom said once again

That you best behave

He told his mom to fuck herself

And he hopes she dies of aids

There was an evil mom

Who hid the toilet paper,

And tricked and forced her only son

To be her caretaker

And if he was a good boy

She’d rip him off a piece

And he had to stay good

Up until he had to squeeze

So this boy got tired

Of the tricks him mom played

So he stole the toilet paper

And then went on a rage

His evil mom said once again

Having him was a bad idea

He told his mom to fuck herself

And hopes she gets diarrhea 

teaching oversees is a breeze

Imagine waking up to your alarm clock, but instead of turning it off right away- you take a moment to picture your family back home getting ready to sit down for dinner.  The sun illuminates your room as you get out of bed, enjoy a big stretch and breathe in your new life in South Korea. Outside your window is one of Korea’s breathtaking mountains, which is perfect because you’re just about to get onto your motorbike and cruise the countryside, rolling alongside rice paddies and chili patches, slipping through little fishing villages and getting lost in your endless freedom.  As you can see, I had the time of my life in Korea.

I started thinking of teaching overseas in Asia my first year of university, and by the time I graduated, I had only talked myself further into it. It looked like a great opportunity to get a feel for teaching before committing myself to teachers college-and more importantly, for me at least, was to start seeing the world.  So if you are sitting there, thinking that you know you do not want to settle down at a job just yet, or you really don’t know what you want to do, maybe this will help get your mind flowing.

 There are many countries that are looking for English teachers; China, Japan, Taiwan and Thailand are among some of the most popular. Since I have only taught in Korea- I will help you go through the process of finding a teaching position and filling you in on what to look for, while shedding light on what you should expect.  So come on, check it out. 

Korea is a highly driven country, where school and education more often than not, come first- so do not be frightened to see children working harder than you ever did throughout school.  It is their culture and it is what has made them one of the fastest growing economies in the world.  Koreans work hard but they also know how to enjoy their time outside of work, and you can find a good number of South Korea’s 48 million filling one of its amusement parks on a sunny summer day, hiking the dormant volcano on Jeju Island, shopping at one of Korea’s extensive network of underground malls, painting their body at the annual Boryeong Mud Festival, rocking out at one of the Seoul’s free outdoor concerts, or eating at one of Korea’s famously spicy restaurant at four in the morning. Everything you dream and even things you haven’t, you will find in Korea.

                You are probably wondering “how do I get around Korea when the only word I know is anyong-haseyo?”  Well, I will let you in on a few tips that might make your life abroad a little easier.

Imagine a culture with a society based around perfecting skills, family gatherings, eating big meals and karaoke- you are going to meet a lot of smart, loving, hungry, fun people- but sometimes they might tend to be reserved, and it has a lot with their shyness towards speaking English, which is totally understandable. To make these Koreans feel more comfortable, it is helpful to initiate conversation and reinforce that you understand them clearly- and more often than not, you will end up at a local Korean barbeque at 3 in the morning, being dragged to the karaoke- you better not say no, or you will be missing out on a friend for life, and one hell of a good time.

A good percentage of the youth in Korea have a grasp on the English language, if they are not already fluent- so you are never too far from conversation.  And remember, there is a huge underground of English teachers from all over the world- and you are all going through the same experience.

Ok, so assume that you have decided to go to Korea, and you have already researched the culture thoroughly. Now you are asking yourself “what do I need to do next?”  Well you would have to find a school.

There are many websites to locate schools in South Korea: www.daveseslcafe.com, www.worknplay.com.kr, and www.englishspectrum.com are some of the best, and have thousands of recruiters or schools looking to hire someone like you, a university graduate. Semesters start in September and March, so there is always an increase of positions accordingly, but one-month winter and summer camps open up all the time- so there are always plenty of jobs to be had all year round.

              With the abundance of jobs there is room to find the best school for you.   Ask yourself the questions, do I want to work night classes or day?  Teach small classes or big?  Teach adults or children?  Work Saturdays?  And most importantly, which city in South Korea do I want to live in?

