Before and during my trip, I would receive emails and warnings from my parents, cautioning me about the dangers of travel in Thailand because of the 'riots and unrest'. I could scarcely keep myself from laughing sometimes, not because of mom and dad's concern, which was touching, but at what they were concerned with. Thailand was far and away the safest country we visited on our trip; they're even democratic! (contrary to rumors, I did not say, 'smells like freedom', when I crossed the boarder into Thailand). Of course I'm not naive enough to believe that simply being democratic makes a country safer, just ask any of my friends who've been mugged in D.C. It's just that when the other countries I visited were... let's just say 'fast and loose' with laws, Thailand comes out smelling like roses.
Not getting a warning about Cambodia was simply amusing because it was far and away the most dangerous. It's desperately poor country, rife with corruption, and they are still reeling from a genocide more resent than our Vietnam War, but generally these days it doesn't make the news much, so it's trouble aren't on peoples minds.
How bad is it there? One night when we were on the beach in Shianoukville we went to the bars on the beach for drinks. Suddenly, around midnight, the music shut off. We were very confused, because all day there had been people passing out fliers on the beach promoting a party at the bar, drumming up interest and such, but here they were killing the music at midnight. When it didn't turn back on after a bit we walked up the bar and struck up a conversation with the westerners who worked at the bar. It seems that starting 2 nights before the police had come to every bar on the beach at midnight and ordered the music turned off, throwing bottles at one bar and waving their pistol in the air at the next. Nobody wanted to offend the bottle throwing, pistol waving policemen, so the music stayed silent for another half hour. By then someone had enough whisky courage to turn the music back on, abit very low. Within a few minutes a shadowy policeman appeared on the sand, calling over the manager, carrying his AK47 rifle strapped to his back. The music turned off, everyone went home. Nobody argues with a policeman with a rifle.
It's this story I reflect upon when I think of dangers in South East Asia. My boat accidents and motorcycle fall were either self inflicted or due to lax standards, but the potential for an unhinged cop to wave a deadly weapon at a bar for playing music too loud brings uncertainty to a higher level. I never felt unsafe in that way in Thailand, which is why I'm always so amused by my warning over peaceful Thai protests, when there were much bigger, scarier fish in the sea.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Why I avoid boats
I promised you 5, and somehow I'm guessing traveling internationally with swine flu about doesn't count (besides, it would seem to be hitting the US much harder than Thailand anyway). Allow me to quickly breeze through the two least exciting near death moments, because frankly they weren't that close...
The first was on the Thai island of Ko Tao, where the idiots running our snorkeling tour parked the boat at high tide, but then found themselves beached when we tried to leave at low tide. Myself and the other members of the top deck had to suddenly rush to one side of the boat and throw our weight about, because as they gunned the motor it caused the boat to pitch so far that tipping over and capsizing was a very legitimate possibility. We lived, eventually the boat got unstuck, and aside from about 3 really terrifying seconds, this is a pretty terrible story.
The other snoozer of a catastrophe was returning from Ko Tao back to the mainland. Do you remember those stories about ferries in Thailand sinking to the bottom of the ocean with all the tourists aboard? Well, we were scheduled to go on exactly that type of easily sunk ferry - in the middle of a rainstorm at that. We lucked out because we had prepurchased train tickets, so when our sinkable boat was going to get us to the train late, they transferred us to the high speed catamaran. Relieved not to be in the boat with the 50/50 shot of sinking, I can't tell you how elated we were to be in the sturdy, new and totally enclosed fast boat. Yes we did suffer from seasickness, but when the boat drops over 15 foot waves, I guess thats what you expect. I'll take a little seasickness over sinking anyday.
That's 4, there is only one left, and thankfully it's better than the last two. I could see your eyes glazing over in the last two stories as you thought, "Dan, this isn't 'near death', you lame-o. This is maybe a little scary, but don't sell these as near death." And I think I agreed with you. Thankfully, the last one is a doozie. What could possibly have put me so close to the brink of existence? A Mekong River Cruise!!
Alright, cruise is the wrong word. Due to circumstances we needed to get from the Laos/Thai boarder to the city of Luang Prabang quickly. The options were (a) 14 hour bus ride through windy mountain roads, (b) a 2 day boat trip down the river, or (c) a one day boat trip down the river. Option (a) was bad because Adrienne gets motion sick and we would have arrived at 2 in the morning. Option (b) was bad because, like I said, we needed to get there quickly. This left option (c), which was bad because, well let me quote the Lonely Planet Guide: "Fastboats are not the safest transport south, and fatalities are not uncommon. When we passed there was even talk of banning foreigners from these boats." Oh yeah, and it had been raining all morning. We chose (c).
Imagine a long, fast wooden boat with a giant prop motor sitting on the back. All the luggage is piled in the front of the boat, under a few blue tarps to keep them dry, while the 8 passengers are arranged 2 by 2. They sit on the bottom of the boat, with their arms clutching their knees, because there is no space to spread out, not even to sit cross-legged. All of them are wearing life vests and helmets (as if that would save them in a crash). Now imagine the driver whizzing them along at speeds of near 50 mph. This was our boat.
