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Blue Orange Green Pink Purple

im on a boat and...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOvaCV6uQp8

just in case you're not sick of it yet... i don't think i could ever be sick of it actually.

Hawaii


Surf competition on the North Shore. We got a free day in Honolulu because the storm in the Pacific was too bad. What a way to study for exams... the day before, spend it on a beach. Not too good for the GPA, but what would you do?

Just chillin. Me and MCA soakin up the rays in Honolulu.


Does anybody know who this is? Some famous surfer guy. I don't know... everybody was taking a picture of him, so Mary Chandler ran after him and stuck her camera all in his face. It was hilarious. Oh and p.s.... it's KELLY SLATER.

The girls on the ship the night of our fancy dinner. Man I'm gonna miss this bunch a lot.


Hawaii
Dec 4-7

What a perfect port to end on. Warm sun, white beaches, turquoise water. We hung out on the beaches of Honolulu for 2 days and sailed to Hilo on the big island. Hilo, a tiny town, was overcast and not that interesting, but we went back to Honolulu for a day to avoid the big swells and bad weather that we would have run into on our trip to San Diego. So study day was back on a beach instead of cooped up in the hull of the ship!!! Couldn’t have been more excited. Cut my foot on some coral so I’m hobbling around, but I’m just going to hobble to the beach. Too bad I’m being so active. We went to the Quicksilver surf competition on the North Shore for the day and saw Kelly Slater and some other really impressive dudes rippin’ it out there. Huge competition… just like Blue Crush. They said the waves were the biggest that day than they had been in 10 years.
It’s really weird to be back in America. Some of the clichés jumped out at us… like the monstrous portions and abundance of everything. Magazines, food, pop culture, tabloids, shopping, planned communities. Also the touristy American uniform of middle age men… tall white socks, Adias flip flops, polo shirts, khaki shorts, baseball hat. I can’t tell you how many of those we saw. It was strange to begin filtering our conversations in public spaces again; everyone can understand us now! Directions were easy to come by, and sarcasm from bartenders and waiters came back into our lives. Jokes don’t translate that well abroad, so it was nice to banter again. Cell phones sprung up again everywhere and welded themselves to the faces of SAS kids and my friends, much to my dismay. I didn’t miss mine one bit. It’s actually still in Cleveland, MS; I refused to take it. I loved not having it. You meet your group at the coffee shop down the road at a certain time and if you’re not there, you’re not going. You just hop on with another group and end up having a completely different but usually just as great experience. You live in the moment with the people you’re with and relish what’s going on around you. You don’t love your friends less because you are out of contact; interesting trinkets, certain conversations, or even a laugh can bring them along with you better than a cell phone. So much of this trip would be lost in wireless oblivion if I tried to explain it via phone. Oh, our public transit is horrible too because everyone uses their own cars. And I almost tried to barter for a piece of jewelry. Reverse culture shock, here I come.

The overall experience I have had with Semester at Sea has broadened my horizons and helped me in my quest to become a global citizen. I have learned so much both inside and outside the classroom about globalization and the blends, distinctions, and preservation of cultures. The academic experience of Semester at Sea has been challenging and enriching. My expectations of academic life were, for the most part, reversed, in that I anticipated Global Studies to be my favorite course and dreaded Operations Management. The latter, with Dr. Dan Duran, stretched me, challenged what I thought I could do and what a professor could ask, and stressed me out. I learned more about public speaking, group dynamics and projects, and a deadline crunch than I ever would in a public speaking class or leadership seminar, but I came away from the course with a plethora of new applicable knowledge and enormous respect for Dr. D. My Business, Government, and Society class was also surprising; I was not anticipating but was thrilled at the focus on Corporate Social Responsibility. I thought CSR was what I wanted to do before the voyage; reading the assigned text from the Harvard Business Review on the subject confirmed it. The only class I anticipated correctly was Non-profit Leadership; I knew I would love it and did. I could not imagine a better way to present the subject than heavy class discussion and debate, and it stimulated all of us. I was impressed by the thoughts of my peers on the subject and proud of the philanthropic spirit that our generation appears to hold.
It seems that a lot of the world is not what I expected. Surprises wait in every new experience and adventure, and memories of them change shade and color your mind and perspective with time. I have seen the everyday life of people all over the world, increased my empathy and urge to contribute, and been surprised by the hope and entrepreneurial spirit I have encountered in people. By the grace of email, I have strengthened some of my dear friendships at home and awoken again the excitement and richness of the letter. I have made lifelong friends on Semester at Sea, and given the nature of the goldfish bowl ship, they have seen me in my raw essence. It has taught me to coexist with people in close proximity all the time and to relish it. This experience has also confirmed my adventure-seeking spirit and taught me that the worst thing that you can do for yourself is to remain stagnant. Stagnant minds, bodies, and souls that are not nourished grow flabby and discontent; challenges bring inspiration. I take this premise back with me as life experience and will always remember my bedroom ocean view of the semester I spent on the sea.
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Japan


At the subway stop in Shinjuku, Japan.

