Pool

One of the few constants available in Backpacker ghettos is the pool table. When I came to Vietnam I barely had a clue how to play, and much less of an idea for the absurdly variant rules for Americans, Brits, and everyone else in the world. Everyone is correct of course, and in an attempt at politeness, it's easier to just defer to whatever drunk person you're playing with.

In Kuala Lumpur I met a billiard-blogging backpacker on a trip around the world. A generous and friendly Frenchman with a bizarrely Northeast American accent. He also happens to know more about the game than anyone I've ever met. When we met up at the bar to play (under the caveat that I "am not very good unless I'm a little drunk" to which he replied "that means you suck") I asked him what rules we should use, I wanted to go by something official.

He quickly listed off a string of letters - acronyms for different associations, clubs, rulebooks, I don't know. At the end of a long night, I am happy to say that there was at least one game I didn't lose, against a veritable shark, no less.

It's a new addiction that's going to cost me a lot of quarters when I get back to the states. The nice thing here is none of the games cost any money.

Here's a link to Gabriel's blog: http://billiardtraveler.blogspot.com