Three yearanniversary of moving to Bermuda

Three years ago today, we left our home in Chicago and made our way to Bermuda. Funny enough, I'm flying today as well, though for a much different readon. Admittedly, back then I wasn't all that thrilled about the move. Yes, it was a tremendous opportunity to live on a tropical island but, in my opinion, we already had a great life in Chicago.

Overall it's been great, and I'm glad we moved. It's just a lil difficult to think objectively right now, as the two biggest losses of my life have occurred in the past 7 months. If could go back in time, would I choose then over now? If it means having Grandpa and Rocky still around? I'd give anything. Of course that's not possible.

Still, had we not been in Bermuda and me not working the first two years, there's no way I would have been able to spend this much time with my grandfather before he passed. So , for that alone, I'm grateful, especially now, that I was able to spend months with my grandparents these past three years.

I've prolly traveled more the past three years than I have ever before: China, Taiwan four times (including this trip), Croatia, Paris, Spain (Barcelona, Granada and Madrid), Ice Hotel in Sweden, London, Big Sur, Newport and over a dozen other trips to the states.  On top of taking all these vacations, we basically live in a vacation spot year round.

Most ppl would kill to be able to not work for two years. Being the negative person that I am, I mopped around the first year like an idiot. It wasn't until the second year, after a trip to Taiwan, that the light finally clicked and I realized what an awesome opportunity I had. Got scuba certified and logged 60+ dives in one summer, went golfing every day and lost 35 lbs (18 from 3 weeks of eating in Taiwan) by working out 2 hrs very day. And where else can you go catch lobsters 7 months out of the year and spearfish and fish whenever you feel like it?

Weather on a tropical island beats Chicago any day. Water almost every where you look. Not to mention our nice houses we've lived in with great views of the ocean. Tax benefits and Sandy's ridiculous salary don't hurt either. And now that I've started working, I can actually contribute (and interact with people on a daily basis).

Being here has also helped my marriage a lot. Before, I was a lil arrogant and lazy. Being a lowly house husband, I had to lose the ego fast and start helping around the house. Thanks to all that time with my grandparents, I went from not being able to cook anything to being able to whip up some pretty decent Chinese dishes. I'd like to think I also became more attentive and caring. 

Setting aside personal grief and events unrelated to being in Bermuda, I'm definitely glad we made the move. So much so that I don't want to leave. Ever. No where else can you make this much money, travel this much, enjoy such nice weather and spectacular views. I just wish others were still with us to bra part of it.

Happy birthday to the greatest wife in the world!

Growing up, I always pictured myself rich and happy…who doesn’t? It always involved a big house, extravagant lifestyle and hot wife. That’s what dreams are, just wild fantasies where you can imagine whatever you want because the possibilities are endless. Dreams rarely become reality. Thanks to my amazing wife, I have all that, and so much more.

When someone came up with the phrase “my better half”, this is exactly what they meant. When you hang out with people, you want her there with you so they can all meet her. And every one will see how wonderful your wife is cuz she’s got a great personality and is able to get along with anyone. And, more importantly, it increases your credibility exponentially cuz this amazing woman is your wife.

She’s one of the smartest people I know. She passes actuarial exams after studying for only two weeks when others study for months straight and don’t. There’s no way you’d be able to tell though cuz, unlike most smart people who like to act snotty and throw it in your face, she talks and acts like a valley girl. She has an innocence and purity that’s truly admirable.

For someone who acts as young and naïve as she does, she’s somehow also unbelievably strong. No one could imagine what she’s been through cuz she doesn’t show it. Even after going through the most painful experience imaginable, she put on a brave face and carried on. She even managed to pass another exam, even there was no way she could have focused on studying.

Yet for being as strong and intelligent as she is, she’s still incredibly caring. She remembers insignificant details of your friends and family. She’ll fly halfway around the world every year just to spend some time with your family for a couple days without even asking to see her own. She treats and loves your family like they’re her own. And she’ll put aside her own worries so you can leave her for months at a time to spend precious time with your aging grandparents.

