The Disks that Fly

Frisbee exists in Shanghai! Spurred on by my brother I went in search of an ultimate frisbee league to join in Shanghai and, lo', there was one! For most of the past 4 months I've spent my Monday nights at the Shanghai Workers Stadium chasing disks with a largely expat community of frisbee lovers.

We had a 10 week long season, with 4 teams in the league. Apparently we had a championship game, which my team won but I wasn't there for due to travel plans. It was just great to get out and run around and have fun. The players ranged from newbies learning the organized game for the first time to experts recently imported from top American university teams. The atmosphere was fun, yet competitive. Occasionally there'd be brushes and arguments, as frisbee players are wont to do, but the comradory of the team and the thrill of competition made up for any hard feelings anyone had. Basically everyone had fun.

The best players travel internationally to competitions all over South East Asia. Apparently Shanghai is a hotbed for good ultimate talent, along with Singapore and Manila. The teams meet regularly at tournaments throughout the year in those three cities, as well as Bangkok (when the airport isn't closed by protesters), Vietnam and Taiwan. It seems like a good fun rivalry.

I'm well pleased to have discovered these like minded individuals here. Although I foresee any lasting bonds and friends, simply having a temporary link to something from home, something so familiar, was nice for a while. I hope to play again next spring when the weather warms up.

Karma Police

Maybe it was because I don't shy from contact coming off the subway, maybe it was because I make too much fun of my workmate Peter. Maybe it was because I didn't donate enough money to the Sichuan Earthquake Relief Fund, or because I deserve to be on Santa's naughty list for all the crap I've complained about in China this year. Whatever the reason, the Karma Police caught up to me this past week - for the first time in the 51 weeks I've been here I caught food poisoning.

I love street food, it is after all the best way I can tell to get inside the soul of a city. I eat it everywhere, and not just in the US: , churros in Spain, pasties in the UK, samosas in Nepal, sushi in Japan, tacos in Mexico, maple syrup in Canada. And here in Shanghai we have treats from dumplings to fried noodles, or the two demons that tag teamed my hardened stomach: a fried bread roll stuffed with veggies, bbq pork and sauces and Japanese squid balls. Oh don't get me wrong, these are delicious - squid balls can change your life - but caveat emptor!

I've never been food sick before, and don't see the need to go into details, but I'll let on that it was unpleasant. I've watched others around me here get sick and somehow thought my iron stomach was tougher, stronger, better than others - it's not. Sure it can do serious damage when it comes to a burrito and Krispe Kream count, but this is a whole different animal. Nobody can avoid food poisoning. In fact there's been an outbreak here - 4 of our foreign teachers have gone down in the past 2 weeks with a case.

But I do have some good news to report: I'm back healthy, pushing, shoving and making fun of Peter.

Sorry for the delay

I've been busy lately. After sitting around here for 11 months I have finally developed a social life, and am not afraid to use it. The sad side of that is that I have less time to blog it seems, but the recent gap has been unacceptable. I haven't been idle. I went to my first ever massage, I made numerous trips to the fake and fabric markets, stocking up for my triumphant returns home. I've gotten into the Christmas spirit - drinking festive drinks and singing festive tunes. I've watched more bootleg movies than you can shake a stick at. This all might seem mundane (it sounds rather mundane to me, I mean, compared to blogging about far off lands children marvel about it sure does), but the point is that I'm having fun and rather enjoying myself most of the time.

After a year here I'm surprised to discover a few things are still the same:

1) The food is still awesome, maybe even better. I know more places to go for good cheap food, so my repertoire of restaurants is even better than ever. Everything from western home cookin' to local street food I wouldn't trust a guests stomach with is just steps from my house, my office or both. I am trying to learn how to cook some of it, because some of it doesn't exist in Boston. Some of it wouldn't pass health code, some of it might be too preparation involved - but that doesn't mean it isn't delicious and still foreign.

2) I love getting off the subway. Maybe I'm a bad person, but when I alight the subway into a throbbing mass of impatient locals I delight in lowering the boom, thrusting the hoards back and plowing my way to freedom, much like a secret service member protecting the President. It's been 11 months, and after the initial shock and chagrin, it's become a joy. I'm pretty sure I'm a bad person.

3) It changes fast here. Dunkin' Dounuts just opened down the street from us. Another subway line is opening soon. We got a Best Buy here too! Maybe its a sad sign, that everywhere in the world is starting to look similar - but I won't complain on Wednesday when Coldstone is passing out free ice cream to celebrate its anniversary.

4) They love western traditions, like Christmas. The stores are flooded with Christmas decorations, maybe not like back home, but they at least try to make it feel like Christmas. Even my office has gotten into the swing of things, replacing the incessant jazz music with a little Christmas jazz music. It makes it easier to live in a country I still don't get.

5) I need to get out. I've never been anywhere for a solid year before, and what a place to choose to spend a solid year. It's been memorable, mostly enjoyable, so enjoyable I've found a reason to go back in January, but for now.... I need a break... before I actually hurt someone getting off the subway.

A Cut Below

Chinese Haircuts Stink. I've come to the conclusion that, for various reasons, Chinese barbers/hairdressers/men scissors cannot cut my hair well. I've now had perhaps 5 haircuts here, and a grand total of 1 was half decent. Did I write months ago extolling the virtues of cheap and wonderful haircuts in China? I was mistaken and take it all back - they are a disaster.

My hair is, superficially, rather similar to that of an average Chinese person. Though mine is brown to their black, both are perfectly straight and straw-like. The difference is that my hair is finer than double parking, where as Chinese people have big, thick strands on their heads. Anyone who quickly looked, or even ran a finger through would likely not notice any difference, but start cutting it and, lo the difference appears. Barbers, thinning my hair as they would for a local with similar hair, leave my scalp exposed, my head cold, and my pride wounded. It's not their fault, per say, because they've likely never cut westerners hair before, but that's not consolation when I'm half-bald and shivering in the cold November air.

Tragic as this may seem, I shall soldier on. I plan to enlist the help of a local Chinese teacher to escribe instructions on a paper for me to pass to my next barber. If they follow the instructions I may leave unscathed. If they don't... it'll grow back and I'll be out all of a buck and a half... plus every hair cut comes with a free massage, so I'll have that going for me.

A City of Cities

A visit to Tokyo is like a visit to a gazillion destinations in one; Tokyo is that diverse. There are the parts of the city where the bright lights shine over the highest of high end fashion (or a few miles away where they shine equally bright over sleazy bars). There are peaceful temples inside luscious parks surrounded by towering sky scrappers. Tokyo has diversity.

I took a day trip up into the mountains north of Tokyo to a town called Nikko (not Mt. Fuji, but 1500 feet above the sea leveled city). This sleepy hamlet is home to magnificent fall scenery as well as a 17th century temple with elaborate decorations. My trip was a joy and an ordeal all at once. It was a joy because, unlike monotonously grey Shanghai, the fall colors were in full bloom worthy to stand beside Walden Pond on Columbus Day. It was an ordeal because suddenly in the mountains, I hadn't prepared for the cold fall air and was shivering for most of the day. Yet I didn't seem to mind, as the stunning temples off-set by the even more stunning natural beauty of the place made the 2 hour train ride worth it (its amazing to stare at some of the finest artistic work man has produced, only to be more struck by the simple change in color of the tree behind it). Tokyo has seasons.

At night I would choose a shopping district and simply wander around, gawking at the billboards, the shops, the people (mostly because they were walking in an orderly fashion and not shoving). The most impressive city sight I saw, indeed one of the most amazing sights I've ever seen, was a place called Shibuya Crossing. This traffic intersection, made famous by Lost in Translation, if it isn't the most crowded pedestrian intersection in the world, it must be darn close. Pictures don't do it justice, I shall have to load a video for you. Tokyo has people.

Matched by few cities in this world, Tokyo is one of the worlds most amazing. Feeling almost like a conglomerate of smaller cities (which indeed, geographically it actually is), Tokyo has more faces than anyone can ever know. And I don't mean that in that there are levels of detritus a fixed to a beautiful core, but that there are a multitude of living viable cultures oozing from Tokyo's heart. I had wanted to go to Tokyo because within the next year I hope to have visited many of Asia's most famous cities and I didn't want to leave it shining emerald, its rising sun if you will, out.