Real live geishas! They were taking pictures of themselves holding the leaves until I tapped them on the shoulder and asked to take one of them. So artisy. Actually I think they were maikos because they look young.


A Japanese garden.



Shibuya crossing! One of the busiest crossings in the world.




Capsule hotel! Best sleep I got in Japan.





5 am visit to fish market. Marcus loved this tuna. Took a thousand pictures of it.






My group meets Frank's group and paints Tokyo red.



Night after the capsule hotel, exploring Asakusa, Tokyo.



Japan

Nov. 11 Friday
We ported in Yokohama this morning and got off the ship after an intense passing through customs that involved fingerprints, pictures, forms, and metal detectors. The Japanese are extremely precise.
My preconceptions of Japan before I came were vague images of delicate bonsai trees, stone and sand gardens, geishas and samurais clad in kimonos, Sudoku, and, above all, SUSHI! They were not far off in accuracy—the traditions and culture are very ethnocentric as 90 % of Japan is Japanese by birth. They are an extremely polite, soft-spoken, passive people that won’t tell you “no” to your face.
After getting a little spending yen (and I do mean a little… the dollar has no power in Japan right now), we went to a 100 yen store (like a dollar store at home) and got a few cheap trinkets. Ah, how tight my budget belt is getting! The group was Marcus, Olivia, Charis, Carley, Mary C, and me. Lunch was incredible—this white dumpling of bread with sausage inside and shrimp and chicken dumplings and pot stickers. SO good. We took our goodies to a KFC (because MCA didn’t like the pot stickers). You know you are living in a flat world when the Japanese man sitting beside you is eating Kentucky Fried Chicken and you’re eating with chopsticks. Transfer of cultures at its finest.
We caught the subway to the small amusement park on the pier and rode the Ferris wheel and roller coaster. Later we met my friend Frank Butz in the subway station! Frank is from Ole Miss and is studying abroad for a year in Tokyo, working on his Japanese. We took the Minatuchi Line to Den-en-cho, the area where he lives.
Den-en-cho is an affluent and quaint neighborhood of corner food markets, dance studios, and teahouses. We winded down the dimly lit, clean, quiet streets as flower markets were closing and sake stores were opening. Discarding our shoes before we entered Frank’s house, we slid the door daintily into the wall to reveal a large rug and low lying furniture. He has 8 roommates from Japan so he is immersed in the language on all fronts. He’s doing quite well too—he definitely impressed me with his conversations and made it a lot easier to get around. We would never have found all the things we went to without him!
Piling our backpacks in a corner of his tiny room, we changed for the night and went with some of his roommates (Dice, Natsu, and Toshi) and 2 of his schoolmates from Germany (Christopher and Michael) to the restaurant where they filmed Kill Bill. It was so cool! Dice ordered our food, and taking me back to Ole Miss, we poured our airplane bottles of whiskey in our cokes to save money. Drinking is good in their culture; here you are expected to go out drinking with your boss at least 3 nights a week or it is considered rude. We had great food—edamame, cherry tomatoes wrapped in bacon, chicken kebabs, mushroom caps with smoky chicken filing, thin Kobe beef and potatoes, and chicken and veggie skewers. We didn’t eat a lot because in a big group it is considered rude. There are so many cultural things here that Westerners do that are rude here—taking the dish you ordered and putting it in front of you (you share everything), separating from a group or walking ahead of the group, handing money to the cashier (there’s a small dish that you place it in), crossing your legs in public (we got nailed on that in the subway), blowing your nose in public, sticking chopsticks straight down in a dish (it means “death to you”), eating fast (we were very rude at dinner, I think). When you receive a business card, you take it with both hands face up and bow. Wait until they leave to put it in your front pocket, never in your back because you sit on it. Japan is an advanced country with so many rights for its citizens; respect is their main commodity, so it struck me as odd that many Japanese cited their suicide rate as one of their main national dilemmas. They have the highest in the world, supposedly from overwork and stress. Japanese take everything so seriously, and honor is essential. If they feel they aren’t performing well enough in the work place they get depressed. There is a team that specializes in cleaning up suicides in the subways… it is the only time the trains are ever late, they say. How devastatingly sad.
