Barb was on my bus from Bangkok to Siem Reap, Cambodia. She was a tall woman in her 70's who wore a black travel vest spiced up with a large yellow fabric flower and yellow cap to match. Later she told me she had 3 hats and 12 wigs - always wearing one. There's no need to worry about your hair.
When she traveled she left the collection at home, however, Her bag was impressively small (about 1/2 the size of mine). I imagine she had learned to travel light after visiting 140 countries since retirement, most of the time depending on public transportation and hostels. She had been headed to Iran September 11th.
This time, she was on her way to Cambodia as part of a larger trip to Burma (after the government started shooting monks in the street, a change of plans was going to take her to Laos or Vietnam). She tried to make Cambodia part of many of her trips after first coming in 1991. At that time Pol Pot still had power in some of the Northern areas of Cambodia and she and her husband paid $20/day U.S. for the privilege of not being shot while in the area around Angkor Wat. At that time she met a 13-year old boy named Barang who spoke English and French. He was busing tables at a restaurant and struggling to pay for school. His mother made only $12 a month and his father had been killed by the Khmer Rouge when he was an infant.
Barb and her husband were so taken with Barang that they offered to pay for his schooling on three conditions:
1) He emailed regularly to keep in touch
2) He sent them his grades and kept performing well
3) And if his mother agreed
They journeyed out to his village to ask his mother. She was, of course, overjoyed and their friendship began. Only later did Barb discover that they had crossed into Pol Pot's territory and the taxi driver, the mother or anyone else could have turned them in for $25,000 US a head. Instead they returned safe and began sending small amounts of money for schooling and necessities. When they sent too much, Barang always returned the change.
As Barang got older he had the grades to go to university, but not the funds. Barb and her husband talked it over and agreed to pay. Right before graduation Barang's mother died of TB and they became his closest "family." They wrote a letter of recommendation to his prospective bride and made the trip to Cambodia to give him away at the wedding. They were now on their way back to see Barang and his lovely wife (former Miss Cambodia).
On this trip, Barb's husband (age 87) had flown from Bangkok rather than taking the land crossing. But Barb had brought friends who were ripe to experience their style of "adventure travel" and she insisted they needed the overland experience - a 7-hour ride on a bumpy 165 km stretch of dirt road. Although ready to be off the bus, I believe her friends, a former corporate executive for Tiffany's and former insurer of Tiffany's, appreciated the experience.
It was with such grace and humility that Barb told her stories. She had a smile and a spirit that even the most hardened criminal would not be able to cheat in good conscience. I will consider myself lucky if someday I have even half the experiences and spirit as Barb. She truly was an inspiration.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Picture Worth a Thousand Words
Thought I'd test out including video in the blog with footage of the daily public jazzercise in Lamphini Park, Bangkok.
Each day around 5:30 pm, Thai gather in the park to do public jazzercise. I couldn't quite capture the hundreds of people in attendence as they were stretched out around a curved street, but this gives you a flavor. As I left, I came accross another fairly sizable group getting started around 6:15 pm. As I sat there I wondered why San Francisco (in all its weirdness) hasn't caught this yet.
Okay, guys...I'll work on this but Cambodian Internet is even slower than Thailand or China. It may be a while before video can grace my blog. Sorry.
Each day around 5:30 pm, Thai gather in the park to do public jazzercise. I couldn't quite capture the hundreds of people in attendence as they were stretched out around a curved street, but this gives you a flavor. As I left, I came accross another fairly sizable group getting started around 6:15 pm. As I sat there I wondered why San Francisco (in all its weirdness) hasn't caught this yet.
Okay, guys...I'll work on this but Cambodian Internet is even slower than Thailand or China. It may be a while before video can grace my blog. Sorry.
Tom Yam Khung
In salivating again today over the memory of the delicious Thai cuisine I had during my cooking class, I thought it might be fun to share one of my favorite recipies. You'll have to go to an Asian market to pick up a number of these ingredients, but at least in the San Francisco area they're never more than a few miles away...
Tom Yam Khung (Sour and Spicy Prawn Soup pictured bottom left)
INGREDIENTS
300 grams prawns, shelled and deveined
200 grams mushrooms, halved
2 lemon grass stems cut into short lengths (best if cut diagonally to expose more flavor)
5 slices galangal sliced into thin rounds for flavor - do not eat(relative of giner, but not - got to the market)
4 kafir lime leaves, destemed and torn (not just lime leaves, you should find these frozen a the Asian market)
3-4 hot chillies broken with a pestle (the small hot chillies about 1 inch long)
4 tbsp. lime juice
3-4 tbsp. fish sauce
2 coriander stems (cilantro), chopped coarsely
4 cups water
PREPARATION
1. Heat the water to boiling. Add the lemon grass, shalots, galangal and kaffir lime leaves. Let boil for a minute or two.
