Day 46 – November 2 – Lhasa

I awoke to eyes frozen shut. No, actually, they weren’t but they were damn close. I was freezing. It was awful. The room had no heat and was on an interior courtyard-like open space, so the cold outside air seeped into the room incessantly. I barely made it out of bed and up to the included breakfast. Note to self, bad breakfast. There was a warm soup that was more like dirty water with some strange vegetables in it that were not very appetizing. There was also a hard boiled egg, which I ate, some very doughy bread and dumplings. I ate about half the meal by the time I saw Emma and Lee walking toward me. They took a gander at my meal, maybe a bit apprehensively, and then made themselves a plate. We walked down to the lobby together to meet Cimba who would be taking us to the Jokhang Temple this morning. After about 30 minutes, he arrived to find us slightly perturbed. He just told us to file into the van and we would go start the days visits.

Jokhang Temple is the single most sacred site in Tibetan Buddhism. It was built in the 7th Century C.E. by King Songtsan Gampo and his two wives, one from Nepal and one from China, brought famous statues of Buddha as wedding gifts. It has been the center of pilgrimage to Lhasa for centuries, ever since a famous teacher named Master Atisha taught there in the 11th Century. It sits in the middle of the Barkhor Square, the main public space in the historic section of Lhasa, not nearly as intimidating or daunting as the Potala Palace just a short distance away. The area around the temple is punctuated by four large incense burners spewing copious amounts of thick smoke and ash into the air turning the scene into a surreal masterpiece, almost as if it were being painted before one’s eyes by a Renaissance sfumato master. The strong odor of the incense was not just the typical tobacco-like acrid smoke smell I have become accustomed to in the East, but an additional heavy butter smell permeated the smoke. It was strange to say the least. I don’t think I’ve actually smelled butter before.

Cimba walked us to the front of the temple. The mass of people was incredible. Cimba told us that all of these people were Tibetan pilgrims from areas outside Lhasa who complete an annual pilgrimage to the city and to Jokhang in particular. Many pilgrims were covered in dirt and donned facemasks while others sported Indian Jones-type hats. Older women typically carried prayer wheels, small drums with prayers written on them attached to wooden handles that can be rotated in circles, making a whirring sound as they passed. Some had been traveling for days or weeks to visit this site, especially on this day. Cimba explained to us how once a month Buddhists celebrate the ‘birthday’ of Buddha. I don’t think he had the right translation on that, but it definitely was a festival of some importance as there were scores more people than the previous day. Worshippers walked around the site once, clockwise, and then stood in line up to two hours to enter. They threw barley or butter or other offerings into the incense burners as they passed, resulting in tongues of fire sporadically leaping out of furnaces. Some pilgrims worshipped while accepting alms, throwing themselves prostrate on the ground in a maneuver I like to refer to as Tibetan calisthenics. They wore wooden blocks on their hands and knees, sometimes on their foreheads, as well. From a standing position one would clap the blocked hands three times: above the head, in front of the face, and at the heart. Then, he or she would crouch down, place the hands on the ground, and launch forward so that the body was completely prostrate against the ground with his or hands swept forward in long arcs. At the point of full extension, one taps the ground with the blocked hands and rises to the starting position. Apparently, some pilgrims do this all the way from their homes to Lhasa, taking up to six months. Seriously, what am I doing complaining about lack of public transport in Los Angeles, they haven’t even figured out walking in some parts of the world?

As we stood there watching the scene in front of us, the people started to gawk and smile at us. Back in China and Japan, no one really paid me any heed. Here, it was different. I’m not sure if that is due to the drop in tourism post China’s decision to crack down on Western visitors or a general lack of tourists in general. Children pointed and stared, it was really fun, until some Chinese soldiers interrupted the peaceful setting. There were two of them, and they started harassing one of the worshippers who was engaging in Tibetan calisthenics and seeking alms. They pushed him around, grabbed him and violently flung him into a crowd of people. Two soldiers continually pushed him around until he was on the ground, curled into the fetal position. The pilgrims in the crowd around the beaten man looked upset by the pushing and the ruckus, but not surprised by the harassment of a Tibetan. I asked Cimba what was going on, and he just shook his head, saying that this was “normal.” The man eventually was forced from Barkhor Square and from our vantage point.



After circling the Temple from the outside, always walking clockwise, we walked into the Temple. There was a separate line for tourists, so we didn’t have to wait for hours along with the pilgrims. The interior courtyard contains some amazing paintings showing great teachers through the ages with most incredibly bright and clear. Inside, a heavy scent, both dense and spicy, hung in the air like a blanket. There were candles everywhere, and one quickly realized that one of the methods of donation by pilgrims to the Temple was a gift of butter poured around the candles. This butter acted as wax to fuel the candles. This was one of the most powerful and distinct odors in the room. The interior of the structure was dominated by a series of large statues of Buddha wrapped in prayer flags or golden and silk robes and flanked by dark, heavy pieces of fabric, some with incredibly ornate patterns, stretching the height of the Temple from the ceiling to the ground. The statues were surrounded by a seating area for monks and a banister to keep tourists out of the most sacred areas. Pilgrims walked around this central space in a clockwise movement, ducking into any number of several small chapels dedicated to different teachers, monks or holy figures located on the perimeter. Most of the small chapels included statues and icons of various colors and sizes behind glass viewing panes where pilgrims would squeeze small denomination bills as alms. Handfuls of crumpled, dirty bills in tiny denominations poured from every crack and corner of the chapels. Money stuck to the ground, pasted to the floor by the butter which seemed to coat every square inch of the Temple. I walked through and marveled at the pilgrims who appeared as poor as any people I have seen in my life as they gingerly placed their monthly or yearly alms at the foot of their most revered statues. Looking up at the ceiling, shafts of light pierced the darkness of Temple in places, highlighting the monks’ sitting area and a large bronze statue of the Buddha. It was surreal.