It is suicide, not homicide or crime, that is their problem. Japan is one of the safest countries in the world, and they consider it dishonorable and disgusting to steal. One of our friends left a digital camera in a park at 9 am… we went back at 6 pm when he realized it, and there it was, sitting on the rock where he had left it. Another friend left a shopping bag on a bench in the mall and it was there an hour later. Bizarre! It was wonderful to not have to consciously have my hand on my purse when I walked down the street. I felt very safe all the time.
After dinner we took the subway to the Shibuya district for the busiest and most fun night life in Tokyo. Shibuya crossing is one of the most famous intersections in the world—the thick concentration of people flooding across the street from 3 different directions is truly a sight to behold. Shibuya is kind of like NYC’s Times Square—huge lit up billboards, lights everywhere, and an atmosphere that gives you an energy you can’t describe. We went to a Nomihodai place for drinks—you pay about $15 for an appetizer and get all you can drink for two hours. The booth we were in was secluded by thin tapestries and light wood walls on both sides. It didn’t have a hole in the middle for our legs—you either sat Indian style or stretched your legs out to join the people opposite the table from you. We played the Question game, the handslap reverse, and Zooma Zooma. It was great.
About 4 am we went up to Love Hotel hill to check out the legendary hourly themed rooms. We couldn’t look in at one without booking, but I loved seeing that sketchy alley with the bright pictures of castle and heart shaped beds.
Next to the subway to see the opening of the Fish Market. That was a surreal experience. Bright lights, tiny Japanese men running with buckets everywhere, pushing you out of the way, giant four foot tunas being cut by power saws, everything under the sea squirming and crawling in water or frozen on ice, displayed for the grocers and chefs. As the sun came up we watched the big fish auction. Men gave high fives and got really excited when they won a big one. Carts zoomed through the alleys at ridiculous speeds around us and 3 would have taken me out if people hadn’t tugged me out of the way just in time. The market was huge and we lost our bearings, so Frank asked a guy driving a cart if we could hop on the back of his empty trailer. We ended up holding tightly to each other’s backs as we weaved in and out of the alleys as we stood on the back of the cart. Great end of the night.
At about 630 am we started to crash fast. All we wanted was a soft place to lay our heads. Actually it didn’t have to be soft… a corner would have probably been ok with everyone at this point. We went to the top of this classy hotel lobby, but after we found out it was $200 a night we just sat on their couches. When we felt the eyes of the concierge begin to boar into the back of our heads, we shuffled back to the streets to try again.
We decided to try Love Hotel Hill again but after tying to sneak all 6 of us in at about 10 different places we concluded that that plan wasn’t going to work. Trudging back to Shibuya crossing with aching feet, we opted for the second story of Starbucks overlooking the crossing. Sleep pulled at our coattails and slumped us in a mush of bodies together on the floor. While Carley, Mary Chandler, and Charis commentated on the plentiful fashion, from the extremely chic business people to the crazy Hinjuku Goths, Olivia, Frank, Marcus, and I dozed. When the Starbucks barista made us sit on stools, we decided we were officially being hobos. At 10 am the 3-5th floors opened, which contained a big music store and café, so the nomadic herd moved again. I listened to the New Moon soundtrack with these wonderful surround sound headphones and went into this blissful, euphoric state when I heard Bon Iver and St. Vincent’s new track. Charis, Carley, and I bought it for $15 and each paid $5.
We then decided we couldn’t make it any longer and went to Frank’s apartment to get our stuff and find a hostel. We had stayed away from his apartment before now. He had gotten kicked out of his first apartment because his drunk American friend had accidently gone naked into his Japanese roommate’s room in the early morning and the guy was NOT ok with it. Japanese people are very reserved and private (except for the blatant display of porn in the form of Manga, a comic strip magazine of a big-breasted Japanese super hero. I didn’t see any of it, but I heard that men read it all the time on the subways. It seems to clash with their polite, reserved culture, but there are some weird fetishes here. Hello Kitty for example, and the baby doll fashion statement of a lot of young girls.)
Anyway, Frank had to move and we didn’t want to get him kicked out again, but the minute we sat down on his floor we slept for five hours. At 5 pm we all woke up refreshed but couldn’t believe what we just did. He then helped us find a capsule hotel and bid us farewell… that sweet Southern boy gave me his jacket when I got cold, went with Charis to buy flats when her heels couldn’t hold her any longer, waited on us for everything, and always made sure we were having fun and were ok. It was so wonderful to see him! Had an incredible time.

