The Weather

On our first day out and about without Jon in Beijing, it was supposed to rain. It wasn't hot, but it was overcast, humid and by no means cool.

Carissa (loosening the shoe laces on her hiking boots): "My feet are hot. And this is supposed to be the coldest day."

Elijah: "What part of 'hot as balls' didn't you understand?"

Indeed.

The weather was a bit all over the place when we were there. It's was generally warm, but it's definitely cool at night. Except in Jon's apartment, which seems to have an entirely separate weather pattern that consists solely of being ridiculously hot and stuffy. Open the windows, you say? Then the particulate streams in and covers every surface including our throats and lungs. I'll settle for the put-put of air conditioning that is available, thank you very much.

As mentioned, the pollution in Beijing is other-worldly. It varies greatly, but on a bad day you can't see across the street clearly. When we were there, it mostly wasn't too terribly bad, and it eased up after the first couple days. But, Elijah was noticing minor breathing problems that he remembered from when he was a kid living in the polluted Central Valley (California). He didn't realize until he moved to the coast that his never-ending sighs were an environmental factor. 

View from Jon's apartment: Pollution on a good day. On a bad day, you can't see past those buildings on the right. On a really bad day, you probably can't even see those buildings.

If there weren't so much pollution, Beijing is a relatively "normal" city weather-wise: hot in the Summer (painfully so, in fact), and cold in the winter. Jon says that the government doesn't allow the heat to be turned on until a certain day -- yes, the government is in charge of when people can start using their heaters, like how our government is in charge of when national parks open for a season -- and that last year a bunch of people died due to an unexpectedly early cold front. Yeah, wow.

We chose to come in May because Spring is the most (historically) pleasant time weather-wise in Beijing. The winter cold has worn off, but the brain-melting heat of the summer hasn't yet set in. I wouldn't really call the weather we experienced pleasant (mostly becasue of the pollution, but also because it was sorta hot and humid, and also sorta because I'm a big baby), but it certainly wasn't terrible.

Until we got to Shanhai. At which time, conveniently, I had left my jacket and rain jacket in Beijing. Typically, Shanghai is hotter than Beijing. So I packed some shorts, a few shirts and moseyed over to the coast. The first day was beautiful. Sunny, not too polluted, warm: beautiful. Jon checked the forecast for the weekend as we enjoyed the pleasant dusk by the river. Rain. Both days. Note to self: it's more effective to check the weather before heading to a place rather than just once you're there. Grrr.

Fortunately, the rain wasn't too terribly bad. It rained all of Saturday day, but we borrowed an umbrella from our hotel and it fortunately wasn't cold or windy. It was overcast Sunday, but neither cold nor rainy. Plus, it gave us an excuse to sit in our uber-plush hotel room and watch Major League without feeling too terribly guilty.

China Pictures

As you may have realized, I'm back Stateside now. I got back yesterday morning (Monday 5/21/12) four hours before I left Beijing. Time travel is amazing!

And by amazing, I mean it consists of a 12 hour flight crammed next to two Chinese people. And somehow I forgot to check the vegetarian box when I booked my flight (or they messed it up?) and I had to eat a regular meal (gasp!) and just avoid the meaty items. Ugh. I then proceeded to stay awake for 33 hours straight in an attempt to kick some jetlag butt. Fun. Times.

Anyway, my point is, now that I'm in a country that allows photos (partially kidding), I've posted them to Picasa. Witty labels and all. They can be found here and include my 12 days in Beijing, Xi'an (where the terracotta warriors are), and Shanghai. Enjoy!

As I did not have a chance to blog quite as much as I would have liked while I was there, I have a few blog posts in store for the next couple weeks where I'll talk about Chinese people, terracotta warriors, and possibly things like airports, restaurants, vegetables, and how blonde people are regarded in China. All of which I have first hand experience with. Please do continue to tune in.

The Great Toboggan of China

The Great Wall of China was originally constructed in the 200s BC, though the wall we see today mostly consists of reconstructions that took place in the 1300-1600 AD timeframe during the Ming Dynasty.

Side note -- I love the word "dynasty". It sounds so rad. And majestic. And not oppressive at all. I digress.

It hadn't occurred to me before we went there that there are multiple entrances to view the wall. I thought there was one place where you go and that was it. Since the wall runs 5,500 miles through northwestern China, there are, obviously, many places where one can view/walk on the wall. We went to one about an hour and a half drive outside Beijing.

We rented a driver for the day for about $140. He picked the four of us up at 8.30am, drove us to the Wall, drove us to lunch at a nearby (awesome) restaurant, over to the Ming Tombs (blah), briefly to some path of statues, then returned us back to Jon's place at 5.30pm. A good day.

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Being that we got a relatively early start, the entrance at the Wall wasn't a complete madhouse yet when we arrived. Thank goodness. Our guide showed us to the ticket counter, told us what to do, and where to meet him after.

The wall is way up on the hill (mountain?), so you take a gondola for a few minutes to reach it. Riding a gondola in China had me a bit worried, but we made it. On the way up, Jon told me that you ride a toboggan to get down (he had been there once before). I laughed and said, "that would be awesome". He claimed he was serious. I insisted that he was pulling my leg. He insisted that he was not and proceeded to describe the toboggan in detail. Then he pointed out the metal half-pipe toboggan run from the gondola. I was a believer. And I couldn't wait.

Toboggan track among the trees as viewed from the gondola ride up to the Great Wall.

We got to the top of the wall and walked the wall until the maintained area ended, which was maybe a half mile or so. Note: the Great Wall is never flat. You're either walking up or down. Sometimes, it's so steep that I was on my hands and knees crawling up it (I'm afraid of heights). The tourist stretches of the wall are relatively well maintained and look pretty good. The unmaintained areas are overgrown with weeds and plants and have huge areas where the stones have fallen away (or been stolen/moved).

It's that steep. Yeah.

It was very beautiful, but also terrifying. I quickly realized two very important things:

1. They sell beer at the many little snack stands along the wall. How is this a good idea? Elijah partook, as expected.
2. There's no easy way to get down off the wall and no way for help to get up to you if you somehow manage to hurt yourself. Which would be extremely easy to do. Ex: falling off the side, tripping over the cobblestones, falling down an entire flight of stairs, falling off the single-story watchtowers, etc, etc. I thought about this extensively. We decided that if someone were to get hurt it would have to be Carissa since she's the only one the three of us could hope to carry all the way back down. Better option: everyone be freaking careful. And stop drinking beer.

Also, watch my video:

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After traversing the wall for a distance and coming back to the entrance, it was time to take the famed toboggan ride back down to the parking lot. The toboggan apparatus consisted of a black plastic disk that you sit on. It's roughly two feet wide and four feet long. It has no sides, front, or back. It's just a thing that sits under you and is mildly shaped to fit your bum and your feet. Your legs straddle a lever with which you control the speed of your car. The lever automatically springs to the braked position. You have to push it down to release the breaks to go faster. Then you just let go a bit to apply the brakes again. 

