Winter Holiday 2020: Boisterous Bangkok and Magical Malaysia

Before Kris and I spent almost every waking moment in our apartment due to the viral threat, we were fortunate enough to do some travelling. We attended Bangkok Hat and ate our way around the city before exploring western Malaysia, a country that was new to us, but came highly recommended from friends. Between eating everything in sight, learning about the history of the region, and relaxing on a picturesque island, our adventures gave us memories to fuel us through the current isolation.

Bangkok

The inciting event for this trip was attending Bangkok Hat 2020, but we had some time before the tournament to see more of Bangkok itself. Last time around, we got scammed but still managed to get an overall picture of the city. This year, the highlight of our brief time in Bangkok was a food tour, organised by A Chef’s Tour. We were looking to sample as much Thai food as we possibly could in one half-day.

We were guided through the markets and streets of Oldtown, eating some of the most down-to-earth yet divine food. We ate known favourites like massaman curry and khao soi, and other local specialities that we ate and promptly forgot the names of. Our host, Ar, told us enough about the restaurants and surrounding areas to pique our interests and fill the time spent travelling between meals, but the focus was on the food, which was truly delightful. We were too busy enjoying our time to even take photos, but the tour will remain in our memories, and I highly recommend it to anyone who visits Bangkok.

Apart from the tour, most of our time was spent playing Ultimate and hunting for food in our area, topping off each night with a bowl of mango sticky rice. Walking the streets of Nana at night is certainly an experience. We were staying in a hotel on what turned out to be a bar street, complete with ladies of the night sitting provocatively in bars, calling out to men that walked past. It was intriguing for a few nights, but I’m glad that it’s not something that I have to see every day.

Our final bowl of mango sticky rice of the trip.

Kuala Lumpur

We then left Bangkok behind, bodies still aching from the Ultimate, and hearts still aching from leaving behind mango sticky rice. Our first stop in Malaysia was Kuala Lumpur. Sadly, one of our first two days there was completely rained out. While we trawled the shopping centres and even did an escape room, the rain dampened our initial impression of the city. Petronas Towers are a sight to behold, but the more we travel in Asia, the more we feel that most big cities are remarkably similar. We reserved judgement on KL though, as we would return for another short stint at the end of our trip.

Oh hey, there they are!

Cameron Highlands

From Kuala Lumpur, we took a bus to the rural, mountainous Cameron Highlands. We thought that the quieter setting would help us settle down from the bustle of the big cities we’d been in up until this point. Middling misfortune meandered along with us, as Kris was struck down with a stomach bug for most of our first day there. We were disheartened, but we arranged a tour for the next morning and rested.

We rose early, and met our tour guide with as much energy as we could muster soon after sunrise. He was an incredibly charismatic man with an admirable moustache and an even more admirable knowledge of the area. He had lived in Cameron Highlands for over sixty years, and been a tour guide for over thirty of them. Whether we were basking in the early-morning beauty of the tea fields or simply visiting a local museum, our guide had a story to tell. Disappointingly, we found that most of the activities on the tour were easily accessible from our hotel. Only the tea fields and factory visit would have been a hassle for us. Luckily these two were the highlights of the day. Photographs can’t capture the serenity of the tea fields, and learning how leaves on bushes become the greatest hot beverage was a brief yet rewarding time. These two combined with spending time with our host were worth the rest of the tour being a bit of a let-down.

Yeah, that’s quite pretty.

Georgetown

The next morning, we almost missed our bus from Cameron Highlands to Penang. There were almost no taxis (a commodity more common in Korea than coffee shops), and it took us far longer to arrange one than we had planned for. We were saved only by the most dedicated taxi driver and fortuitous traffic. After a frantic taxi ride, a less frantic bus trip, and a ferry from Penang to Georgetown itself, we settled into our hotel for the next two nights, which was a gorgeously well-preserved historic building. We could feel the history and meshing of Chinese, English, and Indian cultures around us.

Kids on Bicycles, one of the more famous pieces of street art in Georgetown.

This sense of history was given context and detail for us that evening, when we embarked on another food tour – Heritage on a Plate. Our guide, Danny, told us the history of the city of Georgetown while we walked the streets and sampled its food. Unlike our tour in Bangkok where the food was the focus, eating was an accent, exemplifying what we had learned about this fascinating city. We ate traditional Tamil snacks as we learned how local Hindus would put up Feng Shui mirrors to ward off bad luck, just in case. We were told about how Buddhists worshipped at shrines to Hindu god Ganesha after eating samosas and roti jala. We were told about how one of the local marketplaces was cursed in multiple different ways, before sitting down for some sublime, hand-made noodles. It was my personal highlight of the entire trip. Travelling can often make you feel disorientated or like you don’t know anything about where you are. Our time with Danny grounded us in Georgetown, and we could feel his love for this city that, sadly, may not be the same the next time we visit. Gentrification and global trends are shifting Georgetown away from its unique melding of cultures. We are glad that we managed to get a glimpse of it when we did.

Skippy, another famous piece of street art, has been worn away by time.

We spent the majority of our other full day in the city visiting places and restaurants that Danny had mentioned, exploring the street art of the city, and just taking in the space. We walked the streets unguided, and got one last taste of Georgetown before moving on.