11/21 Sat.
Started this day at 5 pm. Found the capsule hotel easily—It was an easy 30 minute subway ride. The capsule hotel was the coolest thing… We bought our room from a vending machine for 3000 yen ($30) and put our shoes in a locker in exchange for plastic slippers. Our capsule was literally a bed in the wall that you climb into. They were very cozy and spacious though; you could sit up and there was a TV and radio. We ate dinner at an incredible Italian place and I had the best pizza I’ve ever had in my life I think—prosciutto and mozzarella, thin crust. I wanted to do a little dance around the restaurant it was so good. Baskin Robbins ice cream after! Caramel apple flavor, a new one. Back to the hotel for the craziest bathing experience I’ve ever had. We put on our blue kimono style pajamas provided in our lockers and flopped up to the 9th floor to the ladies washroom. Once inside, we took off all our clothes and went into the communal washroom which consisted of four removable showerheads and buckets that you could sit on. After getting squeaky clean you could get in the huge hot tub. It was amazing. We felt fresh and wonderful and sleepy; the minute my head touched the pillow in my little cubby I was gone.

11/22 Sun.
I was woken up by Australian girls giggling and taking pictures right outside my screen. They obviously didn’t think people were sleeping in them because their forearms kept coming into my bunk, clamping themselves to the wall for a cute picture. The temptation was just too strong… I grabbed her. She screamed and jumped off as I rolled the screen up and said, “Well hey y’all, where are y’all from? Want me to take a picture of you?” Didn’t regret that move one bit. So fun.
That day we wandered around our area—Asakusa—to see what we could see. We got coffee and toast with butter and jam at a tiny little hole-in-the-wall place and saw a big temple. Met a really cool girl, Lea, who had just graduated college and was traveling the world solo. So cool. Hawaii was her first stop, and after Japan she’s headed to China, so opposite of us. From Oklahoma. Went to Denny’s for wifi and then to a sushi go round restaurant with her. The sushi, mostly sashimi, was placed according to price on different plate patterns and served in twos. The plates go around and around on a small conveyor belt in front of you and you just grab what you want. SO good.
Ok, I have to talk about the toilets. After the squatters in India and China, they came as a shock… the toilet seat is heated! It’s also electric and has about 4 buttons with options. You’ve got the water squirter for a nice, refreshing clean feeling, and you can adjust the pressure, the blow dryer (in case you feel climate friendly and don’t want to use toilet paper), and the automatic hand that wipes your butt for you. Ok, joking about the last one, but seriously! They were nifty.
After lunch walked around a bit more, hit up Starbucks, and headed to Tokyo station to figure out the overnight bus. The bus to Kobe was booked, so we went on the one to Osaka, which is 30 minutes away from Kobe. We ate at a noodle bar where you order and pay for your meal by pictures on a vending machine. You give your ticket to the cook and they give you hot green tea made from green powder while you wait. I had a big bowl of chicken, egg, rice, and cilantro for $4.50.
Our double decker bus departed right at 11:39 pm on the nose and we popped our seats back and our footrests up immediately. Pretty comfortable, actually, but I still couldn’t sleep. The thing reminded me of Stan Shunpike’s Midnight Express bus in the 3rd Harry Potter… what was it called? The purple one with the crazy driver… more magical than “Midnight Express,” right? Killed 2 ½ hours with HP6 on Charis’s computer.

11/23 Mon.
Arrived in Osaka dog tired… the plans to explore the city quickly turned into plans to see the back of our eyelids on the ship. Quick 30 minute subway to Kobe straight back to our rooms.
At 2 we emerged again and Olivia, Kate, and I walked around Kobe for a while. Big city with great shopping. Too bad it’s all way out of my price range right now. Chinatown, on the other hand, was a much better option. Olivia impressed us with her Chinese and we got little dumplings from the cute stations.
Later we took the train to a hot springs in a quaint tiny town about 30 minutes away. I feel like I’m back in the Delta with everything being 30 minutes away! Add 30 naked Japanese women to the equation and the spa was basically the same as our community bath the other night. We shed our clothes in the locker room and walked into the steamy community baths to sit on a bucket again and shower thoroughly before our soak in the springs. I’ve never seen that many naked women in my life. I’m very comfortable with my body now though; modesty’s out the window and my friends and I have bonded, to say the least.
As we walked through the narrow, winding street, the cold crisp night air felt welcome to our warmed insides. The baths were definitely a cultural experience. It’s crazy how bathing together is just a part of life there… it’s so natural to them. Made me wonder why Westerners have so much stigma attached to nudity; it’s automatically over-sexualized. The Japanese women seemed very comfortable in their skin and happy with the way they are. I wish their attitudes could be exported and swallowed by American teenagers.

