Last Post from Manila - *sniff sniff*

Karsts Karsts Karsts

Best to leave the photos to describe Yangshuo, one of the prettiest places we saw in China. The landscape is dominated by these spectacular, eerie limestone hills, aka "karsts." We spent a day cycling up and down the river and got lost in the rice paddies. We fortunately stumbled upon some Chinese tourists from Guilin, the nearby big city, who spoke English and helped us find our way out of the muddy maze. It's a refreshing change from big city China - really easy to get to the countryside, but the main drag offers Western amenities for the weary traveler.

The karsts also make Yangshuo a climbing paradise, with tons of well-protected sport and trad routes all over the place. We spent half a day with a guide and two Canadians at a great shady crag (see photo, crag on left). My forearms have shrunk to nothing, and I struggled to onsight a 5.8+, fell off a stiff 5.9, and abandoned a technical 5.10b midway. All this on top rope. Pathetic.






Teaching

We also spent two days volunteer teaching at local elementary schools in the countryside. Here you see Leslie, a former pro hockey player from Canada and organizer of Volunteer English Teachers: http://www.guilin-yangshuo.com/VET/index.html

It's a slapdash, but worthwhile affair. Leslie picked us up at a street corner and headed directly to the school. We prepped briefly in the car, and next thing you know, Jen and I were in front of 20 squirrely 4th graders armed only with flash cards. Despite the madness - and it was madness - it felt good being in front of a class again. The good old buzz kicked in immediately. Teaching just feels like second nature. I also found I could still give kids "the look" to quiet them down. Here's a shot of the kids from the second day, who were dramatically more attentive.



Unfortunately, Leslie is the first to admit that while his program leads to higher test scores, and the kids benefit marginally from hearing native speakers (their regular English teachers speak no English), the students are not learning any real English. Even the most advanced students, who have been at it for three or four years, can't read, write, or put together a sentence. They can however recognize many household nouns - shoes, cat, dog, horse, chicken, dress, etc. - the same way a beginning Chinese student can recognize characters. In addiiton, they can tell time (as long as it's at the top or bottom of the hour) and tell you what the weather is. Their poorly equipped teachers and the short term nature of the volunteers really makes it impossible to learn English in this environment. To be honest, while the experience was a lot of fun for all, I felt the volunteer teachers got more out of it than the kids.


Caving

On our last day in town, we rented a scooter and headed out to the Water Caves. Here's me in the mud bath.











Epilogue

We spent a couple of days in HK with my parents, shopping, enjoying the swank hotel room, and eating ridiculously well. GREAT dim sum. PAINFULLY spicy Sichuan food. The prawns were literally buried under a pile of peppers. Then a week in Manila. More shopping and eating, seeing family, three days at the beach, a fun pick up ultimate game. (Ultimate is huge here, with 95% locals.) We're headed back this afternoon.




Last Words

It amazes me every time I tell someone that we've been on the road since November. The first half of our trip has faded into a fond memory. Strangely, I'm not too concerned about readjusting to life back home. Honestly, given the opportunity to travel one more month, I wouldn't take it. (Well, OK, I'd jump on a chance to go bike touring in Italy and France.) All in all I'm truly satisfied with our trip and I'm ready to go home. Sure, having regular responsibilities will be jarring, but I look forward to seeing our house and friends, riding my bike, cooking in our kitchen. My friend's bachelor party is at the end of July in Mexico, and he's getting hitched in September, so there's more fun stuff in the future.

The last month has worked well as a transition into normal life. Big city China got us access to Western life, we saw old friends and hung out with non-backpackers, and Manila is familiar territory.

I know a couple of people are reading this while planning for a similar trip of their own. Please indulge me in offering a couple of things we learned along the way:

1. Find your comfort zone, then foray out of it every so often. At first I felt like we weren't really "traveling" unless we stayed at the crappiest hotel rooms, ate the sketchiest food, and roughed it on the most arduous treks. We soon found that we're more moderate backpackers, and that lifestyle was just unsustainable for seven months. At the same time, the expriences that will stick with me are the maggot infested toilet in Peru, the altitude sickness in Tibet, and sleeping with the Kazakh family in a yurt.

2. Keep a flexible schedule. Pre-booking can ease the mind, but will cramp your style if done in excess. In general, if you're in an area that's even moderately well-traveled, someone there can offer you the necessary service at a better price than a pre-arranged deal. With a flexible schedule, we could decide to go to Antarctica on a whim!

3. Take all advice, including this, with a grain of salt. The bad info/good info ratio in the backpacker network is probably 3 to 1. Best to sort things out on your own, while harvesting the nuggets of truth. The Lonely Planet Thorn Tree forum can be useful here. Just check out their website.

4. If you suspect you're carrying too much stuff, you're right. Especially in hot weather countries, you need very little to live happily. No need for sleeping bags in SE Asia or China. A silk or cotton liner might be nice, though, not really necessary. Unless you already have a bunch of good trekking gear you want to use, best to buy the cheap stuff while on the road, then ditch it as you go. Getting cheap gear in S America is more difficult, though.

Some key items I liked on the trip:
a. Hiking boots - we did a lot of trekking and I would hate to use cheap local brands or knockoffs. Heavy, but worth it for me.
b. Flip flops - Although they're real popular with backpackers, I think sport sandals look dumb. Flip flops are lighter, cooler, c. and more convenient to slip on and off.
d. LED Headlamp - for reading on overnight buses and trains, dorms, dark rooms in Tibet, trekking, etc. Light and lasts forever.
e. Tiger Balm - helps with nausea, bad odors, muscle problems.
f. Watch with a loud alarm - no need for a separate alarm clock if your watch can wake you up.
g. Sturdy water bottle - avoid excess buying and tossing of disposables.
h. Rechargeable AA batteries for camera - Electricity is widely available, so it's easy to recharge camera batteries. It's way more conveninent and cheap and avoids waste. If your camera doesn't accept AAs, bring at least one spare, two if you're in uncharted territory.
i. Ipod - I wasn't too concerned about breaking or losing it since it's a really really old model. Great on bus rides where it's too bumpy or windy to read. A headphone splitter jack is nice if there are two of you.
j. Guidebook - No matter how much "hardcore" backpackers may spurn this, I think it's really really helpful, particularly if you don't speak the language. For one, having a basic map of almost any major city is invaluable. I don't have much to say on the Rough Guide vs. Lonely PLanet debate. Either is fine. You can buy cheap knockoff copies if you happen to swing by Bangkok. Thanks to Sam and Dan for buying us all the Lonely Planets on our wedding registry!
k. Memory stick USB thingy - We got a USB thumb drive you can plug the digi cam memory stick into. This device lets you download pics onto a hard drive. This was invaluable in internet cafes without memory card readers.

5. You will get burnt out on a long trip. Don't worry about it. Treat yourself, relax, shake things up, and be patient. Things will pick up again.

I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Bye!

Bright Lights, Big City China

HK to Beijing

The 24 hour express train from HK to Beijing was a dream, with modern sleeper cars and very few passengers. Usually, hard sleepers are packed, with no empty beds. Also, being an HK line, the blaring PA system issued announcements in both English and Chinese. I always wondered what the hell the non-stop announcements on Chinese trains were about. Turns out they provide history lessons and background on the region you're passing through.

Our car had an unusual concentration of westerners - maybe a 50/50 split with locals. Amazing considering we usually don't see more than 2-3 westerners on any given train, much less a single car. Our neighbors included a old frail Frenchman teaching English in Beijing, an eager American with impressive Mandarin skills (self-taught over 3 years), a Norwegian who had just abandoned his pro-soccer career, his Swedish girlfriend, and a somewhat obnoxious Aussie spending three months traveling around the world. With the exception of the Frenchman, we hung out with this Fellowship of the Train over the next week in Beijing, visiting sites and going out at night.


A Brief Review of Bejing Tourist Spots

We did the Great Wall and Forbidden City. The views of the Wall snaking off into the foggy hills were certainly worthwhile, particularly because we avoided the more tour group swarmed/souvenir-choked sections. (Although the place we saw was far from souvenir-free. One lady doggedly followed us for 3 hours up and down the wall, despite our protests. I eventually broke and bought some postcards. Sucker.) My favorite part of the Forbidden City was the Starbucks counter located smack dab in the middle of the Palace. If there's a more striking sign of New China I don't know what it is.

We also swung by the Mao-sauleum in Tianamen Square. For my money this is the best value tourist site in Beijing. First of all, it's free. Second, it takes all of 20 minutes to line up and troop through the tomb. No mind numbing, back punishing 3.5 hour march from one identical room to another, thank you Forbidden City. Third, the ritual associated with the tomb is fascinating. Everyone lines up, as instructed, sans cameras or bags. The crowd is made up of young and old folks, presumably from throughout China, as well as a few Western tourists sprinkled in for good measure. A young army officer barks orders at us, and we arrange ourselves dutifully. The line shuffles forward, stopping at a stall where we're given the opportunity to buy flowers for the Chairman. About 10% of people opt to do so, arranging them at the entrance to the tomb. We then march up the stairs into an enormous bank-like building, at the center of which lies Mao, in all his sawdust-filled, pale yellow glory. (I have to assume it's Mao because a wax dummy would look more human.) The crowd adopts a reverent hush, some gawking openly, many bowing their heads in respect. Two officers in crisp uniforms stand at attention, looking out of the corners of their eyes for any counter-revolutionary disturbances. We only have a moment in front of the Great Helmsman before we emerge, blinking, into a hall full of gaudy Mao-morabilia for sale. A few folks stop to peruse the goods.

This whole bizarre affair speaks volumes about the respect Mao still commands and the Communist Party's ongoing powerful presence. (The official line is that Mao was 70% right, 30% wrong, a reasonable batting average I guess.) The juxtaposition of souvenir hawkers next to the father of Chinese communism makes it that much more interesting. While Mao may still be the Man to some, he's also become a pop-culture icon (I think Andy Warhol started this trend). You can get t-shirts, campy Mao watches, lighters that play The East is Red, Little Red Books, etc. I think it's mostly Westerners who buy this stuff though.

New Beijing

In addition to the standard tourist sites, I also spent a couple of days cycling around Beiing on a clunky one-speed. Biking is a great way to see the city, which is pancake flat and incredibly pedestrian-unfriendly, with one megablock after another and six to eight lane roads everywhere. It was fun riding in what is essentially a daily Critical Mass.