We walked out of the Temple and had the opportunity to climb up to the roof. The view was quite stunning. The cold, clear air was a welcome respite from the buttery tinged atmosphere inside the Temple, and the few wisps of clouds allowed one to view the surrounding mountains and Potala Palace with the utmost clarity. At the top of the Temple, looking out to Barkhor Square below, is a famous piece of art consisting of two golden deer flanking a Dharma wheel. There were about 7 or 8 other tourists up on the roof, walking around and checking out the details of the beautiful carvings and sculptures decorating the area. The colors, red, blue, yellow, green and orange, were vibrant and created a severe difference to the hard brown mountains in the background. We spoke with some monks who were walking around up there, seemingly making their morning stroll in a more calm and quiet area away from the pilgrims. I asked if I could take a photo with one, and he acquiesced with a smile. I also bought a small souvenir at the tiny table of goods on the roof which was manned by two monks. I bought prayer beads, a series of dime sized wooden, wrinkly beads making a bracelet. I asked one of the monks to bless it, which he did. I just wanted to have a unique souvenir from this place that would have significance to me, and that is what this represents. I’m sure I could buy similar beads anywhere, but the fact that the money went directly to the monks and was purchased in a place like this makes them special to me.

It was about 1pm at this point, so Cimba led us to a small rooftop restaurant at the other end of Barkhor Square to meet the other three members of our group who had just arrived. This is where we met James and Tony, two middle-aged British chaps who were beginning a several month travel vacation, and Andre, a 25-year old Lithuanian guy on a two-week vacation. Tony was actually over at another table, apparently speaking with another group of tourists who he thought would be his new travel mates. But, no, we were the new guys he would have to deal with over the next week. Lucky him. As chill and relaxed as Emma and Lee are, Tony and James are quite the opposite: high strung and whiny. But, I should give them a chance. Andre is just silent. I mean, truly, silent. It took me forty minutes to figure out his name and where he was from since he just went off by himself to take photos and would not acknowledge any of us. Oh well. After a light lunch of some noodles, I was not very hungry, we sped off to see one of the monasteries where monks debate.

We arrived at the Sera Monastery, which sits at the base of imposing brown mountains, and immediately headed to a large courtyard where a group of about 75 to 100 monks were debating. The debates have become a significant tourist draw at the monastery. One monk stands among a group of 2 to 10 seated monks, discussing Buddhist theory. When he makes a particularly important point, or, alternatively, asks a question of those seated around him, he claps his hands and snaps a string of beads at them. They then respond to the point or answer the question. I really enjoyed this tableau before me. To me, the term ‘monk’ conjures images of quiet reflection and silent prayer, not loud, emotional discussions on the most important aspects of one’s religious traditions. I was highly entertained and moved by this scene. I love the idea that belief is a dialogue here, rather than a script to be memorized and regurgitated. Now, since I could not understand the ongoing Tibetan dialogue, I had to rely on the translations from Cimba, so some of this appreciation could be rooted in false assumptions, but I hope not. I really enjoyed my time here. We also walked through the interior of the adjoining temples, which were beautiful, filled with statues and tapestries.



Afterwards, the group split up, with Emma, Lee and I walking around the old city center looking for a jacket for Emma. Cimba has been wearing a heavy black coat with a traditional Tibetan pattern lining it. He said it was from Shigatse, the second city of Tibet, and is only worn by Tibetans. We searched for a couple hours before we found one, but it was quite expensive for $35. In Tibet, that is a lot of money. It also would be coming from a Chinese store, where we did not want to spend our money. We tried to negotiate, but that didn’t work out so well, so we decided to ask Cimba to help us drive down the price tomorrow. After, we returned to the hostel. There is a restaurant on the top floor where we sat to have beer and food. We just wanted to relax at this point. The sun was setting over the Potala in the distance, framing the red and white building in red, yellow, blue and purple. This is a very unique vista, with multi-colored prayer flags fluttering in the wind and a whole city embraced by rolling brown mountains on every side. This single largest structure of the Potala Palace is more impressive in its native setting than the Empire State Building in New York. I took my beer and my camera and climbed up a fire escape to the roof of the hostel, sitting in the freezing temperature and watching the sky grow from gold to red to blue. It was perfect, and I could not ask for anything more at this point. Life is damn good.

Day 45 – November 1 – Chengdu – Lhasa

I knew checking out was going to be equally difficult. The same two receptionists from last night sat at the front desk when I arrived this morning. We continued to have issues about my reservation and the fact that it was prepaid. After 45 minutes, I told them that I was leaving to catch my flight, and I would leave my name, phone number and email, and if they had any issues, contact me. I just decided to leave, and if they wanted to follow me, go for it. They didn’t.

I got to the airport and checked in. My Tibetan visa was checked no less than 3 times between the check in desk and the gate. It was weird. I don’t know, I just felt like I was doing something wrong or inappropriate after getting checked so many times. I definitely did not feel welcome. The main portals to enter into Tibet are Chengdu, via air or rail, Kunming, and Kathmandu, Nepal. The Chinese government has made a concerted effort to restrict access to the region in the face of increased international attention to the situation there. After massive protests during the 2008 Olympic Torch relay in both London and Paris, China decided to severely restrict the amount of permits available to Westerners. Even more audaciously, independent travel to the region has been cut off completely. The only way to attain a Tibet Travel Permit is through a Chinese government approved tour agency. I guess the political solution to a human rights controversy in China is to just not allow people to see the controversy unfold. I was hellbent on finding a Tibetan owned and operated company to use for my trip, but they are near impossible to find. I was able to find a company which only hired Tibetans, the least bad alternative. Although I am sure that the money really flows up to the Chinese company, I felt better that I was giving money directly Tibetans. Suffice to say, I got my travel permit in the end. I was not able to do any service in the region, which was my main interest, but at least I would be able to see the people, maybe talk to them and see what they had to say about their lives and situation.