On top of all that, she’s incredibly successful professionally. She’s done great things at work that you can’t begin to understand but know is important. So much so that you’re able to putz around for two years without a job and still travel wherever you wanted to go and buy whatever you felt like you had to have. And she’s made an unimaginable dream a reality by taking you to live on a tropical island. And you still get to travel the world and go on way too many vacations. So, to the most incredible wife in the world, I love you. Happy birthday.

HouseHusband Thought of the Day

It's Friday. The most exciting part of the weekend coming up (even tho every day is a weekend for me) is waiting for my wife to come home so we can watch Footloose. I'm talkin about the Julianne Hough version, not the Kevin Bacon...tho that's not bad either.

That's racist!

One of the many reasons I like living in Bermuda is that there's no racism. Lemme clarify: there's no malicious racism. What I mean is ppl aren't yelling 'chink' or 'gook' at you, both of which have happened in the states. Out here, it's more ignorance. Just ppl not knowing any better, like they've never seen an Asian before.

When we were here for Sandy's interview, the cabbie says to us: "Oh there's ppl here that look like you guys". He wasn't trying to be a prick about it. He was just stating a fact.

When I come back from Taiwan, the customs ppl are always like..."Oh my brother loves Taiwan. He loves going to the beaches and every thing's really cheap over there." Oh, you mean your brother loves the cheap hookers in THAILAND? Or "you learned to cook food while you were there? I love Thai food!" OK, that's not really racist.

Our first winter, Sandy's coworker's cousin's boat broke off its mooring and wound up by our dock. We helped the cousin and his buddy get the boat back and give them a ride back to their place. Our conversation on the ride:

Cousin: So where you guys from?
Sandy: Oh we're from Chicago.
Cousin: Oh, sorry.
Sandy: Sorry about what. (I give Sandy a "I can't wait to hear this shit" look)
Cousin: I thought you guys were Asian.
Sandy: Oh no, we're Asian. We just grew up in the states.
Cousin: Oh.

I'm pretty sure he still had no idea what we were talking about. Did Whitey oppress you too? But how can you be mad at that? Seriously. He just had absolutely no clue. He wasn't saying it to be mean or hurtful. He was asking a legitimate question. That I can take. And I just smile and laugh it off.

But, earlier this month, we were at a restaurant to watch the Christmas boat parade. This dood at the table next to us was arguin with his wife, so he decides to chat me up.

Guy: So where you guys from?
Me: Chicago.
Guy: Oh, I'm from Boston.
Me: Cool.
Guy: Yeah....I'm surprised you're from Chicago. You look like you'd be from Asia.

That shocked me so much that I had no witty comeback. Guy couldn't even use the excuse that he's an ignorant Bermudian. He's from the states! Are there no Asians in Boston? I'm pretty sure that white shirt Paul Revere's was wearing that historic night was dry-cleaned by an Asian. But again, guy wasn't trying to be an ass. So what am I supposed to do?

Some one here once said to Sandy: "Wow, I can't believe you have no accent when you talk. Every Asian I've ever met has had an accent, and I've traveled all over the world!" Are you fucking kidding me?! Does your 'worldly travels' include the United States of America, at places other than massage parlors?! Jesus.

Seriously tho, how do you respond to stuff like this? You can't really get mad. They just don't know any better. They're just not exposed to much out here. Most of the Asians here are Filipino or other Southeast Asian ethnicity working as wait staff in restaurants. Basically Asians = Mexicans. And yes, I'm aware of the irony that I myself am a racist. But I admit it!

It's like when I was in rural part of China way back when. My mom and I walk into a store. Mom talks to the store owner in Chinese. I'm just standing next to them, bored as shit. Mom introduces me as her son. Shop owner is shocked: "That's your son? What nationality is he?" For real?! Give me a fucking break lady! We're the same peoples! You're my peoples! I'm your peoples! Or however you're supposed to say that shit. I'm gettin racism from my own fucking race. At that point, you just gotta realize you're forever fucked and give up.

At least it's better than when we were at the airport and the military dood at security takes my US passport and says in Chinese, "Let's see what a Chinese guy looks like." Later on my mom said it was meant as an insult. Too bad he was too stupid to realize my Chinese sucks ass. Booyah!