Somewhere.. across the sea.... of Japan!

... and that was Tokyo! I'm fresh back from a 6 day schlomp to (depending on which list you look at), the most populous city in the world. My word it was nice to be back in civilization! The streets were clean (eerily clean actually), the public transit civilized and the prices fixed (so there was no need to put the bargaining skills I've learned to the test). Yes, it was a glorious 6 days spent shivering in the cold, cloudy Japanese metropolis that 20 years ago we thought was about to rule the world. I [heart] Tokyo.

Getting off the plane there were some things that were instantly evident.

1) It was clean. Like, you could eat off the dirt in the city parks clean. I spent my time wondering if all western countries were this clean, or that simply being anywhere outside of China resulted in such a shock to the system that everything LOOKED super clean. I've confided with others and have come to the conclusion that Japan may be the cleanest country I've ever heard of. In the Starbucks (which I frequented... they don't serve Chi Tea Lattes in China, but they do in Japan!), after you finish your drink they ask you to put your plastic lid in one receptacle and the paper cup in another so that they can recycle both. It's best to utilize this waste bin too, because there aren't any on the streets. Seriously, I walked for kilometers on end at times and never came across a single public bin. Yet the city is immaculately clean...

2) The Japanese love bathrooms. Never have I felt as spoiled for clean, free, public bathrooms in my life. They were everywhere; in the subway stations, in the malls, on the side of the road, anywhere! The thought merely had to cross your mind before you could see your urinary salvation. And what bathrooms they were!!! The Japanese have taken the toilet and turned it into an art form. From the moment I stood dumbfounded at the airport bathroom door, I knew they were special there. The seats are not only heated (oh so nice after walking in the brisk, wet, autumn air), but you have the option for water-spray cleaning and air-burst drying (which was too much for me to handle and I quickly stopped my one experiment with the contraption). The attention to detail on these machines, and no where else would I label toilets a machine, clearly demonstrated in what high regard the Japanese hold 'going'.

3) People cared about how they looked; fashion matters. Even in Shanghai, the 'fashionable city' of China, people don't look so good. 90%+ of the men are wearing business suits. It's remarkable, because after a while I began to look closer at these men, the samurai of the 21st century, realizing that although they didn't all have good fashion know how, their shoes wouldn't match their pants, and their tie had no business with the shirt they were wearing, because they were in a suit - they still looked good. This may explain why in my two days back in Shanghai I've worn a suit to the office by choice each day... The women meanwhile utilize all the shopping venues the city has at their disposal, which is many. Everyone looks stylish. I was wearing jeans and a grey top and felt very, very under dressed walking down the street in many parts of town. It's something I feel every city might consider aspiring to... good looking citizens.

4) The food is good. Japanese food is really, really good. Between the sushi, ramen noodles, tepanakki and squid balls (which are delicious, trust me), Japan is an eaters paradise. True you can't get a meal for less than 6 bucks, which when your a poor traveler coming from China is a lot of money, but that doesn't diminish the quality. I raise my chi latte (my drink of choice in Japan) to your cooking, Iron Chef.

Without question there is nowhere like Tokyo. It doesn't feel fair to compare it to my current home, Shanghai, in a face off of eastern cultures, because Tokyo wins so easily, its like if the Brazilian National Soccer team squared off against the Greater Boston All Scholastic team. Tokyo is great in so many places and so many ways, but in the end I found one word sums up the city better than any other: Livable.

Halloween

Another year, another Halloween, one of the great silly social holidays of the calendar year (up there with St. Patrick's Day, Valentine's Day and New Years). Perhaps not surprisingly this is an almost entirely American holiday (the British and Australian teachers all throw their hands up and claim not to have celebrated it back home). Understandably, it has been very slow to take hold here in China - red and orange rarely look good together.

Many of our students are curious about the holiday. We've gotten every sort of question ranging from trick-or-treating to costume choices to jack-0-lanterns. Only one subject seems not to interest the students, more out of genuine fright on the behalf of many, and that is the subject of ghost stories. More of our students than I would have guessed believe in ghosts, so stories about spirits make them especially scared.

If you're wondering, I'll be going tonight as a 'local Chinese person'. I have a pair of thick black glasses, with the lenses popped out, a tight 'I [heart] China' T-shirt and a pair of black high-top Converse All-Stars. I'm expecting it to be a hit, and yes, that's pretty standard Shanghainese wear. Happy Halloween!

Gone with the Schwinn

Mentioning China will conjure images of bicycles not seen since 1950's Italy, floods upon floods of pedal powered vehicles lined up in massive public squares. Even 8 years ago when I came there were street lanes devoted exclusively to these dusty, rusty, two-wheeled devices. Today these lanes still exist, but the steady flow of bicycles has ceased. As China modernizes no one has the time or energy to pedal their way through life, opting instead for bigger, newer, faster and decidedly less quaint means of transport.

The ratio of mopeds and scooters to bikes must be near one to one. I'd bet there are still more bikes, but the darn mopeds zip in and out of traffic, take up so much more space and make so much more noise they're darn hard to ignore. Speeding along the edges of roads, where the pedestrians cling to the safety of the nearby sidewalk, these speed demons announce their approach by blasting a loud, and often shrill horn, not just once, but repeatedly and in rapid secession until they've passed. It doesn't matter if you see them coming and choose to step off the road, they still honk just to be sure you weren't thinking of stepping back too soon. This noise and ever present danger make the scooters much more visible, and annoying, than the bikes will ever be.

The dwindling number of pollution free bikes, coupled with the growing number of scooters and automobiles (1000 new cars hit Chinese roads every day, how's that for a statistic!), might make an environmentalist white and provide easy fodder for any China basher, but the story isn't that simple I'm afraid. The public transportation system here in Shanghai is already more developed than any city in America save perhaps New York and Chicago, and they're in the process of building 10 brand new subway lines. Without a doubt the creation of affordable public transportation has eased China's bike ways, putting more people on trains and less on their own two wheels. Besides, China still has less cars per person than America does. Although I agree it is sad to see a traditional and environmental form of transportation fall by the wayside, we can't expect people to forgo comforts that most of the western world refuses to forgo as well.

As iconic as the bike is in China, it's best days are behind it. China's world is growing too much and too fast for the little thing to keep up. They'll never disappear, what with special bike lanes and stop lights just for them, but they'll never be what they were again. A very small minority of westerners have adopted the bike culture into their daily lives here in China, but personally I was too darn scared of biking with the crazy Chinese motorists nearby, which is a sentiment I imagine many young Chinese might agree with. So if you come to China, don't expect fields of bicycles to greet you - expect Honda scooters and Volkswagen taxis.

Beijing Opera, er, Rock the Vote!

Yesterday I took a morning trip down to the US consulate in Shanghai to drop off my absentee ballot for (free!) FedEx delivery to the Lexington Town Clerk's office. I can't say the line was short (took me a forty five minutes because I was in with the citizens who had real problems), but if the US government is going to pick up the tab to express my vote home, why not let 'em? Most of the other Americans in the office have either already voted, or are still awaiting their ballots to send back home, but I wouldn't call our office a buzz of political excitement.

Although there is a strong liberal leaning in the office, complete with widespread watching of 'The Daily Show', my school will not be voting exclusively for Obama. Somehow a republican managed to get a passport, much less a visa, and is teaching in my school in China. As you might imagine, in a country known for sudden disappearances of political dissidents, he keeps his conservative beliefs muzzled.

In fact, aside from the occasional jib here and there, it would be a little difficult to tell the political leaning of our office. I attribute it to the general gag order placed on us teachers over anything vaguely political in our class rooms spilling over into the teachers office. Half our teaching team is native Chinese and, although they are all extremely open minded people, nobody wants to overly state any positions which a co-worker may find offensive.

Still the students are curious, with open elections being so foreign to them. Sure they claim they have elections just like us, but the reality and the impact of the two elections is so different, its like rice and potatoes. While US elections discuss issues and generate smear campaigns with massive public and private funding going to generate ads to inform every individual, Chinese elections focus on promises like, "increasing harmony, development and well being" but failing to mention any sort of specifics on how they plan to do this. It's not an election year here in China (it rarely is), so I can't comment on any first hand knowledge, but judging from my students knowledge and involvement in politics, I struggle to believe they are ever qualified to make informed and knowledgeable decisions which can effect any sort of predictable change.