              Another important question to be asking yourself, is what should I expect from your school? This is where I can help you. The standard expectations for a first time teacher are:

·         roughly 2.0 to 2.3 million won/ month (2000 – 2300 Canadian dollars)    

·         house or housing allowance 400,000 won ( 400 Canadian dollars)

·         roundtrip flight- return paid upon completion

·         10 days holiday + statutory holidays ( believe me there are many)

·         Bonus month pay upon completion (2000-2300 dollars)

·         Pension and medical coverage

               I know it is a hard decision to just pick up and go, so you can help put yourself at ease by asking to speak to one of the foreign teachers at your school. They can give vital information as to whether the school is well run, if they pay on time, if they have a consistent schedule and most importantly if it is a fun environment.

               Now that you have found a legitimate school, the business side becomes involved. Believe me this process can sometimes get frustrating, but do not let it deter you from teaching abroad- for the rewards are far greater than the hassle.

               First, you will need to contact your university and order a sealed transcript ($8/each- it is good to order more than one if you plan on teaching for more than one year) it takes around 3 weeks to receive. Meanwhile, you can drive to the nearest police station that performs criminal checks and ask for the vulnerable sector search, tell them that you are going to teach English overseas and they will understand.  This process takes 2 weeks and costs $40 and you can get as many copies sent, within reason.

               Send the above two documents to your schools Korean address, along with your original diploma (order another original if yours is framed on the wall or magnetized to the fridge), 2 passport size photos, resume, and a copy of your schools contract signed.  In as early as two weeks, your                                                          Korean contractor will send you a visa number that you need to bring to the Korean Consulate in Toronto, go to www.koreanconsulate.on.ca/en/ (click E-2 visa guidelines for complete instructions) to clearly see the specific details. If you live two hours away or further from Toronto, you can perform this step over the phone, rather than fighting your way through Toronto’s ferocious traffic.

              Unfortunately, you do require making an appearance eventually when your visa sticker is available, you have to go to the Korean consulate and have your passport stamped with an E-2 visa- allowing you to teach English overseas for a one year period. 

             There are a few things to consider if you plan on travelling outside of Korea during your stay.  You are going to need to ask for a multi- entry visa.   It comes compulsory for Americans, but up here in Canada we need to request it and pay the small fee, which is totally worth it.  Also, one more important reminder, make sure your passport does not expire while abroad.  If have already booked your flight, show your electronic-conformation to the passport office and they can speed up the process, and if you are sweet enough try your luck at the Korean consulate.

             That is it you are finished, nothing else to worry about, right? You have a new exciting job, which pays well and gives you the freedom to explore and meet new people. What else could you ask for? How about experience!

              Unfortunately, I cannot give you experience; only time can give you that. But before you walk into a classroom filled with rambunctious kids or eager adults, it helps to have some ideas or knowledge to fall back on. Some schools have strict teaching guidelines. Some have books or a curriculum to follow.  While others might give you complete freedom within the classroom- so it is a good idea to always be thinking of new teaching ideas that are fun and interesting. For help on teaching tips for all ages check out www.daveseslcafe.com.

             Don’t forget, most contracts are for one year so think carefully while you pack.  You will be able to find most products in Korea from English bookstores, McDonalds and silkworms, all the way down to Kraft Dinner- so you aren’t cut off from the world just yet.  Also think about bringing a laptop to stay in touch with your family back home, and if you are of the fairer size like myself; bring some extra clothes and shoes- they really do go the extra mile.

             Lastly, before you go and jump on a plane to Korea, I have to be cheesy for a second- so you have been forewarned.  Everything I have mentioned prior is all well and good, but you need to know that the most important things to bring with you are good energy, a positive attitude and sense of adventure. There is nothing better than looking back on the year and noticing a difference in your student’s speech and gained comfort in the English vocabulary and who knows you might even learn a thing or two about yourself along the way- I sure did.

For those of you who are still wondering what anyong-haseyo means, it is a polite way of saying hello.  So go spread the word.  Happy travelling 

full moon party

            No one word can describe the feeling of travelling through Thailand. Words rarely are used for that matter. But if you talk to anyone that has been to Thailand they will tell you the same thing-

 Ahhhhhhh!!!

 Ohhhhhhh!!!!

 Urghhhhhhh!!!

Take your pick. You’ve probably heard them all.

My experience was nothing less than Ahhhhhhh!!! Some stories left me kicking myself- while others, let’s say….. they are still kicking around in my head. But to begin I will tell you how a carefree, last minute virgin adventurer ended up in the land of Urghhhhhhh!!!

I just finished teaching at a winter English second language (ESL) school in the south, of South Korea. My contract finished, leaving me with a pocket full of cash and… well, nothing to do.  My plan was to move to Seoul and get a job at a private school and sign on for a continued year.