As you all know, the city is changing rapidly. Luxury condos are springing up all over, slowly replacing the old alleyways and hutongs (dense maze-like neighborhoods). New Beijing has a substantial ex-pat population, and a slew of expensive eateries, clubs, and bars catering to their tastes, as well as to new money locals. You can get virtually any kind of cuisine in Beijing. One afternoon, I had great gelato at a cafe on a street where westerners outnumbered Chinese.

In fact, bases on That's Beijing, the glossy ex-pat listings magazine, I got the impression that one could live a parallel English-speaking life in Beijing, away from the down and dirty hutongs. I guess it's the same in most major American cities, where poverty can be kept at a safe distance. For example, we played pick-up on the Beijing International School campus, about 45 minutes from the city center. The campus is surrounded by Yosemite Villas, an American suburban style development that could be in Ohio. The "gourmet" store next door sells Fruit Loops and other comforts of home. I don't mean to sound critical (though the export of American-style suburban development is really unfortunate). Honestly, I found ex-pat life fascinating because it's what my lifestyle would be like if I lived in China. It's something I can relate to and imagine.

New Shanghai

If the growing gap between rich and poor and China's westernization are apparent in Beijing, they're doubly so in Shanghai. Shanghai, as the country's financial center, has even more ex-pats and a larger middle- and upper-class Chinese population. Old brick neighborhoods are quickly being knocked down in favor of malls and luxury housing. (See photo of old and new Shanghai bldgs) One gorgeous new shopping and residential complex, the Xintandi lifestyle center was done up to look like traditional Shanghai housing.* Ironic considering 2,000 families in traditional housing were displaced during construction.

While in the US, assembling this much land would break the most battle worn developer's back, in China, the process is somewhat easier, as all land is owned by the government and ground-leased to users. Getting the deal done is really a question of connections, influence, and money. Displaced families must be given enough money to house themselves elsewhere, acording to my friend Brian, who works in Shanghai. As a result, he says in the future, Shanghai's center will be English-speaking, the next ring will be Mandarin-speaking, and the outer ring will house all the remaining Shanghainese speakers.

Apparently, however, the displacement/development process is not as easy as it used to be. Some residents in the old neighborhoods have recently put up resistance, with one infamous incident resulting in a suicide. Brian reports the government now moves with a little more restraint.

I can't lie; I like nice new shopping areas and hip bar districts. But I also like the old school neighborhoods. They're what make the city distinct.

In any case, New China's urban contradictions are sharp and worth noting, if anything because events here are a quicktime movie of what's happened in many western cities.

Shanghai Planning

One interesting touristy thing we did in Shanghai - Hank, Jen, and I went to the Urban Planning Musuem, which has exhibits on the city's past and future. As a planner, I was amazed to see a dull document like a city general plan turned into a 3-D interactive musuem with high tech exhibits, games, and an incredible scale model of the city. Shanghai city planners certainly know all the right words when it comes to a modern metropolis - green energy and industry, high tech clusters, economic development through tourism, creek restoration. It's all there (with the noteable exception of equity as a planning concept). It remains to be seen, however, if they can turn all the talk into reality.

To Shanghai's credit, it's amazing to see how they've successfully transformed Pudong, an area across the river from central Shanghai, from agricultural land into a regional technology and finance center over the last 15 years. It has all the great things industry likes to see: good schools, retail and entertainment options (including many western-oriented outlets), access to the airport, more affordable housing than central Shanghai. Unfortunately, it's laid out like suburban America. While a lot of the housing is denser, clustered in mid and high rises, transit is poor and walking isn't a valid option. The commercial buildings are surrounded by parking lots. This is ridiculous, considering relatively few people have private cars.

Shanghai Tournament Write-Up (Feel Free to Skip, Full of Ultimate Jargon)

I played with the international pick-up squad (i.e., mix and match players from all over). Louie stuck with Junk, the HK Team (a great name, by the way). I was originally supposed to go with them, but with 14 guys, I figured I'd get more PT with the pick-up team. Also, our buddy Hank from home was out for the tourney, and it's fun playing with him. Here's the photo of our team, along with a few women who picked up with us along the way.

We started off terribly, getting spanked 13-2 by Manila (called PULA, another great team name which means "red" in Tagalog - one of the flag's colors - and is an acronym for Philippine Ultimate Association). Our team didn't know each other's names, could not put together any kind of flow, and the Manila team was ridiculously athletic. Training in 90 degree heat and 100% humidity makes you tough, apparently. Despite the sound beating, I'm proud to point out that PULA is the only Asian ultimate team dominated by locals.

Shanghai's B-Team then beat us 13-3, a pathetic shellacking by a mediocre squad.

During our bye we nominated Hank as our captain and ran an endzone drill. These minor steps, combined with a little bit of gelling as a team, got us a 9-6 loss to Beijing. At that point, we considered 9-6 a respectable game. Actually, before the game, Hank had a Nostradamus moment, saying, "I would kill for a 9-6 loss." I think we made them nervous, at least.

Finally, we had a staggering come from behind victory against HK, scoring 4 in a row to take it 9-8. HK just got sloppy and eager to put it away, hucking one disc away after another. Their team vibe wasn't there after some unsatisfying losses earlier in the day. Meanwhile, we really came together, and everyone stepped it up, particularly one college kid from U Conn who started playing out of his mind.

The important thing about this win was that it let us sleep in and skip pre-quarters on Sunday. We then got killed by Singapore. We played pickup afterwards, the other teams beginning to fall apart and go home.

Hermine's team, Shanghai, beat Singapore soundly to win the tourney.

At the end, I got satisfaction from having broken our 8 seed, the lowest among all experienced teams. (There were five other teams in a separate bracket, but these were made up of really inexperienced players.) It was also cool to see everyone gel. It takes a while for this to happen, but you can actually feel it over the course of the day.

After our games ended, we stuck around to drink the free Bacardi Coolers and watch semis and finals. I was impressed with these high level games. Much more intense than I imagined Asian ultimate would be, by which I mean there's a lot of yapping, a fair amount of fouls, and even some disc spiking. No cheers, though, honestly, I'm thankful for this - nothing more painful than having to compose a cheer in the heat with total strangers after a 15-2 loss. And while the quality doesn't rival the best Bay Area ultimate, it's definitely beyond me. If I trained etc., I could play on a team like Beijing, but on a deep team like Shanghai, I would be a dedicated bench player *at best*, happy for any PT at all.

The Best Food in China

We've been eating well since arriving in Beijing, thanks to our ex-pat hookups. Chris, a high school buddy, recommended Li Jia Cai, an Imperial Cuisine place where we splurged on a great meal. (The Economist claims it's one of Beijing's top 10 restaurants, and Clinton's eaten there, for what it's worth.) The restaurant is tiny, intimate, run by the Li family, and located in a courtyard home deep within a hutong. The local atmosphere added to the meal's mystique.

Imperial cuisine, found only in Beijing, includes dishes served to the imperial family, who were apparently pretty picky about the quality of ingredients. The set meal started with a series of cold dishes, each unique and "delicate," to use one of Louie's favorite food terms. Thin slivers of smoked pork, cabbage with horseradish sauce, and eggplant puree were some of the highlights. Warm entrees followed - a sweet and sour fish, melt in your mouth chicken sauteed with crisp greens, tender Beijing duck, among others. All around a great meal.

Clarence's cousin, Candice, took us to a more modest but also delicious place near her office. The food was fresh, tasty, not greasy at all, great stuff. Thanks for the introduction, CTing.

In Shanghai, we ate at Din Tai Fun, which serves some of the best Shanghainese food in the world (if you believe the NY Times). We'd been looking forward to Shanghainese soup dumplings for months. Soup dumplings are little steamed (sometimes fried) pillows, delicately folded and full of pork, shrimp, or veggies. The special surprise come in a delicious broth which bursts forth from the dumplings as you pop them in your mouth. Dipped in vinegar and chili sauce...mmmmmm.

Our love for them started in SoCal, where we drove for an hour to eat at the LA Din Tai Fun (it's a Taiwanese chain), upon Sari's recommendation. This is a woman who keeps a card file of every restaurant of interest in the LA region, complete with MapQuest driving directions, so it had to be good. Anyway, Brian brought us to the Shanghai branch and it was excellent.

Hermine, our gracious friend from the Bay Area, also took us to an awesome neighborhood joint serving Dongbei cuisine from northeast China. Double fried pork, tender inside, sweet and crunchy outside, steamed dumplings with corn, veggie salad, pan fried dumplings with greens and egg, all washed down with cold beer. One of the best meals we've had in China, in an anonymous hole in the wall near her apartment.

We also revisited Uighur cuisine at another restaurant with Hermine, and it was just as good as we remembered. I wish you could get that stuff in SF. I would also love a Dongbei place.

Now in Yangshuo

After a great week in Shanghai, with all the comforts of Hermine's home and someone to order food for us, we relucantly headed south to Yangshuo last Thursday. This is the place with the bizarre limestone pillars and hills you see on traditional Chinese paintings. More on Yangshuo later.

* "Lifestyle center" is a somewhat stupid real estate development term that describes places like Santana Row in San Jose, The Grove in LA, or Bay Street in Emeryville. Usually, it's just a shopping center disguised as an old fashioned town square. The idea is to create an environment where people like to linger, thereby spending more money.

Various Odes

Hey kids, this is an old post that I've been meaning to post since Beijing. Lots has happened and we're now in Yangshou, but I'm gonna slap this up to keep the blog semi-current while we try to catch up.

Ode to Frisbee

These last six months have been one of the longest, possibly the longest, time I've gone without playing frisbee since I first started playing I've forgotten the effect that frisbee has on me. During this hat tournament, I was so focused on ultimate I had completely forgotten where I was and all the little concerns we had about travelling (buying bus tickets, making plans, etc). It wasn't until our lunch break when we got lunch brought in and the fare included, dim sum and egg rolls that I remembered, "Oh yeah, I'm in Hong Kong." Anyways, it was really nice to have a break from the little administrative issues of traveling (not that I'm complaining), but that focus on present moment when I play frisbee is something that I realize is really special and one of the many reasons I love the game.

Of course, I'm equally amazed at how out of shape I am. I'm totally sore and can barely walk. The Shanghai Tourney will be bit of agony, but fun all the same.

Ode to HK

I've been to Hong Kong once before and I remember totally loving it. And the second we stepped out of the train station, all the love came rushing back. There is a vibe about that city that I love so much. It's a giant chinese New York at half price. Granted it's exponentially more expensive than any other place we've been to in China ($2.50 for wonton soup? You've got to be shitting me!), it's still really nice. I love the international feel to it, with it's cosmopolitian flair and big city efficiency. I'm sure Simon will talk about the Octopus cards. I swear we took the train just so he could use it. And of course the food is delicious. For some reason or another, we never got around to having dim sum and believe me, I'm coming back with a vengence. I could do without the tropical heat though.