Langkawi

From the deep culture of Georgetown to the natural beauty of Langkawi. Everything that we did in our two days and change on this island was in service of its gorgeous landscape. We ate at restaurants that were well-positioned to enjoy its sunsets,as you can see above.

We hiked through its mountainous forests, learning about the local wildlife from a guide with a possibly unhealthy interest in snakes.

We kayaked through its mangrove forests, watching the eagles and kites dive for food thrown into the water by tourist boats.

We couldn’t get a good shot of the eagles. Here is the scenery and Kris’ feet instead.

We lounged on one of its pristine beaches.

I know when words don’t quite do justice to a location, and Langkawi is one such place. Georgetown may have touched on our love for the story behind a city, but we never felt more at peace than we did in Langkawi. From the first sunset to the last, it was a natural wonder that not even being a popular tourist destination could taint.

Kuala Lumpur 2.0

After an all-too-short stay, our time in Langkawi came to an end, and we returned to Kuala Lumpur for the last two days of our tour of Malaysia. While we still felt that it was just another big city, we found uniqueness in it. We visited a theme park that we couldn’t go to earlier because of the rain. We met up with a friend from Bangkok Hat and tried out some Malay food that we hadn’t heard of before. We spent our last evening enjoying the view from the pool on the roof of our hotel and sampling one last taste of local food at a food truck market. Our time in Malaysia was over, and our last days in KL gave us a chance to reflect and truly appreciate the special moments we’d had.

The view from the pool atop our hotel.

Good food, natural beauty, deep cultural experiences – we found it all in Bangkok and Malaysia. Kris and I always feel blessed that we have the opportunity to visit new countries and live in new places, even only for a while. From the bustle of Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur, to the tea fields of the Cameron Highlands, to the melting pot of Georgetown, to the serene beauty of Langkawi, we managed to visit places that we will not soon forget.

Bangkok Hat 2020: Year of the Panther

Bangkok Hat was a personal highlight of 2019, which meant that Kris and my return to the tournament held a lot of both excitement and expectation. Would it be as good as last year? Could it perhaps be even better? Through an incredibly spirited team, even better food, and stellar organization, Bangkok Hat’s 20th anniversary tournament proved that even the highest of standards can be exceeded.

At the heart of my Bangkok Hat 2020 was my team: the Pink Panthers. A healthy mix off veterans, young stars, up-and-comers, and middle-of-the-road players like myself, we clicked as a team from before the first game. We established connections by all taking the effort to learn each others’ names right away (something that I didn’t even manage to completely do through the entirety of Bangkok Hat 2019). This helped bring us together and develop team chemistry right away. 

From this solid baseline, we never stopped growing as a team. We weren’t quite the star-studded teams that challenged the eventual A-bracket finals, but I’d wager that there wasn’t a team that had more fun on the field that we did. The Panthers fostered an atmosphere of growth – all team huddles were constructive and encouraging, and ended with a hearty cheer (either the classic Pink Panther theme or simply screaming ‘PP!’). We managed to take home the B Bracket Championship (also known as the Beer Bracket or Chumpionship). More importantly, we left the tournament as friends with some vibrant memories of a weekend well-spent.

Many of the other memories made from Bangkok Hat 2020 came from the moments spent eating the food provided for us. I have yet to have better lunches, dinners, and snacks at a tournament, and this year’s offerings outshone even last year. My favourites from this year were the khao soi (crispy egg noodles) and fresh coconut. Drinking from a freshly-cut coconut on the sideline on Sunday refreshed me and gave me the energy I needed to give the Panthers everything that I could in our last few games.

I was not the only one putting my all into this year’s Bangkok Hat. The organisers outdid themselves this year. They clearly wanted the 20th iteration to be one to remember. Apart from the outstanding food, there was also water, alcoholic smoothies, beer, and snacks, free to all participants. Everyone received a jersey and a disc as part of their registration. There were massages available on the sidelines. There was also a memorable party on the roof of a hotel, with free drinks flowing throughout. Almost the entire tournament ran on time, with only a few games on Sunday falling significantly behind. I cannot imagine putting together a tournament like Bangkok Hat, and the 20 years of experience are evident in every small detail.

While Bangkok Hat is not a cheap tournament, it is worth all of the money and effort spent to be there. My team was amazing, the food was incredible, and the tournament ran smoother than fresh coconut water. If you’re thinking about whether to make Bangkok Hat a part of your Ultimate schedule in 2021, just do it. If I’m still in the region, I’ll see you there!

Featured Image by Zrs Gamboa.

B Pool Champions!

2019: Sowing Small Seeds for Satisfaction

I think that my 2019 reflections arriving at the beginning of February neatly sums up what the year was like for me. Days, weeks, even months went by awfully quickly, and I never really felt entirely on top of everything that I was trying to achieve. However, compared to the bog of self-hatred and dissatisfaction that was 2018, 2019 saw a number of little victories that gave me enough pride in myself to feel that I was actively moving forward, even if I wasn’t quite going as quickly as I’d like.

