Football or soccer? Whichever your preference (I say football), Brazil takes their fifth World Cup title home. Spectacular!

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And we're back to the Big Apple! Pics from our Bangkok/Singapore trip will be posted soon are posted here... Enjoy!

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We say goodbye to Singapore today. Jackie, Eugene, Greg and I went out for some very excellent sushi tonight, and then headed to Equinox, one of the bars in our hotel where we sipped on our requisite Singapore Slings while enjoying the amazing night view from seventy floors up.

In contrast to the Bangkok leg of the trip, we spent much of our time here in Singapore unwinding and relaxing as hard as we could poolside, venturing out occasionally to try the cuisines of the food hawker centers and taking the obligatory stroll down Orchard Road, Singapore's answer to Rodeo Drive and Madison Avenue. These relatively low-key days allowed us to recover somewhat between nights at some of the hottest nightclubs, boozing and dancing into the wee hours of the morning and hobnobbing with Asia's Beautiful People, including a host of Eugene's and Jackie's friends from Singapore and Hong Kong.

Soon we will head to the airport, ready to brave the excruciatingly long flight back home. See y'all in a bit.

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The wedding yesterday at the historical and uber-swanky Raffles Hotel was a very fine affair indeed. Eugene, my college buddy, was all dapper in his tux and pacing nervously back and forth as he welcomed guests to the ceremony in the hotel's Palm Garden. As the string quartet played, the guests began to take their seats and a hush fell over the crowd as Jackie appeared, resplendent in a beautiful white gown and her face glowing beneath the delicate veil.

As the couple held hands under the shade of the palm trees, the pastor began the ceremony. Curious hotel guests and passers-by watched and took photos from the balconies overlooking the courtyard, smiling their congratulations at the couple and giving them the thumbs-up. After the exchange of rings and the signing of the books, the obligatory kiss and the scores of camera flashes, the newlyweds left to the cheers of the crowds, heading indoors for the reception.

The rest of the evening went smoothly with the guests being treated to an exquisite ten-course banquet. All throughout the evening, the couple was being congratulated and wished well, but the moment I remember most was at the beginning of the ceremony, right before Jackie stepped onto the red carpet that led her down the aisle. As everyone turned their attention to the bride, I glanced at my old college buddy Eugene, and saw him as he spotted her. Their eyes met and they broke into mutual smiles. I love you, their smiles said to each other.

Congratulations, guys. You make a wonderful, wonderful couple. Here's to a lifetime of happiness together!

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We bade farewell to Thailand this afternoon and headed off to the airport, gazing silently out the windows of the air-conditioned car at the busy city going by at its frenetic pace and trying to soak in as much as we possibly could before facing the comparable austerity of Singapore. Newly arrived tourists lugged their heavy bags behind them, faces dripping with sweat and wide-eyed in wonder.

Hey look, that's what we looked like a few days ago when we arrived.

We wanted to tell them to have a good time, these tourists. We wanted to tell them to be prepared for the heat and the humidity. To never accept the prices off the street as quoted. Make sure you bargain the prices down. You never know how low you can go. Yes, you, the docile-looking lady with the polka-dot dress and horn-rimmed glasses. You may be in for a surprise here in Bangkok.

We wanted to tell them to visit the Grand Palace. Go to the Grand Palace even if everyone tells you that the Grand Palace is closed today. It's breathtakingly beautiful--even for the throngs of tourists chattering noisily in a hundred different languages.

Go perhaps to see a few rounds of Thai boxing. It's quite a spectacle. When you go, make sure the World Cup is over so that you can concentrate on the fights. It's funny if you have four huge screens above the boxing ring showing South Korea beating Italy. It's funny because when you hear the crowds cheering madly, you're not sure if it's because someone just got kicked violently in the ribs or because South Korea just scored a goal. The fights are spectacular.

Be ready for people to come up to you. Come see what we have to offer, they will plead. They will smile at you, they will tug at your arm. We want to tell this to you, the young man with the Bermuda shorts and the Hawaiian shirt, because you are farang, a foreigner, and you represent everything they are not.

We wanted to tell the graying sixty-something couple struggling with their Samsonite cases to expect a lot of calls to see live entertainment that would shock them speechless. We wanted to tell them to eat off the streets because the food is delicious. That the street vendor has spicy curries, and that his plastic-bagged ice teas are superb. Try some mango, some durian, some cherries. Try everything. Oh, how we wanted to tell the new tourists everything we did and saw and ate and drank. We wanted to tell them to have a great time.

Because we did.

Farewell, Thailand, and thank you. You certainly showed us an incredibly fantastic time.

Singapore, here we come.

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High above the streets of Bangkok, the new Skytrain whooshes powerfully by, carrying passengers to and fro and providing for us an air-conditioned respite from the oppressive heat and madness of the streets below. We travelled this way yesterday morning to the Jim Thompson House, where we spent some time wandering about the house of the famous American who helped revive the local silk industry, and who mysteriously disappeared some thirty-five years ago in the Malaysian Highlands. We wandered about the grounds for a while, marvelling at the traditional sloped walls and extraordinary collection of fine art before we decided to brave a water taxi down the narrow Khlong Sen Seb canal.