In the end, I almost wonder if the students are more interested in American politics than their own. They are, after all, allowed to be critical of American politicians, and disagree with positions (who could disagree with, "increasing harmony and well being?"). This, however has mirrored a lot of what I've seen in China: a greater curiosity in western culture than their own. This may explain why I passed seven (7! I counted!) Starbucks on the one and a half mile walk from the consulate to my office. The world will eagerly watch over the next few years to see if the fascination with all things western extend to the political arena as well.

Quomolongma

The list of geological features in this world that we expect every man, woman and child on this planet to have heard of is quite short: the Sahara Desert, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, the Grand Canyon and for good measure we'll add the Amazon to that list. Mt. Everest, or Qomolongma as the Tibetans say, is also on that list, as the tallest mountain in the world. I saw it.

I recall as a child looking at a 3-D topographic map of the world, running my fingers of the tiny orange and yellow bumps that denoted mountain ranges in the US and Europe. On the other side of the map was a block of white, the only block of white on the whole map really, which represented the Himalayas, and everyone knew the name of the biggest bump. Mount Everest, and the entire Himalayas have existed in my mind as something I know exists, but had always seemed more like a scientific fact than a real place you could actually see. Yet if you're willing to ride along the bumpy, dusty, unpaved roads over the mountain passes of central Tibet, it just sits there, waiting to be seen.

Approached from Tibet (which is much easier than approaching from Nepal), the mountain lies at the end of a long canyon, at the far end of a large nature preserve, at the far end of the world. Not noticeably higher than other mountains in the region, nor vastly prettier (they're all snow capped mountains, so what more do you want?), Mount Everest somehow awes the viewer, commanding any onlooker to contemplate his or her place in the world. Perhaps knowing it was the tallest mountain influenced my thinking, but thousands of years before I had arrived the Tibetans had given it a name meaning "Goddess of the Earth", so I don't think I'm the first person to stand at a loss for words for this mountain.

I could tell you about the monastery at the foot of the great hill, or the tents we stayed in that night, but compared to staring at one of the things on 'the list', staring at a thing completely stationary for hours on end, none of the other things are all that memorable. The only movement is in the clouds, which blow on and off the summit at an alarming rage. When we summited a mountain pass where we should have been able to see the mountain from, but we greeted with heavy cloud cover, my heart sank. Then, after 2 hours driving closer and closer, we rounded a bend to discover the great mound staring back at us, surrounded by baby blue sky. The rest of the day involved the mountain playing peek-a-boo with us until, after an exhausting mile and a half stroll, darkness claimed the mountain back.

If all my pictures look pretty much the same, its because they are. I've found when I'm unable to capture the beauty or awe of a location in a single picture, I'll try to make up for it with a greater quantity of pictures, which explains why I have about 70 near identical pictures of this great pile of rocks.

I guess the most surprising thing I found was how easy it was to get there, to the big white bump on the map. In some ways it feels like checking off something on a to do list (perhaps because this was indeed an item they came up with in the movie "The Bucket List"). No matter how or why you get there, it's an impressive mountain to see.

At a close, I wanted to mention that my Red Sox were just eliminated from the playoffs in game 7 by the Tampa Bay Rays. I'd been coming in early, listening to the games online, but today when my parents called on Skype, offering to point their laptop at the TV so I could watch the game, I was thrilled and privileged to see at least one baseball game this year live. Chatting with my parents as the game went on (lamenting that Pedroia didn't bunt in the 8th), it was as close an experience as you can have to watching the game with family while still being separated by most of the Northern Hemisphere. The Sox lost and their season is done, but at least they went out fighting.

Senseless Beauty

Tibet, the roof of the world, has a landscape that might not seem out of place on the moon. It's a hauntingly beautiful place, filled with spectacles of wondrous beauty, but also a place which seems so lifeless that it lacks the usual call of the wild - for someone who loves camping, I was surprised to find myself more than content to rumble along the dirt roads in the back of a Land Rover. Yet despite being a less than ideal place to plant your rhododendron, the landscape is awe inspiring. In business they say, "do one thing and do it well". Tibet's landscape does three: Lakes, Mountains, People.

Leaving Lhasa on the scenic rout our tour was ushered past two of the most beautiful lakes I've ever laid eyes on. Climbing over our first mountain pass, we were greeted with a view on the other side of Yamdrok Lake, one of Tibet's four holy lakes. Sitting on a yak at the top of the pass, looking down over the lake, I realized the lake is more blue than any other water I've ever seen. A deep turquoise blue, the water changes colors as the sun and clouds play on it. Continuing along we came across another lake, this time a man-made lake, built up by the hydroelectric dam downstream. Usually I'm opposed to the formation of dams, but this lake's color can only be described as stunning. I'm worried people won't believe my pictures aren't photo shopped when I show them. We walked up (getting rather breathless from the altitude) a little hill on an outcropping which separates the lake into two halves. I could have spent hours there, watching the clouds move across the water beneath me. I don't know why the lakes are that color, likely bacteria, or minerals or old Tibetean magic, but whatever the reason I don't really want to know. Tibet might not be a land rich in natural colors, but I'm happy to remember the color it does have, a stunningly vibrant blue.

But what Tibet is known for, as the roof of the world, is it's mountains: the incomparable Himalayas. As an American, I'm not used to measuring height in meters, plus 8000 meters (or 8840 meters - the height of Everest). This, coupled with standing atop mountain passes at 5000 meters, make it very hard to contemplate just how high these mountains are. But yet looking at these mountains, covered in snow, rising above the rocky, brown fields, they command a respect, exuding a prestige, which somehow reminds all who look upon them that these mountains are so much higher than any of their brethren around the world. These mountains are not kind, soft or cuddly. Starting above the treeline they seem to rise more sharply, more purposefully than other mountains - the creation of the violent collision between India and China (is there a metaphor there?). If we could attribute Tibet's beauty to one thing, it is these mountains, stretching closer to the heavens than anything else on earth.

Then again, Tibet is one of the joyful places in the world where humans have had a positive effect on the landscape - sometimes. Without fail, at the most beautiful locations throughout the region people have distributed and strung brightly colored prayer flags. As the foreground to the breathtaking scenery, the prayer flags inject much needed color into the otherwise plain (perhaps even at times bleak) landscape. The little houses with whitewashed walls still smack of authenticity and simplicity, seemingly oblivious to the skyscrapers which dominate the rest of China. Ruins even litter the landscape, remains of forts, buildings and structures occupied by nomads and lords of bygone eras. My guide never could pinpoint the exact date of these ancient looking structures, perhaps which made them all the more mystifying in my mind. Yet, let me not proclaim all the actions of humans in Tibet beneficial. I often saw garbage and debris littering the yards of the quaint little houses. Over time, the prayer flags fade, looking more like rubbish than holy instruments. Yamdrok Lake is slowly being drained for hydroelectric power. Can Tibet preserve it's beauty under China's 'modernize or else' watch? I can only hope.

I've never been anywhere like Tibet before. The vegetation is sparse, the land nearly unlivable, the air thin and the winters cold, but that doesn't stop it from holding a magical feeling over its visitors. The sky is blue, just like it's water, and the mountains are always covered in snow. Perhaps better suited for a Salvidor Dali painting than this earth, Tibet's beauty is steadfastly unique.

Sinocize

Tibet is part of China. Regardless of whether you think that's right or fair, it's true and it's not changing anytime soon. We can be outraged at the way China treats the area, and we can be outraged by the way it came into China's possession, but in the end its as unrealistic to protest to free Tibet as it is to protest to free the Seminoles - its a little late and its not going to change anything. Instead I think we're better off learning about the topic, something I found is strangely easier to do in China than I thought.