As dangerous as that sounds, it gets worse - the river was terrifying. I've been whitewater rafting, even gone on some class 4 rapids, but I've never seen a river with real whirlpools. The currents in this river were going every which way, all at once, which meant our little boat got pushed around, bouncing over depressions and sinkholes. Yet as any raft guide will tell you, it isn't the currents that kill you, it's the rocks that make the currents (at least that's what I think the guides should say...). Scattered along the entire 5 hour trip were scores of large, jagged rocks sticking up everywhere! We would weave in and out, dodging them along with the driftwood and trees dislodged by the heavy rain. We even stopped to help another small boat like us file out a chink in it's propeller because they'd struck a rock! It goes without saying that any actual collision with these rocks, traveling at those speeds would have been certain death, helmet or no.
Thankfully we made it. We even had entertainment! On our boat was an Englishman who lives in Thailand, but was taking a month of vacation with his friend. He had decided they would take the fastboat down river, but to muster the courage after reading the Lonely Planet bit, he began to relieve the contents from a bottle of rice whiskey. Having finished a full 12 oz bottle before boarding the boat, it came as no surprise when he refused to wear his helmet, went swimming with his passport in his pocket, and fell in. Twice. Had we gone the way of the Dodo, at least we would have died laughing. Thankfully, we didn't.
The first was on the Thai island of Ko Tao, where the idiots running our snorkeling tour parked the boat at high tide, but then found themselves beached when we tried to leave at low tide. Myself and the other members of the top deck had to suddenly rush to one side of the boat and throw our weight about, because as they gunned the motor it caused the boat to pitch so far that tipping over and capsizing was a very legitimate possibility. We lived, eventually the boat got unstuck, and aside from about 3 really terrifying seconds, this is a pretty terrible story.
The other snoozer of a catastrophe was returning from Ko Tao back to the mainland. Do you remember those stories about ferries in Thailand sinking to the bottom of the ocean with all the tourists aboard? Well, we were scheduled to go on exactly that type of easily sunk ferry - in the middle of a rainstorm at that. We lucked out because we had prepurchased train tickets, so when our sinkable boat was going to get us to the train late, they transferred us to the high speed catamaran. Relieved not to be in the boat with the 50/50 shot of sinking, I can't tell you how elated we were to be in the sturdy, new and totally enclosed fast boat. Yes we did suffer from seasickness, but when the boat drops over 15 foot waves, I guess thats what you expect. I'll take a little seasickness over sinking anyday.
That's 4, there is only one left, and thankfully it's better than the last two. I could see your eyes glazing over in the last two stories as you thought, "Dan, this isn't 'near death', you lame-o. This is maybe a little scary, but don't sell these as near death." And I think I agreed with you. Thankfully, the last one is a doozie. What could possibly have put me so close to the brink of existence? A Mekong River Cruise!!
Alright, cruise is the wrong word. Due to circumstances we needed to get from the Laos/Thai boarder to the city of Luang Prabang quickly. The options were (a) 14 hour bus ride through windy mountain roads, (b) a 2 day boat trip down the river, or (c) a one day boat trip down the river. Option (a) was bad because Adrienne gets motion sick and we would have arrived at 2 in the morning. Option (b) was bad because, like I said, we needed to get there quickly. This left option (c), which was bad because, well let me quote the Lonely Planet Guide: "Fastboats are not the safest transport south, and fatalities are not uncommon. When we passed there was even talk of banning foreigners from these boats." Oh yeah, and it had been raining all morning. We chose (c).
Imagine a long, fast wooden boat with a giant prop motor sitting on the back. All the luggage is piled in the front of the boat, under a few blue tarps to keep them dry, while the 8 passengers are arranged 2 by 2. They sit on the bottom of the boat, with their arms clutching their knees, because there is no space to spread out, not even to sit cross-legged. All of them are wearing life vests and helmets (as if that would save them in a crash). Now imagine the driver whizzing them along at speeds of near 50 mph. This was our boat.
As dangerous as that sounds, it gets worse - the river was terrifying. I've been whitewater rafting, even gone on some class 4 rapids, but I've never seen a river with real whirlpools. The currents in this river were going every which way, all at once, which meant our little boat got pushed around, bouncing over depressions and sinkholes. Yet as any raft guide will tell you, it isn't the currents that kill you, it's the rocks that make the currents (at least that's what I think the guides should say...). Scattered along the entire 5 hour trip were scores of large, jagged rocks sticking up everywhere! We would weave in and out, dodging them along with the driftwood and trees dislodged by the heavy rain. We even stopped to help another small boat like us file out a chink in it's propeller because they'd struck a rock! It goes without saying that any actual collision with these rocks, traveling at those speeds would have been certain death, helmet or no.