After we got off the boat, we walked around for a bit, heading in the direction of the Grand Palace and stopping occasionally to try the fare of the street vendors whose vibrant displays intrigued us the most. Before long we were approached by several people calling to us. You want shopping, sir? Try the Export Center, sir. They have good sale today, sir. With concerned looks on their faces, they all told us that it was a national holiday and that some of the temples were closed for ceremonial purposes. Tuk-tuk drivers rode alongside us as we walked, offering rides on their colourful and noisy three-wheeled vehicles at a steep discount. Today is Buddha holiday. King give us free gas money to help with tourism. Let me take you for a ride, sir. Cheap. Only ten Baht for you and ten Baht for you. Let me take you for a ride.

"No, not now," we smiled. "We will walk a little."

One persistent tuk-tuk driver followed us around, smiling and offering to take us on a city tour. Twenty Baht for you two. I drive you around city until three o'clock when Grand Palace reopens. Today holiday. Grand Palace closed until three o'clock.

Greg and I looked at each other. Why not, we thought. What else would we do until the Grand Palace reopened at three? And at twenty Baht, that was less than fifty American cents for three hours of touring. The experience alone of riding one of the tuk-tuks was worth more than that. "Okay," we agreed.

The tuk-tuk driver smiled. "But I will take you afterwards to Thai Export Center," he said. "They have good sale today. They give me gas coupon to bring you there. Good for you, good for me," he explained.

"Sure," we said.

We clambered into the back of the tuk-tuk, and he sped off, deftly weaving in and out of the traffic with frightening skill. The noise from the multitude of cars, motorbike taxis and other tuk-tuks, once on the fringe of our auditory senses, now enveloped us in rich three-dimensional sound. Blue smoke from the tiny vehicles clogged the roadways, mixing with the city smells and providing an amazing juxtaposition of the foul odours of the roads and canals and the intoxicating aromas wafting by from the foods and flowers of the street vendors. We hung on for dear life, laughing and giggling, and pointing at a thousand things whizzing by.

Our tuk-tuk driver drove us around the city, taking us to see several temples, their Buddhas all in various states of rest. "Now I take you to see Export Center, okay?" he said, after about ninety minutes. We nodded assent.

He drove us to a clothing store, where we walked around looking at the offerings of wool, cashmere and luxuriant silks, all of which we were told could be made into suits and pants for us in twenty-four hours. "Beautiful fabrics," we said, "but no thank you."

When we got out of the store, the tuk-tuk driver looked disappointed that we hadn't purchased anything. "That okay," he said. "I take you to another store. I get gas coupon from them, too. Okay if you buy nothing, but better for me if you buy." He looked at us. "Cheap prices. Good for you, good for me."

He then drove us to a jewellery store, where a nice woman named Flower showed us an impressive collection of sapphires, rubies and other gemstones all beautifully placed into rings, earrings, pendants and brooches. "Beautiful trinkets," we said, "but no thank you."

Again, our tuk-tuk driver looked disappointed when we emerged from the store once again empty-handed. By this time we had become more than a bit suspicious, and we turned to our guidebook:

Greg and I looked at each other.

"Uhm, we'd like for you to take us to the Grand Palace now," we said. The tuk-tuk driver looked defeated.

"Okay," he said.

And as we disembarked near the Grand Palace, we paid the driver our agreed twenty Baht, bright red from embarrassment that we had just fallen victim to one of the city's tourist scams.

"Thankfully we didn't buy anything," we said. "But..." And we paused. "But we must never, never tell anyone about this."

And we walked off shaking our heads and laughing.

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Two days in Bangkok and every hour we are bombarded with new sights, smells and sounds. Sweat drips off our foreheads and our shirts cling drenched to our backs, testament to the ever-present heat and humidity of the tropics. Everything is at once colourful, dirty, spicy, polite, bold, vulgar, and beautiful--and we are constantly overwhelmed by the remarkable way life is tightly woven together into this incredible city.

We flew into Bangkok late Saturday night on Aeroflot, and watched in amazement as our taxi took us through the busy night market at Thanon Silom, staring with incredulity at the baby elephant being gently guided down the sidewalk. Wow, look at that. No one as much as bats an eyelid save the tourists giggling and gawking wide-eyed in awe.

Everywhere we go, street vendors hawk their wares at us, inviting us to sample the endless array of curries, soups, broths, noodles, pastries, and rice dishes being cooked on the sidewalks in makeshift kitchens. It is all deliciously intoxicating, and we eat. We eat and we eat and we eat. We eat until we are full, and then we eat some more. But we draw the line at the deep-fried assortment of larvae, beetles, cockroaches, crickets and gigantic scorpions all crispy and glistening under the heat of the simmering night air. No thanks, not for us. We are full, thank you. Maybe tomorrow. And we hurry off lest they think we are afraid. People come up to us asking us to see their wooden baskets, their rattan placemats, their pewter vases, their wood carvings, their silk prints. All so beautifully crafted. All so cheap. Then there are the counterfeit watches and sunglasses with names like Gucci and Armani emblazed boldly across their faces. All for sale just today at prices just for us. The vendors pull us in all directions, some with silent, woeful stares, others with more insistent arm-tugging and persistent calls out to us. Come sir, please take a look, sir. We have very special price for you, sir.

