Whelp, I've been home for a week now and it feels pretty freaking amazing. Favorite experiences have been walking down the breakfast cereal aisle at the Kelso Safeway, showing my knees in public, and using my very own spotless, Western-style bathroom for as long as I pleased.
I've updated the map to show what actually happened, and have uploaded my final batch of pictures. I'd like to thank you for reading, for your thoughts, and for your prayers. I had an amazing trip, but when the road grew weary it meant a lot to me to know you were there supporting me. Thank you.
Yours Sincerely,
Brianna Craft
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
My Last New City
That's right! Can you believe it? My months of adventure are coming to a close. I'm in Beijing and this will be the last place in which I lay my head before I return to the United States of America.
Arrived Thursday, May 21st to this city of monumental attractions. Thus far, I've walked myself to exhaustion trying to see all the secrets of the Forbidden City, the charms of the Summer Palace, the turrets of the Great Wall, and the altars of the Temple of Heaven. I know no other modern city like Beijing. These 1000 year old historic icons are all easily reached by bus or subway. My $3 a night hostel is located in a hutong a ten minute walk from both Tiananmen Square and a glistening shopping center.
So many things converge here/clash here it's almost comical. On my way to the bus stop, I pass a sex shop rather overtly displaying it's products and yet I can't update my blog at an internet cafe - as of mid-May you must be registered with the police to post your opinion online. In the hutong, mothers carry babies with the crotches cut out of their pants past street carts and one-story, gray tile houses on roads too narr ow for cars. When they reach the multilane street of Meishi, they can board a brand new city bus equipped with televisions and handicap capacities that announces stops in both Chinese and English.
Today is Thursday - my last full day. Plane leaves tomorrow afternoon and will land in the US of A the evening of Friday, May 29th. My bag's packed, my money's spent, and I'm ready. I'm ready to come home.
Climate Change Take II
It's time for another installment of Brianna's Climate Change observations. Whereas my last installment addressed conversations I have had concerning the issue, I find that this time around observations are primarily what I have to share.
We begin in Fiji, where the water is hot. At school, we learn that as the atmosphere warms so does the ocean and this warming has all kinds of interesting effects. But off the Washington coast - in Seattle - this is difficult to gauge. The water's still pretty darn cold. It's not in Fiji. It's hot. That's really what struck me most - that's what I remember. The water off Mana was hot - like bath water, like at some points unpleasant to be in - hot. The coral was dead or dying, and I could feel why. And then the cyclone hit, and feed. It needed no further encouragement. Warmer water means more energy. The more energy in the water, the stronger the storm. This particular one grew to become Tropical Depression 04F of the 2008 - 2009 South Pacific cyclone season. I've never experienced a tropical storm before. It kept us up at night, stranded us - people missed buses, missed flights. People died. It wasn't even a "serious" storm. I bet it didn't even make the news back home.
As to the effect of warmer oceans the world is most worried about - rising sea levels - the observations I made on that account where made primarily in Bangladesh. I never did make it to Tuvalu, and the Maldives were just plain out of my price range before this trip even began. But of all places, Bangladesh is the place to witness how many people would be devastated by a rise in sea level. Millions. It makes New Orleans seem trifling - and it wasn't. But if we claim to have learned anything from witnessing the inequality of demographic most affected in our own delta, we should open our eyes and see the people who - on a world stage - shall also be injustly treated. No one has made evacuation preparations for them either, and no one really seems to care, or worse, think any need to be made.
India was different. Bigger, badder, more affluent, more noticable - different. If it hasn't already, India will surpass China as the world's most populous country. In turn, - if it hasn't already - China will surpass the United States in carbon dioxide emissions. I don't expect India will be far behind on that count either. They are both building. China much more noticeably, but both seem to think the more concrete in the air and cars on the ground, the better. When I arrived in China, I marveled at the width of the roads. I only noticed because they were nearly empty. New eight lane roadways with nothing but a few taxis. They've been built for the cars China hopes to have, and soon. One third of the world's concrete is in China. Everywhere you look something is going up. And there's no talk of conservation, the environment, even of eco-tourism.