I contacted an old Jewish friend who happened to be living in Seoul.

“What up Jew”, I said as we talked over the phone.

“Yo, Louis what’s happening”, my fellow Hebrew shot back.

“Can you help a brother out?” I continued, “I’m heading to Seoul looking for a gig, can I stay at your spread until I’m on my feet?”

Two days later I arrived at his door bags in hand.

I spent one day on the internet looking for respectable schools until I contacted Cecilia Park- a wonderful bosomy recruiter for Park English. I made an appointment for noon the next day.

I showed up at her office, was handed a job and told to meet her that night with some of my potential schools staff at a local bar Rocky Mountain Tavern. Well to skip the fine print, we drank 5 pitchers and I was hired on the spot.

I returned to Cecilia’s office the next day to sign the contract and go over details.

To break down the next series of events- I would have to say I am fuckin’ blessed.

I signed the contract at noon. Walked over to a travel agency at one and booked a flight to Thailand that evening at seven. I contacted my old Jewish friend to make sure he was home and took a subway across Seoul back to his flat. Packed- then jumped on a subway in time to catch the airport bus, arriving an hour before flight.

I landed in Bangkok. Threw my bag over my shoulder and walked around puzzled at which utopia to embrace.  Enough the following evening was the ‘Full Moon Party’- a beachside head trip with claim to worldly levels, similar to ‘Burning Man’ in Nevada- but in fucking Thailand.

As I patrol the airport I meet fellow travelers in my same predicament. Small talk between a few of us adventurers leads to a clan and we decide to make our way to Kho Samui (a touristy island a stone’s throw from the drug and sex infested island of Kho Phangang).

We board the plane and touch down an hour later, landing in a tropical rain shower that’s not only refreshing but somewhat necessary. I once read a saying that some people walk in the rain while others just get wet, and I’ve followed this philosophy ever since. I think you can really tell the character of an individual by given circumstances- even something as simple as how one reacts to rain.

I say “let the clouds open up and strike a ferocious climax of dewy substance all over me- I’m in Thailand and nothing can bring me down”.

We all make our way to a tent and purchase tickets to the Full Moon Party, before loading a ram-shackled bus that is nothing less than perfect. When I travel, I look for the real experience- I don’t want to be driven around local communities- passing houses with tin roofs, barred windows, a spray paint finish and dinner pets- in a doctored up Mercedes. I want a busted window, no seat-belt, stale smelling, gutted pickup truck with picnic benches for seats and a toothless driver who- for all I know- might not even be taking me to suggested destination.

All goes well and we end up on the beach-strip after a short drive through the country side. Seeing life through others really makes you question the situation you were brought up in. Thailand is a breathtaking country- but suffers from poverty and dilapidation. But I have been birthed with a skewed interpretation raised in Canada -where one sucks from the teat of indoor plumbing, hydro, and all those essentials that makes life… all that easier.

What we don’t calculate is the pull that all of these must haves have on us. We have to wear the name brands and latest fashions, eat hamburgers that are 30% bigger, but at the same time watch our figures with products that now come with less sodium or are labeled trans fat free. These are the chains and shackles that parade our lives from the first click of the TV to the signs we pass on our way to meaningless jobs. Why do we work so hard to be surrounded by materials- that will be waste when a newer, bigger, better same product becomes cleverly available? 

What I have gathered along my travels is that it is important to be happy and surrounded by loved ones, and if you have that, well than that means the world. Yes, I am biased- being fortunate enough to have been given the opportunity to travel and speculate on those who appear to been given the shaft- but appearance is only skin deep.

I would like to draw a comparison between how many view other cultures situations and how the others may perceive them.

If you were to view a dog inside an owners house. Say, you walk past this house every day and never see the dog outside playing, you immediately suspect neglect. So, you decide to call the SPCA on this horrid family. They arrive, don’t ask any questions and take the dog away from the owner and put it in a kennel. Well unknown to you that the dog was quite content being indoors and enjoyed the company of its master- inside warm and comfortable. But your rash decision and lack of knowledge took this dog from its home and put it in a world that it did not ask for, nor care for.