The flight took off late, arrived late, but I was very happy to see my bag made it. I decided not to eat my meal consisting of a liquid-like rice dish accompanied by a small plastic bag filled with liquid and what appeared to be an old, pickled egg. Gross. It was black. It looked inedible, however my buddy, a Han Chinese man sitting next to me with a large, dark fedora, looked at it, saw that I was not going near it, and he picked it off my tray and chucked it into his mouth. I looked at him, with eyes wide with surprise and amusement. He saw I wasn’t upset and decided to strike up a conversation. However, this was a very one-sided conversation, only in Mandarin. Dude, I’d love to speak to you in Mandarin, but right now, I don’t speak any. Try me again in five years! He put his arm around my shoulders, poked me in the ribs, and pointed out the window for me to look at the mountains stretched out as far as the eyes could see. Unfortunately I was in an aisle seat, but I leaned over and took a gander at this incredible vista. The mountains just rolled on forever. It looked like the fingers of an old man, wrinkled and brown, grasped in a haphazard way. A valley here, a knuckle there. Incredible.

I walked out with my bag, hoping to find my guide without much trouble. Lucky me, he was waiting outside and assumed the one Westerner would be me. He was correct. I have been warned that trumpeting the name of guides and their political views on the situation and ethnic tensions in the region could have negative consequences for those guides back at home. So I’ll refer to our guide as Cimba (Cimba is the Tibetan word for “small,” just like our guide). Cimba is originally from Shigatse, the second largest city in Tibet. He leads me to the van which will be our ride for the next seven days across the country. It is pretty spacious at the moment, since only three of us are in the van. I met a really cool couple from the UK named Lee and Emma. Lee and Emma have been living on a narrow boat the past year, motoring along the canals of the UK. They are both musicians, with Lee playing the guitar and playing in a band and Emma playing cello in a trio and with Lee. I immediately think I’m going to like them. We started the drive from the airport to the city of Lhasa which was going to be 2 hours. Cimba told us we could stop at any point to take photos, perfect for shutterbugs like Lee and me. We did stop along the way, taking photos of a couple of rivers and the scenery. I’m really liking it here, already.

Cimba and our driver took us to our hostel in the heart of Lhasa. It was a strange place, with posters lining the walls of poor, dirty children looking rather disheartened. These were advertisements for the hostel. Really? Come stay at a place that puts these children on the edge of tears? No thank you. I’ll stay at the Four Points by Sheraton (a reference to be explained in another post). We decided to split up and explore the city for a while. We were to meet our other three traveling companions tomorrow since their flight had been cancelled. Today was a day for acclimating to the lack of oxygen at this altitude.

Now would be a good point to give some background on Lhasa. The city of roughly 1.1 million people, is the capital of the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR) in China. Lhasa sits at 11,450 feet. This is really high, particularly for a city so large. To put the population in context, Lhasa would be the 10th most populous US city, just after San Diego. It was the home of the Dalai Lama, the spiritual and temporal leader of Tibet before he fled to India in 1959 in the face of the invading Chinese. With the consolidation of power in the hands ethnic Chinese since the 1950s, the Tibetan population has dwindled while the Han Chinese population has grown considerably, exploding after the inauguration of the rail-line between Beijing and Lhasa. The government subsidizes Han emigration to Tibet. Lhasa contains the two most sacred places in Tibetan Buddhism: Jokhang temple and the Potala Palace. Those I will be seeing tomorrow.

Personally, I have never been higher than 12,000 feet, when I was in Peru. This is high, and cold. I am wearing most of my layers at this point: long underwear, jeans, long-sleeve shirt, t-shirt, vest, and jacket. I am a walking North Face ad. Only thing is, I could be buying all this nice knock-off North Face (it’s spelled Notrh Face here) for cheap, but I’ve already purchased my gear for a nice mark-up at REI. For the record, I am not subsidized by North Face or REI, although I do love their equipment and stores. I haven’t had any issues thus far, but I am going to take my time and enjoy this place. What other way to start with Tibet than to walk to the seat of Tibetan culture, the Potala Palace, the home of the Dalai Lama? I walked down the street, turned right, and walked in the direction that I thought the Potala Palace would be. All of the signs are in Mandarin and Tibetan, sparse with the English. Damn. Some of these streets remind me of a small Beijing: wide boulevards, monumental structures, all apparently without character or a sense of history. The old buildings had been demolished and new structures were built over the past decade. Shame. I arrived at a park near the square facing the Palace. This was a nice park, with several people sitting on benches, conspicuously staring at me. I walked to the expansive square in front of the Palace. This place was just like Tiananmen Square in Beijing, complete with a rather stark and brooding monument in the middle. I stood there with my camera, slowly turning on the spot to take in the scenery around me. The Palace is massive and sits on a hill like a sentry. It is half white and half red. The White Palace contains all the administrative and living quarters while the Red Palace contains only religious areas and shrines. Cimba said we would go there our third day since we would have an easier time climbing it after we had acclimated. I discovered later that the massive square in front of the Palace had been constructed in the past twenty years after razing local homes to make way for the square. Grand. The Palace is amazing, though.