And of course there is the sex trade.

Prostitution is legal here, and we are besieged with calls. Please come to our bar. Please have a look. We have girls for you. We have the best girls in Thailand. Want to see our ping-pong show? We have girls for you. Please, sir. We politely decline and walk away. Boys, sir? They do anything for you. Please sir, come look inside. They change their sales pitches without missing a beat, all to cater to the thriving business, and it is amusingly disconcerting at times. What are you looking for, sir? Can we help you find something? Someone? We help you find girls. We help you find boys. Whatever you want.

It's amazing to walk down the streets of Soi Patpong, with Buddhist shrines tucked gingerly between the go-go bars and nightclubs. The girls wave to us and smile. The boys wave to us and smile. They are all so beautiful, these people with their bronze skin and their taut bodies gyrating hypnotically to the mesmerising music. And they all live in harmony here, the homosexuals and the heterosexuals. It's simply not an issue in the Buddhist tenets on life.

Live and let live.

It is all so wonderfully overwhelming. Sensory overload. And as we walk down the streets trying to take it all in, we stare in wonder at the nearest Buddha smiling down at us.

Everyone is happy.

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We're finally here! We endured the 14-hour flight to Tokyo, chasing the sun all the way west so that the day was extended another few hours. I sat next to Christopher, a little boy (almost seven years old, he demanded) who took up much of my time playing word games, typing on my computer and drawing on the endless supply of paper I provided. He was quite the travelling companion, and it was a difficult goodbye when we changed planes for the second leg to Singapore.

It's 3 am now here in Singapore, and the time inversion is playing games with our minds. We're off to Bangkok later this evening. Gotta catch some sleep.

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And we're off to South-East Asia!

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Fantastic!

Last night at 8:46 pm, weighing in at 5lb 9oz, Emma Sydney was born to my brother Peter and his wife Linda. As first-time parents, they're understandably as thrilled as can be. Congratulations to the parents, and welcome to Emma!!!

Hey, that makes me an uncle. Again!

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I'm working out of the Wilmington office today, trying desperately to shake off an impending cold of sorts. We met up with Jess and Marc Friday night for dinner and a performance of Chicago City Limits, an improv show that had us all in stitches (if you enjoy the show, bring your friends; if you don't, bring your enemies). It's always interesting meeting someone for the first time, and we had a wonderful time with them. Thanks for inviting us out, guys. We had a blast!

Saturday night we hung out with Victor and Chris at Pegasus, singing and dancing in drunken stupor until 6 am the following morning. Then we woke up three hours later to run errands before our trip. Three hours of sleep? After a night of inebriated debauchery? And we're expected to be functional? Someone shoot me, please.

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It's that time of the year again. Time for a vacation, time to get away from the hectic hustle and bustle of the Big Apple, time to defragment my mind's hard drive with its thousand slivers of disjointed thoughts. It's also wedding season, and one of my old college buddies, Eugene, is getting married in a couple of weeks. So we booked our tickets last week to go see him get married. In Singapore. Yeah! Oh, and our trip to the other side of the planet includes a few days in Thailand, too! We're leaving next Thursday. Six more days. I can't wait...

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Number 3044 in the JP Morgan Chase Corporate Challenge. Or so the piece of paper pinned to my tee-shirt said this evening as I raced the 3.5 miles along with some 14,000 runners in Central Park. Maybe I should have really trained hard for this before trying it on a lark with my colleagues. Or at least warmed up and stretched a bit. Either way, I'm gonna be achin' over the next few days. Oh, and of course the post-race celebrations at the beautiful garden patios of Tavern on the Green left me just a wee bit tipsy. The real reason for running. Yeah.

Don't even ask me what my time was. I'm going to pass out now; please excuse me as I collapse into a sorry heap of nothingness.

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Quiet weekend. Lots of sleep. And I mean lots of sleep. Friday night, Indian food with Victor and Chris. Saturday night, Thai food with Denis and Haruko. Tonight, Greek food with Jon and Cisca. Too much eating, too much sleeping, too much lazing around.

The one good thing is that Greg and I got to the gym at 7:30 Saturday morning and got a few games of squash in before he headed off to Vermont. That's pretty ambitious, actually. Seven-thirty on a Saturday morning? Good grief! The gym wasn't even open yet, so we had a lazy breakfast at the deli next door.

And because I promised Denis and Haruko I wouldn't blog about them, I'll just say I had wonderful dinners with everyone. Thanks for the birthday dinners, all. They were all wonderfully wonderful!

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