And so I begins – what may be the last big adventure from China. This could be epic enough to rival the Great Siberian run from last Chinese New Year, but we will see. What originally started out as a revisit trip to Cambodia turned into a ski trip to Japan, and now ends up being a trek north in search of the Aurora Borealis. The seeds of the trip were planted last year when my Russia travel compadres and I discussed Iceland as a destination. That destination looked too arduous from a logistics perspective so Finland it is. I am sitting in Beijing Capital Airport Terminal #2 now waiting for a flight to Helsinki via Moscow where I will meet up with my Singapore friends (Adi and Rajiv) and my normal travel companion Aish who is flying in from US. We have three starting points to form the fellowship in this quest to go north of the 66.5⁰ parallel.

Back before buckets lists were popularized by Hollywood, I created a list of things to do before I died. For me life has always been about experiences and not about collecting things. Too many curious opportunities to not get out there – from skydiving to witnessing a favorite team reach their pinnacle to learning something that seems out of reach.   It was about fifteen years ago the list was created and it has gone through various modifications over the years. Some items accomplished, some no longer deemed as interesting and new items added. From the original list are two goals that hopefully will be experienced during this adventure.

The first is relatively guaranteed – “drinking champagne at the Arctic Circle”. This was added as a result of Jae and my first adventure to Alaska. When we crossed from the Yukon into what was then my 49^th state to visit on the Top of the World Highway into the city of Chicken we passed a turnoff that indicated 150 miles north to the 66th parallel.  Reaching the Arctic always seemed to me to a noble wanderer goal since it signified getting to the extreme areas of the earth. At that time we decided to pass on this diversion, but read in our AAA Tripbook that there was a tollbooth at the Circle where a gentleman would reward your accomplishment at reaching the remote outpost with a glass of champagne. I vowed then to come back and fulfill that quest. Little did I realize that almost 20 years later I would fulfill that goal on a different continent and maybe with vodka instead of champagne.  Could be that the glasses will raise in a toast to perseverance and opportunity. Once we leave Helsinki by train we will arrive in Rovaniemi and be at the Arctic Circle.  

The second bucket item list is more of a chance, the goal of witnessing the splendor of nature’s lightshow – the Aurora Borealis. Twice before I have been in a location north enough to witness it:  St. Petersburg last winter and the 1992 trip to Alaska was the other, but that was the time of the midnight sun. Neither time has luck prevailed, but hopefully this year we are helping luck. The Northern Lights are a result of solar flares from the sun and the peak times seem to be between October and March in the northern hemisphere. They also appear to run in 28 day cycles for reasons only an astrophysicist can understand. And I will tell you from reading many websites they sure cannot explain it. Once we exit the train in Rovaniemi we plan to continue heading north, only this time by car. Our ultimate destination is Inari in the area known as the Lapland. According to all the predictors we should be far enough north to witness the Aurora – either directly overhead or on the horizon. And according to limited internet data the chances appear to be about 50/50% whether the show will occur. Of course, then the weather comes into play. Perfect conditions are a clear sky for viewing and photographing. Reality is in winter it snows and is cloudy. We will see what fate has ordained, but what is a quest without a chance of failure?

The flight from Beijing to Moscow was a little painful, if only from a logistics perspective. It seems that in the last 6 weeks my air miles have totaled almost 1.5 times around the planet. The 8 hours on Aeroflot seemed to never end. My usual distractions of reading, movies, podcasts and music were inadequate on this trip. Then, to top it off, the Russian Airline ran 90 minutes late which gave only 30 minutes to get from Terminal F to Terminal D with the escort of a Russian gate agent ensuring I did not overstay my welcome in Moscow . Needless to say, I was the last one on the plane and my checked backpack – complete with tripod did not make the connection. Upon arrival in Helsinki the luggage representative informed me that Aeroflot would send the bag on the next flight which of course is tomorrow evening, 4 hours before our train disembarks to Rovaniemi. Houston, this could be a big problem.  Leaving the airport with my complementary overnight kit complete with one pair of socks and toiletries my mind wondered how much to tempt fate.

Helsinki is a city of a million residents if you count the suburbs.  As I ventured out in morning briskness for a walkabout it struck me that it was not as cold as I imagined. The temperature was about zero with a strong breeze from the north dropping the wind chill a bit. Not as bitter as Dalian. The sidewalks were covered with dirty slush reminding me of last winter’s walks through St. Petersburg and Yekaterinburg. The buildings are the familiar neoclassical style of St. Petersburg as well. A sprawling city without the towering high rises of China, one immediately notices the popularity of coffee shops and stylish stores. The citizens have the classically attractive Slavic features of blond hair, blue eyes and long legs. One can also see the toll of the harsh winter climate in the older population much like the upper Midwest. It was a delight to sip a good dopio after wandering a few hours in the crisp, clear winter morning.

We are planning to hedge our bets on seeing the Northern Lights by renting a car and traveling well north of the Arctic Circle to Inari for a couple of days. Along the way we will stay in igloos, log cabins and a snow hotel. Santa’s Village is on the way and sautéed reindeer is a local favorite in Lapland. My quick research shows that meat and fish are staples in Finnish cuisine so I am not sure what my vegetarian travel partners will do, maybe a diet of potatoes and turnips. The Geophysical Institute Auroral Forecast is showing ‘Moderate Activity’ for the 1^st and 2^nd of February when we will be in Inari. That means if it occurs the Northern Lights could be directly overhead.  One can only hope that the prediction is true and we will be able to witness one of nature’s amazing events in its full splendor.

For now I need to hope the Aeroflot comes through with my luggage tonight in time for catching the train north on the next leg of this adventure. I decided to trust in fate and count on a timely delivery of my clothes needed for the cold and my tripod. One thing is certain there will be many new experiences ahead for the next week to enjoy and capture with my camera. As they say in Finnish “ei hätää, ergo no problem.

Cambodia is a 2^nd world country without a doubt. In the Asia pecking order, Cambodia looks up to Vietnam who look up to Taiwan and China. There is no question in my mind that as labor costs increase in the more industrial Asian giants, the textiles and manufacturing will trickle down into places like Cambodia and Laos. It is a country of 14 million people, smaller than the Shanghai metropolitan area, and Siem Reap (SR) is home to just shy of 200,000 citizens. Agriculture (rice), and tourism are the local industries and the currency is the Real. It is worth noting that the US dollar is the preferred currency in SR to the point that the ATMs dispense USD as well as Real.

The country was ruled by the French as part of Indochina and then granted its freedom in 1953 along with Vietnam at the Geneva Accords. In 1973, the Khmer Rouge took power under the leadership of Pol Pot. Their extreme version of communism led to a huge number of deaths (the level of Crimes against Humanity) by forced labor, murder and starvation – 1.5-2 million is the average count, hence the Killing Fields moniker.  That number is particularly horrendous when taken in the context of a 7 million total Cambodian population. In 1978 Vietnam invaded Cambodia and captured Phnom Phen effectively ending the Khmer Rouge rule. Through the 1980’s the country had internal battles among three factions and in 1991 peace was established. Pol Pot died in 1998 – never tried for his atrocities against his county’s citizens. Today, Cambodia is ruled as a constitutional Monarchy. This means there is a King, and he then appoints a Prime Minister based on the recommended of an elected National Assembly who actually runs the country.  If the King dies without an heir a council can select a new King – which is good since the current King is heirless and rumored to be homosexual.

As we drove down the main drag of Siem Reap and pulled into the Prince D’Angkor Hotel it was striking how small the city was after living in China for over a year. The street was dotted with resorts and spas clearly calling out how the city mainly exists for the tourism of Angkor. A few vehicles and a lot of tuk-tuks lined the roads. A tuk-tuk is a motorcycle with a small carriage on the back to hold from 2-4 riders. Its name comes from the motorcycle sound. Our hotel itself was charming in my estimation – grand and large, French influence on the architecture and the inside decor.  Wooden floors, stairs and beams across the high, raised ceilings. There was a small bar to the right of the entry with a young, female singer and young techno-dude running the soundboard. She was singing old ballads from the US pop culture pretty well with his electronic accompaniment. The room was comfortable and the balcony overlooked what was billed as the largest saltwater pool in Siem Reap. After a long day of walking the ruins in the tropical heat it sure felt good.

Our driver from the airport had communicated to us that there was a ‘bar street’ a few blocks from our hotel. So after an evening of traveling from Vietnam we checked in, and went off in search of what we were sure was going to be a small street with a couple local bars. After a few blocks we were ready to give up, but suddenly the sound of music started to reverberate. Another block and could have sworn I was time machined back to college in Stillwater, Oklahoma. It was a pub street lined with small bars for two blocks. We settled in for a few nice cold ones, ate passable pizza, listened to American rock and pop, and watched the world go by before the next morning’s adventures to Angkor Wat. At one point we tried to order another pizza, but were informed the kitchen was closed. Spying a sign across the street advertising 24 pizza, we ordered a takeout to solve that problem. When it came time to leave we tried pay in Real, and were informed that they thought the currency was counterfeit. Explaining that we obtained the bills at the airport currency exchange and creating a little fuss solved that problem. The next day we got US Dollars from the ATM.

Angkor was built over 4 centuries starting around 800AD. The temples are a mixture of Hindu and Buddhist following the religion of favor for the King. The Khmer became one of the most powerful empires in Southeastern Asia under King Jayavarman II at the beginning of the 9^th century, and their rein lasted until the 14^th century when the Siamese emerged as a powerful force. Angkor Wat itself is a temple built in the 12^th century for the Hindu god Vishnu. It is built to represent Mount Meru which in Hindu mythology is home to the great deities (devas). Mt Meru is said to over 600miles high and all the planets circulate around it. Angkor Wat is not quite that big, but it is most impressive. Its image adorns the Cambodia Flag and sunrise photos dominate the tourist advertisements. In the 13^th century King Jayavarman VIII converted the country to Buddhism and Wat was converted as well. The sight is famous not just for its majestic structure, but also for the extensive stone bas reliefs depicting all kinds of Hindu mythology scenes along with Khmer battles and wars. The World Heritage Site is undergoing extensive reconstruction and preservation modifications to prevent further erosion.

As I sweated my way through the buildings and structures looking at the enormity of the ancient construction I tried to imagine the immense amount of labor and (forced) dedication to  complete a project of this size. The Angkor sites are built of sandstone presumably from a quarry located 25 miles to the north. One of the nice things about visiting Angkor today is there a few limitations to where you can wander and explore with the site. Each new path or room that you enter into contains bas reliefs of wonderful detail evoking a true sense of history and ancient imagination: dancing for the gods or king, or bloody battles and wars cover the walls with intricate details. The most famous relief in Angkor Wat is ‘the Churning of the Sea of Milk’ which shows devas and asuras (Hindu deva wannabes). The story goes that the devas had lost their strength and immortality because of a curse. In order to gain it back they needed to drink the nectar of immortality which was hidden in the sea of milk. To get to the nectar they use the serpent Vasuki to churn the sea of milk. There is some poison which a Lord saves the devas from, and 14 precious things come from the sea along with the nectar of immortality. The asuras get the nectar, are tricked to giving it to the devas and then they are all powerful again and defeat the asuras. You just have to love mythology and religion for its creativity – I am sure there is a great moral to the story that I am just too ignorant to understand.

