Backpacker in a Suit

Day 46 – November 2 – Lhasa

2010-01-15T14:17:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-07T12:00:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-09T06:16:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-09T06:12:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-05T09:29:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-05T09:23:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-05T09:21:00.000-08:00

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.

Day 40 – October 27 – Beijing – Hong Kong

2009-12-02T18:30:00.000-08:00

On to the airport, again. I didn’t want to be all disgusting after walking 45 minutes to the subway, transferring once and then getting on the airport train, so I just took a cab. Big mistake. First of all, the traffic is horrible, so it was stop-and-go the entire way. It would have been way faster with the train. Also, the guy tried to rip me off. He tried to charge me double what the meter read. That was stupid, are you kidding me? No way, you’ll pick up another fare in a couple of minutes, returning to the city, and I’ll be on my way. We yelled at each other, and when he saw I was about to just walk into the terminal, he relented, asking for the fare on the meter plus the toll (I have learned to ALWAYS look at what the toll booths say and see how much cash the driver gives the operator, good tip.), which I decided was fair.

The flight to Hong Kong was uneventful. I enjoyed AirChina, especially when leaving from the nice, big airport of Beijing. It had none of the craziness of Shanghai. I arrived in Hong Kong in the late afternoon, and, once I picked up my bag, I walked to the airport express to Kowloon. My hotel is located on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong, which is supposed to be the less desirable part. I, however, really liked it because the Kowloon waterfront looks directly out onto Victoria Harbor and the massive towers of Hong Kong. At Kowloon station I switched to a free shuttle bus to my hotel, the Mira Hotel. I really liked my hotel. It had just reopened after an extensive renovation project, so my rate was actually great. The hotel used to be in a tired old style, but this renovation pushed it towards a modern-style. Usually, I feel the uber-modern hotels are just trying too hard and miss the mark. This place was perfect. The lobby was large, open and inviting. My check-in process was quick and efficient. The guest floor elevator lobbies had reflective ceilings, primarily to make it feel like the ceiling wasn’t so low, so I was a bit apprehensive that my room was going to have a very low ceiling. It didn’t. Instead, the room was spacious, well laid-out, and perfectly appointed. There was a large flat-screen tv attached to a computer with Blu-Ray. Everything functioned through the same remote, including the computer. I also found a Bose iPod docking station which played music in the room and also streamed it to the bathroom. This was all great. The rain shower was also great. While there was lots of technology and accoutrement, there was nothing that was just frivolous. In London, I stayed at the super-modern St. Martin’s Lane a couple of times, which was awful. The mood changing lighting and tiny bathroom were just horrible. I don’t want weird lights and touch sensitive toilets, I just want a room that functions and is clean. The Mira was awesome.

I walked around tonight since I got in a little late. I would see Palin tomorrow. She set me up with some cool hikes to do around Hong Kong tomorrow and then I would see her for dinner and drinks. It all sounded perfect. So tonight, I walked along the Kowloon waterfront, admiring the view to Hong Kong, and stopped into some random electronic stores to see what buying stuff in Hong Kong would be like. I knew that there was just so much stuff in Hong Kong, as everyone told me, you can go ahead and bargain in the stores. Seriously, at a certain point, I just want there to be a price tag, and I just want to pay that price. There is something to be said for going to a bazaar, haggling and finding something rare, but when I go and buy a flash drive, I know it is worth $35. Don’t say $50 and have me bring the price down, I just have no patience for that. So I bought an additional hard drive since my computer is running out of space with all of these photos. I walked through Kowloon Park and made plans for tomorrow. It was an easy, quiet day, but it was helpful to acclimate myself to the city and get ready for some fun the following day!

Day 39 – October 26 – Beijing

2009-12-02T18:12:00.000-08:00

This morning, I took a less water-intensive shower in an attempt not to flood my room. I was successful. I got my things together and walked the short distance to the Forbidden City. This was the home of the Emperors and their place of work during the later years of several dynasties. The first thing one notices on entering is the sheer mass of the place. It is enormous. Once again, not on a human scale. There were gardens, fountains, petrified trees with poetry inscribed on them and throne room after throne room. The whole place is made of wood, so it had burned downed numerous times before. They had very rudimentary lightening rods installed on all the roofs of the city, but that hadn’t stopped several massive fires from gutting the place. The city is entirely painted in red, and it must be repainted constantly, because the color is so vibrant and shiny, there is no way that it could be this consistent without constant care and upkeep. I wandered around with the aid of one of those audio guides. I’ve really had it at this point with guides who are pushy, cannot speak English well, and are not knowledgeable about their subject. I have had one spectacular tour guide in my life, and that is Catherine Cartwright. She used to be an assistant in London for GS, but attained her tour license in London this year. We were fortunate enough to take her tour when Katie Reyero, her husband Jay, Robin, Heather and I were all in London prior to the U2 concert in Barcelona this July (I know, rough life). She showed us around the city, answered all of our questions (even the inane, silly ones), and was, without a doubt in my mind, the most knowledgeable person about a city I had ever met. So, if you are in London, want a good guide, look up Catherine, she’ll show you around! (www.londonundone.net). So, I had no interest in another guide with no idea about the subject at hand, so the audio guide would have to do. It was helpful, giving me background on the lightening rods and areas of the city which were open to the Emperor’s court, only, and those areas open to audiences. The whole city runs along a primary axis which is denoted by marble. This was so that when the Emperor walked through the city, or more accurately carried through the city, he would only set foot on marble or be carried over marble. Good for him.

Outside the Forbidden City is Tiananmen Square, site of the democratic protest massacre in 1989. On the walls of the Forbidden City looking at Tiananmen Square is the large portrait of Mao Zedong. Locals venerated it pretty openly. The line to take a picture in front of it was way too long for me to even consider waiting. What I found interesting was the fairly obvious group of plain clothed police officers or security marshals who were staring people down intensely. They looked young, and I wondered if some of them were just local youths who were very loyal to the Party and the State and took it upon themselves to maintain order in this area. I walked through Tiananmen Square, having my bags searched and x-rayed prior to entering. There were still many signs, posters, flowers and other remnants of the 60th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China. A long digital screen projected a video over and over, exclaiming the virtues of “Glorious China.” I have to admit, the country is pretty spectacular as I have seen it thus far, but they have a long way to go. Maybe they should spend some of that money they’ve been using to buy US treasuries and spend it on updating the decrepit sewer system… wait, no, please keep buying US treasuries, we need it.

I hopped on the subway, which is fantastic, and made my way to the Summer Palace. I was debating whether or not to see this place, and I am so glad I did. It is easily my favorite place in Beijing. The Summer Palace was built in the later dynasties as a residence for the Emperors. It is a bit outside the city center, but a new subway line goes directly there, score! From the front entrance, one walks past a small river with a few stores and houses around it. This tiny village was created to house servants and people who catered to the Summer Palace. It was quite idyllic, small and well kept. There were a series of stairs which led one up to a temple. This part of the palace was built in the Tibetan Buddhist style to remind the Emperor of his connection to Tibet. Since I will be going there in a couple of days, I’ll have the opportunity to see if it does resemble a Tibetan monastery. I walked across some of the rocks at the top, some of which had tunnels carved through them to connect different parts of the palace. Once I made it over the summit, I was treated to an absolutely spectacular view. There is a large temple, with about four tiers. It is surrounded by trees in different stages of autumn colors and looks down upon a large lake with the city of Beijing in the distance. The vista is absolutely magnificent. There was a sign to keep off the rocks, but hell, this was too beautiful of a sight not to take some good photos. So I jumped up on some rocks and took way too many photos. I was amazed that the sky was blue for the first time since I had been in Beijing, further contrasting spectacularly with the red and green temple. I just sat there for about 45 minutes and looked out at the view. I loved it. I started climbing down the stairs to the different levels of the Palace. There were a couple of brightly colored tea houses and walkways, giving the whole scene a storybook feel. The bright red, green and yellow pathways and houses each had intricate detail in the woodwork and painting. Smaller temples were propped up on rock outcroppings, looking over the water. Once at the bottom, I walked along the lakefront, surveying the view from below. It was equally magnificent. I was able to walk up from the bottom to the temple which I had seen from above. This was a temple designed and created by the Empress. Only she was allowed to use it. The were winding staircases to the top, with several huffing and puffing tourists struggling to get to the top. But once at the top, the view was, again, surreal.

I walked down, enjoying the views from different levels, and walked along the lake again. There was a procession of some older people dressed in traditional clothing, chanting something. It was very nice and calming. I walked to the other side of the lake where a bridge lined with over 40 lion statues connected to a small island. This island was calm and quiet, except for an occasional exclamation from children flying a kite near the bridge. It was great. I guess I could compare this to Central Park in New York. One can escape the craziness of the city in only a few places, with Central Park being one of them. It is a respite of green and calm in a city of grey and insanity. Similar is the Summer Palace in Beijing. Although it is not as central as the Park in New York, it really is a peaceful retreat in a city of hustle and bustle. If I lived here, I would definitely try to live near it or at least go jogging around the lake once in a while. It just made me so much happier with where I was.

As the sun set, I got back on the subway and headed for the Olympic Green. The 2008 Olympics still hold a lot of pride in the people of Beijing, and it is easy to see why. The Olympic Green was spectacular. A main road runs down the center with the Olympic Stadium, or Bird’s Nest (designed by Herzog and de Mueron), on one side and the Aquatic Center, or Water Cube, on the other. Both are spectacularly lit at night, making my decision to come here in the evening the correct one. There is also the Olympic Tower, a weird tripod of a building with eight colored triangles in the middle. It changes colors and lights up in different orders… I don’t know, kind of kitschy without the cool factor. Other than that, one can see how much work went into this site and how much of a show they wanted to put on for the world. There is an Olympic subway line that runs along the axis of the site which replays footage of the Opening and Closing Ceremonies and the best wins of the Chinese. The whole area is incredible, and it makes me think that the Olympics should be given to cities which have something to prove. The Olympics help development, as is clear here, and I would rather see the international games aid development in Rio rather than Chicago. London should be an interesting case in 2012. I don’t know how they can possibly do better than Beijing, which had a centralized economy and government behind every move of the Beijing games. Good luck!

This is my last night in Beijing, and while it was an interesting visit, I am excited to go to Hong Kong. I cannot wait to see my friend Palin and check out a real, functioning city!

Day 38 – October 25 – Beijing

2009-12-02T17:48:00.000-08:00

I was relieved to find out in the morning that my buddy from the night before had confirmed my tour to the Great Wall of China for this morning. He had called the bus company last night during our excursion to the bar, but, to be frank, I had no idea if he was just speaking into a cell phone which was turned off. So I was going to be picked up to do a tour of the Great Wall. Awesome. It was an early morning, dragging myself out of bed at 6:30 to get on the bus at 7:00am. I don’t think I described the bathroom of my room earlier. Supposedly I had been “upgraded” to a traditional Chinese room. This meant that my bathroom did not utilize more recent improvements like caulk or sealant. No, instead when I took a shower, water was everywhere, creating a small pool on the stone floor. Yeah, slipping on the floor was pretty easy, and I almost cracked my head open on the wall. Safety regulations have not been introduced in China, not at all. The water spilled out into the main room, which I had to mop up with my comforter. Hopefully there is housekeeping, and hopefully they don’t freak out when they see a small flood in my room.

I got on the bus when it arrived at the hotel. In total, we had 10 tourists (2 Brazilians, 2 Americans, 1 Russian, 2 Indians, 2 Singaporeans and myself). We had a local Chinese girl as our guide. Like most Chinese in the tourism industry, our guide had a Chinese name (Sunflower) and her chosen English name, Barbara. She said she liked it from US television shows. Barbara spoke in English to all of us, which was a slight issue, as the Russian girl spoke little to no English. I attempted to speak to her in French or Italian, but no, she only spoke Russian. This made things slightly difficult in the van. The first stop was the Tomb of the Ming Emperors. This stop was unexpected to me. When I spoke with my buddy the night before, I only expressed an interest in visiting the Great Wall, not any additional sites. I guess he was just selling a product and getting his cut, so I had the opportunity to see the Tomb, also. First off, I was not very impressed. The site contained numerous tombs which included both above ground and underground components. Similar to the ancient Egyptian tombs of the pharaohs, large, elaborate tombs were built on the surface to conceal the actual burial crypts which were buried deep beneath. It was interesting to see the furnishings and pottery sealed with the emperor’s crypt. There were a series of emperors from the Ming Dynasty who situated their tombs in this area, some with larger ones while others died young and had little more than a marble crypt. We walked down about 350 steps to get down to the most famous tomb, walked around for about 30 minutes, and then returned to the surface. Interesting, but I am not that excited about tombs. You died, great, everyone does. Having a deeper grave doesn’t make you much cooler. Pile a massive pyramid on top or have your surviving lover build you a mausoleum like the Taj Mahal, now that’s impressive.

After the Tomb we had lunch at a Chinese government licensed jade factory. Yup, total scam. We walked around, getting lecture on how the true great piece of jade is made from a mineral called jadeite, which is very rare and very hard. They typically are very uniform in color, compared to other types of jade which will have veins or spots of white. I actually think that makes it look cool, but what do I know? Most people in our group bought something from this place, and Barbara was doing all she could to push us towards purchasing items. Lunch was decent, rice, sweet and sour soup, spring rolls, noodles and citrus chicken. The best part was that we sat at a large round table with a lazy susan in the middle and serve the food family style. Some of these people really hadn’t been raised in a family style tradition. Food was everywhere, getting spilled left and right. Soups were sloshing over the sides of bowls and tea was a disaster. After we all cleaned up, we reboarded the bus for the Great Wall.

There are several different sections of the Great Wall which are open to tourists. The most famous is the Badaling section of the Wall which is closest to Beijing and, therefore, sees the most tourists. When world leaders are pictured on the Wall, this is the section they visit. It has been completely restored but is crowded with tourists. On the other end of the spectrum is the Jinshanling section of the Wall which has not been restored. One can walk 10 kilometers between the beginning and end, usually without passing too many other tourists. It is much farther from Beijing than Badaling, about a 3-4 hour drive. There are parts where the Wall is crumbling and weeds are growing along the path. This is the part that I wanted to visit, but the guy from the night before said it was closed this time of year due to inclement weather and structural safety issues. I should have known that was BS from the get go, there are no safety issues in China. Instead, I went to the Mutianyu section. It is a happy medium between the Badaling and Jinshanling sections. Most of it is restored, but one can see the original parts of the Wall at the ends of the walk. At the base of the Wall is a small tourist street where one can buy food, ice cream, hats, t-shirts, flags… really anything. I bought one of those big furry Mongolian hats which I thought was funny. When my parents went to China in the 90s, they brought these hats for my brother and me. Just another happy memory. To get to the Wall one can do a long walk up the hill, about 45 minutes, or take the chair lift, which is included in the ticket price. All of us chose to do the chair lift because we would rather spend the time walking up the Wall rather than walking up to the Wall. Before getting on the lift, Barbara asked me to walk with the Russian girl (we’ll call her Ruski from now on) and make sure she gets back to the bus when our two and a half hours on the Wall expire. Sure, no problem, Barbara, I’ll do your job for you. At the Wall, one can walk left or right. To the left is a long, winding path which leads down the most restored section of the Wall. To the right is a dramatic rise and fall of the Wall which ends with the Wall splitting into two unrestored sections. Ruski and I decided to go right. Well, to be honest, I wanted to go right and I dragged her behind me. The reason I wanted to go right was the smaller number of visible tourists. Since this section included some steep climbs, people with bad knees would not be able to do the walk. We hiked up and down, taking picture after picture along the way. The Wall is incredible. It winds along the crest of the mountain like a snake slithering through the grass. Towers along the way punctuate the Wall; each designed slightly differently to compensate for the changes in topography along the route. Some had staircases or ladders leading up to lookout points on top of the towers while others just had thin windows large enough to allow archers to shoot out at approaching Mongolians. It was quite a sight. We climbed all the way to the end of this section of the Wall, after a very steep set of stairs which were deteriorating by the day. Ruski was not having much of this, she wasn’t a fan of the stairmaster. At the end, we walked past the Do Not Enter sign to see the crumbling mass of the last tower. It was magnificent from this vantage. I was standing on nothing more than a pile of rubble, crumbling after hundreds of years of dereliction. I could picture the Chinese soldiers patrolling the Wall as cavalry from Mongolia raced towards Chinese land. The Great Wall is thousands of miles long and consistent in its strength and size. While some parts might be lower or thinner, no portion is by any means small. The Ruski was yelling at me in Russian, probably something to the extent of “Hey, this area is off limits and I want to go back, stupid Capitalist!” I took some more photos, enjoying the changing colors of the foliage which created an beautiful backdrop for the Wall. I think I picked the perfect time to visit this part of the world. The changing colors of the leaves added another dimension to all the views and the creeping cold kept away the hordes of tourists. From this extreme end of the Wall, there were very few tourists with us.

We walked back to the top of the chair lift, but decided we had about ten or fifteen more minutes to visit, so we did. We walked a bit farther and enjoyed the view from the other side. During the Culture Wars, a large sign, similar to the Hollywood sign in LA, was erected near this part of the Wall which said “Stay Faithful to Chairman Mao.” So, that is in the backdrop of most of my pictures. Wonderful. We wandered around for as long as I could before the Ruski really started to freak out. So we left. There were two options on the way down: chair lift or toboggan. Ruski decided to take the chair lift while I took the toboggan. Seriously, how often are you at the top of the Great Wall of China and have the opportunity to take a toboggan down to the base? Not often at all. So I did the ride. There is a long silver track which ran down the side of the hill and the actual toboggans were hinged in the middle, so if one pushed down on the front handle, one’s butt would lift up, disengaging the brake. If one didn’t push down, the hinged middle would drop, applying a brake. I flew down this thing, shooting video the entire way, until I realized that, as with most things in China, there was a traffic jam in the middle. So, from there, I slowly coasted down. It was fun, I would recommend it to anyone given the chance.

Back on the bus, we continued the journey down the road and back to Beijing. It was a long ride, about 2 hours or so. It was along a small river and the trees along the bank were bright red and yellow. It was great. I put in my earphones, listened to some good music (again, the soundtrack to my life), and enjoyed the ride back. Most people in the car were completely passed out. Then, when we were about 20 minutes outside the city, we stopped. Barbara got up, looked excited, and welcomed us to the silk factory. WTF? Silk factory? Completely unnecessary. I don’t need it, at all. So we went in, learned how they make silk clothes and silk duvets, and then were told we could buy them if we wanted. Really, can I!? I’ve always wanted a silk bathrobe! Wait, no, I really don’t want one. One of the Singaporeans bought a duvet and comforter for his daughter who had allergies. The rest of us just milled around until we could leave.

After that, I was ready to be done. It was an exhausting day of driving, getting in, getting out, see this, see that. I had been extremely pleased with the Great Wall, the rest I could have done without. When I got back to the hotel, I went for an evening walk around the walls of the Forbidden City. This would be my major attraction tomorrow.

Day 37 – October 24 – Shanghai – Beijing

2009-11-30T03:12:00.000-08:00

I’m flying today from Shanghai to Beijing rather than taking the train because, although I do love train travel, above 4 hours it takes away too much time from my visits to cities. So, I got a China Southern flight out of Hongxiao airport to Beijing Capital (Peking) for pretty cheap. I did learn something this morning from this flight. Shanghai has two airports, Pudong is the primarily international airport while Hongxiao services domestic connections. Oh, yes, and the people of China have NO CLUE how to use a line. I mean, this place was nuts with throngs of people pushing everywhere. To be honest, it was not as bad as India, but this was an airport, in a major city. They should know better. Well, all the major Chinese carriers (Air China, China Southern, China Eastern, Dragon Air, etc) use the same check-in booths, so there is just one large mob of people pushing to get to the front. It took me about 45 minutes to check in for my flight, but more than that, I was just aggravated and tired and pissed off when I got to the front. But, I made it, I was on the flight, and they gave me milky sticky rice for breakfast, which was unfortunate, but I appreciated the thought. By 2pm I had arrived at my destination, Beijing airport.

I made my way to the airtrain to get to Beijing city-center. My hotel, the Red Wall Hotel, was located directly behind the Forbidden City and near public transportation lines. Unfortunately, after I transferred from the airtrain to the subway successfully, I exited the subway and started walking with my monster backpack towards the hotel in the wrong direction. 2.5 hours later, I arrived at the hotel, but I had seen most of the center of Beijing. My first impression? These buildings are massive with no sense of human scale. I remember Mr Portman, my Western Civilization teacher sophomore year at Loyola and intellectual mentor for this trip since he did something similar during his college years, telling us how when he saw the Pyramids at Giza, they bore no relation to the scale of humanity compared to, for example, the Parthenon in Athens. I would make the point this way: while the towers of Shanghai were incredibly tall, they were designed in an elegant, delicate fashion, whereas the buildings lining Beijing’s inner city were tall, wide, squat buildings with massive columns out front. They were imposing, foreboding. They were likely designed by Party officials to remind the population that the Party and Communist system were large and sturdy, in control. There was no missing these buildings and there was nothing elegant about them. They were ugly and loud, like drunk chicks at Spring Break, but at least you cannot pretend they are not there. Anyhow, I passed these buildings and checked into the hotel.

The assistant manager of the hotel was a young Chinese guy who had spent about 3 months doing an internship with a large US hotel chain in Washington D.C. He was interested in my perspective on the US, so asked if I wanted to go to a traditional Chinese acrobatic show. I said, sure, why not. We went and, while it was really interesting to see this kind of stuff, it was a complete tourist trap. It was a bunch of kids doing summersaults, flips, plate spinning, etc. The coolest was a guy who would balance on various large pipes, moving left, right, back and forward. It was really cool, and then he had a small girl balance on his head using only her head. That was cool, freakish, but cool. No wonder the Chinese won all those medals in the Olympics for gymnastics, they make these kids do absolutely freakish things from such a young age. My buddy from the hotel told me he had never been before, either, so he was impressed with the skill of the kids. The grand finale had the about 15 kids riding a bike around in a circle for a bit, which was oddly reminiscent of how people actually get around Delhi.

After the acrobatic show, we asked me if I wanted to go get a beer and something to eat. I said sure, I was game. I only requested that it was a local place as opposed to some kind of tourist trap, you know, like the trap I just left. He laughed and took me to a place with about three other patrons who were staring intently at a boxing match between a Chinese guy and a Filipino guy. We both ordered a plate of food, and he chose two starters. Then he chose two local Beijing beers, which came in the normal, non-US size of 660 centiliters, or about 2 US sized beers. He asked me if I liked to drink beer, to which I made a universally understandable face. Translation: yes, I like beer, and I bet I like it more than you. So we had a drinking contest, which was just unfair. The guy was like 22 years old and about 135 pounds, just tiny. I, on the other hand, have some experience downing beers. I mean, I’ve been US drinking for years, which is heavy on the beer and light on the wine, so good luck keeping up with me, my Chinese friend. The food was great. We had a fish and a chicken dish, with the chicken dish being very spicy. It was in a sweet and sour sauce, but with a kick. The fish was a whole fish which I had to pull apart myself, which is my favorite way to eat seafood. It should be very labor intensive, otherwise, where is the fun? The starters were seaweed and noodles, which were both good. The seaweed was surprisingly spicy and salty, at the same time, but went really well with the beer.

To make a long story short, I drank him under the table in the drinking contest. I knew I would. How did I objectively come to this conclusion? We each had five beers, but he went to the bathroom 5 times to my 2, and I had to literally drag him out of the bar. At a certain point, I was done, I wanted to get up early in the morning to see the Great Wall, and he was being pushy, wanting to have another beer and another beer. He was toast. He also tripped over a step and tried to grab one of the fish out of the aquarium next to the cash register. I was having a fantastic time watching this. It was a train wreck. At the end, I told him I would run into the bathroom real quick and meet him downstairs. Up until this point, I had an extremely favorable opinion of China. The public transportation was fast, efficient and clean. The airports worked. The hotel was nice enough for the price, and I did not have any issues walking around my area. Then I entered the bathroom at this local restaurant. I was disgusted. Inside was a long trough-style urinal and a small tiled wall behind it. As I walked in, I was almost knocked on my ass by the smell of urine and feces. Then, I look over to the tiled wall, and there was one of the boxing spectators, squatting over the whole in the floor which constitutes a toilet. He was also talking on his cellphone and making very loud grunts as he evacuated his system. I had two questions: (i) who was on the other line of that phone call and (ii) why could he not wait a couple of minutes before calling that person? I used the bathroom faster than I had ever used a bathroom before. I mean, I just had to get out of there it was so horrible. The stench was ungodly. Seriously, it smelled like rotten fish layered in vomit and poop. I would have rather smelled my own socks, but there is no way I am ever going to be barefoot in Beijing after seeing this. So, in the end, I loved the food, defended my drinking ability, and decided that China should not be accepted into the community of civilized nations until every one of its “world cities” dumps the hole and installs a porcelain toilet… with stalls. That and Glad Plugins for the stench. Then, I will take it completely seriously.

Day 36 – October 23 – Shanghai

2009-11-29T15:59:00.001-08:00

Shanghai is all about architecture. The city has grown into the financial capital of China, marginalizing the importance of Hong Kong since its handover from British to Chinese rule in the late 90s. I find the city a bit strange, since it is both vertical and horizontal. It is a massively sprawling city, with a vast population, but the business center is massive and vertical. The tallest building in building in China is located in Shanghai, the World Financial Center. The skyscrapers are brightly lit, some with large screens covering an entire side of the structure. Shanghai gives one the feeling that it has something to prove, that it is trying desperately to become accepted as a world-class city. I already think it is, but only time will tell if the financial world accepts it completely over Hong Kong.