I then wandered around the area for a while, ending up at a large statue of two yaks. The yak is very big here, like the Tibetan mascot. If they had football at highschools here, you would be sure to see the Lhasa High Golden Yaks taking on the South Lhasa Fighting Yaks. I took some photos while a family took some, too. Eventually, the daughter runs up to me, says something in a language I don’t understand, so I start to take her camera to take a picture of her family. No, no, I want a picture with you, she motions and giggles. Okay, got it. So I go up to her, put my sunglasses on her face, my arm around her and smile my face off. I have begun to figure out what they want. It is the same with Americans seeing a group of Japanese teenagers at Disneyland. We want to see them laugh uncontrollably, put up the peace sign, and then giggle until they begin to hyperventilate. You know, the usual stereotypes. So, I’ll give the people what they want. I smile a big toothy grin, put up the peace sign and just act my goofy, Californian way. They love it. Her dad took like eight pictures. I did upset her when I took my sunglasses back. Hey, not yours. Mine.

I stopped for lunch at a place near the Palace that did not look like a typical tourist haunt. No problem there. The waitress had no tourist menu, could not understand my words nor my hand gestures, and I finally had to order whatever (hopefully) chicken dish was pictured on the wall. She comes back and dumps a big bowl of orange-ish chicken in front of me. Okay, nothing like the mixed vegetable stirfry I was expecting, but batter-up. I was hungry. It was 4pm at this point, and all I had eaten thus far was a couple of bites of that rice soup stuff on AirChina. The nuclear-colored chicken did its job, and I went on my way. As luck would have it, I lost my way trying to get back to the hostel. I expected as much, but what I did not anticipate was the lack of English here. In most places with a significant tourist population, I have been able to get directions from a souvenir store or local convenience store. I was having massive issues here, though, attempting to find anyone who spoke enough English to give me directions. No fear, I’ll do what I do when I get too drunk to remember where I’m staying: walk in progressively larger concentric circles until I get to the right place. This allowed me to (i) see more of the city and (ii) refrain from walking up and down the same streets whereby giving the Chinese military police something to notice. Eventually, just before nightfall, I returned to the hostel. I had walked by it a couple of times before, but had mistaken it for a store since they were now selling socks and underwear from the lobby, and a man selling roasted chestnuts was blocking the door. Thanks, guys. Very helpful. I met up with Emma and Lee and we found Cimba. He asked us what we wanted to do for dinner, and we all agreed on something local and cheap. Again, if you know me at all, I’m much more interested in trying the local food, so I was glad to see I was on the same page as my new British friends. Cimba took us wandering through a couple of back allies to a local restaurant he liked. This was definitely a local Tibetan hang out. We sat down and he asked us if we wanted sweet tea or butter tea. Emma went for the sweet tea, Lee got a beer, and I manned up and attempted for the butter tea. We also had Cimba order dinner for us. When the drinks arrived, we toasted and tried our respective drinks. Emma furrowed her brow a bit, considering her opinion of the strange new beverage. She decided it was good. Lee enjoyed his slightly carbonated Lhasa Beer. It was light and refreshing. I nearly choked on my butter tea. After we all tried it, we decided the best comparison was to a mug of melted margarine. It was thick, much too sweet and much too heavy. These people, in this cold weather and high altitude, probably drink it for survival purposes, but I could not have more than 5 sips without needing to run my tough along a piece of sandpaper. I switched to a Lhasa Beer. Initially, I preferred not to drink at this altitude, but my stomach demanded something to dilute the butter tea. Dinner was good: boiled yak meat, spicy noodles and a fantastic potato dish. We were all very happy. The food was quite filling. During dinner, Cimba invited his friends to eat with us. There were seven of them, a couple and their baby, what appeared to be the couple’s sister, and three girls Cimba was hitting on hardcore. No, really, he just sat there staring them up and down. I was thoroughly amused, especially after he told us about his wife in Shigatse. Really, you are married? How lucky for the little lady! We took pictures, laughed and shared some beers around the table. It was all good fun. Cimba left us before we were finished, so we stuck around, making the baby alternatively laugh and cry (I scared the poor child, apparently). We left after a bit, walked back to the hotel, and returned to our ice-cold rooms. Seriously, like sleeping in an icebox. But it was a mattress, so I will limit the complaining. Tomorrow, sites!

Day 44 – October 31 – Hong Kong – Chengdu

My hotel sent a prostitute to my room. But I’ll get to that later.

I had a later flight today, so I was fortunate that I had the whole day to continue to explore Hong Kong with Palin and Todd. We had brunch across the street from my hotel at this great local place on the top floor of the shopping center, so it had a great view. Palin’s parents joined us, a fantastic treat. I had last seen them at our college graduation, when our other housemate, Emily, had her birthday dinner to coincide with graduation. Palin’s family and my family were seated at the same table, and we had the best time. My parents had never really spent a dedicated amount of time with my college friends, and they were absolutely floored with how impressive Palin is. It must be noted that most people are floored by her accomplishments, but my parents were gushing. Whether it was her thesis on music and jazz in wartime France or her various internships ranging from not for profit work to private sector banking, she has a wide variety of talents which parents just eat up. I think Palin’s parents were amused at how impressed my parents were of their daughter, and we all became fast friends. So when Palin asked if I wanted to join her parents for brunch, I of course said yes. Palin’s father works at the UN at the UN High Commission for Refugees and Palins’ mother was a diplomat for Thailand, so they have very interesting stories about their work in various countries. When I asked them their favorite country they’ve lived in, Japan, in general, and Tokyo, in particular, was their very easy answer. I would have to agree, I loved Japan! We had some great dim sum and dumplings, enjoyed discussing what Palin and I have done since graduation, and talked about our respective families. It was great. I was so appreciative to see Palin’s family.