The first thing everyone needs to understand in America is that we've all been brainwashed. It's true. We like to think that with our free speech and open information we all have the ability to hold unbiased opinions, and while I agree we are more disposed to holding unbiased opinions, we far too often don't. As much as I hate to admit it, when it comes to China there is a western media bias. Now it certainly isn't as bad as the Chinese media's bias, and most of the terrible things they report about China are true, but there is also a distinct lack of respect given to any positive strides China takes which in my book is the equivalent of Fox's 1990's 'it bleeds it leads' approach. Its possible for us to breakthrough this mindset, but only if we're aware of it.

We also need to examine what state Tibet was in before the Chinese invaded. Tibet was a strict religious state with controlling systems similar to that of feudal Europe. In short; lots of people were slaves. I didn't know this until I came to China, but it's true. The US seems to loath religious states (except for Israel), so our love affair with this one certainly seems odd and out of place. The fact that slaves did exist in Tibet in 1950 is not only shocking, but justifies how China can look at itself as a liberator of the region.

Nor has China idly been sitting by, letting Tibet rot. The Chinese have built airports, train lines, roads (although if you saw the road running to the Nepalese boarder, you might think they need to step up their efforts). They've built tunnels and bridges and provided much of the region with electricity. I have no doubt without Chinese help Tibet wouldn't be anywhere near as advanced as it is today.

But this is not to say that China is some sort of savior in Tibet. The Cultural Revolution was especially hard on Tibet, as countless statues and artifacts were destroyed in an attempt to smash the religious fascination that grips the region. More recently, these influx of developments have been seen as an affront to Tibetan culture, with hydroelectric dams being built on the most holy lakes and sweeping boulevards laid down through the center of old cities. The Chinese even built a giant square with a horrendously ugly monument to the people directly across from the Potala Palace, stamping an unmistakable 'this is China' claim in the neighborhood.

The advances of business have largely been profitable to mainland Chinese, transplants from other provinces, creating a class like division among the people. Instead of benefiting the local Tibetans, most of the new business and development has been targeted at boosting the economic standing of the migrant Chinese to the region. Understandably there is disgust between the two populations of Tibet, and neither side is innocent. Many of the Chinese immigrants were poor laborers from other parts of the country looking for a better life, but that doesn't stop Tibetans from occasionally violently causing damage to property and lives, aggression which is naturally confronted with brute (and often excessive) force from the Chinese government.

Walking the streets of the old town of Tibet, patrols of soldiers armed with riot gear and automatic weapons pass like clockwork every 3 minutes. It seems an inordinate amount of 'peace keepers' with an inordinate supply of weaponry for an area not at war. If you look at the bottom left of this picture, you'll see the gentlemen I'm referring to. The soldiers look young, no older than 20 years old, standing among hoards of unarmed civilians while they tote machine guns and riot batons. It feels uncomfortably wrong.

China isn't going to leave Tibet. Hoping otherwise seems to be a silly expectation. What we can hope for is that China can treat Tibet, and the Tibetan Culture with the respect it deserves. That means developing Tibetan businesses, not desecrating holy sites and removing soldiers from the streets. Oh, and being able to take a little criticism and protests without going postal on us might help.

A Palace fit for a King

Perched on a rocky upcraging in the middle of the city, standing as a constant reminder of Tibet's culture and, to many, it's struggles, is the Potala Palace (not to be confused with the Polenta Palace, a great northern Italian restaurant on 5th and Main). The building holds itself 13 stories high, but resting on the only rocky upwelling in the otherwise flat river valley the palace appears to be a 30, which for a building largely erected in the 1600's makes it the original skyscraper. Inside, the building houses a stunning collection of Buddhas, Mandalas and countless reliquaries stocked with dazzling delights. My visit was a glimpse into one of the fascinating times when a society rallied around a common cause during a time of prosperity to create something lasting and beautiful.

The most impressive part of the compound, the Red Palace, was constructed to house the numerous relics, tombs and texts of the Dali Lamas. The centerpiece of the structure is a grand meeting hall, where the Dali Lama could meet with a large collection of monks. Interestingly, most of these large halls were much darker than I expected, lit only from above on perhaps two sides, as there were no windows at ground level.

Other rooms house hundreds of small statues, donated by the people of Tibet for hundreds of years. The immense wealth of the Dali Lama and his government (most of the statues in the Palace were carted away by the Chinese when they invaded in 1949, only a fraction of the original treasure remains), was almost exclusively donated by the people of Tibet as a means of resolving family disputes. Rather than giving a precious stone or sculpture to one son instead of another, Tibetans would give any precious artifacts to the temples and monasteries when they died. As an added bonus if someone prayed to Buddha using the statue you gave, some of the prayers would rub off on you too!

Yet the finest display of the accumulated wealth was in the burial stupas (tombs) of the 5th-9th Dali Lamas. These tombs, roughly contemporary to Napoleon's in Europe (the earliest, biggest and most impressive was constructed about 1690), are the most elaborate funerary structures I've ever seen. Towers of gilded gold covered in rare and precious stones stand upon golden lion-like demons, housing the remains of these holy men. Truly wondrous burial monuments are rare in this world, but this palace holds some of them. The picture here isn't from the Potala Palace, because photography is forbidden, but is instead the stupa of the 10th Panchen Lama in the Tashilhunpo Monastary in Shigatse.

Across from the Red Palace is the White Palace, or the living quarter of the Dali Lama. Though only a small portion is open for viewing, visitors are afforded the chance to see the reception room, where the Dali Lama would receive visitors and confer with is officials. The room is splashed with colors everywhere, from the paintings on the support beams to the brightly colored prayer cushions to the bright yellow hat which sits waiting for the Dali Lama's return. The crowds shuffle through the room, pushing ever onward (as the Chinese are wont to do) without offering the faculty to look around and admire the incredible detail and beauty the room bestows. It is one of the rare rooms we stand in knowing full well that important events in history were decided at our feet.

The palace is a beautiful place, its white and red walls towering above the city. It is market by a combination of history, which surrounds every room, and intense relevance evidenced by the pilgrims who still bring yak butter to fill the candles in the chapels with on their pilgrimage to Lhasa. From the first time I'd ever seen it on TV, watching a documentary of the far off wonders of the world, I was fascinated by the awesome aura that seemed to be emitted by the building, which I now feel fortunate enough to have seen first hand.

You must be Jokhang

Lhasa is divided into two main sections - the Chinese half and the Tibetan half. At the center of the Tibetan half is the Jokhang Temple, the most holy site in all the land. Encircling this temple is the Barkhor, or the pilgrimage path traveled by hundreds of devout Tibetans each and every day. Finally, radiating out in a maze of alleyways is the old town of Lhasa. When walking these streets, I rediscovered a strange feeling that rarely found anywhere else in China (no it wasn't just the shock of seeing scores of roaming soldier brigades armed with riot gear and machine guns strolling through the neighborhood). I felt like I was somewhere that had an old storied culture.

With sturdy buildings, looking like they expect to be there for years, uniformly whitewashed and towering above the narrow streets lined with shops, stalls, pilgrims and tourists, the city felt like it had a purpose. Bustling with vendors (and soldiers) the streets were a maze of goodies, giving way from tourist wares to practical items the further the distance from the Jokhang Temple. I saw dozens of watches soaking in basins of water - to prove they're water proof. I saw giant wedges of yak butter, waiting for the devout pilgrims to purchase a chunk to offer in the temple. I saw the people of Tibet encircling and prostrating before the temple, waiving thier prayer wheels and purifying their sins. Eastern Lhasa is a city full of life, a city caught between Capitalism and Buddhism, which is why it is so fascinating.

The two simple pleasures I enjoyed most in Lhasa were the tea houses and the pool tables. Scattered throughout the old town like pebbles thrown in a lake, the tea houses were little more than dark empty rooms filled with benches and a TV. The seats nearly all faced the screen, and for 1RMB you could get a glass of sweet milk tea, a much better price than Starbucks, but the wireless internet was a bit spotty in some of the shops (I'm kidding some of them didn't even have lights). Most eyes were glued to the terribly old kung-fu movies they showed; one tea house was showing what must have been Jackie Chan's first film, another an even stranger movie about kung-fu fighting underwater pigs. Of course the movies were in Chinese and without any sort of English subtitle, so I can only guess what they were talking about. But the clear indication from every one of these tea houses i visited (i perused no less than 3 of them during my time there), was that a westerner coming into their humble shop was not an everyday occurrence, yet again nothing they hadn't seen before. Perhaps having dodgy milk tea in an dirty cafe in Lhasa wasn't the best idea for my stomach, but the place had character, which is all you need to tell me.