2. Add prawns, mushrooms and fish sauce. Let boil until shrimp cooked (not long).
3. Season to taste with more lime, chillies and chopped cilantro. Remove from heat and serve hot.
4. Enjoy!
Tom Yam Khung (Sour and Spicy Prawn Soup pictured bottom left)
INGREDIENTS
300 grams prawns, shelled and deveined
200 grams mushrooms, halved
2 lemon grass stems cut into short lengths (best if cut diagonally to expose more flavor)
5 slices galangal sliced into thin rounds for flavor - do not eat(relative of giner, but not - got to the market)
4 kafir lime leaves, destemed and torn (not just lime leaves, you should find these frozen a the Asian market)
3-4 hot chillies broken with a pestle (the small hot chillies about 1 inch long)
4 tbsp. lime juice
3-4 tbsp. fish sauce
2 coriander stems (cilantro), chopped coarsely
4 cups water
PREPARATION
1. Heat the water to boiling. Add the lemon grass, shalots, galangal and kaffir lime leaves. Let boil for a minute or two.
2. Add prawns, mushrooms and fish sauce. Let boil until shrimp cooked (not long).
3. Season to taste with more lime, chillies and chopped cilantro. Remove from heat and serve hot.
4. Enjoy!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Trading Hippies for Expats
I've found it fascinating to visit the expat haunts in the major economic hubs through Asia so far - LAN in Beijing, House of Blues & Jazz in Shanghai, Take Out Comedy in Hong Kong. It is a whole other culture from both the host country and the homeland.
Tonight I returned from a lovely 2-day Thai cooking course 40 minutes north of Bangkok in an area of quaint river canals (www.thaihouse.co.th - highly recommended for those visiting Bangkok). While the friends made were terrific and the food outstanding, to describe it at length would be a bit boring so I'll spare you and move straight to Sukhumvit, Bangkok's expat district.
Instead of returning to Banglamphu, Bangkok's drifter hippie party district, I decided I would be better off in a new location. I settled on the Hostel International Sukhumvit. After a nice cool shower (I'm sweating buckets here) I scanned the guidebook and set off for Soi 33, a street with many English-style pubs, to try and find the local expat rag (see what was going on) and watch the natives (or non-natives as they were). Upon finding the "Big Chili," Bangkok's rather conservative monthly English-language magazine targeted at foreigners, I ordered a beer and started reading...
One thing that really struck me was the "socialite" pages. Every local magazine has them, they are pictures from fundraising galas, snotty celebrations and the like. Bangkok's pictures, however, have a running theme: relatively unattractive white men and Thai women. I scanned through five pages of snapshots only to find 6 white women out of dozens of pictures. When I looked around I realized that a snapshot at that moment would reveal the same shocking scenario. I was the only white woman in the bar apart from a rather loose looking middle aged woman wearing leopard print and deep red lipstick to the pub.
After finishing the magazine I quickly left and ventured a stone's throw down the road only to find another bar filled with relatively unattractive white men and Thai women. I wouldn't have gone in, but it seemed that I had fortuitously stumbled across trivia night and was curious how well I might do in a foreign land (with questions geared toward expats, of course). The answer...not that well. My attention quickly turned back to this obvious and fairly creepy observation.
Thailand, and particularly Bangkok, is known for its sex trade (prostitutes). All of the hostels have big signs saying "No guests in rooms. Especially prostitutes." But what qualifies? There are women who you can pick-up a brothel for a few bucks who obviously fit the definition, but what about the Thai women who become the short term "girlfriends" of visiting tourists (or even longer term expats). They are EVERYWHERE (tourist sights, Banglamphu, Sukhumvit, the Southern beaches...everywhere). They may not explicitly be paid for their services, but are well fed, get new clothes (like the "He's my favorite" T-shirt I saw on the street) and maybe even a chance at striking gold and getting an invitation back to his home country. The whole thing makes me a bit queasy. I'm sure there is love in some of these matches, but I'm not entirely convinced that it is what the women trolling the bar are really looking for or that is what them men think they are getting when they strike up a conversation with the dolled up Thai bird with the fake boobs.
Tonight I returned from a lovely 2-day Thai cooking course 40 minutes north of Bangkok in an area of quaint river canals (www.thaihouse.co.th - highly recommended for those visiting Bangkok). While the friends made were terrific and the food outstanding, to describe it at length would be a bit boring so I'll spare you and move straight to Sukhumvit, Bangkok's expat district.
Instead of returning to Banglamphu, Bangkok's drifter hippie party district, I decided I would be better off in a new location. I settled on the Hostel International Sukhumvit. After a nice cool shower (I'm sweating buckets here) I scanned the guidebook and set off for Soi 33, a street with many English-style pubs, to try and find the local expat rag (see what was going on) and watch the natives (or non-natives as they were). Upon finding the "Big Chili," Bangkok's rather conservative monthly English-language magazine targeted at foreigners, I ordered a beer and started reading...
One thing that really struck me was the "socialite" pages. Every local magazine has them, they are pictures from fundraising galas, snotty celebrations and the like. Bangkok's pictures, however, have a running theme: relatively unattractive white men and Thai women. I scanned through five pages of snapshots only to find 6 white women out of dozens of pictures. When I looked around I realized that a snapshot at that moment would reveal the same shocking scenario. I was the only white woman in the bar apart from a rather loose looking middle aged woman wearing leopard print and deep red lipstick to the pub.
After finishing the magazine I quickly left and ventured a stone's throw down the road only to find another bar filled with relatively unattractive white men and Thai women. I wouldn't have gone in, but it seemed that I had fortuitously stumbled across trivia night and was curious how well I might do in a foreign land (with questions geared toward expats, of course). The answer...not that well. My attention quickly turned back to this obvious and fairly creepy observation.