Thankfully we made it. We even had entertainment! On our boat was an Englishman who lives in Thailand, but was taking a month of vacation with his friend. He had decided they would take the fastboat down river, but to muster the courage after reading the Lonely Planet bit, he began to relieve the contents from a bottle of rice whiskey. Having finished a full 12 oz bottle before boarding the boat, it came as no surprise when he refused to wear his helmet, went swimming with his passport in his pocket, and fell in. Twice. Had we gone the way of the Dodo, at least we would have died laughing. Thankfully, we didn't.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Falling off the bar
I promised 5 near death experiences. The truth is none of the rest are nearly as exciting; in fact 3 of them involved boats. The helplessness of a person on a boat is nearly equal to that of a person on a airplane, however boating accidents are way more common. Sure I can swim, hell I used to be a lifeguard, but when the seas can swallow a winabago and not even burp even Michael Phelps new suit couldn't save him. Thankfully these are called 'near death experiences'.
The first boating accident occured in Cambodia, off the coastline of Shianoukville. We'd chosen a windy, windy day to go out snorkelling (which we couldn't do, because it was windy), on a beautiful river boat. The problem with a 'river boat' on ocean swells is... it's prone to tip over!!! Mercifully, it didn't, but the boat was rocking so hard 'Pearl Jam' would have been jealous. The bartender told us "don't worry, but for your safety you should hold onto the bar so you don't tip off your stool." And it would have been good advice had not three waves later the bar litterly lifted off, broke in two and sent me hurtling to the floor in a cumble of glass, dishes and bar stools. Meanwhile, the boat chose not to stop pitching, making removal from the rubble rather difficult. In the end I escaped with only a small piece of glass caught in my foot (removed by a nurse who happened to be aborad). I had escaped a near death experience!
I should have taken the hint and stayed off boats for the rest of the trip, but I didn't. I got on boats again and again and again...
The first boating accident occured in Cambodia, off the coastline of Shianoukville. We'd chosen a windy, windy day to go out snorkelling (which we couldn't do, because it was windy), on a beautiful river boat. The problem with a 'river boat' on ocean swells is... it's prone to tip over!!! Mercifully, it didn't, but the boat was rocking so hard 'Pearl Jam' would have been jealous. The bartender told us "don't worry, but for your safety you should hold onto the bar so you don't tip off your stool." And it would have been good advice had not three waves later the bar litterly lifted off, broke in two and sent me hurtling to the floor in a cumble of glass, dishes and bar stools. Meanwhile, the boat chose not to stop pitching, making removal from the rubble rather difficult. In the end I escaped with only a small piece of glass caught in my foot (removed by a nurse who happened to be aborad). I had escaped a near death experience!
I should have taken the hint and stayed off boats for the rest of the trip, but I didn't. I got on boats again and again and again...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
5 Near Death Experiences
I've been remiss. Let me start with an email from my brother:
Hey hermano
you break your fingers in that moto accident? cant write email? im glad to hear you are well, even if it is only through what mom and dad tell me.
just cuz you are in an OECD country you think you dont have to make blog posts anymore? you aren't on a honeymoon or anything, i expect intelligent analysis of foreign cultures, comic retellings of common day activities and exquisite exposés on ethnic gastronomy.
sorry for the accusational tone above, i hope you are having a good time, and im just curious as to what my big bro bro is up to.
have you put any shrimp on the barbie? had a fosters? gotten in a boxing fight with a kangaroo? found nemo?
Toodles,
Nick
ps new yorker and atlantic monthly both have all their content available online. hours of high brow entertainment and education. if ya know you need a rest from seeing the world and just want to read about it instead.
Nick, you are right, I haven't fulfilled my duty as blogwritter these past many weeks. I hope that it isn't too late to change that. I vow to write a new post in my blog every day (or nearly every day) for the next 10 days! And more beyond that! I'll write about Asia! I'll write about Australia!! I'll try to provide pictures!
I suppose the first thing I need to address is my brothers reference to a moto accident. It is true that indeed I did have an itsy bitsy motorbike accident, but as I said to my parents - no broken bones and I survived, which is the important thing, right?
The story of the accident isn't super interesting. I was in Laos, having left Adrienne behind in the city of Luang Prabang, while I ventured on to Phonsavan for a day. We were only sepereated for about 60 hours and only because Adrienne didn't relish the idea of the extra 9 hours on the bus my side-jaunt would take. In short, the accident happened while I was alone!
Phonsovan is famous for 2 things: (1) it was the most heavily bombed provence in Laos during the Vietnam War [and Laos has been the most heavily bombed country on earth, thanks to the 'secret war' the US waged contiuously as its efforts in Vietnam], and (2) it is home to 'The Plain of Jars', which was what really enticed me. To sum up 'Da Jars' in brief: A field full of mysterious stone jars, older than Christ and origionally created for unknown purposes - a veritable asian Stonehendge. Bombs and Old stuff; that's how I travel.
Obviously I needed to get onto a motorbike inorder to crash it - so upon arriving I met a fellow traveler (who happened to own and ride a motorcycle back home in England) who convinced me to skip the lame tour groups and ride a bike and see everything on my own. The next morning we set out for a 30 mile ride out to see a cave which had been bombed out, killing everyone inside over 30 years ago. The ride out was beautiful, the cave somber and the return trip disasterous. We agreed upon leaving the cave to meet back in town for lunch at 'the indian restaurant'. About 5 minutes down the road the experienced rider sped on ahead and left me behind. Not 3 minutes later than rounding a turn did I come in too fast, panic, break incorrectly (with the hand break, not the superior footbreak) and skid out into a pile of gravel.