11/24 Tues.
Our trip to Japan would not be complete without at trip to Kyoto, the keeper of beauty and culture. There are over 2000 shrines and 17 temples in the city and surrounding areas. Kyoto is home to one famous, illusive keeper of culture that baffles the mind of the Westerner—the geisha. Their refined grace flows easily as they daintily pour tea, light cigarettes, perform and sing with delicate instruments for a select group of Japanese businessmen behind the closed screens of tea houses. They are not prostitutes, but arrangements can be made with the highest bidder… and the bids get very high. Said to have dwindled in numbers to only 1000 in the world, geishas and maikos (their apprentices) appear one moment in quiet streets and stone paths and vanish in another. Their illusive tendencies make you wonder if you just hallucinated. The pale white faces and tightly wrapped silk kimonos linger tangibly in your mind only for a second before they too swirl into mist, impossible to capture. We were lucky enough to see 3… I think. I recommend reading and watching Memoirs of a Geisha… wonderful and fascinating true story.
Autumn in Kyoto flattered the city with brilliant shades of yellow, crimson, and green. Leaves of golden ginkgos leaned over swooping tiled roofs of temples and homes and bright red maples dipped their leaves into still lakes. We walked along the Philosopher’s Path, a quiet stone path that wove with a stream and the woods. As we meandered, we passed beautiful temples and small family-run shops. We ended up at the Nin-jo Castle right before it closed for the day and ran through its cold, empty rooms. The one attraction in the sans furniture palace of Berber carpet were the beautiful walls of gold-leafed murals depicting cranes, cherry blossoms, and women. The grounds were extensive and beautiful in their simplicity as well.
We cut it really close on time in getting back on the ship in Kobe, making a dramatic dash in the rain from the subway with 3 minutes to spare. We made it with no dock time though! Literally squeezed everything we could from our incredible time in Japan. It’s difficult to say because they are all so diverse and wonderful in their own ways, but I think Japan might have been my favorite country.
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China

Hong Kong, China

Wed. Nov. 11

            Hong Kong, once called the barren rock, is an island of entrepreneurial superpower. Skyscrapers shoot from the water’s edge and cover everything except the lush green mountains that creep slowly behind the city of glass and steel. Once a British colony, Hong Kong rejoined the People’s Republic of China in 1997. Its bustling capitalistic economy preserves its democratic tendencies and keeps China from taking complete control. Called the New York of Asia, HK has an energy and electric feel that certainly reminds me of the city that doesn’t sleep. This city does though; people of all ages flock to the parks at 5 am to do Tai Chi. Unlike the rest of China, the majority of people speak Cantonese, not Mandarin, and about 35% speak English. Feng Shui is taken very seriously, especially in expensive construction projects. Thought to make or break a business. Ba gua mirrors deflect evil spirits and buildings lack any floor number that has 4 in it—4 is very similar to the word “die” in Chinese. Fusion of east and west with food too—dim sum, hot pot, and fast food restaurants coexist with haute cuisine.

            We booked a trip through an independent travel agency, the China Guide. When we arrived in port, we were picked up from the ship for our Hong Kong city tour. We saw the Man Mo Temple, a Taoist place of heavy adornment and heavier incense. A hundred smoking coils of incense hung from the ceiling and sticks smoldered in sand pots near shrines, making a heady fog of sweet smells. Fruit, flowers, and candles were offered to a Buddha draped in yellow silk and Chinese lanterns gave off a dim glow. One side of the small temple was dedicated to fortune telling. There was one device, similar to an 8-ball, that you ask a question and your answer is revealed in an ancient book. It was a skinny clay pot filled with sticks that all had a number on them. You would shake the pot until 1 stick fell out, and that number corresponds to your fortune in the book. It took a long time to get just one out; if more than one fell, you had to start over. Kinda like Jenga, in a way. My number was 66… it chronicled the life of a Chinese poet that has links to my life. My fortune:

            Saying #66: “Tao Fu relaxed in the bliss of spring.”

            Message: Very bright prospect

            Historical reference: Basically he had a great life… loved poetry and long story short ended up building himself a grass hut by the side of a stream. There, in the bliss of the warm spring air, he relaxed and indulged in drink, poetry, and the scenery. People said this was the most joyful moment of his life. So, can anybody see me ending up by a creek when I’m about 70, reading poetry and having a little wine? I can totally dig it. Thanks Tao Fu. Holla to my Chinese kindred spirit ancestor dude.

            Prediction and advice: Sickness heals in no time.

                                                Lawsuits settle quickly.

                                                Wealth grows by degrees.

                                                Travelers return.

                                                Ripe time for marriage. (or not…)

                                                Fortune gained without effort.

 

            So basically I’m going to get married in 5 years and end up in a grass hut by a stream. Sounds ideal to me. I’d like to stretch out the marriage period to 10 years… but we’ll see.

            After the temple it was out into the clear air again and up the steep tram for views from Victoria Peak. (Passed a wax Jackie Chan in the tram station… just throwing that out there.) Seeing the skyline from that height was absolutely incredible. So incredible that I bought a $6 ice cream the size of a kiddy cone. Didn’t realize it until it was in my hand. Hey, gotta give it to them though; these guys know their market. Everything was jacked up in price on that hill.