Jon advised us to proceed in order of who (we estimate) wants to go the fastest and to leave space between us when we leave so we don't get too close to each other on the run. Think of a water slide where you can control your speed. He said when he did this last time, he was stuck behind someone going really slowly and it was a bummer.

We proceeded: Jon, EJ, Me, Carissa. I caught up to EJ immediately. I then hung back to get some distance between us, and he decided to stop being a baby and speed up (kidding, EJ). Brakes be dammed; I pretty much held the lever all the way down for most of the ride. While there were no railings and we wore no safety gear, I didn't really feel like I could kill myself. Unless I didn't lean into the turns or was going so fast that I flew off the track completely, which I didn't feel was likely. I thought I was pretty good to go. So I let her rip and feared only the bugs flying into my gaping grin all the way down.

It was amazing. The run was very long with lots of turns. I was flying. I didn't die. The dudes who stand on the side to monitor people as they go down yelled at Jon to slow down. But he thought, "What can they do about it?" and proceeded to fly down the run at light speed. It was pretty much the best thing ever. Watch this guy's video of it to get an idea, but imagine going much faster.

At the bottom, Jon came flying into the end run followed closely by Elijah who was followed closely by me. We all dismounted, discussed said awesomeness, and looked back at the run for Carissa. We waited. And waited some more. And then we saw Ms. Clark ambling down the run at "a perfectly reasonable speed", followed by about a dozen perturbed patrons. I wanted to snap some pictures of the run at the base, but I figured we better mosey on lest we become the victims of some sort of riot, or at least angry glaring. 

Carissa was characteristically unapologetic. After all, she was keeping all those people safe. 

Toilets

I feel that, to some extent, one can judge a country based on their restrooms. China, you're not getting good marks from me.

It's prevalent in Southeast Asia, in my experience and verified by the internet, to have squat toilets as the standard waste receptacle found in public places. If you have never had the pleasure to see or use one of these toilets, thank your lucky stars.

I've done the squat in Thailand, in Japan (in public parks and places that weren't hotels and the like), and now China. It's a truly wonderful way to experience the richness of the Chinese culture. So much so, that I make a b-line for the handicap toilet wherever possible since the Chinese allow the convenience of a "Western" toilet only to those who are physically challenged, apparently.

Whatever, I'll take it. Let's discuss the makings of a good squat toilet restroom.

1. The entire restroom must smell like hell. Think of an outhouse at the County Fair at the end of a long, hot Saturday. The toilets flush, so I have no idea why this is the case. Alas, breathe through your mouth.

2. There is no toilet paper offered in any of the stalls. As in, there is no receptacle for toilet paper; it's not just that they're all out. Sometimes there's a central roll of toilet paper at the entrance near the hand driers that you need to make sure to consult before you make your way to the toilet. Otherwise, you better bring a little packet of tissues or learn to wiggle really well (ladies only, of course).

3. No hooks or ledges are provided in which to place any purses or belongings. Good luck.

4. There are no handles to hold onto as you make the attempt to straddle a porcelain hole in the ground with your pants simultaneously confining any movement of your lower legs while discreetly obstructing the view of whatever it is you're peeing on (listen for the tinkle; you don't want to hit your shoes). I'm not sure what kind of gymnastics habitually occur in these stalls as I watch people ages five to 95 walk in, but it must be magical.

5. Sink faucets are habitually intermittent and often out of order (with no signage to indicate this, of course), there is rarely hand soap available, and the hand driers are as powerful as a cat's yawn. Honestly, this isn't terribly different to that which can be found in American public bathrooms.

I will say the one upside is that the Chinese are good about public restroom availability. While they are not fun to use, they are everywhere. And I would rather pee in a hole in the ground in an enclosed room rather than in my pants on the street. So, there's that.

Also, I have only been forced to actually use a squat toilet one time on this trip (oddly, it was a (faux) gold-plated one in a night club -- go figure); otherwise I've always been able to either snag the handicap stall, wait for the hotel or Jon's house, or creep into a Starbucks/McDonald's. And don't even get me started on the logistics of trying to do a #2 on one of these things... some things are best left unknown.

But get this: Jon said that when he was traveling in Malaysia last year, they saw regular Western toilets with footprints on the seat. Like, people (and not just one person, it was, like, ingrained footprints) get up on the toilet seat so they can squat-pee into the toilet. While I cannot understand that, I can understand the need for familiarity. If squatting is comfortable to these people, more power to them. I am just fine with my good old American Standard, thank you very much.

Chinese (and other) Food

Yep, they have food here. Yeay!

So -- think San Francisco when you think Beijing food. Don't think Chinatown. It's not all crappy Chinese eateries and street food. It's a huge array of food types -- Japanese, Indian, Pizza, Italian -- and a vast range of prices and quality.

Being the "rich" white people that we are, we have definitely gone high class on this vacation and stuck with the fancy restaurants. Which are not reserved just for white people by any means -- they're totally full of Chinese people for the most part -- but they are pricey, fancy, and, yes, delicious.

Since I can't post pics yet (I'll have to do it from home, sorry), I will just do a brief run through of the highlights thus far.

-Thursday Dinner: Japanese. Good sushi, not cheap. Nice decor, large restaurant (think Elephant Bar sized). Very similar to an American restaurant in pretty much all respects. Except that the servers don't speak much English.

-Friday Dinner: Pizza. Jon said this place had amazing pizza. And I always love pizza, so we tried it. It was delicious. The pizzas are immense (maybe 30" diameter) and we got half cheese half veggie/white sauce. It was really good. Also: deep fried Oreos. Don't judge us.

-Saturday: Saturday was the first day we actually had Chinese food. We ate at a crappy little place in a strip mall for lunch and a big fancy place in the expensive shopping district for dinner. Both were amazing. Some dishes: Wood ear mushrooms -- fabulous; eggplant in a bread bowl with cheese -- can't go wrong; homemade sake that tasted nothing like normal sake (and hence was awesome); yak's milk yogurt with some sort of honey for dessert -- my surprise favorite.

-Sunday: We really outdid ourselves Sunday. It was Mother's Day. We wanted to eat at this hotel that overlooked the Olympic Park. Jon warned us that all hotels will be catering to Mother's Day for foreigners. We did not listen. We splurged for a $70 per person Mother's Day buffet. Highlights: sashimi bar, half-lobsters, beer bar, dumplings, cooked meat bar (you tell them what meat you want and what table to deliver it to), ice cream, and, ahem, a chocolate fountain.