Surprised and relieved to still be alive, I quickly concluded nothing hurt that much, but the discompashionate cars which drove pass annoyed me. Would nobody stop of a crashed motorcyclist? Someone did - the owner of my hotel who was driving the tour group I'd shunned in favor of a motorcycle trip. He hopped out, helped me up, checked out me and my bike - I assured him I was fine but was more concerned for the bike [breaking them is terribly expensive]. After satisfying his concerns, the hotel owner drove on and I gingerly hopped back on my bike to drive back to town.
I was lucky. Very, Very Lucky. I had some scrapes on my knees, which looked worse than they were thanks to the blood they poured onto my pants. My left elbow got it worst, which the next day I went to the hospital to have cleanned professionally. And the bike landed on my foot giving me a limp for a few days, but nothing serious, nothing long lasting, nothing unlucky.
But I still hadn't seen my jars. After returning to town, I cleaned myself up with my first aid kit, had a rest then met up with my travel buddy to head out to see 'Da Jars'. We got to two of the 3 sights (the best two, by rumor) and were awed by the idea. To be honest they don't blow you away like Stonehendge, but jars aren't as exciting as precariously balanced rocks; that's just a reality. It was still cool and to prove I made it there:
So, in retrospect perhaps I shouldn't have gotten a motorcycle, or at least I shouldn't have driven so fast. But as they say in South East Asia: "You haven't done South East Asia until you've had 5 near death experiences." That's one, stay tuned for the rest of the list!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Sweat and Malaria Tablets
I haven't written. I know, I know, what good is a blog if you don't write, and how will anyone know I'm alive if I don't feed the blog, but the internet isn't exactly the most reliable thing when you travel, at least not in South East Asia. Things here run differently to back home, as you might have guessed. For one, heat is a given. I encourage you to find a clip of Robin Williams in "Good Morning Vietnam" doing the weather report - "Hot today, hot yesterday, hot tomorrow", but I'm pretty sure he uses more profanity, being Robin Williams and all. But somehow I don't think you'll be satisfied with a simple paragraph telling you that the jungle is hot. No, you want more:
1) We're terrified of mosquitos. They're invisible biters and cary nasties with them. We take a malaria pill each night after dinner (if you want to know how well they work at preventing malaria, ask my brother). Adrienne's makes her photosensitive, which doesn't mean that she turns green and produces energy (which is what I thought it meant, she asured me that was photosynthetic), but means she get sunburned easily. I already slop so much sunscreen on there is no way to tell if mine is as well. Yet we're not afraid of malaria (hell, malaria is curable, just ask my brother). We're quaking in our sandles about Dengue Feaver: uncurable and absolutly miserable! We were at a swanky bar in Saigon and they had a cocktail called "The Dengue Cure", so we had to order it. On a tangent, the bartender was a friend of ours who had won best mixologist in Shanghai last year, a city of many classy bars... this was a delicious drink! But back to the serious matter at hand - I am relieved that I come from a place with next to no infectious disease inherent in our mosquitos.
2) Vietnam is a forgiving country. You'd expect them to be rather upset with the USA for fighting them, occupying them and causing thousands of birth defects as a result of chemical warfare (agent orange). Yet they're just not that angry. In the north there wasn't much fighting (lots of bombing, but not hand to hand fighting), so they were rather realxed about the whole thing. In the south it was more intense, especially around Saigon, where there was fighting and American troops. But people like my motorbike driver, who was from the south, was very philosophical about the war. He told us, "My father went to the war against the Americans but was very unlucky, he didn't come back." Those are not the words of an angry bitter soul.
The only time I felt any animocity towards my country was at the Chu Chi Tunnels - the tunnels outside Saigon the VietCong faught their war from. They were amazing to see, and unbelivable, considering they lived, ate and slept in these tiny little subterranian tunnels. Before we went in the tunnels they showed a propoganda film from the 70's about local men and women who'd killed lots of Americans and what heroes they were. It was odd to sit in a room and watch a video explaining how great it was to kill an American.
Other than that incident though, Vietnam seems to have mostly moved on from the war. That isn't to say some people aren't angry or effected, but the unused bunkers dotting the country side seem to have
blended into the landscape and history of the country, not like a black eye, but like another story in Vietnams long history.
blended into the landscape and history of the country, not like a black eye, but like another story in Vietnams long history.3) At the tunnels we got to fire M16s. They were loud, they were awesome!
4) The Temples of Ankor Wat are one of the 5 most amazing man made things I've ever seen. They're older than almost any church in Europe, bigger than any church in Europe and can be covered in elaborate carvings. I mean, some of these awesome temples are older than England... that's old!!!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Don't Tell My Mom
Please don't tell my mom; it's not the type of thing she's want to hear. My dad maybe could handle it, but mother's don't like to know these things. Yes, I did it because it seemed fun, and No I didn't get hurt, so there shouldn't be any problem. No harm, no foul, right? Still, don't tell my mom that we skipped out on our bus ticket from Hue to Hoi An and hired motorbikes to drive us 100 miles down the coast.