We arrived in Shanghai a little after noon. I had to go through customs, getting off a direct train from the Special Administrative Region (SAR) of Hong Kong. It took me around 15 minutes to get through customs, which I thought was pretty funny. I looked gross and smelled worse. After 18 hours on a train, alternatively sleeping and sitting up and doing nothing in the same clothes, I was looking rather unkempt. But, the nice people at Chinese customs eventually let me through to explore their lovely country.

I’ve been trying to use public transportation wherever I go, primarily buses, trains and subways. After that extended train ride, I decided I earned a taxi ride. So I jumped into the first unmarked, illegal taxi I could find, haggled down to 25 Yuan (just north of $4), and sped off to the hotel. I wouldn’t call this hotel a splurge, but it definitely wasn’t a hostel. Hostels in Shanghai are awful, I have been told, so I put in for a hotel in the shopping district of the city. I cleaned up, showered, and sent some laundry to the cleaners. I also logged on to my laptop to find that Facebook, my blog (Blogger through Google), and various other sites were inaccessible. This is what some commentators have referred to as the Great Red Wall, an effort by the Chinese government to block content it deems subversive to the regime. Great, I won’t be able to update the blog for a while (but of course you know this if you are reading at the moment…). I was able to Skype with my mom and dad, however, which was nice. It’s always good to talk with them, especially when it is free and includes video!

I grabbed my camera and walked through the city. I don’t know that much about Shanghai, or what there is to see, so I decided to just walk towards The Bund, the area I do know about. But we’ll get to that. I walked down one of the main boulevards, passing several new glass and steel hotel/retail developments. It looks like a city has been grown in a matter of days: hotel, shopping mall, office building, repeat. So far, I hadn’t seen anything to impress me or show showcase what is culturally unique about Shanghai. I had just passed about 8 McDonald’s and 7 KFCs. Where is all the Shanghai crab?

I arrived at the People’s Park, a kind of Union Square of Shanghai. The modern art museum is located adjacent to the park, and there is very interesting interplay between modern and colonial architecture in the area. There was one very intriguing tower which looked like a spear, a main tower with an enlarged pointed top, that rose above an old colonial-style clock tower. Very interesting. I walked around the park for a while before getting stopped by three Chinese people, probably in their late 20s. As usual, I was rocking out to my iPod, so they made a motion at me, and I removed my headphones. Are you American, they asked. I nodded, and asked how they knew. I had been wearing sunglasses (it was around 4:30pm and the sun was low in the sky) and they said that they had been told that Americans always wear sunglasses, no matter if there is sun or not. I laughed, and agreed. I told them that it is a law in the US that everyone needs to wear sunglasses between 9 am and 5pm to protect against blindness. Wow, they said, really? No, I’m kidding, I replied, I just like sunglasses. They laughed. We talked for a bit about where they were from (north of Beijing) and how they had come to Shanghai for holiday since it is warmer than the North. They asked me about California and New York, about what I thought about China, and about President Obama. They said they were very impressed with him. Great, I’m a fan, too. They thought it was funny that I had come to Shanghai. As they put it “there is no Chinese culture here.” Interesting, glad I’m just doing a night then. They said all the culture I will want to see is in Beijing. They gave me some good ideas of sites to see in Beijing, which I appreciated. We split up, and I thanked them for their ideas and complimented their fantastic English.

After the park I walked through the main shopping street, choosing not to enter any of the stores since I really don’t need anything and these stores will not be selling the type of souvenirs I am interested in purchasing. I finally arrived at The Bund, the pedestrian walkway on the riverbank. Unfortunately, the entire strip is being cleaned, renovated and updated for the World Expo in 2010. Honestly, I do not really know what the Expo is, other than a continuation of the World Fairs, which dropped into obscurity after Montreal’s Expo in the 70s. But Shanghai and the Chinese tourism board has advertised this thing to death. There was a countdown clock in the hotel, along the street, and also at the airport. They are marketing this as Shanghai’s answer to the Beijing Olympics. So, The Bund was closed. Fantastic. And it is the best vantage point to view the Central Business District across the river. I walked to the tourist tunnel, what I thought was a pedestrian walkway beneath the river connecting the two sides of the city. No, this was (1) a tourist trap and (2) just plain ridiculous. A tunnel was dug under the river, and some genius probably said, hey, instead of just having a walkway or a normal subway line, how about we install a purpose built, slow as hell, people mover with some glow sticks and Christmas lights stapled to the walls of the tunnel? We’ll call it, the Shanghai Experience! So you pay an exorbitant amount, walk down about 75 steps to a super heated and humid waiting area, and board a tram with glass walls. People are pushing their way to the front, excited to see what comes next! I thought, maybe they’ll have something playing overhead talking about the history of Shanghai or current events in China. No. This was like Space Mountain at Disneyland on crack. The slow moving tram starts through a tunnel lit up in circles which turn on and off quickly, probably inducing seizures in some unfortunate souls. Then, overhead, you hear random words like “Cobalt” and “Fiery Lava” which are accompanied by weird shapes and colors projected on the walls of the tunnel. There is a screen with whales swimming on it which lifts up as the tram approached, and those waving arm inflatable tube people stuck in the middle, so the tram runs right over them. It is just weird. Flashing lights and colors, balloons getting plowed and random words does not make for a pleasant or enlightening experience. No, I just couldn’t wait to exit the weird tunnel of horrors and get to the other side of the river.

I got out and immediately saw the TV Tower, a large structure with two large, purple orbs separated by a tower in between, resting on a tripod. It is a huge structure, and quite striking, reminiscent of the Space Needle in Seattle or the CN Tower in Toronto. It is well lit, a necessary trait in a city of lights brighter than Vegas. The line to take the elevator to the top was very long, circling the base of the tower twice. I walked down to the waterfront, looking across to The Bund which had previously been obstructed from view. From this vantage point, the promenade was lined with stately Colonial buildings, well lit in soft white, a departure from the garish colorful lighting of the new CBD. This is a beautiful view. I continued walking, passing about 35 Japanese and Chinese people who had dutifully lined up with tripods and cameras awaiting the perfect time to capture their photos of Shanghai’s waterfront. I don’t have a tripod, I just make due. And, I have been satisfied with my photos thus far. I walked past several McDonald ice cream stands, which seem to be popular, and a Hagen Daaz café, which was packed with people, on my way to the monumental towers of the CBD. It took about 10 minutes to get from the waterfront to the two tallest towers in Shanghai. Looking straight up at these behemoths, I was amazed. They are fantastic examples of modern architecture. The lines are clean but create this sense of twisting as they reach towards the sky. It was all really cool, if a little soulless.

I walked back to the hotel, stopping at a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on the way. Ice Blendeds are yummy.

Day 35 – October 22 – Hong Kong - Shanghai

2009-11-29T15:29:00.000-08:00

I took the Cathay Pacific red-eye from Delhi to Hong Kong. The flight was okay. The plane was older than all the other Cathay Pacific flights I had been on, I guess this route is not a priority for the airline. I did sleep, a lot, though.

Upon arriving, I went through Hong Kong customs, which is a breeze. Really no problems at all. I booked it to the post office inside the airport, where I was able to ship that carpet home for a very cheap price. It was only about $40 to ship a 9 kilo package. Hopefully it will get to the US. They said it could take up to two months, which is fine. I will just be getting back to LA in two months.

I took the airport express to Kowloon Station, where I transferred to a shuttle bus which took me to Hum Hung station, the main train station in Hong Kong. There I bought a train ticket to Shanghai. This is not what you could really call a high-speed train in the tradition of the Shinkansen in Japan or the TGV in France. No, this is more of a put-put train. It only leaves every other day for Shanghai since the train actually takes 18 hours to travel between the two cities. I splurged and got one of the “soft-sleeper” cars with only four berths rather than the cushion-less option with six berths. I did not want to be the lone man with a family of five sharing the same room. That just doesn’t sound positive. So I boarded the train and found out that I was only sharing the cabin with a middle-aged Chinese woman who spoke no English. We were cordial to each other. I smiled, helped her with her bag, and she nodded back. We both got ourselves situated, and she went out to explore the train. I got more comfortable, taking off my boots and using the extra pillow and blanket from the empty bed to create a makeshift chair on my bed so I could read and type. When she came back, she lay in her bed for about four minutes before exiting, again. She came back quickly, sat down, faced me, and said “excuse me, your shoes… smell… terrible.” I freaked out. Dear god, my boots smell that bad that she had to exit the cabin, ask a stranger who speaks English how to translate, and then deliver it with such… vitriol? I quickly grabbed them and stashed them above us in a small closable compartment in the wall. She nodded, satisfied, and went to bed. In my own defense, she had the smelliest food I have ever had the displeasure to whiff, and her own shoes smelled pretty horrible themselves.

So, that was how the train ride went. We didn’t speak to each other, we just both watched the scenery speed by, going from the sea to hills and mountains. It was a nice ride, no major starts or stops. Next stop, Shanghai.

Day 34 – October 21 – Delhi/Agra, India – Hong Kong, China

2009-11-21T03:49:00.001-08:00

We woke up bright and early to see one of the most famed sites in the world, the Taj Mahal in Agra. Not to ruin the surprise for you, but getting there is long, arduous, and not very interesting.

The American guy we met the day before, Rich, decided to join us, so our car went from two to three Americans. We got out of the hotel, to the car, and started out. Unfortunately, we really didn’t start for another hour. We had to go to a travel agency on the other side of Delhi to get a hotel voucher for Tim. Tim had asked the travel agent repeatedly if he could get all of this worked out prior to our departure so we would not take any time away from the Taj Mahal. Yeah, that didn’t work. The travel agent was full of, excuse my French, merde. So, we started out the drive at 7, not 6 am. But we did get a nice view of some highways we haven’t traveled yet. Score?

Then, we start the drive and hit traffic almost immediately. For about 45 minutes, we moved a mere 1/4 of a mile. There was no traffic light, and the people have NO CLUE how to drive unless someone is telling them exactly how to do it. Not only that, but all the drivers lay on the horn the entire time. Honk Honk HONK!!! It was aggravating to say the least. It was difficult to sleep with the drive really leaning hard on the brake and the horn. But its okay, we are going to see the Taj Mahal! Then the driver makes a pit stop, halting the car almost in the middle of nowhere, getting out, and walking to a small hut in the road. That is when the car is surrounding by people trying to sell us crap. And this was crap. Buddha and Hindu statues, wallets, elephants carvings, bracelets, and all manners of medallions and postcards. The best was the snake charmer, who opened a basket and played a flute. The cobra sprang to life, rising up, moving from side to side, and then settling back into the basket. It was actually cool to see. They tried to get us to buy this crap or pay for the show, but we didn’t even flinch. No, nothing for you. We are not going to support the preying on hapless tourists just because you can. When the driver got back, we told him never to do that again. We have no interest in buying crap on the road.

So, next stop, Taj Mahal! Not really, we went to breakfast. Or, at least, the driver wanted us to eat. We weren’t hungry, so we just sat by the car while the driver ate his breakfast. Two men who were standing at the front to the driveway came running up to us, dragging two sacks behind them. But, those sacks were actually monkeys, dressed up in costumes and with make-up on them. One was a girl and the other a boy, and when the men clapped, they would jump up and down, like frat boys at a Sir Mix-a-Lot concert. It was really sad. The animals just looked depressed. I would be, too, if someone dressed me in a tutu and told me to jump for the foreigners. I only jump up and down for snicker bars. We bought some overpriced water and then got back in the car. Fine, we told the driver, you are full, now get us to Agra.

We arrived in the city around 11am, ready to see the Taj Mahal. But the driver first tried to get us to let him pick up his friend, a “free” tour guide. This was it. NO. We have no interest in a tour guide. He is useless to us. So, no tour guide. The driver dropped us off and the top of the walkway to the Taj Mahal, and said he would return to retrieve us in 2 and a half hours. After rebuffing three more tour guides, we got into the main plaza before the security check. You may only bring in yourself, your camera, cellphone and a bottle of water provided with your admission. Rich and I were hungry and noticed some nutrigrain bars left behind at the security check. They were still in the original wrapper, so we grabbed them, much to the chagrin of the security guard, and we just downed the suckers. They were good and very necessary.

Upon entering, we walked through a tunnel before the Taj Mahal. I was ready for it. I walked through the tunnel and entered into the grounds with a view of the mausoleum in its full glory. Words cannot describe the majesty of this structure. It is breathtaking, glittering white in the strong sunlight. The whole layout is perfect, with the long reflecting pool mirroring the building in its calm waters. As I sit here and try to come up with words to express my thoughts, I am stunted. I don’t have anything. I have been looking so forward to this moment, expectations were sky high, and they were met, nay, exceeded. This building is a concrete poem, a song which has taken form. It is meticulous in its perfection, blinding in its magnitude. The only thing I think is close to this is the Vatican in Rome. Similarly, it is large, but not imposing like the Pyramids in Egypt. It is of human scale, but just barely. Maybe in its uniform white color does it give us an impression of simplicity, because it obviously isn’t simple. It is as complex as the space shuttle. It is an illusion, trickery on the mind to make one think that it is simple. Because it is utterly perfect, the mind cannot comprehend anything other than its perfection. Well, this building is perfect, of course, what else would they do? Isn’t it obvious? This is the perfect structure… there is no other option or alternative. It is what it is.

The one funny aspect of the Taj Mahal is entering the mausoleum on the interior. The door is small leading into the center, but the people have no semblance of a line. No, they push and shove, trying to fit 10 people through a door that can barely fit two people. Near the front, I saw an older Indian woman struggling to exit. I helped her through, letting her cut me. She immediately grabbed for three people behind me. No way, I was helping you, stop pushing MORE people in front of me. So I pushed her through, cut off her three cohorts, and got out. Damn, figure it out, people. Use a line!

We walked around the grounds for over two hours, taking pictures, again, with locals and taking pictures of me doing stupid things in front of the Taj Mahal. I loved it. It was, as I said, perfect. We left, dropping Tim off at his hotel in Agra, and started back to Delhi airport, for me, and Delhi train station, for Rich. The traffic was horrendous. There was no line, no lanes and no method to the madness, but we got back. It took six hours, and I was barely on time for my flight, but we got back. I was happy with the day. It taught me that some things meet and surpass expectations. It was great, a lot of fun. We had some ridiculous interactions with each other and with the driver along the way, getting aggravated and tired with the wheeling and dealing. By the end, I think he respected us because we refused to be pushed around like normal Westerners. So I learned something, let the driver eat, but tell him not to pick up the guide. He’ll still get you there all the same, but boundaries are set.

Another thing I learned: Sometimes, it’s about the journey, not the destination. Not today, it was all about the destination.

Day 33 – October 20 – Delhi

2009-11-21T03:48:00.000-08:00

Another day, another Delhi. Today, Tim and I booked our car for tomorrow to go to Agra and visit the Taj Mahal. The car is going to drive us bright and early to the site, wait, drop Tim off at his hotel in Agra, and then return me to the Delhi airport to catch my flight to Hong Kong. We are paying more than we would like, but, hey, that is how life is. We negotiated with the agent at our hotel, in whom we have almost no faith, and decided to stop carping about money and just pay. However, as we are leaving the agency, we bump into a third American, Rich from New York. We tell him our plans and he says he might jump into our car if it works out with his schedule. The possibility that we might be able to split the car a third way is a definite positive, and we leave the hotel to start our day, on an optimistic note.

We went to the Red Fort first thing today. It was packed with tourists, both foreign and domestic. The domestic price was about 60 rupees while we were charged more like 250. A steep price, but definitely worth it. The walls to the fort are massive. Walking in one has to pass several military fortifications with middle-aged men pointing machine guns at one’s head. One of the best parts is seeing some of these bunkers manned by guys who are fully and obviously asleep. Feet kicked up, hands behind his head. I mean, the guy was in deep REM cycle sleep. I thought to myself, I hope he doesn’t wake up with a start and think I’m a renegade Brit trying to take the colony back for the Queen. I’ll walk through this area quickly. Through the main gate is a long covered passage which served as the fort’s main thoroughfare when it was used to house soldier’s families. Now, the shops were all devoted to tourism souvenirs and kitch. We passed this part quickly. I stepped out from the dark avenue of stalls into the blinding light of a large, grassy courtyard. The sheer size of this complex is not fathomable from the outside. This is a city within a city. Stretching as far as I could see to my left and right were barracks, some nicer than others, about 5 stories tall. This fort could garrison an impressive army back in the day. There were some old, rusty bicycles lying near some trees, probably still being used to navigate the immense property. In the center, down a long walkway surrounded by green park, was a long, squat structure of red stone. There were intricate arches all around the building, giving it a dignified look from up close.

To the left of this structure was a large white building with intricate carvings in the white marble. It was gorgeous. The whole thing was roped off, probably because the authorities want it to remain free of dirt and grime which would inevitably come from hundreds of thousands to millions of feet trampling over the site on a daily basis. I really enjoyed studying the details of the carvings on the marble. The geometrical designs and decorative carvings were beautiful. Sites like this remind me why so many people love India. It has so many treasures, many from the mixing of several great cultures and artistic traditions. I still just can’t get over the pollution, crime, over-crowding and hustling which takes place and makes it hard for a tourist to want to come back. It is just gross and dirty. This fort, with its efficient functionality and incredible artistic treasures, is one of those examples of the mixture of form and function which makes India unique. I do appreciate what I am seeing, but I don’t think I would want to venture back here. Just saying. We continued to walk around the site, pausing at intervals to relax on the green grass and just take in the whole site. Parts of it, like the officers’ quarters, were like an East College, elegant and beautiful. Others reflected the military use, like the lookout towers and spaces for rifles or other weapons. It was really interesting.

After the Red Fort we walked up to the Spice Market. The Spice Market is really just a street which acts as the main spice and food exchange in Old Delhi. The smells that filled the area, nutmeg and coriander and coconut, was intoxicating. It was so strong and so good. The stores were usually staffed by men but the main customers were women. I obviously had no idea what they were saying, but it looked like the women had the upper hand in haggling with these men. They would get a couple of scoops of spices in bowl, weigh it, and the men would shout a price. She would shout back a lower price, prompting the men to scoop some spice out and agree to that price. Then the woman would add an even larger scoop back to the weighed amount, sticking to her original price. The men would give up, agree to her price. It was funny to watch. Daily life in Old Delhi.

After we took a tuk-tuk to the Akshardham temple. It cost us 50 rupees each way, and we didn’t go inside. No, we didn’t because they don’t allow cameras or bags. I was not about to leave my absurdly expensive camera in a coatcheck and explore a temple. Tim felt the same way. I cannot think of a more horrifying experience than losing my beloved camera at this point in the trip. I would be able to take pictures of the Taj Mahal, Great Wall or kangaroos. That would be an insurmountable loss for me at this juncture. Who wants an around the world trip without documented proof of a kangaroo petting session? I know I don’t! So we left, enjoying the insane traffic back to the hotel, even coming up close and personal to a horse-drawn carriage at one point… which was going faster than our vehicle.

At the hotel, we asked about a restaurant. They pointed us to Karim’s adjacent to the mosque. So, Tim and I went, and it was fantastic. It looked like the restaurant has done really well, because they had about 5 different rooms to eat in. I think they had one kitchen, but as more and more people came to eat at Karim’s, they had to open more dining rooms. I had the half chicken curry, which had the perfect amount of spice. It was light, but flavorful. I was in heaven. That, along with the best nan I have ever had. It was more thoroughly cooked than nan back home, but it was even more light and fluffy in the middle. It was the perfect consistency for picking up the remnants of the curry sauce in one’s plate. We also had a kebab each, which was nice. I didn’t need more than one, all this food was more than enough for me. Tim had a chicken briyani, which was also darn good. We sat there, at a table not unlike what one would find in a highschool cafeteria back in the US, but it was perfect. No drinking the water for us, a couple of colas really hit the spot. We also loved the green chili sauce which gave an added kick to the nan and curries. Yum, that was perfect.

Walking back to the hotel, we noticed a large sign promoting the fireworks which had kept us up and terrified of dying in an inferno the past two nights: Cock Brand Fireworks. Really? Awesome, I’ll just take a photo of that and laugh to myself whenever I see it. Yes, I’m immature. What else do you want from me? Tim and I had another beer on the roof and toasted to our day in Delhi. It was chaotic, sometimes rewarding and sometimes an utter failure, just what we had come to expect from the city. And we were full. Well-done.

Day 32 – October 19 – Delhi

2009-11-21T03:39:00.000-08:00

I’m going to start this posting by giving some insight on why I chose the cities and countries I chose for this trip. I wanted to visit places I had never been to before, places with cultures and traditions very different from Western traditions, which I am familiar with. Asia, in particular, has held a lot of appeal. I had never been to Asia before, yet I have several friends from Asia, so I have places and people to visit. Whether it is Asian influences on food or architecture, music or movies, there is significant reason to be interested in the impact Asian life has had on the US. So, spending an extended period of time in the region sounded like a fantastic opportunity. The BRIC countries, Brazil, Russia, India and China, are quite interesting as the current engines of global economic growth. Traveling through China, India and Russia would be interesting both culturally and intellectually (Brazil will have to be another trip. I’m going to have to ask Paola Gilsanz, intellect extraordinaire, to show me around Brazil sometime in the near future.) India, was high on the list. I’ve had several Indian friends who have raved about the cities and the countryside in India. I’ve come to the conclusion that India would take longer than the amount of time I would be able to dedicate to it on this trip. So, spending a couple of days in the capital, New Delhi, and making a pit stop to the Taj Mahal, sounded like a good compromise.

You know those commercials that place incessantly on CNN (and, especially, CNN International) about “Incredible India?” Yeah, I have NO IDEA where those videos are shot because the India I am seeing at the moment is absolutely terrible. When I went down to the travel agent associated with the hotel, the young man (more like a kid) who worked there was not very helpful. I wanted to take the train to Agra to see the Taj Mahal, but he insisted a car was better. It took no less than an hour of haggling to get the price down to around $120 for the round-trip transportation, including admissions to the sites. In the travel agency, I met another American named Tim. Nice guy. We decided to travel around Delhi together, splitting cab fares and such.

We walked around Old Delhi, the area around our hotel, first going to the Red Fort. It is a large citadel constructed by the British during colonial rule. It is very impressive from the outside. Unfortunately, it is closed on Mondays, so we only got to take pictures. We jumped the gate and took pictures in front of the main gate until a couple of soldiers told us to move away. It was worth it, I’m sure tomorrow this area is going to be teaming with tourists. We walked down the main street, passing the old train station, with its dignified colonial architecture.

We wandered around aimlessly for a bit before stumbling across the Jama Masjid Mosque, the largest mosque in India. It can hold 50,000 worshipers and is still the center of Islam in the country. Before entering, Tim and I had to borrow sarongs from the front vendor since we were wearing shorts, which is unacceptable, similar to the Vatican. Different from the Vatican, however, is that no ticket is necessary to enter unless one has a camera. Then the admission fee jumps to several dollars. Damn. I was given a sarong which could have been the same tartan design as that off William Wallace. It was pretty hilarious. Also, this thing was massive, so it had to be worn high, making me look ridiculous. All for the love of culture. The mosque is massive. Upon entering one’s gaze is drawn up to the two large minarets flanking the wide façade. Three large onion domes in the Arab design are topped with shining gold points. The red and white stone is immaculately clean, a wide departure from most of the surrounding area. The main plaza is surrounded by an elegant arcade with three large gates looking down to the bustling city below. The view from the gate opposite the main structure includes a fantastic view of the Red Fort in the distance. We bought tickets to climb the minarets, hiking up the spiral staircase for what seemed like forever. Don’t forget, it is friggin hot in this country, around 99 degrees and humid, and I’m wearing a heavy cotton moo-moo over my normal clothes (Dear god, I was wearing a Scottish plaid moo-moo, wasn’t I? The horror.) At the top of the minaret we were treated to a spectacular view of the city below in full swing at midday. Delhi is teaming with people, people on top of people.

We stopped for lunch at the McDonald’s on the main street, about 10 minutes away from the mosque. Most of this area is lined with street food, which, although looking inviting, makes my stomach cringe in anticipation. Since we could not find a location which did require prophylactic Cipro dosages, we went to McDonald’s. In India, there are no beef or pork products. So I had chicken nuggets. A little taste of fried American goodness, hit the spot.

From here Tim and I went to the Lotus Temple, a building in the newer part of town with an adjoining park. The temple was constructed with a modern design to mimic the shape of a lotus blossom. It is very similar in design to the Sydney Opera House. It also reminds me of the Self Reliance Fellowship at home in Pacific Palisades, California. One enters through a park which is a welcome respite from the insanity and traffic of Delhi. The temple rests on a hill, surrounded by small pools which reflect the structure’s white walls. Inside, the ceiling undulates, making several nooks for quiet reflection. We sat inside, enjoying some time for quiet reflection. I reflected on how much I wanted to be out of the traffic and pollution of Delhi, to be honest. I don’t think it matters how much one prays, the sky in Delhi is going to remain a yellow-reddish hue.

From the Lotus Temple we negotiated rates with the tuk-tuk driver. In order for him to take us back to Old Delhi, we would have to stop by one of those stores where they try to sell one souvenir crap and give the driver a tip for stopping. We were resolved not to buy anything. As we walked through, looking at Buddha statues and Hindu carvings, we looked at the carpets. They actually made some beautiful carpets, some pure silk the others with a yak and silk blend. There was one which I was interested in, but they started the price at $2,000. That is way out of my price range. So I told him, although I liked it, I could not afford it. Come on, man, what would you like to pay for it? Let me know your price. So, I started at 20% of the price… $400. Oh, no, we can’t do that, how about $1,800, came the reply from the owner. No, I said, I really can’t go about $400, but thanks for the offer! I really had no issues about walking away at this point without the carpet, which the owner obviously gathered from my attitude. After about 15 to 25 minutes of going in circles, and me nearly walking out several times, they got to $500. So, I bought a carpet. But part of the deal was that I would have to carry it with me. Fine, I am going to lug around a 5 foot by 7 foot silk carpet for the remainder of my trip. I am going to see if I can ship it from a post office around here.