Later that night we somehow managed to also fit in (as in, into our bodies, not time-wise) dumplings at a really good dumpling restaurant. Tofu skin salad as an appetizer was ridiculously good. Fab-u-lous.

-Monday: Lunch at a former school house made into a restaurant. Beautiful stone patio, umbrelled tables, beautiful day. "American" food. EJ and I had trout melts and fries, Carissa had mushroom soup and salad, Jon had a burger. Milkshakes and brownies for dessert. All very good.

Dinner Monday was the famed DaDong Duck restaurant, known for their roast duck. I didn't partake (except a small taste -- I thought it tasted like chicken), but the rest of the food (Chinese) was really good, including some incredible stir fried bamboo shoots. US$200 for the five of us. 

-Tuesday was Car and EJ's last day and we did a market tour and cooking class during the day and had dinner at a Russian nightclub in the evening. Cooking class was fun; we made a traditional stir fry dish of carrots, cucumbers, egg, wood ear mushrooms and lily flower. The Russian place was cheap and delicious: cabbage schnitzel was the highlight for me. 

-And tonight (Wednesday), Jon and I had dinner at a Mediterranean place in our hotel compound in Xi'an (where the terracotta warriors are -- we see them tomorrow). Not bad for Mediterranean, but not the best I've ever had.

In summary: delicious food, American prices, no food poisoning (so far). Also, Jon knows enough Chinese to get by at the places where they barely speak English, which is nearly everywhere. Pictures will come next week!

Beijing Sites

Friday we started off our trip on Friday by visiting Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City. These sites are both toward the center of Beijing (actually, the Forbidden City is the original center of the city, I believe) and take about 40 minutes via subway and walking to get there from Jon's place.

Neither were particularly exciting, to be honest. Tiananmen Square is literally just a huge (the biggest in the world, apparently) flat stone paved area with a couple unexciting monuments scattered around. There's nothing to do, you have to put your bags through a security screening upon arrival, and the place (like most places here) is crowded as crap. We tried to go see some site in the middle of the square (I think it was some tomb or something? We can't read any of the signs.) that everyone was flocking to line up for, but got booted from the line (via megaphone announcement about three feet from our heads) because you can't carry bags into that area. Yeah. Whatever.

Across the street from the Square is the Forbidden City. This is the old area of the city built for royal people back in the day. It's a relatively large area of very old buildings and plazas that was once only available to VIPs. Now it's just a huge sightseeing attraction that draws approximately a gazillion Chinese visitors. 

The facility itself is in disrepair. The cobble stone plazas are uneven and have many stones missing or broken. There are weeds growing out of the walls. The paint is peeling on the structures. The signage is minimal and the crowds are overwhelming. Which was unfortunate, certainly, and unexpected. I was thinking that they might not upkeep their landmarks as a rule and was a bit upset by this prospect.

Saturday, we visited the Summer Palace and found that this is not the case, thankfully. The Summer Palace is a huge park area with a variety of buildings, bridges, and pagodas situated around a large man-made lake. Some princess wanted this place built some hundreds of years ago and -- voila -- new lake and beautiful surrounds.

Which, of course, was only allowed to be enjoyed by royal people and the like for a number of years but is now open to the masses. And the masses do flock, holy crap. SO MANY PEOPLE. 

The day was beautiful (sunny, the "fog" had receded a good amount) and everything about the Summer Palace was serene and pretty. Unlike the Forbidden City, the Palace is very well kept and clean, and the arrangement of the foliage, buildings and water was picturesque. You can rent a paddle boat to paddle around the lake (we're lazy, didn't do this), or walk around the lake to the different structures and trails scattered around.

We stayed for a few hours just walking, taking a ferry across the lake, and enjoying the day. We were going to hit up the Olympic Park afterward, but instead we stayed too long, ate food nearby, and headed back to Jon's place to rest and then go to dinner. 

Up next... THE FOOD. (It's good, by the way.)

China Living

Jon's apartment overlooks the north-east part of the city from the 12th floor of a high rise building in a gated "compound" (as he calls it). There are many of these compounds throughout the city (and the country, apparently) that house rich Chinese and foreigners. Not unlike any other country, the majority of the population isn't so fortunate. They often live in small homes, sometimes behind (or in the back of) a small shop they own, or just in crappy housing communities or apartments.

The weird thing here -- at least around Jon's house -- is that the poorer areas are just across the street from his compound. In the States, we certainly have a stratification of economic prosperity among citizens. Whether it's as large a disparity is debatable (I'd say it probably is close), but I feel that you can live as a middle-class citizen in the Bay Area nearly your whole life and keep sequestered into your fine middle class life pretty well. 

The way the neighborhoods meld different classes of people together here is what strikes me, I suppose. It seems that this is something common within the third world.

Speaking of third world, this place isn't nearly as third world-y as I had expected. While the city is generally dirty and there are obviously lots of poor people, there are huge communities filled with large, interesting buildings; beautiful, well-kept parks; fancy, Western-style restaurants where you can easily pay Western prices for a meal; nice hotels; etc. I have seen more than a handful of Ferraris and Mazerattis intermixed with the Mercedes, BMWs, Volkswagen, Toyota and other "normal" cars. So, while there is a third world thing going on here, we, as Westerners, essentially operate in a completely separate universe (along with a whole bunch of rich Chinese people) that somehow runs right alongside another, very different world. 

It's odd. And interesting. 

I feel like people want to experience "the real" place they're in. People always say that when they go on vacation -- "I want to hang with the locals, see what they do". But in this case (and in probably lots of cases), this is the "real China" for me. Just as I wouldn't be hanging out in the ghetto in America (because I'm an educated, middle class white lady), I'm not with the factory workers or eating street food here in China. So, even though I'm not experiencing the China that so many millions of other people do, I am experiencing the only China I probably can.

Welcome to Beijing

Hi. I'm in Beijing. 

Which is slightly more exciting than Delaware (please get my Wayne's World reference). We arrived Thursday afternoon Beijing time and made it pretty effortlessly over to Jon's apartment. We were greeted at the airport by one of those cab drivers holding a sign with your name on it. But this time it had my name on it. Weird.

The drive was about 30-45 minutes through freeway traffic. Since I was expecting Thailand driving and Thailand traffic, I was pleasantly surprised. Which doesn't mean these people are great drivers or that the freeways are safe, necessarily, but Thailand was certainly a whole different beast. 

The driving method here: stay generally in the lanes but feel free to float between lanes at your leisure with or without signaling. Go ahead and drive on the shoulder if you are so inclined. Honk at other drivers for any reason at all just as long as it's with great frequency. Nudge pedestrians or bicyclists out of the way with your car if you so choose. Generally don't give a crap about anyone else, but be more passive/aggressive about it than, say, a New York driver. Dad, I think you would like it.