Now to translate:

For many Thai (and cultures that appear less fortunate worldwide) who live under certain circumstances that may not live up to the standards for us Americans, don’t assume that they want a change. Many are content with the freedom of everyday life. They are free from major corporations, brand names, brain washing, politics, and the newest innovations that stir thoughts of greed throughout society. We Americans created our destiny on the basis that it’s what’s best for us, but it’s not what’s best for everyone. And I for one don’t want to take anyone from their home and throw them into a world they did not ask for.

All these thoughts infiltrate my mind as I bop my head to the notes of the uneven ground. We find a beach house, throw our bags down, and high-top through the town to get acquainted.

We stop at a local mart looking for local beer to get us in a local mindset. We stock up and head to the beach to- well, swim.

As night rolled around it was time to jump ship and cruise over to Kho Phangang for the full moon party. We load onto the bus as it takes us for a ride down the strip. 

The bus soon stops to pick up others and a drop-dead Swedish girl, Ula, climbs aboard and sits to my left. She is glowing and gorgeous in a flowing red dress, vibrant and forthcoming. The drinks get passed around along with laughs and the bus comes to a stop at the dock. A bar lining the walkway serves ’buckets’- a sand-castle pale filled with ice a fourth or mickey of whiskey, and a can of red bull and coke- for the equivalency of a two Slovenian reach-a-rounds or 7 dollars Canadian. We all indulge.

As the speedboat comes we board and are in store for the choppiest ride of my life. Foreigners and locals fill the boat and drinking continues but in between intervals of crashing waves slamming against the boat. I unfortunately get caught at the wrong end of a wave and my bucket splashes everyone on the boat including myself as the sweet taste now clings to the clothes of all us nautical adventurers- but no one seems to mind as the laughing ensues.

The thoughts flowing through my mind are hard to retain- as I was living for the moment. Everything up to now has been a complete fantasy and I haven’t even arrived at the crowning moment- I don’t even know if there is a crowning moment (I think my life just gets better from this point on). The boys and I stop to refill our fluids- this is where I notice Ula on a flat-bed truck slowly edging through the crowds. I start running, picking up speed, never dropping my beer I might add, to finally reach her outstretched hand as I jump and am pulled aboard.

A crowd cheers.

Arriving at the party was surreal. Ten thousand creatures inhabit the beach. Alcohol matched with hallucinogenic’s, fire matched with water, music matched with dance, nudity matched with… well all of the above.

We make our way over to a stage that is draped with florescent lights and dancing sheets. We dance for hours, taking turns refilling our buckets and gawking in amazement at the free spirits.

A towering frame dawned with “Amazing Thailand” in huge burning characters ignites the sky as bodies adorn the scaffolding. In my deduced state I conclude that I must climb myself. I mount the structure and fist over fist make my way past naked bodies being prodded with blazing sticks, all the way to the top. 

The whole scene is too much to gauge if one has never been introduced to its surrounding before (speaking for myself that is). It’s unreal. Unfathomable. This is actually happening, while on the other side of the world, my friends fill seats in classrooms. No… this can’t be real. How can it be?

People flock from all parts of the world to take part in their hedonistic roots. An orgy of genres, cultures, styles and flavors’ garnish the beachfront. I was caught in a whirlwind and didn’t know what to make of things- I was completely content. Satisfied. Bursting to the point where I wasn’t’t even thinking of… you know… sex.

This was my fault, because Ula, on the other hand had other things in mind. My negligence led to her in another guys arms after I discarded the thought of hooking up. It’s not that I didn’t’t want to, or didn’t’t think about it. She was gorgeous- of course I wanted to, but I was so overwhelmed by the beauty and magic of it all, that it escaped me.

The night turned to morning, and I swear I wore an inch off my height from dancing. I felt as though I’d outshined Michael Flatly himself.

As I was leaving I saw a man get arrested by so-called police for drug possession. But I have heard of so-called stories where locals pretend to be police and walk the suspect to a bank machine and make them withdrawal all their cash as an exchange to save them from jail. But I have also heard of actual police using this tactic as well- either way I suspect the man will be broke within the hour.

So I reason with myself. I didn’t’t screw the girl but at least I didn’t’t get screwed by the law.

I caught a morning boat back to Kho Samui and was brought back to civilization. An unforgettable dance with hedonism- minus the sex.

thanks for giving up

I guess if ever it’s about time for me to get back to reality. For the past few days my head has been in the clouds- half the time trying to make sense of the situation, while the other half is just blah.

You know, I’ve always been a trusting guy- never one to worry about girlfriends hanging out with their ex’s, or going to the bar with their friends and partying without me. But, now I am fighting a deep down struggle with the truth.