After, Palin, Todd and I went to Stanley Beach, an area outside the CBD which has a large expat population. Although it was the end of October, the weather was absolutely perfect. Along the beach the temperature reached around 85 degrees. If I were in New York right now, I would be freezing, wearing many, many layers. Here I am, on the beach in Hong Kong, wearing shorts and a t-shirt. I’m very fortunate. Life is good. The area had a very laid-back vibe to it, similar to Manhattan Beach. This was not a cheap, bohemian area like a Venice Beach, but it did not feel stuffy or corporate, like I imagined an expat community could make a beach area feel. We walked along the waterfront, looking up at the large towers just at the base of the hillside. One large tower had a big hole in it. It was designed this way to allow the dragon to pass through. Yes, as an aspect of designing the building to have good fung shui, the building was designed so that in the middle of building, for about ten floors, there is nothing to block a dragon from passing through building on its way from the hillside to the ocean. I believe it is one thing to face a building or items in a household in a certain direction so that it is more welcoming, but a hole in the middle of a tower? Really? That is kind of random and completely unnecessary. We had lunch on the boardwalk, nachos and chips. It was good.

After lunch we returned to the CBD and had drinks at a rooftop bar. It was really cool. The whole tower used to be owned by one man who turned the top couple of floors into his own apartment and spot to entertain. It must have been a spectacular place back then. Now it was a very chic bar and restaurant. From the top we could see the HSBC tower and the Bank of China tower. I commented on my appreciation of the International Financial Center, and they laughed about how it had grown in stature since the Dark Knight movie. I thanked them for taking me everywhere and showing me around this awesome city. I have come to two conclusions about Hong Kong: (i) it is my favorite city in Asia I have seen and (ii) I would totally consider working in Hong Kong for a couple of years if the opportunity presented itself. As a city, it caters well to expats. It also accepts certain Western attitudes and efficiencies while maintaining a strong Asian identity. I was appreciative of how easy it was to get around and how much nature was accessible, even from the city center. It appears to have a balance which is difficult to find in most places. We toasted our enjoyable week, and I expressed my regret that I would not be remaining in Hong Kong for Halloween. Unlike every place outside the US I have lived in, Hong Kong actually celebrates Halloween, which I would assume is related to the significant expat population. People were dressed up last night and all day today. Decorations were everywhere. Ugh! I want to stay here! But, no, it is off to Chengdu I go.

I got to the airport via the airport express. In Hong Kong airport express station, I was able to check for my flight. I was even able to check my bag. It was great, so easy! The flight was uneventful, quick enough and all. However, when I got to Chengdu, I decided to jump in a cab and go directly to the hotel, since it was a late flight. Apparently, the hotel I chose on the Amex website is not very well known. I got there and the receptionist spoke no English. It was difficult. I’m going to keep it short, but suffice to say that I became progressively more aggravated as time wore on. After 90 minutes of going over what my confirmation code was, the type of room I had specified, and my credit card details, they still hadn’t found my reservation. They had two people working on it, but neither spoke English and, from what it looked like, neither of them had used a computer before. It was a comedy of errors, with the girl prodding the guy to do something, and the guy called up someone who obviously had no idea what to do. Later, a woman came in, and they asked her to translate. So she did, not that it really helped, because I had given them all the information I had. So, two hours and twenty five minutes after I arrived, three and a half hours after I landed, I was being walked to my room. The woman who was translating and the guy walked me to my room. At the room, she opened the door, and then followed me in, where she showed me the bathroom, lights, windows, tv, etc. The guy dropped off my bag and then left. I told the woman I was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed, so I said good night and started to walk her to the door. I didn’t care about how to work the tv, I just wanted to crash. Instead, she grabbed my arm and started to tell me how I was such a “Strong Man!” Then she sat on the bed. I freaked out, grabbed her hand, walked her to the door, and said goodbye, pushing her out the door. She stood there at the door, protesting and batting her eyelashes. No thanks, no hookers for me. Chengdu sucks. They have prostitutes double as translators; don’t they have enough people in this country to have non-street-walker translators? I might be the backpacker in a suit, but I don’t pay for lovin’ like some other suit wearing travelers. I want to leave.

Day 43 – October 30 – Hong Kong

Today was my day to go a bit out of the city and do another hike. This was going to be a bit different from the Dragon’s Leap trail because the destination included the Big Buddha, officially the Tian Tan Buddha, a massive bronze statue of Buddha situated in the hills of Hong Kong overlooking the airport. It was completed in 1993 and is adjacent to the Po Lin monastery, an important center of Buddhism in Hong Kong. I took the subway out to the end of the line which connects to a long gondola, arriving at the mountain just below the Big Buddha. This area has become a tourist trap of sorts, with a small, artificial village at the exit of the gondola. The village contains numerous fast food restaurants, souvenir shops and a 7-Eleven, not necessarily on the same cultural level as the Big Buddha. From here, I walked through the village and walked down the hill to the base of the Buddha. It sits on a large base with a staircase of about 75 steps up the summit and is flanked by several smaller statues. It is quite impressive. I walked around the Buddha, admiring the bronze work and accompanying statues, and then sat back, just below the base of the monument, to appreciate the calm and tranquil atmosphere. I love moments like this, where I just get to absorb what is unique and special about the places I visit. Here is a hilltop place of reflection, incredibly quiet and meditative, in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world. Tokyo had small, secret gardens in small alleys, Beijing had temples above a lake in the Summer Palace, and New York has rooftop terraces to watch the city light up before you. Finding places like this make me feel like I am part of the city.

