You Shy?

I hope not, because this is your introduction to the Japanese bath:

Step 1 - Pay, if necessary.

Step 2 - Step to the hall with the appropriate gender. I've learned that the Japanese character for women kind of looks like a woman. You'll know real fast if you've made a mistake.

Step 3 - Enter the vestibule and remove your shoes.

Step 4 - Locker room, but don't think gym class. There's carpet (you're not wearing shoes) and a wall full of shelves. Put your clothes in a hole. Leave your bath towel too - it's just you and a wash cloth from here on out.

Step 5 - Shower room. Sit down - that's right - sit down at a shower. Mind the playing children, grab a shower head and a bar of soap, and go at it. The Japanese women are at this for at least 10 minutes. Wash everything before

Step 6 - Tub time. The water is 45 degrees C. Sit and soak. Chat - if you're so inclined - or admire the murals till good and pruny.

Step 7 - Work backwards - minus the soap in Step 5 - till out. Done.

Sailing the High Seas

The morning of Tuesday, April 21st, I boarded another vessel. The Sun Zhou Hao - Shanghai, China to Osaka, Japan.

I wasn't expecting much. I'd booked the lowest class available - 2B economy, 16 bed female dorm - and had gotten a student discount. So considering the ferry's 48 hour duration and international destination - Japan is by no means a cheap country to travel in - the fair was pretty minimal.

Man was I pleasantly surprised. On the Yangtze, I remember being happy, but also wet, cold, and hungry. On the Sun Zhou Hao, this would definitely not be the case. The staff wore bow ties and panty hose. Televisions played English films for the enjoyment of reclining patrons. Shower rooms steamed with hot water.

And - the piece de resistance - our room. I opened the door to be confronted with another. Strange, but then I see the slippers and shoe cubbies. I love shoe cubbies, and the slippers even almost fit! The next door is made of wood and slides. Then, the smell of bamboo mats and I see three peculiar piles. I claim one by a window - whose screen I slide open to reveal the cobalt of the sea - and begin working it out. Thick mats on the bottom, sheet, duvet and cover, and - what's this square leather box? Oh... - pillow.

Giddy, I headed to the restaurant for more chopstick practice. We dock Thursday, April 23rd. Until then, I plan to skip through the carpeted halls, dodge ping pong balls and woman practicing T'ai Chi, and watch English action movies with the Chinese tourists who insist on spending the majority of the day lounging in their flannel pajamas.

The Three Gorges of the Yangtze

I've cruised the The Three Gorges of the Yangtze, Chinese style. It began on Friday, April 17th and ended Sunday the 19th. I understood not a word - save those spoken by the three other foreigners aboard - but I saw what there was to see.

It was more interesting than beautiful. China seems to be like that. That's not to say it wasn't beautiful. At the end of three days, I was still saying WOW aloud to the diving slopes of mist and green. I've never seen land meet water like that before.

Interesting though would be my word of choice. I shared a dorm with five people. They seemed to know each other - two couples and a lady. Middle class, late fifties. We had major communication issues. Ni hao (Hello), xie xie (thank you), and America were our only mutual means of understanding.

But they were so friendly. I was given a share of whatever was eaten, and the bilingual tour guide was always asked to translate questions when passing by our room. Your Uncle and Auntie wish to know... she would say.

China is changing fast, and you can tell. At Wushan, the Yangtze is now 75 meters higher than it was three years ago. High rise concrete apartments stand above the now underwater fishing villages. Suspension bridges in flaming orange red span tributaries and construction crews are making ready the hills for super highways.

That responsible for so grand a transformation we toured at cruise's end. The Three Gorges Dam - now the largest dam in the world. 1.4 miles from end to end. Capable of generating 22,500 MW. It's immense - power at a mammoth scale.

Wide-eyed and small, I stood alone at the concourse. Our guide - megaphone and pointer aloft - had moved on surrounded by my fellow cruisers - I couldn't understand her anyway. The words clean energy and at what cost? kept running through my mind. I don't know.

I don't know.

Pandas

When we arrived at the breeding center, we walked past the line hurrying to keep up with our guide as she clip-clopped ahead at an alarming rate given her three inch heels and short stature. We had come to see pandas - on the panda tour organized through Sim's Cozy Guest Hostel - and our guide would make sure we didn't miss their morning feeding.

Past Swan Lake, behind a holding pin, and out to an adult panda enclosure. There they were - only they weren't the docile, bamboo crunching bears I had expected. They were playing. Climbing, hanging, biting, rolling over each other playing. Cute they were though - unbelievably so. And when their squishy, fluffy bodies were bent or pulled too far they cried out with a meep more befitting a puppy than a bear, showed their pink little tongues, and carried on. Adorable.

Though reluctant to leave - our guide said she had never seen the adults so active - we continued down the age spectrum. The five month olds fulfilled my panda expectations. They relined with bamboo shots going every which way, chomping happily. At three months we found the fluff balls chasing each other around a nursery complete with rocking horse and incubator.

For a fee, you could have your photo taken with a panda. That was a bit too weird for our group so we moved on to the red pandas - which, to be honest, I barely knew existed -, the cinema - where a gaggle of Chinese kindergartners on field trip provided the majority of the entertainment -, the museum, and back to the van for the ride home.