A second stop on that first day was to the site of Ta Phrom which was a location for Tomb Raider. It is quite breathtaking with the figs trees growing in, on and through the ruins of the temples. The feeling of being in a different time and place was overwhelming when you managed to find yourself in a location without other visitors. I found myself trying to seek out the nooks and crannies that would place me alone with my imagination – wondering about the activities that took place here so many centuries ago.  My mind was conjuring up pictures and stories in my mind of rituals and potentially horrors that could be told if the walls could speak. As I wandered and wondered I took pictures knowing that the photos would not show the specters of creativity in my visions. I waited for Angelia Jolie or Harrison Ford to emerge and guide me to a mystery, but alas it was not to happen on that day.

We took an evening drive in our tuk-tuk through the countryside to the largest lake in Southeast Asia – Tonle Sap. The ride itself took us into the living areas along the lake where the homes were wooden shacks on stilts rising from the lake. It was here that you really got a sense of just how poor Cambodia is. What looked like multi-generational families living in conditions that someone from the US cannot really identify with – camping every day in a shack. We arrived at the lake and chartered a boat for a ride out to see the sunset over the lake. The boat motored through a village on the water where the families lived on their wooden houseboats. Families huddled around tables in the evening heat eating dinner and watching the boats filled with tourists heading out into the main lake. As we drove by I watched a mother pick up her daughter. They looked up as we slid by and stared over at us. I wondered what was in their minds at that moment. In my thoughts I wondered whether the little girl had enough food, or went to school; whether she was destined to be a fisher-person or rice field worker or maybe one of the children that surrounded us at each stop to sell us tourist goods at rock bottom prices. The sunset was nice, but not as glorious as is seen in the brochures. Those are saved for the rainy season and the lucky.

The Bayon and Angkor Thom was the main visit the last full day in Cambodia. This is the site of the Great Rock faces of Angkor. It is equally, if not more stirring than Wat. Bayon has 37 remaining stone towers with faces of either the Kings or Gods or Guardians depending on which theory you believe. The stone towers are varying in height and form a mountain of peaks. Most of the towers have a face on each side. The Bayon is the state temple at the center of Angkor Thom. Thom is the largest Angkor City and was built in the 12^th century as the capital of the Khmer civilization.  The bas reliefs within Angkor Thom and Bayon could keep you busy for weeks. There are depictions of daily life – from great feasts to cock fighting; epic wars – some showing elephants as the beasts of great battles and mythological representations.  The city is home to both the Hindu and Buddhist religions. It is the great faces though that overwhelm everything. Everywhere you look the giant eyes and smiles are seemingly looking in your direction. The lives and blood that must have fueled the construction must have been immeasurable. Witnessing ancient architecture this Angkor or Buddhist carvings in China really bring home the commitment and belief that dominated our ancestors. Religion and Gods were powerful motivators in ancient times and the results of these efforts and beliefs are just staggering to me. Even an understanding that most of cost of lives were forced from slaves you can’t help but wonder how rulers could value these monuments as being worth the cost of people. As beautiful and wondrous as they are you can’t escape trying to reconcile the blood and the salvation.

Our final evening in Siem Reap took us back to Pub Street, this time for an evening of margaritas and Mexican food. It was my first taste of mango margaritas and in the sweaty heat the frozen fruit slush with tequila was perfect. And for $1 who could complain. The nachos were good and the enchilada was passable. I was not transported back to New Mexico, but it was close enough. After dinner I wandered over to the ‘fish food massage’ on the main street. There my dogs went into the large aquarium filled with small minnows called ‘doctor fish’. They nibble at your feet and legs eating off the dead skin and reportedly cure skin disease and improve circulation. The practice is banned in the US for fear of transmitting disease, but is quite popular in Cambodia and Vietnam.  Personally, it I think it just provides a nice cool rest for the tootsies and a unique experience.

Siem Reap and Angkor was a visit that ranks quite high on my memorable Asia trips. Like Vietnam, it feels like I did not do Cambodia justice for all the exploration and experiences it offers. It may warrant a return trip during the dark, cold winter of Dalian to explore the further reaches of Angkor and the areas around Phnom Phem. The civilization of Khmer was one of the most powerful regimes in Southeast Asia and at times extended into Laos, Thailand, Vietnam, Myanmar and Malaysia.  Cambodia Angkor is a memorable testimony to the Khmer. However, there are also temples in Thailand that may also need to be explored with my eyes and camera.

Slideshow: http://wst2010.smugmug.com/Travel/Cambodia-October-2010/14319300_o7HVs

Vietnam was a colony known as French Indochina pretty much from the mid-1800’s until WWII. The French managed it as a plantation country that grew and exported coffee, tea and tobacco. The turn of the 20^th century started multiple attempts for the country to gain independence from France – all which failed. During WWII, Japan invaded Vietnam and took control from the French – using it as a base for invasions of Burma and India. In 1941 Ho Chi Min emerged with the Viet Minh as a communist liberation movement. After the defeat of the Japanese in WWII, the Viet Minh took control of Hanoi in northern Vietnam and proclaimed independence. Of course, the French weren’t too keen on this idea and sent forces to restore French Rule. In 1946, the Indochina War started and it lasted until 1954. It was during this war when China and Russia began supplying weapons and men to Ho Chi Min, and the US began to support the French with money and advisors. In 1954 at the Geneva Conference, French colonization was dissolved in Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. French Indochina was divided into North Vietnam, ruled by the communists and Ho Chi Min, and South Vietnam, ruled by the authoritarian Prime Minister Diem. The temporary demarcation line was the 17^th parallel. The idea was that the division was temporary until elections would be held and the country unified in 1956. The elections were never held.

We landed in Hanoi on the eve of the Thang Long – Ha Noi 1000 year celebration.  The city is truly ancient – the first known permanent settlement was Co Loa in 200BC. The city was named Thang Long in 1010 when the emperor reported saw a dragon flying from the river, and in 1831 it was renamed Hanoi. It has been the capital of Vietnam since 1954. The city was on the cusp of a 10 day celebration and we were informed that it was a festival when everyone in the city was happy. In general, my observation is that the Vietnamese are a quite friendly and engaging people. The first thing you notice about the city is that the main mode of transportation is a moped or scooter. They are everywhere and outnumber cars by what seems to be a million to one. The second thing you notice is the currency exchange rate of 20,000 Dong to a US Dollar makes your feel quite rich. You withdraw say 2 million from the ATM and are carrying around 500k bills. It feels like a lot until you realize spending 50,000 on a bottle of water is normal. The currency also makes for easy 9^th grade humor. The third thing you notice is that Vietnam is in the tropics – hot and even more humid. Sweat begins to pour from your pores from the moment you think about moving and it never stops. My attire was shorts and a loose shirt that were constantly drenched. The locals wear long pants and sleeves to avoid the sun. A guess you adapt because they weren’t walking around under a self-contained shower all day and evening like I was.

We visited the Hoan Kiem Lake early the next day and the city was alive with bands, and festivities starting to build. Apparently there was to be a big parade and show by the Presidential Palace that evening. The lake was bustling with people celebrating and we obtained tickets to the famed water puppet show for that evening. Unfortunately, we could only obtain the last row and we decided in the end not to attend due to time constraints – a 60,000dong loss. A tour through the old quarter showed many, many vendors strewn through the French architecture buildings.  People and scooters were everywhere. A quick stop in a local coffee shop introduced to my new favorite drink – iced Vietnamese coffee: a bold, strong brew over ice with a tablespoon of condensed milk. It is truly a most refreshing drink in the overbearing heat. We wandered toward the Presidential Palace and Ho Chi Min’s mausoleum, but they were blocked off in preparation for the evening’s festivities.  A visit to the Temple of Literature was not that enlightening after seeing some of the ancient steles in Xi’an, but it did provide some nice photo opportunities.  Overall, we only had one day in Hanoi and I don’t think we did the city justice given the long flight the day prior and the early departure the next day.

The French troops left Vietnam in 1956. Ho Chi Min implemented a huge program to return land to its original owners and in the process eliminated thousands of ‘class enemies’. In the south, Diem attacked the monotheistic Cao Dai and removed his political opponents. He also refused to hold elections. Instead, he rigged a poll and declared himself President of the Republic of Vietnam. The US was good with this since there was immense fear of what was known as the Domino Theory. In the wake of the China communists coming to power and the Korean War there was immense concern in the US government that if Vietnam fell to communism the rest of Asia and the Philippines would follow.  Senator John F Kennedy worried in a speech about stemming the “Red Tide” in Vietnam.  Ho Chi Min began supporting rebels in the south (Viet Cong) and the Ho Chi Min Trail was established. By 1960 there was significant support for the communists in the south and Diem’s support was waning. During JFK’s presidency, US military advisors rose to 16,000 from under 1,000 and Diem was killed in a coup in 1963. The Viet Cong reportedly controlled much of the southern countryside. President Johnson, despite telling the media he would not commit American Boys to fight in place of Asians escalated the US involvement – 16,000 troops by 1964 and started bombing North Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.  In 1965, protests against the war escalated in the US – draft cards were burned. By 1967, there were 200,000 marines in Vietnam, all without declaring war to congress or communicating openly to the American public. The US was engaging both the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) and the Viet Cong in the south.

Our band of merry travelers next ventured to Halong Bay, a beautiful collection of islands and limestone karsts set in the South China Sea. The dramatic rock islands have been created from plate tectonics over time. The bay is home to monkeys, deep caves and wonderful, relaxing views. We stayed two nights on a cruise junk and kayaked among the caves and coves for views of monkeys and calm, clear lagoons.  Unfortunately, I have been unable to identify the species of the monkeys, but we encountered at least two troops along our explorations. This was definitely the relaxing portion of our Vietnam/Cambodia tour. There are floating villages in the coves and even small skiffs that will travel to the cruise boats to sales of local beer and snacks. The tourism fare in Halong Bay is definitely big business and quite well organized. We even had the opportunity to fish for squid of the back of our junk, but alas nothing was biting on my Huckleberry Finn cane pole.  Halong Bay is large and unfortunately it seemed as though the cruise stayed in the same general area of Halong, but the relaxation and views were quite worth the trip.

In 1968, the NVA launched the Tet Offensive that effectively changed the war. It was the final straw for the US public. The NVA broke the traditional Lunar New Year Truce and attacked 100 cities. Americans had been led to believe that victory was in sight, but the scale of the Tet attacks shocked the US and Johnson declined to run for re-election. Nixon was elected and began troop withdrawals. Incidents like the My Lai Massacre came to light, and public protests grew to a zenith at home. Nixon authorized Cambodia bombing along the border violating a neutrality agreement (although the Ho Chi Min trail went through Cambodia). The Pentagon Papers were published in 1971 revealing the government’s withholding of Vietnam War expansion from the US public. The National Guard killed 4 students at a Kent State protest. The Paris Peace accords were signed in 1973, Nixon resigned in 1974, and Saigon fell dramatically in April 1975.

When landed in Ho Chi Min City (HCMC/Saigon) we were greeted again by scooters and heat. An evening at the Hard Rock Café provided a nice western touch along with the best burger I have had in Asia (sorry Brooklyn Bar). A night that was reminiscent of home with MTV videos including (appropriately) a Bob Dylan clip. We ventured up the Mekong Delta on the first day with a tour guide stopping at a Cao Dai Temple along the way to see the combination of Buddha, Saint and Sage into a single religion. The trip up the river took us through floating markets and down the canals that the Viet Cong navigated for freedom. As we maneuvered through the canals my thoughts wandered to how it must have been for the US troops patrolling these overgrown, tropical waterways not knowing whether the person you saw was a civilian or a Viet Cong. The quiet and eeriness fueled my imagination. We stopped and visited a village on the shore where they made coconut candy, rice noodles and rice cakes. The families in the small shops were working hard to make their wares. We drank snake wine and tea. At one point I asked our guide if the Vietnamese liked Americans. She responded diplomatically – the war was her parents, now we are more interested in the business. Vietnam is definitely more in the modern China version of communism. The government is communist, but the business is business. even the locals call HCMC Saigon in normal conversation.

