Vancouver Renewal, Day 2

My host Sylvia needed to leave the house at eight in the morning, so I followed her out so she might lock up. With two hours to kill before Claudia would come and pick me up, I decided to try that rare morning busk - mostly to practice the new covers I'd learnt. Mornings are a nice time to busk but generally so laughably unlucrative that the only reason to go out for them would be for practice or exposure. I'm having fun again busking so I didn't particularly care - besides I figured I might do alright playing the evening at a barbecue Claudia would bring me to.

Just like the previous day, one of my first passersby made the entire pitch worth it. He stopped after passing me at the end of the bridge, watching with his cute doggie, smiling kindly and openly. I asked if he'd like to make a request - he apologized for having no money on him (people walking dogs or running or biking gnerally don't, so whatever), and then was further shocked by the professionalism and breadth of my repertoire list. We struck up a nice longish conversation, clicking right away. I couldn't quite place his accent. He demurred from making a request, saying that I was doing just perfect without it, so I continued to play Collide as he headed off.

Shortly thereafter I received a smiling "acknowledge that I'm tipping you" kind of tip from a man with a toonie. That's the kind where he slows as he approaches, reaches into his pocket, deliberately selects a toonie, holds it between us at eye level, looks at the coin, then meets my eyes, smiles, and then flicks or drops it in with a slight nod. Aside from that I went tipless except for an instance almost at the end of my pitch. In between verses of Scarborough Fair, a woman and her teenage girl stopped and turned around to tip me, ever so shy and silent with a few silver coins. Simultaneously a hippie or homeless woman (isn't it so funny how hard it is to tell which?) flicked me a single dime with - this will sound impossible - a passionless sneer. It's more like the normal expression on her face was a sneer for so many years that it's fixed that way.

Joggers all thumbs upped or smiled or shouted out encouraging remarks as they passed. Bikers looked very bemused. When I packed up for the walk back I passed a man who called out if I wanted a quick guitar lesson. Sure, why not? I thought. The man seemed surprised I knew non standard chords (I just played the opening chords for my Forever and a Day) but continued in a slightly belittling "lesson" where he showed me three new chords - two movable - which it seemed came from a song he knew or wrote. The threatening rain clouds finally decided to let loose at that point so I quickly retrieved my guitar and packed up - but he pestered me with a conflicting story. First he asked for four dollars for a bus ticket - when a bus ticket costs 2.50 - and when I explained I'd earned a total of two dollars ish from my busking down the path, he protested and tried to proffer me a bus pass he said was worth nine dollars and didn't need anymore, in exchange for two dollars. Sad for that nice random interaction to morph from a kind exchange of knowledge to an attempt to guilt me out of money.

Claudia took me to her audition for a role for a woman ten years older - she looked far too young, but I had a great laugh with her throughout. We popped into an oh-so-Vancouver Cafe - green floral graphic design, name of "Organic Lives", six dollar microscopic slices of brownie, etc. - to see if they might need live music, but alas, they did not.

After some lazing about we headed to her friend Ellen's barbecue - an event I'd helped purchase the food for what with their complete and adorable helplessness in grocery stores. That trip was highlighted by Ellen's question of how to pick meat, and a giggle filled search for hamburger buns. I helped cook/grill/light the barbecue as the only male at the barbecue for four hours (though I certainly didn't have the shortest hair). Oh and everyone was Asian. With that latter information I knew going into it I likely wouldn't sell a single CD, but I figured I might at least feel appreciated.

I helped out staying near the grill and hardly sat down for most of the night, but by the time we moved indoors (and were joined by another male! and a white girl!) I inexplicably had an itch to perform. Probably the unsatisfied busking urge for the day, as Claudia and I'd stayed indoors and I'd not had a chance for an afternoon busk. So I played a few songs for her in the living room while Ellen, enthusiastic and kind, brought the others in to listen and chat. Mostly they just chatted. I've hardly ever felt more inconsequential. I didn't realize before how much I like being in the spotlight. I revel in that. I need to feel special, I guess, to be noticed and appreciated and validated by clapping and smiles and "You're so good!"s. A few requests were made, but with no enthusiasm and everyone talking blithely over me I stopped after just a few songs. Sort of lay on the carpet and felt stupid at myself for being so needy. On the busride back I felt rather insignificant, dismissed, depressed. And annoyed that I felt that way.