In Japan, there were posters about carbon dioxide emissions. After signing of the Kyoto Protocol, Japan has taken some major steps toward reduction, but their total is till greater than all of Africa's - I read that on a poster reminding me to turn off the lights in my hostel. I've seen nothing like that in China. India at least gave lip service to a "green" infrastructure - mainly to accommodate eco-friendly tourism, but at least it's there. China just builds on. Another United States of America in carbon emissions. Oh man, does something need to be done.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Xi'an - Land of Buried Warriors
I went to see those famous on Saturday, May 16th. Qin Shi Huang's Army of Terracotta Warriors unearthed after standing guard over his body two thousand years.Each - thousands - of the lifesize soldiers is unique. Their face, hairstyle, armor distinct. I thought the Pharaohs claimed the prize for obsessive preparation for the afterlife - but this guy replicated his entire army. Horses and everything. I wonder what he thought was waiting for him on the other side.
Those not famous I saw on Monday, May 18th. The tomb of Emperor Jingdi. As he buried terracotta replicas of his entire court - livestock and all - the figures stand at only about two feet. The Emperor himself lies under a massive earthen mound in a burial complex also containing the tomb of his favorite empress.I climbed her mound to survey the landscape, trying to imagine what it must have looked like: tens of thousands of workers digging under a midday sun not dulled by pollution; artisans molding, firing, painting, dressing their earthen representations; eunuchs and the women of the court overseeing their progress from shaded places, their silken robes billowing around them.
It just seems too ridiculous a thought to be believed by anyone - that you can take it all with you. They certainly did try though. I left, amazed by their effort.
Those not famous I saw on Monday, May 18th. The tomb of Emperor Jingdi. As he buried terracotta replicas of his entire court - livestock and all - the figures stand at only about two feet. The Emperor himself lies under a massive earthen mound in a burial complex also containing the tomb of his favorite empress.I climbed her mound to survey the landscape, trying to imagine what it must have looked like: tens of thousands of workers digging under a midday sun not dulled by pollution; artisans molding, firing, painting, dressing their earthen representations; eunuchs and the women of the court overseeing their progress from shaded places, their silken robes billowing around them.
It just seems too ridiculous a thought to be believed by anyone - that you can take it all with you. They certainly did try though. I left, amazed by their effort.
Shanghai's Famous Dumplings
I'm standing in a line of about thirty people. It moves relatively fast - about seven people to every cloud of steam that escapes the open windows. The smell this cloud releases is torturous. We're waiting for food.I've yet to write about the food of China. And - as you can imagine - food's on my mind at the moment, so now seems to be a perfect opportunity. I must begin by saying that with the exception of sweet and sour chicken no meal I've consumed in China has even remotely resembled anything we in America call "Chinese" food. It's all been much, much better.
The first meal was one of the best. Met two American girls while checking-in in Chengdu. They were in China studying Chinese and happened to be on their way to dinner. They ordered while I sat still groggy from the flight and watched cups of tea, bowls of rice, and steaming dishes issue forth from the kitchen.Pick up your rice bowl and spin the Lazy Susan to claim your selection. Greens in a tangy sauce, corn, chicken with chili and peanuts, tofu in spicy gravy, sauteed eggplant and green beans - all have passed from my rice bowl to my chopsticks to my mouth with great satisfaction. But restaurant dining is but a small portion of the Chinese school of cuisine. I prefer food served on the street.
