Spain

Hi. I'm in Spain. Did I not tell you? Well I'm here. For a week. All jetsetter and shiz. You know it.

My friend Mala has a friend who wanted to go to Tomatina. This friend, Marisa, booked a six person apartment in Valencia, Spain with her lifelong family friend, Jeremy. Jeremy lives in London. Marisa brought her boyfriend, Jeremy brought his friend Lloyd, and Mala brought me. So, there are six of us -- three boys and three girls -- in this pretty nice three-bedroom, two bath apartment north of old town Valencia for a week.

Except that Mala and I aren't going to stay here the whole week. We're gonna go to Barcelona on Thursday after Tomatina on Wednesday. Then we head back home on Sunday. Just in time to kick back for Labor Day. Yeah, planned that.

So, Spain. Valencia. It's on the Mediterranean and is like the Florida of Spain (geographically). Actually, now that I look at it, it's probably more like the North Carolina of Spain. Forget it; stupid analogy. They use the Euro here, although you may have heard about some of their problemos with that on the news. Nothing to notice here on the ground, of course.

This town is ok. Not hecka nice. Kinda dingy. But the old town has lots of restaurants and bars. Even though the restaurants don't open for dinner until at least 6pm, and the bars don't start to fill up until 11pm. Or so I've been told. We didn't make it that long on our first day; it was all we could do to stay awake until 10.30.

But today is our second day, Monday, and we're mildly refreshed. We went to the aquarium which is a huge complex of weird buildings. There were some fish there, as you might imagine. A few penguins. Sharks. It wasn't the greatest place ever, but we had a good time.

It's about a billion degrees here. And humid. Not deathly so, but I'm certainly not used to it. I keep trying to complain about the heat, but my muscle memory starts to say, "it's so goddamn cold" and I have to correct myself every time to say "hot". San Francisco in August isn't really wonderful. I'm not sure which I prefer, really.

This group of people is funny. I love British people. They really get my humor. And vice versa. The six of us are having a great time together so far. It makes this mildly sub-par city totally worth hanging out in. But I'm glad we're going to Barcelona after -- I think that will be a more world-class city. I'll let you know.

In summary: Spain. Vacation is awesome. Valencia isn't the nicest, but whatever. Throwing tomatoes at people on Wednesday. It's hot here. British people are funny. That is all.

Terracotta Warriors

The terracotta warriors are one of the major tourist attractions in all of China. When they tour some of the life-sized clay warriors to different museums around the world, they get turnout like they do for Tutankhamun. I realize that sentence contained an unclear pronoun, but I don't care.

Jon and me inside Pit #1.

So, the deal with the terracotta warriors is, essentially, that people are crazy. I will elaborate. In the 200s BC the first emperor of united China took over. He decided at some point that he didn't want to die like the rest of us and roam the afterlife unprotected and without anyone to boss around. So he mobilized 700,000 people* to build him an immense army of warriors made of terracotta clay to be buried with him.

The estimated 8,000 warriors were built in an assembly line fashion, each individually carved with unique faces, hand painted and provided real weapons to hold. Then they were carefully lined up in huge ditches in the ground, covered with wood beams to form a roof above them, and buried underground near the tomb of the emperor they were to guard. In the afterlife. Yeah.

Terracotta warriors: always willing to lend a hand.

Most of the weapons were pilfered shortly after the warriors were placed, at which time many of the warriors were also broken and the tombs set fire. (Early form of "going postal", perhaps?) Then, over the next two thousand years or so, they were mostly forgotten during which time the wood roofs above the ditches degraded and collapsed, breaking every single soldier into a zillion pieces.

Then some farmer found them while digging a well in 1974, and excavation/restoration has been taking place ever since. That farmer was signing books at the site when we were there. Or, I suppose, it could have just been some dude, I have no way of knowing.

Jon and I flew to Xi'an, the ancient capital of China (now just a regular small-ish city), stayed overnight, and then took a tour to the warriors the following day before flying back to Beijing. Our tour consisted of a bus ride to one of the shops where they supposedly make the replica warriors, then to the pits where the warriors reside.

Creating warriors in 2012.

There are three pits, and an enclosed building has been built around each for tourists to view the pits. The area surrounding the pits has been made into a nice complex with foliage and well-kept pathways/quads.

The first pit is the largest and coolest. It has an estimated 6,000 warriors in it, only a few hundred which have been excavated and re-assembled. I think this was the most disappointing part of the visit -- I expected to see a sea of thousands of warriors, but there were really only a few hundred assembled. But it was still cool.

Pit #1

The second pit was the second largest and has not been excavated at all. It's just a building built around all the caved in pits where soldiers still remain broken inside their 2200 year old tombs. One reason they haven't ripped them all open is because when the painted clay is exposed to the air, any remaining paint falls right off. They are trying to develop some method of retaining the paint while they excavate before they take them all out. Plus, it's a huge task that will cost lots of money and take tons of time.

Pit #2 is unexcavated. There are warriors in there!

Pit three was the "command center" of the army and is the smallest pit. It has been fully excavated and the figures re-assembled. Which wasn't as difficult because there were only a few dozen figures here.

Pit #3: The Command Center.

This attraction wasn't super easy to get to (2 hour flight from Beijing then an hour bus ride outside of Xi'an), but it certainly could have been worse and I'm glad we went. Plus, any trip with Jon is fun!

*China probably didn't have quite the population they do now. This is a ridiculous number of people to have doing any one thing (except, like, breathing) 2200 years ago.

Blonde Hair

As you might have guessed, blonde hair is not terribly common in China. Like most countries that aren't the United States (and Australia), the vast majority of the country's population consists of people originally descended from that country. And since we all know what Chinese people look like, you can imagine that I was a bit of an outlier.

It's true: I have blonde hair.

Due to the unspoken rules that China has regarding staring -- namely that it does not appear to be a rude thing to do and that people of all ages just go right ahead and do it at their leisure -- I was often stared at. I'm sure my American travel-mates were stared at a good amount as well, but I believe it was the hair that put me over the top.

It wasn't like I was a freak show. But a large percentage of people old and young, male and female would simply stare at me for way longer than is socially acceptable in my country as I walked by/sat on a bus/ate dinner. It was totally weird. I would consistently consider if I had something on my face or if a goiter had spurted from my neck since the last time I had viewed a mirror.

I found it most strange that the women were staring. It's not terribly uncommon for a man in my country to take a gander at me; I'm not delusional, though I am often oblivious. But to have women checking me out and not even trying to hide it was especially weird. And I would say I was nearly as popular with the ladies as I was with the men in terms of staring. I kept picturing them thinking, "oh hell no, girlfriend, go back to your country".

One man did ask to take a picture with me outside the Forbidden City. I thought he wanted me to take a picture of him; there was a bit of communication reconstruction required to establish his actual intentions. I took a picture with him and tried to smile real pretty. (Later in the trip someone asked to take a picture with Elijah on the Great Wall. So it wasn't just me; we're all white freaks, apparently.)

Another woman in an elevator picked up a lock of my hair as I stood in front of her. I slowly turned to give her a kindly "what the hell are you doing" look; she said something in Chinese that Jon's girlfriend translated to mean "pretty". Thanks lady, now stop touching me please.

So, if you feel like donning minor celebrity/freak status for some amount of time, dye your hair blonde and head to China. Note also that this was my experience in Beijing, the capital. I've heard it's far worse in the rural areas.

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.