While we were there, we went to see a documentary and talk about community theater at the Fringe Club. This great little art space reminded me of Intersection for the Arts in San Francisco. It was one of the few things performed in English which is nice and it was really nice to see something geared more towards locals than tourists. We're definitely gonna try to check out more arts when we get back.

Ode to Pokey

So I got this great walking stick on the Annapurna Trail in Nepal - really light and strong. It got me through the trail and I loved it so much, I named it Pokey and decided I would bring it back home with me. So I've been toting it around with us the last two months (which definitely hasn't make us look like desireable hotel guests). And sadly, when arrived in Beijing, we hopped on the bus that we believed lead to our hostel, but the surly conductor told us that we were on the wrong bus and shooed us off really quickly. And in my haste to get off the bus, I left Pokey on the Eastbound 823. I realized as the bus was a good 100 meters away. Ugh, I feel terrible about this, I mean really terrible. Like a sinking feeling in my stomach when I think about it. I know this stick cost me less than 10 cents, but still. I had been through so much with him. This may take some time to get over. Oh Pokey, please forgive me.

Ultimate Update

We just finished the Shanghai tourney. Having seen (and been beaten by) the teams there, I need to reasses our deity status in the local ultimate scene. In HK, sure, we're pretty good. Unfortunately, I've come to realize that while there are good players in HK, HK is a second tier team in Asia. Manila (!), Beijing, Singapore, and Shanghai are the ultimate hotspots. All made semis. The Bay Area scene is definitely more competitive; Hank thinks these guys would be second tier teams back home. Sadly, Jen and I would not make a second tier Bay Area team.

More on Beijing and Shanghai (the cities, not the teams) later...

M(a)cAu

I was feeling a bit tired in the last few weeks. I either caught a cold in Tiger Leaping Gorge or got hit with some bad allergies, but my head was stuffed and a bit foggy for a few days. And after that, I got a bit tired of travelling, but my spirits have turned during our journey to Macau. The weather definitely became tropical and it feels like a whole other country again, especially here in Macau with it's Portugeuse flair. I must say I underestimated Macau. I thought for sure that it would be some nasty version of Vegas (which I already find fairly nasty). But the gambling aspect is limited to a small section of town and there is a definite European quaintness to the region.

McTaro

So my next trip to McDonald's might not be just to determine the price of a Big Mac. I must admit I'm really intrigued by some new products that McDonald's has rolled out here in China. The first is their traditional deep fried pie, which comes in apple, pineapple and taro!!! Taro, people! The second is they've got this new burger and from what I can make out, instead of a regular bun you can get two deep fried rice patties instead. I kid you not. I am really quite curious about the taro pie that I'm almost willing to try it. Ugh! Torn between my curiousity and my staunch believe in not supporting something as evil as McDonalds. The moral dilemmas of a Californian. In their defense, they've got some of the cleanest bathrooms in all of China (which has clearly sucked me into some tempting waters). I haven't fallen yet, but I will let you know if I do.

Roger That!

So over the last few days I've found that I can understand people more and more and in Macau, it's definitely quite heavenly. I still don't quite trust my language skills entirely and I've definitely made a few mistakes here and there, but for what it's worth, most people understand me when I talk. The trouble is when they respond in a way I'm not expecting and yammer away in Cantonese and then all is lost. But it's nice to be able to ask basic questions and not feel like you've just got to suck it up. I can semi order, but I realize my vocabulary is lacking in the oddest places. For instance, Simon wanted a curry beef sandwich for lunch. I can say curry beef, but have no idea what's the word for sandwich in Chinese. We've always just said sandwich in my house.

Whitening Solutions

So we spent two days at Silver Beach in Behai. (FYI it's a decent beach with some pretty warm waters. It's not the nicest beach by any stretch, but if you're hankering for a bit of ocean and a stretch of sand while you're in China it will defintely do). And when we got there, there was no one lying on the sand, in fact people were only sitting in chairs at tables with umbrellas. My first reaction was that there might be something wrong with the sand or water(some locals did say, yes, it should be okay to swim there this time of year...). But after a few hours of being there, Simon realized it was because people didn't want to get tan.

So there is an appalling market being generated here in China for skin whitening products a la Michael Jackson. There are advertisements all over television for them and special displays in the supermarkets and stores. Drives me bananas. Especially when I just want some kind of plain lotion and half of the lotions have some kind of whitening brew mixed in.

Engaging Englishmen

So we just learned that an English couple, Curtis and Louise, that we did most of the Annapurna trek with in Nepal, got engaged at the Taj Mahal a few weeks ago. Curtis is now the second Englishman we know to have people the question at one of the seven wonders of the world. (Alan proposed to Janine at Macchu Pichu). What is it that inspires the English at the UNESCO sites? Well, I guess it doesn't matter if it works. Cheers!

Southern China, Macau, then HK

Kunming

We spent three nights in Kunming, our last stop in Yunnan Province, and found it an altogether pleasant city. Nothing striking about it, just nice. Refreshing spring weather, hip university district, nice parks, clean and modern streets, people strolling along all through the evenings. Even the train station was amazingly orderly, a sharp contrast to the other stations we'd seen, which have been seething masses of humanity. If anything, maybe the city was TOO orderly and sterile - not so engaging. I did like the hipsters around the university campus, with their black clothes and pierced lips. The first edgy youths we'd encountered.

Nanning and the Beach

Nanning, further south in Guanxi Province, was decidedly more tropical. We stepped off the train into a steam bath. Very sweaty, reminded me of Manila.

On Saturday, our one day there, we had brunch at an "English corner," hoping to meet some locals. Most big cities in China have informal spots - English corners - where locals meet up to practice their English skills. In Nanning, an entrepreneurial restaurant owner has built his business around it: http://tinyurl.com/gtsol

Westerners get a discount, encouraging them to come by, sort of like Ladies' Night. Unfortunately, Nanning's English Corner is dominated by slightly skeezy older white men, some of whom seem just a little too fond of hanging out with perky Chinese girls. See here: http://tinyurl.com/rnrw9

Here's Kiki, one of the more friendly locals: http://tinyurl.com/lc498 She changed her English name from "ChiChi" when someone told her that breasts are sometimes called "chichis." You can't make this stuff up.

Spurning our free coupon for Sunday night's English Corner, we abandoned Nanning for Silver Beach in Behai, a small town of 550,000 people on the Gulf of Tonkin. (In China, 550,000 residents makes for a small town.)

The beach, while not spectacular, was a great break from the usual routine. We splurged on a $18/night beachside hotel room and spent most of the day playing cards under an umbrella. I also managed to pull my groin just tossing a frisbee with Jen, further evidence that I am offically old.

Culture $hock

We left Behai on a nine hour bus ride to Guangzhou, but only spent one night there before hopping another bus for Macau. While the China guidebook includes sections on Macau and HK, it's clear upon entry that these places are economically, socially, culturally, and politically a different animal from the mainland.

Both Macau and HK have a truly international feel that the mainland lacks. For example, all the signs in Macau are in Portugese and Chinese, and occasionally in English as well. I had been functionally illiterate for two months in China, and the Portugese - depressingly alien to me in Brazil - now seemed like an old friend. I marvelled at the ability to look at a store sign and recognize that the business sold auto parts.

As further evidence of their special status, counter-revolutionary propaganda runs rampant in Macau and HK. They both exist outside the Great Firewall, and for the first time in two months we could actually read our own blog and your comments. I was also surprised to hear a TV news piece about how HK reporters have difficulty working on mainland stories without freedom of the press in China.

Speaking of different economies, we suffered serious sticker shock upon arrival. Although the pataca and HK$ are roughly equivalent in value to the RMB, it's best, and probably more fair, to compare prices here to Western countries, rather than the mainland.

For example, we played at an ultimate tournament yesterday (more on that later), and the pre-tourney party had a HK$200 entrance fee. Sure it's an open bar and buffet, but for the equivalent in RMB, I could afford a day's worth of food and lodging. On the other hand, $25 is not too outrageous at home (Though I suspect many ultimate players would balk even at this price - ultimate players are cheap bastards after all). We also struggled to find food for less than HK$35-40 an entree. This amount of money would easily buy us three dishes and rice on the mainland. Anyway, we decided to stop bitching about prices and just enjoy ourselves for the few days we were in town.

In this spirit, in Macau, we splurged on a Portugese meal of lamb stew, salad, and bacalau casserole (cod fish). This in a tiny restaurant transplanted from Lisbon, with FC Benfica scarves adorning the wall and the salty owner hunched over a plate of stew, glass of red wine, and hunk of bread. The only clues to the restaurant's actual location were Chow Yun Fat's photo in the window, the old Portugese-speaking Chinese customer, and the all-Filipina wait staff.

As another attempt to blow (or, more optimistically, earn) cash, we walked into The Sands looking for a Hold 'Em game. We were simultaneously disappointed and relieved to only find Carribbean Stud.

Incidentally, although a huge portion of Macau and Hong Kong's service sector is imported from the Philippines, in the Sands Casino, not a pinoy in sight. Surprising, considering how many Filipino dealers work in Vegas. Sadly, I suspect blackjack dealer is too desirable a job for the Filipino immigrants to score. They're all domestics, security guards, laborers, and waitstaff.

Chunking Mansions

My Favorite Accommodation in China Thus Far Award goes to Chungking Mansions, Hong Kong. The scene is straight out of Blade Runner. This enormous building, with 15 floors and hundreds of tiny rooms, is carved up into dozens of guesthouses serving thousands of Western backpackers, African businessmen, South Asian immigrants, and Chinese families. It's the most diverse place I've ever seen. (The owner of the Internet cafe we frequented was a Filipina married to a punk Aussie.) More than just a backpacker stopover, it serves as long-term way station for immigrants. People live there for months in rooms the size of a modest American bathroom. I would not want to get caught in a Chungking Mansions fire. It's a disaster waiting to happen, really.

The first three floors are packed with laundromats, clothing shops, phone card salesmen, convenience stores, money exchangers, Western Union, and fast food stalls serving greasy international cuisine. (HK residents know Chungking Mansions as the dodgy place to get cheap Indian food.)