Thailand, and particularly Bangkok, is known for its sex trade (prostitutes). All of the hostels have big signs saying "No guests in rooms. Especially prostitutes." But what qualifies? There are women who you can pick-up a brothel for a few bucks who obviously fit the definition, but what about the Thai women who become the short term "girlfriends" of visiting tourists (or even longer term expats). They are EVERYWHERE (tourist sights, Banglamphu, Sukhumvit, the Southern beaches...everywhere). They may not explicitly be paid for their services, but are well fed, get new clothes (like the "He's my favorite" T-shirt I saw on the street) and maybe even a chance at striking gold and getting an invitation back to his home country. The whole thing makes me a bit queasy. I'm sure there is love in some of these matches, but I'm not entirely convinced that it is what the women trolling the bar are really looking for or that is what them men think they are getting when they strike up a conversation with the dolled up Thai bird with the fake boobs.
The Perfect Stranger
Dave and I parted ways in Hong Kong - he back to work via a few days visiting friends in Japan and I to Bangkok. I hopped a taxi from the airport and made my way to Banglamphu an area over-run with wandering hippies and Australian and British frat boys. Luckily, one of the bars on the street showed movies every night as I wasn't in much of a mood to chat with anyone, but at the same time didn't want to hold up in my lonely room. So, I spent my first night watching what likely qualifies as Bruce Willis's worst hour, "Perfect Stranger" with Halle Berry. And yes, I've seen some of his other films and will stand by my assertion that it is among the least impressive of his unimpressive movies. However horrific, it did the trick of taking my mind of my emotional overload after saying goodbye to Dave and facing the world for the first time really on my own.
Luckily, the next night, after a day visiting 3 of Bangkok's famed temples, I ventured out open to socializing. Still over-run with hippies and frat boys, I was lucky enough to meet a friendly Australian man from Perth (non-frat boy) who had circled the world over the past 13 months and was now returning to Siagon (his point of origin) to wrap his adventure up in a nice tight symetrical package (also a Virgo).
The company would have probably been enough to help temper my nerves, but he offered so much more than friendship - tales of adventure, words of reassurance, practical advice on both general traveling and destinations of interest and, above all, a message from a higher power that while what one will not always get exactly what one wants (e.g. "Perfect Stranger"), the world has a funny way of helping us out (e.g. Greg, a once perfect stranger, now friend).
Luckily, the next night, after a day visiting 3 of Bangkok's famed temples, I ventured out open to socializing. Still over-run with hippies and frat boys, I was lucky enough to meet a friendly Australian man from Perth (non-frat boy) who had circled the world over the past 13 months and was now returning to Siagon (his point of origin) to wrap his adventure up in a nice tight symetrical package (also a Virgo).
The company would have probably been enough to help temper my nerves, but he offered so much more than friendship - tales of adventure, words of reassurance, practical advice on both general traveling and destinations of interest and, above all, a message from a higher power that while what one will not always get exactly what one wants (e.g. "Perfect Stranger"), the world has a funny way of helping us out (e.g. Greg, a once perfect stranger, now friend).
Monday, September 24, 2007
Reflections on China
China was an adventure and I enjoyed it thoroughly (especially spending time with Dave and catching up with my expat friend Walter in Beijing), but at times it felt like I was having the same adventure again and again - arrive in a big (pop. 6 million +) smoggy dirty city with crazy drivers, eat in generic (but delicious) homestyle hovels and try to avoid roads filled with the same kind of kitch one finds in Chinatowns accross the world.
It was interesting traveling with Dave and hearing about how places had changed (at least the ones he had visited before) and it seems that China is plagued by unbridled "progress." Major cities have 25 skyscrappers going up each day, tourist destinations are over-run with tour buses full of the Chinese who for the first time in their lives have the economic means to travel, etc. The most enjoyable times were when we visited the "untouched" China - Leaping Tiger Gorge, wandering off the beaten path into smaller neighborhoods and alleyways and even just looking out the window of the train or bus at the countryside. Apparently this is what many of our destinations had been like a mere 10 years earlier. I'd like to go back, but I think seeking out the remaining rural areas would be more rewarding the second time round -- perhaps the Silk Road to get a taste for the "Wild West" of China where a lack of plush hotels and smoothly paved roads keep the neon lights and masses at bay.
It was interesting traveling with Dave and hearing about how places had changed (at least the ones he had visited before) and it seems that China is plagued by unbridled "progress." Major cities have 25 skyscrappers going up each day, tourist destinations are over-run with tour buses full of the Chinese who for the first time in their lives have the economic means to travel, etc. The most enjoyable times were when we visited the "untouched" China - Leaping Tiger Gorge, wandering off the beaten path into smaller neighborhoods and alleyways and even just looking out the window of the train or bus at the countryside. Apparently this is what many of our destinations had been like a mere 10 years earlier. I'd like to go back, but I think seeking out the remaining rural areas would be more rewarding the second time round -- perhaps the Silk Road to get a taste for the "Wild West" of China where a lack of plush hotels and smoothly paved roads keep the neon lights and masses at bay.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Hong Kong Has Everything!