The main complaint we've had in our 24+ hours here is the pollution. It's nuts. Officially known by the government as "fog", the stuff is ubiquitous and relentless. You are literally walking around in a cloud of soot all day and all night long. If you clean your house, all surfaces are immediately covered in a layer of gross (if you've opened the windows). The cars on the street look a bit like they've driven through a volcano zone if you get close enough. And it certainly inhibits the views of what would otherwise, I suspect, be a relatively beautiful city.

Ok, my friends are starting to get savvy to the trend of waiting on me... more later. Off to the Olympic Park today!

3-1-1

Ok. YOU STILL CANNOT BRING LIQUIDS ON AN AIRPLANE. What is up with that? I really thought that was totally just a fad and it would go away. It's not, apparently. Planes are liquid-free for eternity.

The only way you can bring liquids (or gels -- what qualifies as a gel, exactly, besides sticky hair stuff?) onto the plane directly (you can have all the liquids you want in your check bag) is by using the 3-1-1 rule. Which makes it sound kind of like an emergency. 

"OMG, she has a water bottle, call 3-1-1!!!"

3-1-1 means you can have as many 3oz bottles that will fit into a 1qt baggie, and each person can bring only 1 of said baggies. And you put this baggie into one of the x-ray bins by itself -- don't get all sneaky and try to put the baggie into your carry-on luggage. So, having a plethora of Ziplock sandwich bags and Ziplock gallon bags, I was mildly upset (like, to the tune of an eye roll) to find that I had to purchase another breed of Ziplock product: the One Quart bags. Which is, incidentally, nearly exactly the size of a sandwich bag. Who are the communists now?

So now that my liquids and gels (does a stick of deodorant qualify as a gel?) are safely stowed into a burstingly full baggie of appropriate size, I had a glance over the prohibited items list on the TSA website. Just a few items that I had to double check I wasn't bringing (which are, surprisingly, not allowed):

• Sabers
• Meat Cleavers
• Spear Guns
• Cattle Prods
• Nunchakus (um, more surprised at the actual spelling of that word, to be honest)
• Dynamite
• Vehicle Airbags
• Gel Shoe Inserts

So, I will, unfortunately, have to leave my dynamite-filled nunchakus airbags at home. And I will have to forego the added comfort of my gel inserts. Harumph.

Flight tomorrow, weeeeee!

Oh, Right -- They're Communists

Just after emailing my friends and fams yesterday about my plans to blog all about China while I'm there, Jon mentioned that China -- like, the country -- blocks this website. I will not be able to post while I'm there because in China, this website does not exist.

So, along with Facebook, YouTube, and select other forbidden websites, Blogger, in all its evil glory, will be beyond my reaches. My counter move: I'm just going to write whatever I was going to post in emails and send those to anyone interested. Then I'll just post the entries when I get back.

If you want to receive my "blog" entry emails, shoot me an email. I'm not about spamming. Except for some of you, you're on the list no matter what. You know who you are.

In a barrage of questions to Jon tonight over gmail, this tidbit arose:

Me: Will I be bigger than everyone there?
Jon: Elijah will be feared as some sort of giant god-king
       You will be taller than most
       Carissa will fit right in.

Yep, that about says it.

China

Hi, remember me? I used to have a travel blog. It was this travel blog. Dormant for over two years, it will now be resurrected for my upcoming trip to China. And now, I will continue this post in subtitle format:

Why China?
My BFF Jon lives in China. He's lived there for a year, and he's contracted to be there for another year. He works for Amazon.com and does programming things. Carissa, Elijah and I have chosen a date, purchased tickets, navigated the horror that is the Chinese Consulate to obtain visas, and will be flying for 12 hours directly to Beijing this Wednesday at noon.

Getting Ready
What have I done to prepare for this trip, you ask? I told the people at work that I'm going. That's about it. Go me! Yesterday I took my cat to my mom's (thanks mom) and unearthed my suitcases from under mom's house. Today I bought some shoes* and shorts. I went from zero to four pairs of shorts within one hour at Old Navy. Would you call that wardrobe shock?

Luggage
I think I'm going to try to pack everything in a carry on. Honestly, I wear the same clothes over and over on vacation, Jon will have laundry facilities, and we're not exactly going to be dressing up. Plus, the weather forecast is "hot as balls", as Jon puts it, so I won't need to be packing my standard snow defenses (which I use against 60 degree weather). We'll see how it goes.

The Plan
Car and EJ will be there for one week, while I'm staying for two. They want to mainly stay in Beijing, which is fine by me. We'll see the Wall. (You know the one.) And other stuff that is yet to be researched. I want to go down to the Terracotta Warriors. It's a two hour plane ride from Jon's, so it's a bit more than just a simple day trip, but I'd like to stay the night down there and put in the effort to see these things. After Car and EJ leave, Jon and I might head to Shanghai for a couple nights. In short, we have No Real Plans.

Summary
China. Two weeks. Jon, Carissa, Elijah. Hot as balls. New shorts and shoes. No checked luggage. No plans. Let's do this.

*Apparently I did not learn my lesson in Japan: I have once again bought shoes to wear for the first time while traveling. It's a risk, but I'm a spaz and never have appropriate and/or new clothes/footwear for seemingly any occasion. 

New Template!

Blogspot is offering new templates for blogs, so I went ahead and updated my Travel Angie and my California Dreaming sites...what do you think? I think they're purty.

Belated Texas Post

While our trip to Austin occurred over a month ago, I feel as though I would be remiss if I overlooked the event entirely on my travel blog. We're not doing serious travel at this moment in our lives, but when we do some minor travel, why not blog about it?

I had not seen my Texas cousins since Monique's wedding in 2007. They have historically made the trip out to Cali once a year but between Kane and I leaving for Oz in late 2007 and the two Texan ladies each popping out a baby boy in the interim, it was quickly approaching the time where three years would have passed since our last reunion.

This is not ok. Some people are cursed with family they don't like, and that's something they have to live with. I, on the other hand, love my family. I am related to some really fabulous people and am pretty dang happy about it. Adele and Monique (et al) are two such family members. We, therefore, made all efforts to find a date where the stars aligned and our crew could hang with their crews.

So for one fine day at the end of May, Mom, Jenny, Kane and I flew with Miss Taylor-face over to Austin to meet Adele, JJ, Isaac, Monique, John M., Henry, John and Denise. Yes, it actually happened.

While the trip was short and our time to spend with everyone was even shorter, it was worth the trip. We swam with the kiddies in Barton Springs had a picnic lunch, enjoyed some fine Mexican food, swam the following day with Henry at Big Stacey pool, and had a lot of fun chill out time at Monique's and John's house.