I hold this preference for several reasons. First, restaurants for a single, non-Mandarin speaker can be rather awkward. I have "ordered" multiple times by taking a waiter around the restaurant and pointing at whosever's dish looks most appealing. A street cart eliminates this awkwardness. They only serve one or two things, and pointing is the standard ordering practice. Also, you watch them make whatever it is that you're about to eat - which is fun in and of itself - and sometimes you can get them to leave out ingredients that you're pretty sure you could do without. Favorite purchases have been: the spicy meat kabobs of Sichuan; noodles with greens in a sweet and sour soy sauce; and the fried duck egg pancake with red chili. Another bonus to street food is that I've yet to purchase anything that costs more than a dollar.
But now I'm in line to sample xiaolongboa, Shanghai's famous dumpling. Wait - I'm up. 12 yuan (7 yuan = 1 dollar) for one bamboo steamer full. Oh - they're hot. Wow, but good! They're small and stuffed with meat and you dip them - they're still slippery, so it's though with chopsticks - in a tangy brown sauce. Mmmmmmm. Alright, I'll catch you later. These dumplings need my full attention.
The first meal was one of the best. Met two American girls while checking-in in Chengdu. They were in China studying Chinese and happened to be on their way to dinner. They ordered while I sat still groggy from the flight and watched cups of tea, bowls of rice, and steaming dishes issue forth from the kitchen.Pick up your rice bowl and spin the Lazy Susan to claim your selection. Greens in a tangy sauce, corn, chicken with chili and peanuts, tofu in spicy gravy, sauteed eggplant and green beans - all have passed from my rice bowl to my chopsticks to my mouth with great satisfaction. But restaurant dining is but a small portion of the Chinese school of cuisine. I prefer food served on the street.
I hold this preference for several reasons. First, restaurants for a single, non-Mandarin speaker can be rather awkward. I have "ordered" multiple times by taking a waiter around the restaurant and pointing at whosever's dish looks most appealing. A street cart eliminates this awkwardness. They only serve one or two things, and pointing is the standard ordering practice. Also, you watch them make whatever it is that you're about to eat - which is fun in and of itself - and sometimes you can get them to leave out ingredients that you're pretty sure you could do without. Favorite purchases have been: the spicy meat kabobs of Sichuan; noodles with greens in a sweet and sour soy sauce; and the fried duck egg pancake with red chili. Another bonus to street food is that I've yet to purchase anything that costs more than a dollar.
But now I'm in line to sample xiaolongboa, Shanghai's famous dumpling. Wait - I'm up. 12 yuan (7 yuan = 1 dollar) for one bamboo steamer full. Oh - they're hot. Wow, but good! They're small and stuffed with meat and you dip them - they're still slippery, so it's though with chopsticks - in a tangy brown sauce. Mmmmmmm. Alright, I'll catch you later. These dumplings need my full attention.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Swine Flu
I knew we were in trouble when I saw the booties. Anyone can wear a body suit, a face mask, gloves, and goggles - but when you think it necessary to cover your feet, you're taking something pretty seriously.
We'd been docked in Shanghai for over an hour. They wouldn't let us off the boat. I had my temperature taken, was asked whether I'd been in close contact with pigs recently - I had to suppress a rather strong desire to ask whether they considered digestion close contact -, and was made to sign a form stating I had not had any physical symptom of any possible illness for the past two weeks.
But Amy - poor Amy - wasn't feeling well. She'd complained of a headache and dizziness our second day aboard, but I didn't attribute it to anything but the stuffiness of our room and the fact that we were out at sea. She left in an ambulance with the man wearing the booties, a mask over her face. Poor girl.
After she left, we waited. Those quarantined by the Japanese had been all over the news. I really didn't want to spend another week on the boat, so I sat in the lobby with the other foreigners wondering what the heck was going on. Half an hour later, as if by some announcement - probably in Chinese - everyone filed off the boat.
Welcome back to China.
We'd been docked in Shanghai for over an hour. They wouldn't let us off the boat. I had my temperature taken, was asked whether I'd been in close contact with pigs recently - I had to suppress a rather strong desire to ask whether they considered digestion close contact -, and was made to sign a form stating I had not had any physical symptom of any possible illness for the past two weeks.