Our drivers, Nho and Ty (Easyrider), were just supposed to drive us around the old tombs and city of Hue during our 5 hour bus layover. We were just supposed to get back on the bus and ride to Hoi An that afternoon, but the more we rode, the more fun we had, the more they talked up riding down on the bikes and after a while it seemed like a darn fun idea. So we did.
Of course riding a motorbike through the windey highways of Vietnam, past the rice paddies and mountinous jungle isn't the safest way to travel, but there just isn't a better way to see the country. They took us to a mountain waterfall with a swiming hole below to relax at. They took us over the seaside mountain pass outfitted with a US bunker from the war, as the green hills which looked on raced to the blue Pacific below. They took us along the miles and miles of beach, past the resorts, restaurants and men lounging on plastic chairs. They took us off the tour bus and into the real Vietnam, bringing us local snacks (gelatinous rice steamed in bannana leaf with shrimp) and local restaurants. It you ever come to Vietnam, please hire a motorbike.
But please, don't tell my mom. These kinds of things tend to worry mothers, so please don't tell mine.
Our drivers, Nho and Ty (Easyrider), were just supposed to drive us around the old tombs and city of Hue during our 5 hour bus layover. We were just supposed to get back on the bus and ride to Hoi An that afternoon, but the more we rode, the more fun we had, the more they talked up riding down on the bikes and after a while it seemed like a darn fun idea. So we did.
Of course riding a motorbike through the windey highways of Vietnam, past the rice paddies and mountinous jungle isn't the safest way to travel, but there just isn't a better way to see the country. They took us to a mountain waterfall with a swiming hole below to relax at. They took us over the seaside mountain pass outfitted with a US bunker from the war, as the green hills which looked on raced to the blue Pacific below. They took us along the miles and miles of beach, past the resorts, restaurants and men lounging on plastic chairs. They took us off the tour bus and into the real Vietnam, bringing us local snacks (gelatinous rice steamed in bannana leaf with shrimp) and local restaurants. It you ever come to Vietnam, please hire a motorbike.
But please, don't tell my mom. These kinds of things tend to worry mothers, so please don't tell mine.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Life on the Road
I'd like to say I'm jet-setting around Asia, but that's not quite true. I'm more of 'slow bussing around Asia.' It's been a busy week, traveling from the foothills of the Himilayas to the Gulf of Tonkin and the Pacific Ocean. Adrienne and I are adjusting to life on the road still, with each day presenting new challanges and new adventures.
Leaving China left me with the problems of traveling in a unique country [Vietnam] without the requisite bag of tricks I'd developed in China. Adrienne has told me I need to smile and say, 'no thank you', to street people, instead of just ignoring them like in China. Also, I've found the Vietnamese slightly less punctual as the Chinese. Plus there are more scams.... much more.
Talking to people makes you wonder why you'd come to a country where almost everyone has their own scam story on either a bus, travel agent, taxi or xe om (motorcycle taxi). The scams are all the same, from extortion to overpricing, to bait-and-switch to outright theft. I sit on edge waiting for my crack at this seedy underside of Vietnam, suspecting everyone of harboring an inner swindler. Not the most enjoyable way to travel, but as time passes my feeling has been dissapating. Hopefully it won't be my lingering memory of this country.
Aside from that I've been taking a lot of busses. Overnight sleeper busses where instead of seats there are proper bunk-beds, like in a first class airplane but much more cramped (up to 40 bed on a bus!). The roads suffer more than the buses, as we traveled 7 hours from the tiny village of YuanYang to the Vietnamese boarder, travling the entire way benath the completed but unused highway - Vietnam hasn't built it's side at the boarder yet, so China forbids travel on it's half. In addition to the Chinese government's urban transportation policy, descending and climbing the hills near the Sino-Vietnamese border on the tiny windey roads can also be cause for nausea. Or at least it was for an old gradma 3 rows behind me, yacking into a bag as we climbed the hills to the village of YuanYang. I just put on my iPod and rubbed Tigerbalm under my nose to cover the sound and smell....
The decent from the mountains of Lijiang, through the rice village of YuanYang, the rainy hills of Sapa and down to the metropolitan hub of Hanoi has been a dizzying display of minority villages, fantastic panaramas and lots of rain. The best thing I've seen in the past week was Halong bay - an oceanic playground of hundreds limestone cliff islands shooting up from the green-blue water below. It's an experience to kayak through a small cave into a hidden lagoon surrounded by towering green cliffs on all sides.
I'm catching a bus down the coast in 10 minutes to Hue and Hoi An. Beach here I come!
Leaving China left me with the problems of traveling in a unique country [Vietnam] without the requisite bag of tricks I'd developed in China. Adrienne has told me I need to smile and say, 'no thank you', to street people, instead of just ignoring them like in China. Also, I've found the Vietnamese slightly less punctual as the Chinese. Plus there are more scams.... much more.
Talking to people makes you wonder why you'd come to a country where almost everyone has their own scam story on either a bus, travel agent, taxi or xe om (motorcycle taxi). The scams are all the same, from extortion to overpricing, to bait-and-switch to outright theft. I sit on edge waiting for my crack at this seedy underside of Vietnam, suspecting everyone of harboring an inner swindler. Not the most enjoyable way to travel, but as time passes my feeling has been dissapating. Hopefully it won't be my lingering memory of this country.