I’ve already made my mind clear that I will never know the complete truth. SO I am left with a couple of options. I can either call it quits and move on or believe her story and try to mend our mishap- both leaving me feeling unsettled and unnerved.

This being- that if I decide to call it quits- I could be doing so on terms that were unjustifiable (being that she really is telling the truth)- but on the contrary, she has left me questioning her past behaviours.  Which leads me to believe her story is a grand ruse. Also not to bash her, but she placed herself in this situation. She has let me down before coming up with elaborate answers about her whereabouts- That I am left to swallow.  This time not to be outdone, she didn’t even have the decency to let me know she want going to make it to my party “her phone was more important than my thanksgiving”

She has done many selfish acts and spends most of her weekends drinking with friends I’ve never met- or who I have never been introduced to. This leaves me curious as to whether she has another life that I am not a part of.  And lastly I am in Korea for the next year or two- is this relationship really worth mending? Hardly likely. Should I be wasting my time on a girl that I know has an end to her- a final goodbye.

On the other hand- if I do decide to get back with her, ill have to forfeit all prior accusations and be able to start fresh.  Am I willing (or able) to do that?

Thinking about it right now, I don’t think I can honestly trust her again, without a lingering thought in the back of my head. Its not even that I care she has a boyfriend- which is the scary part- I know our relationship was eventually going to end. There was no marriage insight.  So its up to me if I want to get back with her for good times or take some time off and figure out what I want before I rush into any concrete decisions.  Being single would be fun, and I don’t really want to start meeting new girls with Erin lingering in my mind.

As the proof lies in front of me, it looks as though there is more evidence proving what I should do.  And this is solely for me- I have to think of me without thinking of hurting anyone’s feelings. I come first in my life and it’s not selfish for me to say that. I know what must be done. 

the ability

What has rested inside

has grown reckless and tried

encased, enclosed, an enigma a lie

with a crack that’s timed

it escapes like crime

what seems is weak

is fierce with pride

the light flickers

its bright

it streaks its eyes

It peeks, it squeaks

It takes its time

Its meek its blind

With an untested mind

It fends and blends

Within a congested line

At the end it waits

Resting just fine

Unknown to what awaits

At the head of the line

Each step is timed

With breathe and sigh

The depth is crept

Each step is mimed

It steps and frets

The head of the line

It sweats and sweats

And lets a sigh

Still unknown

To the test of time

Now second in line

It meets its time

The edge appears

To him and I

I can’t stress

The importance

That rests inside

Its fate’s innate

And must be tried

I wait and wait

Stone faced and writhe

Till it lifts its head

And leapt with pride

Oh no! oh no!

Please don’t I cry

It sinks! It sinks

The brink of time

Still sinking

I think

Of the unknown mind

The family the friends

The knowledge of time

Youth and freedom

The feeling sublime

Love and lust

The breakups

The nine

The world,

Discovery

And untapped minds

Language, drugs

Respect and crime

Alone

 Together

Entangled in twine

Creation

Destruction

Passion and rhyme

Old age

Death

The test of time

All this passes

In the blink of an eye

But wait! Oh wait

A marvellous cry

It spreads its wings

And learns to fly

It soars and roars

Throughout the sky

Rising

Gliding

Flying so high

It flys on by

And meets my eye

And I think to I

It’ll do just fine!

the answer to the problems

Why don’t we go home,

Watch TV and sit on our couch?

Quit reading books, go for walks, or using our mouths

Text every question instead of calling our spouse

Teach our children to back down and to model a mouse

So when their teacher asks

A question in class

They have to pass

And get harassed by students who laugh

So they walk home with tears in their eyes

And when they arrive

Their parents ask how was your day?

They reply a lie

And say “the same as usual”

Then they slink to their bedroom

To go and bite their cuticles

And think suicide is the only solution to the problem

While their parents watching TV and huffing solvents

While the little girls found the answer to her problems-

Lying face down to the ground beside an empty bottle

Hanging from a beam in her bedroom from some dirty laundry

oct 2010

the brain

“can I come in- all the shelters are closed tonight” he repeats before anyone notices- a grey v-neck rests upon his broad chest, but his voice is nasally, crisp and simple.

Walking in he asks to rest for a few to keep out of the cold- Heather tells him to grab a seat.