But Amy - poor Amy - wasn't feeling well. She'd complained of a headache and dizziness our second day aboard, but I didn't attribute it to anything but the stuffiness of our room and the fact that we were out at sea. She left in an ambulance with the man wearing the booties, a mask over her face. Poor girl.
After she left, we waited. Those quarantined by the Japanese had been all over the news. I really didn't want to spend another week on the boat, so I sat in the lobby with the other foreigners wondering what the heck was going on. Half an hour later, as if by some announcement - probably in Chinese - everyone filed off the boat.
Welcome back to China.
Osaka
They drove a van. A dark green member of the family. Toto - a miniature dotson - at the helm. Minako Mizoguchi's family, my guides to Osaka for my final days in Japan.
As a student, she had come to California to learn English. She stayed with a host family. Now - though she says a good deal of her English knowledge is gone - she's opened her home up to students. I really appreciated it.
The things we saw were pretty neat: the Umeda Sky Bridge, Osaka Castle, Shitennoji Temple, the Osaka Aquarium. The things we ate were amazing - all except the Takoyaki (octopus balls), which I did not enjoy. But what I most liked was just being part of a family again before I set off once more to sea.
As a student, she had come to California to learn English. She stayed with a host family. Now - though she says a good deal of her English knowledge is gone - she's opened her home up to students. I really appreciated it.
The things we saw were pretty neat: the Umeda Sky Bridge, Osaka Castle, Shitennoji Temple, the Osaka Aquarium. The things we ate were amazing - all except the Takoyaki (octopus balls), which I did not enjoy. But what I most liked was just being part of a family again before I set off once more to sea.
A Week in Kyoto
Day 1- Setsuko walked me to the station and I was off. Bound for Kyoto, negotiation site of a protocol studied in universities the world over by environmental studies students. I was looking forward to it.
Arrived half an hour later at Kyoto Station, where the architecture student in me ran wild. It's intense, a design studio professor's dream. I spent the better part of that rainy day wandering through, over, and under it. Google image it - it's worth it.
Day 2 - On to Kyoto's historic side, with a tour of the Imperial Palace. Kyoto served as the capital of Japan beginning in the 8th century, and was the home of the Japanese imperial family from 794 to 1868 - so says my guidebook.
I can tell you that the palace is beautiful in it's minimalist perfection. The gravel is combed and the trees obsessively manicured.
Day 3 - Got my first glimpse of Japanese castle architecture at Nijo jo - castle of the first Tokugawa shogun. This guy must have had to watch his back. The floors are designed to squeak and hidden chambers concealed bodyguards prepared to defend their lord at any moment.
I then went to a temple on a hill. It was warm and the walk steep, so I sat on some shaded steps to picnic. As I was finishing, two of the people I had most wanted to see while in Kyoto began to - slowly - descend the stairs opposite me.
Geishas! Painted, kimono clad "artists". This surprise meeting wouldn't be my only on that day. Back at the hostel - over dinner - met two fellow travelers. Together we went to a show at Gion Corner. Among the acts was a Kyomai - traditional Kyoto kimono dance - performance. The English program instructed us to enjoy the elegant movements of the dancers. I did.
Day 4 - Now that I had taken the prep course, I was prepared for advanced Japanese castle architecture: Himeji. Rode the train for an hour and there it was. Oh man - the Japan of fairytales and childhood imaginings still stands on its original stone foundations in this place.
See the pictures - my words can't do it justice.
Day 5 - The day of movie sets. First off to the bamboo groves of Arashiyama. Remember the characters of "Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon" flying through forests of green? I observed from the ground licking green tea ice cream and watching the Japanese school kids give smiling peace signs to their friend's camera phones.
Next to the prayer scene from "Memoirs of a Geisha". A hill full of orange torii (gates) beheld the boisterous meeting of this American and a fro sporting 24 year old Canadian. We had a good time - we toned it done though once we were told to hush. Opps. Nursed our bruised decorums at a conveyor belt sushi place back at Kyoto Station.