I particularly liked waiting in line for the incredibly slow elevator. You'd see Nigerians speaking Cantonese, Chinese moms scolding their children, and Pakistanis wheeling in a cart full of toilets. While you wait, you can observe the close circuit monitors above the elevators showing all the action within. This is presumably to keep people from being jacked.

Talk about density. Check out the view from our window. Despite these tight quarters, I got the feeling that people behaved themselves. Like they all agreed, "We're in this together and it doesn't do anyone any good to get into a drunken brawl in the stairwell." While waiting for the elevator, I watched a tense moment between a Pakistani and a Ghanian (with a Chinese security guard trying to mediate) end with a manly hug.

Red Wins!

In addition to getting our Chinese visas renewed, we stopped in HK to play at an ultimate frisbee hat tournament.* It's called a "hat tournament" because everyone's names are essentially pulled out of a hat to form various teams. So everybody plays with new people.

I won't mince words. In HK, Jen and I are Ultimate Gods. In my first three points in our first game, I scored three times. Jen is apparently one of the few women in HK with a consistent forehand and backhand. We wowed them. I know now why Eric Leven loves playing in New Zealand.

It's important to understand that back home, in the Bay Area, we are at best mediocre players that might get on a third tier co-ed team. Furthermore, we had come off 6 months of travelling with zero high-intensity exercise. Except for a couple of good ex-pats, there just aren't enough experienced players in the HK ultimate scene to make it very competitive. There are a few naturals (like the guy on my team who started playing ultimate with his church group), but they just haven't been playing long enough yet.

To illustrate, I had been playing for twice as long as all the women on my team combined (Jen was on another team). Admittedly, this may be more a function of my age. I think the oldest woman was 25.

Another example: On the entry form, where you rank yourself from 1-4 on various skills, #1 in the Disc Skills Category was "Never Played Before", #2 was "I Can Throw a Backhand, Sort Of", #3 was "I Can Throw a Backhand and Forehand Consistently", #4 was "I am an Ultimate God, and Can Throw Both Backhand and Forehand and All Kinds of Crazy Throws Like Hammers." The average crummy pick-up ultimate player in the Bay Area would rank a 3.5 on this scale.

Anyway, we managed to sandbag our personal rankings enough to stack our teams. Mine, the Red Team, won the tourney, my second tournament win ever. We now have great t-shirts that say Hong Kong Ultimate Players Assoclation (sic).

So the HK players want us to play with them in the Shanghai tourney on June 10-11. Honestly, though, they really just want Jen. Although I'm right up there skill-wise on their team, they already have 13 or 14 guys going. My addition would just make playing time more scarce for the real HK players.

Our Mental Health

I can't lie, we were down for a while, especially Jen. After a couple of months in China, all the big cities were beginning to look the same. The food ceased to be exciting. Traveling was routine, not engaging or even challenging anymore. We weren't homesick, really. Just burnt out of the same old same old. This sounds ridiculous, but there it is. We began to cook up schemes like "Stay in HK for a Month to Brush Up on My Cantonese" or "Teach English in Yangshuo." Anything to get out of the rut.

Fortunately, Macau and HK did a lot to change our outlook. Instantly, the international energy, entertainment options, the ability to speak the language (Jen's Toisanese, similar to Cantonese, finally became useful), the new food, the exercise and new friends at the tourney - all this revived us.

And now, with just over a month left, we have a lot to look forward to. Beijing (we arrived yesterday) has tons to do, as does Shanghai. We're psyched for more ultimate, hanging with friends in Shanghai, and seeing Yangshuo in Guanxi province, which is supposed to be gorgeous. There's also last minute shopping in HK. Gucci handbag, anyone?

* I just have to make a side comment that ultimate is amazing. We look up a tourney online, go to a strange city, and within 24 hours we're having drinks with a dozen new friends. It's incredible. Forget this Spirit of the Game crap. The drawing card should be "Ultimate: The World's Greatest Social Crutch."

Yunnan. No, YOU Nan!!

Loving Lijiang

Like I said, old town Lijiang was one of the most, if not THE most gorgeous cities we'd seen thus far. Sure, it's incredibly touristy. Enormous Chinese tour groups devotedly follow their flag bearer through the streets, and Westerners of all ages wander throughout town. The shops sell t-shirts, dubious antiques, and tacky art, and the restaurants, many of which offer Western food, charge notably higher prices. Naxi (a local Chinese minority group) culture has been commodified in a Disney-ish way, with young women in traditional costume luring passers-by into the bars. They also enthusiastically lead tourists in Naxi dances in the main square. Only the old women shuffling through the streets wear their Naxi clothes like they mean it, the shoulders of their sky blue tunics worn by years of rubbing basket straps.

None of this, however, distracts from old Lijiang's undeniable beauty. As we walked into town last Saturday night, I was overwhelmed by the polished cobblestone streets, maze of alleys, and goldfish swimming lazily in the canals throughout town. I loved the wooden houses with graceful sweeping eaves, the glowing red lanterns that are lit every evening, and the leafy trees hanging over stone bridges. A little over-restored, maybe, but still...

And it is possible to escape to the *old* old town. Away from the tourist center, the alleys grow quiet, women wash clothes in green pools, and the houses look more lived in, rough around the edges. The old town market clearly serves locals, selling fruits, vegetables, flashlights, rubber slippers, birds in cages, etc.

Crouching Tiger Hidden Leaping Gorge

We took three days to do a mini-trek in Tiger Leaping Gorge, just a couple of hours from Lijiang. One of the world’s deepest gorges, it towers 3900 meters from river to snow capped summit. Despite the gorge’s emerging popularity as a Chinese and Western tourist destination, the government plans to dam it and flood out thousands of people over upcoming years, a la Three Gorges. It’s insane, but speaks to the Chinese government’s continuing love affair with mega industrial projects.

On the hike, we lucked out with cool weather and great guest houses, including one run by the nicest Naxi family. We also had lunch at the guesthouse where Michael Palin (K-K-K-K-Ken from A Fish Called Wanda) stopped for a night and signed the guestbook. The guy has been haunting us since Nepal; just recently, he crossed Yunnan, Bhutan, Tibet, and Nepal filming his Himalaya travel show.

The views were pretty good, though I’ve become spoiled by the Himalayas and the Andes. It was still really nice to get active again. I suspect I’ve lost weight only because my already pathetic muscles have atrophied to nothing. We plan on playing in a Shanghai ultimate tourney in June. In our current state that promises to be an embarrassing experience. I’ll be the skinny guy retching on the sidelines.

Now in Dali

Dali, just four hours south of Lijiang, is something of a Yunnan Province Kho San Road. Amazingly, dope is widely available (a smiling middle-aged lady in traditional clothes just walked into the café and asked me if I wanted “smoke ganja”), and you can watch English movies while sipping a cappuccino on “Foreigner Street.” Competition among hotels is fierce, and we’ve been enjoying a huge suite (bedroom and living room – no bath) for $4/night. While we haven’t been particularly homesick, it’s nice to have some creature comforts, particularly since it’s been raining for 24 hours. We had just enough time yesterday morning to bike through the nearby towns and rice fields before the skies opened.

Yunnan Food

Hasn't been particularly notable, though we can get fresh veggies everywhere, a nice change from Xinjiang and Tibet. The appearance of Western food also lets us have yogurt, muesli, or oatmeal for breakfast, a healthy change from steamed pork buns, though twice as expensive. It’s about $1 for a bowl of oatmeal or $0.50 for eight buns.

In Lijiang, we ate in what the Lonely Planet calls one of the 10 Best Restaurants in China (admittedly a preposterous list). The Monkey Bar is this Taiwanese guy’s house, and every night he allows travelers to join his family for dinner. “You eat what we eat,” the little hand scrawled note in the window says. He used to do it for free, but started charging because he was getting mobs of up to 40 people.

For $1.50, you get up to six dishes of fresh home cooked food, and the blessed relief of not having to look at a menu when you sit down. He’s not in it to get rich, clearly. At that price and considering the breathless Lonely Planet write up, I don’t understand why there still aren’t dozens of guests every night. We had dinner there three times, and saw only one other couple. Sadly, only the man of the house speaks any English, and I think he’s grown a little tired of chatting with tourists over the years. His little girls have become similarly jaded, and manage to be both aloof and cute at the same time, turning their backs and frowning in the most surly yet adorable manner whenever someone wants to take a picture of them. By the third night, we’d become regulars of sorts, and they deigned to play with us. It’s a little funny having dinner with the family because they act like normal folks, not making any effort to pander to the guests. They don't really talk much amongst themselves, and unceremoniously get up from the table when done eating.

Kunming Tomorrow

We hop a hard sleeper south to Kunming tomorrow, headed towards Macau to get a new Chinese visa…

Now in Regular China

Golden Week in Xi'an

Home of the Terracotta Warrior Army, Xi'an is one of China's top five tourist destinations. We arrived, unfortunately, at the start of the May holiday, when one billion Chinese takes a simultaneous week long vacation. This meant hordes of tourists, skyrocketing hotel rates, and scarce train berths.

Coming from the northwest, where tourists - Chinese or western - are relatively few and far between, we were overwhelmed by the packed streets, aggressive souvenir salesmen (see photo - this guy was about to bust a gut trying to sell me a crummy warrior replica, which probably wouldn't survive the bus ride back to town), and massive tour groups at all the tourist sites.

Xi'an's sheer urbanity also surprised us, country bumpkins that we are. At over 6 million people, Xi'an is three times the size of Urumqi, the largest city we'd seen in China. You can almost hear the money being printed, with high end shopping in downtown (Prada, Gucci, etc), luxury condos going up willy nilly, and massive new shopping malls under construction. We also saw our first McDonald's, one of several in town. Not a single storefront remains empty. Our first day in town, we just wandered around soaking in all the shiny retail and eateries. I can't help but think that this level of economic activity is unsustainable, and someone is headed towards a real estate precipice.


Part of the Masses

In the blazing heat, ee joined the Long March to all the standard tourist destinations. I won't bore you with the details, except to say that the Warriors are definitely worthwhile, but the other standard attractions can be misssed. (Riding around the city walls was actually fun, though uncomfortable on a tandem bike built for midgets.) We're getting particularly burnt out on temples, which Jen talks about.

I've realized that I have a limited attention span for museums and preserved old buildings. While I can appreciate historic architecture, I ultimately prefer places that remain in use, and offer a sense of how people live today. So for me, a park on Sunday afternoon can be more interesting than a 1000-year old temple. Revolution Park in Xi'an, for example, had a great pedal-powered roller coaster, tons of families and kids having picnics, and outdoor karaoke.