The other simple joy in Lhasa were the pool tables outside the Sera Monastery. If you've ever seen the debating monks on TV, this is the place they do it (though sadly not so much anymore after the government crackdown on the number of monks in Lhasa after last March's events). Yet humorously enough perched outside this temple is a string of pool tables under a summer's party tent. After consulting that the price was fair - 1RMB/game, or the cost of a cup of tea, we decided to play a few games in the afternoon sun in front of the holy monastery. Alas I believe the monks had to prepare for prayers, and I somehow doubt they'd have been pool players anyway. The tables might not have been perfect, and the direction of the ball off the bumpers was anything but predictable, but we muddled through to win a grand time. I highly encourage outdoor pool and wonder why it hasn't been exported back to the US.

Lhasa, at least the old half, is a charming city. As the religious center of one of the most religious countries, regions, whatever you will, it exudes a cohesion of purpose that few other cities in the world can match. Though I certainly fear, like most great cultural landmarks, that the old town will be come more Disneyland than Holy Land, but for now, thanks to the unending river of pilgrims to the Barkhor, the city's culture lives on.

Rome of the East

Lhasa is kind of like Rome, but for Tibetan Buddhists - the city eats, sleeps and breathes its religion. Although not the sight of any great religious events, Lhasa is beyond question the home to the holy sights and centralized institutions that fuel religion in the region. In Tibetan Buddhism (refereed to simply as 'Buddhism' from here on, I can't be bothered to keep writing it out) there are three main types of holy structures - monasteries, temples and palaces. Although Lhasa houses 2 of perhaps the 3 most important monasteries in the country, it's the other buildings that set it apart: the Potala Palace, imperial home of the Dali Lama, and the Joakin Temple, the most holy site in all of Tibet.

The monasteries, founded in the 14th century under the 2nd Dali Lama, house the monks and are the center of religious teaching for the region. Monks come to learn from greater monks, study the holy scriptures and then return to their outlying villages to guild others and practice Buddhism. Most of the red-robed men seen running through the streets and buildings of the monasteries are not yet monks - a monk must meditate in singular silence for 3 years, 3 months and 3 days (or about 3 years, 3 months, 2 days and 23 1/2 hours longer than I'd make it), before they are ordained as full monks.

As far as I learned, Buddhist teachings can cover broad ideas of life, yet are quite simple in many ways. When praying, a person is not to pray for individuals, such as an ailing relative, but rather for the survival of all living things because all souls are equal and shouldn't be rank ordered. I find this idea extremely noble and amazingly worldly, yet extremely difficult to fulfill when I attempted to practice it - inevitably I found my mind relapsing to thoughts of friends and loved ones. Other beliefs come off as easier to understand. When praying, a Buddhist will often, with hands steeped, touch their forehead, lips and chest before kneeling (or prostrating) to bow. This is to purify the mind, words and body; ideas that are echoed in the holy items found in all temples: praying to statues for the body, scriptures for the words and mandalas (circular sand artwork is an example of these) for the mind. I find, coming from a Christian background, that the desire to purify mind, body and speech can easily be translatable to most religions.

Fortunately for me, my guide Jimmy, was born and raised a Tibetan Buddhist. He carries a locket with his masters picture around his neck. He doesn't eat meat (it involves killing souls) and he didn't want to lie to us (he told us not to buy anything at the store the tour went to because it was a bad value). He was the perfect guide to teach me all about the fascinating religion. After learning at his feet for a few days, I can understand why it's allure entices many minds, both western and eastern, to study and practice it.

2 for 1

And I'm back from my 10 day trek through the Himalayas! I never thought I'd be so excited to be returning to mainland China, but after any long, tiring vacation I guess we all want to go home, or at least somewhere relaxing and familiar. A bonus I completely overlooked about my trip was that by visiting both Tibet and Nepal, it was like 2 vacations in one - the countries are very different geologically, culturally and socially.

The biggest shocker was how different the landscapes of the two countries looked. In the fall Tibet's valleys, which can be lush and green, are broad swaths of golden barley hay, harvested into piles, while at higher elevations omnipresent dust dominates all it touches (which is everything). I've seen Tibet described as a 'surreally beautiful place', and I couldn't agree more - its mountains are beautiful and majestic, supported by brightly colored prayer flags of the Buddhist Tibetan people, but aside from those awe-inspiring towers of rock and snow - the landscape is bleak and desolate.

Nepal, meanwhile, is greener than the Saudi flag. Seriously, after you pass out of the mountains and descend on the windward side of the great Himalayas, the landscape is bathed in green plants of every sort and type, it's a legitimate rainforest. This greenery, heightened by Tibet's sheer lack of living plants, is a refreshing relief after the dusty dirt roads of the mountain passes.

The cultures of the two countries are different too. Tibet, although independent for many years, has received Chinese influence for much of its existence (including it's introduction to Buddhism in part). Nepal, meanwhile has been influenced by India and Great Britain as an extension. The difference is obvious in building style, personal appearance and even signage - most of which are in English in Kathmandu, where as its much more mixed in Lhasa.

Even though they touch, these two countries have been largely separate for most of their existence, even today there is only one long dusty dirt road that connects the two countries. They grew up differently and, unexpectedly at least to me, remain very different to this day.

Up, Up, and Arrive

Tomorrow morning I leave for a 10 day tour through Tibet. I'll fly into Lhasa, travel westward across the Tibetan Plateau to Mt. Everest before crossing into Nepal, from where I will return home out of Kathmandu. If the altitude sickness doesn't get me, maybe the cumulative 24+ hours I'm going to spend in a jeep will, but none of that matters if the scenery is what I'm hoping for. So tomorrow I fly to Lhasa, and you know what they say about flying into Lhasa? It's the only airport in the world where you fly up to land.

My students have had very mixed reactions when I say I'm going to Tibet. Some of them become jealous and excited, wanting to travel there themselves. Most remain quiet, reactionless, either unsure of where I'm going (in Chinese it's called XiZang), or tellingly silent about their concerns, which are vocalized by the final group. These students are concerned, telling me to be safe, warning me that people might try to shoot me. At first I was baffled, thinking there isn't much crime in Tibet. But then I realized they meant the protesters and the riots which happened last spring. In the interest of diplomacy I didn't tell them I'm more worried about the Chinese Government than the Buddist monks, that one of the most dangerous thing I could do would be to take a simple picture of a protester - and this on a trip where I'll be passing through the worlds largest mountains. So I simply thanked the students for their cares and advice, assuring them that I wasn't worried about the Tibetan people, displaying a cavalier confidence my students evidently didn't match.

More concerned about the weather than either the natives or the authorities, I'll be flying a little further than I would on a flight from Boston to Denver, and into a province three times the size of Texas. It's the heart of the Himalayas, so I plan find out just how these mountains stack up to this world's other mountain ranges. What better place to do that than from the monastery at Everest Base Camp where I will be staying for a night. My bags (and camera) are packed, I'm ready to go and I'm so excited.

What's 700 billion among friends?

If you think the US stock market has taken a hit... just take a look at China's; now this is a 'house of cards' economy. Down about 50% from last year, the Chinese stock market has not been kind to its investors, but just as many Americans are unsure of how and why we got into this economic crises, most Chinese people are even more bewildered.

China, claiming only a partial capitalist economy, isn't the best place to learn about all investment options we're used to in the west. Most of my students understand that something bad is happening with the world economy, and somehow America is to blame, but without knowing the specifics of why or how.

This isn't to say my students aren't effected, because they are. It's easy to tell which students have money in the stock market these days - they're usually the well dressed, sad looking men with the glazed look in their eyes. I had a student last week, when we were doing a lesson on cause and effect say (in dead seriousness), "I lost 700,000RMB ($100,000) this month as a result of the stock market going down." I was thrilled (because he used the correct grammar), but horrified because that's more money than I'd make here in 5 years! My students understand that this effects them, even if explaining what a sub-prime mortgage is would take half a days work.