Firstly, I started reading for pleasure far more than I had been in previous years. I completed a book of the month challenge set by an online friend of mine, dipping my toe outside of my literary comfort zone each month and broadening my reference base in the process. I also rediscovered my love for comic books. The blend of words and pictures creates a medium unlike any other, and I have indulged in stories that would be impossible or far less well-realized in any other format. Spending more time in stories has helped me add new perspectives to my own life, and also provided necessary escape when a day was particularly draining.

‘The Smoke’ by Simon Ings – a tale where the world discovered gene manipulation before the First World War. A personal highlight from the reading challenge.

Taking in more tales led to my next piece of progress – writing more often. While sadly not for this blog (yay, mandatory apology for not writing here enough out of the way!), I have been spreading my writing wings. I mentioned this in a previous post, and I have been steadily writing pieces since then. Not as steadily or regularly as I’d like, but enough that the ever-present dread and shame of being a poser who only claims to write things is assuaged more consistently than it was since I stopped writing for GosuGamers and posting twice a week on here. I have also begun writing comic reviews on a second site, Multiversitycomics.com. Joining a site as exculsively a reviewer (even if I’m currently only writing small micro-reviews for the last few editions of their Wrapping Wednesday series) is more validating than it rightly should be. I even managed to get some reviews into the last few issues of PanelxPanel, the comics journalism magazine that reignited my love for comics in the first place. Hopefully I can forge a consistent habit and hone my craft in 2020.

Beyond honing my craft, I made small choices to hone my body as well. Nothing drastic, mind, but my pudginess and general health habits needed some adjustment. After Kris watched a particularly intriguing TED Talk on how vegetarianism was an unnecessarily binary, we have changed our diets to be mostly vegetarian, only eating two meals with meat in them per week. This means that we generally eat completely vegetarian meals during the week, and have the freedom to eat meat when we see friends on the weekend. It’s not perfect, but it’s far better than not being concerned at all. Beyond that, I have begun working out more often, usually playing Ring Fit Adventure on the Switch. It may not be a complete workout regimen, but doing squats to slay anthropomorphised yoga mats and kettlebells gets me surprisingly sweaty. I aim to be in better shape going into the next Ultimate season, instead of using Ultimate as my sole source of exertion. With a little over a week until I go to Bangkok Hat, there’s not much time before I see whether my efforts have been in vain.

Who wouldn’t want to defeat that guy?

I always feel odd writing posts where I celebrate victories in my life, especially small ones or ones that are simply beginnings of larger journeys. I don’t want to make it seem like I believe that my entire world is going to change because I send some words out into the gaping void that is the Internet. My body type isn’t going to change overnight because I spend a few minutes playing a fitness game. However, without these little changes, I would be stagnant. In today’s ever-shifting world, there are few worse things than that. So I’ll take my tiny achievements. Perhaps I’ll build on them. Maybe I won’t. But at least I made an effort to better myself, and succeeded.

The Power of Pen on Paper

This year, I have probably read more words than I have in any previous year. Most of these have been through a screen – digital comics, social media, online news, and all too rarely, my own words for this blog. And yet, the words that I found had the most consistent emotional impact on me were the brief messages scrawled lovingly on cards and notes. There’s just something special about some surprise sentences from a dear friend that short-circuits my emotional defenses and lets them reach right into my heart.

It’s always nice to find an unexpected message from someone you care about, wherever it may present itself. Even a short ‘Hey, how are you?’ on a messaging service after a long period of life-induced silence can lead to a welcome catch-up and sharing of stories.

And yet, I still find myself at a greater emotional distance with digital messages than I do from a postcard sent on a whim, or even a birthday card. I can’t pinpoint one clear reason why I find myself disarmed by written messages, treasuring them more than all but the most heartfelt interactions on social media.

It’s partly because they are so one-sided – with digital communication, there is most often a tacit expectation of a response, and most of the time a rapid one. Written notes and cards have no such expectation. You take the time to write them, knowing that their recipient might not reply. You write them just to make them happy, and that purity of purpose fascinates me.

After reading so many words through screens, there is also something special about holding a piece of paper and seeing them pressed directly into the surface. Whether the person’s handwriting is godawful like mine (be thankful that this blog is not written by hand, because there would only be a handful of you able to read the chicken scratch that comes when I am writing a creative piece in a fit of inspiration), carefully pristine, or somewhere in between, I can so vividly picture the character behind each piece. This is much harder when their words are uniformly dulled by typeface.

Finally, handwritten communication is just simply rarer. We all gorge on swathes of digital verbiage, and receiving something written for you only happens a few times per year. This has lead us Kris and I to make happiness totems of the few that we have, tactically placing them on surfaces where we can catch a glimpse of them when we least expect it, hearken back to the moment we first read them, and smile at the memory.

All of this is not to lessen the importance of keeping in touch digitally. It is certainly an easier and more instant form of communication, and is much more convenient for keeping up with everyone in your life. However, while handwritten letters and cards may not be a universally useful tool, they are impactful and meaningful expressions of your feelings for those that you deem worthy of them, and Kris and I both treasure each one that we have been lucky enough to receive.

Cycles

Life is little but the same cycles repeating, with wrinkles of variation.