And that's still better than back in the states when a lil white kid called me "Daisuke Matsuzaka" while Sandy and I were playing tennis. Or when a group of guys drove by us after golf and yelled out the window "ching chong ping pong". Or another guy calling Sandy Michelle Wie. Or a big ass white dood calling us 'gooks' after a night of clubbing. Yeah, I wasn't drunk enough that night to get my ass beat. If you're biceps are bigger than my thighs, say whatever you want bro.

So yeah, I'll take stupid over nasty any day.

Vegas recovery

I think I'm finally fully recovered from Vegas. We left on the 2nd and got back last Wednesday. Basically a week's recovery time...pretty standard. Thing is, it wasn't a typical Vegas trip. I didn't place a single bet, go to any club (clothing optional or otherwise), hit any buffets. Hell, I didn't even drink a drop of alcohol. Half the time we weren't even on the strip. And when we were, it was in the podunk Monte Carlo.

Sounds like an absolute blast, I know. Reason we were there is cuz Sandy was grading an actuarial exam. These losers actually volunteer to grade actuarial exams (for free, in case you guys didn't understand the 'volunteer' part). After spending however many years studying for these brutal exams, you'd think they'd want absolutely nothing to do with them. Guess not.

And the cheap ass actuary heads booked these slaves in the ghetto ass Monte Carlo. You'd think they'd show some gratitude and shell out some actual cash. That whole actuary thing is such a racket, but that's for later. If I hadn't first walked thru the lobby first, I woulda thought we were staying at a Comfort Inn. The room was not good. The bathroom was average, at best. The handle on the faucet wasn't even attached. I was scared to put my dirty feet to the nasty ass carpet in case I'd catch herpes or something. Who knows in Vegas.

The other half of our trip was spent in the suburbs with Victor and Tammy. Even when we were on the strip, we'd spend our nights back in the burbs. I had the Monday free to myself. Instead of spending the day gambling, cruising the strip, at the bar or talking politics with the friendly strippers, I spent the day dancing and cooking with my 2 ½ year old niece. Very wild, I know.

The highlight of the weekend was getting to shop at Target. Yes, that's the retail store with the red bullseye logo. It's not Vegas code for sex shop. Highlight shoulda been Costco, but Sandy wouldn't let me go cuz we had already bought a lot of stuff and didn't want our luggage to be overweight. Target was so awesome that I went to two different stores a total of at least 3 times. It was so euphoric that I actually lost count.

We're so deprived of shopping here in Bermuda that my heart actually skipped a beat when I walked in retail stores. Target and its big open space: love it. Best Bath and Beyond and their tall ass wall of kitchen goodies: amazing. Best Buy and those damn blue shirts: score! Sadly, Wal-Mart is just depressing. Even in the parking lot, Sandy and I were like...damn, this place is fuckin ghetto. Walking thru the Wal-Mart is almost the equivalent of driving thru the streets of 3rd world countries.

The food highlight of my trip was Arby's. Twice. My fast food dilemma was Taco Bell or Arby's. Double Beef N Cheddars won out, even though I already had one at the ATL airport. No Bellagio buffet. No sushi. No steak. No oysters. But I did have like 5 Venti Java Chip Frappuccinos.

You know you're getting old and lame when the highlights of your Vegas trip consists of Target and Starbucks. Our old asses woulda prolly just died had we actually been there for something like a bachelor party.

Worst Son of the Year

So finally, after two years of begging and pleading, my mom has finally come to visit us. Too bad it took us moving out of our resort-like home to convince her. My aunt and cousins came back and August, and they must have told her that it really was nice out here. After all, why would anyone believe anything I say?

We're moving on the 16th, so the house is full of boxes. No biggie cuz Bermuda is all about the weather and great views. Too bad the one week she decides to come, there's a subtropical storm. It's been cloudy and raining every day since she's been here. Perfect timing, especially since it's been nice every week since June. It doesn't rain all the time tho, only a minute after we venture outside.

One of the big perks of our place is that there's a dock and beach. So you have easy access to the water. Mom's been feeding the fish from the dock every day. Since she enjoys it so much, I kept telling her that she has to snorkel. Every one who visits says the snorkeling right along the dock is amazing. You see tons of fish and it's so easy to get to. If you like the fish so much from land, you're gonna love em up close in the water.