I also visited the adjoining monastery, which had some exquisite granite carvings and paintings in vivid colors. It also had an urn outside the entrance for burning incense. But the incense being offered was not just the small sticks of incense used by college students to mask the smell of dirty laundry and trash, no, large bouquets of incense, wrapped in thick paper and tied with ribbon, were the choice of a large segment of worshipers. The incense burned like a torch, with think plumes of smoke rising up from the urns and creating a strong smell of wood and cinnamon. It was very interesting. People also kneeled and bowed, uttering prayers softly so that one needed to be directly adjacent in order to hear the words. I sat back for a while and admired the scene. After a little bit of reflection, I started the hike down the mountain to the subway station. It was a beautiful hike, through the greenery of the mountain until I reached a small road which led back to the subway. I really enjoyed getting some fresh air, out of the city-center. The hike took about 2 hours, and it was not difficult at all since it was all downhill.

After, I returned to the hotel to get ready for my night out. Palin had made a reservation at a private Thai kitchen on the Hong Kong side. I think this is a unique concept. Underground restaurants have been around in Hong Kong for a long time. These restaurants were traditionally unlicensed and located in a family’s kitchen and living room. Over the past decades they have become a little more open and some have become so successful that family have purchased separate units in buildings as their restaurants and kept the family’s living quarters separate. This one was a Thai restaurant Palin likes, and we had a private room with a large round table. She invited a lot of her friends, eventually filling the table to about 14 people. It was great. Palin, speaking Thai, ordered the food and ordered a feast. I mean, we had plate after plate of scrumptious spring rolls and noodles and satay. It was great. I ate way too much. Everyone brought a bottle, so we were drinking wine and cocktails, talking about living in Hong Kong as expats. I was able to give my view on the city as an outsider and as someone who was an expat in Europe for several years. The conversation, like the drinks, flowed copiously. We had a great time. It was fun to see Palin in her element, surrounded by fun, outgoing people.

After dinner we moved on to a couple of different bars and clubs. The first was pretty hilarious. The Western expat community segregates itself pretty completely from the rest of the social scene in the city, so the street we found ourselves on that evening was bursting with Brits and Americans, French and Germans. It was really fun. Also, the average age in the expat community is higher than, lets say, the crowd I usually find myself in when I’m out in New York. So we walk into these bars and you have the dance floor dominated by women in their 30s and 40s in cocktail attire, enjoying the pre-Halloween insanity. We had walked into a cougar den. A couple of vodka tonics later, we were all enjoying the bad Euro-pop and good American hip-hop. Palin introduced me to a couple of her friends who were going to be joining us for the night. She told them to ensure that I had fun, since she had to be up early the next day. So Palin and Todd took off while I continued to enjoy the Hong Kong nightlife. It was crazy. We followed up the Couger Den with an underground club with several interconnected rooms. Each room had a different dj and style of music, which is how I prefer it. If a terrible Robbie Williams song comes on in one room, you can quickly move to another room, while picking up another drink, which is playing something good, like Chris Brown or Wham! I hung out with Palin’s friends for a while, doing shots and making fools of ourselves. It was a great time.

I was really drunk when I got into the cab to go back to the Kowloon side, and I immediately put on my incredulous, I’m-a-Westerner-that-they-are-going-to-try-to-screw blinders. When we arrived at the hotel, the cab driver tried to charge me double the tunnel toll. I put him on notice, dude, I saw how much you paid. I looked at the sign on the toll booth, and the toll is written here on the side of the cab, so how stupid do you think I am, trying to charge me double the toll? I was irate. Not only that, but I had a fantastic air of righteous indignation. Well, turns out that I didn’t read the fine print below the posted tolls which said that if the cab driver takes a passenger from the Hong Kong to the Kowloon side after a certain hour, that driver cannot pick up a passenger on the Kowloon side but, instead, must return immediately to Hong Kong, so the return toll needs to be paid by the passenger. This law is supposed to prevent the buildup of cabs on one side of the harbor. Well, after about 5 minutes of arguing with the cabby, and bringing a cop over, I apologized, still kind of upset, but mostly just drunk, and paid the fare. I also over-tipped (Western-guilt). Time for bed.

Day 42 – October 29 – Hong Kong

Today was spent exploring the city of Hong Kong. Having been a city guy for my whole life, living in LA, New York, Rome, Paris and the bustling metropolis of Providence, Rhode Island, I’m not that interested in spending my time visiting foreign cities. I would much rather concentrate this trip on viewing cultural and natural sites across the world. However, Hong Kong is an interesting mix between cultures and traditions, having been a British colony, center of Asian commerce and outpost of Chinese democracy. Hong Kong has held a special place in my fascination: this is where East meets West. Since Palin is here and I am a bit tired of having to filter my water, I’ll spend a couple more days here than I normally would.

I first wandered around the Kowloon side, where my hotel is located. The Kowloon waterfront, facing the impressive Hong Kong skyline, includes the Chinese walk of fame. I will not capitalize “walk of fame” because it is pretty weak. Not that I have a high opinion of the actual Walk of Fame in Los Angles, no, that is also pretty awful, but at least it was original and located in the Entertainment capital of the world. This has the same set of stars with actor’s, director’s, singer’s and writer’s names engraved on them, hand prints and signatures, and statues of particularly famous actors. A couple of interesting observations: Jackie Chan has tiny feet and the actress in all those “Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon” movies has man hands. Yes, unfortunately, it’s true. People were lining up to take pictures with the Bruce Lee statue with most people making the normal smiling pose. Some, however, tried to make it look like they were fighting Lee, with one unfortunate poser falling over after trying to kick too high. I laughed. The view from this boardwalk across Victoria Harbor and towards Hong Kong was breathtaking. It was just amazing, with towers reaching skyward, including the International Financial Center, otherwise known as the Dark Knight Tower. This is the one which Batman flew into in order to kidnap the mob’s banker in the Dark Knight movie. The other name is the “Electric Razor” since the top makes it look like a Norelco razor.