Earnings: 2.95 CAD, 1 hour
Song of the Day: Scarborough Fair - Simon & Garfunkel

Vancouver Renewal, Day 1

I emerged from my no busking malaise with a sunny arrival in Vancouver. Right as I alighted from the bus from Seattle, I saw a busker in the middle of a random farmer's market in the park outside the station. He finished his pitch soon thereafter and I asked him about busking the city - getting more difficult every day, he said, with the economy driving more people to play the streets and less money around to be given them, but always enough "after a full day for at least a hostel and a couple slices of pizza." Hm, it really must have been the sun that enthused to busk so much.

So I headed for a go very near where I'm staying in Vancouver, beneath Highway 99 as it goes through Stanley Park on the way to the Lions Gate Bridge - as far as I know it's the only remotely pedestrian tunnel-like place in the city. I started off with an original. I think I'm once again enthusiastic to busk as a form of practice - which really isn't how one should approach it, but oh well! Right as I finished that first song, two Polish women strolled by with two adorable little girls. One called out, "But no one's going to stop here!" (The tunnel's mostly frequented by runners, bikers and roller bladers.) She stopped to request "Oh my God you know Falling Slowly" and watched rapt with her friend while I sang and the girls drew with green crayon on the sidewalk around me. Eva, my fan of sorts, took the chalk from the child at one point to draw a big heart. They tipped me with a "Oh I wish I had more!" asking me how long I would stay and sad it would be so short. I thanked her profusely - more for her attitude than the money - with a Dienkuje. She asked me my second language and responded with a 多謝. What a great start to busking Vancouver!

I continued to play for a full hour that Thursday evening, with lots of smiles and thumbs up from every passersby. I happened to have a great desire to practice Run and chose a fortuitous time to play it - a small group of youngsters passed and each one tipped! I find I enjoy myself the best in places with good acoustics - I like to hear the sound of my own voice not merely for reasons of arrogance but also to improve upon my singing. Add onto that the fact the songs which meet the best reception in such locations are the ones I like the best - the sadder, slower fare as opposed to I'm Yours or Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I love tunnels, and nice foreign people :).

Earnings: 15.85 CAD, 1 hour
Song of the Day: Falling Slowly - Once

Buskless in Seattle, Day 1

I decided to get to Chicago by way of Seattle (and later Vancouver) so that I might take the Empire Builder - one of two long Amtrak routes I've yet to take (the other being The City of New Orleans). Nick can attest to how rail adverts affect me. Amtrak likes to feature gorgeous photographs of the Empire Builder passing through Glacier National Park. I've never even been to Montana and the train would bring me to three previously unvisited States. Flooding in Montana effectively put a damper on this plan. So I ended up in Seattle anyways, with the sole objective now of seeing my friends Sheikh and Lin.

Seattle strictly enforces its busking license system, and I still wasn't quite in the mood to do any. Allergies/possible ear infection unchecked and general laziness lead to my not busking in the charming Ballard district near Sheikh's place. Ballard has that very Northwest feel of stubbly men and slightly portly women in ugly sweaters and other knits, sandals or moccasins, ear plugs and hemp handbags or bracelets, immaculate teeth and nails, BMWs, aggressive veganism and an omnipresent smell of weed. Naturally the music of choice isn't quite in alignment with mine - Passion Pit and MGMT and this sort of music. I wandered about the first day through indie bookstores which didn't stock the pulp I wanted to read and the library which did. Sheikh cooked up a beautiful beef heart, beetroot dish with a sesame vinaigrette salad and rice. The last in honor of my presence.

Sheikh and his girlfriend rise very early for work (before six), so they chose not to accompany me to an open mic about a mile's walk away at Molly Maguire's. Internet listings and calling indicated it would begin at 8.30, and to show up at 8.00 to get on the list. On arriving the bartender informed us the host generally didn't show until 9.30 but we could start a list if we wanted to. (Two other acts arrived around when I did). I adopted a table of three starting to play gin - a card game very much like Mahjong. A charming married couple obviously very much in love and their guest Brett, a very pretty musician from Hawai'i. Oh that Hawai'ian accent!