On Friday evening, Kris and I travel for an ultimate tournament. After a few hours, we arrive in the city. We stay over at our friends house. We eat dinner. We talk. We play a boardgame. We go to sleep. We wake up on Saturday morning and head to the field. We meet our teammates. We play a few games. There is some entertainment to occupy us in the downtime. We play some more. We take a tournament photo. We shower and get ready for dinner. We eat barbecue for dinner. We head to the party. We party. We go home.

On Sunday morning, we prepare to play more Ultimate. We play. We hang out on the sideline when we are not playing. We eat a late lunch. We spend some time with friends while waiting for our transport. We travel back home. Catsby yells at us. We go to sleep. We face the new week. I vow to write a blog post. I procrastinate.

Life is little but the same cycles repeating, with wrinkles of variation.

On Friday evening, Kris and I travel for an ultimate tournament on Jeju island. After an hour flight, we arrive on the island. We stay over at our friends house, where we’ve never stayed before. We eat a delicious dinner that our friend lovingly made herself. We talk, catching up on the small talk we haven’t been able to have because we don’t see each other as often as we’d like to. We play a boardgame that Kris and I had never played, and were justifiably terrible at it. We go to sleep, eagerly awaiting the hat tournament the next day. We wake up on Saturday and head to the field, with our friend driving us there, chatting all the while. We meet our teammates, a mixture of old friends and island folk we hadn’t had the chance to bond with before. We play a few games with everyone in costume, trying to keep their outfits together and still play decently. There is a field-side game show to occupy us in the downtime, all meticulously planned for maximum fun and price-guessing opportunities. We play some more, with no-one stressing about the results and everyone just having the best time. We take a tournament photo, with some costumes in a state of disarray. We shower and get ready for dinner at another new house. We eat barbecue for dinner, and I have the best kimchi jjigae I’ve ever had. We head to the party, marveling at people’s new costumes for the evening. We party, Kris and I feeling a little out of the loop with the strong party and costume game in the club. We go home, arguing that the costume contest was a sham and some people are the worst.

On Sunday morning, we prepare to play goaltimate on a beach. We play, with everyone a little less energetic than the day before. We hang out, and are surprised by a visit from a long-travelling friend’s sudden return. We eat a late lunch, the best fish and chips on the island for Kris, and a solid burger for me. We spend some time with friends while waiting for our transport, teaching them rugby as we watch South Africa win their world cup semi-final. We travel back home, a short flight and subway away. Catsby yells at us, his way of saying he misses us. We go to sleep, determined to to return to our friends on Jeju soon. I vow to write a blog post. I procrastinate.

Life is little but the same cycles repeating, with joy in the wrinkles of variation.

Oh Hey, I Write Stuff Elsewhere, Too

I both thoroughly enjoy and have significant anxiety about the act of writing. Part of the reason I started this blog was to give myself a consistent channel through which to express myself in awkward, rambling written words as opposed to my awkward, mumbling speech. However, as time has gone by, I’ve been less and less reliable with posting here, with 2018 being particularly barren of content. This failure spurred me into seeking out other places to scratch my writing itch, and in April, I was lucky enough to find Comic Book Resources.

Comic Book Resources (CBR for short, because if I have to write that one more time I will just resort to copy-and-paste until the end of time) is what I would call a nerd culture site. It keeps those interested in comic books, superhero films, and most off-centre television up-to-date with the latest happenings in each field. After months of frustration at my lack of drive to write, I applied to be a freelance writer there. They seemed to like my writing style, and after an initial trial period, I soon melded with the sea of other writers on the site.

Writing for CBR has given me a great deal of satisfaction. Although I started out writing about Marvel moustache contests and Mark Hamill’s views on Luke Skywalker’s sex life, I have gained confidence in myself on the site. I have started doing more substantial pieces, like announcements for new comics from my favourite creators.

It has also been humbling to see the scale of CBR. It is one of the largest sites of its kind, and the viewership of some of my more popular pieces have been more than this blog’s entire history. While it is not surprising that more people are interested in learning who’s playing President Robert Redford in the upcoming Watchmen series than hearing about my mundane life, it certainly puts things in stark perspective.

Arguably the biggest impact that CBR has had on my writing is showing me the power of a good, dedicated editor. The editorial staff have been able to elevate some of my more pedestrian writing into sharp, focused pieces. I have definitely grown as a writer there.

So, if you’re interested in checking out some of my attempts at journalism, you can find a full list of my articles here. I’ve enjoyed the experience immensely, and the more regular output has helped me hone my skills as a writer. I look forward to using the lessons I’ve learned there to keep you better informed and entertained here.

Six Things From Sixes: Vol 4

Another year, another Six On the Beach. The best event of the Korean Ultimate calendar rolled around last weekend, and Kris and I once again cut a trip to South Africa short in order to be back in time for it (sorry Dalene!). With every Sixes that I go to, I learn new things about myself, Ultimate, the community, Korea, or all of the above. Here are the lessons that this year brought.

Never go full neon.

Every year, Sixes has a themed party. This year’s was neon, a simple yet effective choice. Partygoers were decked in every luminous shade imaginable. Some had a small neon accessory to complement an otherwise stylish outfit. I decided to don bright yellow neon shorts and a matching shirt. I also emblazoned my arms and face with neon bodypaint. I could see the light coming off of my clothes on the faces of those next to me in on the dancefloor. It makes you easy to find, but difficult to be close to for a long time.