The boy stumbles around- big head with eyes new to the word, then pulls out a set of large headphones- holding them he speaks-

“Can I tell you something?”

“OK.”

“My girlfriend died last night.”

“Awwww!” with silence the few eyes in the bar lit with white.

A pause and with timing he lays out “I’m not having a good day.”

We all look around. Saddened if true, but we all have our doubts. He asks for water and leafs through business cards and flyers lying on the counter.

Picking up a golden Asian trinket cat with paw raised and red bow tie- he shook it to realize a coin had been dispensed. Intrigued he rotates and flips the toy in his simple hands- working his hands amongst everything that rested a top the counter.

“I didn’t think this was real. But, it is. Its made of wax- Did you make that? That’s cool!” placing the empty water now back on the counter.

“All the shelters are closed. I tried calling with my phone but it doesn’t work. Can I use your phone?” I was just in the mission and they threw new sheets on top of old sheets and said night, night- So I said bye-bye. Can you believe how rude?”

Still resting, his voice periodically hung in the air with the music-

“Is my sister there?” he asks over the bar phone- Which we can all here over the silence.

He leaves much like he arrives- with his crisp simple voice only slightly catching our attention.

I had a fight with my sister he says while leaving. He thanks Heather and she acknowledges and closes the bar being him wishing him well. My heart wishes him warmth and sunny days to this troubled mans journey.

oct 2 2010

the crisp breeze 3

The crisp breeze crashed against Old Man Parker’s cheeks like the tormenting seas that took the only love of his life; the same sea that wades infront of his hollow eyes and haunts his every waking moment.

Today’s autumn-scented morning was especially bitter and the chills hit him like a bat after whisking through the eroding wooden beams that made up his house. It wasn’t much of a house, and he always blamed that on the loss of his love; a love that constantly barred him from everyday life and personal growth.

As much as he had loved; he loathed. And now that his love was gone, lost to the sea, he remained cold and sterile which restrained his seeds from taking fruition- fruition of his own life to grow and spread its roots.

It had been many years since the incident, yet he still hadn’t been able to move forward, turn the page sort of speak; but this blank morning sitting hollow and starving forced him to adjourn- something that would have seemed miraculous if anyone had been home to acknowledge  his departure. However, it was quite the contrary as he made his was out of his often over-looked home and past the fallen leaves and nude trees that encompassed his landscape.

Old Man Parker began walking. It had been so long since he left his house leisurely that his surrounding looked foreign.  And minutes after leaving his own neighbourhood, his nurtured womb of isolation quickly became a single brushstroke in a much grandeur picture.

It was a funny thought that tickled his memory, a thought he had buried many years prior. He had not seen a child at play in so long that he forgot what mask innocence had donned.  For he had long time equated children with a fierce hatred.

 As the child recklessly tore about the playground jumping from one obstacle to another, Old Man Parker grew infatuated, he could not take his eyes off this ball of happiness rolling amongst the loops, hoops, and stoops that made up Seashore Park- a sign he read as the boy ran into view of the parks plaque.

“Seashore Park!” he exclaimed “that’s the… the… the…” He couldn’t manage to bring the words to life but his mind had already screamed and had enough time to create an electrically vivid portrait.

It had been over thirty years since he had heard the name Seashore Park and wanted to see if the old bench was there, so he started walking. He passed, who he assumed to be, the child’s father sitting on a park side bench who was watching his son play, and when Old Man Parker walked near him, the father looked up to acknowledge the old man and greeted him with a “Chilly day isn’t it?” He nodded at a loss for words. He had not been spoken to or, spoken to anyone in years and was a little overwhelmed, but the father pressed on “Are you new to this neighbourhood? I haven’t seen you here before.”

Old Man Parker, now trapped, felt he only had one option; to walk away. But the warmth of the strangers face allowed him to reconsider engaging in conversation. He knew what he had to do deep down, however it remained difficult, but in the end he pursed his lips together to talk “I… I was here once many years ago, but ever since that day I haven’t been back.  Actually I haven’t been anywhere since that day.” Once he finished his words, he trembled and almost fell to his knees, only catching himself with an arm against the backrest of the bench.  The father has noticed his actions and resistance and felt that this old man needed something important to get off his chest.

“Please continue, if you are able.” He softly gestured, embracing as if he were about to hear something abrasive.