An instrumental act opened just after 10.00 after the host Mingus tested out the system, followed by Brett and then me. Brett sang some feel good surfy originals, with a catchy Celebrate Yourself to open. A great stage presence unrewarded by a largely disinterested crowd. Hipsters tend to be that way. This didn't bode well for my set, as I'd decided to debut two of my originals this night, both slower, more pensive songs that require a friendly audience. Or at least one that wants you to succeed. Most audiences run that way, but the combination of hipsters, old folks, and an Irish Pub atmosphere tends the other way. I sang my songs, with Kids thrown in the middle for a predictably warmer reception, pushed my CD and took a seat, hardly feeling as if I'd performed at all. Mingus very kindly re-pushed my CD for me, understanding the importance of selling them, but all to no avail as not even Brett and his friends took the faintest interest before ducking out.

After a old cover band and an regurgitatingly hipster girl duo/trio Minor Dissonance with a great sound - violin, guitar, beatboxer, smooth vocals - who took the stage for two songs too many, I walked the mile back to Sheikh's place - uphill, in the cold, disappointed, alone.

Earnings: $0.00, 15 minutes
Song of the Day: Kids - MGMT

San Francisco Busking Area, Day 3

Allergies going absolutely bonkers by my last day in Palo Alto, I met up with my family friends Tai Wa and Rebbeca Wah for a family barbecue of sorts in their daughter's backyard. I hadn't seen Lin Yi in twenty years and naturally neither could recognize the other. She happily told me to ignore my brother's conviction that I'll end up in law school, as it's not a place for creative sorts like me. She said I'd feel stifled. My breathing certainly did throughout the dinner, as well as my normal outgoing ways. Somehow I revert into shy cute Terrence when not feeling too well - it took an hour before I started joining in conversations in Spanish (Lin Yi's husband Gustavo and his large family hail from Mexico). In fact I only really got the courage to chime in because I realized Mariela, Gustavo's daughter of around my age, wasn't terrible proficient at Spanish either, but wanted to practice to improve it. I felt like we were sort of allies throughout the evening - the indie not quite at home types in that awkward between youth and adulthood stage feeling a bit lost and overwhelmed in everyone else's comfort. Mariela's also very pretty, and said "You like Iron & Wine, you must be awesome." But I remained super shy. Silly sinus allergies.

My favourite part of the evening occurred shortly after I finally joined in the conversation at my chosen table (all Gustavo's family). I'd chosen the table by unconsciously following Mariela. Across from me sat two first years of highschool girls who chatted from El Paso flitting effortlessly between Spanish and English. When our conversation died for a second, they asked me, "What grade are you in?" Look at the wording of that. What grade are you in. Ha! I'm six years beyond being in any "grade"! I had a good laugh with that. Apart from that I found it quite difficult to initially speak Spanish. Switching between muliple foreign languages makes my brain hurt. Well my head at least. I'd been insistent on using Cantonese to speak with my uncles and aunts and Tai Wah and Rebecca to keep it up. So at the barbecue I danced between these two foreign languages and once, even, Mariela and I exchanged a few words of Russian.

Tai Wah insisted that I bring my guitar along and kept prodding me to sing something, which naturally had the reverse effect of making me super shy. I wasn't terribly confident in my ability to sing anything with the scratchiness in my throat and constantly stuffed up ears muffling the accuracy of pitch determination. About an hour before I knew I had to leave I finally cracked open my guitar case. You see I knew from experience that as soon as I started singing I'd find it hard to stop - both because I rather enjoy it and because relaxed party crowds always clamor for more (I'm much too pushovery to be able to defend against this).

Lin Yi requested I sing Let it Be for her husband, who'd cooked most of our food. I stood in the grass as a stage and sang it for him/them. Everyone was silent and applauded when I finished. Mariela'd agreed to sing so long as I did, but after I finished she became too shy and agreed only to play while I sang. I luckily knew the first song she wanted to play, Naked As We Came and it was on learning I knew it that she made the above comment. My list got passed around, so I followed up with various requests from everyone around, including an abbreviated I'm Yours (I'm a bit sick of singing it by now). At around eight o'clock Tai Wah indicated we ought to leave, and I finished up with I Will Survive. Word came out from Lin Yi that I had a CD and I brought one over to give to table (I'm a horrid businessman, eh?) with my cards. Gilberto, Gustavo's brother, insisted on paying me $20 for the CD, so I gave him two.

Earnings: $20.00, 1 hour
Song of the Day: Naked As We Came - Iron & Wine

San Francisco Busking Area, Day 2 by Taylor LaFlam

Taylor very kindly agreed to write me a guest post for my gig in the Bay Area. I am very impressed with his brevity so I won't ruin it with a long preamble :).