Aside from that I've been taking a lot of busses. Overnight sleeper busses where instead of seats there are proper bunk-beds, like in a first class airplane but much more cramped (up to 40 bed on a bus!). The roads suffer more than the buses, as we traveled 7 hours from the tiny village of YuanYang to the Vietnamese boarder, travling the entire way benath the completed but unused highway - Vietnam hasn't built it's side at the boarder yet, so China forbids travel on it's half. In addition to the Chinese government's urban transportation policy, descending and climbing the hills near the Sino-Vietnamese border on the tiny windey roads can also be cause for nausea. Or at least it was for an old gradma 3 rows behind me, yacking into a bag as we climbed the hills to the village of YuanYang. I just put on my iPod and rubbed Tigerbalm under my nose to cover the sound and smell....
The decent from the mountains of Lijiang, through the rice village of YuanYang, the rainy hills of Sapa and down to the metropolitan hub of Hanoi has been a dizzying display of minority villages, fantastic panaramas and lots of rain. The best thing I've seen in the past week was Halong bay - an oceanic playground of hundreds limestone cliff islands shooting up from the green-blue water below. It's an experience to kayak through a small cave into a hidden lagoon surrounded by towering green cliffs on all sides.
I'm catching a bus down the coast in 10 minutes to Hue and Hoi An. Beach here I come!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Chinese Sunscreen
We often use the word 'Chinese' to describe something with uniquely Chinese characteristics, which celebrates the heritage of the country, like 'Chinese Food' or 'Chinese Martial Arts'. However, sometimes the word is used to designate something of low quality, 'Chinese quality' for example (or just look at all the fuss the PRC kicked up over Guns and Roses latest album - 'Chinese Democracy'). We'll I am afraid I need to rail on 'Chinese Sunscreen'. The quality is low.
Adrienne and I arrived in the remote western tourist city of LiJiang this week, expecting to see timeless Chinese Streets (used in the first meaning), and breathtaking scenery. On our first full day we saddled up on some bicycles and headed out of town, being sure to slop on some sunscreen before we left. Adrienne and I both have a bottle of sunscreen, but Adrienne's is from the 'Cancer Prevention Center of Australia', mine is from China. Choosing to rub the Australian stuff on our faces and necks, we set out on a very sunny bike ride to a small, rather decidedly uninteresting and unworthy-of-the-hype town nearby. As we paused for lunch we realized how red our arms were becoming and pulled out my Chinese sunscreen to remedy the problem before the burn was absolute.
The sunscreen did nothing. It might as well have been water. In no way, shape, or form did it prevent a single UV ray from our sun from reaching our skin; in short if we'd have been from KFC we'd have been served extra crispy. Thanks Chinese Sunscreen.
Not to fear, we made the best of it, setting off on a 2 day hike of Tiger Leaping Gorge the next morning, burned as can be, but happy to be traveling. The hike was strenuous at times (900m elevation gain), but to see the 5500m tall mountains sweep down nearly 4000m to the bottom of the gorge was unforgettable. To put it in perspective, the distance from the bottom of the valley to the top is almost as great as the distance from sea level to the tallest mountain in Europe. We might have been red from Chinese sunscreen, but I've no complaints about the Chinese mountains.
Adrienne and I arrived in the remote western tourist city of LiJiang this week, expecting to see timeless Chinese Streets (used in the first meaning), and breathtaking scenery. On our first full day we saddled up on some bicycles and headed out of town, being sure to slop on some sunscreen before we left. Adrienne and I both have a bottle of sunscreen, but Adrienne's is from the 'Cancer Prevention Center of Australia', mine is from China. Choosing to rub the Australian stuff on our faces and necks, we set out on a very sunny bike ride to a small, rather decidedly uninteresting and unworthy-of-the-hype town nearby. As we paused for lunch we realized how red our arms were becoming and pulled out my Chinese sunscreen to remedy the problem before the burn was absolute.
The sunscreen did nothing. It might as well have been water. In no way, shape, or form did it prevent a single UV ray from our sun from reaching our skin; in short if we'd have been from KFC we'd have been served extra crispy. Thanks Chinese Sunscreen.
Not to fear, we made the best of it, setting off on a 2 day hike of Tiger Leaping Gorge the next morning, burned as can be, but happy to be traveling. The hike was strenuous at times (900m elevation gain), but to see the 5500m tall mountains sweep down nearly 4000m to the bottom of the gorge was unforgettable. To put it in perspective, the distance from the bottom of the valley to the top is almost as great as the distance from sea level to the tallest mountain in Europe. We might have been red from Chinese sunscreen, but I've no complaints about the Chinese mountains.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
To the road...
As I write this I am less than 12 hours from getting on a plane out of Shanghai without knowing when or if I will return to this city. It's been a fascinating interesting experience, you might even call it life changing. The past two weeks have been understandably busy, scurrying around to ship off all my things and say goodbye to friends before I leave. This end, like most, is bittersweet; As excited as I am to travel, and as excited as I am to leave, departing a place where friends have been made and an enjoyable life lived always has a twinge of sadness. Because I've been busy I haven't been able to write everything I wanted to write in here the past few weeks, so I'm going to hit you with some quick hit paragraphs about Shanghai.