Gambling in Chengdu

We spent two nights in Chengdu, staying for the first time in a backpacker hostel. (Thus far, in China, we'd stayed in regular hotels.) Backpacker hostels are international oases of sorts, desgined to make western travelers feel at home. We walked into the lobby to the sounds of Brazilian music, and saw people in the common room watching King Kong on DVD. It could have been Cuzco, Peru.

While we decided to cram into a sweaty dorm room to save cash, we did enjoy hanging with other travelers for a change. We wiled away one evening learning to play mah jongg in a nearby teahouse with an automatic mah jongg table (teahouses and mah jongg are big in Chengdu). This amazing machine shuffles and stacks the tiles for you, which rise like ICBM missles from a hidden panel in the table.

We also rounded up a Korean, American, and Singaporean from New Zealand to play a couple of Texas Hold 'Em games, proof that it's become an international phenomenon. When I asked the Korean where he learned to play, he responded "World Poker Tour on TV." Of course. For the record, Jen and I each came in second in three tournaments, but generally didn't fare too well. Better than mah jongg, however, where the Singaporean guy took us to school. Sad considering our respective heritages, really. Mah jongg was my grandmother's life!

Sichuan Eats

Sichuan cooking is reknowned for its spice. Sure enough, our first night in town, Jen and I had two dishes - chicken fried with peanuts and tofu in chili sauce - which just about killed us. I was sweating profusely, tongue numb, and begging the surly waitress for more rice. Mmmmmm....numb tongue.


Panda Prostitution

Besides automatic mah jongg tables, Chengdu's other claim to fame is the Giant Panda Research Center. Here you can witness the Cutest Animal in the World (no, really, it's the cutest) chomping on bamboo and vigorously scratching its butt. These two activities, in addition to sleeping, make up most of the giant panda's day. I could have sat and watched these guys forever, they're just that charming. Everything they do is just full of cuteness. Look, there's one running! That one is climbing a tree! They think they're people!

The Research Center pimps out the animals for $400 yuan ($50), lining up tourists to take photos next to the pandas. To set up the shoot, the handlers entice a couple of pandas onto wooden couches, then continually shove bamboo into the pandas' paws to keep them sedentary. While the pandas kick it, Jabba the Hutt-style, the tourists come up behind them for the photo. You can even touch the pandas while posing. To their credit, the researchers give you plastic gloves to prevent STDs.

As in the human sex trade, baby pandas cost more. For a whopping 1200 yuan ($150) you can have a photo taken with a juvenile panda, which is pretty much the most adorable thing you have ever seen. Amazing, considering when they first pop out of the womb, they look like slimy blind hairless salamanders. Photos with red pandas -raccoon-like beasties, a respectable 7 on the cuteness scale (see photo) - cost a mere $6.* One wonders if they feel slighted by their discount status.

Following the tour, we sat in a comfy air-conditioned toom to watch a short documentary on the panda's breeding habits. Set to the music of Enya, the film featured black and white footage of giant pandas mating in dung-strewn jail cells. It looked like a porno shot with a convenience store security camera. Male and female wrestled awkwardly, bleating like sheep. Has anyone considered that the pandas would have more successful reproductive habits if the researchers offered them a nice hotel room or cozy bamboo grove? These iron bars would arouse only the most hardened criminals of the American penal system.

The film also showed drugged out pandas sprawled on metal operating tables as scientists probed at their nether regions. Again, the haunting chants of Enya did little to enhance the poor animal's dignity.

Now in Lijiang

We traveled non-stop via bus and train for 20 hours to get to Lijiang in Yunaan province last night. This is, without a doubt, the most gorgeous city we have seen on this trip. Salvador, Brazil and Luang Prabang, Laos can't compare to Lijiang's old town. More on this later.

* At the bottom of the cuteness scale, leeches, sea cucumbers, and maggots rank a 1. The average adult cow would come in at 5. The Giant Panda is a 10. The same animal can have different rankings at different points in its life. Hence, baby ducks come in at 7, but drops to 4 at adulthood.

Spoke Too Soon

As soon as I posted my most recent blog (Spring has Sprung), everything changed...

1 Day Spring
The temperature was temperate for about a day in Xi'an and then it blasted its way up past 80 degrees with a lot of humidity for the rest of the time. I definitely felt myself slogging in the heat and we found ourselves cutting through department stores to get a little bit of air conditioning. It was a bit cooler in Chengdu, but still not a lot of relief. But now that we're back near the Tibetan Plateau in Lijiang, Yunaan, it's a lovely spring again.

Hostel City
So now that we're in more popular tourist and backpacker areas, hostels have sprung up like May flowers. As dorm beds in hostels are about $2 a night per person, it's hard to justify getting a single room in a hotel any more. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. It was fun to be in a hostel again with other travellers. And there are tons of Chinese students at these hostels, many of whom speak English. These guys are always amused to learn that I am an ABC (American Born Chinese).

20 hour bus/train rides
So yeah, we just had another 18 hour train ride. After actually looking at the train and bus routes and our deadline of making it to Hong Kong or Macau (autonomous regions of China where we can renew our visas) it looks like we may very well have to have a few more of those. Anyhoo...

Diminishing Marginal Pagoda Returns
Okay, after being in China and Tibet for over a month, I must say we're really pagoda and templed out. We were outside in the beatiful grounds of the Big Goose Pagoda in Xi'an and Simon and I were wavering about whether or not we should go in. I finally decided to go in since we were right there, while Simon watched the hordes of tourists outside. It was a lovely pagoda, but we've seen so many that they're starting to all blend together. (It's kind of like looking at churches in Europe). And I know this sounds terrible, but I think I would have rather spent the $3 entry fee on some pastries and some real drip coffee instead. From now on, I think we're gonna be a bit choosier about which temples we tour. But I'm still psyched for tombs, caves, forbidden palaces, etc. But I think I need to know there is something distintive about a temple before plunking down a few dollars to see it.

Dollars and Yuan
Okay, it may sound really stingy to not want to spend $3 to see some ancient pagoda, but it's a ton of money here in China. $3 is a big chinese lunch for two, a dorm bed for a night or 20 city bus rides for us. It goes a long way, so if you think about what we could be using it for, it's not insignificant.

Pandas! Pandas! Pandas!
So as you may have guessed, it was really refreshing to go to the Chengdu Panda Research Center and to see lots of pandas instead of going sighseeing at temples. I would certainly recommend the trip. It was super cool and also super odd (which is starting to be a theme here in China). Seeing the pandas was pretty awesome and they seemed pretty happy chowing down on bamboo about 2 meters away from us. However, this place is also a huge tourist destination, and tons of families come and in some ways it felt more like a zoo than a research institute. Tons of tourists taking flash photography and a few obnoxious hecklers trying to get their attention. To boot, you can pay about $50 to stand next to a seated panda and get your photo taken or $150 will let you hold a baby panda in your arms. I felt it was a bit inappropriate. We all know how sensitive pandas are, so why should they be subject to this? (I know, you don't have to tell me, because you've got people paying for it and running the center isn't cheap.) But I felt that some of the human harrassment could have been curtailed.

Another odd thing was the educational movie that they showed about the life span and mating process of pandas. Overall, it was pretty well done, and there was some amazing footage of a panda giving birth. However, some parts were a little disturbing. Like the mating scene, for instance. Obviously these large bears are in heat and getting fairly aggressive pushing, pawing and wresting with each another. I know they're animals and this perfectly normal behavior, etc. But the mating took place in these cages that really look like prison cells and all the footage was shot using some cheap handy cam with some really grainy footage and the date and time ticking off at the lower right hand corner. Honestly, it was bit disturbing. It felt more like a scene from Abu Garhib than anything scientific. Seeing footage of the pandas knocked out while they were artifically inseminated or having semen drawn was also a little bit disconcerting. But at the very end there was a lovely panda montage shown with the soothing sounds of Enya.

Sit Down DDR
Okay, this is random, but I find it so fascinating I have to report it. So the internet cafes here in China are huge. I mean they look more like college computer labs than cafes. In fact, some of these cafes are larger than any single computer lab we had at Smith while I was there. And there is a lot of DVD watching, game playing, web camming, texting and smoking going on. I can't help but notice the person next to me is playing a sit down version of DDR (Dance Dance Revolution) on her computer. Basically she needs to make characters on the screen move by pressing on the arrow keys while she smokes, instead of stepping on some kind of floor board. I remember explaining to a friend the concept of stand up DDR where kids at least get some kind of exercise while working on eye hand coordination. However, this sit-down version defeats the purpose entirely. Honestly, I think some game where I was blasting aliens or blowing up mummies would be much more interesting. But to each their own.

We're on a fast hookup, so some recent photos

Monks debating in Lhasa



It Burns! Dunhuang sand dunes


Sunset on Old Town Kashgar


Mother Camel looks on anxiously at Karkul Lake



Kids from the yurt we stayed at in Karkul Lake



Urumqi Night Market


Self portait on Kashgar ferris wheel

Spring Has Sprung

After what seems like months of chasing summer around the world, I think we've finally caught up to spring here in Xi'an. We've sent back a box of some winter gear back home and our packs are a bit lighter, and another reason to feel more spritely. In the last few weeks, we've covered a huge portion of the Northwest and so I don't think we've got many more back to back marthon bus rides to look forward to (See Simon's post about traveling on buses and trains). And to boot, my spirits have definitely perked up at the realization that for the roughly the same price as hostel beds in South America, we can actually get private hotel rooms with its own bathroom, TV (though we don't understand any of it except for the NBA games that are broadcasted here. My poor Yao Ming!) and western (ie, non squat toilet). It speaks loads to our outlook on China, where we thought we would have to rough it the same or as more as we have before. Prices maybe going up in May, a big tourist season, as well as when we hit the big cities and some seedier rooms. But for now I must say we've been living really cush except for those crazy 20+ hour buses we've been taking.

Biscuit Roulette

I must say that in the land of some darn delicious high carb food, this country produces the ASSIEST biscuits I've ever tasted. There were times when we've opened up a package of crackers, taken one bite and went out to find a beggar on the street. I don't know if we're doing them any favors. But you honestly have no idea what you're gonna get, even if there is a description in English. For instance, on one package it was advertised as wheat bran biscuit with strawberry filling boasting real fruit. So judging from that information and the picture on package I'm thinking it's like of like a flattened whole wheat strawberry newton right? Clearly I've been living in California too long. It was some kind of deep fried saltine sandwich with a kreme filling like in an oreo, but with a fragrant artifical strawberry twist. But true to their word, there was a tiny silver dried strawberry on top. Yuck.