On the second day we paid a visit to the Cu Chi tunnels. The tunnels are north of what was Saigon and were a strategic advantage for the Viet Cong rebels. The reports are that there is 75 miles of multi-level tunnels that were dug over 30 years starting back in the rebellion against the French, and extend from the Saigon River to Cambodia. It is a popular tourist site for visitors to HCMC and for an American it gives a glimpse into the difficulty of the battles against the guerillas. Booby traps, captured American military equipment are all at the location along with a video of the revolution published by the north during the war. A couple of my companions shot AK-47’s for $1 and other assault weapons. Not my cup of tea, as I listened to them at the firing range I realized how lucky my life has been to not be directly touched by war. I managed to squirm my waist through the entrance of one of the tunnels and as the lid partially closed the emptiness of the darkness and closeness engulfed me invoking a strong sensation of terror. I could not even imagine being a tunnel rat charged with searching, not knowing if a knife or rifle waiting just ahead in the black depths.

The War Remnants Museum (formerly known as the American War Crimes Museum) was another sobering stop. A friend who was also in HCMC told me that when he had visited the previous day that there was an US Vet visiting that had broken down in tears. I can understand – the museum is a very stark look at the atrocities of the war. Displays on the impacts of Agent Orange, the defoliations caused by napalm, a reproduction of cages the held prisoners, a My Lai display, news reports from the world condemning US involvement (mostly communist bloc),  and even a guillotine used by the French and South Vietnamese.  It was a vivid reminder of the horrors of any war, and the impacts that it can have on the soldiers and even the citizens around the battlefield. The emotions it evoked in me reminded me directly of a visit to the Nazi Dachau prison camp in the mid 1980’s. It was painful to see the Vietnam War from the other perspective.

We waited for our flight home atop the Rex Hotel in their garden bar. It was there I was introduced to another new heat breaking drink, the Mojito – got to love lime drinks in the heat.  The location was also where during the war the US Military gave their updates to the media, and diplomats met to discuss events and plans. A torrential rain flowed around us, we had been lucky to avoid the downpours during our trip. I really enjoyed Vietnam: the people, the tropics, Halong Bay and the cities. It is a growing, busting economy with its citizens friendly, engaging, and enterprising. I do not feel that we did justice to the whole of the country; a return trip may be in order to see the sites outside of the two major cities. However, the nagging images of the war remain in my mind, and I am resolved to learn more. It was a war that changed two nations.  My heart reaches out for those that defend beliefs that are for the betterment of humanity for the costs are high.  I pray for those that put themselves in harms way for freedom. There are many reasons for conflict – some just and some unjust. Each of us decides for ourselves and determines what battles to wage. My soul aches for those that are victims of these battles. In a world today that has many conflicts I wonder if man will ever achieve harmony.

Vietnam Slideshow: http://wst2010.smugmug.com/Travel/Vietnam-October-2010/14226602_nQJ5h

Taiwan is southeast of mainland China and is the thirty-ninth largest island in the world at the modest size of a little less than 14,000 square miles. It is about the size of Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut combined. It is bigger than Vancouver Island and smaller than Tasmania. The island is about 70% mountain ranges on the eastern side and the rest is western plains. It is a tropical island on the edge of the ring of fire and agriculture is less than 5% of the GDP. There are banana, guava and tea plantations. Most of the natural mineral resources have been depleted due to intense mining before then end of WWII.  Air pollution is still a problem in Taipei, but it has improved drastically in recent years after the country established an Environmental Protection Agency. During our trip to Taiwan the skies were blue and the stars were out at night.

Taiwan has been governed by the Republic of China (ROC) since then end of WWII when it Formosa was taken back from Japan. When the communists won the civil war in China in 1949 and the mainland became the People’s Republic of China (PRC), Chiang Kai-Shek and the Kuomintang (KMT) aka, Nationalist Party, fled to Taiwan with the gold reserves and many treasures from the mainland. Over 2 million people relocated to the island when the China civil war was won by the communists. The island was governed by martial law until the late 1980’s by the Nationalists as they took over the government – even banning other political parties. When Kai-Shek’s son took power he began easing control and in 1986, a Democratic Progressive Party was created and martial law was removed.

The political situation is complex – here is a layman’s attempt to unravel it, hopefully this is mostly correct. When the Nationalists fled to Taiwan and took over the government it created resentment with the native islanders. The island prospered under the Nationalists growing into the world’s major consumer electronics provider. Through this time the civil war with the mainland continued mainly with bombing and blockades on the surrounding islands through the 1950’s. During the Korean War, Truman ordered the US navy into the Taiwan Strait to prevent a communist attack on the island. The ROC was a member of the United Nations from 1945-1971, and for two decades the ROC was the representative for all of China – a big factor behind this being the Cold War. In 1971 the UN gave the seat to the PRC and effectively kicked out the ROC. Many countries, including the US acknowledge that the ROC and PRC are one country. In diplomatic terms this is different than recognizing it. The US still sells arms to Taiwan which is a sticky point with the PRC.

Through all this time the PRC maintained  it is still sovereign over the island although the ‘One China Policy’ allows subtle differences. The PRC maintains that Taiwan is a province and Taiwan claims that it’s borders are the ROC and only alterable by its own national assembly. Politically, on Taiwan there are the islanders and the mainlanders. The islanders are the original pre-China civil war natives and my understanding is that they want to maintain independence. They are also perfectly OK with the mainlanders (Nationalists that escaped to Taiwan) going back to the PRC based on the control they manifested after their arrival. The mainlanders have a contingent that want to unite with the PRC, but have differences regarding communism. Confused? It is quite a maze, and this discussion hasn’t even touched the US position on selling military supplies to Taiwan or the US pro-China Nationalist Lobby during and post WWII. There are changes happening recently like direct flights from the mainland to Taipei, and China requiring Taiwan to compete as China Taipei in the 2008 Olympics.  Practically, there are many Taiwanese businesses that are based on the island, but have the majority of factories or manufacturing on the mainland. The island and the mainland are tied together inexorably on the economic front. Ok, my head hurts on this topic.

So what does any of this discussion have to do with crystallization of any thoughts I may have had before the visit you may ask? Well, nothing directly except that the history and foundation shows how the island of Formosa was able to transform into a consumer electronic tiger post WWII since the Nationalist government and western support pushed the capitalistic economy. Mainland China on the other hand retreated into a generation of isolationism under the leadership of the communists during the Cold War. The Japanese had implemented a huge base of military manufacturing infrastructure on the island during WWII and when it was taken over by the Nationalists they nationalized over 90% of these monopolies and the businessmen that came over from the mainland revived and expanded the economy with billions of aid from the West. The mainland on the other hand retreated from the world amid Cold War worries of Japanese recovery and the US while tightening economic and military ties with the Soviets. Economically and socially the PRC did not flourish until it opened its doors in the 1970’s.

And you can see the impact traveling 900 miles to the south from Dalian just as you can see it traveling 300 miles to the east to Seoul. Taipei is just as modern as Beijing and Shanghai. Only it is different as well. Taipei is not a city in the middle of major transformation; it is already matured to a level of international ease. Beijing and Shanghai are international meccas as well, but the subtleties of the society being at ease with this role emit a feeling of insecurity. The major changes that these cities underwent to host the 2008 Olympics and 2010 World Expo are examples of the need to alter them for the world stage. The removal of the poor areas in both cities, the closing or moving of factories, restricting driving are all examples of changes made for world events.  On a more subtle level you see it in the general population. In Taipei, there is general confidence in people walking in the streets, litter is not a major problem, crosswalks are used and traffic is organized and managed. One example that was amazing was the smoking situation in Taipei. Non-smoking is embraced in the city – it is banned in restaurants, public places – even the hotel we stayed in was 100% non-smoking. And this is in Asia where it seems that everyone smokes. There are outside smoking areas in discreet areas and they are used with the ashcans also the repository for the butts. It was startling. Of course there are also a plethora of fake eyelashes stands and women wearing glassless eyeglasses to show there is still are plenty of fashion slaves on the island as in the PRC.

Taipei was wonderful. It had the comfort of Seoul and much of the charm of Beijing. The 101 building dominates the skyline, but for some reason does not look like the tallest building in the world. Maybe it is because my reference point in the Empire State Building from when I was a teen. We supped on the 85^th floor western restaurant and gazed on the lights below. We also dined one evening at reportedly the best dumpling joint in the world according to a NY Times article in 2003 – DinTaiFung (www.dintaifung.com.tw) . Nothing I ate would detract from that information. From the outside, the place look small with the menu posted on the wall with easily a hundred flavors of Jiǎozi (pot stickers). Young ladies with headsets and wireless order pads took your order before you were whisked inside through the waiting mob of customers. It turns out to be a multi-floor place where you can enjoy your culinary feast with cold beer.  An after dinner stroll through the night market and Snake Street provided the local flavor. Snake Alley is famous for its venomous snakes including what was identified by sign as the world’s largest Burmese python in an aquarium. The deal is that couples venture down the street to obtain a drink of snake blood, venom or bile mixed with alcohol depending on who you ask. It is of course ‘good for men’ in the Viagra sense.

We ventured to the National Museum which is famous for containing the treasures taken from mainland China by the Nationalists when they escaped from the communists. The crowning jewel is the cabbage which was carved from a single piece of jadeite and using the natural colors created a beautiful piece the looks like bok choy with a locust and katydid hidden in the leaves.  Rumor is that once when it was loaned out for an exhibit one of the legs of an insect was broken off. I couldn’t tell. Fact is that it was originally owned by the Consort Chin of the Qing Dynasty. The other site we visited was the Kai-Shek memorial. It is a grand monument in a grand square. Feelings in Taiwan are mixed on the man and his effect on the country. In any case his statue is definitely one of a benevolent leader despite the fact that there are many that do not view him in this vein.

A trip down the East Coast to Hualien and Taroko National Park was the next day. Taroko NP has a spectacular gorge that is formed by the collision of the Oceanic and Eurasian plates. The peaks rise over 3000m and the basin in the Liwu River. We hiked a few trails in the park, but unfortunately were not able to get to the peak trail because of time – another trip perhaps.  Through the NP runs the central cross-island highway which was completed in 1960 after 4 years of work. Over 200 people died during the construction. The aboriginal Taroko culture still survive in the park. Luckily the old ritual of tattooing on a young man’s chin after their first head hunting experience was banned during the Japanese occupation.  The views in the park were beautiful and the trails were dotted with many photographers. It was my second Asia NP in two weeks and it reminded me of summer vacation at home. After the park we spend an evening at a farmhouse on Liyu Lake. Liyu translates to carp and a quick visit to the fishery identified that many of the fish I am seeing in China are mostly grass carp. Another mystery solved. Now, farmhouse is 100% analogous to lake cabins in the Midwest or East of the US circa 1970s. As we sat on the porch discussing life, retirement and Asia one item happened which has never occurred in my China experience. A gentleman came up from the main building (100 yards away) and asked us to please talk quieter. The fact that our normal talking voices would carry that far was a testimony to just how quiet it was around the lake. It was another reminder of vacation time at home. It was nice to be mildly scolded for noise.  A morning stroll and bike ride along the tranquil lake completed the experience.