We put it to the ultimate test - Mexican food. Those who have traveled or lived abroad know that Mexican food has the greatest potential for catastrophe, but the nachos in Hong Kong were almost as good as home (we weren't quite confident enough to go for enchiladas or burritos). In addition to nachos, we've been very successful here in our shopping endeavors...tailored slacks and shirts for Dave, a new (more sturdy) day pack for me, new prescription sunglasses for Dave, books for the road, t-shirts, more travel shots for me (1/2 the price they would have been in the states)...and more!
The things that Hong Kong doesn't have, it's getting. We went to an open night comedy night. Granted, the MC and the majority of the performers were American, but actively recruiting among Hong Kong's English and Chinese-speaking funny people. SMOG too! You may be familiar with the brilliant colors of Hong Kong's evening skyline as seen from Victoria Peak. The peak is still there and the tourist still flock there in droves, but the day-glow created by the relatively new smog problem is more depressing than the view is spectacular (The quickly growing manufacturing mecca of Shenzen, across the Chinese border, is largely responsible for this influx of pollution).
Hong Kong also has fast(er) Internet services. There are a someof new pictures up at www.jheinzelman.smugmug.com, but keep checking back as some of the best (like Dave and I dressed up like terracotta warriors) are yet to come.
The things that Hong Kong doesn't have, it's getting. We went to an open night comedy night. Granted, the MC and the majority of the performers were American, but actively recruiting among Hong Kong's English and Chinese-speaking funny people. SMOG too! You may be familiar with the brilliant colors of Hong Kong's evening skyline as seen from Victoria Peak. The peak is still there and the tourist still flock there in droves, but the day-glow created by the relatively new smog problem is more depressing than the view is spectacular (The quickly growing manufacturing mecca of Shenzen, across the Chinese border, is largely responsible for this influx of pollution).
Hong Kong also has fast(er) Internet services. There are a someof new pictures up at www.jheinzelman.smugmug.com, but keep checking back as some of the best (like Dave and I dressed up like terracotta warriors) are yet to come.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Y2K Tibetan Monestaries
Zhongdian, Yunnan Province, China is home to one of the most important Tibetan monestaries outside of Tibet. Over 600 monks call it home and welcome visitors into their and sacred temples.
While much of it was how I would expect it based on documentaries, articles and paraphenalia floating around Free Tibet concerts, there were some surprises...
Monks sell curios inside the temples - No, not just insense and prayer beads, but also trinkets and necklaces (some in plastic wrapping labeled "fashion wear")
Monks use cell phones and carry them around in their robes - We saw one whip out his silver Motorola v700 right after leaving a prayer session
Monks take diet pills - Yes, that's right, diet pills. The monk who welcomed us into the main temple (shown above) communicated with us through our crude sign language. In addition to making us hold our hands to the fire, take pictures with him and tell him if we were married, he commented that Dave had some extra meat on his arms and offered him a variety of pills to remedy the situation. (He claimed to use himself through comparison to his arms)
The Things (Birthday) Memories Are Made Of
On the 13th of September we caught a bus from Dali to Qiaotou (the starting point of the Leaping Tiger Gorge trail) looking forward to escaping the throngs of Chinese and foreign tourists. At that, we were very successful.
It had rained a bit in Dali (5 hours south of Qiaotou) so we didn't know if we would be able to hike part of the fragile trail as hoped. At the very least, however, we had read that taxis ran to Walnut Grove (about 3/4 of the way through the gorge) and enjoy the scenery from a guesthouse there. The bus stopped and let us out at Qiaotou which at second glance (after the bus had pulled away) was "lacking in activity." The Chinese places were open so we were not stranded, but all of the establishments bearing English language signs reading things like "Kept luggage," "Free maps," "Hiking information," were closed. Large metal sliding doors covered their storefronts.
If we could only get to Jane's Guesthouse as recommended by the Lonely Planet. Surely they would be open and provide more information. We oriented ourselves with the map in our book and headed up the gorge access road where Jane's would be 1km down the paved road. Our (good) plan was foiled, however, when a police officer stopped us - the gorge was CLOSED!
Our options were few. The hour was getting late and we either needed to flag down a bus to Lijang or Zhongdian (both about 3 hrs away) or find one of the few open guesthouses in this desolate highway town. Then we remembered...
As we had gotten off the bus to men with a taxi had approached us. They could take us to the Naxi Family Guesthouse 5km up the gorge access road. We reapproached them and inquired further. It turned out that they could not only take us to the Naxi Family Guesthouse for 20 RMB (US$3), but could take us all the way to Chateau de Woody in Walnut Grove for only 130 RMB more. This seemed a bit much. We tried to bargain, but they insisted that the fee was fair and included a pay-off to the local police/"guardsman." We went for it.
We got in the back of the van. The tinted windows helped hide us from "the law." W were enthusiastic rebels livin' on the edge in our renegade taxi!
What we didn't quite realize was how "on the edge" we were to be living for the next 45 minutes of twisting cliff-hugging road until we passed our first boulder lying in the other "lane." The massive white rock measured about 4'x5' and provided our first hint of trepidation.
The boulder was soon followed by evidence of landslide after landslide - some bigger rocks and some fields of gravel where smooth asphalt once had been. Most slides had been cleaned up by work crews, but gave reason for concern and reminded us both of our mortality (although we dare not discuss this while still in motion). We focused on the views - breathtaking walls of rock, a lively river and spontaneous waterfalls connecting the two. We would have taken pictures had it not been for the tinted window and state of terror.