Sandy can't swim but she can snorkel. My mom can swim so she can snorkel. That logic seems to make perfect sense. I guess there's a reason I'm unemployed. So after 3 days of asking, she finally agrees to go snorkeling. I got my mom fitted with all the snorkeling gear: Sandy's wetsuit, boots, fins, mask, snorkel and life vest. Then I give her some basic instructions: snorkel, breathe; mask, look; fins, kick.

I jump in first. It takes my mom over a minute to jump in after me. I know cuz I was filming it. A couple seconds after she jumps in, her head lunges outta the water with a panicked look in her eyes. I notice that her snorkel is not in her mouth. That would explain why she's gasping for air, tho there's really no reason for her arms to be flailing around. Bermuda's waters has the 2nd highest salt concentration in the world, so there's almost no way you could sink. Plus she's got the life vest on. I'm pretty sure I've told her this a couple times already so dunno why she's thrashing about the way she is.

I try telling her to calm down. All you gotta do is breath outta your mouth. It's quite natural. But she won't put the snorkel back in her mouth. Reminded me of when you try feeding a baby and, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get that damn spoon in its mouth. At least we're already in the water so it's easy to clean up all the saliva being spit out. I keep telling her to try again, but she's stubborn. Now I know why waterboarding is such a successful torture technique.

I really should thank her for not trying to drown me in the process of all her flailing tho. Once again, the movies got it all wrong. Maybe it's cuz I made sure to keep my distance. "Now Mom, if you don't calm down I'm not gonna come over there and keep you from drowning."

After a couple minutes of unsuccessful coaxing, I agree to let her live. We get her back on land, and I continue on my merry way to spear some dinner. I'm actually surprised she didn't cry or anything. She really is a tough lady. Guess she has to be to have raised Cam and me by herself. After a while, I look up and see my poor mom kneeling at the edge of the reef with one hand holding on to the side. She's got her snorkel gear on and head in the water. What a champ! We eventually get her back in the water for about a minute before she's had enuff.

Looking back, I guess it woulda made sense to ease her into it. We prolly shoulda started off at the beach and worked our way to deeper waters instead of throwing her straight into the ocean. And I prolly coulda given her a lil more instruction than the simple "Breath out of your mouth and into the snorkel". How am I supposed to know snorkeling is so difficult? All you do is breathe! All I can is say is thank God I didn't take her scuba diving. That would not have ended well at all. And she kept apologizing to me for messing up. It's OK, she's making it up to me by preparing the fish for dinner as we speak. Moms, gotta love em!

Direction, Part 2

Wow, looks like I have ADD when it comes to blogging. Maybe cuz I'm just so busy all the time...

Anyways, the point of my story was the fact, as bad as my sense of direction is on land, it's even worse on the water in the boat. And that means it's absolutely terrible IN the water. I started scuba diving this May. After almost 2 years on the island, I finally decided it might be a good idea to get scuba certified. I honestly don't know why I didn't do it when I first got here. Maybe it's cuz back then I thought $650 was too expensive. Maybe it's cuz I thought I'd be a pro golfer. Or just maybe it's cuz I'm a lazy ass. It really is as cool as every one said it was. There's hundreds of shipwrecks around Bermuda, not to mention all the coral reefs, sea life and underwater tunnels.

So anyways, I joined the scuba club at a dive shop. Since I'd scuba almost every day, the crew would tell visitors that I knew all the wrecks. You're never supposed to dive alone in case something happens to you. So if there were ppl on the boat who didn't have a buddy or weren't comfortable diving in pairs, and there wasn't enuff crew to lead, they'd assign them to me.

I'd try telling them that I was terrible with directions and would most likely get them lost. No one in Bermuda really cares about anything. Never ridden a scooter before? No biggie, here's the keys...make sure to drive on the opposite side of the road. If you get lost underwater with a limited amount of air, so be it.

On land, at least you have street signs. And maps. And landmarks that look familiar. And ppl you can ask for directions. And the sun. You can throw down bread crumbs (I actually tried this in the alleys of Venice...didn't really work. You don't really think about the fact that ppl like to litter anyways and will throw all types of shit on the ground).