If I get drunk enough, I will consume everything in sight, including cold cup noodles left at a convenience store.

Yep. Someone ate half of a cup of noodles and left them at the convenience store closest to the bar. I came upon them later and slurped them all, to the horror of those around me. Needless to say, I do not recall this event.

Sixes is a great place to say hello or goodbye to the Korean Ultimate community.

Between the revels mentioned above, the welcoming atmosphere, and the emphasis on having fun, there really is no better place to begin or end your Korean Ultimate journey than at Sixes. Every year, there are many heartfelt farewells for those whose watch has ended, and cheerful introductions from those taking their first steps in the community. These cycles beginning and ending at the same time is heartwarming sight to behold.

Seven! Seven! E-le-ven!

If you have a Nintendo Switch, bring it with you for all Ultimate travel.

You never know when express train tickets will be sold out and you’re staring down a 5-hour bus ride back to Seoul with no means of entertainment. You could talk to your wife, but who wants to do that?

The best hat tournaments show the organisers’ hearts and souls piercing every part of them.

Sixes would not be the wonder it is without its parents, Ollie and 선화. Their love for the sport, the people, and the event is clear from the moment it is first announced until long after it is over. While more serious tournaments are arguably improved by feeling like a well-oiled machine, the charm of Sixes come from it feeling like the biggest family gathering in Korean Ultimate. From impassioned speeches, to walking around checking on the teams, to making sure that everyone is adequately fed, watered and sunscreened, the team behind Sixes elevate it from an ordinary hat to a vital fixture of the Korean Ultimate calendar.

With my fifth Sixes and fourth post about it (if you like, you can read about my experiences in 2015, 2017, and 2018), I am pleased to say that Sixes never fails to improve on itself. This edition truly was the best yet, and I can’t wait to see how it will be topped next year!

ROK-U: The Reason I Stayed in Korea

2019 marks the fifth year that Kris and I have been in Korea. In that time, we’ve made innumerable memories (some of which I’ve been studious enough to record here) and a host of lifelong friends. I can wax lyrical about how we’ve made our own home, about how our teaching jobs have improved with every changed contract, or about how easy it is to be comfortable in Korea. However, were it not for ROK-U, we’d have almost certainly left Korea after our first contract.

Awww.

For new readers to this blog, ROK-U is a social Ultimate Frisbee league that happens in the autumn (no, Americans, it is not fall) and spring of each year. Basically, people who love throwing pieces of plastic at each other gather for four or five weekends, throw plastic at each other, socialize, and generally have a great time.

2015 was, without a doubt, the most difficult year in Korea for Kris and I. Our first contract had the longest hours and we had almost no friends in our town. Kris was even accused of child abuse our first month of teaching. Our daily routine involved getting up, going to work, coming home, and playing video games until we fell asleep. On weekends, when we weren’t travelling, we were by ourselves in our apartment. Our calendar was far less full. We were enjoying the new experiences around us, but something was missing.

Oh yeah, I used to wear glasses. Also, flame on!

Then, six months into our stay, we played our first season of ROK-U. Our team only won one game the entire season, but that didn’t matter at all. We had found the ROK-U community. I had played sports growing up, from school to club hockey, and I had always socialized within my team. With ROK-U, you get to know as much of the league as you want to. ROK-U is far more than just a group of sports teams gathering to sports against each other to see who is better at sportsing. If you want it to be, it truly is a family that will welcome you and make however long you spend in Korea a much better time. Most of Kris’ and my strongest friendships come from the ROK-U community, and the wider Ultimate community we found by branching out from it.

Without ROK-U, we wouldn’t know any of these goobers.

We may have played Seoul League first, but ROK-U proved to be exactly what we wanted from an Ultimate league in Korea. The balance between enthusiastic games and making friends in the community is almost perfect. Everything can be improved, but we have never regretted signing up for a season of ROK-U.

It’s clearly a serious league for serious people. No fun allowed.

If you’re in Korea and interested in signing up for the Autumn 2019 season, all the information you need is here. I cannot recommend it more highly. It might be a fun activity for a few weekends. It might just be what holds you together when you truly need it.

The Five-Stack That Stuck

Everyone needs a hobby. Something that they can do after work to de-stress and bring joy into days that would otherwise be bland and dull. For me, that hobby is Dota 2, a competitive online multiplayer game. My fondest memories of the game came from my first few years of play, between 2013 and 2015. I dipped my toe into a new gaming world, found new friends, deepened otherwise shallow relationships, and even grew closer to the person who would later become my wife. All throughout, we experienced the wonder of playing on the same team, trying to win our digital battles.

I had grown up as almost the stereotype of a young white male in South Africa. While my family was firmly middle-class, I had been fortunate enough to attend one of the top schools in the country. I had graduated with results that could get me into any university that I wanted. I even completed a year of A-levels to study in the UK, before realizing how ludicrously expensive that would be. So, in 2010, I enrolled at the most well-regarded university in my city in a Commerce degree, majoring in Law and Economics. I found solid friends through the university’s nerd society – even being elected their president for a year. In mid-2012, I met a young woman named Kristen, fell in love instantly, and we began to date soon afterwards. Everything was rosy, apart from my second-year Economics results. I had failed the course in 2011, and was on the road to doing so again. After looking around during a third-year class, I realized that I disliked everyone in the room, the lecturer included. I promptly changed my major from Economics to Psychology, and my degree from Commerce to Arts. The path that had been set before me was shifting, and my concept of who I was, was in flux. The entirety of my 2013 would be spent catching up on Psychology units and questioning whether I had made the right choice.