At last we arrived at Chateau de Woody - a picturesque guesthouse built into the side of the mountain and overlooking one of the most spectacular sights one sees in a lifetime.
At first we were the only guests, but two other parties soon arrived. We spent the evening eating, drinking, playing cards and soaking in the peaceful splendor which surrounded us.
It rained through the night into morning rendering us "stuck," while providing a most relaxing and grateful 28th birthday on the 14th.
It had rained a bit in Dali (5 hours south of Qiaotou) so we didn't know if we would be able to hike part of the fragile trail as hoped. At the very least, however, we had read that taxis ran to Walnut Grove (about 3/4 of the way through the gorge) and enjoy the scenery from a guesthouse there. The bus stopped and let us out at Qiaotou which at second glance (after the bus had pulled away) was "lacking in activity." The Chinese places were open so we were not stranded, but all of the establishments bearing English language signs reading things like "Kept luggage," "Free maps," "Hiking information," were closed. Large metal sliding doors covered their storefronts.
If we could only get to Jane's Guesthouse as recommended by the Lonely Planet. Surely they would be open and provide more information. We oriented ourselves with the map in our book and headed up the gorge access road where Jane's would be 1km down the paved road. Our (good) plan was foiled, however, when a police officer stopped us - the gorge was CLOSED!
Our options were few. The hour was getting late and we either needed to flag down a bus to Lijang or Zhongdian (both about 3 hrs away) or find one of the few open guesthouses in this desolate highway town. Then we remembered...
As we had gotten off the bus to men with a taxi had approached us. They could take us to the Naxi Family Guesthouse 5km up the gorge access road. We reapproached them and inquired further. It turned out that they could not only take us to the Naxi Family Guesthouse for 20 RMB (US$3), but could take us all the way to Chateau de Woody in Walnut Grove for only 130 RMB more. This seemed a bit much. We tried to bargain, but they insisted that the fee was fair and included a pay-off to the local police/"guardsman." We went for it.
We got in the back of the van. The tinted windows helped hide us from "the law." W were enthusiastic rebels livin' on the edge in our renegade taxi!
What we didn't quite realize was how "on the edge" we were to be living for the next 45 minutes of twisting cliff-hugging road until we passed our first boulder lying in the other "lane." The massive white rock measured about 4'x5' and provided our first hint of trepidation.
The boulder was soon followed by evidence of landslide after landslide - some bigger rocks and some fields of gravel where smooth asphalt once had been. Most slides had been cleaned up by work crews, but gave reason for concern and reminded us both of our mortality (although we dare not discuss this while still in motion). We focused on the views - breathtaking walls of rock, a lively river and spontaneous waterfalls connecting the two. We would have taken pictures had it not been for the tinted window and state of terror.
At last we arrived at Chateau de Woody - a picturesque guesthouse built into the side of the mountain and overlooking one of the most spectacular sights one sees in a lifetime.
At first we were the only guests, but two other parties soon arrived. We spent the evening eating, drinking, playing cards and soaking in the peaceful splendor which surrounded us.
It rained through the night into morning rendering us "stuck," while providing a most relaxing and grateful 28th birthday on the 14th.
The Things (Birthday) Memories Are Made Of Part II
Please Note: This is a Part II and reading them in order will greatly increase your reading enjoyment.
Heading out on the 15th we were confident that local intelligence was good. The rains had stopped mid-day on the 14th and the other parties had decided to go ahead then. Dave and I used our judgement and decided to heed the advice of our host. We waited through the day and enjoyed the tranquility of a mountain villa all to ourselves.
We grabbed our bags and hopped into the minibus that had been scheduled for us. A little confused, we wondered why "Woody" was taking us rather than a taxi driver, but thought he may have wanted a piece of that 150 RMB we were counting on for our return trip. It seemed reasonable.
Breathing easy I rolled down the window and without crippling terror in my way, I tried to translate this immense beauty into digital media (didn't really work, but you can be the judge once we get an Internet connection that can handle the load of pictures waiting for upload). The remnants of landslides seemed to be distant threats - evidence of one moment in time that was gone. Local intelligence was surely stronger than nature...or was it?
It soon became apparent why a taxi had not come to collect us as anticipated. The road was impassable due to a landslide. Trucks were parked on both sides. I was envisioning a few more days, possibly longer, at Chateau de Woody and hoped we'd get Dave to his flight in time. Then "Woody" instructed us to get out and took our bags out of the back. A group of locals carrying small packages soon descended out of a neighboring truck and started bounding across the rocks...and we were to follow.
The rocks seemed stable enough and "Woody" and the locals were patient with our less graceful style of crossing - tense, rock-clenching, breath-holding, nervous, cliff-hanging, slow and steady. Between my fear of unstable rocks and Dave's distaste for heights I don't know how we made it, but we did, left only with a tremendous memory and a small cut on my right pinkie finger from refusing to let go of a rock as the rest of me moved past.
Heading out on the 15th we were confident that local intelligence was good. The rains had stopped mid-day on the 14th and the other parties had decided to go ahead then. Dave and I used our judgement and decided to heed the advice of our host. We waited through the day and enjoyed the tranquility of a mountain villa all to ourselves.