So with all these tools to help you, you gotta be pretty retarded to still get lost. That's me. Now you throw in being underwater. There's no street signs in the ocean. There's no maps. Every thing looks the fucking same. You can't ask ppl for directions cuz 1) chances are you're not gonna see anyone else if you're lost and 2) you can't talk underwater. There's tons of fish, but they could give two shits about your lost ass. You don't have a spear, so it's not like you can threaten them (you can't have a lobster noose or polespear when you have a scuba tank). You definitely can't use bread crumbs cuz the fish will just eat it.

To get certified, they make you do a navigation test where they put a towel over your head on land, and all you can look at is a compass under the towel, and you gotta find your way around. I dunno if I should be closing my eyes or what, cuz I did a lot better on land than I do in the water with my eyes open. Worst part is my cheap ass didn't even buy a compass for my first 20-some dives. When I finally realized that I could pull an Open Water fiasco, I bit the bullet and bought a compass for a whopping $50.

I'm pretty cool with the scuba crew and they all know I'm retarded. So when we're in the water, sometimes they'll make a boat symbol with their hands to ask me to point to where I think the boat is. Most of the time I'm right but that shit's pretty easy when there's no pressure and your life isn't on the line. This one time, a chick asked me where the boat was. I looked at my compass and confidently pointed in a direction. She smiled and pointed up. The fucking boat was right above me. Sweet. I'm so directionally-retarded, and apparently blind, cuz I don't even know when there's a big ass boat on top of me with its shadow cast all around me.

So this one time they paired me up with this guy Kent. Kent musta been over 60 years old. Definitely pushing the later half of 50. I did not feel comfortable being in charge of this old dood's life, so I asked one of the dive masters if I could follow her. Halfway thru the dive, the bitch disappears! I guess the pair she was assigned to were complete idiots, inflated their vests for no reason and shot to the surface. So fine, I've been checking my compass just in case. Just go the opposite direction back to the boat. No biggie. We swam for at least 10-15 minutes. Weird, the boat should be around here. We swam about the same distance to get to the wreck. Meanwhile, poor Kent kept signaling to me that he's running out of air.

Finally, I'm like...fuck, where the hell is this boat? Poor Kent's gonna run outta air and die. So we float up to the surface. We look around but see no boat. Panic sets in. OMG, I'm gonna die...hopefully Kent dies first so I can use his body as a life preserver. Then we spot the dive boat off in the distance. I'm talkin way distance. It musta been at least a half mile away. Usually, you'd just pop back down underwater and swim. It's a lot easier swimming underwater cuz you don't hafta deal with the waves pushing you backwards. Too bad Kent's outta air.

I can share air with Kent using my spare regulator, but I figure it can't take that long to swim back. WRONG. To "swim" with scuba gear on the surface, they teach you to kick with your back facing your destination. Kinda like swimming on your back instead of stomach, so you're facing upwards and can breath. Except you got this big ass tank strapped to your back, so you're kinda sittin on your ass. It ended up taking what felt like forever to swim back to the boat. At least 20 full minutes. Every once in a while, I'd ask Kent if he was OK cuz I was gettin pretty damn tired. He musta been dyin.

I must also mention the fact that every one else is already on the boat, including the owner of the dive shop, whom I've never met before. Some of the crew have been trying to get me to work at the dive shop to help them out. Not a great first impression. So there's 20 some ppl on the boat watching my dumb ass swim back to the boat like a jag doing a retarded backstroke, with this poor old man clinging to life next to me.

When we finally get back to the boat, I just hang my head in shame, avoiding eye contact with every one. No one even bothers to talk to the retard. The owner's like...why didn't you guys just use your snorkels and swim? Good question...cuz I'm an idiot? Fuck me. Poor Kent was so damn tired from swimming a mile with 50+ lbs of scuba gear that he didn't even have energy to do the second dive. He just stayed on the boat. Poor guy. Drop $120 to get lost by some stupid Asian kid and almost have a heart attack in the water. He was surprisingly cool about it tho. Prolly cuz he was too outta breath to bitch me out.