I guess we should learn how to read chinese so we will not choose the chemical flavored biscuit and know the difference between the differences in the label color. From my research (ie trial and a whole lot of error), in general blue seems the most benign, (the most you can ask for in a cracker here). Red is some flavor to the extreme and green is a wild card, it could be tame it could be horrific. What's even more appalling is that this crap is often individually wrapped, placed in a plastic tray and then sealed in a plastic bag. Why go through all that trouble to protect inedible food? It's beyond me. Simon has prohibited me from purchasing anything other than these chinese knock off of British disgestive biscuits we've found tolerable.

Me Talk Pretty Take Two

So as I tried to use French to get by in Spanish speaking countries, I've been trying to use my crappy Toisanese (a dialect of Cantonese) and crappier Cantonese to try to get by and it's a lot less successful than french and spanish (I'd say one of ten words are the same). I'm better off using English. Simon is really into pantomiming everything, partly b/c the locals get such a kick out of it. Women just burst into a fit of giggles. I myself cling to the lonely planet phrase section at the back of our guide. What was interesting was that I understood people in Xinjiang province, a province that is in the remote northwest of the province, (as far away as possible from the southwestern cantonese speaking provinces), than I understand people in provinces in the middle of the country. We did come across one cantonese speaker in the Holy Temple in Lhasa. But sadly my vocabulary doesn't extend to buddist concepts. In terms of reading, I guess I can read thousands of characaters, since I figured out how to read numbers, but other than numbers, I can recognize the character for noodles. The most important character to know if you ask me.

But speaking of language, it really cuts both ways. Some of the English "translations" (and that's a pretty strong word for what it is) is impressive here. On one menu, no joke, was "Chicken and Blue and Green Bamboo Explosion." I suppose it could be some kind of sophisticated name for a dish, like Chili's "Awesome Blossom."

Simon the Brazillian Nepali Uigher

You know that Michael Jackson video Black and White where people are morphing into different ethinicities. That's pretty much Simon traveling around the world. It's amazing is how Simon can pass as so many different ethinicities. A few people in South America thought he was Brazillian, a few Nepali guides on our trek thought he was Nepali, and Uighers thought he might have been kin. (Simon doing his best Muslim Uigher impression at the right). This is all until he opens he mouth and they realize he can't speak any portuguese, nepali or uigher. And so when they think he's Asian, they insist he's Korean.

But what's nice is that Simon and I defintely don't attract as much attention as tourists than we have anywhere else, for obvious reasons. In general, most people take one look at us and start talking in Chinese. And when Simon motions that he doesn't understand, they turn to me and repeat it again in Mandarin, cause clearly I'm not Korean.

American Trash Dreaming

Simon and I definitely feel more at home than we have in any other country we've been to, despite the significant language barriers here. We're in more familar territory than the extremely western tourist oriented Thamel District in Kathmandu, where pizza and burritos are on the menu of every restaurant. When we walk into a grocery store, we always end up saying "Oh I remember these..." And obviously most of the food is stuff we've seen at one point or another, but perhaps in an even more delicious incarnation than we've had in the states.

At the same time, as much as I hate to admit it, we're definitely hankering for a little bit of home. At one point, I was reading a book where they main characters were eating some nachos at a Hard Rock Cafe. I turned to Simon and said, "You know, before this trip, I would have never deigned to eat nachos at a Hard Rock. But if we came across a Hard Rock now..." And Simon nodded guiltly in agreement. I'm also slowly reading the Christmas issue of the New Yorker and it's got a lot of Christmas ads in there and it makes me really nostagic as well. Is it me, or did Banana Repubilc have a particularily compelling ad campaign this year?

Our Planned Route

We've also come up with a basic route for China. We'll spend the next month in central, southern and southwestern China, making it to Hong Kong before 5/24 when our visa's expire. Renew our visa there and then head up towards Bejing and Shanghai for the remainder of our time. We're thinking about trying to play in this ultimate frisbee tournament http://www.shanghai-ultimate.com/tourney/ in Shanghai. (Team Rice Bowl get your cleats ready!). But at the same time, the regmine of pork dumplings, ramen and overnight bus rides hasn't put me in the best shape and we might be better off missing the event (and eating some shanghainese soup dumplings instead). Clearly that's probably a better idea.

Mutton, Sandstorms, and the Silk Road

On the Move

We've been on the road a lot since Lhasa, rarely spending more than one night in the same place.

The list goes: Golmud, Dunhuang, Urumqi, Hotan (for four hours - we had to book it to Kashgar when the Hotan officials refused to renew our visas), Kashgar, Karkul, Kashgar, Urumqi, Xi'an (our current location).

Along the way, we suffered several long nights on sleeper buses. While not THAT bad, I'll pay extra for the train any day. On the bus, you get a bunk that lets a 5'11" person stretch out about three quarters of the way, knees slightly bent. At first, this seems reasonably comfortable, having spent 24 hours on a bus in Brazil without reclining seats. After a few hours, though, your body starts to complain about being squeezed into this little pod. You can't get up until the bus driver decides to stop for a bathroom break. The smoking doesn't help, either. On the bus from Urumqi to Hotan someone's kid soiled the sheets, sparking a frantic opening of windows and bringing down the bus driver's wrath on the poor parents. I've started carrying Tiger Balm on the bus to dab under my nose.

Xinjiang in My Nutshell

Northwestern China, like Tibet, feels like another country plopped inside China, which it kind of is, I guess. The Uighur, an Islamic Central Asian people, have called this region home for centuries, and their influence extends from the Islamic architectural touches to the local cuisine.

The late 1990s saw some separatist mutterings, but the gov't silenced those right quick, and followed up post-9/11 with another round of crackdowns. The Uighur independence movement doesn't rival Tibet's, and certainly lacks Tibet's international support. The Beastie Boys aren't putting on any Free Xinjiang concerts anytime soon. Xinjiang has been part of the Middle Kingdom for longer than Tibet, and appears well entrenched. The HUGE Mao statue in the middle of Kashgar puts a nice exclamation point on this (see photo, right before sand storm hits).

It's a fascinating place. We climbed giant sand dunes, ridden camels, traveled the Silk Road, spent the night with a Kyrgsh family in their yurt, and gawked at piles of bloody sheep heads at the livestock market. In Kashgar, sandstorms blow through the middle of the city (I have a photo with the flash reflecting of the billions of particles - like gritty snowflakes) and the medieval Uighur old town, with crumbling brick structures and alley mazes, is held siege on four sides by modern Chinese mid-rises. Donkey carts remain common transportation in the small towns, while Urumqi, Xinjiang's capital, boasts towering skyscrapers, freeways, an ESPRIT store, and a KFC with spotless bathrooms.

It's a region with two times (Beijing Time, used for all government functions and Xinjiang Time - two hours back - used for real life) and two languages (Uighur and Mandarin).

It also has two classes - Han Chinese occupy the sweet jobs and generally appear more affluent. We saw this dynamic played out on long-distance transit - sleeper train passengers were mainly Han Chinese, while Uighurs cram onto the more affordable sleeper bus. In fact, we've seen little Han and Uighur intermingling. The respective neighborhoods remain clearly defined in the big cities (little towns are mostly Uighur). A Romeo+Juliet tragedy needs to be made here.

Uighur Eats

Mutton pies, mutton noodles, mutton soup, mutton rice pilaf, mutton kebabs. Mutton, mutton, mutton. Mutton. I have eaten more sheep in the last couple of weeks than I will eat for rest of my life. Strangely, Jen and I began to crave standard Chinese food and steamed white rice, something I never thought I'd say in China.

But to be fair, we've enjoyed eating in Muslimland a lot. The mutton on noodles with peppers, tomato, and onions in a spicy red sauce - pretty damn good. Mutton kebabs on flatbread with a beer - what's not to like? Fresh sesame seed bagels, hot from the oven - deliciously crusty outside, soft inside. Rice pilaf with dates, raisins, and, yes, mutton - yummy. Freshly squeezed pomegranate juice from a street vendor - full of anti-oxidants! Goat entrails and skulls in greasy broth...ahh, no.

Other treats include fresh watermelon on every corner, sticky rice with syrup, fried dough and hot sweetened milk, veggie wraps (one of the few sources of vegetables in my diet lately), and more yogurt than you can shake your straw at.

Urumqi also has the most amazing night market ever, with two long blocks of food vendors calling out to you, twinkle lights overhead, and hordes of couples, friends, and families strolling by.

In terms of more exotic fare, to celebrate my bday, we had a blow out lunch at Urumqi's sole Caribbean restaurant, run by a couple from Curacao, presumably the only black people in western China. I asked the owner how she ended up here, and she shrugged, "The Caribbean was too small." Yeah, right. So you move to the most landlocked city in the world? Why not? Three words: "On the run." I expect the Colombian druglords they doublecrossed to show up any day now.

Language Trouble

I thought Brazil was tough. China is ridiculous. Fortunately, the people who we really need to speak English - visa officials, hotel staff - usually know just enough to get their message across. Otherwise, we point at characters in the Lonely Planet, pantomime, or Jen says it in Toisan/Cantonese and hopes something sticks (about 10% of the time we get lucky this way). We now try to frequent restaurants with more people because the food might be better, but also because we can look at the other tables' dishes and point at what we want. In general, we try to avoid playing Russian Roulette with the menu.

Actually, we get by ok, though occasionally hit rough spots. We spent 20 minutes in the post office in Urumqi trying to mail our warm clothes back to the US. Buying train tickets has proved a real pain in the ass. The office in Dunhuang was closed for some reason and a crowd built up waiting for the ticket lady to appear. So when she did show up, a violent rugby scrum erupted. I managed to scrawl the necessary characters on my notepad and shove my way to the front, but when she said, "ma-yo" (i.e., no tickets) I had no hope of trying to figure out when tickets might be available.* Instantly, the people behind me sensed my weakness and started yelling out their requests. (As any of you who have traveled in China know, the concept of queueing up is totally foreign here, exercised only at ATM machines.) Later, we tried buying tickets through a travel agent with limited English skills and he ended up buying us the wrong ones.

The worst part, though, is our complete inability to chat with locals. I loved shooting the shit in Peru and Argentina about anything from sports to local politics. I talked to cabbies, park rangers, people in bars. Even in Nepal most people knew enough English to have a basic discussion ("Maoists very bad. King also bad. Now no tourists."). Here we got nothing. Long train rides would be a lot more fun if we could communicate with our bunkmates.