We grabbed our bags and hopped into the minibus that had been scheduled for us. A little confused, we wondered why "Woody" was taking us rather than a taxi driver, but thought he may have wanted a piece of that 150 RMB we were counting on for our return trip. It seemed reasonable.
Breathing easy I rolled down the window and without crippling terror in my way, I tried to translate this immense beauty into digital media (didn't really work, but you can be the judge once we get an Internet connection that can handle the load of pictures waiting for upload). The remnants of landslides seemed to be distant threats - evidence of one moment in time that was gone. Local intelligence was surely stronger than nature...or was it?
It soon became apparent why a taxi had not come to collect us as anticipated. The road was impassable due to a landslide. Trucks were parked on both sides. I was envisioning a few more days, possibly longer, at Chateau de Woody and hoped we'd get Dave to his flight in time. Then "Woody" instructed us to get out and took our bags out of the back. A group of locals carrying small packages soon descended out of a neighboring truck and started bounding across the rocks...and we were to follow.The rocks seemed stable enough and "Woody" and the locals were patient with our less graceful style of crossing - tense, rock-clenching, breath-holding, nervous, cliff-hanging, slow and steady. Between my fear of unstable rocks and Dave's distaste for heights I don't know how we made it, but we did, left only with a tremendous memory and a small cut on my right pinkie finger from refusing to let go of a rock as the rest of me moved past.
Monday, September 10, 2007
The Internet is a DANGEROUS Thing...
Upon arriving in Beijing, I noticed that I could not access www.jessicaheinzelman.com -- it was blocked (or rather the blogspot address that it forwarded to was). The government has strict control over what is accessible and what is not. Perhaps the thought of access to blogs was too risky or blogspot had been used to launch a revolution in another county. In either case, it's on the list. (Luckily for all Chinese residents, they can access my blog via www.anonymouse.org, a remote server that allows the viewing of all sorts of contraband.)
Dave and I had been searching for days for an Internet cafe that had some sort of power behind their computers instead of just enough to juice up yahoo, gmail and other email programs. My camera's memory cards were filling up and the situation was getting desperate. We found our first one in Nanjing, but unfortunately did not have our passports on us. "Passports?" you ask. Why would we need passports to access the Internet?
Everyone needs to show ID before being assigned one of the multitude of stations. Most patrons are in here gaming - Halo-type fighting and strategy games - but with all sorts of content out there, one (government) can never be too careful.
In 2000 the government apparently shut down thousands of Internet cafes. Soon more informal stations began to pop up in salons, family businesses and other publicly accessible venues. The information super-highway would not be conquered so the answer was to reinstate the large-scale cafe format with strict rules and regulations and a tracking system -- Dave and I not only supplied our passport information to log on, but also had them scanned (including our Chinese visa page).
Long live China's Democracy! (Hope they're not watching)
Dave and I had been searching for days for an Internet cafe that had some sort of power behind their computers instead of just enough to juice up yahoo, gmail and other email programs. My camera's memory cards were filling up and the situation was getting desperate. We found our first one in Nanjing, but unfortunately did not have our passports on us. "Passports?" you ask. Why would we need passports to access the Internet?
Everyone needs to show ID before being assigned one of the multitude of stations. Most patrons are in here gaming - Halo-type fighting and strategy games - but with all sorts of content out there, one (government) can never be too careful.
In 2000 the government apparently shut down thousands of Internet cafes. Soon more informal stations began to pop up in salons, family businesses and other publicly accessible venues. The information super-highway would not be conquered so the answer was to reinstate the large-scale cafe format with strict rules and regulations and a tracking system -- Dave and I not only supplied our passport information to log on, but also had them scanned (including our Chinese visa page).
Long live China's Democracy! (Hope they're not watching)
Shanghai
Shanghai is brilliant! There is something about this city that feel like home...well, closer to it. There is an sense of class. People are still crazy drivers and crossing the street continues to be closely likened to playing Frogger on the original Atari 2600, but the museums are well lit and have minimal typos in their English language captions. Hell, they have English language captions.
The architecture is inspiring ranging from Art-Decco to Neon-chic. The streets are clean(er) and there just seems to be so much in the way of culture. In the short day and a half that we have been here we've eaten at T8 (one of the "Top 50" restaurants in the world according to Conde Nast) for less than $50 a head, visited the Chinese Communist Party Museum (where Mao and 12 other delegates met in 1919 (?) to set forward their "programme"), walked around the French Concession area, enjoyed jazz at a club owned by a famous Chinese TV star, wandered through amazing glass sculptures in the glass museum, paid a visit to the Shanghai Art Museum and Museum of Urban Planning (where they had a model of all of Shanghai and planning/zoning maps for the hot areas of town available through touchscreen technology), cruised the river and the Bund...and found an Internet cafe with technology and connection speeds strong enough to enable the uploading of pictures.
Great town.
Nanjing
We spent two interesting days in Nanjing where Dave had lived and taught English for a year in 1996-7. They weren't interesting because of the sights (we didn't visit any), but were more interesting because of the unique perspective Dave had on what 10 years had done to this city.