Afterwards we went to India Gate, the equivalent of Delhi’s Arc d’Triomphe and Champs Elysees. I’ve been seeing lots of Champs Elysees knock-offs on this trip (Vientiane, also). Come on, get your own monument. Around India Gate we took several photos as the sun set. The monument is made of a rosy stone, like sandstone, so it almost glowed while the setting sun shone all around it. We made a couple of circles around the actual structure when a couple of Indian kids came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. They pointed at a camera and then at the monument. I said, sure, I’ll take a picture of you in front of the Gate, and walked toward the camera. No! they cried, and a smaller boy sheepishly approached me. Take the picture with you, he said. Huh? I’m confused. You want to take a picture with me in it? I’m kind of weirded out by that, but, sure, I’ll take a picture with some random locals. After I took one photo with some local teenagers, more and more came running up, until there were about 25 kids surrounding me. It didn’t help that Tim found this absolutely hysterical, prodding more teens to join the circus that was developing adjacent to the India Gate. After a couple of shots, I bid my new fan club farewell, and we walked down the wide boulevard, admiring the Gate as it became lit up while the sun set.

Tim and I returned to the hotel, deciding to have a beer on the rooftop of the Hotel Tara. This was the final evening of Diwali, resulting in every breathing person in the city with fireworks left after the first two nights of festivities to contribute to a massive, uncoordinated assault on the city’s weak structural integrity by blowing up M80s, roman candles and flares. There was an explosion every few seconds, reverberating through the cement canyons of Delhi. We drank our Black Label beer (not bad) and enjoyed the free show. Hey, if the city is going down in a fiery inferno tonight, I’d like to watch it from the roof rather than just roast in my room. We watched some kids launching sparklers from the roof next to us, running around the roof with unmitigated glee. Then, as we were about to call it an evening, some pretty large fireworks were launched from the just outside the mosque, incredibly close to our rooftop location. We were able to see the show perfectly, enjoying the smell of the smoke as it wafted past us. It was pretty cool to watch. This wasn’t some orchestrated show, this was spontaneous, real festivities by an interested population. It was great.

Random Musings - On Japan

2009-11-21T03:35:00.000-08:00

My time in Japan was brief, but I did have the opportunity to meet interesting, fun individuals, whether on the tourist path through Kyoto or through my family in Osaka. As an outsider, I saw a country with an incredible culture, beautiful temples and masses of people walking through canyons of neon lights. The toilets were more complicated and advances than some of the computers in the US. Customs was efficient and painfree – They put a sticker in one’s passport with all the information the Japanese government deems important on a barcode. The trains are incredible. Kyoto, a potent symbol of past achievements in government and spirituality, stands as a monument to a glorious inheritance for the Japanese people. But, with all this, the majority of the people I met were pessimistic. It isn’t only my anecdotal evidence. The suicide rate in Japan is twice that in the US. In a recent poll by The Asahi Shimbun newspaper, the top three words used to describe the current era were “unrest,” “stagnation,” and “bleak.” After years of proclaiming the “Coming Asian Century” on magazine covers across the world, Japan is no longer assumed to be the forefront of that Asian revolution. China is.

Japan saw its economy explode in the late 70s and throughout the 80s. The world grew to accept Japanese cars and electronics. The newly rich captains of industry branched out and bought property in the US, including the trophy of New York City, Rockefeller Center. This was a time for optimism, optimism that found an outlet in building golf courses or buying overseas. But, then, the bubble burst, Japan fell into a deep and lengthy recession. Some economists, including Paul Krugman in the US, have blamed the length of the Japanese recession, on the government’s refusal to really push for a single, powerful stimulus to shock the country back into growth. Interest rates in the country hovered near zero for years. The recession has been referred to as the “Lost Decade” because no growth has occurred, the stock market didn’t return to the frothy levels of the 80s, and a generation has grown up in an economy without any reason for optimism.

The Japanese should be optimistic about their future. They have an incredible infrastructure with which to grow industries that should prove synergistic with the rise of China. They occupy an important position in the world, both geographically and politically. They are the major economy and democracy on the doorstep of the burgeoning Chinese. Their culture influences the world, from car and electronics to fashion and entertainment (although not music, their music is awful). The reasons are their, they have just been depressed for too long to see it.

My fear is less for the Japanese and more for my fellow Americans. We, too, have fallen into a terrible recession. Thankfully, the fiscal and spending stimuli have been large, even if some economists call them too small. The stimulus has been larger than either party thought necessary in October 2008, but, then again, the damage was far worse than anyone expected back then. I hope that Americans don’t fall into the trap of conceding growth and optimism to China. We, too, have reasons to be optimistic. The US was built on a foundation of dynamism, where innovation lives and breaths. I’m excited about my prospects upon returning to New York. Where else is every nationality of the world represented? It is easier to fall into a trap than to climb out of one. I have great hope in my country and my fellow citizens. I have faith in the current government with its incredible brain trust. Americans can find upside no matter what. Just ask GS.

Day 31 – October 18 – Tokyo, Japan – Delhi, India

2009-11-17T20:40:00.001-08:00

Honestly, there is not much to say about today. I checked out of the hotel and got myself ready for a long day of travel. I took the airport express again to Narita (what, do I friggin live at this airport now?) and checked into my JAL flight to Delhi. The flight was delayed and over nine hours, so I didn’t get to Delhi until late. Not only that, but once I got to Delhi, my bags took about 45 minutes to get off of the plane. I found the driver sent by my hotel to pick me up, and we made our way for the center of Old Delhi.

Here is my initial impression of Delhi. Polluted, dusty, crowded and dirty. I got into an old, beat-up car and it took well over an hour to get to the Hotel Tara Palace. It was fine, nothing special. Definitely no Shilla or Park Hyatt. No, this was a concrete floor with a mattress laid on it. It did have plenty of power outlets, though. It was late at night, around 11pm, and there were big BOOMS and POPS exploding every few seconds. As it happens, I am in India during Diwali. If you are a fan of The Office, you will know that Diwali is the most important celebratory festival in India. It is a three day festival, with the first night being the most important. The fireworks were loud and, honestly, obnoxious. Most were just like M80s, loud and with no cool colors or sparks. It just sounded like I was in a war zone. Hopefully, I will be proven wrong tomorrow and I will see the face of Incredible India (trademarked by the Indian Tourism Board).

Day 30 – October 17 – Seoul, South Korea – Tokyo, Japan

2009-11-17T20:39:00.000-08:00

Time to take another flight. I really have done an incredible amount of travel over the past week or so. Whether it is flying around on small or large jets or taking trains between Japanese cities, I have been moving and chugging along. So I allow myself to sleep in a little this morning and check out of the Shilla, something I really didn’t want to do. It was a great hotel, the bed was really comfortable, and I didn’t want to move. But such is the life of the Backpacker in a Suit.

At the Seoul airport, I found a great surprise. Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf! I know, I’m a dork. But, for those of you who missed this point in my life, the best job I ever had in my life was working at the Coffee Bean in Pacific Palisades. It was about a 15 minute walk from home, which now sounds great, but, remember, this is Los Angeles. No one walks more than 25 feet. A car is life. My older sister, Megan, worked near the Coffee Bean that summer, but she didn’t want to walk to work, so I did. Even though I usually opened the store at 5:30 in the morning. But it turned out well, I got to wear the cool uniform around town, complete with dorky hat. The Coffee Bean was the place to hang out, so I had a lot of friends come and chill at the store, drinking my Ice Blended drinks which I made expertly. This eventually helped me out in college, as Paola can tell you, since I would make lattes or blendeds in my dorm room for people. That same summer, working at the Coffee Bean, I was nominated for employee of the month, since I was so good, and then accused of stealing. It was later accepted that I did not steal, no, I was just working more than everyone else, so the automated system assumed I was doing something fishy. No, I was just taking double shifts. So, yes, seeing a Coffee Bean in Seoul was a short burst of home in an otherwise strange land. I had an Ice Blended Vanilla, if you care, and it was as scrumptious as it would have been in Southern California.

I boarded my Korean Air flight (fantastic airlines, by the way) and arrived at Narita in the late afternoon. I took the airport express train back into Shinjuku and checked into a new hotel, one that was cheaper than the Park Hyatt. I wandered around Shinjuku again, having dinner in another non-descript restaurant which was fine, and went to bed. I have to get to the airport relatively early in the morning, which I am not looking forward to, and I think I will use the opportunity to catch up on rest and some reading. I want to finish The Match before I arrive in India.

Day 29 – October 16 – Seoul

2009-11-17T20:37:00.000-08:00

I’m staying at the Hotel Shilla in Seoul. It is an incredible place. I would compare it to the Hotel Bel-Air in Los Angeles. You drive up an unassuming drive which turns twice before rising to a large hotel. The staff arrive at the car door before it has stopped, and the expansive lobby is immaculately maintained. The room is spacious and well appointed. The large bathroom has been updated recently with new fixtures. Once again, Japanese-style toilet freaks me out. This one has a perfume and “sound” button. If you press the sound button, the toilet makes constant flushing sounds, I would assume its purpose is to mask bathroom noises. I’m sorry, but most people know why one goes to the bathroom, and its not to read the paper. That is of secondary importance.

I have a typical Korean breakfast of soup with tofu and noodles. It is actually very good. I am a big fan of Asian spices, so I asked for it to be spicy, and the chef did not disappoint! Spicy! Jay meets me and introduces me to his sister, who runs the hotel. I had to let her know that I think it is an especially run hotel. From there we go to the Samsung headquarters where Jay talks to me about South Korean demographics, history and current events. The armistice line from the Korean War was the actual front on the day the Armistice was signed. Interestingly, it is higher in the East and lower to the West, where Seoul is. The Americans had dug in at a certain point, not pushing the front farther North by that point while the South Korean army had continued a Northerly push to the East, resulting in the diagonal border with North Korea. Seoul is a mere 50 miles from the North Korean border. Pretty frightening. I told Jay how interested I was in the history behind the war, and the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) in particular, so he offered to see if I could get a tour of the DMZ. After about an hour of chatting, we parted ways. I thanked him for his generosity with his time and hospitality, and I went to the Samsung showroom.

You know what, I don’t need to know about all these cool gadgets and toys. The digital cameras and cellphones are really interesting, and it looks like Samsung is doing a lot of innovation besides increases in pixel count and optical zooms. There is one camera which has an LCD on the front of the camera, so one can see oneself while doing a self-portrait. Or, the LCD will show a short cartoon, hopefully getting a fidgety child to look at the camera for 10 seconds. Cool. There was a case showing their most popular cellphones over the years, which included one of mine. But, the thing that I loved, were the LED displays. These televisions was large, but incredibly thin and had the best clarity I have ever seen. The Blu-Ray dvd of choice at the moment is The Dark Knight. If I were home, I would have rushed out to buy that tv in a heartbeat. Thank goodness I’m not at home. My two inch thick tv is starting to seem clunky to me.

After visiting the showroom, I was off to the DMZ. I had a tour of the areas that are opened to tourists. The whole set-up is incredibly elaborate and secure. At a certain point, you leave your car and can only be transported by designated transport. No one goes within a certain distance of the Armistice Line, and the UN designated DMZ is only two kilometers on each side of the Armistice Line. South Korea has fortified beyond that point, also. There is an observation point that one can go to, but not take pictures. There are no photographs in the South Korean controlled area around the DMZ except in designated areas. At the observation point, there is a yellow line painted on the ground which specifies at which point photo-taking is not allowed. They do not want any tourist photos to inadvertently give the North Koreans intelligence on their defenses. After all, the two Koreas are technically still at war with each other.

From the observation point one can see the actual line of demarcation and the UN buildings straddling that point. It is a surreal sight. At one point, one of the two countries built a large flagpole which could be seen across the border. Then the other Korea built a slightly taller one. Then the other built a taller one, and so forth. North Korea now has the tallest flagpole in the world. It is kind of absurd. Most of the country is dying of starvation, but they have a really tall piece of steel with a flag on the top. In fact, the country is so destitute, that it cannot afford to change the flag at the top of the pole, so it leaves a very heavy one up there. It is old and obviously fading, and, to be frank, I think it looks pretty sad and decrepit. But, there you go, symbolism is more important to some political regimes than the true poverty and dire situation of its citizens. Another case where misplaced bravado wins the day.

After the Armistice, the North Koreans dug tunnels underneath the border to aid in any future military offensive against the South. The South Koreans inadvertently discovered the tunnels and have continued to look for tunnels since the first discovery. Since the late 50s, four tunnels have been discovered, the latest in the 90s. These tunnels were designed to allow hundreds of thousands of North Korean troops across the border. These have become tourist destinations for the South, much to the dismay of the cash-strapped North. Walking down several hundred feet, I walked through the tunnel, which was incredibly interesting. Upon discovery by the South, the North Koreans digging the tunnel quickly spray painted the walls black in places, so that they could claim that the tunnels were dug as coal mines. Really? What a lame excuse. This kind of delusion is sickening. The tunnels were also very low, since the soldiers from North Korea are pretty short. On average, North Koreans are shorter than their Southern counterparts due to decades of malnutrition.

I met some American soldiers who were touring the site. They were very interesting. The US military has troubled relationship with the population of South Korea, primarily due to a series of scandals over the past decade with US soldiers and the local civilian population. The soldiers I met were very interesting, discussing their role in the region and how it has become a very important base with the burgeoning presence of China to the west, the unpredictable posturing of North Korea to the north, and important international shipping lanes to the south and west.

The DMZ has had one unexpected positive benefit. It has become a nature preserve. Since the area has been completely cleared of human interactions for 50 years, unique plant and animal life have taken refuge there. Hopefully, one day, when the DMZ ceases to be used as a heavily fortified border, and the Koreas are reunited, the area will continue to function as a wildlife preserve and maintain the special habitat it has created.

The final stop was the northern most train station in South Korea. It is actually linked with the North and was used as an international cargo transfer location until the North closed it at their end. You can get stamps there, showing you visited the Seoul-Pyongyang train station, but I chose not to get that stamp in my passport. I don’t know, but I don’t think having the Pyongyang stamp in my passport would endear me to many customs officials around the world, let alone upon returning to my own beloved United States of America. So I stamped a small piece of paper, wondering to myself what I would do with that piece of paper. Eh. South Korean soldiers also stand there, and I asked if I could take a photo with them. They agreed. I asked if they wanted to do a fun pose, and they looked at me with questioning looks. So, I did my grrrr pose, to which they just stared at the camera. I still think it was pretty cool and they would have liked to have had some fun, too, but they played coy. Well done, soldiers. You put me in my place.

Afterwards I got back to the hotel and had dinner. I went out on the town, but there is not that much to explain. The city was very interesting, like Tokyo in the sense that restaurants and bars are on various floors of buildings. Since my Korean is non-existent (I did learn that saying “come see my dog” really fast sounds like “thank you” in Korean), my ability to go out was limited. Tomorrow, back to Japan.

Day 28 – October 15 – Tokyo, Japan – Seoul, South Korea

2009-11-17T17:24:00.001-08:00

I started the morning by going to the Tsukiji fish market. This is the place where all of the fisherman bring their tuna and other fish to be marketed directly in the wee morning hours. It is pretty incredible to see the insanity of the auction. Although other people told me differently, I listened to the concierge at the hotel who told me not to bring my camera. She said that it WILL get wet and after the inundation that my poor Canon took at Angkor Wat, I have no interest in really seeing it endure another soaking. I just would lose it if my camera broke or took a turn for the worst. So I walked around, hearing people shouting and gesturing and cheering during the fish auction. Afterwards I looked for the stall with the characters the concierge had suggested. There are row after row of stalls of chefs serving the freshly prepared and newly bought fish. Seriously, the sushi is pretty much squirming right there in front of you as you eat it. The sashimi literally melted in my mouth it was so good. I really really enjoyed it. I sat between two old Japanese men who thought it was really funny that I was there.

After the early morning fresh fish breakfast, I returned to the hotel to pack up and leave. I gathered my things, packed the backpack, and headed downstairs. No real reason to call the concierge to send someone to pick up my stuff as my bag weighs more than the staff. Off to the airport cause I am going to Seoul, South Korea.

Upon arriving in Seoul, I get in the car to go to the hotel. My dad had met a senior guy, Jay, from Samsung recently, and when he mentioned that I was traveling Asia at the moment, Jay graciously offered to show me around if I arrived in South Korea. So, I met up with Jay and several of his friends for dinner. It happened to be his brother’s birthday the preceding day, so we celebrated. I had a fantastic time. Since I got to Seoul in the late afternoon, I didn’t get to see much that day, but what I did see was very impressive. The city is massive with bright, gleaming skyscrapers and people everywhere. There were more coffee shops (including the Coffee Bean, YES!) per capita than probably any other place in the world. Very interesting.

We had dinner where we discussed the game of golf, which Jay and his family are very interested in. It was fun to discuss the game, since I haven’t played in a while. For some reason, I didn’t think bringing a golf bag with me was probably the most efficient use of my space or weight allowance on planes. But we talked about the famous match between Hogan, Nelson, Ward and Venturi played at Cypress Point in the 1950s immortalized in a book by Mark Frost. Jay gave the book to me after dinner, which I am really excited about reading. We talked about the world economy, what’s happening, where I was going, what I had seen so far, and how much fun I have had. It was great to spend some time with people in the business world again (I know, did I really just say that?) and talk about random current events. Jay was incredibly nice to me, I had the best time. Tomorrow I’m going to have breakfast with him and tour the Samsung showroom. Should be interesting!

Day 27 – October 14 – Kyoto – Tokyo

2009-11-17T16:19:00.000-08:00

This morning I got up early to walk around the city in the morning light. I really enjoy Kyoto, it has the history and calm attitude I expected out of Japan. People walk around the city in kimonos and sandals. The elderly residents look up at me and give me a nice, bright smile, nodding their heads as I bow my head and smile at them. There are plenty of gardens and shrines to wander through randomly, it is fantastic. I wondered what I would find around the next corner. I walked back to the Buddha statue and sat underneath as the bells tolled again. There was a intangible majesty to looking down upon the ancient city from a perch high above, looking at the meshing of modern cell towers and old pagodas. I think I would rather stay here than go to Tokyo, but duty calls. Time to be on my way and explore what was one of the most dynamic and interesting cities of the 20th Century.

I boarded the Shinkansen bullet train for Tokyo. Man, I really do love this JapanRail pass. Seat reservations are included in the ticket price I paid back in LA, so even if I miss the train I was supposed to be on, I can get a reservation for the next train, 6 or 7 minutes later! Awesome. I took the train to the Shinjuku station in the center of Tokyo. I am using some of my hotel points garnered from my business travel days to stay at the Park Hyatt Tokyo. Damn, this is a nice hotel. It occupies the top floors of the Park Tower which borders a large park and the Tokyo Metropolitan Offices. The Metropolitan Offices is the seat of the city government and the building is designed after Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. I’ll just put this out there, I don’t like the design. Just bad. Come on, there is a different between being inspired and just grasping at straws. The Park Hyatt, however, was fantastic. The hotel has several great restaurants and the bar is superb with a view of Tokyo Tower and other major sites across the city. The fixtures and size of the rooms amazed me. In Tokyo space is at a premium, and the size of the room was significantly larger than I expected. There was no lobby, per say, but you took an elevator to the 42 floor where there were five desks and large armchairs, where one could checkout. By the time I was out of the cab, they had asked for my name and someone was waiting at the elevator for me with my room key. My only complaint: it was really only women working at the hotel and I was not about to give a 4 foot 10 inch, 85 pound woman carry my 45 pound backpack to my room. So I lugged it around with me. I don’t think they get many backpackers at this hotel, but, hey, I like to be unique. My room had a fantastic view of Tokyo Tower and the city at large. It was great.

I walked down into the Shinjuku area and just wandered around underneath the bright neon lights. There was a McDonald’s or 7Eleven every couple of hundred feet, more so than in the States. It just seems that people in Tokyo go and consume, consume, consume. There wasn’t a single person I was who didn’t have a large bag of clothes or electronics clutched tightly in his or her arms. One of the most hilarious moments I had in Tokyo was while I was walking towards a major boulevard to a large pedestrian zone when I literally bumped into this girl dressed as a Japanese anime character. She was wearing a bright pink dress which pointed out almost horizontally due to several petty coats underneath. It had a slick, plastic appearance and looked like it would not move or wrinkle, ever. Her face was dusted white and she had applied large red circles to her cheeks with matching bright red lipstick. Her hair was generously gelled so that it stuck out at all angles like a frightened porcupine. I was afraid that she might run at me with her head down and gouge out my eyeballs. He platform heels were some of the highest I have ever seen in my life, and she obviously had issues walking on them as she teetered precariously atop them. Upon seeing her, I burst out laughing. Had I had a camera on me, I would have taken a picture in her face with the flash, momentarily blinding her, and then ran for it. Any person dressed like this cannot be mentally stable. Instead, she gave me the evil eyes as I laughed and walked away indignantly, or at least she would have looked indignant if she weren’t concentrating so hard on not falling off those heals.

I had dinner at a restaurant two floors below ground, sitting cross-legged at a table and picking the wonderfully pictured foods in the menu. Thank you, Japan, for putting pictures next to all of your food! I had some gyoza, sashimi and skewers. The food was fine, nothing special. It was at least relatively cheap and the Asahi beer was good. Most of the bars and restaurants in Tokyo are located on different floors of buildings, so if you don’t speak Japanese, it can prove difficult to find the place you want to go. I returned to the hotel in order to give my eyes a break after looking at neon lights all evening and had a drink at the hotel bar. Man, that is a fantastic bar. I suggest anyone in Tokyo go to the Park Hyatt hotel bar and have a drink while looking across the city, bright with lights. It is amazing.

Day 26 – October 13 – Osaka – Kyoto

2009-11-17T15:21:00.000-08:00

Today I woke up with just the hint of a hangover. It was not that bad, probably thanks to the fact that we stuck mainly to sake. Keeping it to one type of liquor is always helpful, I find. I packed it up, got my backpack ready, and headed to the Shinkansen to take a really quick train ride to Kyoto. Kyoto, as Sadachika commented, is to Osaka as Pasadena is to Los Angeles. In other words, really really close. It was only about 25 minutes away on the fast train.

I found Kyoto to be absolutely gorgeous. It is the old capital of Japan, where the Emperors were for hundreds and hundreds of years. The temples and shrines are older, more elaborate, and better preserved than elsewhere in Japan, thanks to minimal damage during World War II. I spent the first part of the day heading East across the river, to the older shrines up on the hill of the city. I asked the concierge which direction to the shrines and if it was walkable. She said that she would not really consider it herself, but walking would be possible. It would take, I don’t know, maybe 45 minutes? I told her I could handle it. Across from the hotel was a convenience store where I bought a bottle of water and a Snickers bar, you know, the candy bar now trying to be marketed as an energy bar in the US because it has peanuts in it. How stupid do they think we are? It is a candy bar, and I got it because I want candy.

I started walking up the hill, and about 15 minutes up, a large Buddha statue rises to my left. It was MASSIVE! Although it was not close to my current position, I made a mental note to visit it later. I kept trudging up the hill when I saw a very peculiar sight. A very skinny Japanese guy, in a weird bikeshorts-spandex-lederhosen hybrid was running down the hill holding onto the front of a carriage. This carriage was the sort that would usually be hitched to one or two horses. It was carrying two very large people who were giggling uncontrollably. He was using his hands to make sure the carriage would not fall over, but he was not adding to its momentum at all. He was running just fast enough not to be plowed over by the damn thing as it headed downhill at rapidly increasing speeds. At the bottom, one of his friends was waiting to help slow it down as it hit the flat road. Once the rather Rubenesque passengers disembarked, two of the runners pushed it back up the hill. What a random idea. I think the appeal to most people is that if your runner does not run fast enough, he gets mowed down and you, the passenger, go flipping backwards. Fun!

I kept on up the hill to the fantastic site of the hillside Kiyomizu temple. The first thing you get to is the tourist street leading up to the temple which is filled with souvenir and food stands. Armed with water and a Snickers, I walked up to the temple which starts with a beautiful red pagoda perched on a pedestal flanked by small matching bell pagodas. The whole view is quite exquisite when you look down at the city of Kyoto below, blanketed by dense trees in various shades of green. Although it was a cloudy day, rays of sunshine burst through in a handful of places, spotlighting the trees below in an ethereal glow. The whole scene was gorgeous and, if I were a pilgrim visiting the site a thousand years ago, would fill me with a profound sense of spirituality. I continued to walk around the shrine, savoring the smells of incense that hung in the air like perfume. Down below the main site was a water fountain where people were lining up with sticks ending with cups to catch that water and drink it. This water was flowing from the shrine and was considered holy water. I went ahead and drank, as well, saying a short prayer for my digestive track to remain strong and healthy. I treated myself to a honey and vanilla ice-cream, very yummy.

Once I left I passed by a five-tier pagoda, which was closed today, but stunning, nonetheless. I then walked to the large Buddha statue. It was quite striking with the sun hitting it in the late afternoon, turning it into a sandy-pink color. It adjoined another shrine which was built in the 1700s by a noble family. The complex was beautiful, laid out very simply with majestic gardens running across a lake and up a hill wooded with bamboo. The colors in the gardens were a myriad of reds, yellows, oranges and greens, displaying the best Autumn foliage I have seen outside of New Hampshire. The camera does not capture the extent of the colors against the darkening skies. I found myself sitting at the top of the hill, listening to the deep tones of the bells being struck below me. The bells exuded a deep bass sound which reverberated deep inside my chest, shaking me. It was fantastic. Below and to the left was a well-manicured bamboo forest where shafts of dwindling afternoon light shone through clear and strong. The whole scene was reflected in the mirror-like pond next to the temples below me. I felt completely and utterly relaxed.