At the beginning of the year, I heard about Dota 2 for the first time. I saw people playing it at a gaming event at the university, and I was intrigued by it. Dota 2 is a game based on DotA, a popular mod to Blizzard’s Warcraft 3. Players are divided into two teams of five, with each player controlling one hero each. Players can choose from over 120 heroes, each with unique abilities, strengths, and weaknesses. Players aim to get gold, which they use to buy items, and experience, which can make their character more powerful by levelling up. Teams work together to take the advantage in gold and experience from across the game map, with the final goal being to destroy the enemy Ancient, a towering building in the centre of their base. Once a team’s Ancient is destroyed, they lose the game. Games are generally between 30 and 60 minutes long, with shorter and longer games possible depending on the specific heroes that are chosen in the game. Dota 2 is a game of back-and-forth, trying to outwit your opponents. Your team needs to get more gold and experience than your opposition, and use your hero’s abilities to kill your enemies and destroy their Ancient.

As Dota 2 is a team game, the fact that I attempted to do all of this entirely by myself for my first few weeks of playing made my initial experiences much more confusing and challenging than they ever ought to have been. I had played the original DotA a decent amount in computer class in high school (yes, during the class – our poor computer class teacher was too nice to handle a room of 17-year-old boys), so I was familiar with the basic idea of the game, a good portion of the heroes, and some of the strategy. However, I was entirely new to the interface, and as someone who hadn’t played any team-based video games growing up, working together with strangers in a digital space was not a skill that I had yet acquired. Nevertheless, I persisted. The gameplay loop was immensely satisfying to me. Every game, I would start out weak and poor. I would then gradually build myself up. The game would go through tense periods where it could go either way, until one team won a definitive teamfight (where all members of the two teams clash, abilities fly, and one team generally ends up with fewer people dead than the other team). Then, the game would end with an Ancient blasting apart with a satisfying explosion. I was hooked.

I began to mention my appreciation for the game to anyone that I thought would have a vague interest in it, in the hope that we could play together. I raved about it to the members of my family of gaming age. I debated its merits at length with members of the university nerd club. I even got into a conversation about it with Sean, one of my opponents at a Magic: the Gathering tournament. I met Sean at a previous tournament. We’d had some polite banter then, so I struck up a conversation with him again. We talked about which video games we were currently playing, and I told him of my new obsession with Dota 2. He mentioned that he and a couple of his friends played occasionally. My eyes lit up, less in an endearing and hopeful way, and more in the manner of a man possessed by a mischievous imp. We exchanged our in-game information, and promised to meet up online in the following week. Thus, the seed for the stack was born.

In online gaming, a stack is the group of players that you queue together to play the game with. I had, up until this point, been playing in a stack entirely by myself. Not a very large or effective stack at all. The following week, Sean messaged me via Steam (the client that Dota 2 is launched through) and told me that his stack was getting together at his home that coming Friday to have an evening of Dota 2, and he asked if I’d like to join them. I tried my best to express my enthusiasm like a normal human being and not a feral animal. I’m not entirely sure that I succeeded, but Sean and the rest of the stack accepted me into their fold anyway.

When Friday came, I was nervous. I had played about two hundred games in my two months of experience with the game, but looking at the profiles of the people I would be joining, my achievements weren’t very impressive at all. Sean had played more than double the number of games, and he hadn’t even played the most. I pulled up to his driveway, was let through the gate, and I sat in the driveway for a moment, gathering my courage. I had met everyone before at Magic: the Gathering events, but I felt like this was a different arena, one where I was much less knowledgeable. I stepped out, laptop bag hanging over my left shoulder, and went into Sean’s house with the weight of nerves more than equalling that of the bag.

I was greeted by Sean. He is a large and gentle man with a warm smile. He talks in bursts, building up his confidence to express his opinions as fast and clearly as he can. Next I saw Richard. I had known him the longest. At the time, he was dating a good friend of mine, and we’d had a couple of prior conversations. Richard was even quieter than Sean, and equally as warm-hearted. His lanky build and unassuming demeanour helped ease me into the group. The final member was Duncan, who came in from the back porch after having a smoke. Duncan’s deep voice seemed at odds with his thin frame, but suited his philosophical nature perfectly. He greeted me with a chuckle and a firm handshake. I set up my laptop at the end of the long table. We all logged in and started queueing for a game. The next thing we knew, it was three in the morning, we had played five games together, and had the first of many nights of Dota 2 as a group. Too tired to drive home, Duncan, Richard, and I spent that night at Sean’s. We discussed the games we’d played and the most hilarious moments therein, and bid each other goodnight. We enjoyed the time so much, we played two more games the next day, even though we all had university deadlines pressing.