For the most part, though, people have been incredibly patient, friendly, and accommodating about our language difficulties. A big smile and idiotic pantomiming goes a long way. Last week I tried to ask for yogurt by making mooing noises then pretending to pull on udders. The waitress loved that. We got two glasses of milk, of course.

My parents and Brian Go (if you're reading this) will be happy to know that my four years of Chinese at Xavier School and intensive Chinese tutoring under Angel Huang (from kindergarten through 3rd grade) have finally paid off. I can still count in Mandarin (ironically, I had to teach this to Jen), and recognize the symbols for man and woman - helpful in public bathrooms.

I do have some burning questions that I'd clear up if I spoke Chinese:

1. In Kashgar, two pre-teen boys stood at attention on the sidewalk, shirts off, with Uighur writing on their torsos. A small crowd clustered around them, reading the message. I know they weren't begging, though the kids did look mildly embarassed. Bizarre hazing ritual? Punished by parents? Radical advertising strategy?

2. What's with all the men gathered around talking on every street corner? This seems to be a Uighur phenomenon; haven't seen Chinese men do it yet. Are they buying or selling stuff? Or just hanging out, like an outdoor knitting circle?

3. Why do all the Chinese pop stars, male and female, wear their hair like Rod Stewart?

4. What the hell is up with the spitting? I'd been expecting it, but for god's sake. Right now, the guy next to me at the internet cafe keeps hacking up loogies and spitting them on the floor. There is a small pool of spit under his chair. Keep in mind this is a classy high tech internet cafe, not the bus station. Actually, I can live with the spitting. It's the violent throat clearing that kills me. Beijing needs to implement a " No Spitting in 2008!!" campaign or tI expect a lot of upset Olympic tourists.

Creature Comforts

John and Eric, my two Chinese American buddies had warned me that China would be tough. "You'll lose weight." "The cheap hotels will have nasty bathrooms." "People are rude."

Surprisingly, our standard of living has been higher here than in any other country thus far. Granted, we're not staying in the cheapest places, but for $10 to $15/night we get a room with private bath, cable TV, clean sheets, air con, and hot water. (I expect costs will shoot up on the East coast, especially when tourist season picks up in June.) Even in western China, the small cities were clean and modern, certainly more than Kathmandu. Thus far, people have been really nice, and we can also fly below the radar a little here; we don't stick out as much as the other foreign devils. Plus, the food has been cheap (maybe $5-10/day each) and it looks familiar and tastes good. (We can't wait to get to HK and Shanghai for dim sum and soup dumplings.) If we could speak Mandarin, traveling here would be a breeze.

Basketball Non-Sequitor

Hoops is big in China. I've seen a couple of NBA playoff games, which are broadcast in the morning live.

Bizarrely, Damon Jones, a relatively obscure player for the Cleveland Cavaliers, is sponsored by Li Ning, a Chinese sneaker brand with a logo that looks suspisciously like a certain swoosh. His photo is prominently displayed in the Xi'an store. Is he even on the Cav's starting 5?

Farewell to Tibet - very delayed post

This post I originally wrote and thought I posted on 4/13/06. However, since blogger was all in Chinese and we can't actually access our blog site itself, it appears that I might not have ever posted this...oy. So it's completely out of context but since it's all ready written. It's funny, that the first thing I wrote is how chronologically off it is...


Okay we just got to Golmud in Gansu province, and we're spending the next several days traveling overland to Kashgar. This is slightly chronologically off post that I've been mulling over...

Milestones and the day-to-day

Before I checked my email the other day, I was going to write about how wierd it was to be so far away and to hear about huge milestones in the lives of friends and family. In the last month alone, I've received news that included three new babies and a wedding. It felt wierd that others were at an important juncture in their lives, while we were in a context that was so different. I wasn't sure how to quite celebrate these occasions and have punted it until my return.

But when I opened my email that morning, I learned of the deaths of my great aunt and of a former frisbee teammate of mine. My great aunt was 102, but sadly Ana did not live to be even a third of her age. And again, I found myself at somewhat of a loss as to how I should celebrate their lives here in in Asia. They have certainly been in our thoughts these last few days, and again there is a disconnect to where I am personally and physically. I do believe that one should not suffer to celebrate the life of another and that we should go on living life to our fullest as they would have done themselves. So I'll go on...

Leaving Tibet

I am really sad to have left Tibet. Tibet was high on my list of places to visit, and 12 days just wasn't enough. You really do get a sense of how Buddism and faith are intertwined into the every day life of Tibetans and of the sacred in the every day. I still want to do the three day kora (pilgrammage) trek around Mt. Kailash ending up at Lake Mansogovar. Both the lake and mountain are considered holy. It seems like a wonderful way to incorporate the stunningly beautiful landscape with the culture of the everyday people. But unfortunately, we had to trade in our six month visas to China for a 21 day visa into Tibet and we would need to get out of Tibet to renew our visas. Tibet is definitely on the list of places I would like to come back to.

We spent five days in Lhasa, hanging out with these very funny and very tall Dutch guys from our tour. (One of them had the idea that we should have photoshopped the image of the Dalai Lama on to a naked body, and flash it everytime we were asked by the locals for pictures of the Lama). I think I needed that traveling time as I was definitely getting torn between excited and tired by the time we got there. We also sprung for a pretty nice hotel room ($12/night !) and it was nice to have central heat and a private bathroom with 24 hour running hot water. (I can't describe what luxuries they are). I do feel like the night at Base Camp took a lot out of me...

Everest Base Camp

After sitting in a car for three days plus an elevation of over 4900 m, I actually had a hard time walking the 8 km and the extra 300 m increase in altitude up to base camp. It's amazing how quickly my trekking phsyque left me. I felt I could have done it, but given that I was so far behind everyone else (again, I was definitely having breathing issues) and it was getting colder, we hired a donkey cart to take me the rest of the way up. It was actually pretty fun to take the cart, but there was definitely a part of me that was frustrated that I couldn't keep up with everyone else and it was a slightly bitter pill to swallow. But I think it was the right thing to do.

That night, I do remember thinking to myself "this is the worst night of my life." I was completely wide awake, my heart and head pounding and felt so quesy I couldn't lie down, even after two doses of advil and a litre of water. You know there is something terribly wrong with me, if a bowl of homemade noodles seems terribly unappetizing to me, which were offered for both dinner and breakfast (and to this day, I find myself hesitating a little before eating noodle soup. Hopefully this will go away.)

Thankfully I wasn't experiencing serious symptoms of AMS, but I kept looking at my watch counting down the minutes until the sun rose and we could go down. But even then, I don't recall regretting spending the night up there. (I knew if I hadn't gone I would have regretted it.) And of course the next day, we had to drive over two passes, each over 5000 m again and our headaches returned with each ascent. Ow.

The Camping Americans

What's neat about traveling is how you end up meeting up with people again. While we where in Tingri, Tibet, we ran into the Camping Americans again. It turned out one of them suffered so much from AMS, that they had to turn around before making it over Thorongla Pass. But now they were heading over to Everest, armed with Diamox (altitidue sickness pills) and hoped to do the trek. And while I admire them for what they were doing, I was glad I wasn't doing that trek because it was really cold. (See Simon's last post for a description of the conditions).

A Note on Food

For all of you who said I would lose weight in Nepal since all there is Dal Bhaat (lentils and rice), you were totally wrong. I love Dal Bhaat and while eating it twice a day was a bit much, we enjoyed it and definitely find myself still craving it. In fact, while we were in Lhasa, I made us go to Nepali run restaurants to get my fill. Of course, it was three times more expensive in Tibet. But some of the places were decent. Another reason to be sad to be leaving Tibet since there won't be any more Dal Bhaat.

But we've discovered the joys of hot pot and muslim cooking as we enter into mainland China. Simon is in meat-on-a-stick heaven and I am in dumpling/wonton heaven. But the food will change more, as we head north into Xinjiang province to Kashgar, which is heavily influenced by Muslim and East European culture. Hopefully we'll post some pictures and food porn soon. Stay tuned...

Kathmandu to Lhasa Via Everest Base Camp

Last Days in Kathmandu

With some downtime in Kathmandu as our Tibet visas were processed, we went rafting and checked out Bakhtapur, an old town outside the city. We also managed to avoid buying last minute souvenirs, which we'd have to drag across China. It was tough, with everything so cheap.

I did stock up on books, though, at Kathmandu's great used book shops. Theyre way better than the ones at home, which is saying something considering Berkeley is a university town with many learn-ed residents. Here, travelers sell books for peanuts instead of hording them on their bookshelves. So you can find great new stuff like Jhumpa Lahiri, classics like Eliot (who Jen can't get enough of for some reason), and the standard Brown/Grisham/Crichton paperbacks at good prices.

The fear of having nothing to read gnaws at me constantly, so I bought a reassuringly large stack before taking off, figuring English books would be hard to find in China. Every time I meet an English-speaking tourist, I ask if they have anything that they've already read and beg them to trade used books with me.*

We got out of Kathmandu just in time. Nepal is a mess nowadays. Basically, all the political parties have made an agreement to work towards a multiparty democracy with the Maoist insurgents. They planned a series of strikes and demonstrations in early April. The King sees the agreement as a threat to his power. So he issues a curfew and threatens to clamp down on all political demonstrations. Already, the royal army has been arresting suspected dissidents for some time, doing god knows what with them. The Maoists contribute to the mess by continuing to blow up things. At the end of the day, it's regular people like shopowners, travel agents, restaurant workers - people that depend on tourists - that suffer. Nobody likes the King or the Maoists.

The Border

On April Fool's Day, Jen and I boarded a minibus for the border, then switched to a 4wd Land Cruiser in Tibet. The border crossing (our first via land) went smoothly, thanks to the Nepali and Tibetan guides handling all the paperwork (and the Chinese LOVE their paperwork). Just before entering Tibet, a guy ordered us to take off our backpacks and line them up against a wall. He then sprayed the packs with a chemical to kill every possible organism that could be trying to sneak across the border without proper papers. The poor Nepalis and Tibetans walking across just covered their mouths as the guy sprayed down the loads on their backs.

The fact that we'd entered China immediately became clear as the crummy old Nepali brick buildings were immediately replaced by crummy new Chinese concrete buildings.

Seven Days in Tibet

We spent seven days, six nights in a Land Cruiser with two Tibetans (a guide and a driver), two Dutch guys over 6'5", and four big packs. Kind of crowded, so we took turns sitting on the spare tire in the trunk. I'd say 85% of the ride was on dirt roads, 10% on paved roads, and 5% on some kind of cross-country trail that you couldn't really call a "road." We saw incredibly bleak and gorgeous deserts, drove over several 5000+ meter passes with webs of prayer flags fluttering in the wind, stopped at isolated Tibetan villages populated by semi-nomadic yak herders, and got out of the truck to urinate in some truly spectacular, desolate spots.