From there I walked down through a large municipal park called Maruyama Park, complete with rivers and rock waterfalls. I just walked slowly through, enjoying myself as it started to get dark. The area was full of small temples and shrines, and as it became progressively darker, the lamps surrounding all the sites lit up. The ambience was surreal. It had the feel of a carnival or fair with the bright red buildings and swinging lanterns, but the respectful quiet and reverence of a religious building. I was in awe of the entire place. Kyoto is a very special place.

Day 25 – October 12 – Osaka – Hiroshima

2009-11-16T19:56:00.001-08:00

Early morning start! I got up, changed, and went to the train station to make my way to Hiroshima. For several reasons I wanted to visit Hiroshima. Being the site of the first military usage of the nuclear bomb, the city has become a center of the anti-proliferation and peace movement for years. The site was chosen for the first bomb for several reasons: its location in a basin, military production center, and concentrated center. The destructive force of the blast would be unmistakable. After the Enola Gay dropped the uranium fueled bomb, over 100,000 people died of the initial explosion and subsequent radioactive fallout. It took a second, plutonium fueled, bomb on Nagasaki and the threat of a third on Tokyo to end the Pacific Theater of World War II. I am not judging or critiquing the decision to use nuclear weapons on civilian populations to end World War II, but seeing remnants of the destructive power of these weapons is incredibly powerful. The utter devastation of a single weapon like this is near impossible to comprehend. The mere thought of one of these, even the less powerful rudimentary atomic weapons like the ones we dropped on Japan in the 40s, being detonated in Los Angeles, San Francisco or New York is terrifying. And that, I think, is why the American detour in Iraq has been so damaging; we should have used the world’s solidarity after 9/11 to pressure Iran and North Korea to give up their WMD programs with confirmation by international experts. But enough of my soapbox.

Hiroshima was a beautiful city, gleaming in the bright noon sunlight. A small river runs through the city with tens of people running along the riverbanks. It was a lovely sight. Smack in the middle of the city is the ruined Peace Memorial. A former civic center, its green dome was used as the target for the Enola Gay bomber. The steel beams of the dome remain intact, along with the destroyed concrete walls, creating a ghostly vision against the bright sunny day. The crumbling, gray skeleton of the building contrasts with the bright green trees of the surrounding park and clean, steel-and-glass skyscrapers in the immediate surroundings. I was struck by the sight. The adjoining Peace Museum is very well done, making the case for peace without assigning blame to different parties or countries. I like the idea that the museum is a real museum, facts without spin or politics attached. The statement is able to stand on its own.

I boarded the Shinkansen (Bullet train) back for Osaka in order to change for my dinner with Sadachika and his wife. I cleaned up, got dressed in my new gray suit from Hoi An, and headed down to the lobby. I am actually very pleased with my purchase in Vietnam, the suit is fantastic! Although, I decided against wearing the vest. This was a open collar shirt and jacket night, I suspect. Sadachika picked me up in his metallic gray Mercedes SL500 (he even sent me a photo of it in his email so I knew which Mercedes to look for!) outside the hotel and we drove to his house in the suburbs of Osaka. Unfortunately, we had the top down the entire time, and if you know me well, I never use a hair dryer. So when I exited the car at his house, my hair was looking pretty fuzz-ballish. Whatever, it works for me. I met his wife and daughter and followed them into the house to have tea. Since I do my research before things like these, I knew that when entering a Japanese household, one takes of his or her shoes. So, I made sure I wore non-smelly shoes and hole-less socks. Score one cultural point for the backpacker. They had a beautiful home with an excellent view of Osaka. Their neighborhood was the equivalent to Bel-Air in Los Angeles, nice, well appointed homes in the hills above the city. We looked through their photo albums of their visits to LA, including Uncle Pat and Aunt Kathy’s wedding (I found my sister, Megan, and myself in the photos) and another visit where they spent a good amount of time with the Byrnes family. It was a lot of fun to go through their memories with them.

After tea, we bid their daughter goodnight since she had work to do, and the three of us set off for dinner. In advance Sadachika told me we would take a cab since “We would be drunk after dinner.” Game on, friend. Upon arriving at the restaurant, the owner and our waitress fully decked out in kimono and traditional attire greeted us and let us to our room. We had our own dining room with the low table with the hole underneath for our feet. Very cool. Again, shoes off. Point number two for the backpacker. Dinner was around 20 courses. At the beginning, they asked me if I knew how to use chop sticks. Since I do, I told them I would be fine. I think I surprised them with my ability to eat food. They really shouldn’t have been, though. Look at me, do I look I’ve been starving for the past month? I didn’t think so. We had various soups, sushis, sashimis, eels, rices, noodles, etc etc. The food went on and on. I cannot believe I was able to stuff it all down. Even though they constantly reminded me that anything I didn’t like I did not have to eat, I had no worries. The food was excellent! We also had warm sake, cold sake, gin and beer. Sadachika and I were really putting them down. It was great. They laughed about how I was backpacking around the world but also had to carry a suit with me for occasions like this. I was, as they dubbed me, the backpacker in a suit.

Halfway through, Sadachika suggests I go to the bathroom to see what a Japanese bathroom is like. So, like a good guest, I went. As I walked down the platform to the bathroom, I notice two pairs of sandals left behind for those of us who removed our shoes. However, they were maybe size fours? I couldn’t get my feet into them, let alone walk in them, so I just went to the bathroom in my socks. I didn’t even have to use the facilities, and I had obviously seen the bathroom in my hotel room, so I just went in for a second, and then came back out. It was like I had seen in the others: toilets way too complicated for their own good. A toilet should not plug in or have a control panel, unless the control is to have someone bring you a drink. Also, there is a seat warmer. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to sit on a warm toilet seat. It feels like someone has just gotten off, and that grosses me out. The bidet and other functions are useful to some people, but I just think it is overly complicated. As I walk back to the table, the waitress sees me without the sandals. She looks momentarily horrified before she starts laughing. Following me back to the table, she tells Sadachika and his wife about my faux pas, and they all laugh.

During dinner we spoke at length about various subjects, but the most recurrent theme was my grandparents and how special they were. My dad’s dad passed away in 2004 and my dad’s mom last year, so we were able to reflect on the wonderful, kind things they had done for all of us. My grandparents were incredibly open and caring individuals, opening their home and hearts to Sadachika many years ago. It is so interesting to hear other individual’s experiences with the people you love, and being told how incredibly generous my grandparents were to Sadachika’s family just reinforced the image I have of them.

It was a very special evening for me. I was greeted with incredible generosity and hospitality by people who really didn’t know me. I had the most incredible time, and, as I looked up at the twinkling lights of Osaka through the metro window as we wound through downtown, I was reminded at how small and how kind the world can be if we just open up and let it be.

Day 24 – October 11 – Tokyo - Osaka

2009-11-16T19:53:00.000-08:00

So, JAL Airways is a superstar airline. I loved it. Now through a wonderfully efficient and pain-free customs experience. I grab my bag, which is one of the first, and I descend to the train station. Before departing the US, Heather, Robin’s lovely girlfriend, suggested I by a JapanRail pass prior to leaving the States. It is only available outside Japan, and it gives you 7-days of unlimited usage of the Japan railway system (save the Nozumi train-line). I used this to my advantage. Narita airport is far outside Tokyo, so the train into the city would have cost me a pretty penny, but this was included in the railpass. I transferred at Shinigawa station and went straight to Osaka, for a two night stay.

Honestly, I was just exhausted, so once I got to my seat and stowed my overly large backpack above me (it just fit, and all the Japanese commuters stared at me with concerned and then laughing eyes as I jammed it into the luggage hold), I passed out. The nice man next to me jammed me in the ribs once we arrived at Shin-Osaka station, my destination. I disembark, head for a cab, and get to my hotel, the Royal Rihga.

Okay, so here I have to explain a little bit about what my Osaka experience is going to be like. I have a family friend named Sadachika who lives in Osaka. He went to USC for a while and stayed with my dad’s family at the time. This was decades ago. He drove a Lotus, and from what he told me, my dad and Uncle Pat loved to see it come up the long winding driveway. It was a bright shiny sports car unlike anything in the US at that point. So, it was a big hit. Sadachika became close with my Grandfather, Mackie, and my Uncle John. So, when I knew I was going to be in Japan, my dad suggested I contact Sadachika and meet him. This happened. I emailed him, and we had a (roughly) 45-email back-and-forth to discuss if-when-how-where-why-and-any other logistics of the visit. It was painful, primarily due to the national holiday which was that weekend. Finally, we decided to have a traditional Japanese dinner of October 12 where he would pick me up at his suggested hotel, the Royal Rihga. Sadachika told me that the Emperor stays at the Rihga when he is in Osaka. Great, I’m expecting this to be cheap, not.

Upon arriving in Osaka, it was pretty late. I checked in where the staff and guests looked at me like a martian. This dirty, ruffled, backpacker is staying here? Yes, and I’ll take the complimentary mint, thank you very much. I got into my room and took a 30 minute shower to clean all the travel off of myself. I don’t care how short one’s overnight flight is, or how nice one flies, after sleeping in one’s normal cloths on a small reclining chair in close proximity to 300 other travelers from a humid climate, that traveler is going to smell bad upon disembarking the aircraft. Now, factor in that I had also taken THREE flights (Phu Quoc – Saigon, Saigon – Bangkok, Bangkok – Tokyo) and two trains (Narita – Tokyo, Tokyo – Osaka), and you have yourself, one cranky, smelly American backpacker. But I like think of it as Freedom-stink. So I showered, put on fresh cloths, and walked downstairs out the front door.

The hotel was in close proximity to the convention center and art museum, so I decided to have lunch/dinner. I walked down the street and across the river to a relatively deserted area of town which was most likely the business district. Being Sunday, and all, most shops were closed. I walked into a restaurant which had and bunch of “#1” signs all over the place, assuming that this place must be good. The restaurant was long and thin, with a long stainless steel counter and several stools attached. There was a chef behind the counter with his back to the door, watching a television gameshow. I asked, “Hello! Are you open?” He turned around, startled, and cocked his head at me. Obviously not understanding what I said, he just nodded his head vigorously. I sat at the counter, and he had a puzzled look on his face, pointing to the door. Being equally puzzled, I made eating motions with my hands. He nodded again, and pointed at the door. So, dejected, I started to walk out when I noticed what looked like a cigarette dispenser to my left. Actually, it had pictures of food and a coin slot. Wait… I was supposed to put the correct amount of money into the machine, pick a dish, and bring the receipt to the chef. What? Is pointing the same damn thing on a laminated sheet at the counter too difficult? The chef has no ability to multitask? He doesn’t want to get his hands dirty with money? Whatever, I’ll pick the spicy looking one with chicken and noodles, which he made in front of me. After about 95 seconds, my dish is in front of me, piping hot. It was delectable. Not really spicy, but very flavorful. First meal in Japan, a success!

It was about 7pm by this point, so I decided to walk around for a bit. The city was absolutely dead, being a Sunday with a national holiday the following day. There were tall buildings with bright lights, but nothing that was too different from Midtown Manhattan. I decided that it had been a long day, and I felt that giving the Emperor approved bed an extra-long testing this evening would not be a sad way to spend my first evening in Japan. It was also my first evening anywhere without the camaraderie of Mr Bot-Miller, so I didn’t have that friendly word of encouragement to rally. Oh well, I don’t feel bad about crashing at 10pm. Tomorrow should be interesting!

Random Musings – Travel Buddies

2009-11-16T19:49:00.000-08:00

I was incredibly fortunate to have a travel buddy as fantastic as Robin. He was accommodating, friendly, outgoing, and, most importantly, flexible. We have similar interests, which make travel easier (I want to go look at t-shirts! I want to scale vertical wall faces! No one is going to be happy.). We both wanted to do more active things, like hike or kayak, and the natural scenery was more important than city skylines and skybars. We had a couple of drunken adventures and a couple of calm days on the beach. We laughed, a lot. Whether it was about the random circumstances we were under or a miscommunication that was hilarious, we laughed. There were no fights, there were no obstinate shrugs. There was no malicious comment muttered under one’s breath. This says more about our abilities to get along with other, than anything else, but to me, it reinforced my opinion that Robin is an incredibly unique and special friend. Traveling was more fun with him there.

As I move on in this journey across the globe, I won’t have the companion footprints following beside me, but I know that at certain moments, I’ll turn to my left and reach out to give him a fist bump or say “that’s what she said,” and wait for his chuckle or sigh. There won’t be someone to say, “let’s go bowling” or “bikes!” at the right time. But, email will allow me to shoot him a message and say, this is what you’re missing, or, this is what you’d love. Damn, I went to this vegetarian restaurant cause I knew you’d want to go, but then I tried to order chicken and they looked at me with undisguised disgust.

Thanks for being an incredibly fun buddy along the way. Thanks for keeping me out of trouble and keeping me in-line. Most importantly, thank you for not allowing me to buy that BeerLaos tank top, no matter how hot and humid it was outside. It would have been a terrible decision.

Asia misses you. And so does YumYum.

Day 23 – October 10 – Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam – Tokyo, Japan

2009-11-16T19:47:00.000-08:00

Today is more about travel and changes than anything else. We fly to Saigon together, and then I go to Tokyo via Bangkok. Robin goes to Dallas via Tokyo.

We get our things together and take a final look around our Fisherman’s Hut. What a great room! We laugh about Robin’s broken wooden step as I reach down with my foot to get to the next one, luggage in hand, and break the next board! Holy crap! We ruined this place! We had another wonderful breakfast on the veranda, watching the gray clouds roll in towards the island.

We took the car to the airport, where Robin shot off to look for his painting. There it was! Just as our friend at the Mango Bay had said. So, after Robin took possession of the precious artifact, we checked our bags and waited an hour or so for our flight. In Saigon, we had several hours to wait for our respective flights. We waited in the airport lounge, writing and reading. We each had a sandwich, normal airport fare. I posted a few letters/postcards. It was nice to get those off.

After the allotted time, it was finally time to say goodbye. I gave him a hearty hug, and he gave me some words of luck and encouragement. There will be more fun journeys in the future, I am sure!

AirAsia flight from Saigon to Bangkok, wonderful! Nice new planes, leather seats, plenty of legroom, I have to say, I was pleased. Then a dash through customs in Bangkok where I checked in for my JAL flight to Tokyo. I am SO happy I bucked up for the Business Class around the world ticket. Having the dedicated line at the airport, along with the larger checked baggage allocation, has proven indispensable. Also, I get to catch up on films I haven’t seen (Transformers 2 – terrible, Angels and Demons – just bad). The flight to Tokyo is a red-eye, so I go to bed now, hoping to away in a developed, futuristic country with potable water coming from the faucet.

Day 22 – October 9 – Phu Quoc Island

2009-11-16T19:40:00.000-08:00

It poured most of today. Robin and I both had things to do, reading or writing or packing. We had breakfast and lunch at the hotel, which was great. Again, the fish and the fruit were great, I was very happy. Since being in Asia, I have tried various different types of jams and spreads that they give us, most of which have names in the local language which I don’t understand. They can be dark black with seeds or bright red and smooth. Most have been good, some have been near vomit-inducing. The hotel restaurant had two, one was fantastic, the other, vomit-worthy. So we stuck to the good stuff. Most of the morning was spent sitting on the restaurant’s veranda and looking at the majestic view. The storms rolling across the sea to the island were very interesting to watch, with bolts of lightening hitting the water sporadically.

Eventually we moved back to the cabin. Robin was walking down the stairs to grab something when one of the wooden slats which constituted a stair broke beneath him, causing him to almost fall face first into the dirt and mud. It seems that the volume of water that had fallen in such a small amount of time had taken its toll on the stairs, soaking it to the point of failure. Only a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things I think. We went about our day sitting on our deck, watching the storm, reading books, and writing. I was actually very pleased with our day. At lunch, we returned to the restaurant, where the woman who had checked us in had some interesting news. We had told her about Robin’s lost painting the day before, and she had called the hotel. As it happens, she used to work there and was friendly with the staff. Robin’s painting had been found and would be waiting for us the following day at the airport. Awesome! Wow, this place really was fantastic. Lunch consisted of fish and chicken with stir fry vegetables and rice. It was very tasty. We sat at the restaurant for most of the waning afternoon until dinnertime.

This was Robin and my final dinner. It had a dual feeling: excitement and sadness. There I was, losing my travel buddy, but I was about to begin a second journey, in effect. I’ll dwell on Robin’s awesomeness as a travel buddy later. This was a time for us to relive our adventure. So, we played a game of 3 questions. I have posted the video below, but here is a rough paraphrasing of our conversation, also.

Question 1: Favorite Guide

Robin: The Tam Coc anger management issue guide whose name we cannot remember. Robin really liked this guide for a variety of reasons. He got upset at everyone when they got upset at him for being a bad guide. The tour was not actually going as anyone had expected, so, obviously, some people were pissed off. This guide got back at them by getting angry at them. Then, Robin also liked how the guide and I had a discussion about Nobel Laureate Paul Krugman’s economic theory of the high savings rate in Asia having a large impact on the ease of credit in the Western world, creating a bubble that we saw crash in 2008. Also, I told him how some religious events in the US were dictated by the lunar calendar (Easter). So, now, Robin is sure that this guide will tell all of his next tourists that Vietnam AND the US use the lunar calendar.

Kevin: Man the kayak guide in Luang Prabang. I liked Man, the LP guide, because he was racist without knowing it. He told us how the Khmu tribe was better than all the other tribes, and all the other tribes were full of stupid people. Then he told us his boss, from another tribe, was the smartest man he knew. Great. Also, he was mad that we went too fast for him!

Question 2: Funniest Moment

Robin: Laos BBQ Dance-party. Robin enjoyed the insane backroom karaoke bar that we were brought to by our Laotian friends. The fact that I got them to believe I was a DJ, the fact that I WANTED to get them to believe I was a DJ, was pretty hilarious in its own right. But then we were supposed to sing a Laos song which we were completely lost on. Then I sang the Akon song, which was awful. Yeah, pretty hilarious.

Kevin: Robin’s Chicken Video. Looking back at the videos and the pictures we have taken over the past weeks, one stuck out to me. The night we spent at Lahu Village while trekking in the north of Thailand was an interesting one. After a couple of hours of wonderfully peaceful sleep, the chickens and roosters started clucking and crowing. It was awful. Not five seconds between noises. It was loud and obnoxious. Well, Robin shot a video of all this insanity at night. Watching that video later was hilarious. After about 45 seconds of this, he says, “F it, let’s go bowling.” I think he shared all of our sentiments perfectly.

Question 3: Favorite Moment

Robin: Kayaking in Halong Bay. These are personal moments that are hard to describe. Floating underneath the stone arches in the bay, slowly gliding across the still water, kayaking was an incredible experience in the presence of such stunning beauty. It was the freedom to go and do what we wanted, coupled with the knowledge that our presence here in Vietnam was a function of our freedom to be out in the world at large. This was a time when we had something very special.

Kevin: Beach in Halong Bay. Similar to Robin’s appreciation of the kayaking section of Halong Bay, I had a fantastic moment of reflection on the beach that day. After kayaking around for 30 minutes, we found our way to a deserted stretch of beach and sat there. We didn’t speak for a while. Over the course of several weeks, there hadn’t been much quiet time between the two of us. We had gotten along so well, that there were no indignant silent moments, we never got upset with each other. So, we spoke a lot. Here, on the beach, it was a private moment, to reflect on that moment, this trip, or our lives. I took this trip to have moments like this, in exquisite beauty to put the rest of my life into perspective. I won’t bore you with my thoughts on that beach, other than to say, it was relaxing and helpful. Life is a gift, and I treasured that moment, fully.

After three questions, we listened to a little Pearl Jam, laughed about the funny moments of miscommunication or random events. We laughed about Fofie in Luang Prabang, our bowling friends in Vientiane, the drunken tourists on the Halong Bay junk, and the rain at Angkor Wat. We amazed at how we hadn’t gotten into a single fight. And we toasted to the future, cause it’s going to be a bright one. If we could withstand the wrath of angry Tam Coc guide, we can do anything! Although, I’m going to miss you, Robin. You were a great travel buddy!

Day 21 – October 8 – Hoi An – Phu Quoc Island

2009-11-07T21:52:00.000-08:00

We got picked up bright and early to go to the airport in Da Nang. We got there in plenty of time to get checked in for our flights from Da Nang to Saigon and then Saigon to Phu Quoc Island. We ate breakfast at the Da Nang airport, a baguette with melted cheese and cucumbers. It was no superb culinary dish, but it did its job, we’ll just leave it at that. Saigon airport was lackluster. We sat around reading or writing until our flight to Phu Quoc. Part of traveling this much is time spent waiting for planes, trains and automobiles, so we have mastered the art of waiting. (1) Stare at people around you. Typically, small children are amazed at seeing Westerners like us. We make funny faces or wave, and they smile or laugh. Sometimes, they freak out, which is even more fun. (2) Watch an episode on your iPod, but make sure that people can see it. 30 Rock has been a hit for me, with people looking at it funny. I doubt the humor would translate, but the bright colors, shots of the NY skyline and funny costumes seem to impress people in Asia. (3) Count your remaining passport pages and estimate remaining visas and stamps. I’m sure there will be a posting one day about passport stamps and visas in Stuff White People Like. It’s true, but I just want to make sure I don’t have to have additional pages added when there is no US consulate around. (4) Find the foreigners. Go talk to other foreigners, whether it is the weird Italian stalker lady or the overly ebullient Canadian wondering where your next stop is. They can give good advice about places they have visited. You might also spot my favorite type of foreigner, the Matching Couple. These people are typically from Germany, Austria or elsewhere in Central Europe and have on matching shirts, jackets or shoes. Sometimes you are really lucky and they have the same shirt and matching shorts/skirts. It is quite something to see. (5) Start translating the weird characters in front of you. I now know the characters for Beijing and Nanjing (Bei means “North,” Nan means “South” and Jing means “Capital”). This will help in the future.

Once we arrived in Phu Quoc we were met by many people hawking their hotels. We had a hotel in mind, Mango Bay, but were slightly put off by the price of $70 a night. That was a bit north of our budgets. So we went with one of the guys pushing their hotel and saw the rooms. Pretty bleak if you ask me. Most of the larger hotels are on a strip of beach making it relatively simple to check out several in one go. The price for a “beach view” room was about $40 a night. There really was no beach view and the place looked like it had been closed for the season. We asked the front desk to call us a taxi and we went to Mango Bay. As the cab pulled up, Robin noticed he didn’t have his pipe and painting, he had left it in the shuttle van from the airport which had just left to go back to the airport. We got the phone number of the hotel and told them to please look for it.

A 25 minute drive down a muddy, bumpy road brought us to Mango Bay. It was not in the same area as the rest of the hotels. Mango Bay is an eco-resort which uses recycled materials or reclaimed wood for construction materials. Most of the rooms are stand-alone structures, either made from wood or compacted earth. It was a beautiful place. We got a room that looked out to the ocean, a real view. It was what they called a Fisherman’s Room, a stand-alone hut with four wooden steps up to a deck and the room. The room was great, with an outdoor bathroom and shower. As for outdoor bathroom and shower, I didn’t know what to think about it, but I did really like it in the end. We had a deck with two lounge chairs so we could crash there if the weather was not cooperating. We dropped our stuff, changed into board shorts, and quickly booked our return flight to Saigon at the computer in the restaurant. We walked down the beach to a nice area with lounge chairs spaced generously apart. There was one other person within eyesight, and a couple of workers who were fixing up the outdoor bar which was going to open soon. The sky was beginning to darken as ominous clouds moved in and threatened to inundate us with rain, so we lay on the lounge chairs to enjoy the rapidly darkening sun. After about two hours, I jumped into the water. It was as warm as a bathtub. There were some small waves, about two to three feet, and the water was crystal clear. After about 15 minutes it started to rain, so we packed it up for the day.

Dinner was at their restaurant on the patio. We sat just to the edge of the overhang so we could get the best view of the water. There are maybe 18 rooms on the resort, so there were very few people there, and we were two of only 7 at the restaurant. There was a hippie French couple, the sisters from the UK and an American guy who I will discuss later. The view from the restaurant was spectacular. The waves crashed on the rocks below us, but the waves were just out of reach of spraying us. Kind of like the outdoor area at Moonshadows in Malibu, except there was no glass. Out across the dark sea, a series of purple lights dotted the horizon creating a surreal vision. We didn’t know if that was light coming from mainland Cambodia or Vietnam, so we asked a waitress. She looked at us a little funny, cocking her head to the side and saying, “The lights over there?” pointing to the horizon. Yes, we said, Vietnam or Cambodia? No, she replied, those are the fishing ships. It is incredible to think that there are hundreds of fishing boats out there creating what was almost an Aurora Borealis above the sea. We saw some go in and some go out, thinking that they had been factories, but instead, they were boats coming or going over the horizon. Dinner was fantastic, all of the food served is organic, and the fish was amazing. I had fish skewers and was very happy with it. The drinks weren’t half bad, either.

After dinner we sat at the bar for a while, speaking with the bartender and the American guy. The American guy had been working with a Vietnamese factory in Saigon to design and built furniture for hotel chains. He was quite interesting, working with one partner to develop beds, desks, entertainment centers, etc, for large hotel chains who have to buy bulk furniture for renovations and new builds. Since Robin and I had worked on hotels for the past few years, we had a good conversation with the guy. After being in Saigon for almost three weeks, he decided to fly to Phu Quoc for the weekend to relax before heading back to the States. I would definitely support that decision.