On Friday evening of June 17, I was glad to be able to meet up with Terrence at Cafe Zoë in Menlo Park. The cafe, a narrow, deep venue with dark wood decor and artwork for sale displayed on the walls, proved to be a good setting for some low-key music at the end of the week. The main act was Sean and Scott, a father and two sons trio that are well known to those at Café Zoë, and the event was also simultaneously a birthday celebration for one of them. The father and one of the sons sang, and it was interesting that even given the significant age gap it could be difficult for me to know which one was singing if I wasn’t looking.

Both Terrence and I arrived, within a couple minutes of each other, a little after Sean and Scott had begun playing, delayed by greater than expected traffic and the tucked-away location of the café. At about 7:30, Terrence was able to head to the front and begin his set, beginning with “From Dawn to Busk” and then playing a few covers and another original. Having not heard Terrence play or sing since before he began this busking adventure, and having never heard him play in public, I enjoyed discovering his amiable stage presence and liked how he introduced each song with a brief story to help provide some context for its meaning to him. Sean and Scott then took the stage again and Terrence also had a bit more opportunity to play later. Terrence emerged less than thrilled with his performance, citing his allergies, but I thought that even if less than his best it was still well done.

The manager of Café Zoë was very welcoming, and, in addition to providing us with a couple free sandwiches, bought one of Terrence’s CDs with a nice tip.

It had been a little bit of a drive down from San Francisco but well worth it. I was really glad to finally hear Terrence perform in person again and to have the chance to catch up a little bit before he headed to his next destination—my native neck of the woods, Seattle.

Earnings: $64.00, 40 minutes
Song of the Day: Collide - Howie Day

San Francisco Busking Area, Day 1

Culture shock on arriving in San Francisco. An intense sense of just how uncivilized a place America is - tough talking people, gang types, the threat of violence/crime, an overpriced BART that doesn't run often and carries few passengers in its appalingly disgusting interiors... and then a very nice, also very American "Don't worry about it" from the bus driver who let me on when I had one dollar and not two - not even taking my one. (There's a song about that. Sorta. Just wait!)

Add some jet lag and lingering health issues - right I didn't write while in Asia... I got swine flu/dysentery/something unhappy in Indonesia - and I did all of nothing for my three nights stay at Elizabeth's. This stay was marked by two things - my desire to keep speaking Cantonese led me to wander down to San Bruno Ave to speak Canto with at the BoA and to get food, as well as conduct my conversations on phone with my uncles/aunt/family friends in Canto. The other was a further culture shock courtesy of Elizabeth's housemates. They are all intense gamers. Now, I think everyone who knows me knows I enjoy playing video games. My mother would say I play them rather too much, but in comparison to these young men my habits are quite moderate. Here's a house where literally every moment of every waking day and night a group of six to seven guys are constantly playing games. League of Legends, Terraria, Minecraft, RPGs, etc. PS3s and Wiis and Xbox 360s everywhere. I hardly ducked out of the house myself, and every time I walked upstairs, whatever time that may be, they were at it. Even being the avid gamer I am I still expressed to Elizabeth how sickened I was by it all. She remarked that her house was very "American." In its own way, yes. Decadence and a particular male culture and junk food.

Ok, moving on. I wasn't doing anything of use during that time, either. Eventually I stayed a night at my friend Michael's in Mountain View, teaching him Wonderwall and singing some covers for his housemates. Then to Palo Alto to stay with my Uncle where my present allergy problems began. I assume as I dropped in with no notice they hadn't time to vacuum or what have you, or perhaps it was just the garden. I don't know. A few days later my cousin returned with two cats and this generally heightened the problem. My sinuses are more clogged up than I can remember, which makes it very very difficult to perform, keeps me exhausted and uncomfortable and generally unhappy. The presence of a computer, however, kept me productive, finally starting on searching for jobs in Turkey, contesting unreasonable charges for healthcare and taxes, searching for open mics, etc.