But they understand 'the government is giving money'. I don't know how they feel about this, because they always say it with a smile, as if it were a good thing. They might be thinking that the US government will finally ride in on a white horse to save the world economy, or then again they might be thinking that this just proves that our unbridled laissez faire economics are a failure, and that China's pseudo-capitalism is better. Whichever it is, I can almost assure you that most are more worried about how this effects them individually, rather than the economic fall out throughout China, let alone the rest of the world.

Not being an economic super-strategist (I'm an English teacher for crying out loud!), I can't say I have a full grasp on the entirety of the situation. I can make my fair share of speculations, most of them ill-informed to simply wrong. So for now, I guess I can just be happy that all the money I lost this month in China was at the travel agent.

Cool Fuzz

Goose-stepping goons, eager to haul prisoners off to bottomless dungeons, is what i usually think of when I think of Chinese Police. Of course this idea isn't helped by my knowledge of China's last 50 years of history and knowing that the Chinese police force, like many around the world, doesn't draw on the best and the brightest, but more of a brotherhood of would be thugs who turned better, but maybe not so far as good. This notion is one I try very hard to dissuade, because I've had nothing but (a limited) number of positive interactions with these men and women in blue.

One night, after the 'Roller Disco' - a night of roller skating, dancing, socializing and an open bar (all for about 20 bucks), we found ourselves out late further on the outskirts of the city than we normally do and a little more short on cash than we'd normally like. We weren't in a bad part of the city, far from it, but after an exhausting night of fun, we were a little wary of trekking around to find a 24 hour ATM to stock up on cash before our taxi ride home. We decided to ask the cops outside the disco where the nearest ATM was, and to our surprise they told us to hop in the back of the cab and we'd take them there. So, there I was with my two fellow discoers, riding in the back of a Shanghai cop car, being driven to an ATM by two really friendly police officers. The cynic out there might say they wanted to take us somewhere far from the city and shake us down for money, but that wasn't the case. They dropped us off at the ATM and only left once we'd returned outside and thanked them and had flagged a taxi. I can't imagine an officer in the US being so kind to some foreigners leaving a club.

So I try to be positive about the Chinese police. The most annoying thing I've noticed is that they always ride around with their lights flashing, always! Occasionally I'll hear about a foreigner who was assaulted by an off duty cop, then forced to pay reparations, and students will sometimes mention that the cops are not to be trusted, but my few experiences have been much more positive than others it seems. Life is certainly more relaxed when you can believe the police are on your side.

Children in the Forest of Knees

Perhaps due to the tight-knit family units, or perhaps due to their claim on a fifth of the world's population, I see lots of children of divers ages here in Shanghai. Unlike my 4 years at BC, where the sight of children was both shocking and exciting, I've found China to be full of the lil' folk. They stumble about with their mother's and nannies (aiees) through the shops and subways, getting in everyone's way - which is the same as every Chinese person, so the kids here must learn quick! In fact, the kids here are so good at getting in other people's way that they wont even acknowledge that they do!

Too many times I've been walking along, minding my surroundings (not on subway attack mode) when a child will blindly stumble from behind is parents into my path. These children, as all children are, are unpredictable, so I'll stop and stand patiently while the little tike decides which way he wants to walk around me. What's surprising is watching the child's thought process as he tries to reunite with his parents.

He will never look up; he will never make eye contact or acknowledge me as a human being. I am a pair of legs, which usually must be touched on the knee for a short but noticeable second long examination. After a the short review, and after the child has determined I am not his mother, father or aiee, the child begins to look around and through my legs, searching for his caretakers. Being only 2 seconds beyond him, and no doubt waiting for him to stop messing around with the goofy looking foreigner, his parents are soon spotted and the family is reunited.

This isn't the reaction I'm used to, nor was this the reaction I received from children in Hong Kong, who were more likely to look up surprised, sheepish and curious, as western children are known to do. The children of China are different though, somehow either more sure of themselves or less curious about others. I don't think I'll ever know what to make of it.

The last bit about children, that didn't strike me until I landed in Hong Kong is... that there is only ever one. Sure you see teenagers roaming together and collegiate types storming the malls, but parents with families of two are nearly invisible. They're there, the one child rule doesn't effect nearly 1/4 of the Chinese population, but they're mostly the rural minorities out in the countryside. Here in Shanghai we take it one child at a time - one child very uninterested in whose legs he just crashed into.

Mecca... for shopping... for women

Far and away the most common question I received when I told people last week I was heading to Hong Kong was, "Are you going to go shopping?" Well, seeing as I was traveling with a little lady, there most certainly was shopping time budgeted, even if I was pretty sure I wouldn't be doing much of the shopping. Hong Kong may be a little island of western products amid the sea of Chinese imitations, but the real stars of Hong Kong (the things cheaper than on the mainland) are the cosmetics, shoes and electronics - two of which I had zero interest in, and I lacked the cash for the third.

In the end we 'budgeted' our third and final day for shopping - a whole day just for shopping would seem like enough! Yet once we factored meals, our flight time, sleeping in after two exhausting days and a quick 20 minutes spent viewing sky scrappers, our shopping time was reduced to a matter of hours, much to the chagrin of my girlfriend.

We trekked uptown in Kowloon to find what is apparently 'the market' for shopping, bypassing two or three other street markets (which admittedly didn't look as good). It was about two solid blocks of shops lining the streets with another row of shops actually sitting in the street the entire way. They sold most any knickknack you could imagine they'd sell - shoes, bags, clothing, pots 'n' pans, children's toys, ipod covers, and kitchen mops.

In the end we bought a little of everything, just because that's what you do in Hong Kong. We made sure to buy our skincare products there, because everything in the mainland is chock full of whitening agents (it's rumored the Chinese first thought Casper was a deity... just kidding). Us westerners prefer the tanned look, so to be safe we need to buy everything we put on our faces outside of Chinese China. But even with our shopping bonanza of an afternoon, I still don't get credit for leaving enough time for shopping.

Where there is money, there is shopping; and in Hong Kong there's both.

Into the Wild

Though Hong Kong has a skyline and harbor (3rd busiest in the world) to compete with anywhere, what sets it apart for me is that nature creeps right up to its doorstep. Towering above every sky scrapper was a mountain of unbroken greenery. It's impressive enough that over 70% percent of Hong Kong to be wilderness, but it's another thing altogether when you realize that so much of it is accessible for hiking, picnicking and relaxing. In my three days there I managed to stumble out into it twice, a pretty good average considering I've seen 'nature' once in the 9 months I've lived in Shanghai. I'd say its just a day trip away, but it isn't even that far.

Our first day we took a 30 minute ferry ride (worth it for the view of the skyline alone) to Lamma Island, a small fishing island on the backside of the main harbor. Costing $4 round trip, I can't imagine a cheaper escape anywhere in America. We arrived at a small village on one side of the island, resembling the type you'd find on Martha's Vineyard or any other small vacation island, complete with funky little shops and oceanfront restaurants. After walking through this little town, we abandoned our plan to trek the 90 minutes or so through the jungle to the other village, instead choosing to walk the 15 or so minutes to a nearby beach, soaking our feet in the warm tropical water, and basking in the warmth of the sun as it set behind the power plant at the far end of the island (I never said Hong Kong was perfect). Given the price, the journey, and the absolute feeling of being outside of a city, I'd recommend anyone who ever visits Hong Kong take a day trip here - or even an afternoon trip.

The next morning we signed up for one of the Hong Kong Tourist Bureau guided tours - a 5 hour jaunt into the New Territories towards the Chinese boarder. For many visitors the highlight is seeing the Chinese boarder, while they wonder what rights they would be sacrificing if they crossed it. For two old, China-hands, we knowingly yawned and tried not to fall asleep in the middle of our 2nd exhausting day of touring. We had gone as far away from the city of Hong Kong as we could, and were beginning to gaze upon Shenzen, the boarder city of China when we were treated to the most inspiring bit of nature I saw all weekend.

The tour led us to a steep, green tropical valley, stopping along one of the many scenic parks in the back country of Hong Kong. The sight was called Bridal Falls and was home to a small, but very pretty waterfall. The water was trickling it's way down the valley to the giant reservoir basin at the bottom, scenic as any small waterfall I'd seen in Yellowstone. Little, natural, tropical waterfalls exist in Hong Kong.