I then took the subway to the Hong Kong side of the city. Interestingly, there is a difference between the people on the Hong Kong side and the Kowloon side. Once people get to the Kowloon side, they no longer have the British line system down. No, when the doors of the subway open, it is mayhem as people push out and push in to the cars at the same time. Damn it, I thought I just left Beijing! Why the hell can’t people figure out that this is just inefficient? There is plenty of room on the trains, up to this point, I haven’t taken a subway that was jam packed. On the Hong Kong side, everyone waits patiently for passengers to disembark before getting into the cars. What could possibly happen in the 2.5 minutes between the Hong Kong and Kowloon sides to cause urbanites like these to completely disregard years of public transport conditioning and move back into a barbarian-like state? Chemicals being pumped into the ventilation system? H1N-not-going-to-let-people-on? Seriously, if I really wanted to make a difference in the world, I would teach the population of Asia how to be more efficient and use a proper line system. Although, this might be like the Mideast Peace Process… a worthy goal but unattainable. In Hong Kong, I looked up at all the towers of the city. One of the most interesting is the HSBC building. HSBC stands for Hong Kong Shanghai Banking Corporation, and when this tower was being planned, the powers that be could not foresee whether Hong Kong or Shanghai would be the financial capital of Asia, so they had the HSBC headquarters designed to be transferable. This tower is designed to be completely moveable. It can be dismantled in Hong Kong and shipped to Shanghai for reconstruction. Not only is it tall, but it reaches very deep into the ground, as well, with almost as many subterranean floors as above-ground ones. Incredible. Another interesting building is the Bank of China building. It is the one crisscrossed diagonally by beams which are lit up at nights. It is a striking building, but, apparently, the fung shui is completely off. Fung shui is taken very seriously in China in general and Hong Kong in particular. The architect of the Bank of China, a Frenchman, supposedly designed the tower to not have good fung shui. He is a persona non grata in China, now.

As night fell, I joined some friends from Goldman at the Peak, a mountaintop lookout over the city. From the city center one rides a trolley car up the slope above the city. This trolley was comparable to Angel’s Flight in Los Angeles, just significantly longer. Back in the colonial era, this area of Hong Kong was off-limits to ethnic Chinese and only the British could live here. To this day, it is one of the most expensive areas of Hong Kong and many large banks continue to have large homes in the area, either as corporate retreats or expatriate housing. At the top is a gaudy glass building with a shopping center and restaurants. Burger King and McDonald’s feature prominently. There is also a wax museum (You will never see me in a wax museum, what’s the point? Hey, look, you could never get this close to this celebrity in real life, so we’ll make a life-size Barbie doll you can take pictures next to! Also, go ahead and do something funny and original, like put bunny ears on the Queen. Now, smile!) and souvenir shop on top of souvenir shop. We walked outside the building and stood at the outlook. The city lay out beneath my feet, bright and multi-colored. It was like a three-dimensional tetris game: bright colored towers in different shapes and sizes. It was weird being this high above the glittering towers, looking down on the city from where its colonial rulers once lived. It must have been an amazing feeling of superiority, even without the skyscrapers, to look down upon the populace. No wonder they had no issue making the local population second-class citizens. There was a 1.6 kilometer trail around the top of the Peak, which we walked, marveling at the view.

After, we had dinner at a pizza place. Being adventurous, I let my friends pick the pizza, and we ended up with a salmon pizza. I have to admit, not very good. I love salmon, I love pizza, but I don’t love them together. It’s kind of like Parisians. I like the French, I like Paris, but I don’t like them together. Keep some things separate, and we will get along a lot better. But it was fun since the pizza place was on the top floor of an 8-story building in the city center. 30 minutes before we were at the top, looking down, and now we were at the foot of the skyscrapers, looking up. It was fantastic. After a couple of beers, and a couple of slices of de-salmoned pizza, it was time for me to get back to the hotel. It was a really fun night.

Day 41 – October 28 – Hong Kong

Honestly, I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. It was so comfortable, the first nice bed I’ve slept in since South Korea. I was able to get my butt out of bed, however, and I got ready for my hike. Palin gave me a couple of ideas for trails that are located around the island, easily accessible via the subway system. I put on my smelly boots, grabbed my camera case, and left for the subway. This is a great subway. I bought an Octopus Card, which is like a debit card for all of Hong Kong. Its primary use was for discounted rides on the subway system, but acceptance of the card has spread to vending machines and some stores. No vending machines take coins anymore, instead, one puts the Octopus Card near the sensor (it can even be in a wallet or bag) and then selects the beverage of choice. Nice! I like this system.

I took the subway out to the end of the island, disembarked, and started my climb. To get to the trailhead, one must venture through a housing estate and then climb up through a cemetery. The cemeteries of Hong Kong are primarily located on hills since no large structures can be built into the sides of these steep mountains. As I walked up, I thought a lot about my mom. Why, you might ask? Because my mom loves cemeteries. I remember when we lived in Greenwich, Connecticut for a summer and my mom loved to drive by the old cemeteries around the town. LA is so young, we don’t see the old, crumbling or ornate graves that are present on the East Coast. This cemetery was very interesting since there were pictures of most of the dead on the actual tombstones. I think that is a little weird, but that’s how it is here. I was fortunate to see a funeral procession while I was up on that hillside. The participants were dressed in long white robes, some with pointed white hats which resembled Ku Klux Klan outfits, but these obviously have a different meaning. I watched as men carried the casket up the steep staircase and put it into a waiting grave. The procession was warmer and less of a somber affair compared to what we have in the US. It was very moving to watch.