I found one in Redwood City for that Wednesday night, and Michael very kindly offered me a ride to and from when I asked. He even insisted I get a bite to eat (I ate the cheapest thing off the menu) on his treat. Apparently the Open Mic had begun much earlier than I'd assumed (I thought it was 7.30) since when we arrived shortly before 8.00 most of the acts were through already. The establishment, Angelica's Bistro, radiated class and a sort of southern plantation feel with pinkish walls and country style furniture. Pricey food, and a smallish crowd for the Open Mic while people played also played acoustically outside. The overall quality of performers was mediocre - a good first act of violin/guitar Led Zep covers followed by a droll and uninteresting "comedian" whose entire act hinged on an assumption that he was funny. Yes, that was his joke. And it went on for ages. His daughter and a wisecracking banjo player followed with a mutilation of Landslide and an absolute catastrophe of Hallelujah took over after he finished, and a solo a capella Irish trad singer sang two short tunes with no projective powers afterwards.

Unlike most Open Mics and the standard three songs/fifteen minute sets, this one allowed just two songs. I only really decided which to sing when I got up to the stage. Looking out from it I realized how long it'd been since I'd performed indoors - over a month and six countries ago! I got them with From Dawn to Busk which is a safe song for me and an easy story, and closed with the funny story for Hello. My audience laughed at all the right places for both songs. Michael told me the whole crowd liked me. Well they were positioned such that it was hard to see them and still direct into the microphone, so I hope he was correct.

Benjamin Brown, a blues singer with a good musical sense but a despicable "artiste" personality - with unkempt facial hair, grunts, perma-high, glazed I don't care "cool" - followed me as the "featured artist" of the night. Unfortunately for us the host had absolutely no sense of how to control the soundboard, so Ben blew out the speakers over and over with his belts. Strangely I was the only one who had to cover my ears, others seemed nonplussed or swayed eyes closed to the music. Which brings me to that lovely rule of music - you don't have to be good if you can hold a beat and a stage. Damn, I can't do either. Michael wanted to head out and I naturally acquiesced as he'd so good naturedly taken me out of his way to the spot. I was rather disappointed to leave before Ben finished however, because I'd hoped the lull afterwards might net me a few CD sales. With our rushed exit between songs I didn't have time to talk to the remaining audience and thus sold none. The violinist did ask for my blog, however, and I passed her my card on leaving.

Michael spent the ride back giving me the "get a real job" lecture, which I found very amusing coming from a guy my own age and from the perspective he gave it. He meant it as friend looking out for me, seeing how difficult it is to get up and put myself out there and try to sell CDs for a few dollars when he can have the comfort and security of high salary from a job he admittedly doesn't like. Well, at this point I'm all about what I like over what I earn. I'm privileged enough to be able to make that choice and I'm reveling in that. I'm finally unashamed to be doing what I do and how I do.

Earnings: $0.00, 10 minutes
Song of the Day: Hello - Lionel Richie

Ten Things I Missed A Boot the Pretty Country.

So all throughout my travels, whenever conversation suffered for a moment and I didn't jump in to save it, my counterpart would invariably ask what I missed most about America. Usually I didn't have an answer. Now I've had a little time to think about it, I thought I'd share the arbitrary ten things I missed most about not necessarily America (people abroad generally can't fathom how ginormous and diverse the country is, asking about the weather there, etc.) but more what I missed about Gainesville.

1. Potable water even in the toilet tank.

2. Clean air.

3. Service with a genuine smile.

4. Escalators that don't talk to you.

5. Cheap postage.

6. The American peso.

7. Awesome libraries.

8. Jaywalking.

9. Space.

10. People I've known for more than a few days.

What, I write songs too? Part XV

The last time I posted a song on here back in November, I made musings about being a lyricist. I think this song exemplifies my strengths and weaknesses in songwriting. As I mention in the video, it's about nostalgia - my first eighteen years of existence in about six minutes. I played it with Bill on violin in Hong Kong, and we decided that it needs a violin playing harmonics and a cajon. Those to come later. Right now I'm trying to polish all of my compositions and decide which are truly album worthy. Already I'm looking ahead to a full length album though Foreign Skies isn't yet complete. I want the opportunity to record professionally; I want to begin my next recording session better prepared. I may even write out my songs in staff notation (what!?). At any rate, enjoy this first one, and do let me know your thoughts.



Forever and a Day

A bag of Lender's bagels at the end of the row,
In the grocery store,
Raisin cinnamon for sixty nine cents.
Father said remember fifteen years ago,
And although he's no more,
I'll see them clear for many years hence.

The promise of adventure 'neath the oaken glade,
Spanish moss trailing low,
She beckons with delight in her smiles,
So pretty at me across the creek in the shade,
This place that only we know,
Evergreen in our hearts all this while.