Day 6 - Time for a green day. Strolled for hours in Kyoto's impressive Botanical Gardens. Favorite things were the display Bonsai trees and the massive conservatory. Those and the snake I spied by a pond too full of duck eggs to move.
Day 7 - Gold week - a week of public holidays - was upon Japan, and in celebration a Yabusame demonstration was held at the Shimogamo Shrine. Mounted archers dressed in traditional garb struck targets no more than a foot square. The crowd cheered with well-deserved admiration at every successful aim.
Arrived half an hour later at Kyoto Station, where the architecture student in me ran wild. It's intense, a design studio professor's dream. I spent the better part of that rainy day wandering through, over, and under it. Google image it - it's worth it.
Day 2 - On to Kyoto's historic side, with a tour of the Imperial Palace. Kyoto served as the capital of Japan beginning in the 8th century, and was the home of the Japanese imperial family from 794 to 1868 - so says my guidebook.
I can tell you that the palace is beautiful in it's minimalist perfection. The gravel is combed and the trees obsessively manicured.
Day 3 - Got my first glimpse of Japanese castle architecture at Nijo jo - castle of the first Tokugawa shogun. This guy must have had to watch his back. The floors are designed to squeak and hidden chambers concealed bodyguards prepared to defend their lord at any moment.
I then went to a temple on a hill. It was warm and the walk steep, so I sat on some shaded steps to picnic. As I was finishing, two of the people I had most wanted to see while in Kyoto began to - slowly - descend the stairs opposite me.
Geishas! Painted, kimono clad "artists". This surprise meeting wouldn't be my only on that day. Back at the hostel - over dinner - met two fellow travelers. Together we went to a show at Gion Corner. Among the acts was a Kyomai - traditional Kyoto kimono dance - performance. The English program instructed us to enjoy the elegant movements of the dancers. I did.
Day 4 - Now that I had taken the prep course, I was prepared for advanced Japanese castle architecture: Himeji. Rode the train for an hour and there it was. Oh man - the Japan of fairytales and childhood imaginings still stands on its original stone foundations in this place.
See the pictures - my words can't do it justice.
Day 5 - The day of movie sets. First off to the bamboo groves of Arashiyama. Remember the characters of "Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon" flying through forests of green? I observed from the ground licking green tea ice cream and watching the Japanese school kids give smiling peace signs to their friend's camera phones.
Next to the prayer scene from "Memoirs of a Geisha". A hill full of orange torii (gates) beheld the boisterous meeting of this American and a fro sporting 24 year old Canadian. We had a good time - we toned it done though once we were told to hush. Opps. Nursed our bruised decorums at a conveyor belt sushi place back at Kyoto Station.
Day 6 - Time for a green day. Strolled for hours in Kyoto's impressive Botanical Gardens. Favorite things were the display Bonsai trees and the massive conservatory. Those and the snake I spied by a pond too full of duck eggs to move.
Day 7 - Gold week - a week of public holidays - was upon Japan, and in celebration a Yabusame demonstration was held at the Shimogamo Shrine. Mounted archers dressed in traditional garb struck targets no more than a foot square. The crowd cheered with well-deserved admiration at every successful aim.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Nara
We met at ten o'clock in front of the Gakuenmae train station on Saturday, April 25th in Nara, Japan. Her name is Setsuko Okabe and for the next three days, she would be my host mother.
We drove - on the left - through the rain to her flat. I took pictures as she raised her neighbor's car to access her parking space - space efficiency is everything here. And along with it comes buttons and flashing lights. Even her bathroom is automated. The lid raises when you walk in, the seat warms itself when sat upon, and a panel of buttons lets you personalize your bum wash. When you flush the sink built into the toilet's back turns on. Wow.