            Snaked down the mountain’s steep curves and thrilling drops on a bus and had a traditional Chinese lunch of fired crab wontons, egg drop soup, some assorted meats and greens, and of course, tea! Black and jasmine.

            After lunch we saw where it came from—the Aberdeen Fishing Village. We boarded cute little sampan boats used to take people across the Bay to Jumbo, the largest floating restaurant in the world (3 story dinner boat). The very traditional and delicate architecture of the dock provided stark contrast to the high rises just behind it, but was another example of preserving tradition while welcoming the future. Long green tile coated the roof that curved and swooped back up to the sky before it ended. Intricate geometrical latticework and small murals of warriors and women in silk hid between red columns. A fierce dragon head snarled from his illuminated circle atop the roof, and of course, the whole thing lit up like an incessant firefly at night.

            Our sampan had about 25 Chinese lanterns hanging from its bamboo roof. Their fringe rocked and swayed as we motored around the fishing house boats of the harbor—yachts on one side, rickety old dingys on the other. Stark contrast.

            After the fishing village we went to the most famous beach in Hong Kong—Repulse Bay (which doesn’t sound that wonderful really, but it was cool). It held a huge sculpture garden of enormous tiled buddas, golden fish, dainty gazebos, terracotta horses, and a giant tiled Chinese old man riding a turtle.

            Went out to see the incredible light show across the bay that night—the buildings had lights that zig zagged, swirled, and jumped over the tall metal frames. As the lights reflected off the water, they danced to a chimey musical tune. It was hokey but awesome. That night Olivia, Carley, Mary C, Charis, and I went to the Four Seasons HK for a drink ($14 cocktail was amazing) and a late dinner.

 

Thurs. Nov 12

           

            To Beijing by air today—3 hour ride from warm 70s in HK to the freezing 30s in the north. The city, white with new snow, seemed much quieter than HK. We checked into Huayu Hotel and tried to find a cool traditional Chinese place for dinner but it was so cold that we ended up going to a really weird place. Most people ordered cheeseburgers and paninis and they were terrible. My Chinese food was pretty good though. We then made a strange attempt at going out at this karaoke bar… we were the only people there and our “Love Shack” choice fizzled pretty quickly. We then went to Ho high street, which is a district of really cool bars around a lake, but it was completely dead. Which I found weird on a Thursday night… but I guess Beijing isn’t Oxford. And good luck with taxis… the language barrier is huge. This is the thickest wall I’ve encountered so far because there are no similarities between Mandarin and English at all. You have no chance of figuring out what things mean. We stopped 4 taxis before we found one that knew where our hotel was. Bizarre that we got where we needed to go each time!

 

Fri. Nov 13

            The frosty morning air revealed a beautiful city cloaked in powder. To the girls’ delight, the first item on our day agenda was shopping in Silk Street, a five-story plaza with tons and tons of independent booths selling great knock off everything—North Face, Patagonia, Jimmy Choo, Salvatore Ferragamo, TODS, Longchamp… I mean every brand you could think of. Floor of coats, floor of shoes, purses, and accessories, floor of silk, and a spa and restaurant on the top. I did too much damage in Vietnam to go crazy again, but I did buy black and gold flats ($11), brown flat riding boots ($10), and a really great Ferragamo leather purse ($20). Not too bad right? Got a great deal. Could have done a lot more damage. I took myself out of the game and went to a Starbucks around the corner. After my Christmasy Cinnamon latte, I stopped off in the McDonalds bathroom—a squatter, like the rest of China (except the really nice places). For those of you that don’t know what a squatter is—lucky you. It’s a hole in the ground that you squat over. That was fun.

            After we piled on the bus with all of our bags and burdens we rolled off to the Drum Tower where we met Tom Li, an adorable little guy about 23 that said “Ok great” and “awesome” in the cutest tones and said every word he considered important 3 times in case we didn’t catch it. Example “Ok, this is the ancient drum tower that the emperor used to call people together, people together, people together. Got it? Ok Great!”

            A tiny little man cycled us around the town on his rickshaw after we trekked down from the tower and Tom Li hopped on the handlebars. We bumped through icy, muddy clay and rock and said “Ne haw” (hello) to everyone we passed. Very entertaining.

            We were so glad to duck into an alley and someone’s home after the rickshaw—cold and hungry—best hot tea and peanuts I’ve had. We had a lot of wonderful food that the mother of the home had prepared, and at the end of the meal she introduced us to her pet black bird that spoke Chinese.