We got back to the room and fell asleep right away. It was a long day of travel and hotel searching, but we knew we had made the right call with Mango Bay.

Day 20 – October 7 – Hoi An

2009-11-07T21:46:00.000-08:00

Another day in Hoi An. Today was mainly about shopping: suits and paintings. We walked across the bridge to the Old City Center and had lunch, then walked around the historic center again. We went back to the artist street and went to the store with the large hut paintings in a modern style (Art Gallery Cuong). After looking around the gallery again, Robin negotiated the price for the painting to $220. It is a beautiful large painting, very intriguing. Robin is moving to a loft in Dallas when he gets back to the US, and he has a place picked out that he is going to put the picture. Honestly, I was a bit sad that he bought it, cause I would have gotten it if he didn’t, but he saw it first, so he got first call. I continued to look around and saw a couple that I thought were interesting, but I wanted to think about it for a while before making the purchase.

We then went to the suit shop that YumYum had suggested (Tuong Cloth Shop on 65 Tran Hung Dao Street, in case anyone is going to Hoi An anytime soon). Inside two women, one named Ling and the other named My (pronounced “me,” she was YumYum’s cousin) helped Robin and I pick out the suits we wanted. They gave us several large catalogues to look through in order to find the color, pattern, style, etc. Robin picked out two suits and a couple of shirts. I got two suits, also, a blue pinstripe one and a grey three-piece suit. I decided that for an additional $10, it could either be a good buy or a good joke. Honestly, we had no idea if the suits were going to turn out well or not. The samples looked good enough, but we were asking for ours in a matter of hours, so it could be crappy with such a quick turn around. Eh, for such low prices, it is worth the risk. It might be helpful to have a suit around for later in the trip. Ling and My then took our measurements. And, I mean, really took our measurements. It was like getting a physical. At least they should fit.

We were told to come back in three hours for a fitting, so we walked down the street to grab a drink or a snack. We walked by a restaurant called Streets (17 Le Loi Street). According to the information in the restaurant and on their website (www.streetsinternational.org), Streets is an NGO which brings street children into an 18-month cooking and hospitality program to prepare them for international restaurants and hotels. They use the profits from the restaurant to subsidize the housing and training of the students. We thought it was great, and we particularly loved the Vietnamese Iced Coffee. It was spectacular. They also brought out some chips and a peanut sauce which had just the right amount of spice. It was great. We really enjoyed the people and had the opportunity to speak with the manager about the program. Sounds like it has been very successful thus far.

After lunch we walked back to the gallery. I really liked a couple of the pieces and thought I should just choose between them. So we walked back to the gallery, again, and I looked through the pieces, again. Robin was being quite the sport about this. Finally, I was between two, a street scene of Hoi An and a river scene with floating houses reminiscent of Halong Bay. So the artist brought the two down and put them next to each other. Actually, they looked really good together, the colors were complementary and they were the same sizes, so I asked our artist friend how much for the two of them. He thought a moment… $200. Really? $200 for both? Done! This was an easy decision, although I won’t be able to hang the paintings in my apartment in New York (no space), they will look really good in the same room facing each other when I do get a bigger place. And my experiences in Hoi An and Halong Bay have been exceedingly positive, so they will only evoke pleasant memories. The artist rolled up the paintings and put them into a pipe for easy transport. My dad always said he liked to get a biography on the artist when he buys art, so I asked the artist if he had one. That query sailed right over his head. I tried a little bit longer, using hand signs… how does one sign ‘biography?’ Yeah, didn’t work, but I got his email and will try to have a Vietnamese friend translate this for me and then he can send me a digital bio. We thanked the artist and his sister for their help, complimented him on the rest of his work, and headed back to the clothing store.

Now to see if the fabrics we picked and the measurements they took worked out. They did! Score! Actually, the suit fit perfectly, I was very impressed. Also, the two shirts I eventually picked were great, also. The suits have silk lining in dark blue, which turned out not to be too tacky. I was definitely channeling Tim Neslen in picking out the lining for the suit. Brooks Brothers would never line their suits in deep red, but that is definitely what Tim sports around the office. Okay, so I can’t pull off Neslen styles, so I went for blue, and it worked. The vest also worked out nicely. Overall, I was very pleased. They also gave us pocket squares for each of our suits. They had some final stitching to do, so they told us to return in an hour or two. We dropped by the shoe place where Robin had made two shoe orders, loafers, one brown and one black. They had totally screwed up on the sizing, so they were going to have to push it to get him new shoes in two hours when we returned for our suits.

We returned to Streets to have dinner, which was great. There was a calamari dish that was great and I had some ribs which were perfect. We finished off with a couple of iced coffees, I think they thought we were insane in our appreciation of the coffee drink. We enjoyed the meal and then picked up the suits and shoes. Unfortunately, Robin’s brown loafers were an awful color, similar to a dried out cow paddie. There was no salvaging of these shoes. The black loafers were great, exactly what he wanted. So, after four suits, four shirts, and two pairs of shoes, only one pair of shoes was a failure with the rest of our purchases turning out better than expected (I’ll get back to you in a couple of months after wearing the suits and letting you know if they held up). We went to get a night cap at a Western bar that had paintings of Bono and Che on the walls. A couple of beers later, we were shooting emails to my roommate Santiago about Oktoberfest in 2010. Hey, why not? Travel begets travel. When a group of about 25 Japanese tourists invaded the bar and our area, we paid and left.

Hoi An, a success.

Day 19 – October 6 –Hoi An

2009-10-28T12:21:00.000-07:00

We woke up to another four or five hours on the train. The trip from Hanoi to Hoi An took about 14 hours, getting us into Hoi An around 1pm. We split a car with our two friends to Hoi An, since the train actually drops you off in the larger city of Da Nang. We picked up two additional girls and made our way into the city at 50 Dong each (I just like being able to reference Vietnamese money… Dong). The girls wanted to get dropped off at a hotel they found in their book, but the driver instead shuttled them into a different hotel. Everything in this part of the world is a hustle job. Everyone gets a cut from the driver who gets gas coupons or a gift for taking an unsuspecting tourist to a souvenir shop or a guide who passes that same tourist to an expensive restaurant in return for a meal. These things are fine, as long as you know how to work within the framework. We knew which hotel we wanted to try, so we forced the driver to take us there. We negotiated our rate for the hotel on the river down from $45 to $20 a night. It was clean, except for a small ant infestation in the bathroom. Hoi An had just been pummeled by Typhoon Ketsana a week before, with the entire historical city center underwater, however the Vietnamese government sent in the army and less than a week later, after the river subsided, the city was open to tourism once again. Lucky for us, they were desperate to have some income, so we were getting discounts left, right and center.

After settling in and having the front desk trip a couple of blown fuses for us, we walked into the old town. We were starting to redline in terms of lack of food, so we walked to Brothers Café which happened to be one of the nicest places in the city. Located along the river bank, the service was top-notch and the banana-orange smoothie was awesome. We also split some fried wontons which were great. We have been told that there are three very traditional dishes from Hoi An: fried wontons, “white roses” which are dumplings, and a beef noodle soup. First one down!

We walked along the river bank past the markets which were bustling at about 5:00pm. The food stalls were beginning to close up shop for the day but the souvenir and clothing stalls were still open with shopkeepers grabbing at us as we walked by: “Mister, Mister! Come see my shop, please! Come into my shop… you buy something!” We have gotten pretty good at this. We just stiff arm them as we walk by, not making eye contact, and continually shake our heads. It has worked as well as one could hope. In the center of Hoi An is the UNESCO World Heritage area, the historic city of Hoi An. It really is beautiful, with Chinese influenced architecture. The Japanese Bridge, which spans about 30 feet, is not as interesting in life as it is made out to be, however. It is pretty uninspiring after a couple of days in the awesome natural beauty of Halong Bay or the inspiring majesty of Angkor Wat. Wait… am I becoming jaded? Crap. Let’s think back to something that will put me back in that mindset which constantly moved by new sights… Remember all the 800-year old architecture and various colonial remnants in Santa Monica? No, neither did I. Okay, thanks, perspective, for returning to me. Japanese Bridge, cool!

Past the Japanese Bridge is a street full of art vendors. I am skeptical. These are all probably from the same art mill based on the Chinese boarder making fake Van Goghs. But no. We walked until we found the last painter and started looking there. He had three types of paintings. The man inside claimed to be the artist responsible for the lacquer paintings and oil landscapes. His friend, he said, did the surreal oils. Actually, everything in the shop was fantastic, and Robin and I both took shinings to separate pieces. After we got the prices (about $300 for large 4 ft by 3 ft paintings), we told the man we would sleep on it and come back. As we walked on, my skepticism was nagging at me, so we decided to stop in several shops on the way back to the city center. All the shops had different artistic styles and themes. I was very relieved. I could actually buy some of this art feeling good about its authenticity. We stepped into another shop which had traditional subjects, like huts on the water and Hoi An street scenes, in a more modern style. Robin and I both really liked the one centered at the entrance just as we walked in. God, I hope we don’t come down to both wanting the same one! We got some pricing from the artist and decided to grab dinner.

Dinner was in a restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet, or at least we thought. Turns out they were just using the same name as the authentic Lonely Planet restaurant across the street! No matter, food was fine. Nothing great. We both tried the “White Rose” and noodle dishes. Neither Robin nor I was taken by the noodle plate. In fact, it was borderline awful. Eh, what you doing to do? We did like the scenery from our second floor perch, though. The moon was rising over the French colonial old city with a deep red color. It was striking. The whole scene was a nice welcome to a Vietnamese city other than Hanoi. I enjoyed the change of pace and the calm, welcoming people. Our waitress, YumYum, liked us and suggested a place to get suits made. She told us that the places around the main old city are too pricey and of poor quality. I’m more interested in finding the better quality, we can negotiate price from there. YumYum also gave us some price points on paintings ($150-250 for 3-4 ft square) if we want to go back to our artist friends.

After dinner, we walked around a bit and took some photos of the river, such a peaceful vista with lights shedding soft light along the still water which had caused so much havoc and destruction just days earlier. One could still see trees uprooted and laying strewn across the river bank. Dirt coated the streets and sidewalks, and most restaurants and bars had some visible damage. One bar we went to had no music because the hurricane’s flood waters had damaged the speakers and stereo system, but we were fine with the circumstances. We ordered a couple of rounds of drinks, and I broke out my iPod to place some music through the integrated speaker. The waitress came up to us, we were sitting on the balcony looking across the water to the old city, and I apologized for having my music on that loud. She said, no no, I was coming over to listen! So, see, I told you I was a DJ!

A good day.

Day 18 – October 5 – Halong Bay – Hanoi

2009-10-28T12:13:00.000-07:00

We awoke early this morning to participate in Tai Chi class. We went to the deck where the Tai Chi master lead us in an hour of Tai Chi. It was fantastic. Just slow, meditative movements with the early morning sun shining over across the waking Bay. Joining us this morning were the Aussies. I had this picture in my mind that those in the Floating Village were watching us, Westerners on the deck of a luxury ship, practicing Tai Chi and laughing to themselves about the absurd spectacle. We had fun, which was all that mattered.

Breakfast was a simple affair with the four Aussies. The rest of our friends had left earlier that morning for the day boats. After breakfast we were told by OCAC that we were to go to the Surprise Cave, but Robin and I decided to stage a small mutiny. We were not going to go to the Surprise Cave, and instead, enjoy our waning hours on the boat up on the deck. We enjoyed laying out on the lounge chairs, soaking in the sun on our last morning in Halong Bay. The silence was exquisite, we were finally free of crying babies, pushy OCAC and any other distractions from the view and sun. It was a perfect morning.

When the Aussies returned, we packed up, had our bags outside our cabins, and waited up on the deck for our return to port. It was a solemn affair. Tom and Carol were finishing a little more than three months of traveling and the rest of us dreaded a return to vans and traffic and loud noises. Around 11am, it was time for us to say goodbye to the Indochina Sails II, Froggy and OCAC (yet, I had no tears to shed for these new friends, just time to move on), and we were on our way to the pier restaurant, where the weekend had begun. I gave Carol a hug goodbye, and she gave me her and Tom’s contact info, inviting me to stay with them in Australia if I had time. That was very kind of her! If I can make it to the Sunshine Coast, I’ll definitely look them up. Robin and I waited for a little while, then got on our Handspan bus back to Hanoi. It was pretty full, and there was a family with two children who were going nuts. Absolutely off the wall. It appeared that the kids had made friends with some other children in a British family, and the British kid’s dad was trying desperately to calm the children down. Sit here, watch this. Here is a book. Look at the camera… on and on because the parents of the other family were completely oblivious to their own rowdy children. So, I plugged in. Nothing else to do in that situation, right? I listened to some good tunes, fell asleep, and rode back to the soothing car horns and insane traffic of Hanoi.

Back in Hanoi around 5pm, we had little to do before the train left at 11:00pm. So we went to the vegetarian restaurant adjacent to the Handspan office, Tamarind, and had lunch/dinner. We started pounding Vietnamese iced coffees which were oh so good. They put a bit of condensed milk in it, which lightens the taste of the heavy, dark coffee very well. I looked over at Robin, who had this look of wonder and then absolute joy. He calls over the waitress and asks her if the massage sign is correct: 90 minute massage for $20. She says yes. Well, thanks, lady, you just made Robin’s month. I decided to sit back and write a bit, look into places in Hoi An, while Robin got his massage. As much as Robin loves his massages, I’m indifferent. While he was upstairs, this woman looked at me and said, “Dan? Dan! Hey, I knew I’d see you here!” I looked back down at my computer, assuming she was referencing a man named Dan near me. But no, for some reason, I look like a Dan to her. I tell her, no, sorry, I’m not Dan. No, she cries, you’re the photographer! No, just because I have a camera doesn’t make me a photographer. Turns out, her name is Elena, she is Italian, and she has been traveling for quite a while. We spoke for a bit, and after she told me her next destination, Hue, I told her I was going to Hoi An. She suggested we meet up in Hoi An or Saigon. Wow, Dan really has a fan. She has to leave for her train, she’s taking the earlier 7pm train to Hue, but she tells me how she’ll find me in Hoi An. Fun! A potential stalker!

Later, after another two iced coffees, Robin and I leave for the train station. It is a large station which is devoid of pretty much any convenience except for a concession stand (slim pickings) and a bathroom (Robin pretty much passed out after being in there for 60 seconds, apparently hygiene is not a concern). We got to our train, which was full of tourists. We got the middle of the three classes which had four bunks to a cabin with a minimal cushion and blanket on each bed. We shared the cabin with a couple from Lijang, China. He was British, working for an architectural firm, and she was Chinese. They had decided to beat it out of China during the 60th Anniversary of Independence festivities since it was so nuts. There was a full week off of work and school for everyone. Parades and parties, fireworks and shows, but they just wanted to go to Halong Bay and Hoi An. They were very interesting, a nice couple, and a pleasure to share the cabin. She did not complain once about the Spartan set-up and slept most of the time. Robin and I read or wrote. No worries.

Day 17 – October 4 – Halong Bay

2009-10-28T11:54:00.000-07:00

I slept really well last night. Maybe it was the gentle rocking of the boat, or the comfortable mattress, or even the several beers I had right before going to bed. Whatever it was, it was much appreciated. Although we haven’t had a complete dog of a hotel/hostel since we began, save that chicken/rooster debacle on the Burmese boarder, our sleep has been inconsistent, which makes a good nights sleep that much more appreciated. We bid farewell to the 1-night crew, which was most of the boat. Supposedly, yesterday while at Titop Island, the crew was unable to raise the anchor fully, so we are now effectively dragging a half-extended anchor behind us shutting out all shallow areas. Therefore, they are going to be switching us to the Indochina Sails II, supposedly “identical” to our current boat. I’m not so sure, but, hey, what is the alternative?

After breakfast we transfer to an entirely different day boat. It comprises two levels, with six lunch tables and large comfortable couches inside and a deck with six lounge chairs and two umbrellas. The sun was out in force today, with no clouds or mist like yesterday. Tom, Carol, Robin and I immediately made claim on four of the lounge chairs, moving them here or there to fully utilize the sunshine. When we booked the trip, we were primarily interested in a full day of kayaking, hopefully without a guide. We just wanted to explore the bay, paddling aimlessly and discovering hidden places on our own. With OCAC on the original Indochina Sails I with the departing crew, we had Froggy, a woman who had a distinct frog-like voice when speaking in English. She also did not speak English all that proficiently, allowing us to do what we wanted by ignoring her. It was pretty sweet. After sailing to a more remote and deserted part of Halong Bay, we all jumped into tandem kayaks, no sit-on-top like home or Luang Prabang. The six of us, along with Froggy and a porter, paddled to a small cave about 10-15 minutes from the boat. We climbed out of the kayaks, grabbed flashlights and ventured into the darkness of the Fairy Cave. It is called such due to the glittering stone stalactites hanging from the ceiling. In fact, if one knocks on a stalactite, it makes this hollow BONGGGGG. It is quite cool. In the main cavern, which was relatively large at 50 feet long by 25 feet wide, the youths of the area hold a party. They place candles everywhere, on the ground, on rocks, clinging to walls… it must be an incredible sight. The last party wasn’t too long ago because there was still confetti strewn across the ground. We wandered around for about 15 minutes, crawling through tunnels and scrambling up walls. We had a good time. After, we jumped back in the kayaks. Froggy told us we could swim around the boat if we wished, to which Robin and I decided to just kayak around for a little longer. We explored the area around the Fairy Cave, finding some hidden, secluded coastlines and beaches. We thoroughly enjoyed the quiet time to sit and reflect about the amazing trip we are fortunate enough to take.

Back onboard, we both did some diving from the boat, having a great time in the water. It was so warm, like high 70 degrees. I mean, it really was like bath water. Tom and Carol were having a difficult time asking Froggy to take a picture of them from the boat (yes, I am sure that is a strange and unique request on this type of trip), so Robin went ahead and did the photographer thing for them. We ventured on a little farther before it was time for kayaking again. By this time it was about 10:30am, and we were given free range to kayak anywhere we wanted before returning to the boat for lunch. Robin and I jumped in our first, wanted to spend as much time in the water as possible. There were three or four small beaches scattered around this part of the bay, but we wanted to paddle over to the other islands, away from our day boat. We found two cool arches to kayak through, several other beaches and islands. We slowly made our way to one of the larger beaches near the boat, the one that none of our fellow passengers decided to inhabit. We pulled the kayak onto the beach and then sat down at the waterline. The waves were small, rhythmically slapping at our feet. Throughout the trip, we have had personal time, either writing in our journals, or just sitting and looking at the changing landscapes before us. This was a very beautiful moment, and I don’t think either of us had any words which would add to it. We sat in silence, listening to the waves, to the birds, to the distant sounds of the boats… The view was spectacular, a singularly beautiful place on this planet. We could not see another human. The beach was unspoilt, probably very few tourists make it here. You know those montages in movies where an easy instrumental is playing in the background as the camera slowly pans across a deserted beach while the contemplative protagonist crosses his arms, lowers his head, and then skips a stone across the smooth, glassy water as he comes to an epiphany? That was our afternoon, except there are two protagonists, and Robin was MUCH better at skipping stones. I don’t know what is in store for me the rest of the trip, but this could definitely be the defining moment. I’m waiting to see what China and New Zealand have in store for me, also.

Back to the boat for lunch where the three groups sat at different tables. Lunch was good, noodles and fish. Very yummy. After lunch we were told that we only had about an hour to an hour and a half of time before we headed back to the large boat to meet the new group. We all decided to lounge on the upper deck, getting sun and enjoying the peace and quiet before meeting potentially more children. The atmosphere of the day boat has been worlds apart from yesterday, relaxing, quiet and free of OCAC. But it is not to last. Time to get back on the large ship.

Around 4:00pm we were back on the large boat, with exactly the same cabin as we had on Indochina Sails I. The only difference is the smell. Although there is a hint of mothball to the whole place, this boat is slightly nicer: newer wood, fresh paint and cleaner restaurant. Before the rest of the passengers embarked, we thought it would be cool to get massages. $30 for 45 minutes. Since I didn’t see anyone who remotely resembled Uncle Fester, I decided to go for it. I have now confirmed, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am not a massage guy. I like the neck and back massage, even the hand massage, but all the rest of it I could do without. And this massage, the Vietnamese girl did the Swedish kung-fu chop on my back, which was definitely not my deal. I like the digging massage. Robin, on the other hand, really likes his massages. Good for him, this is a good place to get a long, cheap massage.

About an hour after the massages the new passengers decided to come out of their cabins and join us on the deck. Two young couples, mid-30s. One couple, from Vancouver, had a 3-year old daughter, and the other couple, the wife from Vancouver and the husband from the UK but they were ex-pats in Singapore, had two sons, 4 and 2-years old. The guy from Vancouver was a triathlete and the guy from the UK worked for Credit Suisse. I was trying to do some journaling in the restaurant when the children and the CS dude came up, yelling and screaming their heads off. But, they were very cute. I started talking to the CS dude, who happened to have worked at Goldman a couple of years ago in interest rate research and strategies. Interesting conversation. Then our Aussie friend Carol came in and we all chatted for a while. We all sat upstairs on the deck to watch the sunset before dinner. After a fine dinner, Robin and I decided we wanted go squid fishing. Apparently Heather, Robin’s girlfriend, did this a couple of months ago and said that she fished for two hours, wait after everyone else had left, before catching one. So, obviously, Robin and I felt that we needed to catch a squid, too. The only problem, was that it was still the Full Moon Festival, therefore there was a full moon, and squid are attracted to light. The way to catch a squid is to sit near the light at the stern of the boat and hang a bamboo pole with a line and hook, baitless, and bob that pole up and down. Eventually, says OCAC, a squid might latch on. So Robin and I sat there, beers in hand, and fished for squid for about two hours. As we were out there, the Aussies, Carol and Tom, the four newbies from Vancouver/UK and another couple, one Egyptian the other Chinese, slowly joined our team of squishermen. The final three, the two wives and the CS guy, stayed the longest. We had a really fun conversation about life as ex-pats, Japan and Singapore. Both couples had brought baby monitors and fought argued amicably with their husbands about checking on them when there was crying. We had a lot of fun discussing investment banking and the state of the world economy. After about 2 to 3 hours, we decided that the squid fishing was not going to end successfully. We had fun chatting up our new friends and decided to go to bed. Tomorrow we bid farewell to Halong Bay.

Day 16 – October 3 – Hanoi - Halong Bay

2009-10-10T07:26:00.000-07:00

Our experience today has been completely different from that of yesterday. All positive. We checked out, got to Handspan and our van was perfectly on time. Besides Robin and me, we had to Spaniards, an Italian and a Scot. All perfectly nice people, all slept for the two hour ride. Perfect. The only interesting aspect was the beginning where the Handspan coordinator gave us a discussion on history and life in Vietnam, in general, and Hanoi, in particular. There were several interesting remarks, particularly her repeated insistence on the desire for the Vietnamese to look forward, not into the past, since their future was bright. Then she pointed to the Dragon Bridge outside of Hanoi which remains un-renovated since its bombing in the Vietnam War as a symbol of American and foreign aggression. Okay, fine. Keep going. Then she asked us all our names, our hometowns, and the thing we have been most impressed by in Vietnam. I’ll start. I’m Kevin, from California, and I am most impressed by your ability to operate without a coherent transportation strategy on your congested motorways. Next. I’m Robin, from Minnesota, and I am most impressed by the sheer volume of scooters in your cities. We literally cannot think for all the honking. The coordinator: “Thank you for your appreciation for our great country.” Nope, don’t think you got it, but we’ll just be moving on. Then, the finale. “Robin and Kevin,” she asked, “do you feel bad about coming to Vietnam? Did you worry about coming here?” Umm. We looked at each other, a little puzzled by the directness of the question. Obviously, the recent history of Vietnam was clear to us, and we know there are conflicting feelings among the populaces of both countries: desires to progress beyond the conflict, enduring animosity, feelings of guilt and sorrow. Being of the generation immediately after the war, my feelings are shaped by those from the previous generation I speak with about the conflict. That and Forrest Gump. My desire is to learn more about the country and its people, which is why I came to Vietnam. Our tour does not visit sites only related to the War, although the Hanoi Hilton and the Cu Chi tunnels in Saigon are on the itinerary, but also the UNESCO World Heritage sites of Hoi An and Halong Bay. We want to speak with the people of Vietnam beyond their war memories. How is my generation doing in Vietnam. Of course, the Handspan coordinator’s English was sub par at best, so we told her we were conflicted, obviously, but had moved on. She agreed, told us to look forward, at her people’s bright future, and enjoy ourselves. Finally on the same page, we arrived at Halong Bay.

We stepped out of the van and onto a dock with about 6 other Westerners. There was a small waiting area inside a restaurant-like room for passengers of Indochina Sails, but we were the sole remaining passengers so we made our way straight to the pier. At the end of the dock was a large thatch umbrella with “Enjoy your Trip” on it, looking deceptively like the font on an Absolut Vodka bottle. Fitting, perhaps. Our cabin on the boat, Indochina Sails I (yes, there are 3 versions of the ship, which will be of interest later), was fantastic. There are 15 cabins, usually maxing the boat out at 30 passengers, but this ship had 4 additional children staying with parents, pushing up our crew to 34 Chinese, Vietnamese, Aussies (Patricia, Camille, Carol and Tom), a Brit (Nick) and your Americans. Beds were comfortable, second level of the boat (we could open the windows without fear of waves drenching us), rain shower, good amount of space. It was awesome. Lunch was good with both of our favorites being the pumpkin soup. After lunch we explored the ship a bit before the Manager of the boat asked us, politely but firmly, to join them on the tender to go to Titop Island for some relaxing and hiking. This became a running issue with the Manager, he had to make sure we all joined for every activity at the exact same time. He needed to run the ship efficiently, so I named him Oh Captain A Captain (because he really wasn’t my captain, and OCAC for short is better). Robin and I got on the tender with OCAC only after he had someone phone our room when we were thirty seconds late. Seriously, dude, we need to grab our cameras, just chill a second. We get to Titop Island, which turns out to be an island with a tall cliff jutting vertically out of the water like all islands in Halong Bay, but this one has a steep path to the top. Of course, Robin and I want to climb the hill, but OCAC tells us to wait for him to gather everyone. Bite me, OCAC, it’s a staircase up to an observatory, where am I going to make a wrong turn? Help me! I can’t find the exit! After we shook him, the climb was peaceful and calm. The view from the various lookouts and the summit were amazing. Halong Bay is gorgeous. Breathtaking. Words cannot capture the majesty of cliffs reaching vertically from the water, covered in vivid green vines and trees. The bay has no waves whatsoever, so the cliffs are all reflected in the water as clearly as images in a mirror. Boats looked like ants from the summit, milling between large, rounded hills. The mist beyond cannot completely hide the limestone hills laying beneath, so they look like ghosts in the distance. We were both taken aback by the vista before us. Hopefully the photos can give a better impression of the view than I can.