After that first meeting of our stack, our midweek games of Dota 2 would almost always involve at least two of us. Sean and I played together most often, with the others joining us when they could. We bonded over the sheer hours we would spend in contact, forming a friendship through text messages. We would give each other shit for stupid things we did in-game, share the latest strategies from the professional scene, and bask in victories that we definitely earned (and were not based in luck at all). When game talk was exhausted, we’d talk about life, our anxieties, and learn more about each other. Occasionally, we’d all get together for another evening of the Dotes (as we called it), have some drinks, and have even more fun.

During this time, my girlfriend Kristen grew increasingly frustrated with Dota 2. We lived about twenty minutes away from each other, and we saw each other every day. While I never started a game of Dotes while she was visiting, she would sometimes arrive at my house and I was in the middle of a game I had to finish. It never took more than twenty minutes or so, but claims of “Sorry love, I’m almost done!” happened enough to irk her. After one such claim, she sat down and decreed:

“Alright. I know that you really enjoy Dota. I understand that. I’ve tried to make sense of it while watching you as you’re playing. I know, I know, it’s hard to explain while you’re playing, that’s fine. Now. Here is what’s going to happen: I want to try learn Dota. I’d like you to teach me. If I end up liking it, then we can play together, which is much better than me waiting around for you to finish a game. If I don’t, you stop playing for good. I just can’t take it anymore, I’m sorry.”

I sat stunned for a moment. I loved Kristen, and had done from the moment I first met her. She was definitely way out of my league. She was far more beautiful and an infinitely better person than I deserved (she still is). As such, I agreed to her terms. I would be her coach as she learned the game. It is said that Dota 2 has one of the biggest learning curves in all of gaming, and I would be the one to show her the easiest path upward. I started by going through all of the heroes, telling her a bit about their backstory, and giving her a basic idea of what they could do. From there, she picked a handful that she wanted to use to learn, and I would sit behind her as she played, encouraging her and explaining the game mechanics. I could see the spark beginning to glint in her eyes. Soon, we were playing side-by-side, winning and losing together. Through her determination to try something I loved, we had gained a hobby that we could share, and we were both overjoyed. She liked playing strong female characters and styling on all the men, and I just loved doing anything with her, including playing Dotes.

In Kris’ training period, she had met the rest of the stack, now affectionately known as ‘the lads’, in-game. She had played a good deal with Sean and I, and with Richard and Duncan a handful of times. In order to improve relations, Sean decided to host another evening at his house, with Kris filling the as-yet-empty fifth slot in our stack. She was even more nervous than I was at my first evening. She perceived our gatherings as guy’s nights, where no women were allowed. She imagined us gathered round a fireplace smoking pipes and indulging in some jolly old digital escapism. Meeting everyone in person helped alleviate the tension. She saw that we all wanted her to be there, and we tried our best to make her feel like a true part of the stack, one of the lads. While she did not immediately take to the rest of the group like I had, within a couple of weeks playing together, we were a tight-knit group. She was soon yelling, throwing shade, and bantering with the best of us.

We revelled in each other’s company for over a year. We would get together once every few months, but meet up online at least once a week. Sean, Kris and I played together most often. We branched our friendship beyond Dotes, into board games and braais (a South African pastime similar to the American barbecue but superior in almost every way). The members of the stack were among the friends that I interacted with the most during that time of my life, all because of the hours we spent together trying to best the other team.

As inevitable as the fact that we couldn’t win every game was the realization that life would eventually pull us apart. In the beginning of 2015, Kris and I moved to South Korea for a year of teaching that turned into four years and counting. Rich moved to Australia, and Sean and Duncan graduated university and found jobs in their respective fields. The delay in the game between South Korea and South Africa proved unplayable, even with South Korea’s gloriously fast internet. We may not play together anymore, but I hold our times together as some of the fondest memories from those years. When Kris and I got married in 2017, we invited our stack, as they had invited us years before. Kris and I still play the Dotes almost every weeknight. We have had other, smaller stacks since, but nothing comparable to the one we had with Sean, Duncan, and Rich. There is yet to be a stack greater than the lads and the lady.

Someone once told me that friendships from a person’s school and university years are distinctly different from those formed in the years following, for the simple reason that the person spends significantly more time with school and university friends. Early friendships grow based on sheer masses of hours and days spent interacting with a person or group of people. When you have a job, you find fast friends all around, connecting and declaring friendship in moments rather than months. Time with friends has to be stolen from afternoons and evenings where you aren’t working, sleeping, eating, or working overtime.

It is this need for extra time with friends that I feel games like Dota 2 have helped with. It is mind-bogglingly difficult to arrange to meet up with a friend, particularly if they live in a different city or even on the other side of your own city. Many adult anxieties revolve around making plans with people. However, it is far easier to simply see that your friend is online in a game’s launcher, shoot them a simple ‘hey, wanna play a game or two?’, connect on voice chat, and catch up while destroying the enemy or being destroyed by them.

I have continued to use games as a means of connecting with people ever since I saw the potential through playing Dota 2. I use board games as my medium of choice these days, mostly because they are easier to teach than Dota 2, and are currently more in vogue. When I do find the rare people who either know the Dotes or are willing to learn it, I latch on to them quickly and fervently, and play together as often as possible. Living as an expat in South Korea means getting used to a cycle of people coming and going, and playing games together is one of the best ways that I’ve found to maximize connection in the often short period of time that we spend in the same country.