The baby (Taylor) wasn't an angel on the airplane, but it's hard to blame her; flying isn't exactly fun. The trip was a bit hectic, the weather was hot and humid, and the baby managed to exhaust the four of us with ease. But it was great to meet some other babies we're related to, catch up with far-away family, and enjoy some fabulous food (out of the house and in--John M.'s a fabulous cook). Thanks so much for having us, Texans, we had a great time!!!

Have a look at all of my best pics on my Texas 2010 Picasa album!

Play Money

That's sort of what Japanese money looks like--play money. I guess that's what all foreign currency looks like compared to our greenbacks; why don't we use more color in our money like everyone else? Who knows; I digress.

We spent three weeks in Japan spending play money all over the place. Here, I can finally show you the coveted pie chart that documented the entirety of our spendings. Ta-da:


This was the first (documented) trip where we ever broke the budget. We've gotten rather good at estimating travel costs and knowing the cost of our travel style. We made two main errors in calculating our estimated costs for this trip:

1. I accidentally forgot to multiply the cost of our hotel by the number of night we were staying. Our original estimate hence only included like 5 nights of hotel. Oops.
2. We drastically underestimated the cost of transportation around the cities.

These weren't really huge tragedies, but it did leave us about 18% over budget (after adjusting for the hotel pricing blunder). Most of that error was due to severely underestimating the quantity--and hence the cost--of subways, taxis, and train tickets during our travels.

Here is the breakdown of estimated versus actual costs (in US dollars for both of us together), with the percent over (or under) budget:

• Accommodation: Prediction $1807, Actual Cost $1614, 89%
• Transportation: Prediction $267, Actual Cost $1118, 418%
• Food: Prediction $900, Actual Cost $1272, 141%
  
• Activity: Prediction $720, Actual Cost $501, 70%
• Stuff: Prediction $90, Actual Cost $147, 163%
• Other: Prediction $180, Actual Cost $25, 14%
• Flight: Cost $1524 (no prediction)
• Insurance: Cost $43 (no prediction)
  

So, as you can see, transportation was what killed us. We just didn't realize how many $1 trips we were going to need to take every day, and that they would rack up to quite a bill. Accommodation was under $100/night on average, so we were happy with that, and we apparently used "Food" as an "Activity" since the surplus of the first fits nicely into the latter. Which is fine with me; food was a main part of the trip for me and I'm happy to fork out* the bucks for their delicious foods.

"Stuff" is anything we buy like gifts for others or souvenirs for ourselves. I think I pretty took over this category (surprise) and spent $70 of that on all my bowls. The "Other" category is for laundry expenses, ATM fees, and renting a locker at the train station. This ended up being minuscule on this trip, which I won't complain about.

The cost ended up being just over $150/day for each of us ($312 for both of us), compared to the $140/day each we had estimated. And we weren't doing the super-thrifty hostel route this time; we were almost traveling like normal people. I think it worked out well for being our most costly trip (per day) to date.

Overall, I pretty much don't care how much it cost because this trip was one of the best ever. It was totally worth it in order to spend time with two of our best friends enjoying a truly awesome culture and probably my favorite type of food for three weeks. Plus, we technically spent our Australian dollars on this trip, which was left over from working there (oh so long ago), so it really is like spending play money anyway. Yeay for Japan!

*I suppose "chop stick out" doesn't exactly fulfill the needs of this phrase quite the same way? Har har har...

Serious about Souvenirs

If you recall, in 3.5 months in Europe I essentially bought only one thing for myself as a souvenir. It was a cute and portly piggy bank and I love him very much. He is currently full of change and holding up books on my bookshelf - he is multi-talented. Our trip to Japan was a bit different.

I mentioned that in Osaka there is an extensive web of shopping arcades. Block after block of pedestrian streets lined with shops, restaurants, and entertainment venues; one of the main attractions in Osaka, and other cities. It's fun to walk up and down the endless avenues and engage in total sensory overload of all the colors, flashy lights, loud noises, and masses of people. It was in this vast sea of commerce that I found the kitchen and restaurant supply area of stores.

This may not sound exciting; it's not like I'm in the market for a deep fryer while on vacation. And while they do sell stoves, mixers, and other large restaurant kitchen items, they also sell serving dishes. In America, we typically see the standard white, round ceramic plate at restaurants. Sometimes they go all chic and use square or rectangular plates. In Japan, each meal consists of a great many types of food, each with its own sauce or side. See the picture below for an example. This necessitates using up to half a dozen tiny plates and bowls to accommodate each person's meal. Hence, some of the stores in this fabulous area of town are what I like to call Bowl Stores, where people can purchase their multitudes of serving-ware.

The Bowl Stores make my eyes bug out and my heart skip a beat. I love bowls. I love all dishware in the same odd way that I love office supplies. Cute, decorative, and cheap Japanese dishes make me melt with happiness. There were half a dozen Bowl Stores in one strip of the Osaka arcades alone, in addition to there being a hearty dishware section at every dollar store (of which we frequented many, much to Marc and Kane's increasing dismay). It was fabulous. Look at the blissful chaos that is the Bowl Store:
I made multiple trips to the Bowl Stores, purchasing dozens of bowls and plates of different sizes and designs. Perusing the bowl selection was one of the most satisfying experiences ever. I bought a special little carrier to carry them home and Kane carried all these bowls for me from Osaka to Tokyo and then on the plane back - he's the nicest and bestest boyfriend ever. And so I arrived home triumphant, with not one broken or chipped platter, and am able to present you with this--behold the bowls that I bought in Japan:

Engrish

I think we take it for granted that it's hard to speak other languages. Well, maybe you and I don't take it for granted, since we probably don't speak any other languages and have little prospects of learning (myself at least), but as a society I think we kind of do. Example: I am assuming that any billboard written in Spanish (there are plenty in Hayward) is written in correct Spanish. Similarly, when I see the menu at a Chinese restaurant, or see the labels on my hair dryer in 14 languages, I'm assuming they are all written in proper other-language.

I suppose the first problem with this assumption is that there is no way for me to know this. But the validating fact for this assumption is that we, in America, have access to people speaking pretty much every language. It would not be difficult to hire someone to correct your Mandarin or Farsi or French around here. It would probably be difficult to find someone who couldn't correct your Spanish. You get my meaning - there are a zillion of us crammed into America, and we're from all over and speak a variety of languages. We're all used to it by now.

In Japan, this is not the case. 98% of the population of Japan is Japanese. Can you imagine such homogeneousness*?! I did find it odd. Everyone is Japanese! Anyway, the point I'm getting at is that they may not have someone - their neighbor, co-worker, friend - who speaks every other language on the planet. When they print signs or goods with English words, for example, they don't necessarily have a proofreader driving by in every other car, or sitting at the table deciding how the words will go. At least I assume this is the case, as it seems reasonable to me. It is this occurrence leads to what we call Engrish**.