I seek her hiding somewhere in the bushes around,
The Unitarian ground,
I find her once but never again.
We scrawl dirty mad libs in the back of a van,
A scroll and bow in our hands,
And nothing was impossible then...

When we knew we'd last forever and a day,
In endless games of hide and seek.
Though trails and streams so surely wear away,
That dappled smile still warms my cheeks.

Glistening with peace in the sweltering air,
Slightest breeze on bare skin,
Chalked fingers brush a cool bulge of stone.
Power and grace dancing skyward to where,
I call exultant to him.
He joins me there and I'm not alone.

The soft rush of water in the coy pond below,
Fifteen stories of space,
I tremble in her warm winter grip.
A questioning glance sets her brown eyes aglow,
Half a moon on her face,
Cast in shadow with the meeting of lips.

Where we knew we'd last forever and a day,
In endless fields of scree and bliss.
Though winter moonlight quickly ebbs away,
No tide can wash the sweetness from that kiss.

The scent of green apple in the flow of black hair,
Awar with cinnamon red,
They tug me 'round the billiard hall.
Coy smiles belie our game of cutthroat, aware
Of the duress in my head.
We take up our cues and lose all.

Butterflies flit through the forest above.
Her nervous shimmering eyes,
Speed the beat of my heart in her hand.
Shadowed white walls embrace our stories of love,
And our fumbled goodbyes,
She smiles a parting writ in the sand.

Still I knew we'd last forever and a day,
In endless games of pool charades.
Though brilliant wingbeats swiftly turn to gray,
The soft warmth of her fingers never fades.

A bag of Lender's bagels at the end of the row,
In the grocery store,
Raisin cinnamon for sixty nine cents.
Father said remember fifteen years ago,
And although he's no more,
I'll see them clear for many years hence.

Eastern Bloc

Nick said all things considered I did pretty well up to Japan. In Asia I think I did alright, too, considering I busked but twice. I knew it wouldn't be lucrative (it wasn't) and I'm also damned tired of it. Here in San Francisco I haven't even headed out for a busk yet. I believe it's time to move on. To what, though?

東京

Trains and Metros: ¥6,112
Food: ¥5,594
Bus to 大阪: ¥4,900

Total: ¥16,606
Earnings: ¥750
Net: -¥15,856

ASIA NET: -¥15,856
TOTAL NET: -¥53,307

大阪

Trains and Metros: ¥2,700
Food: ¥3,205
Locker: ¥800
Entrance Fees: ¥750
Printing: ¥20
Given to Ryan: ¥25
Flight to 臺北市: ¥17,150 (23,150)

Total: ¥24,650
Earnings: ¥0
Net: -¥24,650

ASIA NET: -¥40,506
TOTAL NET: -¥77,957

臺北市

Trains and Metros: 515 TWD
Food: 2,795 TWD
Shoes & socks: 568 TWD
Flight to Republik Singapura: 4,825 TWD

Total: 8,703 TWD
Earnings: 0 TWD
Net: -8,703 TWD

ASIA NET: -23,255 TWD
TOTAL NET: -36,710 TWD

Republik Singapora

Trains and Metros: 7.60 SGD
Food: 19.50 SGD
Left Luggage: 9.63 SGD
Flight to Jakarta: 48.00 SGD

Total: 84.73 SGD
Earnings: 0 SGD
Net: -84.73 SGD

ASIA NET: -1079.98 SGD
TOTAL NET: -1655.81 SGD

Jakarta

Food: 242,500 IDR
Entrance Fees: 193,000 IDR
DVDs: 21,000 IDR
Given to Bapak Misran: 33,500 IDR
Flight to Republik Singapura: 239,000 IDR
Flight to 香港: 957,000 IDR

Total: 1,686,000 IDR
Earnings: 0 IDR
Net: -1,686,000 IDR

ASIA NET: -9,153,500 IDR
TOTAL NET: -13,135,000 IDR

香港

Flight to San Francisco: 4634 HKD

Total: 5234 HKD
Earnings: 0 HKD
Net: -5234 HKD

ASIA NET: -13,599.00 HKD
TOTAL NET: -17,236.70 HKD
TOTAL NET excepting nothing: -38,111.75 HKD

何何何...香港

So I don't take photos when I'm sick. Feh.





志蓮淨苑


大伯父的家

Song of the Day: 月亮代表我的心 - 鄧麗君

Jakarta, Day 1

Singapura, Day 1