By the time we had walked down the stairs to the beach, OCAC was gathering his cattle, herding them off to the tender. He looked at us, disapprovingly, and told us we were to get on the boat now. Whatever, this is a man-made beach, anyways, so I have no issue getting back the boat’s deck. On the boat, Robin and I parked ourselves on the outdoor lounge chairs, enjoying a relaxing snooze in the sun. It was great. Effectively, from the initial flight to Bangkok until this point, we have been running to and fro, jumping on trains, racing to airports or just trudging around towns looking for hotels, restaurants or sites. This opportunity to relax and just breathe has been so rewarding. I feel like a new man. We took photo after photo of the incredible view. I do not know how someone could get tired of looking at this calm expanse of water with great stone monuments reaching vertically towards the bright blue sky. I’m absolutely awed by this place. Then, the Chinese children. Running back and forth across the deck, screaming, pounding, falling, crying… it was mayhem. If it were not for fear of starting an international incident, I would have duct taped them to the staircase. The parents just ignored the screams coming from their offspring. Sir…sir, if you don’t quiet those brats down, I’m going to lose my mind, and you are going to lose a child to the Bay. Thankfully, OCAC came up and forced the Chinese and Vietnamese passengers to the tender for their late afternoon kayaking. See, there is a benevolent force in the universe after all.

The remaining passengers enjoyed the dying light of the sunset over the cliffs, savoring the peace and quiet. Robin and I just took photo after photo, relishing every shot. OCAC decided, you know what, during the waning rays of the sunset would be a perfect time take the tender to see a floating village. Really? Fine, I’ll go, but just because I want to go to the floating disco. There are several floating villages in Halong Bay, literally homes built on pontoons. It was fascinating to see, with lines of homes against the islands, some large, some small. There was a schoolhouse, a general store and many small rowboats cruising about trying to sell seashells and necklaces. It was quite interesting. As we made our loop around the village, the sun set, allowing the creeping darkness to envelop us completely. As the sun went down, the lights on one solitary house started to shine more brightly. I heard the tell tale sound of deep bass and tinny europop beats. Yes, it was a disco. A floating disco. And from the sounds of it, the place was damn popular. We circled the area for a few minutes longer, hoping to see some more rowboats with teenagers paddling up to the disco, but it was more dinnertime than party time, so we left.

At dinner, we invited Nick, to join us. He had been on a business trip to Bangkok and Hanoi from Manchester and decided to spend the weekend in Halong Bay. His wife was at home, most likely fuming his weekend plans. He worked for a division of Johnson and Johnson based in Irvine, so we discussed Los Angeles and California. He was hilarious, saying how he didn’t really care for LA, although they had a decent time whenever they went. He was positive about the people, about the food, well, about everything… so, what’s the issue, I asked. Damn, man, Brits need something to be upset at! Life in general, and weather in particular, is ‘shit’ in London, and I need to have something to point at and call it out. I guess LA is too easy for him. Don’t worry, there are already enough people in Los Angeles, we don’t need a couple more Brits! After dinner, Nick, Robin and I sat with the Aussies, Tom and Carol from the Sunshine Coast. They were hilarious, also, and we began buying each other drinks. It became a boisterous, loud mishmash of American and Australian accents, enough to convince the little satan children to go downstairs and watch the movie, “The Quiet American.” Ha ha, sorry, there are no quiet Americans, at least not on this boat!

It was a fantastic day, and I can only imagine tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow it is just the four Aussies and us. Try giving us orders tomorrow, cause we aren’t going to listen.

Day 15 – October 2 – Hanoi and Tam Coc (Bikes!)

2009-10-08T21:39:00.000-07:00

Today we go to Tam Coc where we ride bikes and take a boat ride on what some call the Halong Bay of the rice paddies. We did not book this one through Handspan, since we decided it was only a day trip and the one we found was less than half the price. The agency we booked through is located next to our hotel, so we just had to wake up and stumble next door at 8am. The agent hyped the trip by saying that his company actually operates the trip, so everyone will meet at our agency and go from there. Erroneous. We were the first two in the van, and we spent the next 90 minutes going around the city picking up various people. It was a veritable UN in this van. Americans, Aussies, Brits, French, Vietnamese, Chinese, Filipinos, Japanese… the only common language was English. I loved that. Watching the various Asian nationalities communicating in broken English with the French guys trying in vain to speak to people in French (“Quoi? I don’t understand you.”). The van was also only designed for 16-18 people yet they packed in 24. Now, off to Tam Coc!

Or maybe not. We were driven to Hoa Lu, the pre-Hanoi capital of Vietnam. Interesting, this is exactly what we told the travel agent what we didn’t want to do. So we all pile out of the van, greedily gulping down clean, fresh air, or as fresh as Hanoi-suburb air gets. That is when the shouting started. The Aussie girl, obviously irate, shouts at the tour guide, “This is not Ninh Binh. We bought a direct ticket from Hanoi to Ninh Binh. This is not Ninh Binh!” I found this hilarious, particularly because the picture of her shouting “Ninh Binh” repeatedly, with a very stern countenance, against a backdrop of soaring green limestone cliffs and tranquil red temples created an absurd scene. The British guy, apparently traveling with our tempertantrum-prone Aussie friend, started yelling, “No, I don’t want to see the goddamn temples! You are going to get me to Ninh Binh whether you have to buy me a bus ticket yourself.” Dude, look around you. We are in the middle of nowhere with nothing larger than a rickshaw anywhere near us. I felt for their predicament, but this 45 minute layover was not going to kill them. Robin and I had already written off the biking as an empty promise by the travel agent, who would be getting a stern berating by us on our return. Then, the Aussie yells, “I’m not happy. I’m not happy in the least!” Well, thanks for clearing that up, now I know not to expect you to hand out tea and crumpets to everyone, thanking us for our patience. That is when our guide erupted. In fast flowing, broken unintelligible English, he yells, “Not my fault, not my fault. I don’t use my money to pay for you! Travel agent fail!” The most entertaining part was his face. His face was contorted in crimson rage, fists clenched tight, with a resolute refusal to look any of his antagonists in the eyes. He was yelling at them but looking at the rest of the group, the majority of which had no clue what he or the English speakers were saying. Robin and I were enjoying our free show, secretly delighted that other people were having issues with the tour operator, but in a very vocal way. We will just sit back, and take on the tour guide after they have beaten him up fully. The British man, in a self-righteous fury, refused to enter the temple complex, pacing the entrance back and forth, stewing in his own anger. Dude, you lost, someone screwed up, and you lost. Just get over it, see the 1000 year old temple, and get back in the van. You’ll make it to Nimby Bimby in an hour. Grow a pair.

The temple, eh. After the Jungle Temple and Angkor Wat, it looked like it had been constructed from concrete about 4 years ago to increase tourism. So, rather than listen to the still frustrated tour guide, we used the opportunity to find out a little more from the Aussie and, maybe, prod her a little more in her anger. They were actually following our itinerary exactly, but wanted to spend an additional 30 minutes in Ninh Binh. They didn’t have anywhere to rush off to, no, they just were upset about stopping. So I told her she had every right to be upset, that they were lied to, taken advantage of, the works. She got even more worked up, pretty funny to watch.

As we were finishing at the temples, the guide gathers the group and apologizes for his unprofessional outburst. He calls the Brit and Aussie unreasonable, and begs our forgiveness. Fine, just on with the show, please. He turns to Robin and me and tells us we would start our ride now with the two others who chose to bike. Really? Score! We picked up our bikes and took off, Robin, me, the irate guide, and a couple around our age from Hong Kong who spoke excellent English. It was fantastic. We got off the main road and away from the smelling, crowded van full of emotional idiots. On we biked, through tall limestone cliffs which rose from the still water. A few motorbikes and even less cars passed us. As we got into the groove of riding, it started to rain. Lightly at first and then a full downpour. Robin and I whipped out our Arc’teryx and Mountain Hardware rainjackets, respectively, which have held up superbly in the Angkor Wat typhoon and now the Tam Coc monsoon. The couple from HK had ponchos, which worked quite well on the bikes. Unfortunately, our poor guide, still exasperated from the verbal skirmish with the Anglos, had no raingear whatsoever. So we kept right on going through the rain. Our guide decided to chat me up a little, asking where I was from (standard response is California, it usually stumps them because they are expecting USA, Australia or England, and if you rush through the word ‘California’ fast enough, they don’t catch it and just let you go on your way) and how long I had been in Vietnam. He asked me how old I was, and when I said 26, he was amazed. I thought you were older, he cried. No, 26. Then he told me he can’t tell any white people apart or their ages. Hilarious. Thanks for the tip. Next time I go to a Vietnamese fair, I’ll go to the Guess My Age booth. He asked me about work, and when I told him about finance, he decided to marvel me with his understanding of economics, specifically: “The US ruined everything, but Vietnam is doing well! The US economy is a paper tiger.” My response, which Robin found hilarious, was a lesson on Nobel Laureate Paul Krugman’s discussion on the out of whack savings rates in developing Asian countries fueling the dearth of savings in the US and other developed nations, allowing ridiculously low credit to become a crutch we never thought we would have to live without. For a more balanced global economy, Asian countries need to develop stronger domestic consumption. He went quiet and I was allowed to continue my bike ride in peace. After, Robin incredulously asked me if I had asked our guide if he knew who Paul Krugman was. Yes, and it got him to shut up, so it was mission accomplished. As we turned off the scenic route, we had to cross through a series of small villages (the guide didn’t know the names of the villages… thanks). The rain slowly let up, and the children of the village came out to see us. They ran by our bikes, yelling “Hello, how are you?” It was really cute. I gave one kid who was close enough a high five, which caused a rush of kids to come over hoping to get high fives, too. Pretty much our own ending to the Tour d’ Tam Coc, riding a victory lap. It was really fun.

We finish in the town of Tam Coc, and get lunch. Nothing fancy, just noodles and curry. Then we move on to the boating portion of the day. This involves us getting on a small rowboat with a person to paddle you through three grottos. Along the way, the scenery is amazing, the limestone cliffs again jutting out of the calm water, as if someone had come by with a knife and cut right down the middle to let the lakes sit in a limestone bowl. For some unknown reason, our guide decided to come with us. Now he wanted to sit next to Robin and chat him up. Poor guy. Had to talk with the guide for like 45 minutes until they both went silent for the remainder of the ride. The grottos were interesting, stalactites hanging from the ceiling of the caves so we had to duck to pass under. Most of the paddlers were women from the village who help with the rice in the rainy season and paddle for tourists during the down times. They also paddle with their feet, which I found very interesting since they also were able to feather the paddles as they went. Impressive. With about 15 minutes left in the ride, our paddler rips out piece of embroidery after t-shirt after souvenir keychain. This was terrible. Nowhere to go but overboard. We were both stubborn in our refusal to buy anything. After, we got out, and as I was reaching into my pocket to get my money, she yelled “Tip for me! Tip for me!” Chill, lady, that’s why I’m grabbing my wallet, not to slap you over the head with it. Man.

We piled into the van, with 6 people down (Aussie and Brit plus four Japanese who were going to Halong Bay) the van was significantly more comfortable. And the guide was just worn out so we didn’t have to listen to him anymore. Two hours later, we were in Hanoi and getting out at the first stop so we could walk back to the hotel. Anything to be out of there. For dinner, we didn’t feel like local food or going anywhere far, so we went to a pizza place. That’s all we wanted, a little Western food to make up for the crappy tour experience. It was everything we hoped for. Smoothies and pizza.

Tomorrow we are going to Halong Bay, for a real tourism experience. Should be great.

Day 14 – October 1 –Hanoi, Vietnam

2009-10-08T06:40:00.000-07:00

Holy Crap! Crossing the street in Hanoi is like a leap of faith. One has no idea if the sea of scooters, mopeds, cars and vans will part to create a path or if one will be cut down from all sides. Traffic signals are mere suggestions, and relying on the (few) walk signals is madness. What I have learned is that one must push through in a straight line, not deviating nor stopping, and then the vehicles will create a path around you. By stopping, one confuses the driver, eliciting more horn honks. We decided to play a game at lunch, how high could we count between honks? We got to 7.

We had breakfast at the hotel and then asked the receptionist for directions. Robin asked her how to get to the lake, to which she turned to face me and asked, loudly, “WHAT?!” I was confused, was she cross-eyed or something? I said, “I’m with him, I need directions to the lake, also.” The hard faced, not very pleasant girl told us to go left out the door. Thanks. Helpful. We walked to a vegetarian café called Tamarind with an adjoining travel agency called Handspan. Handspan was a fantastic agency. There was no haggling on the prices, but the professional attitude of the staff brought confidence to your weary travelers. Dealing with travel agencies has become the most exhausting process, so these people were like a breath of fresh air. After looking at the local forecasts, we decided to push Halong Bay back one day and do the three day two night trip. The total trip was about $300, not bad for everything included, like transportation from Hanoi to Halong, except drinks. Having that booked, we walked to Cha Ca La Vong, a restaurant on the fish restaurant street, which had only one dish, Mekong riverfish with spices. I would give this place high marks for interesting concept and presentation, average marks for the food. The fish came out on a sizzling platter over an intense flame, spitting highlighter-yellow sauce every which way. Noodles, herbs and chili accompanied the fish. Altogether, it was a lot of fun, but we were not quite sure how the whole thing functioned. Stir the fish? Take it off the flame? Finally, the exasperated hostess did it for us. Turns out one takes the coaster out from beneath the contraption, puts the fish dish on it, and they take away the cooker. Thanks, I was really not going to figure that one out.

After lunch we took a cab to the Temple of Literature. A quick note on taxis in Hanoi, they suck. I was not really happy when the meter kept clicking every 10 seconds. For a five minute ride, our fare was 58,300 VND, or roughly $3.50. This made no sense compared to our earlier fares. Certain taxis can be trusted, others cannot. Consult your hotel’s concierge for the trustworthy cab companies. The Temple of Literature is a Chinese temple built as a center for Confucian teachings in 1070. The Vietnamese call this their first university (just beating out the University of Bologna which is the oldest university in Europe, founded in 1088). The architecture was nice, and I was happy to see something other than Buddhist or Hindu temples for once. The deep reds differed from the white, orange and yellow which predominate Thai and Lao temples.

Since I was still seething from our taxi to the Temple of Literature, we thought it would be fun to take a rickshaw to our next destination, the Hanoi Hilton, or prison for American pilots during the Vietnam War. A small, skinny old man lead us to his rickshaw, barely big enough to hold both Robin and me. He then took us, against traffic, on our way. We were going incredibly slow, but the waves of scooters speeding past us was disconcerting, especially when the rickshaw kept bottoming out on account of our combined weight. I was afraid the poor old man was going to have a coronary pushing us. The whole experience was hilarious. By the end, the old man was huffing and puffing, and I’m sure he was just happy we did not tip the whole rickshaw forward in the middle of the street.

The Hanoi Hilton was interesting, if only for viewing the propaganda. There was a fair share of anti-French postings and photos scattered across the interior. The French built the prison complex to incarcerate revolutionaries, and the execution room, complete with guillotine, was restored to its colonial layout. Other rooms housed exhibits on American bombing raids on Hanoi and Vietnam, as well as accounts on treatment of American POWs. Comments on walls included “American POWs were given better living conditions than the majority of Vietnamese living in Hanoi,” or “American pilots, now not dropping bombs, had to be taught skills that every Vietnamese child knew, like sweeping or sowing.” The photos on the walls were of POWs playing volleyball or celebrating Christmas. Senator McCain featured prominently in the photos and exhibits. This site cannot possibly be aimed at influencing American minds, since it is so heavily biased, but is more likely aimed at Vietnamese youths to instill a sense of moral superiority in the regime. I thought the whole experience was interesting, reinforcing my appreciation for the true freedom of press and thought we have in the Western world, and reinforcing my conviction that the press has a solemn duty to shine the harsh spotlight on government.

Upon returning to the hotel, we stopped by a travel agent nearby to book a day trip for tomorrow, biking and boating in an area called Tam Coc. Sounded like a lot of fun, but we were a bit weirded out by the agent in the shop, particularly when he quoted us $65 for a train ticket to Da Nang (our book says $35). We bought the day trip for tomorrow but held off on the train tickets. We asked a new receptionist (thank God!) for a round estimate on train tickets, to which she actually called the railway, got a price and bought the tickets for us ($29.50). We were ecstatic. Note to self: start with the hotel when booking flights or trains. We also asked her for a restaurant recommendation, since she was being so helpful. She told us about a hotel in the business district and called us a reputable taxi. She was actually awesome. We had dinner, which was fantastic. We ordered family style and ate like kings for $20, including a bottle of local red wine, although I wouldn’t recommend the bottle. Altogether, good saves by the hotel receptionist.

After dinner we walked to a bar called 17 Saloon, which Lonely planet described as a popular Western bar with live music every night. We thought getting a beer to live music would be a great change of pace. When we walked into the gaudy, brightly lit entrance, we were floored. Big long bar with scantily clothed girls walking around everywhere. Everyone wore cowboy hats and vests. When we sat at the bar, the bartender gave us a menu and asked which bottle of Hennessey we would like. Sorry, honey, two beers. We were confused, was this a wannabe Western strip club in the heart of Vietnam’s capital? The band consisted of three dudes playing keyboard, guitar and drums, and two girls singing. Honestly, they were not half bad, maybe just a quarter bad. The other three quarters were just kitsch. My favorite song was “Red Red Wine.” When the band took a break, a couple of bartenders came out and juggled flaming bottles of liquor. Overall, it was a pretty crazy sight. We had three beers each and then walked back to the hotel. I was pleased with our first day in Vietnam.

Day 13 – September 30 –Siem Reap, Cambodia – Hanoi, Vietnam

2009-10-06T01:40:00.000-07:00

The car was supposed to pick us up at 5:00am so we could get to Angkor Wat for the sunrise. To be up, packed, showered and fed, we had to wake up at 4:15. An early morning for a truly unique experience. The rain pounded the city all night without weakening even for a minute. Wave after wave of rain fell on the corrugated metal roof of our hotel room, creating a soothing sound as we slept. The two inches of water pooling on the walkway was not soothing, however. We had the full raingear on, ready for the temples at 5 to 5am. Unfortunately, our driver hadn’t shown up, yet, as he thought no one, particularly lazy Westerners, would be mad enough to show up for sunrise at Angkor Wat in the middle of a typhoon. But, there we were, ready, willing and able. So the hotel called him, shouted at him, and we were on the road 15 minutes later.

Angkor Wat is spectacular. The temple complex, commonly referred to collectively as Angkor Wat although that is the name of only one temple, is absolutely massive with hundreds of temples from various centuries. Angkor Wat is the most amazing, built in the 11th century and as complex a structure as Versailles. When we arrived, the sky was just starting to lighten, and a busload of Japanese tourists had gotten out at the same walkway. Although the rain was coming down a little less ferociously at this point, it was still a constant precipitation which made visiting temples less appealing for the masses. Robin and I, however, thought this would be a great time to see all the temples without the hordes of tourists usually associated with the place. We had a guide, also, who explained the significance of the statues and friezes. The temples were originally built as shrines to Hindu gods but were slowly changed to Buddhist temples as the country converted. You can still see the interplay of the religions in the art around the complexes. Besides keeping away weak willed tourists, the rain also created waterfalls over the edges of most of the temples. It was a surreal sight. No one around but Robin, the guide and me, looking at 1000 year-old structures overgrown with moss and bursting with water. Along with the Grand Canyon at sunset, the Coliseum at night and the Pyramids in Egypt, this is one of the most awe-inspiring sights I have had the good fortune of seeing.

After Angkor Wat we saw Banteay Srei, also known as the “Citadel of Women” since it was built by women. It was a smaller temple, but all the reliefs were incredibly detailed and clear. The temple is a mud-red color, and dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva. The main aisle of the temple was completely flooded, under about 6 to 12 inches of water, so we got to trudge through the watery galleries while staring up at the intricate carvings. I was very impressed. Upon leaving, our guide asked us if we were hungry, and we said no. But then the driver came over and said that the guide is just being polite, he hadn’t eaten, yet. So we sat down for breakfast. Our guide inhaled his plate of noodles, it was pretty funny. Robin and I each had a banana pancake, which was scrumptious. It was more corn-like than flour based, so after one we were done.

We followed Banteay Srei with Ta Prohm, also known colloquially as the Jungle Temple or Tomb Raider Temple, since one of the Tomb Raider movies was filmed here. If Walt Disney and George Lucas got together and imagined the most fantastical, strange and foreign temple possible, you would get Ta Prohm. There were trees growing out the side of walls and on ceilings. Roots had obstructed some walls, so you could see ghostly white faces of statues or reliefs staring at you from between the roots. The normal entrance to this site was completely underwater, and industrious Cambodians were charging people $1 for a motorcycle ride across the flooded entrance walkway. Being stubborn young guys, we marched through the knee high water, savoring the effect created by the canopy of trees overhead reflected in the temporary lake all around us. It was the perfect set up to the feast for the eyes we were about to encounter. This temple was built in 1186 and dedicated to the king’s mother. It was the most crowded of all the temples, owing to the fact that it was later in the day, around 11am, but there were a minimal amount of tourists compared to non-rainy days, our guide told us. The stone walls had turned from a dull gray into a deep, verdant green from all the wet moss and grass growing on it. Water cascaded over the sides, pooling in abscesses in the rocks lining the ground. The temple was a ghost of its former glory, with stonewalls shattered from the relentless growth of tree on or around them. But the combination of towering trees, exquisite bas-reliefs and crumbling stone facades created a sensation of utter wonder and bewilderment. This could not be real, right? This must be a Hollywood fabrication! The fact that this structure was almost 850 years old makes it all the more awesome.

We finished our day at the Angkor Thom complex. Driving up to the entrance involves passing over a bridge lined by statues on one side of demons and the other by gods. These statues are 10 to 12 feet tall and number about 30 on each side. Then you drive through a large stone gate flanked by two giant nagas, or holy multiheaded snakes. The impression created by this entrance is incredible. It was like the scene in Jurassic Park when they drive through the massive front gates, full of anticipation. The first site upon entering is the Terrace of the Leper King, a large platform which was used as the royal cremation sight. The landmark derives its name from a statue which had moss growing over it and gave the statue the appearance of a leper. The original statue is now in the national museum, but a copy continues to have moss blotching its countenance. Then the Terrace of Elephants. A terrace with various carvings of warrior elephants. Pretty cool. But my favorite part was walking around the grounds of this spaced out temple complex. There were temporary and permanent lakes dotting the landscape, blocking certain paths through the complex. Our path through was not direct, we followed large arcs through the trees and skirted the lakes, savoring the reflection of the towering stone temples in the still water. We made our way slowly. We were in no rush to finish the day. The rain continued to fall and the inevitably crush of tourists failed to materialize, allowing us free reign of the thousand year old playground. The final temple was the Baphuon. It was surrounded by a large moat today, created hours before by the remnants of the typhoon, and local children were enjoying jumping off the edge of the temple into the shallow water. This temple was notable for the faces carved into the towers, one on each side of the four-sided towers. All the faces were unique, with different smiles, eyes, expressions… It allowed for some funny photo opportunities. At a certain point, I just put my camera to rest, hoping that the incessant downpour would not permanently damage the machine. But there were some shots that were just too good not to capture. I removed the raincover from my bag, pulled out my camera, unwrapped it of its cheap plastic bag enclosure, and fired off five or six shots. I bought my camera in anticipation of sights like this. I cannot wait to see if they even remotely capture the feeling this place exudes.

It was now about 3:30pm, and we knew that staying for sunset would be futile. The clouds had not dissipated and the sun was not going to break through this dense wall of moisture. Instead, we had lunch and had the driver take us to the airport for our flight to Hanoi. We bid farewell to our friends, thanking them for putting up with the typhoon for us. When we entered the airport, we took turns alternating watching the bags and changing in the bathroom. We were soaking wet, drenched. The bathroom attendants looked at us with a mixture of humor and horror. The Westerners look like they just climbed out of a pool, but they are going to empty the water all over my clean bathroom! We did not see our 7:45pm flight on the board, there was just a 9:21pm flight to Hanoi operated by Vietnam Airlines. Strange. So I asked the girl behind the desk, and she explained how our flight was the 9:21 flight, just delayed. I was amused that instead of showing the original flight and noting its delay, they just make it look like this was the original time. Fine, I’ll go with that. We sat in the airport for a couple of hours, but we passed the time with a new copy of The Economist (yes!) and a bottle of cabernet. That is right, our first bottle of wine on this trip was in the international terminal of the Siem Reap airport. We are kind of classy like that. Robin also used the time to get cable, internet and other random things set up for his new apartment in Dallas. Things are easy nowadays with the interweb and all.