The Road to China

I had thought my road to China would not lead through Tibet. I had spent over a week in Kathmandu learning that there was no possible way it could be. But then the American couple in front of me in Kathmandu's dreary two story brick faced airport asked whether this would be my first time to Lhasa.

Oh, no. I'm going to Chengdu.

Oh, well the flight stops in Lhasa and then continues to Chengdu. We're actually headed to Beijing.

Are you serious? After all that nonsense, it's now mandatory for me to set foot in Tibet. Incredible. We took this flight into Nepal - they're still talking. On the way in, it flew past Everest. We're hoping to see it again today.

I've seen Mt. Everest!! Everyone made a mad dash to the left side of the plane. I crouched, leaning over someone adjusting the settings of his camera thinking which one is it? Douh. The tallest one Brianna, the tallest one. And there it was. Its top a pyramid above the clouds, window level. The world's highest point. I got my camera in there and snapped a shot of my own before returning to my assigned seat. Mt. Everest!

We landed in Lhasa around two, but the two hour and fifteen minute time difference - I know right - made it after four. Everyone had to file out and through immigration and then, if continuing, get back on the plane. The landscape is surreal - a mountainous, snow-capped desert. It's sad that the most beautiful places of this earth are the most fought over. Logical, but sad.

Onward to Chengdu. If you picture China, Chengdu is the city smack dab in the middle of the country. Two more hours air time, but no time change as the entire country is on Beijing time. Again, I know right. Through security and here we go. China - let the language barrier fun begin.

It started right off the bat. Taxi. I got in line and got out my photocopied guidebook. Ripped out the map and the page with the hostel's address, and started circling: the name in English, the name in characters, the location on the map. I got to the front. My taxi pulled off to the side and driver and attendant mused and smiled at my pointing and waving until satisfied that the driver could find the place.

We drove until he ran out of intuition. He was trying to ask me something. Telephone. No, I don't have a cell phone. His cell phone? Ohhhh. I scan the guidebook once again, and show him the hostel's telephone number. He dials, converses, and gives me the thumbs up. We arrive, I pay, another thumbs up, a smile, and a wave bye-bye. Welcome to China.　

Chillin in Kathmandu

I'm in Nepal. I've been here awhile.

I crossed the border at Sunauli on April 3rd and braved the ten hour bus ride to the capital on a mission - cross into China through Tibet. It took me four days to ascertain that for me this would not be possible. By night five, I had a plane ticket to Chengdu.


Only, the plane doesn't leave until the 14th. So, for now, I'm chillin in Kathmandu.

Varanasi

Varanasi is an ancient city on a river. The Ganga - Ganges, as we call it - the River of Life to many in India. Varanasi is built on the western shore of one of the only places where the river flows north, allowing pilgrims to enter the water facing the rising sun. It's said to be a sacred city completely focused on the river. Giant stairs - ghats - lead down to the water's edge and everyday hundreds of people wash, bath, pray or have their ashes sprinkled into the water.

I went out of curiosity - famous last words. I had heard stories, read the bit in the guide book that spelled out how filthy the Ganga actually is, but still I wanted to see it. The best way is to hire a boatman to row you out upon the water. My host mother told me what the hourly rate should be, so I went down to the river and - after the appropriate amount of bargaining - we set off.

I'm enjoying it. It's not Venice, but it's nice. People are swimming, bathing, washing clothes. Boys are playing catch on the ghats and water buffaloes are being lead down to drink. But then - I see something floating in the water up ahead. Must be a cow, I think - it is black and white. Upon closer inspection, however, I am sickened to find that black and white does not necessarily signify bovine.

Now, I'm not a squeamish person. Blood and guts really don't bother me that much. I have issues with large arachnids and things to do with eyeballs, but apart from that, I'm pretty straightforward. I'm one of those people that when getting an injection prefers to watch the needle go into my arm so I can adequately prepare myself for what's coming. But. When that slimy, nasty, long-dead body hit the side of the boat, the only thought running through my mind was Lord, Jesus, please don't let me throw up. Please don't let me throw up.

And, then, there was very little I wanted to do apart from getting off that boat, getting away from that river, and getting the heck out of town.

The Taj Mahal

The morning was cold. Mist hung on grass grayed by the absence of sunlight as I stood huddled in the "Foreign Tourist" line. I was first and I was glad - I hadn't been up before the sun for nothing. As the line grew, the mosquitos gathered to eat it. I wrapped my shawl over my head and from inside my bubble, bowed it trying to remember all the things I know.

I've taken courses on the Taj Mahal - Non Western Architectural History was my favorite. My professor said he has never been more affected by a building. I know that the complex is a perfect exercise in symmetry. I know that the marble used in the mausoluem is so fine it reflects light causing the entire building to glow pink with the setting and the rising of the sun. And I know that - befitting its name, Love's Ultimate Monument - the man responsible for its construction nearly bankrupt his entire empire to see the work completed.

I'm still thinking when the brown clad security guards open the gate and the race begins: through security, into the first courtyard, turn, and - there it sits, a perfectly framed jewel in its Great Gate, step through, and behold.

It's - just - so - perfect