The trip to Taipei and Taiwan for me was a crystallization of the point that the mainland is racing at breakneck speed to make up for the generation of isolation that it experienced. The economy is exploding with the funding of the PRC government, the citizens are flocking to the cities for the promise of richness, and the culture is pushing forward with a melding of the old and the new. These changes have already occurred in adjoining countries that bypassed the isolation phase. Trips to the ROC, Hong Kong and South Korea show a glimpse into how the mainland is transforming. The questions that remain are when and what variations will manifest themselves with the issues brought on by the size of the population and the growing disparity between the rural and the cities. China just announced a test into allowing more than one child per family which will potentially increase the population. Both Taiwan and South Korea have declining population growth rates. As China takes its position on the world stage it will continue to be interesting to see what happens as the next generation takes over.

Taiwan Slideshow: http://wst2010.smugmug.com/Travel/Gallery/13717415_r4QUc

The Bai Village was eye-opening. Their homes and buildings are stone covered with cement and painted white. On the homes there are beautifully landscape scenes painted in black. The local women dress in white pants and tops with colorful head ornaments.  As our tour guide described the village and their customs it was interesting.  He noted that China had over 56 Ethnic Groups and was proudly discussing their regions, custom and styles. In a country where there are government conflicts with the minority groups like Tibet and Urumqi, it was clear he was proud of the diversity in culture and able to share it with us.  The local people were very open and friendly. They let us in the courtyards of their homes and allowed pictures to be taken freely. It is the norm for 2-3 generations to live together in homes built around the courtyards. Livestock often also had one side of the square as a barn that also doubled as storage for firewood and food.  Each courtyard was also strikingly filled with wonderfully colored flowers or paintings. It was apparent that the families lived at what we consider a poverty level, but one family even offered to have us join them for lunch. Our tour guide offered two anecdotes: (1) when he was young (and he now only 28) that his family only ate meat once a month and now he can eat it every day and (2) each home will have television, internet, a cell phone and no car.  The other notable item in the village was that the construction boom for China did not escape the villages. It seemed that every other home was being rebuilt as we wandered the city. It appears that the domestic tourism focus discovered on my Datong trip a few months ago is widespread across China and not just in the cities.

As we left the village and start the English-free drive our guide informed us that he was now going to Lijiang and remain our guide. As I tried to understand this change in events my reasoning went to either my displeasure when informed of the change in tour guides, or some major resolution of our guide’s inability to perform the service in Lijiang solved itself.  In either case, I was glad to have him continue with us over the mountains.  As we climbed the Hengduan Mountains toward 8000ft and our new destination we learned that the 3 major industries in Yunnan are (1) agriculture, (2) tourism and (3) military. Almost on cue we were at a roadblock manned by soldiers in fatigues.  As we sat in our car not knowing what was going on the unmistakable sound of mortar fire went off close by – not once, but three times. Next there was the sound of what seemed like machinegun fire. Presently, the guards waved the line of cars through and as we peered   into the field. Sure enough – there were tanks and the Red Army. Nothing like a late morning drill in the mountains.

Climbing in the mountains the appearance of cattle, water buffalo and pigs began to dot the countryside along with the farming. Rice disappeared, corn intensified amid layered terracing on the mountainsides. The beauty of the area was breathtaking – much like the lush green mountains of Wyoming or Colorado before the craggy peaks of the Rockies take over.  Once we exited the mountains and approached the new city of Lijiang we stopped and out tour guide started to get out of the van. He explained that he could not cross into the city with us, but needed to take another bus. And that the drivers would need to stop and talk with the tourism officials before the hotel. He would then meet us at the hotel. And then he was gone and we were left with the two non-English speaking drivers.  My anxiety level started to rise rapidly not understanding this new level of intruige.

We drove through a toll checkpoint marking the entrance to Lijiang. A few hundred meters further we stopped at what looked like a tollbooth on the side of the road and the drivers talked with 3 men wearing armbands and holding red cards. They conversed for 5 minutes and then laughed. We drove on without a new passenger or a red card. The van then turned off the main road onto a side street. Armed with only the name of the hotel and cellphone, my mind searched endlessly for comprehension of the situation. Twisting and turning down small roads in a not too glamorous neighborhood we finally came to an area where the military was performing drills in an open area by a basketball court. My parents and I watched as the van came to a stop. The door slid open and we were greeted by three young men that did not speak English. Meanwhile the drivers had exited the car and were removing our bags from the car and giving custody of them to the new arrivals. My anxiety level peaked when suddenly from around the corner a police car emerged with its lights flashing.  Stressing, I remembered that our tour guide was going to rejoin us and I whipped out my cellphone. Dialing my heart sank with the recorded message of ‘the number you dialed is not available’.  I heard one of the new arrivals mention a different hotel than we were booked at to our drivers. The drivers started to leave us with these new strangers.  I panicked and called the tour guide company owner. He answered and I apprised him of the situation as I saw the concerned look on my mother’s face. I explained that I did not want the drivers leaving until I understood what was happening and our new guide was here.  I handed the phone to one of our drivers.  My heart fell back into my chest from my throat.

Order was soon restored. They had changed our guest house because of a conflict with a large group of patrons, and one of the new arrivals emerged with an English name and fledgling dialog. He guided us to our new residence down a maze of improving streets and had us check out the rooms. All was better. The guesthouse was run by a local family and was quite comfortable and charming. It was nestled in the center of ‘the Ancient city of Lijiang’. Thirty minutes later our old guide showed up at the hotel and explained the chaos. Oh, and the aforementioned police car just kept rolling down the street. All was now good.

Lijiang is a city a little higher up in the mountains at 7800 ft. It is primarily home to the Naxi Ethnic group. The Naxi originally migrated from Tibet and the women wear black turbans. According to our guide the society is matriarchal and they manage the children and the fields or ranching. The men are focused on education and enlightenment. Also with an unconfirmed tale the men can have two wives as long as they are sisters. Not exactly a modern setup, but the Mormons would understand. The ancient city where we stayed is filled with shops peddling local wares and food stands with yak, yak butter and black soy jelly.  It was filled with Chinese tourists from around the country and it reminded me of an Eastern Durango or Breckenridge.

The night we arrived was my parent’s official 50^th anniversary date. We celebrated with our guide and the Lijiang manager of the tour company. They had arranged a Tibetan dinner and a cake. It was really funny when you realize that the ages of our hosts barely covered the 50 years mom and dad have been married. Our hosts were amazed with such a long marriage and wanted tips on how to make it last so long. For desert they had arranged a heart shaped cake with candles. It was a nice gesture and it even tasted good. After dinner we attended a concert of traditional Naxi music called dongjing. The band was primarily old men with one player topping the list at 87. They played traditional Chinese instruments including the erhu, pipa, lutes, reed pipes and zithers. The music was good, but there was way too much talking by the hostess whonicely translated the song introductions into English. While she was speaking the band members seemed to nap for a few minutes between songs. At the end of the performance the sponsor of the music show came on stage in his workout suit and gave a little history which included his being in prison for 21 years after the revolution. After his release he came back to Lijiang to teach and established the music troupe.

We visited a Naxi village the next day. It was quite similar to the Bai Village from Dali. As our guide took us through the village we shopped among the local wares. We spotted some karma sutra tiles. It was explained to us that traditionally the families keep a box, like a hope chest for their children and fill it with clothes and other good as they grow up. The tiles will be on the bottom and when the children get married they are given the box as a gift. It seems like the Puritans may have made a trip to Asia somewhere in the past. This could explain part of the high abortion rate in China along with the one child policy. Except that Ethnics groups can have more than one child. As our guide showed us the villages of the Ethnic Group it seemed as though they were on show, a proud display of the diversity of the country. It was a very similar feel to visiting a reservation or pueblo at home.

Our final evening in Lijiang was spent at a dancing and music show of the local ethnic groups. The setting was across the street from a traditional statue of Mao holding out his hand. The local jokes are that he is either hailing a cab, or more appropriately encouraging visitors to go across the street and see the show. It was a hugely entertaining display of colorful clothing, dancing and creative choreography. The show centered around the regions traditions and is well worth a visit if you are ever in the neighborhood.

The next day we were off up the mountain roads again, this time to the Tibetan city of Shangri La. I am not sure if Hilton ever visited this city before writing Lost Horizon, but it was easily our favorite destination of the trip. It is a village by Chinese standards – 300K citizens and is at 12000 ft. The mountains around the city are spectacular – majestically rising up from the valley and topped with clouds and blue skies. We stayed in the old city at our first hostel and the Tibetan influence was charming and comfortable. We spent the days enjoying the city and the evening’s the food and local pubs.

On our final day as tourists in the mountains we visited the first National Park in China – Potatso. It is nestled in the mountains at 14000ft in the three parallel rivers region. The park was established in 2007 and the material indicated it is home to red pandas, black bears and other wild animals. We were only able to locate squirrels. The unnerving thing was that even here in the park birds were again few and far between. We spotted a family of ducks and some magpies, but none of the waterfowl you would expect at the location of two beautiful lakes, Bitahai and Shudu. The park itself was amazing, and we commented on how it reminded them of portions of Yellowstone Park. The lakes themselves were clean and clear, the park was clean and clear, and there were not really many visitors. As we walked the trails the solitude and beauty was overwhelming. It was the crowning moment of the trip and it felt so good to be away from the cities and the cars and the pollution. Other than last November’s trip to Mongolia this was the most comfortable I have been in China – it is a truism that I am a country-boy.

The anecdote from the lakes was that in Tibetan culture when one dies the body is disposed of in one of three ways. If the person dies from disease the body is burned. Otherwise the head monk determines how the body is returned to the earth; it is either fed to the birds or the fish. The body will be crushed (bones and all) too almost a powder, and be placed in the lake or a high sacred spot where it can be carried away to the sky. Tibetans do not eat fish or wild birds. The Han Chinese bury their dead. We queried into the difference in the Buddhism practiced by India (where Chinese Buddhism originated), Tibetan and Chinese, but could not get clear answers. Note to self – need to study and understand more about Buddhism.

As Mom, Dad, and I had a final Thai dinner at the Face bar in Beijing we talked about their trip and the adventure. It was great that they were able to see the normal scenic spots normally attributed to China and also the mountain regions of the south. We compared notes on how in many ways China is advanced in its education and growing in its economy and world stature. On the other side, it is still a place that is recovering from the generation of isolation that occurred after the revolution. Watching people get excited over the sight of cattle and horses in fields, the growth of domestic tourism in all the cities and heritage sites, the tremendous government fueled growth of the construction in the country, even the industrial pollution are all signs familiar to those that remember the US in the 1950’s and 1960’s. China is a country in transition and 20 years from now will not even be close to the same.

All that aside, the best portion of the trip was being able to share it with my parents during such a special time in their lives. Exploring a new area, working through the travel logistics in China, discussing observations and tasting new foods all are more fun when sharing them with those that you love. After a childhood of my parents showing myself and siblings how to explore the world on three week rambler  wagon and camper vacations across the USA, I had a chance to give back to them a little of the world that has been my playground for the last year. It was a vacation that I will cherish forever. As they departed the hotel for the Beijing airport I could feel the emptiness surround me as the comfort and completeness of family melted away knowing that it was still 4 months before my next trip home. It was the end of a grand adventure.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!