A brand new academic building sat on top of Dave's favorite go-to lunch spot, "Aunties." Trendy clothing boutiques lined the streets were hole-in-the-wall crap shops and street eateries had once been. The school where he taught was there, but had been reconfigured to open on to the main street rather than in an alley behind. There were new skyscrapers and landmarks making some streets unrecognizable. More cars, fewer bikes, more cars parked on the sidewalks. Western food restaurants were plentiful as well as coffee shops (still mostly frequented by Westerners and the hip youth).
These potential changes had been hinted at by our experience in other cities, but I don't think it was until we actually arrived in Nanjing that the extent to which the "New China" had affected his Nanjing.
A brand new academic building sat on top of Dave's favorite go-to lunch spot, "Aunties." Trendy clothing boutiques lined the streets were hole-in-the-wall crap shops and street eateries had once been. The school where he taught was there, but had been reconfigured to open on to the main street rather than in an alley behind. There were new skyscrapers and landmarks making some streets unrecognizable. More cars, fewer bikes, more cars parked on the sidewalks. Western food restaurants were plentiful as well as coffee shops (still mostly frequented by Westerners and the hip youth).
These potential changes had been hinted at by our experience in other cities, but I don't think it was until we actually arrived in Nanjing that the extent to which the "New China" had affected his Nanjing.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Tran No. 2
Pingyao to Xi'an: 12 hours in "hard bed compartment"
Dave and I prepared for our long journey by limiting our water and eating very little. Limiting/preventing trips to the bathroom were to be paramount to our enjoyment of this ride.
Note: Pingyao was wonderful, but the best way to describe is through the plethora of photographs we took. Provided we find an Internet connection that doesn't inch along, those will be posted soon.
We boarded the train around 8:30. Others had boarded at the train's origin so the crowds were few. This did, however, mean that the passengers had already staked their claims and gave us a little hassle over us taking the bottom and middle bunks (the ones we had paid for and had been assigned). In the end, our ticket prevailed and we settled in for the journey -- our bags stowed beneath us, our bladders and intestines empty and our iPods in our ears. The lights were soon turned off and everyone retired to their narrow sleeping quarters lining the train cabin partitions.
Under normal circumstances I am a SOUND sleeper. I have slept through fire alarms, fireworks displays, chase scenes, fights, etc. However, my above average sleeping ability was no match for Car 5, Row 10, Top Bunk. His super-hero strength snore was enough to keep me awake for a good portion of the night. It can be most accurately likened to the gutteral sound of a chainsaw starting up. To complicate my complete distraction from slumber, the sounds of 5-10-Top were complimented by a persistent mixture of smells including poop and cigarette smoke as well as the jolting motion of the train that threatened to throw me from the middle bunk at every late night station stop.
I was extatic to get off the train when morning came and even more grateful that the no food/no water scheme had worked and that persistent wafting smells from down the cabin were my closest contact with the unthinkable.
Dave and I prepared for our long journey by limiting our water and eating very little. Limiting/preventing trips to the bathroom were to be paramount to our enjoyment of this ride.
Note: Pingyao was wonderful, but the best way to describe is through the plethora of photographs we took. Provided we find an Internet connection that doesn't inch along, those will be posted soon.
We boarded the train around 8:30. Others had boarded at the train's origin so the crowds were few. This did, however, mean that the passengers had already staked their claims and gave us a little hassle over us taking the bottom and middle bunks (the ones we had paid for and had been assigned). In the end, our ticket prevailed and we settled in for the journey -- our bags stowed beneath us, our bladders and intestines empty and our iPods in our ears. The lights were soon turned off and everyone retired to their narrow sleeping quarters lining the train cabin partitions.
Under normal circumstances I am a SOUND sleeper. I have slept through fire alarms, fireworks displays, chase scenes, fights, etc. However, my above average sleeping ability was no match for Car 5, Row 10, Top Bunk. His super-hero strength snore was enough to keep me awake for a good portion of the night. It can be most accurately likened to the gutteral sound of a chainsaw starting up. To complicate my complete distraction from slumber, the sounds of 5-10-Top were complimented by a persistent mixture of smells including poop and cigarette smoke as well as the jolting motion of the train that threatened to throw me from the middle bunk at every late night station stop.
I was extatic to get off the train when morning came and even more grateful that the no food/no water scheme had worked and that persistent wafting smells from down the cabin were my closest contact with the unthinkable.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Train No. 1
Taiyuan to Pingyao: 2 hours in "hard seat compartment"
There are different classes on the train with three basic cars:
1) "Soft Sleeper" - High-end private cabin with bathroom. Cost = you might as well fly.
2) "Hard Sleeper" - Dorm beds throught the cabin, shared bathroom (nasty) and reserved for those who have paid/have a bed.
3) "Hard Seat" - Crowded stiff seat with shared bathroom (nastier yet) and hoards of people standing/sitting in the isles.
4) "Standing" - For those who can't pay to sit, this option allows travelers to stand for the journey and/or scavange seats as those with booked hard seats get off.
Our first train journey was from Taiyuan to Pingyao and all that was left were standing or hard seats. We got in the massive line in the waiting room and pushed our way forward through a sea of people who stared at us like we were aliens (unlike Beijing, those traveling 3rd or 4th class from Taiyuan seem to have been less familiar with round-eyes).
When we pushed aboard we waded through the smaller, yet more compact crowd on the train and settled into our seats in the midst of crowds smoking, eating, drinking, chatting. A small boy and his grandmother stood near us. As his 3 year old legs got cranky, he rode the rest of the way perched on top of a bag sitting between Dave's legs. He was a spunky young fellow always trying to get a grab at Dave's leg hair before a scolding came down from his grandmother.