Proximity to nature isn't something I've ever come to expect from cities. Maybe my friends in Portland or Seattle might have a different take on things, but for a city of its size (Hong Kong is home to more people than Massachusetts) having such unspoiled natural wonders so close is a wonder to me. I don't know if its suitable for whitewater kayaking or overnight mountain backpacking, but I can't help but appreciate a city, especially a city in China now, which takes such good care of its environment.

Its a vertical thing

The best way to describe the architecture in Hong Kong is to say this: The longer you look at it, the better it becomes. Hong Kong has so many wonderful buildings, the tend to get lost among one another, with only a few standing out bold (or high) enough to make you notice them. In fact they are building the worlds soon to be 3rd tallest building in the world, but it won't even make a dent on the skyline because its across the harbor in Kowloon. More so than any other city on earth, this is an architecture lover's dream.

We were lucky enough to take a ferry out of the city by daylight, only to return by night when the buildings were all the more stunning. During the day the buildings blend together, almost like Chinese people pushing in line to be viewed first. In daylight the tallest ones, IFC2 and the Bank of China building, stand out, but for the most part they all resemble one another, housing the millions of people who live there, or housing their offices. Then at night, the contrast between average and stupendous is set off, and the skyline reveals its true colors.

The buildings of the city work like a team, or perhaps a dance company to create such a stunning skyline. There are the superstars, the buildings stretching taller, with more lights and more elaborate edifices. There are the primadonnas, nothing special except for the intense neon signs affixed to their roof, drawing your eye and proclaiming the buildings existence. But what makes the skyline, like any skyline, are the role-players, the buildings who create the bulk and mass of structure, shortening the space between water and clouds.

New York's skyline might be more impressive for sheer bulk, and Shanghai's has more tall buildings, but as a unit, for both modernity, fullness and sheer beauty, I'm beginning to think Hong Kong has stolen my heart. While I can post a few simple pictures, it simply cannot do justice to the feeling of sailing past these buildings at night on a boat in one of the worlds busiest harbors.

In Defense of Shanghai

After telling Adrienne that I had written a terribly one sided blog about how much better Hong Kong is than Shanghai, she insisted that I wasn't being fair and needed to point out the benefits of Shanghai. She made some good points, so as an addendum, I would like to state the argument for Shanghai.

1. It's more exotic. Shanghai isn't western. It might want to be; it might feel more like it than the middle of Sichuan Provence, but at its sole its totally foreign to anyone coming from America. When I came to China I wanted to be somewhere different, and this place definitely is. Hong Kong was filled with Body Shops, Outback Steak Houses and even 7-11s (complete with Slurpee machines), whereas the occasional Subway or Burger King is as western as Shanghai gets (although an Applebee's just opened last month apparently). While Hong Kong is a magnificent city, its too western for a person searching for another world.

2. Shanghai is cheaper; the entire mainland is. Even though for the first time in history the RMB surpassed the HK$ in value two months ago, China is still way cheaper. The entirety of our 3 day weekend to Hong Kong cost about as much as a 10 day trip to Beijing. I can eat delicious food here until I'm so stuffed it hurts for about a bunch and a half, but in Hong Kong it would cost about 5 dollars to be content, far from belly-busting full.

3. Rooms are normal sized in Shanghai, unlike Hong Kong where its considered a luxury if you can't touch both walls of your apartment at the same time. Seriously, property is so scarce in Hong Kong that most families live in apartments smaller than the two SUV's many American families own, yet still pay more for it than the average American home. Both cities have thier fair share of old run down buildings, but in Shanghai you can walk around the bed in one.

There you have it, the three best reasons to choose Shanghai over Hong Kong. Well, those and that EF doesn't employee teachers in Hong Kong, so I didn't really have a choice. Both are dynamic, exciting and growing cities - the twin business giants of China someday to be vying for the top economic spot in the country. Someday. But for now the economic clout, and just like most other comparisons, favors Hong Kong.

The Throwdown

At the end of our first day in Hong Kong, my girlfriend Adrienne asked me, "So which would you rather live in, Hong Kong or Shanghai?" Saddly, I didn't even have to think about it - "Hong Kong".

The amazing thing about Hong Kong, which despite being 2/5 the size of Shanghai, is that it feels bussier, while remaning cleaner and more civil. There isn't garbage on the streets; there just isn't. It doesn't smell; garbage bins don't overflow with stench next to the road. There might be tall towers every where, but sunlight (real sunlight!) reaches the ground between them instead of being filtered by smog. It looks like a movie set - I occasionally expected to walk around the corner and discover that the building in front of me had actually been a facade; that the street wasn't 'really' a street and that I'd really just wandered onto film shoot.

But that's not the only reason I'd prefer Hong Kong, its party because the location oozes natural beauty. The mountains, the ocean, the foliage all work together to form a location that, had there not been a major world metropolis there, would have made a perfect location to shoot Pirates of the Caribbean. Yet the city being there doesn't completely destroy or mask its natural beauty; a short ferry ride or bus trip lets you out on tropical beaches or river valleys. Unlike most cities where nature is a destination, in Hong Kong it's simply a district of the city.

The urban districts of Hong Kong do have their splendor too. Unlike Shanghai's collection of space-craft-on-building sky scrappers, the skyline of Hong Kong, superior to every city aside from New York, is lined with admirable architecture, new and hip, creative yet functional. At night the buildings dot the night sky, standing on the water's edge, guarding the passage up Victoria Peak. If ever there was a city to be proud of its buildings, it would be Hong Kong.

In the end, however, it might just be the people. They act with respect not just for the space they inhabit, but also the people who inhabit it with them. I had been looking forward to riding the subway in Hong Kong for quite some time, not because it's so fast, clean and efficient, which it is, but because I was looking forward to exciting the trains without needing to shove my way through a stack of people. You see, in Hong Kong people patiently wait beside the doors for people to exit before boarding the subway; its a tradition unheard of on the mainland. Stepping into Hong Kong after 9 months in Shanghai is like coming back from a camping trip and simply enjoying the simple comforts that make life easy.

It seems both fitting and unfair to compare the two cities. Hong Kong, whose rich and international history was preserved by the British for the past 100 years, has much more international feel than Shanghai, a city closed off to foreigners for nearly half of that time period. Hong Kong feels like the world class city Shanghai wants to be, with people from all over the world coming to enjoy themselves and admire the city. Someday, after Shanghai has a little time to catch up economically, developmentally and emotionally we can have a closer comparison of the two cities, but for now... its Hong Kong in a romp.

Fragarant Harbor

China celebrated its equivalent of Labor Day this past weekend: the Mid-Autumn Festival. I didn't completely understand how the 'mid'-autumn festival marked the start of autumn, but I wasn't one to ever question a three day weekend. I'm more the type to hope a plane to Hong Kong for 3 non-stop days of out of this world (or out of this developing world) adventure.

I just want to start by saying that I'm in love with Hong Kong. I'm in love because it is a world class city, teaming with the nuances of life; because it has great buildings, but also has great wilderness, because it is clean and civilized - because it makes sense.

In all my travels, I don't think I've ever seen a city with such breathtaking contrasts. The ocean is gobbled up by city, which sweeps up green slopes to peaks high above. Outfitted with water, mountains and green life, its no wonder people concerned with Fung Shui decided to build a city here.

Hong Kong isn't just one city, it is really a series of islands and peninsulas, separated by mountains and water from each other. In fact, over 70% of Hong Kong's land is still wilderness, and even more of its footprint is the ocean. Those green hills that divide the villages of 50 story high rises seem like pure wilderness, but they're not. Hong Kong has developed an intricate systems of parks for itself, allowing its inhabitants to escape the pressure of city life amid beaches, streams and natural greenery.

Having seemingly survived the handover back to the mainland with no real ill effects, its easy to understand why China has done so little to change it. Why would they want to?

Growing Up

Cultural behavior is formed in countless ways, that is to say, we can never fully understand the effect on the psyche of different stimuli. We cannot eliminate variables to run proper tests, which is why we speculate, guess and conjecture (hence the respected scientific status of Anthropology). I like to wonder about an often overlooked environmental influence; I wonder about how the view from your window effects your outlook on life.