I continued along the path and found, what I thought to be, the head of the Dragon’s Back trail. I eventually discovered that I was mistaken and this was the Dragon’s Leap trail. The views from up here were incredible. Although I could not see the central business district of Hong Kong and its incredible steel towers, I could see across to the Kowloon side and some fantastic views of the harbor and coastline. I thought it was fantastic. At the end of the trail was a small path that led to a lighthouse. I followed it and noticed a worn trail to the left of the end of the path. I decided to see what was down there. A rope was tied to a tree at the top of the trail and was helpful in climbing down the steep hillside. At the bottom I found a rocky outcrop where an older man was casting out a line, although I did not notice any fish in his bucket. This was great, the waves were crashing against the rocks, the cliffs rose vertically from the water, and a small fishing boat was anchored just off my location. I sat there on the rocks, enjoying the view and the strong morning sun. I lay there for about an hour, listening to the sound of the waves hitting the rocks, before packing up and scrambling up the hillside to the path. From there, I returned to the subway and back to the hotel. I needed to get ready for dinner with Palin!

I met Palin at Central station on the Hong Kong side. She looked beautiful! I hadn’t seen her since I visited her at Oxford in 2007, just before she graduated with her Masters (yeah, she is way smart). She came to visit me in Paris in 2006 around Christmas time, which had been a lot of fun, too. Palin was one of my three housemates senior year at Brown and we had met as Freshmen living on the same hallway. She was always a sweetheart and very seldom have I ever seen her without a big, bright smile. So seeing such a good friend with such a fantastic attitude after traveling solo for the past few weeks was fantastic. She took me to dim-sum. She ordered in Cantonese for me and we sat there and reminisced about old times and talked about life at the moment. She had worked at Citi in Hong Kong and then left to work at an NGO which focuses on anti-drug use in youths. She is dating a guy named Todd who happens to be from Los Angeles and works in real estate (yeah, I’ve rubbed off on her). After dim sum we got ice cream (yum) and went to one of her favorite bars. It was great, situated outside in a small alleyway with all manner of different chairs which appeared to be salvaged from the dump. It was a chill place that reminded me of our days in Providence at Captain Seaweed’s. We had a couple of beers before Todd arrived. He is a great guy, which is good, because Palin deserves a great guy. We tipped a couple back at this bar before heading to another which was on Hollywood Street. Yes, Hollywood Street. After a couple more, it was late and we split up, me heading back to Kowloon and them staying on the Hong Kong side. It was a great night.

Random Musings - On President Obama’s Influence Abroad

I lived in Italy from 2003-4, during President Bush’s first term and France from 2005-7, during his second term. The attitudes exhibited by Europeans toward Americans during those two periods were markedly different. I viewed it as a general assumption by foreigners that the first election was a fluke and the second election was an implicit endorsement by the American public of the Bush Administration’s policies. The American public was not painted with the same brush during the first four years, but we were all dismissed during the second. Since President Obama’s election, I have been in various European and Asian countries. The difference in attitudes and welcome is overwhelming.

I am not asking one to consider whether or not there is merit to foreign views of US elections. What is important is the amount and strength of goodwill by foreigners, particularly the foreign public, to our country and our country’s leadership. I sincerely appreciated how the European public viewed the American people and American leaders as distinct and separate entities, giving a tourist or expat consideration apart from one’s take on US government policy. I sometimes think that Americans paint foreigners with one broad brush, like the French during the Iraq War. (Caveat: There is little love lost between me and Parisians, but I like the French. However, I think I have standing to judge Parisians since I lived there for two years. Some may disagree, but I gave them a chance, which is different from the people in the States who dumped French products down drains during the ramp-up to the War. They were just driven by the media and propaganda.) That is unfair. I am traveling in a completely different world today. Everywhere I go, I get an observable bump in popularity due to President Obama’s recent election. I think this is for a single reason, a larger part of the world identifies with our leader now, making Americans as a whole more accessible.

In Cambodia, a tuk-tuk driver pointed to his arm and said, “Obama looks like me.” I never really thought the president had the same skin tone as Cambodians, but the man did, which makes the difference. President Obama has become an existential leader for the world. How many wars or conflicts have been fought between ethnic groups within or across a country’s boarders? In Cambodia, they recently ended over 30 years of civil war, part of which can be linked to US actions during the late 60s and early 70s. Whether it is strife between Hmong and Khmu ethnic groups, a Cambodian can look to the US, the most powerful nation in the world, and see that a populace, which fought a dirty, bloody civil rights battle in most of the population’s lifetime, will elect a leader based on ideas rather than ethnic identities. The effect has been tangible. I am reaping the benefits.

Foreign views on American government are not wrong or right, they just exist, and America operates within this international arena. This is not useful for purposes like winning the Olympic Games for Chicago (I believe that Rio was completely the right choice). Some might like to think of US interests as isolated of foreign public opinion, but I disagree. Sanctions on Iran need to be supported by the whole UN Security Council. If a government’s electorate views the US favorably, then it is at the government’s peril to work against the US. During the Iraq War, foreign governments could play to their populations hatred of US policy by scoring political points at the UN or at home. This does not help us, public opinion matters around the world because it creates the atmosphere in which policy becomes possible. It is said that politics is the art of the possible. Much more is possible on an international stage when US policy is presented by a favorable face. And the US is reaping tangible rewards with troop commitments by various NATO and non-NATO countries for Afghanistan.