Upon arriving in Pingyao, I was glad for the experience, but ready to pass on "hard seat" travel for anything more than a few hours.
There are different classes on the train with three basic cars:
1) "Soft Sleeper" - High-end private cabin with bathroom. Cost = you might as well fly.
2) "Hard Sleeper" - Dorm beds throught the cabin, shared bathroom (nasty) and reserved for those who have paid/have a bed.
3) "Hard Seat" - Crowded stiff seat with shared bathroom (nastier yet) and hoards of people standing/sitting in the isles.
4) "Standing" - For those who can't pay to sit, this option allows travelers to stand for the journey and/or scavange seats as those with booked hard seats get off.
Our first train journey was from Taiyuan to Pingyao and all that was left were standing or hard seats. We got in the massive line in the waiting room and pushed our way forward through a sea of people who stared at us like we were aliens (unlike Beijing, those traveling 3rd or 4th class from Taiyuan seem to have been less familiar with round-eyes).
When we pushed aboard we waded through the smaller, yet more compact crowd on the train and settled into our seats in the midst of crowds smoking, eating, drinking, chatting. A small boy and his grandmother stood near us. As his 3 year old legs got cranky, he rode the rest of the way perched on top of a bag sitting between Dave's legs. He was a spunky young fellow always trying to get a grab at Dave's leg hair before a scolding came down from his grandmother.
Upon arriving in Pingyao, I was glad for the experience, but ready to pass on "hard seat" travel for anything more than a few hours.
Reflections on Beijing...
We have left Beijing. It is a fascinating city - interesting and overwhelming. The one thing that struck me was the complete and total innundation of "Beijing 2008" (aka the Olympics). I can't wait to watch this chapter in China's history unfold. While Beijing has some luxuries, it also has many...idiosycracies that will be...challenging for the Western traveler (and athletes).
1. Water - No one drinks the water. Everything will need to be purified from the drinking water to the athletic ice. A test run with the Danish rowing team ending in the entire boat leaving with diharrea.
2. Pollution - I can't imagine many records will be broken when the athletes are inhaling smog as they race around Olympic Stadium. The government is trying to get all of the coal burning factories to shut down 3 months before the games to clear the air. I don't know what the liklihood of success is.
3. Language - Few people speak English. Volunteers are already out and about "practicing," but language skills are limited even at top restaurants and hotels.
4. Credit Cards - Credit what?
These are the biggies, but fairly substantial in the grand scheme of things. Dave also pointed out that Beijing infrastructure is going to be exceedingly difficult for the Paralympics (traditionally following the Games) participants to navigate.
1. Water - No one drinks the water. Everything will need to be purified from the drinking water to the athletic ice. A test run with the Danish rowing team ending in the entire boat leaving with diharrea.
2. Pollution - I can't imagine many records will be broken when the athletes are inhaling smog as they race around Olympic Stadium. The government is trying to get all of the coal burning factories to shut down 3 months before the games to clear the air. I don't know what the liklihood of success is.
3. Language - Few people speak English. Volunteers are already out and about "practicing," but language skills are limited even at top restaurants and hotels.
4. Credit Cards - Credit what?
These are the biggies, but fairly substantial in the grand scheme of things. Dave also pointed out that Beijing infrastructure is going to be exceedingly difficult for the Paralympics (traditionally following the Games) participants to navigate.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
What's for Dinner?
Multiple recommendations pointed Dave and I to the Stoneboat Cafe - a picturesque little cafe/bar on a park lake near all of the embassies in Beijing. When we got there, we were disappointed to find that the day we had chosen for our visit coincided with the public works departments maintenance and draining of the lake. Dozens of workers were in and around the now muddy puddle pulling out floundering fish and sticking them into a large vat.
They will likely them back after they refill the lake, we thought. Nope. Towards the end of the workday, the men started filling plastic bags with suffocating fish and taking them home. When the workers were gone, a crowd of people remained...just watching the puddle. Soon, one man charged head-on into the mud with a net and started hunting for the smaller relatives of the older fish that were now on their way home as dinner. With this one man leading the charge, all of the observers joined in. One after another they waded through the mud to the puddle in the center hunting for their next meal out of this drained city lake.
While our afternoon by the lake was not as picturesque as it might have been, we may have witnessed one of the most absurd variations from Western culture. While Americans may find treasure in unlikely places (i.e. the street, garbage cans, etc.) we rarely find dinner in public urban landscapes.
They will likely them back after they refill the lake, we thought. Nope. Towards the end of the workday, the men started filling plastic bags with suffocating fish and taking them home. When the workers were gone, a crowd of people remained...just watching the puddle. Soon, one man charged head-on into the mud with a net and started hunting for the smaller relatives of the older fish that were now on their way home as dinner. With this one man leading the charge, all of the observers joined in. One after another they waded through the mud to the puddle in the center hunting for their next meal out of this drained city lake.
While our afternoon by the lake was not as picturesque as it might have been, we may have witnessed one of the most absurd variations from Western culture. While Americans may find treasure in unlikely places (i.e. the street, garbage cans, etc.) we rarely find dinner in public urban landscapes.
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