We spent a day and a half with a relaxing tour of Dalian which of course included the standard registration with the police of their stay in my apartment. We walked the beaches of Xinghai, enjoyed German food and Korean Barbeque, and drives up Bin hai Lu and a stroll through Labor Park. We did nothing too adventurous – a little respite between trips. We discussed their observations of China and the sights, talked of their amazement of the population and construction.  Mostly the conversations went back to how you can read or watch television programs of places like China, but until you experience it, it is hard to really understand.  In China it is about the scale and size that having 20 per cent of the world’s population brings.

As we boarded our flight in Dalian there were a few concerns on the table in my mind. The newest one  was the typhoon bearing down on Vietnam right across the border from Yunnan and the flooding that was already occurring all over China and recently into Yunnan. In fact, the Yangtze River that Mom and Dad just toured was running at near capacity – one could witness many interesting things floating by like shoes and even a cow was reported by a coworker that recently took the trip. My second worry was that this was the first time I had ever engaged a tour guide sight unseen. The company was from the internet and the negotiations/planning had all been done by email. A couple weeks previous we had agreed to the terms of the trip and I was requested to send 50% by wire to a personal bank card. Nervous, I stalled for three days before calling the company owner and getting more comfortable with the idea. We talked and negotiated and I ended up transferring only half of what was requested. The rest would come with me as a giant wad of cash to finalize the deal once we were at the first hotel. My logic was that there were two concern points: (1) if we landed and there was no one to great us or (2) the first morning after I had paid the balance. So off we went to the city of Kunming not knowing if we would be drowned or scammed.

The flight took off as scheduled which was a good sign regarding the weather. We were the only non-Chinese on the plane that had a scheduled stop halfway at a small city south of Shanghai. We made the scheduled stop on time, departed onto the runway and walked to the one terminal, one gate area. There was a small control tower that barely rose above the one story building. The weather was warm and  dry. Next to the terminal was a new airport being constructed to replace the existing small building – another sign on the growth in China. Re-boarding a few minutes later with some passengers departing, and no new ones arriving we set off for Kunming.

Landing in Kumning we picked up our bags and exited the controlled area. Scanning the crowds for a placard with our names we were a little disappointed to not see anyone to great us. I pulled out my cell to call the travel agency when a man in an Aussie vest came up and asked me if I was Mr. Templeton. I guess when you are the only westerner you are easy to spot. Our bags were quickly whisked away to a Toyota mini-van and off we went to our hotel. The first two hurdles were passed on the anxiety train since it wasn’t flooding and we had a travel guide!

Now the city of Kunming is yet another total construction project in China – a metro is being built and we were quickly informed that there are ‘no left turns’ in the city. It was a maze of blue metal walls blocking construction sites, buildings being renovated, more mopeds than I have ever seen, and a sea of cars all turning right three times to go left. Arriving at our hotel there was all kinds of distress in the communications between our tour guide and the hostess. Apparently the government had decided to turn off the power to the building that day – no lights, no hot water. Two strikes against staying there. After a few minutes of negotiation we piled back into the car and started making more right turns to go the three blocks to a sister hotel and checked in for the night. We paid the tour company owner  in full with our bootlegger stack of cash, made arrangement for a 9am departure to the Stone Forest and my parents and I were left to our own devices.

My mother wanted to experience the real China after their guided tours though the big cities of the north. My parents are adventurous – they have traveled extensively and are not shy when exploring. I guess it comes with the genes. Off we went into a long alley near the hotel filled with trucks and vendors with every vegetable imaginable. Yunnan is a major agricultural province with its mild weather and mountainous climate. We explored areas filled with mounds and mounds of chilis and peppers, a room piled to roof with garlic, and multiple other vegetables – most known to our eyes, but many alien. People were purchasing their selections in giant burlap sacks and loading 3-4 bags on their mopeds for delivery either to their homes or businesses. Next we wandered off down more streets trying to locate a large park around an area called Green Lake. As we explored the streets past the rows of motorcycle parts, small shops and darkened areas my mom started to get a feel for the disparity in wealth within China. We were definitely not finding Green Lake this night, but passing into one of the less affluent areas of Kunming.  It is quite sobering when you realize that many citizens live in their small shops. Eventually we gave up and went back for a night’s sleep before the road trip portion of the trip began.

The next morning we departed from our hotel rooms at the appointed time to begin our excursion to the Stone Forest – dubbed the #1 visited attraction of Yunnan according to our guide. Fifteen minutes past our agreed meeting time and there was no Toyota, no drivers and no guide. The anxiety level started to rise again as we realized this was our remaining concern point. Of course, this is China. As my mind started to conjure up all kinds of recovery plans to being stranded in a strange city in a foreign land I called our guide’s cell number. No answer – anxiety up another notch. Then magically 30 minutes after our planned time one of the drivers showed up, then the van and finally the other driver. Of course neither driver spoke English. We finally managed to reach our guide via cell phone and out of breath he communicated he was 10 minutes away. Thirty minutes later we were on our way through the construction to the Stone Forest.

The drive was enlightening.  Kumning is 6600ft and surrounded by hills and mountains. The countryside was terraced with vegetable crops in every imaginable location. Corn, tobacco and rice dominated the fields as we trekked toward the Stone Forest. The drivers used both a GPS and a map which was unique in my China excursions – normally directions are found using the social networking method, stop and ask directions. Along the way another anxiety point hit when I was presented with a form to sign and had to give my passport number. It was explained that this was a tourism form that would show that we rented the travel bus and would be needed by the authorities.  It was all in Chinese, so as I signed I wondered if I was affixing a signature to be an agreement of committing crimes against the state.

The Stone Forest is indeed a natural wonder. Limestone – the grey and black lined rocks rise out of the green forest as if trees reaching to the sun. The formations reminded me of Bryce Canyon without the crimson and orange hues. The paths wove through the formations creating beautiful natural wonders over a vast area. The formations are called karst in German terminology.  Our guide pointed out many imagination driven descriptions of the formations: elephant, cat and mouse, dragons, husband and wife to name a few. As all of these visions in China they must be inspired by evenings of libations and shadows. The Stone Forest is worth a visit, but the time cost is high due to construction and travel via Kunming. We left the site for the next leg which was our 5-6 hour journey to Dali up over the next mountain range.

The trip to Dali was indeed an exciting one. We had to pass back through Kunming to head northwest to the mountains and after 2 hours to make that portion of the journey the estimate of 5-6 hours seemed suspect.  As the night fell we were informed that the new road was closed for construction and we would need to traverse the old road over the mountains which might take a bit longer. This would prove to be very prophetic. The countryside continued to be filled with crops and fields. Every imaginable space, accessible or not, had terraces and vegetables. As in the north there were no John Deere tractors, no automation of any kind; just solitary workers minding the crops dotted with scarecrows capped with Chinese conical hats.

The rain began to fall in the darkness as we climbed the switchback rutted roads passing through tiny Bai Ethnic villages. The roads were just wide enough for two cars and as the ascent continued we began to catch up to the many trucks and large transport vehicles which were also diverted to the old mountain road. Deftly and dangerously our drivers, both named Mr. He since they were brothers, wove around the switchbacks passing the trucks in the rain and mud. It felt much like a James Bond chase scene as my hand had a death grip on the handhold. My parents in the back seat were silent with what I hoped was calm. Many times we joined other passenger vehicles passing the trucks together around the blind turns as the road became effectively one lane. Close your eyes and picture six or so mini-vans slipping past 8 or 9 construction trucks via switchbacks in the blackness of night while it is raining.  I kept watching for the moment when a vehicle would decide to come up the mountain against the flow and create disaster. When a car did approach magically our lane would open up and cars would momentarily merge together. The drive ranked in the top three stress filled mountain climbs in my life along  with a brake failure coming down the Bighorn mountains in 1998 and a trip up the German alps in a blizzard in 1986. Eventually we emerged safely and arrived in Dali after 8 hours, albeit with a few more grey hairs.

Dali is wonderful destination. The city is occupied by the Bai Ethnic group which not surprisingly like to wear white clothes with colorful adornments and their homes are also painted white.  The city is set at the base of Canshan Mountain along Erhai Lake. Our lodging was a charming Guest House (Jade Emu & Jade Roo) run by an Aussie named Dave. Our tour guide had an action packed day planned for us, but we decided to maximize a couple of activities instead – witnessing the Cormorant fishermen and exploring the 3 Pagodas and ChongSheng Temple. It was a wise choice.

The cormorant fishermen were a sight to witness. The fishermen row longboats onto Erhai Lake with the bows of the boats lined with the trained birds. Most of the birds are freely sitting without strings or any kind of holding device. They are trained from chicks to catch the fish and return them to the fisherman in exchange for smaller fish to eat. Our understanding is that they have rings around their throats to keep them from swallowing the fish, but there was no evidence of this. It also looked like the lake carp they pulled up from underwater would be too large to swallow in any case. The Cormorant would swim aside and behind the boat while the fisherman would slap the water with bamboo poles to signal the birds to dive. The cormorant would disappear under the surface and emerge sometimes with a fish in their beak. Often two birds had the same catch. The fisherman would then scoop the birds and fish with a large net. The birds would perch on the net rim with the fish hanging below. Eventually the catch would be removed from the cormorant and they were rewarded with a smaller fish. Our guide identified the catch as grass carp from the lake although one looked like a late trout. The cormorant were very tame and the fishing was quite an experience.

The rest of the day was spent visiting Chongshan Temple and three pagodas. The complex was expansive and impressive. The two smaller pagodas were both leaning from previous earthquakes in the area. History has it that the pagodas were the only buildings that stood after the earthquakes.  The temple complex had 20 buildings and it was filled with the usual suspects of Buddhas. As always the symmetry and symbolism in the temples was impressive. After over 1100 stairs to the back of the complex we were rewarding with a viewing tower that allowed a spectacular site of the grounds and Erhai Lake. Interestingly, the temple was not overrun with visitors. It was a functioning temple with very few patrons. The visitors were all tourists snapping pictures away at the Buddhas and no one kneeling to pray.

A visit to the local Bai Village for dinner and an evening thunderstorm rounded out our visit to Dali. The white clothes of the local women highlighted with rich colors on their headdresses were beautiful. The observation in villages that reconstruction was pervasive showed that the construction boom in China is not limited to the cities. The humbleness and welcoming feel of the people and their homes was very warming to the heart.

That evening we were notified by phone call that our guide would be changing when we left for Lijiang in the morning. This would entail driving with the brothers who did not speak English to our next destination. Anxiety started to rise in me as the company owner explained that out current guide was not licensed for Lijiang and we would have a new guide once we got to our new hotel. I was just a little concerned as we left Dali to climb the mountains to Lijiang at 7800 feet and the next day’s adventure.

Mei wenti?

Last Friday night was my second year attending the Dalian Beer Festival. It was the last weekend. In a rare show of self-control I had forgone the first weekend in favor of a geek-fest involving a rebuild of my Netbook with an SSD drive and new OS. This night a friend and I decided to meet a group of co-workers. Now the festival is kind like Oktoberfest I am told, only China-style. The festival takes over Xinghai Square for 11 days, starting on a Thursday and ending on a Monday for some unknown reason. Every night the square is packed with visitors who venture into the 10 beer tents or so with a single purpose – to consume beer. There is no pretense that it is about the food, or the music, or dancing being the draw. Those activities are all there, but this event is about drinking quantities of libations. My friend and Blogger terryb educated me that studies have shown that Asians have a very high genetic tolerance for alcohol. It really shows during the festival, there are hundreds and hundreds of locals brandishing the red Asian glow in their cheeks, but they are all for the most part extremely good-natured drinkers: toasting, laughing and having a grand time. My experience at the festival has never had an unpleasant encounter. One of the biggest drawbacks are the restrooms, located by following the balloons hanging overhead with the universal “WC” sign and the smell of constant use. It is not recommended to wear sandals to this event. But I digress.