This city can be beautiful. Who knew?! At the City Urban Planning Museum they showed a map of the downtown and had all the parks and streets lined with trees and flowers highlighted in green, which stunningly displayed how much of this city has greenery if you care to see it. Now that the usual grey has abated for the past two weeks and the sky is blue, everything seems greener and more natural.
And Shanghai isn't taking this beautification lying down either, hoards or workers and public works projects are making this drab grey city more and more vibrant by the day. A block from my house an old decayed street was redone with more trees, more flowers and a new paint job that took the street from depressing to leisurely in a few weeks. Elsewhere in the city paint on the old grey block houses gives them a lighter presence, casting the mind back not to the communist era, but before that when Shanghai was really coming into its own. Perhaps in a few years the city will complete its transformation, which I no doubt will return to see.
The Shanghainese can learn, and learn fast. The World Expo is coming and Shanghai needs to be ready for it's big debut. As a result there have been posters, fliers, people with microphones urging pedestrians on the escalator to... Stand on the Right, Walk on the Left. You may recall I railed against the Chinese inability to grasp this concept, which I suspected at the time was because nobody had ever told them to. Turns out I was right, and all they needed was a massive government campaign to tell the people what to do and think, and compliance has been exceedingly swift! Westernization here they come!
Unfortunately the Expo brings other problems for the expats living in Shanghai. The government here has already unrolled a campaign of advertisements which will run nearly 24/7 on every available viewing screen proclaiming this upcoming expo as the seminal pinnacle of human creation for all of history. I'm not kidding, May 1 marked the '365 days until' point and the ads ratcheted up from boiling to straight vaporization. Thankfully I'm leaving and I'll never need to gaze into the happy eyes of the large 'toothpaste-looking' mascot ever again. The rest of the expats remaining behind in Shanghai will no doubt have reoccurring nightmares about this creature and will need psychiatric care... Good luck to you all.
On an unrelated topic, I've realized China does a pretty good job at recycling. I don't know how accurate my last statement is, but my personal experience in the past week while trying to throw out all the junk I didn't want left me realizing how much other people in Shanghai wanted my junk! Now, I've experienced the strange bottle recycling phenomenon before. Every city has recycling and every city has can and bottle people, but rarely are these can and bottle people seemingly homeowners with leisure time to play majong. Whenever I try to bring my empty bottles to the trash cove in my building complex, I make it halfway there before some old man comes running up to me to take the bottles from me, which wouldn't surprise me half as much if he hadn't been relaxing in our guarded compound playing majong with his buddies. I don't even know where the recycling place is near my house, but he does and I know how to find him, which is all that matters. Also, as I was Cleaning my room, I had loads to throw away, the useless junk I'd collected but had no intention of paying good money to send home, every trip I made to the dumpster full of bags had been seized by curious collectors before I returned with the next load 5 minutes later. Somewhere in Shanghai people are enjoying baggy sweaters, extra reading lamps and broken suitcases and I hope they enjoy them. Here's to you, Shanghai's secret recyelers!
Finally, as a last ditch 'Tourist in Shanghai' moment, I saw the Chinese Acrobats Show on Sunday night. Between the lady who balanced 20 water glasses on her chin before climbing a latter in high heels and the gentlemen who flipped off see-saws onto waiting chairs 30 feet above, I was most impressed by the one man who juggled a porcelain pot the size of a mid sized TV on his head. He would toss this massive pot in the air, catch it on his head, then tossed it from lip to lip on his head, all without dropping the thing which would have caused a massive headache, had it not crushed him completely. Nothing like a little good old fashioned tourist razzle dazzle.
And so, for the next 4+ months I expect nothing less than the usual tourist razzle dazzle. This isn't the end of the blog. Although I can't get Shanghaied in Shanghai anymore, I can still write about everything I see in South East Asia and beyond. I'll write soon.
This city can be beautiful. Who knew?! At the City Urban Planning Museum they showed a map of the downtown and had all the parks and streets lined with trees and flowers highlighted in green, which stunningly displayed how much of this city has greenery if you care to see it. Now that the usual grey has abated for the past two weeks and the sky is blue, everything seems greener and more natural.
And Shanghai isn't taking this beautification lying down either, hoards or workers and public works projects are making this drab grey city more and more vibrant by the day. A block from my house an old decayed street was redone with more trees, more flowers and a new paint job that took the street from depressing to leisurely in a few weeks. Elsewhere in the city paint on the old grey block houses gives them a lighter presence, casting the mind back not to the communist era, but before that when Shanghai was really coming into its own. Perhaps in a few years the city will complete its transformation, which I no doubt will return to see.
The Shanghainese can learn, and learn fast. The World Expo is coming and Shanghai needs to be ready for it's big debut. As a result there have been posters, fliers, people with microphones urging pedestrians on the escalator to... Stand on the Right, Walk on the Left. You may recall I railed against the Chinese inability to grasp this concept, which I suspected at the time was because nobody had ever told them to. Turns out I was right, and all they needed was a massive government campaign to tell the people what to do and think, and compliance has been exceedingly swift! Westernization here they come!