He felt a great pressure building, but a small measure of weight had been released by his initial comments, so he continued “It was more than thirty years ago when I returned home after spending a great deal of my youth travelling abroad. I had finally settled down and come home without any real direction as to what I wanted to do with my life, only knowing that I had always been passionate about writing- So I decided to write my life story about travelling the world. Each day I would walk the maze of streets that surrounded my neighbourhood, not knowing where they led because I had left my own backyard as the last place to explore. So each day I left my home equipped with typewriter and a stack of paper in my leather satchel excited at retracing my steps across Asia, South America, Europe and Africa; and turning my adventures into the greatest travel story ever written.  I had always been one to journey off the beaten path; paddling the Amazon in search of alligators, motorcycling around the entire coastline of South Korea,  back-packing through Thailand joining parades against piracy and getting chased by monkeys, and getting stuck in the middle of a riot in Peru. This was my life and so, upon coming home, I went out every day to cafés, rooftops, street corners, parks, and mountain tops, and regurgitated my life onto paper.”

The fathers eyes grew wide with anticipation, listening intently only occasionally looking out of the corner of his eye at his son at play- almost ignoring him altogether, and Old Man Parker kept flowing like a faucet left unattended “I had been home almost three years writing and was on the very last leg of my book, I had even gotten married within those three years to a real gem, but she left me because of… Well, let’s just say I never had time for her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” the father said mischievously.

“It’s well and good my boy.” Mr. Parker said without noticing the father’s intentions “I have learned to live it. But as I was saying, I used to leave the house everyday and find a place that gave me good energy. Well, it was a fall day much like the day we have today; the kind of day where the breeze bites at your skin, and I was sitting at that bench right over there along the Cliffside.” Mr. Parker, who stood shaken, pointed as the man turned his head and looked over his shoulder.

“I had poured my heart and soul and every ounce of myself into this book. Which was an extremely hard task considering I had to bury my desire to travel and explore deep down; but I told myself that this was the next chapter of my life- so I set to it vigorously. In Asia, I had learned to concentrate on a single task until completion; fortunately being surrounded by such diligent people had improved my slack work ethic.  So, as I sat just over there practically a period away from completion, a nervous chuckle had begun to grow in my belly. A chapter of my life was coming to an end. I had exhausted every means of my being and I… I was finally finishing my story- An impressive feat for myself of great magnitude at 736 typed pages, and not only that I was damn proud of it. I had written a lot in the past, but nothing quite like this- something that was mine, a legacy to pass on to my family and the world. And as I sat excited nervously laughing, a new laughter had outweighed mine. It was the sound of children, much like your child over there, but only a little older.”

This is when Mr. Parker’s eyes began to swell and his throat choke “I… I don’t know if I can continue.”

“You don’t have to” the father said harshly “I know everything that you’re going to say, and a day hasn’t gone by since that… that…”

“Wh… What are you trying to say?” Mr. Parker abruptly spit.

”That was me… me and my brother Donny. We were the ones that took your bag.”

“”Oh my God!” the Old Man gasped while raising his hand to his mouth in shock “I don’t know what to say, but I… I am unbelievably sorry about your brother. I… I wasn’t thinking and I acted on pure adrenaline and anger. I was young and a day hasn’t passed that I don’t relive the horror.”

“Well, what happened happened. There’s nothing we can do about the past. If we had not thrown your bag over the cliff then I wouldn’t have lost my brother that day. Over the last thirty years I have done a great deal of thinking and reliving that moment, and I have come to terms with it all. I just hope that the murder hasn’t eaten away at your soul over the years and you have come to terms as well. ” the father said snidely with a hint of sarcasm and long- lost anger in his voice.

 “Honestly after that day, I haven’t been the same man; I went mad with regret, I went into hiding, my marriage fell apart, I lost contact with the people that I already kept in the distance, and I had lost the love of my life, my story ” Mr. Parker cried with his shoulders shaking up and down .

“What is done is done” the father said without emotion “all we can do is move on.”

“You are right.” the old man said sombrely though he had never been able to since that day.

“Well, my boy and I should be getting home now, but before we go, I just have one last thing to say” the father now cocked his head and stared into the old man’s eyes.

Not responding by words the old man nodded, suggesting for the father to continue with his question.

“I guess we have both lost something forever” the father took time in his eloquence for he had waited a long time to meet the man that took his brother’s life “For me, I lost my brother and for you Mr. Parker, you lost the love of your life.”