            The doorways to homes are very characteristic of its inhabitants and what kind of family you will find there. Two posts above a door signify a lower/middle class, 4 posts signify upper class/government… more than that and you are a big deal. Also the doors are not flush with the floor; instead you step over a ledge before you can enter. This is based on the belief that ghosts are kneeless and cannot enter because of that barrier.

            After we were toasty and warm we began our journey to the Great Wall—a 3 hour drive through the snowy mountains. We arrived right at sunset and ran up the slick hill to see the sun sink behind the craggy horizon. Absolutely majestic. We had dinner at a restaurant at the base of the wall—JinShan Restaurant. Very good.

            We then piled on the bus—only had 1 boy in our group and 24 girls, so everyone strapped on long johns and piled on more layers. Except me, of course, because I never really bundle properly for anything. Carley, on the other hand, wore leggings, jeans, snow pants, 2 long sleeve shirts, a polar fleece, a hoodie, and a jacket. Not exactly sure how she moved! 15 degrees below Celsius on the Wall. Ridiculous.

            We were given tiny crank flashlights and told to commence our 45 minute hike up to the wall in the dark. For most of the hike we sang Mulan tunes, and then we switched to Beatles. I’m sure someone wanted to throw snowballs at us. Or rocks. When we finally summated, we followed the wrong guide 2 towers down and hiked about 20 minutes out of the way. When we finally reached our tower, water, beer, and Oreos were waiting on us, along with our very relieved tour guide.

            Mary C brought 2 bottles of wine, and watching her try to open them with cumbersome mittens and a black guard covering her face was hilarious. We made a huge pile of bodies outside and watched shooting stars for hours. The close night sky was more expansive, luminous and breathtaking than I’ve ever seen it before. Our laughter kept us warm as we huddled together with our backs against the crumbling ancient stones and snow. We slept inside 2 sleeping bags and were relatively warm, thanks to body heat.

            Dawn came early and we shook the morning chill off with difficulty. The morning sun touched the rugged landscape and revealed the wall to us in all its glory for the first time. Whoever said the Great Wall was overrated didn’t see this morning. Your eye could trace it for miles into the distance; the extensive expanse is astronomical.

            We climbed, scrambled, and slid up and down the crazy angles of the wall for about 2 hours (some of the hills were covered in snow and ice and looked like 60 degree angles) before we took a zip line across the lake and had lunch.

            After returning to Beijing we put our stuff down in the hotel and saw the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, the Summer Palace (where I got roasted chestnuts for the first time—pretty good… different from what I expected. A very meaty nut, the chestnut). Naked branches of weeping willows lightly kissed the huge frozen lake beside the Summer Palace. The sun glinted off the ice as towering trees made long shadows and dappled light spots on the ancient walls and walkways.

            After the Summer Palace we stopped at the Beijing Olympic sights to see the Bird’s Nest and Swim Cube. Really crazy architecture. After we were chilled to the bone we stopped at a tea house to sample the local delicacies. Tiny women taught us to drink and eat properly. Some tea you slurp, some you sip, and some you smack, surprisingly enough.

            Time to depart Beijing! To the train station to catch the overnight sleeper to Shanghai. It was MCA’s 21st so we had a good time together. Very comfortable sleeper compartment—4 to a room (MCA, Charis, Carley, me). Arrived the next morning to a chilly, rainy Shanghai and went back to the boat for a nap. Our boat was delayed half a day so we had a bit more time to play around there but it was nasty out and we just stayed in and watched movies. Too exhausted!

            I loved China. The government was a little strange at times… Facebook and a few other major sites are blocked in China and the Tiananmen Square Massacre is a taboo subject that nobody every touches. One American student googled it when he was studying abroad in China and the police showed up at his door 2 hours later with a warning. It’s just kinda weird. But everything else was so cool. It’s such an ancient country with rich traditions and strong culture. Hard to not be impressed. 

Hong Kong, China

Wed. Nov. 11

            Hong Kong, once called the barren rock, is an island of entrepreneurial superpower. Skyscrapers shoot from the water’s edge and cover everything except the lush green mountains that creep slowly behind the city of glass and steel. Once a British colony, Hong Kong rejoined the People’s Republic of China in 1997. Its bustling capitalistic economy preserves its democratic tendencies and keeps China from taking complete control. Called the New York of Asia, HK has an energy and electric feel that certainly reminds me of the city that doesn’t sleep. This city does though; people of all ages flock to the parks at 5 am to do Tai Chi. Unlike the rest of China, the majority of people speak Cantonese, not Mandarin, and about 35% speak English. Feng Shui is taken very seriously, especially in expensive construction projects. Thought to make or break a business. Ba gua mirrors deflect evil spirits and buildings lack any floor number that has 4 in it—4 is very similar to the word “die” in Chinese. Fusion of east and west with food too—dim sum, hot pot, and fast food restaurants coexist with haute cuisine.