We know that Japanese (and I think Chinese, too?) people have a problem with the Ls and Rs in our language. They also have problems with articles (a, the, an) and general word placement. When we were in Japan, we saw this all over. And though I love Japanese people, their culture, and, let's face it, their food, I found it humorous to poke fun at them from time to time. I hope they don't take too much offense as I point out some of the better Engrish that we came across during our trip.

Exhibit 1: Food-Related Engrish (click to enlarge)

The motto "Italian food of sticking to" is just not a catch phrase that draws me in the door. I'm not sure exactly what they mean by "Not for having but for tasting", but it may just be a stupid phrase instead of bad English. Pretty sure they shoved an extra "h" in the "silky touch" napkin, and, my personal favorite...miso soup is "soup from soybean past"...so spooky.

Exhibit 2: In Store Notices (click to enlarge)

I think the "it is accounting in each floor" was trying to tell you that every floor has its own cash register and you should check out with the stuff you buy on each floor rather than carry it all around the complex. But, I am clairvoyant, so I'm not sure how anyone else interprets this. I did "take care about the foot", thanks for the warning. However, I found it hard to not touch the wall while I repaired it, though I tried my hardest. They were so close with "the front entrance is this place", but, no cigar.

Exhibit 3: Engrish at Museums and Sites (click to enlarge)

No idea what sign #1 is trying to say about the "hot fighting"; this was a label at a museum exhibit. The other three were at a monkey park outside of Kyoto. These people need some assistance with their translations, that's all I'll say.

Exhibit 4: Dollar Store Engrish (click to enlarge)

Yes, the dollar store. Why do they offer items in English at the dollar store when the English is totally unintelligible? I have no idea. Is it extremely amusing? Yes it is. Am I going to stop answering my own questions? Yes, I am. These were all little envelopes, I'm not sure what you're supposed to use them for. The quotes are: "The place is his reserved seat. He generally passes daytime there."; "Pleasure to have a gut feeling" (my personal favorite, so romantic); and "Heaven Scent: For a wonderful friend! A perennial favorite." Them's sum gud Engrish.

A couple more good ones:

This sign (above) makes slightly more sense when you know that the store is called "can-do". Also, a wagon is a shopping cart. For everything else, you're on your own.

The only thing funny about this sign is the bottom right warning. No danger allowed.

And finally, the finale (above, click to enlarge) - the remaining Engrish signs that I photographed while we were in Japan. Enjoy.

*I looked it up, that is a word.
**By the way, there is indeed an entire website dedicated to this, engrish.com, and no, I have not submitted anything.

Tokyo Subway at Rush Hour

Tokyo has one of the largest and busiest subway systems in the world. One of the main inner-city stations, Shinjuku station, boasts over 3 million people passing through it every day, making it the busiest train station in the world. Though we did not experience this particular station during peak hour (which I'm sort of thankful for), we did manage to capture a glimpse of the madness on our last morning in Japan.

We wanted to see the Tokyo fish markets, which are best before, like, 6am, but go strong until around 10-11am, per our guidebook. We had gone the day before, but some unknown holiday meant that it was closed (we were upset at the early wake-up for no reason). This was our last day to try it - we were up at 6:45 and out the door two hours later (we had to eat, pack, and check out in the interim). And so it was at the tail end of rush hour that we approached the subway, and were finally up early enough to see it at it's very worst.

To be honest, we were both morbidly curious about the subway at rush hour. We'd heard tales of transit employees being placed outside train doors for the specific purpose of shoving people onto the trains to pack them as full as possible. We did not see this particular practice, but we did experience a mass of humans unlike anything we've ever seen, even in all our travels.

Our entrance station was at the end of a subway line, so when we got on, there were very few people. We took good standing positions against the far wall across from the doors (leaning against the inoperable doors), so as to ensure easy access when we needed to exit. The station we wanted was about ten stops down the road, so we had a bit of time to wait.


At each stop, a relatively large number of people would get on our train. In Japan everything is orderly and calculated, so at every stop there was a neat line of business people standing in front of each train door. The train conductor parks the train at each station such that the doors line up exactly with the noted marks on the floor of the platform. The trains are always on time, and when they pull up, the doors open, the line of people steps aside to let any passengers wishing to disembark out of the train, and then proceeds to file onto the train in the order in which they arrived at the station. It's blissfully calm and organized.

At rush hour, this process is no different, except that the amount of free space on each train car diminished very quickly and we all had to pack tighter and tighter at each stop. After a few stops, the train was what I would consider full. All the seats on either side of the train were taken, and all the standing room was filled. I was still comfortable at this point though, with a modest amount of space between myself and those passengers around me such that we weren't in constant physical contact.

At the next stop, this changed. About 20 more people filed on with no hesitation; now we were all smooshed together, body to body. Ok, I've been to concerts before, no big deal, it's only for a few stops. Next stop, 20 or so more people smash onto our train. Now we're not just touching the other passengers, we're pushing on them and they on us. Odd, but, people have places to go, so we'll have to deal with it. Next stop, 20 more people get on. At this point, we were really squished. I hadn't really though it was possible to pack more people on the train, but apparently it was. Fortunately we were against the back wall so we were only surrounded by people on one side and not the other. I was smashed against the inoperable door so hard, I thought I might break it.

At this point, I was highly amused. Can you imagine being smashed on a BART train or any other urban train system like this? You'd have obnoxious teenagers yapping to each other, moms babbling away on cell phones, homeless dudes trying to cop a feel. The Tokyo subway at rush hour is not like this. Everyone is in business clothes. Suits, leather shoes, nice coats. Their hair is combed. Everyone showered but a few short hours ago. No one is on a cell phone, and in fact, no one speaks at all. It's a completely homogeneous crowd of well-dressed, silent people. It's fabulously entertaining.

And though pick pocketing and groping aren't the norm, groping has become quite a problem in these consistently over-packed cars. Men who molest women on the crowded subway cars are called chikan and are apparently fairly common. It is for this reason that certain railway lines have instituted "women-only" train cars during rush hour, so that women can be safe on their ride to/from work. I did not see nor experience any of this (except that I saw the women-only cars), but it's interesting to know what's going on under the surface.

The best part? Once the train car was completely full and we all had to take turns breathing in, the way additional people cram onto the car was like this:

1. Doors open
2. New passenger standing at the entrance to the train car turns around so that their back faces the train and the solid mass of people inside it.
3. New passenger backs into the mass of people in the train car.
4. Mass of people on the train somehow absorb this extra person, and the person wiggles themselves on until they've cleared the threshold for the doors.

It is both incredible and hilarious to watch. And everyone knows the protocol! Not one frightened or confused passenger took a look at us sardines and waited for the next train. Each person took stock of the situation, turned around, and backed into the hoard of humans behind them. If I had had the space for my lungs to expand to chuckle, I would have.