We ate Japanese food in her dining room and out at restaurants. My favorite - though not an entirely new experience - was our trip to a conveyor belt sushi place. I'm partial to eel, though salmon is always good. I found the octopus overly chewy. We also drank tea, ceremonial style. It was alright. It must be the ceremony that has the appeal.
We went out to see the sights. Todai-ji Daibutsu-den is the world's largest wooden building. It contains a massive Buddha and a column with a hole in its base the same size as his nostril. It's said that if you can squeeze through you're ensured enlightenment. Setsuko thought I could make it. My money was on me making it half way and being stuck forever. I graciously declined - I'll take my chances on obtaining enlightenment.
We talked - or rather she talked. She's 67 and she had a lot more to say about traveling. Lands with different people, different attitudes, different things to see. She said she once met a preacher in an airport who told her she would never travel alone. God is always with you. So see - she's talking to me now - you're never alone. I nod and smile - I know.
Monday, April 27, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, April 24, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
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.
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
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
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Raju
They arrived late in the season for their kind. Four of them. Our men - Tarro, Karfur, and the young one, Maman - saw them situated. Mine was the dark one: a female, and heavy. I lead them out across the barren planes that have been my home for fifteen years. We reached the sand by midday - the time when the humans must seek shelter from the heat. They did, leaving us to the sun. I settled near to watch our men prepare food, feed them, and leave them to rest in the shade.
We would bear them for four days. Our men would feed them - toast, eggs, and porridge - every morning and - dhal, rice, and chapati - every evening and afternoon, as they do with every load we've carried across the desert. After the sun sets they sing to them in the human language I understand - Rajasthani: the song about the tortured love of a man trapped behind the wall in Pakistan, silly songs about chickens and chai, and - on their final night - the song that celebrates the passing of another year. They laugh, jump and throw the beetles that roll away our dung, kill scorpions, and look at the sky. When they've gone to sleep on the metal frames that Kaloo carries from the village, our men extinguish the fire and see to us before retiring themselves.
Every day we ride. Our long legs easily covering the distance between the dunes of sand people are so fond of seeing. We stop once a day at the adobe villages that dot the landscape to drink and collect our food. The children of the villages run out to inspect our load. Sometimes the women sing to them or give them chai. These stops are our only contact with people other than our men and those we carry. Of our own kind and our wild relatives we see few. For this reason, I was glad to be ride of this load. Soon we'll be turned loose by our men's village as our desert will enter the season people have difficulty surviving. Those of us that have adopted humans will reunite and look after ours. For now, our men stand by the side of the road waving. Another group of people has looked their last on the land they had come so far to see, and is gone.
Raju
We would bear them for four days. Our men would feed them - toast, eggs, and porridge - every morning and - dhal, rice, and chapati - every evening and afternoon, as they do with every load we've carried across the desert. After the sun sets they sing to them in the human language I understand - Rajasthani: the song about the tortured love of a man trapped behind the wall in Pakistan, silly songs about chickens and chai, and - on their final night - the song that celebrates the passing of another year. They laugh, jump and throw the beetles that roll away our dung, kill scorpions, and look at the sky. When they've gone to sleep on the metal frames that Kaloo carries from the village, our men extinguish the fire and see to us before retiring themselves.
Every day we ride. Our long legs easily covering the distance between the dunes of sand people are so fond of seeing. We stop once a day at the adobe villages that dot the landscape to drink and collect our food. The children of the villages run out to inspect our load. Sometimes the women sing to them or give them chai. These stops are our only contact with people other than our men and those we carry. Of our own kind and our wild relatives we see few. For this reason, I was glad to be ride of this load. Soon we'll be turned loose by our men's village as our desert will enter the season people have difficulty surviving. Those of us that have adopted humans will reunite and look after ours. For now, our men stand by the side of the road waving. Another group of people has looked their last on the land they had come so far to see, and is gone.
Raju
Camel of the Thar
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