I've heard from my friends who grew up in Montana that they could never live in a place without mountains. They claim they are reassuring, comforting. Friends who grew up by the sea claim the same thing. I can't help but wonder what growing up next to something so big, something which dwarfs all human beings equally and completely, does to a person's mind. While I doubt that it increases religious beliefs, I feel like it must impart the feeling that we are all just smaller pieces of a larger world, that there is something (society, humanity, a deity) bigger than ourselves. I have no proof, and I wouldn't dare speculate that people who spent their childhood surfing or hiking are better people, but I can't help but wonder if there is an effect.

Which is why I'm fascinated by how a young Chinese person is influenced by the scores of apartment buildings, one after another, fading into the horizon. Knowing that each window of each building is a family, I feel a person would certainly have an understanding of a bigger society, but is it the same reaction as a child of the sea? I fear that it would cause people to be less humane, showing no empathy for others because they are simply aware that there are too many to realistically show empathy for. Does the skyline create socially conscious and aware individuals, or does it create self-centered, greedy me-first types?

As it is the Chinese are not prone to these philosophical wonderings, so I struggle to locate answers when I ask direct questions, and the culture is still distant enough from me that personal investigations reveal all too little.

Not that I'm one to throw stones, I'll admit I've never considered the mental effects the suburbs make on impressionable youths. But gathering how positively the landscape has effected some of my friends, I can't help but wonder if the cityscapes of China have that same positive effect.

Sweet Mother of Pearly Off Whites

Americans owe everyone in the UK a big apology - their teeth are really not that bad. The stereotypes of the snarl-toothed Brit are simply fictitious imaginations of bygone days. The reality of the matter is nobody has terrible teeth like the Chinese have terrible teeth.

When I broach the subject of 'dental insurance' with my students, they look at me quizzical wondering what it is. After explaining its like medical insurance but for your teeth, they shrug and say, 'oh, we don't have that'. Some students try to protest they don't have it because its covered under medical insurance, thus proving how superior Chinese health care is, grinning a proud smile which seems to be traveling in 8 different directions. There aren't really any dentists offices here, just hospitals where they'll have a look at your teeth. Plus, I don't think I've seen a kid with braces in 9 months.

I wonder how much pain my students can be in on a regular basis. It isn't uncommon for a students teeth to wander this way and that in their mouth. Others will have disturbing darkish spots above some teeth, which I can only imagine hurt like crazy, especially when twisting their mouths into odd shapes to pronounce English syllables. I had one girl in class yesterday with such a spot that, seemingly unprovoked, began to bleed in the middle of class. This isn't written to be disgusting, but to give a more accurate picture of the dire situation of teeth here.

I'm not saying that everyone has terrible teeth. Many of our students and all of my Chinese co-workers have exemplary teeth, cleaner, whiter and straighter than my own. They do, after all, have tooth paste here, though I dare not use it... if the tooth paste they export has poison I hate to think what the domestic products have in them. No, I brought a years supply of toothpaste with me when I came, deodorant too, but that's a different story.

I guess what I'm saying is, lay off England, alright? When I studied in London, one of my flatmates was studying to be a dentist, when I discovered that (A) dental care in England is quite good, and (B) the British have no idea we mock their teeth. So I ask you to redirect all of your bad-teeth stereotypes to China, because it might not be as bad as the other health problems China has been causing (SARS, Bird Flu), but I still don't want this epidemic to spread!

Yo quiero un burrito

I have found heaven in Shanghai and it is called New York City Deli. After scouring the internet for the best Mexican restaurant in Shanghai, the search ended with most every website agreeing that this was the place for burritos. Due to who knows why, they only sell the salsa lovin' food from Friday afternoon through Sunday night, so its weekends only for this delicious lunch treat. Fortunately they deliver free to our office...

Last weekend was the first experiment and the reaction was both simple and universal (even among those who didn't order but simply gazed upon greatness)... "Woah my gosh!! Real Burritos in Shanghai?!?!!!" These beauties were the size of a Nalgene bottle, filled with all the trimmings: sour cream, salsa, rice, beans and delectable carnitas. Perhaps it's because I'm on the soy saucy side of the world, perhaps because I've inhaled too much pollution, but I wanna say that this was more satisfying (and most definitely bigger) than my beloved Anna's.

This discovery may seem unimportant to most readers, sitting only a short drive away from delicious fajitas, tacos and quesedillas, but to someone eating fried noodles and boiled pork the past 9 months the taste of authentic Americanized Mexican food is worth writing home about. I've found I can find nearly any important style of food here - Italian, French, American, Indian, Thai, Chinese (go figure) - in Shanghai except Mexican, so rectifying that unsightly fact is a major cour in our culinary playbook. We repeated this tradition this Saturday, and again it induced an office of once lively, hardworking people into sitting around staring blankly at YouTube in the clutches of an unrelenting food coma.

On a side note, the more Mandarin I learn, not that I'm learning much, the more I forget the Spanish I spent 7 years learning in school. I was never very good, pretty much all I could ever muster was how much I love eating ham (jamon!), but the fact that it is disappearing is sad. With so many of my fellow teachers from the UK and Australia, plus the heavy emphasis on learning Chinese, there is nobody here to speak Spanish with, let alone anyone who understand the quick slang phrases which have permeated English. When I get home, I can only hope it hasn't all left me. Que Lastimo!

Above the Muck

Ever since my second month here in Shanghai I have belonged to the gym next to my office. Stored away on the top floor of a mall overlooking Peoples' Square, the gym is packed with exercise equipment of all types and even has a pool, dangling precariously over the food court on the floor below (I'd hate to think of all the soggy noddles if the ceiling ever gave way). Though I sometimes swim, I find the headaches of managing the Chinese willy-nilly sense of direction too much to bear underwater, which is why I find myself running on my treadmill (yes, I always run on the same one) more and more often. Not to mention, it has a view too.

Directly in front of me, at the base of the Shanghai Urban Planning Museum stands 'Haribo', the small, blue mascot of the 2010 World Expo in Shanghai - he kind of looks like he's made of toothpaste. Shanghai is using the Expo as an excuse to catapult itself into the 21st century, and this little guy is the face of it. To his right runs an official looking boulevard, lined with Chinese flags hanging from every lamp post. The regional government building is at the end of the street, which is why this street offers more pomp than the others. Across the decorated street is the Shanghai Museum, home to more Chinese antiquities than you can shake a stick at. A perfect circle, with odd, vertical loops rising above its entrances, the museum sits like a paperweight in the middle of a park.

As the park's of Peoples' Square fade into the backdrop of skyscrapers, a few holes between the buildings reveal glimpses of the elevated highway system. Here in the heart of the city there are 3 elevated highways stacked one atop the next, with the surface streets running beneath it all. Up close, they are grotesque structures, cleaner than Boston's old central artery, but offering a similar cave like feel beneath. Yet at a distance the traffic glides this way and that, a peaceful diversion to exercise at hand.

Then there are the buildings, with even more oddly shaped hats than the ones I can see from my bedroom. A few of my former roommates were architects, and they told me that the Chinese architectural mindset is to create a standard, mundane building from the ground up, but at the end build the top few floors as crazy, unique or experimental as possible, just to prove that they're good enough to do it. This helps explain the salad fork on top of one building, an oversizes cellphone on top of another, and a Star Wars transport ship on yet another. One of my favorite pastimes is to figure out what it looks like landed on top of the building (and you can't say UFO because it always looks like a UFO).

Finally, rising above it all are 3 buildings so tall, they wouldn't belong in Boston. One of them, though among the 50 tallest buildings on earth, is hardly noticed or mentioned when Shanghai skyscrapers are discussed, because its more famous for the luxury brand mall beneath it, than the tower above. Plus, its name, Plaza 66, sounds more like a cheap Chinese food court than a world class building. Yet that would seem to epitomize China's current image problem, its great things are being overlooked as blase, while the grotesque things are those that catch your eye.

The gym that makes the exercise possible, as running in the streets has too many problems: space, pollution, grimy muck in the streets. I feel that, given the choice of running in muck or looking at the impressive skyline, there is no question I embrace China's recent advancements. It's just that sometimes the muck coming out of China is harder to ignore.