At this point the train car really was full. We were reluctantly accepting one or two people at each stop, and we were so smashed together that each additional person stepping on the train was a true feat. While Kane and I figured we would survive this endeavor, we weren't sure how we'd get off the train when our stop came. There was no way we could "excuse me" our way through the crowd like on a normal train. We had resolved that we'd be forced to miss our exit and get off at the first station where it was physically possible, then get back on the opposite direction and hope we could exit at our stop. There was just no other way.

As we approached closer and closer to our stop, we kept hoping some people would get off the train. They wouldn't. Where were all these people going? How could they do this every day? We didn't want to miss our stop, but what else could we do? We pulled up to the stop right before ours. Everyone on the train emptied out onto the platform one by one, leaving the two of us and a few weary stragglers on the train car. Deep breath, and, sigh. Thank goodness. Where were they all going? I have no idea. But we were fortunate enough to be heading to a stop that came after wherever they were all going. Whew.

So, with a clear view of the floor of the entire train (which was, and is, always spotless, by the way), we sauntered off the subway train at our intended stop, free from harm. We made it through the Tokyo subway at rush hour, and we're darn proud.

Japanese Food

I loved Japanese food before we even set foot on Japanese soil. I love lots of food, hence why I now have a food blog. But Japanese food has long held a special place in my heart. I'm really glad that I waited until my Japanese food tastes matured to a point where I could enjoy a lot of what Japan had to offer (namely sushi and sashimi) before venturing across the great Pacific. I don't eat meat that isn't seafood (no beef, pork, chicken, etc.), so there was a certain amount of food in Japan that I didn't experience. I'm not really sad about it the same way I'm not sad about missing those foods in my own country. It doesn't work if you're always yearning for food you "can't" have; I like being veggie/fishie. Fortunately, the Japanese are very keen on their seafood, and so am I. We got along well.

The first thing I was wondering with three weeks of vacation ahead of me was if I was going to get sick of Japanese food. I tend to get sick of things quickly. Not only that, I tend to binge on one type of food for a while and then get so sick of it that I never want to see it again. It's sort of irritating - send your sympathy to poor Kane who has to deal with it. This is one reason that I love living in the Bay Area; great food of all different nationalities at my fingertips all the time. I never have to get sick of anything because I can constantly change it up.

In Japan, they eat Japanese food. They have other food, but they mostly have Japanese food. And since I love it so much, I was happy to have it for every meal every day. This is what I thought might kill the whole experience - too much too fast. But I found that I did not get sick of Japanese food. I loved it for every meal, every day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for three weeks straight did not curb my desire for this kind of food. Sure, I got a bit sick of all the deep fried stuff after a while, and the strictly protein/rice diet was starting to weigh on my system a bit, but I was far from sick of the food. In fact, the day after we got back, I was sad to have cereal for breakfast; I wanted my weird Japanese breakfast that I'd grown to love. So let's talk about some of the food we had and where we had it.

Breakfast
I'm not sure what people in Japan eat for breakfast, like, in the privacy of their homes. There were occasional bake shops, and things like pancakes and waffles could be found at certain restaurants, though they're usually for dessert. This is what we were served, generally, every morning at our hotel:

• Rice Balls: small triangular balls of cohesive rice, sometimes with something in the middle like tuna or pickles, sometimes with stuff sprinkled on the outside like seaweed flakes or sesame seeds.
• Pickles: pickles are everywhere in this country, they seem to pickle everything. I didn't always know what vegetable I was eating a pickle of, but they were offered with most breakfasts, and most meals for that matter.
• Bread: thick, white bread cut in half. There was a toaster and butter and jam packets. I don't know how this fits in with the rest of the Japanese stuff, but I ate it all.
• Rolls/Croissants: depending on the hotel, sometimes there was bread, sometimes rolls or croissants instead.
• Salad: Green salad with choice of ginger-oil or mayonnaise-based dressing.
• Macaroni or Potato Salad: we liked to call the macaroni salad "mayonnaise noodles" because that's what they were. Potato salad was consistently good, in my opinion.
• Mini Sausages: sometimes there were party wieners. Why? Not sure. I avoided them.
  
• Miso Soup: always delicious, see the picture below for a humorous sign (I wonder if they serve soup from soybean present?):

• Tea/Coffee/OJ (sometimes)/Milk (sometimes)

I typically had a breakfast of salad with ginger dressing, miso soup, rice balls, pickles, potato/macaroni salad, and toast or croissants. It was great. I love salad for breakfast, it's so refreshing. Miso soup should be at every meal in my opinion; it's light, salty, tasty, warm. I love this breakfast and I want it in my home. It's just not the same when I make it though...

Nomihodai
One of the more interesting things we encountered in Japan was nomihodai, pronounced, roughly and in my crappy American accent nom-ay-hoo-dye. This means "all you can drink". This is offered sometimes at bars (with a time limit) and you can get totally plastered for a less-than-standard fee, but we utilized this fabulous idea in a much more fun and coherent way. We found a coffee shop with an all-you-can-drink beverage bar. This particular coffee shop had no English menu, so we could not figure out what the deal was with the drinks, but Marc faithfully remembered the word for all you can drink and we were able to do it. The listed three different prices for the all you can drink bar, but we didn't know the difference (maybe one was for cold beverages only, one for hot, and one for both? we couldn't tell) and just had to hope they charged us accordingly.


It was awesome. There's the coffee machine to the far left - but we couldn't read the labels so we weren't sure exactly what we were getting each time. Trial and error is a good tactic at the all you can drink bar. Plus, Japanese coffee is terrible anyway, so it's pretty much just an exercise in how much sugar and milk you can physically fit into your coffee cup to make it palatable. Next to that is the hot tea area, then the iced tea jugs, then the wacky soda machine (see green soda below - not sure what flavor it was exactly), then the hot chocolate machine, which was the star of the show. We had a fabulous time getting all water-logged before a day of walking around.


Sushi Train
For lunch (and sometimes dinner) we often found ourselves being sucked into a sushi train restaurant. They have these kinds of restaurants in America (and Australia) too, but there's one on every block in a downtown area of Japan. A sushi train works like this: you are seated in a row at a counter, like in an old coffee shop. In front of the counter is a conveyor belt that winds around the restaurant in front of all the customers. On the conveyor belt are little plates, each with a type of sushi on it. The patrons view the plates as they pass by on the conveyor in front of them, and take whatever looks good. You take the whole plate off the conveyor, eat what's on it, and stack up all the plates you take so they can bill you at the end. In the middle of the sushi train, the area in the center of the big conveyor belt loop, are the sushi chefs. They make little plates of sushi and continuously refill the conveyor belt with these plates as they are taken by the patrons. It's a fabulous idea and I think all food should be served this way. It means you get a little bit of everything you want. It's fabulous!