But honestly, the drive satisfied any urge I had to go trekking in this region. It was windy, cold, dry, and while incredibly beautiful, the landscape was best appreciated from inside a warm SUV. We met a guy who was biking a similar route and the whole time I kept thinking how rough it would be to slog though the wind, sand, altitude, and below freezing temps everyday. I also saw another bike tourist going from Lhasa to Kathmandu who looked like a Mad Max extra - big aviator goggles, sand in all his stuff, totally sun and wind burned.

Although the route sees its fair share of travelers moving between Lhasa and Kathmandu, it didn't feel touristy at all. For the most part, local people seemed to maintain their cultural identity and few go out of their way to serve tourists and earn their dollars. Folks still typically dress in traditional clothing, and not just so they can charge you to take their photo.

The sheer toughness of rural Tibetans, living in ridiculously harsh conditions, is amazing. We'd see guys herding their yaks in below freezing temps, dust and sand blowing everywhere, their faces like leather, hair long and wild. Eastern Tibetans, in particular, are pretty big, rough and ready. They wear red cords braided into their hair, leather boots, and big sheepskin vests. You wouldn’t want to get into a bar fight with one of these guys (or the women, either, for that matter). At the same time, all the Tibetans we've met have been friendly, warm, easy going, and quick to laugh.

Food and Lodging

With the exception of Everest base camp, we stayed in guest houses of varying quality, depending on the size of the town. Lodging ranged from a concrete room with old mattresses and a single light bulb to a room with cable, carpeting, and a big thermos of hot water for tea.

No matter the quality of the hotel, however, the food was mediocre at best. Mostly greasy noodles and other fried stuff. Nothing inspiring. Even the traditional Tibetan momos (like pot stickers), which we really liked in Nepal, were rubbery and often lukewarm. Bad enough to make me miss Nepali cuisine. In fact, when we got to Shigatse, the second biggest town in Tibet, we went straight to the Nepali restaurant and had some dal baht. OK, so it's one of the most isolated, unarable regions in the world - I can see why the food ain't all gourmet and shit.

Actually, we were excited to try yak butter tea, a Tibetan staple, simply because we’d heard stories about how disgusting it was. (Lonely Planet claims it tastes like someone washed their socks in it.) The Snow Leopard and Seven Years in Tibet also heavily featured the drink. It's basically a smoothie made of black tea, yak butter, hot water, and salt - how bad could it be? Hey, I love smoothies! So on our first night on the road, we walked into a dive where the customers were warming themselves over bare electric coils. We ordered a big thermos for the four of us (me, Jen, the two Dutch dudes). So...it’s not THAT bad. I mean it's really rich and, um, salty, and, ok, not so good. Also, I now associate it with the nausea and headache of altitude sickness.

Base Camp

On the way to Lhasa, we spent a night at Everest Base Camp, and enjoyed spectacular views of the mountain. With the clear blue sky and thin air, it looked like you could reach the peak in a solid day's climb, as opposed to the actual multi-week ordeal. We have great pictures.

Base camp, a 2-hour hike up from the Land Cruisers, is a tent city set up by entrepreneurs to serve tourists, expedition members, sherpas, and porters. Each canvas shelter (looks like Frisbee Central at an ultimate tournament) is like a mini-guesthouse. They'd give you a hard bed, all the blankets you wanted, a choice between fried rice, noodle soup, and omelettes, and all the free tea you could drink (which fortunately included jasmine as well as yak butter tea). You could also get cans of Budweiser and Pabst Blue Ribbon, the Official American beers of Tibet. The lady of the house even tucked us in.

The downside of spending the night at 5000+ meters was that we all suffered from altitude sickness. I felt nauseous and had a headache in the morning. (Also, I'd gotten up to take a leak in the freezing cold three times because of all the tea I'd drunk.) Jen had "the worst night of her life." One of the Dutch guys threw up and couldn't walk straight. He had to get a pony ride back to the Land Cruisers. There's no avoiding it - we just gained too much altitude too quickly coming from Kathmandu.

I think the smoky, sickly sweet smell of burning yak dung, which they use here instead of firewood, also made us all a little ill. I will forever associate this smell with Tibet, though I can't imagine where else I'm going to run into it.

Sanitary conditions at base camp were a disaster. Because the tower of feces had extended a couple of inches past the hole, people make do, literally, wherever. At least the cold keeps away the flies and dulls the smell.

China and Tibet, Best Buddies

On the plus side, the insane days of the Cultural Revolution are over. No longer are Red Guards knocking off monasteries, temples, and people across the region. Tibetan Buddhism is tolerated, at best, and Tibetan culture is allowed to exist in a non-threatening forms like cultural shows and pilgrimages.

On the negative side, Tibet essentially remains a police state. Photos of the Dalai Lama are prohibited, dissidence is not tolerated, and you certainly aren't going to find any copies of Seven Years in Tibet floating around. Try Googling www.freetibet.org while in China. The link appears on the search list, but you can't connect. This screened version of web searches reflects the deal Google recently struck with the Chinese government.

Furthermore, instead of brute force, the Chinese gov't has adopted a more subtle and arguably effective approach by slowly smothering Tibetan life with cultural domination. Thanks to a concerted effort by the government to get Han Chinese to move here, Lhasa, once the center of Tibetan culture, has become a typical Chinese city with some Tibetan bits. Various economic and employment incentives for mainlanders to move to Lhasa threaten to make Tibetans a minority in their own capital. In 2007, a new rail line will open up Lhasa to the rest of China even more, further eroding Tibetan life. The Dalai Lhama, currently in exile in India, has intimated that he may be the last in the line because he will not locate a replacement reincarnated form in occupied Tibet.

That being said, the remaining Tibetan elements of Lhasa are impressive. The Potala, the Dalai Lama's historic winter residence and probably the world's most imposing building, is worth a visit. The steady stream of rural pilgrims throughout town, wandering around , spinning hand-held prayer wheels, is fascinating. And again, despite a fair number of tourists here, it doesn't feel the least bit touristy. Only a handful of restaurants serve Western food, there are no t-shirt shops or even money exchangers, and few people speak English. Mainland Chinese tourists, however, are well taken care of, with numerous hotels and eateries catering to their needs.

How Are We Doing?

In general, pretty good. I recently had a minor bout of the runs, Jen had a small head cold, but otherwise we've stayed pretty healthy.

More of an issue than our physical health, however, has been our mental health. When we first got to Nepal we found ourselves at a low. We’d been away for 4 months, and the constant traveling had worn us down, something I never thought would happen. Kathmandu's sheer foreignness also proved exhausting to us in this low-energy state. We missed stupid things like cereal in the morning, comfy bathrooms, movies. We missed our friends.

On a day to day basis, we'd both go back and forth on our travel plans, alternately thinking “Screw it, let's just go home in mid-May like we planned” versus “This is the trip of a lifetime. Let's do it right and take our time.” Things like the quality of breakfast on a particular day or how friendly the bus driver was would change my mind. An hour or two of hanging out with a fun English-speaking tourist would strengthen my resolve. I liked to think that I was tough enough to keep traveling, but felt embarrassingly attracted to the comforts of home.

We delayed the decision until we'd finished our 3-week trek, figuring we'd be in a more positive state of mind after some walking in the mountains. That turned out to be a good thing. We had a great time on the trek, met lots of nice people, and then spent a few days just relaxing in Pokhara, a quiet town near Annapurna with comforts like fresh brewed coffee, cable TV, and oatmeal. After some minor hemming and hawing, we figured 6 more weeks was the way to go. That would allow a comfy pace through Tibet and China, but would avoid burnout, getting caught in the thick of monsoon season, and the evaporation of all our cash. So that's it, we're back at the end of June.

I realize how incredibly indulgent it is to stress about how much longer we're going to extend our vacation. This is not lost on me, trust me. Everyday, I’m thankful for this trip. But at the same time, I’m excited to see my friends, share pictures, and reminisce about how great the trip was.

It's weird to look forward to the reminiscing, but that can be best part. While traveling, you're regularly challenged and often uncomfortable. For every high, you hit multiple lows. It's not all mountain passes and delicious street food on sticks. Mostly, it's sitting on cramped buses, getting ripped off, washing filthy socks in the sink, and killing time in airports. But afterwards, all you remember are the good bits, and even the bad parts seem exciting and exotic.

Where to Next?

We're headed up to northwest China - Muslim, Silk Road territory. This area sees very few tourists, Chinese or otherwise. Travel infrastructure is bad, and with neither of us speaking Mandarin, getting around will be a little daunting. I'm going to take Jen Kahn's advice and draw up little flashcards with pictures of buses, beds, etc. I'm also getting into pantomiming everything. Though today I could not explain alcohol based hand cleanser (aka Purel) to the ladies at the supermarket. They offered me hand lotion, clothes detergent, and handi-wipes, but no Purel. It may not exist here.

* In case you're interested, I got:

The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Salman Rushdie - I read him for the first time on the Annapurna Circuit and liked him a lot. A little like a foreign film that you might not always enjoy as you're watching it, but then you think, "Hey, that was pretty good" afterwards. More importantly, the book is huge and dense so it'll last a long time.

Seven Years in Tibet, Heinrich Harrer - Just finished this. No one will ever accuse him of being a great writer, and he could very well be a Nazi, but it was good to read this right before hitting Lhasa. Shows life here before the Chinese invasion, I mean "liberation."

Red China Blues, Jan Wong - Reading it now. Memoir of a Chinese Canadian college student who comes to Beijing as a hard core Maoist at the tale end of the Cultural Revolution. She then proceeds to have her idealism busted by the reality of life under Mr. and Mrs. Mao and the Gang of Four. Good history lesson. Really disturbing account of the Tianamen Square Massacre when she returns as a foreign correspondent.

Waiting, Ha Jin - I figured I had to read something that wasn't bashing China. Some kind of comedy novel set in modern China?

Glue, Irvine Welsh - He wrote Trainspotting, which was supposed to be great. But this book is longer and therefore better. The dialogue is all in Cockney English (phonetically spelled out) so we'll see.

Some trashy paperback I managed to wheedle out of a Dutch guy. One of the reviews says it "would make the perfect Tom Cruise movie." Um, is that a good thing or a bad thing?