Entering the festival this year the sensation of a carnival assaulted the senses with the numerous masks and devil horns ordaining the patrons. Fittingly, we located our friends in a German tent. Not wanting to be rude we decided to have a beer. On stage was traditional German music – a six member dance troupe dressed in risqué cat suites performing to Lady Gaga. Hoisting our beers in a toast it felt just like Munich in the summer. One of the benefits of being a foreigner with a camera in China is that the security force kind of ignores you and you get to play paparazzi. The benefit of having a couple beers is that you want to play paparazzi. A few snapshots of the ladies through the machine fog and my thoughts turned to dinner.

Last year during the festival you may recall that scorpion was on the menu. Of course a repeat was in order, but this time the plan was to include a few friends. Off I went through venders in search of the insect section. Sure enough, among the tarantulas, crickets, cicadas, and nasty centipedes were the scorpions. Selecting half a dozen specimens (ensuring they had 2 pinchers each), your man deep-fried them for me, sprinkled a little spice on them and off I went back to the group with a snack.  Curiosity, cringes, laughter and cheers sprang through the crowd as the crazy foreigners (and some brave locals) partook in the delicacy. I must say that deep-fried scorpions rank higher on my hit parade than silkworms. It is like eating a cruchy shell with a little pizazz. As always in China, there came a twist. The table next to ours witnessed our bravery, and in a great show of generosity called me over to share a centipede from that they had in their basket. Now, you have to understand that centipedes and tarantulas are two insects that have been sworn to never enter my digestive tract. However, this was a situation that required international diplomacy and delicacy. In the name of US-Sino relations my teeth quickly sunk into the bug of my nightmares – the legs and innards slipped into my mouth, every bit as disgusting as you would imagine. Smiling, I handed the remaining half to my friend and let him know it was wonderful. Thanking the kind stranger we toasted each other and took photos. Take that Bear Grylls.

Saturday morning arrived with a planned trip to the previously verboten (to foreigners) city of Lushun. It is located an hour south of Dalian and is home to a Chinese Naval Port that is reportedly a nuclear submarine base. The city was formally known as Port Arthur and was occupied by the Russians as recently as 1955. Manchuria (Northeast China) was occupied by both the Russians and Japanese through the end of WWII. The Russians extended control and occupation with the building of the China Eastern Railway. The Japanese took control in the wake of the Russian Revolution. In 1902, the Russians built a prison in Lushun at the turn of the 19 century for political prisoners and after the Japanese took control in 1907 they expanded the site. Completed it housed 15 factories for hard labor, and had a torture room in addition to a hanging room. The prison was liberated post WWII.

The Lushun Prison was one of our destinations. The other site we wanted to visit was the coastal point where the Yellow and Bohai Seas meet in order to verify the claim that one can see the difference in the water color. I was on the skeptic side despite the photograph on the Internet that drew in tourists. After collecting my travel companion we set off south down the aptly named Lushun Road. The route is interesting in that it passes through the Dalian Hi-Tec Zone and Software Park. This is the area that is home to Microsoft and Neusoft. Neusoft is the largest provider of IT solutions and services in China according to their marketing material, but the name doesn’t ring a bell with any software I know of. They do employ over 15K software professionals and live in a giant castle looking office on a big hill. The road leading through the area also passes by the imagination center where the buildings are decorated with numerous cartoon characters that look a little spooky. One night I will need to take the 202 trolley to see what the caricatures look like at night.

We arrived at the lighthouse entrance on the hill after weaving our way through a small fishing village. We passed houses intermixed with cornfields. The homes were not the high rise apartments of the city, but rather small single family homes and some shacks. Clothes hung in the humid air for drying and trash was scattered alongside the vegetable gardens and discarded building materials. My thoughts went to the disparity of wealth in China. While the economy is booming there is what appears to be a widening gap of whom the growth is benefiting. It is a large concern for the government and rightfully so.  Once we reached the gate and paid our 15 kuai we hiked up the last ascent of the mountain to the viewing location. It was a great day for seeing the brown arm of the Bohai reach into the blue of the Yellow Sea. There was a slight breeze to show the ripple on the water and the sky was clear. Witnessing the two seas combine I was forced to admit that yes, one can see the different bodies of water collide. Fortunately there was not any oil from the recent refinery explosion in Dalian spoiling the coastline this far south. We noted that there were fisherman below on jutting rocks along the shoreline and what seemed to be a trail leading to a great photo opportunity. So, we wandered on through the trees. After a little bit there was a sliding gate into an enclosed area. Since there was no other option we went on in and found a flock of roosters in our path. Apparently, this was a pen for fowl – chickens, ducks, peacocks and a random rabbit. There was also what appeared to be a genetic mutation of a turkey – it was that ugly. After taking a few snapshots that were deleted immediately, we exited through another sliding gate. The path then took us back to the road where we started. Confused as to why we could not find the path down the embankment, we called my driver to drive to the fishing village and find an alternate route.

Reaching the bottom we watched the fishing fleet – all adorned with the Red and Star China flag. It must have been shift change as one fleet powered in from the sea and another set motored on out creating a vision of the naval base a little to a north with the red and yellow flying high and proud. We scoured the shoreline but found no path along the shoreline. Some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved. Off to the next destination.

Next stop was the Japan-Russia Prison in Lushun.  The visit to the prison was sobering and eye opening. The placard in the first room pointed out to us that ‘it is a fascist prison. Its history is a microcosm of modern imperialistic aggression to China’. Given the history of the Japanese and Russian occupation and the amount of Chinese interned, forced into labor, tortured and killed in the prison I cannot disagree with the anger at the site. The site was not as eye-opening as Dachau or other WWII concentration camps, but it is a cruel reminder of the atrocities that happened outside of Europe. If you look into the Manchurian and Siberian history with Stalin and Mao there were large rivers of blood flowing in the first half of the 20^th century in this part of the world.  Peeling paint hung from the walls and peering into the cells the dust was a testimony to how long the prison was kept in its original condition. One could feel the tingling of pain and fear as your footsteps echoed in the corridors.  During our wanders a group of what appeared to be naval cadets walked quickly through the prison, only stopping shortly to see the cells or gaze at the pretty attendants which read books at their posts. It must have been a mandatory tour for the cadets – there was no interest or curiosity in their eyes.  I made a note to myself to drop an email to the International Branch of TAPS (The Atlantic Paranormal Society) to bring their band of ex-plumbers out to investigate the site for the Discovery Channel.

That evening dinner was another culinary and conversational delight at my friend’s the Wang’s place. Dishes included homemade sausage, duck tongues, hot and spicy Chengdu rabbit, and baked fish. As always the plum wine flowed freely and the conversation ranged from educating me on the fact the ‘yes – ducks have tongues’ to the oil spill from a couple weeks ago. After dinner was a second weekend visit back to the Beer Festival sans the scorpion and centipedes.  As we sipped our liter beers in the Oktoberfest Tent the camaraderie of the inebriated masses was overwhelming. As the most obvious looking foreigners in the tent we were the objects of many toasts and had our pictures taken with many strangers. I have often wondered what happens to those pictures. Are the printed and pasted into a photo album along with the animals from the local Dalian Zoo? Or maybe hung on the family room wall along the snapshots of the family pets?

The final night of the weekend was a trip to the suburbs of Dalian for a classical concern. There are periodic music events in KFQ that are a nice foray for escaping the techo and Chinese pop music that is so popular here. This was a 3 woman performance featuring a bass, violin and piano. They were from the Netherlands and played both historical and modern pieces. This was my first exposure to modern classical and while interesting, those tunes did bend my ears a bit. The interesting item on this show was that from the time the warning gong sounded for the start of the show through the lights up at the end, there was no introduction of the band, no talking about the performance, no announcement of any kind. Not in Chinese, and not in English. The silence was a little unnerving for one used to hearing some kind of words during a performance. The players just came in, played, received their flowers from the young maidens in thanks, and left.

So that was the weekend. Next weekend will be a judging at a Spelling Bee which I am sure will be memorable.  It was an atypical weekend since the Beer Festival only arrives for 11 days a year, but the opportunities to see and photograph the sites are a common activity. Some items are very similar to home with just a little twist. The quirks often add a small element of interest to the event, and once it is accepted as just different it can settle into the mind as a-ok. Different isn’t necessarily bad – it is just different.

Méi wèntí

http://wst2010.smugmug.com/photos/swfpopup.mg?AlbumID=13266917&AlbumKey=j7tNT

The other day I had the privilege of fishing with my father and grandfather. Three generations in a boat all partaking in one of our favorite activities. On this day my dad caught 1 walleye, my grandfather 3 and I landed one.   My grandfather is 91 years old and each summer for the past 4 years we have been able to fish together up at our cabin in northern Minnesota.  He is a man of few words, and often we spend a couple hours on the lake hardly talking at all. Conversations about fishing and the nature we witness are common. Occasionally we will talk about his life in Florida or my life in NM. Whether there are any words exchanged or not, the  bond of fishing holds us together and I like to think that he enjoys the time together as much as I do. Walleye fishing has been an activity we have shared since I was a child.

He used to travel from his home in Indiana most years to go angling at Big Cormorant Lake in  Minnesota. A few times our family went along. We would go out in the yard the night before we left and dig up night crawlers from the front lawn with flashlights in anticipation of the trip. The lake was a big walleye lake with pike and muskellunge lurking in the weed beds and tree brambles from storms gone past.  There was also bass, crappie and assorted pan fish. We would pile two adults and 3-4  kids into 14’ aluminum boats with a 9 horsepower engine and out into the lake we would venture. It was on these trips where my siblings and cousins learned to tie our own hooks and rigs by the campfire while the adults instructed us and talked about grownup things. Once, my younger brother caught a 7lb walleye the was just about as long as he was tall – his photo graced the calendar for the fishing resort the following year. It was also on one of these trips where my grandfather and  dad taught me to feel the bounce of the weight on the bottom and the sensation of gently tugging the lure through the weeds where the walleye like to lurk. I can still remember sitting in the bow of the boat visualizing my line and minnow journeying through the brush and plant life under the surface with fish swimming nearby tempted  by the morsel on the hook. When the gentle tap and tug of the line signaled dinner time, I would eagerly try and set the hook. Sometimes it succeeded and most times it failed. Patience is a virtue that rewards fisherman, but an attribute not always present in the young. 

The earliest fishing recollections  I have are with my dad and his father. After driving down a river (Schuylkill?) outside Philly, my dad had to run back to the car. I am sure for something I forgot. In his absence I continued to fish and somehow managed to get something on my line. After reeling it in I realized that it was an eel. Long and snake looking, I was afraid to touch it. Because of course, it was an electric eel in my young mind. After what seemed to be an eternity my father returned, and managed to remove the hook – without getting electrocuted! I was impressed with his superhuman abilities. Other times, my father, his dad and I ventured out deep sea fishing off of the Virginia coast. We filled coolers with fish, but my favorite was the flying fish which when we caught had fins big enough to be wings. I wasn’t ever able to witness one soaring through the sky although I searched and searched above from the deck. All I know was when we went on these trips I felt like an adult, out catching dinner when we brought home fish. Maybe it was the electric eel and the flying fish that captured my imagination forever.