I’ve found Dota 2 the easiest and most effective way to build up time with a person. The game provides conversation starters, as you can talk about what’s happening in each game, their favourite heroes, or, if they are particularly interested, the professional matches going on at the time. There is ample time during the game to chat, as there are natural downtimes where both teams are simply acquiring gold or experience, and not teamfighting. There are also action-packed moments to fill what would otherwise be dead, awkward air between people who are getting to know each other. Even though Kris and I haven’t had a reliable stack of five people since we left South Africa, we have had many evenings making new friends or catching up with old ones over a few games of Dota 2.


Forging and maintaining friendships as an adult is a struggle shared by many people in the modern world. As a more introverted person, it is even more difficult for me, as activities like going out to a random bar and talking to strangers sounds like the opposite of how I would like to spend my time. I was fortunate to find Dota 2, an online gaming means to bond with others. It has helped me blossom relationships that would otherwise have wilted into awkwardness and disconnection. It has become a pastime that my wife and I have shared for thousands of hours at this point. It has been an escape for me when I needed one. Some might say that I am addicted, and they might be right, but when I reminisce about the moments I’ve shared with those I’ve been lucky enough to game with, I can’t help but feel love for the game.

Bangkok: Ancient and Modern, Together as One

Kris and I were lucky enough to recently have some fairly extended vacation, and we used it to explore some parts of two countries that we had not seen before – Thailand and Vietnam. Our first stop together was Bangkok. Most of our time spent in Bangkok was devoted to Bangkok Hat, which led to us only having about a day and a half to explore the rest of the city, split between a full exploration day and a morning/early afternoon spent trying to eat as much Thai food as humanly possible while not being late for our flight.

After spending a short time looking up where we should go, we settled on a preliminary plan of going to the city’s famous Chinatown in the late morning, eating lunch, then meeting up with a friend to see the Grand Palace together, eat dinner, and spend the evening as we wished. As we were walking towards Chinatown, we were stopped by an apparently helpful man, who stated that Chinatown is best seen in the afternoon, when the market was completely open. Mornings were rumoured to be the quiet times for the area. He suggested that we take a boat ride along the river that runs through the city, and even gave us the name of a place and grabbed a tuktuk for us. How helpful!

The boat ride was well worth it – for 45 minutes, we were driven up and down through the city, and we could see the diverse architecture and stark contrast of lifestyles that Bangkok plays host to. There were shanty houses situated directly next to majestic hotels, and ancient temples nestled between modern complexes. Bangkok is truly an ancient city that has managed to adapt to modern times.

The stunning Wat Arun. I wonder where George Lucas got inspiration for Jedi temples from…

After our boat ride dropped us off near the Grand Palace, we began to head towards it. We had arrived a little earlier than we had scheduled to meet up with our friend. Luckily for us, a local man came up to us and informed us that the palace was closed for two hours for a religious ceremony. He suggested that we should visit several other attractions in the area, including a smaller temple, a statue of Buddha, and a famous clothing store, and we would return in time for the Palace’s re-opening. He even managed to convince a tuktuk driver to act as our chauffeur for the entire round trip. How nice!

The temple was quaint but reverent, and the seeing a 40-metre tall Buddha statue was definitely the highlight of this small part of the trip, but by the time we reached the suit store, we became acutely aware of the true nature of our friendly helpers throughout the day. We had fallen for a couple of scams, designed to fill their friends’ pockets with extra money from gullible tourists. This was confirmed when our tuktuk driver insisted that, instead of returning to the Palace after the suit store, we stop past a jewelry shop instead. We were more than a little disappointed at this. This delay meant that by the time we returned to the Grand Palace, it was actually closed for the day, and we had missed our chance to see it.

Bangkok’s Chinatown – a bustling hub of street vendors

What we had previously perceived as local kindness was nothing more than greed. This was further confirmed after we eventually made it to Chinatown later that day and saw the same man who had directed us to the boat tour in the morning standing on the exact same corner that we had found him earlier in the day. While the scams hadn’t taken too much money from us, as everything in Bangkok is relatively cheap, and we had particularly enjoyed our boat ride, they had stolen an equally valuable resource – time. We could have been taking in other sights instead of being shown around suit stores or asked to try on jewelry we would never by. So, if you’re ever in Bangkok, just be aware of this.

Kris’ new food craving – mango sticky rice

We didn’t let our naivete spoil our experience too much. The city had some marvelous things to see, and equally marvellous things to eat. Kris fell in love with mango sticky rice, and I tried as many different soups, fried rice, and meat dishes as I could. My particular favourite was Chicken Tom Yum, with its balance of sourness and deep flavour. Thai food is significantly more varied in seasoning than Korean food, and we appreciated the change from our normal regular dishes greatly.

All in all, while Bangkok was mostly our home to play in the Hat, we enjoyed our time spent exploring its streets. We will certainly be more aware if we return there in the future, but the beautiful buildings, bustling city, and the call of mango sticky rice definitely put Thailand in the realm of countries that we hope to return to some day in the future.