Unfortunately the Expo brings other problems for the expats living in Shanghai. The government here has already unrolled a campaign of advertisements which will run nearly 24/7 on every available viewing screen proclaiming this upcoming expo as the seminal pinnacle of human creation for all of history. I'm not kidding, May 1 marked the '365 days until' point and the ads ratcheted up from boiling to straight vaporization. Thankfully I'm leaving and I'll never need to gaze into the happy eyes of the large 'toothpaste-looking' mascot ever again. The rest of the expats remaining behind in Shanghai will no doubt have reoccurring nightmares about this creature and will need psychiatric care... Good luck to you all.
On an unrelated topic, I've realized China does a pretty good job at recycling. I don't know how accurate my last statement is, but my personal experience in the past week while trying to throw out all the junk I didn't want left me realizing how much other people in Shanghai wanted my junk! Now, I've experienced the strange bottle recycling phenomenon before. Every city has recycling and every city has can and bottle people, but rarely are these can and bottle people seemingly homeowners with leisure time to play majong. Whenever I try to bring my empty bottles to the trash cove in my building complex, I make it halfway there before some old man comes running up to me to take the bottles from me, which wouldn't surprise me half as much if he hadn't been relaxing in our guarded compound playing majong with his buddies. I don't even know where the recycling place is near my house, but he does and I know how to find him, which is all that matters. Also, as I was Cleaning my room, I had loads to throw away, the useless junk I'd collected but had no intention of paying good money to send home, every trip I made to the dumpster full of bags had been seized by curious collectors before I returned with the next load 5 minutes later. Somewhere in Shanghai people are enjoying baggy sweaters, extra reading lamps and broken suitcases and I hope they enjoy them. Here's to you, Shanghai's secret recyelers!
Finally, as a last ditch 'Tourist in Shanghai' moment, I saw the Chinese Acrobats Show on Sunday night. Between the lady who balanced 20 water glasses on her chin before climbing a latter in high heels and the gentlemen who flipped off see-saws onto waiting chairs 30 feet above, I was most impressed by the one man who juggled a porcelain pot the size of a mid sized TV on his head. He would toss this massive pot in the air, catch it on his head, then tossed it from lip to lip on his head, all without dropping the thing which would have caused a massive headache, had it not crushed him completely. Nothing like a little good old fashioned tourist razzle dazzle.
And so, for the next 4+ months I expect nothing less than the usual tourist razzle dazzle. This isn't the end of the blog. Although I can't get Shanghaied in Shanghai anymore, I can still write about everything I see in South East Asia and beyond. I'll write soon.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Simple pleasures
Sometimes we forget about the simple joys in life, and I've found one of the simplest. First, let me set the scene.
China has it's own ways of doing things, for example many people still prefer to poop in a hole in the ground, so in many less westernized cities most of the bathrooms are simply 'squat toilets'.
Now, living in Shanghai I feel privileged to be surrounded by a world of toilet seats, meaning I don't need to stand in a room whose floor is covered in... well, you get the idea. Unfortunately, plumbing in Shanghai isn't always up to snuff. As a result, many toilets, like the ones at my office, cannot accommodate flushed toilet paper; instead a small waist bin sits in the stall next to the toilet and everyone tosses their used paper in there.
Are you ready to hear my simple pleasure? It's walking into the bathroom to discover that the trash can is empty. It means nobody has used the toilet since the cleaning people came, how great is that!!! I imagine this phenomenon is much less common in womens' rooms, but it still isn't that common in the mens'. Unlike in the west, where we can only gauge the cleanliness of the bathroom with our eyes, here in China we have proof of its cleanliness in the emptiness (or fullness) of its trashcan. Believe me, when the trash can is full, I search for a different bathroom. It may be a simple joy to find and empty one, but aren't the simple pleasures the ones which make life great?
China has it's own ways of doing things, for example many people still prefer to poop in a hole in the ground, so in many less westernized cities most of the bathrooms are simply 'squat toilets'.
Now, living in Shanghai I feel privileged to be surrounded by a world of toilet seats, meaning I don't need to stand in a room whose floor is covered in... well, you get the idea. Unfortunately, plumbing in Shanghai isn't always up to snuff. As a result, many toilets, like the ones at my office, cannot accommodate flushed toilet paper; instead a small waist bin sits in the stall next to the toilet and everyone tosses their used paper in there.
Are you ready to hear my simple pleasure? It's walking into the bathroom to discover that the trash can is empty. It means nobody has used the toilet since the cleaning people came, how great is that!!! I imagine this phenomenon is much less common in womens' rooms, but it still isn't that common in the mens'. Unlike in the west, where we can only gauge the cleanliness of the bathroom with our eyes, here in China we have proof of its cleanliness in the emptiness (or fullness) of its trashcan. Believe me, when the trash can is full, I search for a different bathroom. It may be a simple joy to find and empty one, but aren't the simple pleasures the ones which make life great?
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