There are really many stages and kinds of fishing. There is river fishing, lake fishing, ocean fishing, fly fishing, bait fishing, and lure fishing to name a few. They are all different with their own skills and nuances. Fly fishing is heavy on technique and quite graceful. Watching a good fly fisherman cast is like seeing a conductor guide a symphony – melodic movements and a rhythmic flow to the motion. This is one skill  that I have never been able to master  even after multiple attempts in Washington, Colorado and New Mexico. A good friend once made me a custom fly rod and during its life it never saw a fish on  business end. It has witnessed multiple fish being pulled in all around me even when courting the same exact fly at the end. It has even seen trout rise up and mouth the fly, but never has a tasty meal been reeled in. Someday my fly rod will re-emerge from the dark closet it hides in for another attempt – I think it would be a wild ride catching bass on fly gear.

 There is fishing – the process of casting a line with either live or artificial bait into a body of water on the end of a string hoping to attract a fish to eat. This is either an extremely frustrating process,  a relaxing activity depending on your temperament and mood. Thinking about lake fishing where there are millions of gallons of water underneath acres of surface area, it seems rather improbable that one of the thousands of fish might select your single hook and bait for its next meal. And yet it draws you  back again and again to try the odds.  Kind of like the lottery to when your chances are better at getting struck by lightning multiple times than winning the lotto.  When you are selected the excitement and adrenaline rush fills that primitive hunter spirit inside and raises your hopes for the next two hours of inactivity. The ‘strike’, when your quarry attacks, is the moment that keeps you coming back for more.  

One of the best days of my life involved fishing. My son Travis, who had just celebrated his 13^th birthday, and I were in Ketchican,  Alaska fishing for salmon. On that day we landed matching 25lb King Salmon. After about 30 minutes Travis told me he was tired of reeling and could I take over. Laughing, I declined knowing that this day may never come again and  this might be the largest fish he would catch in his life. The satisfaction and happiness on his exhausted face when the mission was accomplished is etched in my memory forever. Later that day we ate crab and watched his Colorado Avalanche win the Stanley Cup. A day where  everything fell into place and the world was in harmony. We ate salmon in New Mexico for the next year.

Another stage of fishing is the most common and the one that separates real fishermen from the rest of the population. It is the patience phase, where you can spend hours waiting for the random selection to take place and it just isn’t your day or time. Fishermen deal with this in many ways:  some talk about life and sports ,some sit and think, some scan the shoreline for photographic opportunities (my favorite), some drink beer (most common in Midwest ice houses), some continually move locations to find a better spot and some just give up. This is probably where ‘fish tales’ really take hold – significant stretches of time for your imagination to run wild and concoct great stories to accompany those moments where a weed pulls at your offering and triggers the endorphin response. Hope springs eternal nothing like a gentle tug on the end of the line after two hours of unbearable boredom spent waiting. Those skills of visualization developed as a young angler are redirected into verbalized dream sequences.

Alexis, my daughter caught a 6 inch perch last night on a 1 inch minnow during the waning light back in Shimmerhorn Bay at White Earth Lake. No fish story there, but the fish she caught had teeth rake marks across its entire body when she inspected it before release. Since only walleye and northern pike have teeth in this lake, the only logical conclusion is that during her capture of the fish it was simultaneously being eaten by something much bigger. Probably a 6 to 10 lb walleye. She could feel the perch pull from the bigger walleye’s mouth as she set the hook. A trophy fish that will be around next year a couple pounds bigger when we return. And by then we will be able to remember that we saw the monster fish race from the murky depths to the  surface and bite into the perch at the last moment. A beautiful rainbow highlighted the thunderstorm that restricted her ability to wait that second or two for the walleye to clamp down for good. All while she was texting with a heartbroken friend at the same time – she was an angel of mercy.

Usually the waiting stage is maddening if you confuse it with the stage most fishermen prefer –  which is called catching. Catching can be extremely fun –  your time is spent with fish on the line and then either keeping them for dinner or feeling godlike by releasing them back into the water for another day.  Interesting things happen during the catching phase of angling. After many hours or days waiting for the ‘bite’  to happen, you start to get selective. Either the fish is too small (wait for it to get bigger), or too large (it is spawning size), or it isn’t the right kind. At our lake we fish for walleye. If we catch larger northern, or bass (smallmouth or largemouth) they often get released back into the lake. It is quite comical when you think about it. Pike and bass are arguably much more fun to catch since they are stronger per pound and fighters, but they are harder to clean and in our opinion don’t taste as good. This stage is how we hook our children on fishing. When they are young we take them worm fishing for panfish, the small easy to catch prey that we use to train our kids on fishing since they lack that patience skill. They are disillusioned at a young age that fishing is all about catching. Kind of like the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus in the teachings of our youth. When they get older they have already been hooked – line and sinker.

Gazing out over the lake one more time as this trip ends, the moonlight is reflecting across the tranquil surface. The water bugs are bouncing across the blue plane. Occasionally, the song of the loon calls out in the distance. It is very calming – stress free and therapeutic. Thinking back over the week,  images of my grandfather confidently setting the hook after a light tap and reeling in a walleye dance though my mind. Flashes of my father steering the trolling motor on the boat while patiently watching his line pass by. The sound of laughter with my kids and Jae as we enjoyed some ‘catching’ time, and wonder of watching eagles and loons on the lake race cross my vision. The comfort of silent communication with everyone on the boat; the togetherness of friends and family enjoying a common enjoyment bring rise to  a sense of contentment. Fishing returned to my life again this year. I will leave knowing that there is another monster fish out there to hope for next time, and that this was a time that the real catch – the bonding of family, didn’t get away. Pulling my gaze away from the location of so many great times I am thankful. It is so cool to be out fished by my 91 year old grandfather.

Reflecting back on the first year it is amazing the transformation that my psyche has gone through. And the experts warn you about this process before you arrive. Initially, you start with what is called the honeymoon phase – where everything is new and exciting. Your senses are bombarded with things that are different from your normal life and mentally you pick out all the positives and center on the novel and good. You are making new friends and acquaintances, strengthening bonds at work and learning to live in the new environment. Then you move to the depression stage, where you realize that it is for real and not just an extended business trip. The apartment is not a hotel room. In many ways the apartment is better since there are familiar items brought with you from you home. It can also be a curse in that the endless emptiness can be overwhelming. A constant reminder of the loneliness that can engulf you as you adjust to the alien existence. I have been told that the #1 cause of death for expats is alcohol – understandable since at times it seems that the watering hole is the only activity option. The final stage is acceptance – once your mind and emotion come to grips with the reality. It is this stage where I am convinced that each individual finds their anchors that allow you to attach the new world with the life of comfortableness that is awaiting you back at your home. My anchors are Starbucks and NPR. The rate each person progresses and copes with these phases vary by individual. There are people I work with that love living in China and some that cannot wait to get home.

We just crossed into Romero, Texas. A small border town notable by nothing other than the speed it passes by and the pickup trucks lining up at the local fast food shops on the main drag. This trip will highlight one of the main differences between the US and China. That is simply the volume of people and the density of the population. As Alexis guides us though the ranchlands that are empty of towns and habitation, the landscape is broken by the occasional herd of cattle or wind vane to draw the water from the well. Small towns cluster along the railroad at co-op locations for those that manage these vast expanses of acreage . My life in China is biased I will admit. Dalian is a city of over 7million people, one of many high population cities in China that you have never heard of across the Pacific. There are vast stretches of farming in the rural areas and in the southern portion of the country, but my exposure is limited. Since I cannot drive on my own, and the car company that provides my transportation is limited to the Liaoning province the ability to explore is limited to peripheral vision via train or flights to new locations. My driver and I have made a few excursion north into Liaoning where we have passed though kilometers of farmland and small town. The farmland is similar to the corn belt of the Midwest with two big exceptions. Only occasionally do you witness the mechanized farming familiar to the US. Planting, plowing and harvesting are primarily done by hand. You are just as likely to see the beast of burden for the plows to be a human as a mule or other animal. It is an in your face reminder that labor is cheap in China and this is a critical factor in how things get done. The second difference is the co-op. In the Midwest the farms are organized into co-operative sales and distribution centers. My observation in China is that farms are single entities selling either directly to the public or the government.

In the city, the population density is an inescapable fact. Personal space is affected at every level of your existence. As someone that has not lived in a city larger than 1million in his life, this has been a dramatic change. Even when living in the Pacific Northwest we chose to live in the suburbs to avoid the big city. Traffic, apartment living, grocery stores, walking, eating, elevators – it is impossible to remove yourself from the population. The one truism that has become clear to explain the feeling is the rule that ‘nature abhors a vacuum’, or more simply that whatever/whoever gets there first wins. This guides the traffic rules, the queuing rules and personal space. The driving guidelines of right of way are out window – the real rule is whichever vehicle gets there first wins. There is also the size factor for ties: heavy machinery trucks, buses, taxis, normal drivers and then pedestrians.

The sage is starting to be spotted with cornfields and slightly rolling hills as we approach Dalhart, Texas. A crop duster is flying low over the fields – buzzing the plants as a cattle yard approaches. The world’s largest user of water – cattle ranching. The smell is familiar to me from my teen years living in Oklahoma, not necessarily a pleasant odor, but one that isn’t repugnant after years of exposure. Hundreds of Herefords waiting their turn to become a steak or a McDonald’s burger. A roadside image depicting a farmer kneeing beside his tractor before a cross reminds me that we have also entered the bible belt. The smell of the cattle is a reminder of another factor of the population in China, the pollution. Multiple blog entries of mine have touched on this topic, and it is another factor that has required adjustment. Dalian is in much better shape than many areas of the country. China is the fastest growing coal user in the world and the skies are living proof. Beijing and Shenyang are two infamous cities of the northeast that have major pollution problems. Dalian as a coastal city has blue skies many days, but the sunsets are punctuated by glowing orange sun that is not a reflection of the moisture in the sky. The population also creates a major litter problem that is punctuated by an army of ‘sweepers’ that are constantly cleaning. Another evidence of peoplepower as a solution. Recently though, I have seen signs requesting people to use trashcans which is a good start. Every time I see someone through trash on the ground or out of a car window it sends a twinge through my body.

Leaving Dalhart, Texas we are on SR385 heading north toward Boise City, Oklahoma and SR56. The sage is all gone and we are surrounded by the grasslands of the cattle ranches with an occasional cornfield. The skies are starting to dot with the clouds building up from the heat in anticipation of the potential afternoon rain. The horizon is flat, a farmhouse in the distance or a telephone pole or cattle the only items breaking the view into emptiness. It is quiet outside with the sound of the cars and trucks breaking the silence. This is the other by-product of the population in China that is difficult to cope with – the noise. The amount of construction China is undergoing is mind boggling, apartments marked for destruction, new ones rising in their place, new shopping malls, subways, cities being constructed for the future, train lines. Everywhere there are armies of people working construction in one way or another. Earth pounding machines and construction trucks all running 24 hours a day. And this is in addition to just the normal din of 7 million people living daily life. It can be exhausting.

Those three items are the 3 biggest adjustments that living in China has required. Of course, these could be true of moving to any major city in the world. The difference here is that I moved without my support structure and family. That is the single most difficult part of living in China. No matter how many Skype calls or emails, it is not the same as having daily interaction and support with those that you love. The friendships that are made are great when everyone is transplanted to a project like this, in fact I still have friends from a project similar in situation to this in Seattle, Wa after 15 years.