Most places have about six different colors of plates, all corresponding to different prices, which are posted all around the restaurant for you to consult. Some sushi trains offer all the plates at the same price, which makes it easier for us cheapos, though the dishes don't get quite as fancy when they're cheap like that. Then you can also summon one of the chefs or a host/ess if you want to order something in particular, which they'll happily make and deliver to you. The ginger and soy sauce is unlimited and free and lives on the counter between every other seat where you can take it at your leisure to go with your sushi. There are some other variations of this arrangement, but those are the basics of the sushi train...and it's making me want some right now. Let's look at some of my sushi train pics (click to enlarge):


Izakaya
An izakaya (pronounced is-uh-kie-uh) is supposed to be a place where you get drinks and have some little foods to accompany the drinks, like tapas. We used this for full blown dinner probably a dozen times. And forget the drinks, we'll have tapas with tapas, thank you very much. Most of these places had an English menu (we had to share it between us) which we'd use to order many rounds of dishes during our stay. And the very best part? The button. To call the waiter over, you press a button at your table. Within seconds (usually) your waiter has arrived, ready to take your next order. It's fabulous. We really racked up quite a bill a few times (oh this is only $5, and this is only $3...and on and on), but had a pretty dang good time doing it. Here's some izakaya food that we enjoyed (click to enlarge):


And while there is a whole plethora of other things to talk about, I'll stop this entry now before your eyes become too weary. Needless to say, I fully enjoyed the food in Japan, and just writing about it is making my tummy rumble. Oh, I could go for some sashimi right about now...

Karaoke Part II

So, you're sick of reading about Japan. I don't care, I'm writing more anyway. I kept a log of possible blog topics the whole time I was there just so that I could make sure to touch on the most interesting (to me) aspects of our trip when I got home. And by George (whoever he is), I'm using that list. Today is a bit of a reprieve since I'm discussing a topic previously blogged upon, but I have in store (hopefully) stories of food, Engrish, hotels, Tokyo Rush Hour, and, of course, an obligatory budgetary pie chart and commentary.

You may recall that I previously discussed at length the merits of Japanese karaoke, describing our experience in Kyoto thoroughly. First karaoke was a great time, we really loved it.

For good measure, we decided to try it again on one of the last days of the trip, this time in Osaka. We found a karaoke establishment of the same chain as the first one we went to, but this one was not nearly as nice. It was smaller, the lobby was not nearly as grandiose, and the rooms were older and dingier. For some reason the "Premium" rooms here were far more expensive than the Standard ones, so we went with the Standard.

We were met with a less thrilling version of the previous experience. The room was smaller, the walls were wood paneled, and the tv was not a flat screen (see below). Borrrrring. It was ok, and we had a good time, but it was nothing like the first time in Kyoto. Ah, memorieeees.


This time we chose such hits as: Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da, The Rose, Summer of '69, Waterfalls (my personal favorite), Billie Jean, Ain't too Proud to Beg, Hit the Road Jack, Rocky Raccoon, with a finale of The Cars' You Might Think. We did also manage to appropriately fit in Styx with Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto, so don't worry your pretty head about that one going missing.

Since my videos from the original karaoke incident have been properly stored and labeled, Kane has so generously agreed to be featured on this blog, singing his rendition of Billy Idol's Eyes Without a Face. This is from our original karaoke expedition and also shows Marc and Alana faithfully fumbling with the music remote control (it's all in Japanese, we were still figuring it out) and messing up Kane's song. Take it away, Kane:

Travel Companions

Note: The final set of Japan pics is here (Japan III: Osaka (again) and Tokyo).

---

When I tell people that Kane and I traveled with another couple for two weeks, I often get responses like,

"Did you guys drive each other nuts?"

"I don't think I would be happy to see that much of my friends."

"You guys hung out the whole time?"

Apparently it's quite a point of contention, even among the closest friends. How is it possible to be with another couple virtually non-stop for 15 days? I'm not sure, but it is. We did it.


Let's not ignore the fact that we had many a trial run with these particularly fine folks. We started hanging out at the beginning of 2008 and steadily ramped up our meet-up schedule for the following year and a half. Six months after we met them, we were seeing each other at least once a week. A year after we met, we were hanging out almost every weekend and at least once during the week. In March 2009 we geared up for our first trip together: a four day jaunt over to Alice Springs and Uluru in the hot, dry center of Australia. On that trip we were really attached at the hip, even staying in the same hotel room together. In June 2009 we put the pedal to the metal and moved our moochy-asses in with Marc and Alana, staying in their apartment for the few weeks until we left Australia permanently (sad face).

Making friends is a bit like dating. At first you know you like each other, but you're searching for things in common, looking to make some memories and establish some norms and inside jokes to work from. You get to know each other a bit better, and, assuming everything is still going well, you become more casual, make cruder jokes, and start to make memories together. You want to hang out more, but you don't want to impose; then you find out they feel the same way - joy! The best of friends remain friends even in the face of time and distance. Marc and Alana are those types of friends to us - we'd like to commit ourselves to a lifelong friendship with them. Did we friend-propose to Marc and Alana on this trip? No, but probably only to avoid the awkwardness.

It has always seemed plain, to me at least, that we're a group that gets along well. We work well together, we can make decisions, and we have a hierarchy for leadership already established (the boys are cool with whatever, Alana and I hash out the rest). None of us are drama queens (or kings). None of us are difficult or inflexible or overbearing. None of us are extremely different from the other three in what activities we'd like to partake during vacation*. None of us are easily offended or find it difficult to be relatively honest with each other. On this trip we each had our roles: Alana was the planner, I was backup planner and keeper of maps and directions, Kane told us which direction we were going/facing and was keeper of the guidebook and general carrier of stuff, Marc held the iPhone compass for when we came out of subway stops and had no idea which way we were facing. We all contributed to the "what do you want to do today?"s and the "what do you feel like eating for lunch"s. A well oiled machine; we were smooth.

It is these traits that seem to make good traveling buddies, for us at least. If at first they seem like good, solid people, test them out, then book a flight and enjoy. Or have a completely disastrous vacation, whichever happens first. For us, we had a great time together. I'll speak for myself (so as not to impose on my perhaps-politely-smiling-friends**) when I say that at no time was I peeved or dreading waking up to another day of sightseeing with Marc and Alana. As you know from my relationship with Kane, if it's the right person (or people), I am cool to hang out 24/7. Give me Marc and Alana any day (or all day every day) and I'll be happy.

*With the exception of Marc who likes to go drinking. For the most part, he didn't get his way, since the rest of us aren't as into it (mostly me). Sorry, Marc, I hope you can forgive.

**They're like, "What is she talking about? We're never booking a trip with those freaks again."