We arrived in Hanoi late, and we checked into our hotel, the Golden Lotus, near the lake. Tomorrow we would decide if the weather was going to support our plans to go to Halong Bay or not. Hope it does!

Day 12 – September 29 –Phnom Penh – Siem Reap

2009-10-05T04:44:00.001-07:00

We woke up to a gray sky, packed our raincoats and left for the day. We took a tuk-tuk to the Killing Fields about an hour outside of Phnom Penh city center.

I’ll give some background on the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot. In the early 70s, the US bombed Cambodia in conjunction with the Vietnam War, causing immense anger in the local peasant population. Cambodia was in the midst of a civil war pitting the nominally democratic Lon Nol government, backed by the US, against the Chinese backed Khmer Rouge lead by Pol Pot. In 1975, as the US withdrew from the region, the Lon Nol regime collapsed under the Khmer Rouge army. Pol Pot, educated in Paris and of privileged upbringing, instituted drastic changes across the country, purging the capital of Phnom Penh, and in fact the entire country, of former Lon Nol officials and supporters. Banks, schools and any industries not related to agriculture were destroyed. Families of these Lon Nol officials were killed, also, so as not to allow resistance or revenge to fester. But the old regime wasn’t the only target. The Khmer Rouge also wanted to remake the entire country in the image of agrarian subsistence farming, eschewing cities, family units and industry. The capital of Phnom Penh was emptied of 2 million inhabitants, families were broken apart across the country and the entire population was forced to move from their homes. Hundreds of thousands died in the forced marches or from malnutrition. Pol Pot feared another civil war, and decided to expand the purges. Soldiers within his revolutionary army where tortured and killed. People who refused to leave their homes were massacred. And anyone with an education was put to death. Most were tortured at the S-21 prison, eventually making false confessions to stop the torture. After, the victims were put on buses or trains and taken to various killing fields across the country to be murdered. An estimated 1.4- 2.0 million Cambodians were executed or died of starvation during Khmer Rouge rule.

We visited the Killing Fields outside Phnom Penh. Since the late 80s, more than 8,000 bodies have been found in various mass graves. After arriving at the center, the people were forced to dig their own graves and then murdered with various farm equipment: axes, machetes, hoes, or clubs. Children were not spared, and the smallest ones were taken to a Killing Tree, held by their legs, and swung into the tree’s trunk, head first, until their skulls collapsed. Mothers were killed with their babies in their arms. Acid and DDT were thrown on the bodies to speed up decomposition and hide the smell of rotting flesh from the neighboring communities. No one knew what was going on in the area. The soldiers running the camp had a “Magic Tree” where they would hang a loudspeaker and blast patriotic music, to muffle the cries of agony from the dying. This went on until the regime fell in 1978. The people of Cambodia built a stupa for the dead when the site was uncovered in the 80s. The stupa is a massive glass and concrete pagoda which houses thousands of skulls, bones and clothes from the victims of Pol Pot’s genocide. In the Buddhist tradition, the dead are respected by building a temple, or stupa, above the bones or ashes of the deceased. This stupa was built by the federal government to respect the dead. It was an incredibly moving experience. If anyone is interested in reading more about the Cambodian genocide, or genocide in general, Samantha Power has written a fascinating book on the subject called America in the Age of Genocide.

After, we visited the National Museum and the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda. The National Museum was actually quite interesting. I didn’t know if this was going to be a tourist trap, but it ended up having an impressive collection of statues from across Cambodia, with a particular concentration from the temples at Angkor Wat. The statues concentrate on Hindu and Buddhist subjects, like Vishnu and Buddha. It was really interesting walking around the museum. We left and moved on to the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda. We enjoyed the grounds, with glittering towers and a variety of spectacular temples. I was underwhelmed by the Silver Pagoda. It had become more of a museum for gifts given to the royal family. There was also a scale model of Angkor Wat that I enjoyed, at least for the photo op. We will be seeing Angkor Wat tomorrow, a place I am incredibly enthused about seeing.

On our way to the airport we saw a sight I was waiting patiently for, ox carts on highways. Yes, I finally saw it, buggies drawn by oxen on a large highway. I know, why would that excite me? No reason, I just like the image of scooters and SUVs zooming by ox carts. At the airport, we got on our flight early. The reason was clear, there were only 5 people on our flight, including Robin and me. The other three were Kiwis. We thought it was funny when the airline crew repeated all the instructions in Cambodian… unless you are doing it for the sake of regulations or training, no one can understand a word you are saying, so save your breath.

We landed in Siem Reap, got to our hotel, booked the following day’s tour to see the temples and left for dinner. We ate at a place called Khmer Kitchen, which was excellent. The food was traditional Cambodians, we both had curries. It was spicy, which was great. As we finished dinner, it started to rain. The beginning of Typhoon Ketsana. We settled the bill and walked back to the hotel, arriving just as the heavens were really opening to drop buckets and buckets of water on us. Tomorrow’s visits should be interesting!

Day 11 – September 28 –Vientiane, Laos – Phnom Penh, Cambodia

2009-10-05T04:27:00.000-07:00

We are paying for our incredible day yesterday. We both woke up groggy and miserable. The warmth of the previous day’s experience was little solace to our pounding heads. We packed and prepared to check-out of our hotel, on the way to Cambodia. Unfortunately, no one at our hotel spoke much English, the credit card machine was acting up, and the car to take us to the airport had a dead battery. After I showed them how to correctly charge my visa card, Robin and I threw our stuff into the back of the car and got ready to rush to the airport. However, the driver explained the dead battery and asked us to help him push the car back a few feet so that he could jump it. We pushed the car, but this fool was steering and kept pushing on the brake. We kept smacking into the front grill of the car. Great. Eventually, after a long waste of time, he called another car, and we got to the airport.

The flight to Cambodia was uneventful, got through the visa process quickly ($20 for a single entry) and grabbed a tuk-tuk for the ride to the Bodhi Tree Umma hotel. We were very pleased with the hotel. It was small, set back amongst some trees with tables set up outside for their adjoining slow-food movement restaurant. It was also across the street from the S-21 prison, where Pol Pot’s genocidal regime imprisoned and tortured his own people. It is now a museum.

We got our stuff together and drove to the Palace and Silver Pagoda. The city of Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital, has a much larger population than anywhere we went in Laos, with poverty visible almost everywhere one looked. Kids were playing in the gutters, trash was everywhere, and the begging was much more prevalent than Thailand or Laos. But there was also a gritty realism that made me admire the city. These people had been through 30+ years of civil war, genocide, and decay, but everyone we actually interacted with was kind, with a smile on his or her face. I was legitimately moved. One of our tuk-tuk drivers asked us where we were from. After we told him the US, he turned around, smiled generously and yelled “Obama” with big thumbs up. We smiled and nodded. He pointed to his arm and said, “We like him because he is the same color we are. We think he will do well for all of us!” I’ll continue with this thought in a separate “Random Musings” so will not bore you with my thoughts here.

The Palace and Pagoda were closed by the time we arrived, so we walked up and down the river, enjoying the views. An elephant was walking among the traffic, with ecstatic children throwing him peanuts and popcorn. Cars, buggies and scooters were swerving around the mass of gray, honking and shouting. The elephant cared little for the circus going on around him. He just enjoyed his popcorn.

We stopped at a local restaurant suggested by Lonely Planet. It was, eh. Robin had the local specialty, Amok. First issue is the name. If I were going to name a national dish, I wouldn’t start with a name resembling a mess to be wiped up. But, hey, what do I know? It was local Mekong river fish steamed in banana leaves. It was not so great. I had a local curry with potatoes, which was fine. Nothing to rave about, so I won’t. We walked around for a little bit before grabbing a tuk-tuk back to the hotel. At the hotel, we decided to write in our journals and read a little bit in the patio area outside. Lanterns were hanging from the trees and the different levels of seating created a cozy ambiance. We decided to splurge a little and get smoothies (ice made with purified water, no worries) and dessert. The smoothies were great. After a pleasant end to a day of travel and car pushing, we dropped into bed, ready for tomorrow.

Day 10 – September 27 –Vientiane

2009-10-05T04:12:00.000-07:00

Wat, Stupa, Wat, Stupa. Really, I’m kind of templed-out at this point, but I’m willing to give Vientiane a shot. We asked the concierge for directions, but his English was about as useful as my Laos… nonexistent. So we started walking. After 30 minutes or so, we got to the old quarter of Vientiane which had a good amount of French colonial architecture. It was actually quite impressive. The design was vaguely Haussmanian, with high ground floors and balconies just above that level. It was very quaint. As we wandered around that part of town, we found another Scandinavian Bakery. Impressive, it is a chain now. Good for them.

We got to Patuxay gate, which is a large concrete arch modeled after the Arc de’ Triomphe. It was constructed with cement donated by the US army to build an airport runway, explaining its modern nickname as the Vertical Runway. It took them a little longer to build that runway. The Stupa was impressive, no matter how much I wanted it to be terrible. It was massive and gold, but nothing really else. So we said, screw it, let’s go bowling.

A taxi took us out of town to a local megaplex/cinema/bowling alley/convention center around 2:00pm. It appeared to be a clothing sale, filled wall to wall with stalls selling all types of clothes. After Robin bought a t-shirt (It had his initials, “RBM,” and an awesome if not coherent collection of words beneath it) we walked upstairs to the bowling alley. It was a modern, clean bowling alley with a service desk in the middle and alleys on either side. It was huge! They also had blacklight bowling down, turning the lights low, pumping in the strobes, and blasting American hip hop. After the girl at the front desk turned us away initially, we talked our ways in, got a lane, two Beer Laos, and started bowling. It was really fun. After making a spectacle of ourselves by fistbumping and high-fiving at every spare or strike, our neighbors started to get amused. When one of our two friends next to us bowled a strike, we started giving them high-fives, too. It was fun. We were making friends, breaking 100 on the lane, and enjoying our Laos-brand bugle and prawn chips. Life is good. After four games, we were about to call it a day, when our friends next to us invited us to bowl with them. Turns out, one of the guys next to us had just graduated from university in Paris and spoke a decent amount of English. He and I spoke in French to each other and we all joined for a game on the same lane. (Note: I know what some of you might think, Kevin spoke French? Yes, as much as that nation wanted me deported, humiliated or even pushed to insanity by torturous French waiters, I did learn enough of the language to converse with a Laos national. Yes, I’m a tiny bit impressed with myself, even if it was French. And, yes, I know you might be surprised that I even acknowledge this.) Eventually, we used both lanes since more of their local friends joined us. Robin and I ended up bowling well, probably about 8 or 9 games. We both had personal bests: Robin with an impressive 158 and me with a fine 126.

At the end, we had become good friends with the local Vientiane public, and even the hard faced girl at the front desk melted and laughed with us. By that point, we were well into drunk territory. If I was being generous, I would say we were very very buzzed. We left the bowling alley around 8:00pm. 6 hours of bowling, making local friends and drinking ourselves silly was an excellent way to spend the day. We went up and paid for our bill and our friends. Total: $34. You cannot get two games of bowling, shoes and drinks for three people in New York for less than $125, so this was a friggin steal. Our friends were floored when they were told that we had paid for their games, food and drinks, also. As luck would have it, one of the guys we had been bowling with had a girlfriend who worked at the multiplex in the same center, so we all got a discount. They were so flabbergasted that we paid, that they decided to drive us through town and drop us off at our hotel. We invited them for dinner at Three Stars, but they unfortunately could not join us. After a fun ride, where we were peppered with random questions in broken English about America, New York and California, we got to our hotel and went directly to Three Stars, the restaurant from last night. Now, the place was not nearly as full or boisterous as the previous evening. The restaurant was about half full. But we got a table in the middle of the restaurant this time, and immediately ordered a number 7 and two BeerLaos. What came to us was not the same number 7 we had last night. No, instead we had what the kid next to us called, “The Spicy Plate.” He said even Lao people have issues with this dish. We were both strong and put down a considerable amount of the spicy beef with onions, peppers and noodles, enough to impress the kid next to us.

Damn, I really wanted that BBQ Beef plate from the night before. I resigned myself to finding our waiter from last night and making him tell me what we had. Remember, He spoke next to no English. I walked around the restaurant, looking for our friend, who I’ll call Our Buddy. I did find him, sitting at a table in civilian clothes with two friends. Tact was not possible tonight, as I was drunker than I’ve been in a while. I grabbed him, started to motion to our table, and convinced him and one of his friends to join us. Using sign language, I was able to get him to order the dish we had the night before, albeit seafood and not beef. Still, really really good. We bought a round for all our friends and talked to them as best we could. I was trying to tell Our Buddy that I liked the song that was playing, so I broke out my iPod and pointed with thumbs up. He pointed to that and then to me and said “LA!” I said yeah, LA! He then said, “You DJ.” What the hell, I went with it. I told Our Buddy that I was a dj in LA, and he thought it was incredibly cool. He grabbed the proprietor or the shift manager or someone and he took me, Robin and Our Buddy’s friend to another room in the restaurant. It was their nightclub/karaoke lounge. He puts on the strobe lights and colored lights and started pumping an Akon song, giving me a microphone. So I started shouting the song into the mic, drawing a bit of a crowd (not for good reasons). I imagine it sounded similar to cats repeatedly being run over by a train.

So, after making some Lao friends, posting a personal bowling best, drinking myself silly and rocking the hippest club in Vientiane, we retired for the evening. It was probably the most eventful non-event I can remember. We had an amazing time and I don’t think our new friends will forget us anytime soon.

Tomorrow, Phnom Penh and, most definitely, a hangover.

Day 9 – September 26 –Luang Prabang to Vientiane

2009-10-05T03:24:00.000-07:00

We slept in this morning. Yes, after a week of waking up around 6 or 7 am and going straight from trains into cities or clucking chicken camps to vertical mountain marches, we gave ourselves a pass and slept in until 9am. We packed, got all of our stuff ready, and checked out, leaving our backpacks at the hotel until our flight at 7pm. We were going to have a full day in the city until we left for Vientiane.

Today was pretty chill. We continued to figure out our next couple of moves, sitting in a small café just past the Scandinavian Bakery which had free wifi. They also had an espresso frappe which was fantastic. After 8 days of not having anything really cold and shunning ice containing beverages, I slipped and went for the frappe. Boy, am I happy I did. It was refreshing beyond imagination. We confirmed flight prices before we actually bought them at a travel agent across the street. Hey, we are both former analysts, we know how to do a comp analysis. After fixing our remaining flights and hotels, we returned to Kopnoi, the fairtrade store. I bought a set of tiles which were hand painted to make a single painting. I thought they were very cool. When, who walked in, but Fofie. She asked me about the picture and where I wanted to ship it (Mom and Dad, it’s coming your way… thanks!). When I said LA, she said, wow, I lived there! I proceeded to remind her that she told me her life story (Quebecois, NY, LA – Westchester, late husband, Laos, grandkid) and that I was in a hurry to catch my flight. I wouldn’t be surprised if the tiles didn’t get to LA. Oh well, we will see soon enough, no?

We took a ride to the airport and got to Vientiane, no issues. We stayed at the Hotel Calao, a sister to our hotel in LP. It was more of a business hotel, but in a very strange area. Nowhere near a business district. In fact, we had to turn off the main road, the wrong way down a one-way dirt road to get there. It was quite humorous. We checked in and went directly to dinner. There was a beer garden down the street called Three Stars. It was awesome. Full of kids between 16 and 28. Absolutely packed at 10:00 pm. We got the menu, which was 100% in Laos. I mean, we had no clue what was going on, so we decided to pick number 7. We assumed it was out lucky number. After 15 minutes of high anticipation, a sizzling plate of bbq beef, onions and greens came out. IT WAS AWESOME! To be fair, we were more excited that we pointed to a random combination of squiggly lines on a piece of paper and got something edible. Hell, we were excited it was food. Who knows, we could have been ordering from an embroidery home catalogue. After careful consideration, we decided that we knew who the 18 year olds were across from us. It was the stars of Laos Hills, a very popular Lao take on the popular mTV USA show. No, kidding, but the girls were wearing faux-fur vests in 38 degree heat. They must of thought of themselves as hot. We finished our Beer Laos, very proud of our local beer garden experience. We gave our waiter a big tip, as he had dealt well with some clueless Americans. His eyes widened in surprise, and we chuckled to ourselves a bit. We bet big and took the house for all it was worth, so we had to throw a chip to the dealer, right? I had the best time. Tomorrow is our tourist Vientiane day. See you soon.

Day 8 – September 25 –Luang Prabang, Laos

2009-10-02T10:04:00.000-07:00

We got up, had breakfast, and met our kayak guide and tuk-tuk driver outside the hotel. Our guide’s name is Man. Sweet! I can remember that. Man turns out to be a 20-year old from the Khmu tribe. He explains to us that there are three main ethnic tribes in Laos: the Laos, Hmong and Khmu. He has some interesting views on the various tribes. The Laos are laxy, the Hmong are hard working but not that bright, and the Khmu are smart and good with languages. Fine, we will start with that. Tell us about your company. Well, Man says, it is run by this incredibly smart guy who speaks Spanish, French, German, English and Laos and Khmu. Interesting, we say, so he started this trekking company himself? Yes, Man replied, he runs this whole thing himself and runs it incredibly well. I love working here! And is he Khmu, then? Oh, no, Man starts, he is actually Laos… but the only smart diligent Laos I know! We will leave it there. We then asked him about our trip for the day. It sounds awesome.

We get to the put in, where we find Robin and I will be in a tandem sit-on-top kayak while Man uses a single. We are the only guests. It turns out that Man has to really work to keep up with us and we are going significantly faster than most of his other guests. We are starting on the Nam Khan river, and, unfortunately, since we wanted to see the caves, we had to bypass most of the rapids. Our day is going to be all flat water. We had a great time. The scenery was incredible with limestone cliffs climbing vertically out of the river. It was like the Grand Canyon, expect that these were mountains, not a canyon carved by a river. The effect is incredible. Almost neon green mountains rising from light brown river water. I’m completely awe-struck. At a certain point, Man catches up and suggests we venture over towards a lone fisherman on river right to see his haul so far this morning. He is in a small wooden boat at the mouth of a small limestone cave. As we get closer, I notice one of his legs is thinner than the other one and his foot is deformed, pointed completely sideways so he stands on his ankle. He is a happy fellow, plenty welcoming even though he has not caught anything, yet, today. We wave goodbye and head downstream to the confluence with the Mekong. Here, Man tells us we have to muscle it through to the other side to get to the caves. The current is stronger here and we have to dodge longboats and other tourist vessels. When we get to the caves, we dock between all the longboats. People are just staring at us. Who would want to kayak when you can take a motorized boat? Us. I don’t want to be packed into a rinky-dink longboat with 60 other tourists listening to the diesel motor roar and inhale carbon monoxide for an hour. The kayak is perfect for us.

We walk up to the upper and lower caves filled with hundreds of Buddhas. Unfortunately, this has become more of a tourist trap than a special experience. I enjoyed going, as you can picture how special of a place this was twenty years ago when the dark cave was illuminated by candlelight and hundreds of Buddha statues of varying height and materials stared back at you. Now, however, the florescent lighting and constant souvenir peddlers have a demystifying effect. The upper cave is slightly more interesting, being completely dark on the interior, one must use a flashlight provided at the entrance to see anything. It is more interesting walking around and discovering for oneself the intricate dragon carvings in the rock wall and Buddhas placed in crevices all around the cavern’s interior. Also, no souvenir peddlers. Relief. We walked around for about 45 minutes and then made our way back to the kayaks. There was a curious old man at the kayak, poking it, stepping on it, and looking intensely at the paddles. It was quite amusing. When we got on, he gave us a thumbs up and a wide grin.

Man had us paddle for another 15 minutes before he suggested we eat lunch on a small muddy island on the left side of the Mekong. We looked at this shallow, reed covered mud island and thought, he must be kidding. Turns out, it was an amazing view. You could see up the river with a fantastic view of the hills and mountains framing the caves. The longboats were more appealing from afar, since we didn’t have to listen to motor’s constant roar or other tourists annoying chatter. We just got to eat our chicken sandwiches, which were overloaded to the point of saturation with mayo, in peace in the middle of the Mekong. All in all, not a bad morning!

We returned to the kayaks and kept paddling. Man told us we were incredibly early at this point, and we should slow down. We did, savoring the scenery around us. As we approached the Lao Lao Whiskey village, a long boat with five young children was sitting in the water near us. They jumped up and down yelling, race, race! Oh, it was on. We raced the kids for about 3 minutes, just barely beating them. They were pretty good. I just feel bad we didn’t have any treats for them. Robin kept paddling while I took photos. We got to the dock and pulled the kayaks out of the water. There was a small family waiting for us to show us the Whiskey distillation process. We got to try some of the really hot whiskey straight out of a distillation barrel. I half inhaled the shot and half drank it. I almost puked right there. It was strong stuff. Robin had a measly half a shot and I had to finish his so that we wouldn’t look ungrateful. Then again, he had finished off the BeerBoom bucket by himself. We walked through the village and waved to all the local kids, then got on the tuk-tuk to return to LP.

It was a great day. The kayaking was superb and Man was a nice guy. We got stuck in on the outskirts of town, kind of in the local district, due to a traffic jam, so we decided to walk back to the main town. It was really fun walking through the local area, people looked at us like we were martians. We had a couple of Beer Laos on our balcony, watching the sunset and thinking about the trip thus far. Pretty awesome. We rambled along the Mekong and watched the fires burning along the banks. We discussed the impending typhoon, about to hit Vietnam on Tuesday. We decided it would be better to not chance getting stuck in Pakse or the 4,000 islands in case the typhoon grew stronger and disrupted travel in Laos. We bought new tickets from Vientiane straight to Phnom Penh. We had to eat the bus ticket, but we determined we’d rather confirm our visit to Angkor Wat.

We had dinner at a small local place near the ticket shop, away from the tourist area. The food was fantastic, with the minced pork fried in bamboo shoots being our favorite local dish, so far. It was awesome. Then again, what food deep fried isn’t good? You see my point. We had after dinner drinks at Lao Lao Garden, where their slogan is “Where you can drink like a fish for the price of water!” They are right. We sat outside in the very nice garden toasting our successful couple of days in LP. This place has been amazing. The people are nice and friendly, and incredibly helpful. No one has been pushy with souvenirs (with the exception of the people at the caves), and we have gotten to relax. We will be sad to leave LP tomorrow, and we will definitely look back on the city with fond memories. At least we have most of the day tomorrow to savor the waning hours in LP. Then, Vientiane!

Day 7 – September 24 –Luang Prabang, Laos

2009-10-02T09:00:00.000-07:00

Today is a day of preparation. We want to check out the city, book our rafting/kayaking trek for tomorrow, and nail down our next few steps. Maybe head to the south of Laos and visit the 4,000 islands or go to the capital, Vientiane, or just move on to Cambodia.

We first visited LP’s most famous temple, Wat Xieng Thong, just a 5 minute walk from the hotel. This is an incredible temple. Unlike the Thai temples we saw, this one has not become a tourist attraction and been restored several times. Inside the main temple the gold paint showing various teachings of Buddha is pealing from the walls. There were at least two worshippers in the temple as we were walking around, and various monks were on the grounds. Incense hung in the air, further increasing the temple’s appeal. Outside was another large structure, built in the same design as the temple, which housed the royal funerary carriage, about 35 feet tall. It was incredibly ornate. Along the back wall several dozen statues of Buddha in various poses, standing, sitting, reclining, created an interesting audience behind the carriage. Overall, I think this is one of my favorite temples so far.

After, we decided to walk along the main street of town, passing the famous Scandinavian Bakery on the way. Robin’s girlfriend, Heather, raved about this place. I am happy to say that her enthusiasm is not misplaced. It was very good. We both had smoothies. It is really nice to get something cold in you as we walked around in the increasingly humid day. After the Bakery, we passed the Hmong market and went to Mount Phu Si, a hill in the center of the old part of the city which houses a Temple, Wat Thammothayalan, and a stupa, That Chomsi. We hiked up the hill, and even though the temple and stupa were not as impressive as Wat Xieng Thong, the view from the summit was fantastic. Awe inspiring. The Mekong and Nam Khan River (one of the Mekong’s tributaries) surround the city on three sides, and the city is so green with palm trees and ferns, that the homes and buildings almost look out of place. Since it is the end of the rainy season, locals sit on the banks of the river and light fires from palm branches to dry their clothes. The wet branches create lots of dense, white smoke, creating this surreal vision from the top of Mount Phu Si, almost like the city is letting off steam. Fantastic sight.

After we walked down the hill, we had lunch at a French café and checked our emails. We have decided to fly from LP to Vientiane on the 26th and then take the overnight bus to Pakse on the 27th, arriving the 28th. Unfortunately, there are no trains in Laos and the Pakse airport is closed for renovations. In Pakse we can take a boat to the 4,000 islands and see the largest waterfall (by height) in Southeast Asia. Then, we’ll take a bus to Savannakhet for a flight to Phnom Penh, Cambodia. We got those tickets booked, ready and willing to make the most of our time in Laos. For a country I really had no clue about 12 months ago, we are going to be seeing a lot.

We also stopped by the Kopnoi store, which is a fair-trade store for Laos artisans. It is owned by the same Quebecois couple which runs the book exchange we went to last night. The mother of one of the proprietors, a Quebecois woman who lived in Westchester, Los Angeles for 10 years and still has a home there, spoke with us at length about living in Laos last night at the book exchange. She was at Kopnoi today, and related the same stories, again, while we were desperately trying to remind her we had heard all this before. With her outrageous Quebecois accent, I decided to name her Fofie. Fofie suggested we stop by her daughter’s bar tonight, called Hive, to check out the “ethnic fashion show” and have a “marvelous cocktail.” Yeah, sure, we’ll go, find you, and hear your life story again for the third time. No thanks. We are going to stick to the BeerLaos and BeerBoom.