We just left York, Nb. The corn seems bigger here in Nebraska like their football players. The skies are filling with more clouds as they make their daily journey to likely evening thunderstorms. The weather calls for potential severe storms close to the lakes this evening. Maybe we will become storm chasers for the photo op. The sign on the side of the road calls for ‘Saving the Human Babies’ – anti-abortion sentiment is very strong in this part of America. I imagine the Tea Party is very popular here. The recessions is hitting this part of the country hard. We passed a BP Gas station and it was apparent from the cars that there is no boycott happening here. I guess the spill they are trying to cap is Obama’s fault.

Traveling in Asia is a wonderful opportunity. So far in the last year there have been travels to Mongolia, Russia, Hong Kong, Macau and Korea along with many explorations within the mainland. Temples and Buddha sites along with mountains and cities to explore. The experiences encountered on the trips are always interesting – these activities have kept the interest in Asia high. My plan was to explore every third weekend and with the support of travelling friends so far this has held true. The next year holds plans for southern China with my gypsy parents, a motorcycle ride into Vietnam, a trip to the western areas near Kashkar and the climatic Tibet journey. This has been the upside of the assignment, fulfilling a lifelong desire to explore and photograph Asia. The other benefits have been the friendships that have developed and the opportunity to live in a completely different culture. China has an obvious differentiator in the language. Learning Mandarin is one of the hardest things I have every tried to learn, and mostly it has failed. This has limited by ability to immerse in the community, but you get by. I have high respect for my colleagues that have learned to converse with native speakers. Each experience is novel, and if you look closely there are many similarities between the cultures despite obvious differences. Different is not bad – it is just not the same. I have learned a lot about my acceptance and tolerance levels, as well as the history of Asia and China since the exploration awakened an awareness of a lack of knowledge of the area.

Traveling by car is an exercise in freedom in the US. This is a factor to why we are taking the time to drive from NM to MN the last couple of days instead of flying. The road offers opportunities to deviate from the plan and explore – a side trip to see the largest plastic cow (Nb), the biggest well (Ks), Cadillac’s buried in the sand (Tx), or the largest walleye (Mn). This route offers a path through the mainstream of America, where the family is king. Weekends are spent supporting little league and softball, where whole communities band together to support local sport tournaments or barn raising. The red path of the USA where conservatism rules and the church pews are never empty on Sunday. A strong tie back to our Puritan roots. The values of the country are deep, strong and worn on the sleeve here. Whether you agree with all the messages on what we call Main Street, the beauty of America is that you are free to have your views and express them. Of course, this is only relevant if you have something to say.

As we approach the Dakotas to spend a few days with my family my heart fills with happiness and smiles. The chances have been lacking during the first year of expat living. My heart is also glad that there has been the opportunity to expand my myopic experiences of life and gain awareness of different cultures. Living in a culture such as China as it evolves and grows at such an astounding rate after a generation of isolation is eye-opening, both good and bad. Living in a communist country moving to controlled capitalism for an economy is enlightening. Experiencing the controlled access to information and systems based on government decisions is a strong reminder of the political difference. Viewing my own land from across the pond also gives a new perspective as the world  colors how  it is seen. Sometime good, sometimes bad. Always interesting and worth a thought.

I wonder if it will thunderstorm tonight.

Meiwenti.

Free Hug

If you go 300 miles by air from Dalian west you hit Beijing, if you head east you land in Seoul. It is the same relative geographic distance, but the cities are worlds apart.  Beijing has the Peking Man fossils from 240,000 years ago and Seoul has roots back to the Paleolithic Age (3000-7000 years ago). The Japanese occupied Seoul from 1910-1945 and Beijing from 1937-45.  After WWII, Beijing became the China capital under Mao Zedong, Seoul was in the throes of the Korean War and the city traded occupations between the North and South 4 times. In the 1960’s and 70’s Beijing was closed off, going through the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution; Seoul was going through a huge reconstruction and modernization effort.  Seoul hosted the Summer Olympics in 1988, Beijing in 2008. Today, Beijing has a population of 22 million, Seoul has 10 million. Seoul ranks around 20th in the GDP/per capita of world cities, Beijing is closer to 40^th. Beijing is a Western influenced city in a communist country, Seoul is a Western city in an Eastern capitalistic country.        

Almost as soon as you land in Incheon airport you start to see the differences 300 miles can make. The stores and restaurants have a familiar feel for anyone from the US or Europe: brands, logos and smells, not just the marque – the normal. As in Beijing the population in the airport is cosmopolitan and diversified, but there is a subtle feel that is different. Maybe it is that there are less people in ICN, or maybe that English is more prevelant, or even that the air quality is better in Seoul. The difference is subtle, and my perception there was an overall comfort with the diversity of the population that gave me a sensation of belonging. The mixture of the travelers was more balanced internationally and thus generated a sensation of familiarity. This sensation would last through the weekend travels.         

I have touched on this theme before in my blogs, but let indulge a moment to elaborate. China has approaching 1.5 billion people of which 91% are Han, very few of the remaining 9% are of Western descent and there are no statistics on expats in China that I can locate.  According to the Chinese tourism office 2009 has 22 million visitors from abroad – about 1.5% of the population. Even with generous math, that means that only 1 out of 10 people you encounter in China are not from the same genetic makeup.  If you take into account that very few of the 8.5% of the native population are of western descent (and most of those are clustered into economic centers), encounters with Westerners are still anomalies in many communities. Initially on moving to Dalian it definitely felt like being in a fishbowl. Open stares, curious inquiries into your shopping cart, random people wanting to take pictures of you and once in a while a brave soul practicing their English in a short conversation. My favorite is that when you go anywhere with someone that looks Chinese, you become invisible to the waiter or store clerk – a consequence of communication efficiency I suppose.  Then, as my presence became more commonplace in the neighborhood, the novelty fades. On many levels it is an enlightening experience, a small exposure to the feeling of being a minority. Depending on where you travel in China your celebrity experience changes based on the frequency foreigners visit the location. Sometimes you are Paris Hilton and sometimes you are non-existent. One takes it all with a smile and laugh, just part of the cultural experience.              

Even so, there was a touch of celebrity in Seoul. Twice in one day I was interviewed on the streets by small bands of middle school students for a homework assignment. Why was I in Korea? How long had I been there? Did I like it? Where was I from? When they heard I was living in China, but from the US that generated a few surprises. Both interviews ended with a photo. The most interesting encounter was while walking through an art district near the Gyeongbonk Palace. Down an alleyway we spied a small band of university students drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. One young lady stood to the side with a sound boom, tripod and video cam, and adorned with microphone and a headset. Curious, we watched to see what they were filming. Moments later they called us over and the next thing we knew we were engaged in a match of hopscotch while the director filmed away. We learned a couple things during that encounter: (1) the rules of a game I hadn’t played in 40 years, (2) youth and flexibility triumphs and (3) they were filming for a course in urban design or something like that. It was quite fun, and events like this are what keeps exploring Asia enjoyable. One more thing – I learned that jumping is not in my skillset. No wonder that NBA career never took off.      

Culturally, Seoul did not have the history one would experience in Beijing. We visited the Gyeongbonk Palace on the first day. It was first built in 1394 during the Joseon Dynasty and heavily destroyed by the Japanese in the early 20th century. Having been rebuilt, the sense of history was not predominate and unfortunately the security guards kicked us out before the sunset lit up the Pagoda on the lake which was our photo goal for the visit. After seeing so many palace and temples in China we decided to forego the other two on the tourism list and randomly explore Seoul for photo ops. We spend the weekend maneuvering through the depths of the city on the metro and walking the hilly streets in the 80 degree, 80% humidity      

 The tag line for Seoul, ‘the Soul of Seoul’ got me thinking during our exploration of how to capture and experience the city. Every time the Metro roared into the station with a rumble and wind whistle, my mind went to Don Cornileus on Saturday mornings and the hippest trip in America. A fun parallel that brought a smile to my heart each time it came to mind – “Here comes the Souuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuul Train”.  The metro in Seoul is very extensive having been rebuilt for the 2002 World Cup, just like the metro in Beijing was enhanced for the Olympics.  Both metros take you to both cultural and entertainment locations. We chose market destinations like Insa-Dong , Namdaemun  and the Dongdaemun.  Insa-Dong in particular was delightful. It is an eclectic neighborhood of local artists who call their individual galleries ‘museums’.  An interesting choice of words, but it seemed to work. The area was full of tourists and shoppers bargaining for the local food and souvenirs.  The mother of pearl jewelry and boxes seemed to generate a large amount of attention and were beautiful. As we walked these markets, my mind noted the differences with the many markets that have been visited in China. The goods in Korea were more for discretionary purchases – keepsakes, tourist items, and luxury items; in China there are more staples in the markets – clothes, household items and some adornments. Now this could be a product of the markets that we visited – they were designed for this purpose and there are the ‘local’ markets for Seoul citizens, or it could be that the target audience of the entrepreneurs is different. It could also be that the socio- economic growths of the cities are not at the same place. Whichever the case, the sensation of being in a capitalistic shopping venue was overwhelming. All around visitors from Europe, the US and other parts abroad haggled and jostled and purchased.          

Indulgences like Cold Stone, and a 5 course Italian meal that were intermixed with traditional spicy Korean food like kimchee, barbeque and fish made the weekend a culinary delight. One evening spent wandering around the expat night market reminded me of the Asia in movies the one sees in all the major cities, the bright neon lit alleyways. Some filled with restaurants, some with shopping stalls, and some with dimly lit bars where the working girls beckon you in for a drink and dance. Unlike China, this market was primarily filled with American soldiers and European businessmen and tourists. Seoul is definitely a night city, the heat driving activity to a crawl in the day and the coolness of the night giving life to the energy of the citizens.           

Sipping a Stella one night on the patio of a Wine Bar, I watched the life unfold around me. Couples walking arm in arm, friends laughing and playing as the wandered between pubs. Being deliciously invisible in this heterogeneous setting, I caught a conversation between a twenty-something Western couple. He regaled her with his worldliness about Asia. My imagination conjured up the story of how she was new to the region and he was trying to impress her with his knowledge and wisdom. Sneaking a glance, I recognized her glazed stare as someone who was bored, but remaining polite with the hope that there was more. Her smile was frozen for appearances. I wondered if he was an American GI, or with the diplomatic service or simply a businessman working in the region. As he stood and left to settle the bill, she pulled out her cellphone for a quick hushed call. As I sipped my beer I wondered if it was a rescue request to a friend, or a warning to a roommate not to wait up. As they walked away together, their hands did not interlock. I decided it was a rescue call.            

The wanderings of Seoul were simple, comfortable and relaxing in a way that only familiarity can bring. It was my escape, a rescue call from the noise and bustle of the most populous country. It was melancholy, a reminder that there were still 4 weeks until my next trip home. 3 months from my last shared smile with Jae or the kids. A bittersweet checkpoint that for the excitement and wonderment of living abroad comes a cost – a toll on the soul that leaves you longing for home.  In Dalian, the engulfment of China’s transition and growth can mask these reminders. As much as I enjoy my frielnds and experiences in Dalian, often life as a sense of interloping  rather than inclusiveness in the world around.  Much of this is my own doing – lack of  language, not knowing the culture and effort at immersion, but some of it is also the maturity of the culture to embrace diversity. In many parts of China, the West is still a curiosity as the country continues to explode at a huge rate of change. The comfort and acceptance will come in time as the world encroaches and experiences the middle kingdom.  It is a difference that 300 miles can demonstrate depending on the direction that one travels from 3-1603.            

 Seoul Slideshow: http://wst2010.smugmug.com/Travel/Seoul/12477242_DzoJU/