We had dinner at the hotel, at the Cave des Chateaux. Actually, the food was great. We really liked the seaweed and dried beef appetizer and the spring rolls. I’ve never had spring rolls like the ones we’ve had here. I’ve also never gone this long without having ice, but I really don’t want Montezuma’s revenge. That would be tres merdey.

We called it an early night since tomorrow we are going kayaking on the Nam Khan and Mekong rivers. We’ll also be visiting the Pak Ou caves, a series of caves in the river where generations of LPers have placed Buddha statues. The statues number in the hundreds and it has become a very important local shrine. We are also visiting the village where Lao Lao Whiskey is made. Bring it on!

Day 6 – September 23 – Chiang Mai, Thailand to Luang Prabang, Laos

2009-10-01T10:33:00.000-07:00

Bot-Miller has had a deep interest in green issues for a long time, and a former colleague in the hospitality industry suggested he check out the Four Seasons Chiang Mai if he happened to be there. The Four Seasons Chiang Mai is on of the brand’s eco-tourism concept resorts, so we thought it would be interesting to stop by, maybe venture out for breakfast. Since this is an eco-resort, it is not located in the Old Town of Chiang Mai, but instead, on the outskirts of town. So we rented scooters from the suggested rental place across from our guest house. The owner of the scooter place told us to “Stay on the left… LEFT!” Really, no other suggestions. Unlike Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, one drives on the left in Thailand. What, you just want to feel special? We donned our helmets (they had a difficult time finding a helmet to fit my freakishly large head) and set out for the Four Seasons around 9:00am.

After 30 minutes, we stopped at a 7-Eleven, which are everywhere, to ask for directions. Four Seasons? Never heard of it. The uber-expensive eco-resort probably does not have much of a pull on local clientele. Robin and I made the decision to ride for 10 more minutes in the same direction, then turn around and go back if we don’t see it. Maybe we missed a sign or something, and we will catch it on the way back. I pealed out and stuck to the plan. I kept Robin, on his blue scooter and in a powder blue helmet, in my rear view mirror. After 10 minutes, I pulled over to consult with Bot-Miller. As I pulled to the side of the road, a woman with a load of sticks on her back passed by me. She had on a powder blue helmet and was riding a blue scooter. Damn, not Robin. I waited for 5 minutes, and when I didn’t see Robin, I turned around and headed back. Hoping I would see him, I continued until the turn-off back to the city center. No Robin. I waited at the turn-off in front of a Dunkin Donuts. After 10 minutes, I decided to go back to town and hopefully meet up with him at the hotel. I filled up on gas and made it to the main ringroad around the Old Town when who do I see? Bot-Miller! Nice, let’s get back to the hotel and head to the airport. Wait, random traffic stop. We were pulled over by two cops. We produced our driver’s licenses and waited to be let off on our way. However, the cop points to my bike, starts filling-in a form, and pockets my ID. He says, “Pay fine, get back ID.” This was a problem. It was 11am and we had a flight to catch at 3pm. When he pocketed the ID, Robin and I knew we were in trouble. So we started arguing with the man. Why did I get a ticket? What did I do? Can we pay the fine on the spot. In as few words as possible, the registration was out of date. He was not going to give me my ID back, so we forced him to take us to the station then and there. He finally relented and started driving to the station, but totally attempted to shake us along the way, dodging traffic left and right and running a red light at least twice. I guess he had never dealt with Americans before. We stuck to him through it all and made it to the station in about 5 minutes. He walked me into the station as Robin tried to contact the Tourism Police (11-55 from a local Chiang Mai phone). The room was super hot and I had to sit at a table as 5 Thai officers decided my fate. Pay us 200 Baht ($6) for your transgression, they told me. Why the hell should I pay a fine for expired registration when I obviously rented the bike, I asked. After about 20 minutes of back and forth, they told me to pay it and then get my money back from the scooter lady. I looked him in the eye and said, do you really believe that I am going to get my money back? I might be foreign, but I’m not a moron. He laughed, then sighed, and told me to leave and give the fine to the scooter lady. Yes, I beat the system! I grabbed Robin and we booked it out of there. If we came across any traffic stops, there was NO WAY we were going to stop. After almost an hour of negotiations with various Thai police officers and finally getting my license returned to me, I wasn’t stopping for anything.

Back at the scooter place, we raised hell with the scooter lady. She told us it was her daughters fault, and she would never let us go without having proper registration. B.S. I’ll believe that as soon as Glenn Beck says something sane. Finally, she refunded me 100 out of 150 Baht. Better than nothing.

We paid our bill at the guest house and jumped in a tuk-tuk. As we started to head for the airport, a random man jumped into the front of the car. He was bald, was missing several teeth, and apparently had a raucous story to tell the tuk-tuk driver. So he did. The tuk-tuk driver thought it was hilarious. We had no clue what he was saying, but we found it equally funny.

We got to the airport, made our flight, and a couple hours later were in Luang Prabang, Laos (herein referred to as LP). We got our visas on arrival for $35. No problem whatsoever. Actually, the Laos visa looks pretty cool, and that is very important to me. Why else would I drop $35? I want a colorful sticker in my passport for that kind of money. We hopped in a cab and went on our way to find a hotel for a couple of nights. After lugging our backpacks around for about 30 minutes, we settled on the Auberge Calao Inn. It was situated on the Mekong and we had a balcony overlooking the river, which was perfect at sunset since we pointed West. All in all, pretty awesome place for $65 a night.

We had dinner along the river at a local place. How did we know it was local? No fans and no Westerners. We both had large vegetable soups for about $2 each. It was really good. After we made our way to the book exchange to get rid of our now complete Dan Brown books, The Lost Symbol. Spoiler alert. Not a good read. Skip it. Washington conspiracy theory? Stick to the Pelican Brief. I got Norman Mailer’s The Presidential Papers (really good) and Robin got Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns (hasn’t started it, yet, he’s still on Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States, which I think should be required reading of every high schooler in the US). Then we went to Smile Laos for a drink before retiring for the evening. I had a BeerLaos (awesome local beer) and Robin, adventurer that he is, got the BeerBoom. The BeerBoom consisted of BeerLaos, Lao Lao Whisky and 7-Up. It also came in a bucket and was probably designed for 2-4 people, but since it was conservatively priced at 75 cents, we didn’t figure that out. I had to order another BeerLaos to keep up with his alcohol intake. We ended up loving the location, particularly for its great taste in Western music. Our favorite was Lil’ Jon’s “Get Low,” now the unofficial theme song to our trip. We stumbled home and crashed, ready to explore LP the next day.

Day 5 – September 22 - Lahu Village to Chiang Mai

2009-09-30T11:07:00.000-07:00

I wouldn’t exactly characterize my sleep as good. Chickens started clucking and roosters started crowing at about 3am and did not stop, even for five minutes, until I reluctantly raised my head in desperation and attempted to suffocate myself with my pillow, but to no avail. I got up and took a shower. I used the forced 5:30am Animal Farm wake-up call to take pictures of the village as it shook off its morning fog. It was actually amazing once I set eyes on it. A light morning mist lay over the valley. If I could just get the damn roosters to shut up, it would be perfection. Fine, I’ll take what I can get. I can enjoy this.

The children of the village were up early, playing with the dogs and peering through the bamboo walls of the guest house at our new friends. They were really cute. I am not sure if this is how they always acted with trekkers or if we were particularly entertaining (I would hope our rendition of Fresh Prince would raise our stature in the village versus past groups). Either way, it worked on me. I thought they were great. I saw the small classroom for Lahu which consisted of several bamboo benches and a blackboard under a bamboo and thatch roof. I wondered who the teacher was. Maybe a single parent taught reading and writing and math, or maybe various adults in the village alternated. Smattered across the village were several solar panel arrays. Not every house had one, but there about five were, connected to what appeared to be the ‘wealthy’ homes.

After our breakfast of toast and hardboiled eggs we started the day’s trek across a rickety bamboo bridge. Toto told me that they use 6-month old bamboo to build their bridges because they are stronger than older bamboo. We all got across fine, but it looked like something out of Indiana Jones. The day was hot, humid and rain-free, but significantly uphill for the first 2.5 hours. Again, I was sweating like a felon. Yuk. For the rest of the morning it was flat or downhill until we got to the river, to my great relief.

At the river, our good friend, The Doctor, fell asleep under a thatch roof which acted as the cooking area. Toto, and our new friend, The Old Man, cooked up some noodles and broke out the Diet Cokes. Ramen with chili sauce and Diet Coke was like heaven. I didn’t want anything else, this was perfect. Something nice and warm. We also had the opportunity to watch The Old Man finish making our bamboo rafts for the day. Robin, Usi, Lennon and I followed him to the river, collecting some bamboo along the way. The raft was constructed of twenty foot long bamboo poles lashed together with thin strands of bamboo. A single thicker branch ran along the middle of the raft on the top, almost like an upside-down keel. He then added two upside-down V-shaped bamboo branches to the middle of the raft to hold our bags. Robin and I both climbed on the rafts and tested out the buoyancy. Wow, that really help up! We gave The Old Man a thumbs up as we started to walk back to the lunch area, and he responded by patting Robin on the butt and smacking my belly. What? You think I’m the American Buddha? Awesome, at least he thinks I’ll float if I fall over-raft.

After lunch we broke into two groups and waved good-bye to The Doctor. According to Toto, The Doctor doesn’t swim. The Old Man would pilot our second raft. My boat, piloted by Toto, included Emily (the Swede), Courtney (the Aussie) and Usi (the American). No one wore shoes on the raft, and the whole fun of the trip was balancing yourself while dodging branches that came whipping by. Two of us had 10 foot bamboo poles to help steer the raft by push on the left or right. Courtney decided that he didn’t really want to steer, so he threw his pole into the river. It was funny, but then we were down one pole as we went into the larger rapids. The rapids were small, nothing larger than a big riffle, but a lot of fun.

The rafting lasted about 1.5 hours. When we finished, we walked up to a small village where Robin and I met our transportation back to Chiang Mai. The winding drive through the mountains on the way back was spectacular. About 3 or 4 hours. We stopped at a gas station mini-mart on the way back, pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and when Robin and I walked in, all three girls behind the counter got wide-eyed, giggled and starting chatting to each other quickly. I think they knew we were kind of big deals. You know, Californians.

Upon returning to the Libra Guest House, we showered (thank god), changed, and decided to go for a Thai massage. I’m not a massage person myself, but thought I might as well get a massage while I was here. We went to the place next door, recommended by the hotel, and got a two for 300 Baht deal ($9). They asked if we would be in the same room, and we said, yes, we’d like to be separate. The proprietor, a bald dude who didn’t speak English very well, nodded and gave us a change of clothes. We changed and followed him around the corner to another location. He opened a rusting iron gate and took us to a loft area of a garage. What? The loft also had a curtain and then three mats… I guess he didn’t understand that we wanted to be separate. Fine. We left the middle mat empty. Robin’s masseuse came in and started. Later, he told me she was really strong, really digging in to him. The lights were still on and the music didn’t cover the ambient street noise. There was also a neon Buddha, kind of tacky. The whole ambience was about as relaxing as a Monster Car Truck Rally. Lying on my back, eyes closed, I felt someone grab my feet. I look up, and see the bald dude, who I shall now refer to as Uncle Fester. I was obviously freaked, and anyone who knows me will say that I can’t hide my emotions on my face. Uncle Fester agreed. I asked if there was anyone else, and he said no. Crap. Well, okay. I had to think of random things to not laugh. I couldn’t help cracking up halfway through. Robin could barely contain himself. With about 10 minutes left, some big fat British guy plops down between the two of us and starts his massage. Ambience, not so much. Good massage, I have to admit, it was good. Definitely helped after the hike.

Afterwards, Robin and I went to dinner at Ginger Café, a cool little restaurant with an outdoor area near the ringroad. Once again, we stuck to the Thai menu. We really haven’t gone wrong on local food since we’ve arrived, hopefully we’ll keep that up! Tomorrow we head for Luang Prabang, Laos. We’ve heard great things about Laos, lots of kayaking and rafting and other outdoor options. We are really looking forward to continuing with that.

Day 4 - September 21 - Chiang Mai to Lahu Village

2009-09-29T07:25:00.000-07:00

Early morning wake-up call. We’re off to our trek near the Thai/Burmese boarder. Eight of us piled into the converted pickup truck and drove two hours to the trailhead. On the way we stopped at a small market to pick up any last minute provisions. Robin and I got some water, repellent and shampoo. My hair is starting to get mighty greasy and for the benefit of my fellow travelers, I thought some shampoo would do us well.

At the trailhead we put on our packs and started the 2.5 hour hike to a waterfall and pool. This was sold to us as an incredible sight. We would jump into a large picaresque pool and frolic in the water for an hour or so. At least, the people in the pictures had fun! First off, the trail had obviously not been traversed by hordes and hordes of Western tourists, which had been our initial fear. In fact, it was pretty wild and untamed. We had two guides, the English speaking Toto and the local hilltribesman we all called The Doctor. He was The Doctor, Toto eventually told us, because he had smoked more opium than anyone else in the village. Great. Tribesman Opium, MD. The Doctor had a machete and cut through the brush almost constantly. And this isn’t President Bush at the Crawford Ranch brush. This is serious bamboo-shoots and palm branch brush. The trail was also relatively muddy, as we are hear at the end of the rainy season. Robin had on his Vibram shoes (see link, no real explanation) and I had on my massive boots. We both did fairly well trudging through the mud. I, on the other hand, did not do so well with the incredible humidity. We already know that Kevin enjoys the dry heat and does not operate at his full potential in humid climates. I was schvitzing like I was running laps in a sauna.

Anyway, we got to the waterfall. It was nice enough. I enjoyed jumping in and cooling off. But there was no sun out and the clouds forming were looking ominous. So after 40 minutes messing around at the waterfall, we packed it up and called it a day. Time to push for the village. This was an uphill climb for about 30-45 minutes and the rain started coming down. The Doctor cut down some large palm leaves and made them into hats for us (I looked like a more eco-minded Gandalf from Lord of the Rings). They actually did keep the rain off and were helpful, until I did not see the branch in front of my face since the ‘bill’ of the hat was too far down my face and I smacked right into the branch. Not a lot of fun.

The rain slowed to couple of drops as we approached Lahu Village. We passed through the rice paddies surrounding the village as we got closer, and the view as the sun was setting was spectacular. The shallow water all around us shimmered as the sky turned gold. It was amazing.

We arrived at a small hilltribe village with maybe 30 or 35 huts. No one really paid us any attention as we entered and got ourselves settled. There was a guest hut for tourists. We each had a pad to sleep on, with a couple of blankets, and a mosquito net above us. After spending the night there, I wouldn’t really expect they got more than 15 to 18 tourists a week in the high season, but I am sure that is a welcome boon to their economy. The bathroom was a hole and the shower was a bucket of water with a smaller bucket to pour the water on yourself. It served its purpose. There was a cooler outside with sodas and bottled water for sale, 20 Baht per soda, 15 Baht per water. Altogether, a very nice place for a bunch of Western trekkers to see a local culture.

Robin and I went around to take pictures of the village. Chickens, pigs, roosters, ducks and dogs wandered the area freely. When we walked away from the guest hut, some children came up to see us. We started playing with them, showing them our cameras and showing them pictures. I still had some pictures from New York on my camera: the Highline, Flatiron and Empire State Building. When I showed these pictures to the children, they repeated, “Noo Yak!” It was really cute. One particular family of two brothers and a sister thought we were hilarious and proceeded to fight each other for our enjoyment. I guess siblings are the same everywhere.

Dinner was served soon after. Curry and rice. It was awesome. I think it was a green curry, but Toto was not really sure, he just said ‘curry.’ After dinner, we started telling stories with our new trekking friends. Someone brought up worst foods ever, and I knew I had the winner. I asked the two Swedish girls with us if they ever had surstromming. Ewwwww, yelled Emily. No, that is what our fathers eat in the late summer. It is disgusting. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure, it is disgusting. It is fermented herring, canned in an aluminum can which can expand to accommodate the gas emitted by the fermenting fish. It is awful, and can only be opened outside since the stench is so strong and pungent. Daniel Rovira provided it to us in Lake Tahoe a few years back. I vomited right there and Chris Stallsworth vomited that night. Worst thing ever. So, I won. We also spoke about our homes. Courtney, the Aussie dude, asked me about LA. I told him about Santa Monica and the Westside beaches. He said, “hey, isn’t that where all the Mexican eses live?” I shook my head, what? Eses? Has anyone used that word since 1996? He must be watching Baywatch reruns. Then 23-year old Usi asked Robin if he felt too old to be doing things like this. Yes, at 26 and 27, we are ancient and about to die. Thanks for making us feel old.

After our stories, Toto announces Night Bazaar! Crap! We got rushed by local women shoving bracelets and headbands and other textiles in our faces. All crap, once again, likely produced in China. I bought a bracelet for 10 Baht to make her go away. Others were not so lucky. Courtney bought a headband and Usi ended up with various ‘gifts.’ Then the children came to sing us songs. They started with Kumbaya and moved on to Jingle Bells. After those two gems they moved onto local Thai songs. That was all cute. Then they asked us to sing a song for them. So, we sang the theme to Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. They were confused. I don’t think they ever heard that one before. So we gave them Wonderwall and Row Row Row Your Boat. That was a crowd-pleaser. Then the girls distributed the candy they brought for the kids. Note to self. Next time, bring candy for the kids.

As the children ran away, Toto told us we could mill around and talk, go to sleep, or talk to The Doctor about other options. Our male comrades decided to take The Doctor up on his medicine and had some opium at 100 Baht a hit ($3). Robin and I retired like the old folks we are. Tomorrow is river rafting!

Day 3 - September 20 - Chiang Mai

2009-09-29T05:09:00.000-07:00

After a long train ride, we arrive in Chiang Mai, a Thai city in the north of the country. This city’s economy is heavily dependent on tourism, which is obvious from one’s first moments. As the train pulled into the station, dozens of representatives of guest houses and hotels and trekking operators poured onto the arrival platform. It was a sea of people shouting “A/C – 400 Baht!” “Free Wifi… Free Wifi!” We made our way through the madness and got a map. As we started to think about walking into town and figuring out our trek and hotel accommodations, a woman came up to us and offered to take us into town for free if we checked out her hotel. She said, “If you don’t like it, leave. We don’t need you.” And we actually believed her.

We got to the car, a pick-up truck converted to a van with two benches lining the bed and a canopy. The same thing would be described as a “tuk-tuk” if there was no real cabin, if the passenger area were pulled by a scooter. Those are fun. Upon arriving at the Libra Guest House, we were told about a trek leaving the next day for a village near the Burmese boarder. After haggling, changing our minds, and negotiating for a departure the second day versus the third, we settled on the trek for the next two days at 4,000 Baht a head (about $114 each). The actual 2-day trek cost 2,500 Baht but we had to arrange separate transport back which was 1,500. And we took a room at the Libra Guest House. Turns out, the place was awesome and the Thai proprietors are a very nice family. A/C and hot water for 350 Baht a night ($10).

We also sent away for our Vietnamese visas (2,200 Baht for two day service). We thought it would be a good time to get those done while we were hiking.

All around the guest house were other similar places of varying quality. Some were showing Premiere League football and serving Sunday roasts, and, naturally, packed with Brits on holiday. Others had pool tables and were frequented by Aussies and Americans. The Happy Hippy House was full of stumbling kids of various ages and nationalities. They had a Happy Hippy Happy Hour from 3pm to 9pm. We skipped that. Instead, Robin and I went to cooking school. Yeah, we’re badass.

Cooking school was a non-event. We had fun, being the only two in class. First we went to a market and learned about spices and curries and coconuts. We also learned everything there is to know about fish oil. Have to say, most of this is not going to translate when I get back to Trader Joe’s. We made some good soup and curries, so dinner was good.

Back at the guest house, we made our way to the Night Bazaar. When someone in Thailand suggests you visit the Night Bazaar, say, no thanks, nicely yet firmly. They are filled with crap. Just tourist souvenirs and trinkets probably made in China. If I’m going to buy something, I want to support local artisans, not the subjugation of the local population to cheap trinkets.

All said, it was a good, productive day. I guess a verdict on today will depend on the trekking experience.

Day 2 - September 19 - Bangkok to Chiang Mai

2009-09-28T18:10:00.000-07:00

Got to get to the Grand Palace and Temple of the Emerald Buddha, today. That is pretty much our goal. We took the Sky Train to the river boat, again, and made our way up the river to the palace. One thing I wasn't expecting would be the shear number of 7-Elevens in Bangkok. They are everywhere. We stopped for breakfast: bottled water, red bull and yogurt. I'm constantly freaking out about what kind of food would be good/bad/indifferent. The doctor said no watery fruits like melons, so I bought strawberry yogurt. Not bad. The red bull is fantastic here! It is not carbonated, and tastes like really good cough syrup. Yum!

We walked to the Palace. Huge place. Our first stop was the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. The Emerald Buddha was carved from a piece of jade in the 1400s and made its way between Chiang Rai, Chiang Mai and Luang Prabang before being settled in the Grand Palace in the late 1700s. Although small (about 45 cm), it is beautiful and evokes deep reverence from the local population. While sitting in the temple, taking in the surroundings, I get a tap on the back. 'Excuse me,' a guy in his 40s with a German accent says, 'is that the Lowepro slingback camera bag? It looks great!' Leave it to me to find a German in an amazing temple who wants to talk about camera equipment.

The Grand Palace is a large complex of various buildings. The grounds were amazing, bright colors, flags, parks, what you would expect from a palace.

After, we booked it back to the hotel so we wouldn't miss check-out. Actually, we got there an hour early since my watch was still on Hong Kong time. We showered and changed (it's so humid here, I need to shower like 3 times a day) and then made our way to the train station. When we got out of the subway, there was a massive thunder storm. Robin and I are good at just missing the storms. Same thing happened in Rome three years ago when we got to Campo de' Fiori. So we had dinner at Anna's Kitchen, very good Thai food, and each had a big Singha beer, and waited for the night train to Chiang Mai. It's a sleeper train where the bottom chairs fold our into one bed and there is a ceiling compartment for the second bed. We both slept fairly well on the train, good times. And after 12.5 hours, we're in Chiang Mai.

Day 1 - September 18 - Bangkok, Thailand-

2009-09-28T08:26:00.001-07:00

Finally made it to Bangkok. We booked a hotel since we weren't sure where we were going to go afterwards, but, apparently, this is not a very obvious hotel and the cab driver had significant issues finding it. But I was happy just sitting in his car. His music tastes were quite good: America's Sister Golden Hair and some Creedence Clearwater.

We get to the hotel and head out to the Vietnamese Embassy to see if we can get our visas. On the way a random Thai dude literally bumps into us and tells us the Embassy is closed, we should go to a travel agent to have the visas done. Our first scam! We say, no thanks, talk to you later. Embassy is open and available for visas, but it would take the weekend. We decide to get the visa later, and hit up the Wat Pho now. We took the Sky Train (Bangkok's light rail system) to a boat on the river and go to Wat Pho. Their public transport is fantastic.

Wat Pho is incredible. It is a huge complex of various temples and stupas. The most impressive with the Temple of the Reclining Buddha. A huge hall with a statue of Buddha lying down, maybe 50 feet long. Inside the temple is a constant 'ding ding' sound from worshippers throwing donations into steel jars arranged at the back of the temple. Very cool. The colored glass and gold spires reflect the light across the temple grounds, creating an interesting shimmering effect on the entire site.

After the Wat, we decided to have drinks at the Mandarin Oriental, near the Sky Train and on the river. We had some interesting cocktails (Thai Sour, Mandarin Orange Vodkas, etc) as the sun was setting over the Chao Phraya river. Long boats and junks plied the river loudly in the waning daylight and eventually lit up with Christmas lights. It would have been cheesey if it wasn't so cool. We ended up staying for dinner and had great, spicy Thai food. I'm a fan.

Starting to get hit by jetlag, we decide to call it a night, and we went to get a taxi. Our driver was insane, constantly offering us various 'shows' for 200 Baht. Good for you... Good for me! was his mantra. We just said, take us to the Park Plaza, dude. Thanks.

Overall, a great first day. Tomorrow on the Chiang Mai.

Day 0 - September 17 - San Francisco to Bangkok

2009-09-28T08:16:00.000-07:00

After leaving Los Angeles, I got to have the best layover possible in San Francisco. I took the earlier flight arriving in SF at 6pm and proceeded to the Mission District to have dinner with my sister, Megan. We met up, had a couple of drinks and then had dinner at a great Italian place called Farina.

It was a lot of fun catching up with Megan about work and life. SF is a great place and I know how much she loves it there. I'm definitely a fan. After dinner we got ice cream. She had to talk the angry tired hippy into letting us in since it was closing time. She stuck her foot in the door and didn't let him close it, and rather than have a prolonged argument with an ice cream-craving girl, he caved. It was really good.

Off to the airport where I met up with Bot-Miller. Flight was fine. Loooooong, but fine. 14 hours, but I bought the business class RTW ticket, so I got to chill by watching some movies and reading. Bought the Dan Brown book, The Lost Symbol. Eh.

The Adventure Begins

2009-09-28T08:04:00.000-07:00

So, I meant to start this blog from the get go, but that didn't happen as planned. So I will give you a quick recap on the past week in the first few posts.

I started this trip because after four years working in private equity, it was time for a break. With the economy in upheaval, my desire for a change from the industry, and a lot of encouragement, an around the world trip went from a pipedream to reality.

So, flying from New York to Los Angeles and then to San Francisco, I started my trip with Robin Bot-Miller, a buddy from GS. Here is how it has gone so far.