            We booked a trip through an independent travel agency, the China Guide. When we arrived in port, we were picked up from the ship for our Hong Kong city tour. We saw the Man Mo Temple, a Taoist place of heavy adornment and heavier incense. A hundred smoking coils of incense hung from the ceiling and sticks smoldered in sand pots near shrines, making a heady fog of sweet smells. Fruit, flowers, and candles were offered to a Buddha draped in yellow silk and Chinese lanterns gave off a dim glow. One side of the small temple was dedicated to fortune telling. There was one device, similar to an 8-ball, that you ask a question and your answer is revealed in an ancient book. It was a skinny clay pot filled with sticks that all had a number on them. You would shake the pot until 1 stick fell out, and that number corresponds to your fortune in the book. It took a long time to get just one out; if more than one fell, you had to start over. Kinda like Jenga, in a way. My number was 66… it chronicled the life of a Chinese poet that has links to my life. My fortune:

            Saying #66: “Tao Fu relaxed in the bliss of spring.”

            Message: Very bright prospect

            Historical reference: Basically he had a great life… loved poetry and long story short ended up building himself a grass hut by the side of a stream. There, in the bliss of the warm spring air, he relaxed and indulged in drink, poetry, and the scenery. People said this was the most joyful moment of his life. So, can anybody see me ending up by a creek when I’m about 70, reading poetry and having a little wine? I can totally dig it. Thanks Tao Fu. Holla to my Chinese kindred spirit ancestor dude.

            Prediction and advice: Sickness heals in no time.

                                                Lawsuits settle quickly.

                                                Wealth grows by degrees.

                                                Travelers return.

                                                Ripe time for marriage. (or not…)

                                                Fortune gained without effort.

 

            So basically I’m going to get married in 5 years and end up in a grass hut by a stream. Sounds ideal to me. I’d like to stretch out the marriage period to 10 years… but we’ll see.

            After the temple it was out into the clear air again and up the steep tram for views from Victoria Peak. (Passed a wax Jackie Chan in the tram station… just throwing that out there.) Seeing the skyline from that height was absolutely incredible. So incredible that I bought a $6 ice cream the size of a kiddy cone. Didn’t realize it until it was in my hand. Hey, gotta give it to them though; these guys know their market. Everything was jacked up in price on that hill.

            Snaked down the mountain’s steep curves and thrilling drops on a bus and had a traditional Chinese lunch of fired crab wontons, egg drop soup, some assorted meats and greens, and of course, tea! Black and jasmine.

            After lunch we saw where it came from—the Aberdeen Fishing Village. We boarded cute little sampan boats used to take people across the Bay to Jumbo, the largest floating restaurant in the world (3 story dinner boat). The very traditional and delicate architecture of the dock provided stark contrast to the high rises just behind it, but was another example of preserving tradition while welcoming the future. Long green tile coated the roof that curved and swooped back up to the sky before it ended. Intricate geometrical latticework and small murals of warriors and women in silk hid between red columns. A fierce dragon head snarled from his illuminated circle atop the roof, and of course, the whole thing lit up like an incessant firefly at night.

            Our sampan had about 25 Chinese lanterns hanging from its bamboo roof. Their fringe rocked and swayed as we motored around the fishing house boats of the harbor—yachts on one side, rickety old dingys on the other. Stark contrast.

            After the fishing village we went to the most famous beach in Hong Kong—Repulse Bay (which doesn’t sound that wonderful really, but it was cool). It held a huge sculpture garden of enormous tiled buddas, golden fish, dainty gazebos, terracotta horses, and a giant tiled Chinese old man riding a turtle.

            Went out to see the incredible light show across the bay that night—the buildings had lights that zig zagged, swirled, and jumped over the tall metal frames. As the lights reflected off the water, they danced to a chimey musical tune. It was hokey but awesome. That night Olivia, Carley, Mary C, Charis, and I went to the Four Seasons HK for a drink ($14 cocktail was amazing) and a late dinner.

 

Thurs. Nov 12

           

            To Beijing by air today—3 hour ride from warm 70s in HK to the freezing 30s in the north. The city, white with new snow, seemed much quieter than HK. We checked into Huayu Hotel and tried to find a cool traditional Chinese place for dinner but it was so cold that we ended up going to a really weird place. Most people ordered cheeseburgers and paninis and they were terrible. My Chinese food was pretty good though. We then made a strange attempt at going out at this karaoke bar… we were the only people there and our “Love Shack” choice fizzled pretty quickly. We then went to Ho high street, which is a district of really cool bars around a lake, but it was completely dead. Which I found weird on a Thursday night… but I guess Beijing isn’t Oxford. And good luck with taxis… the language barrier is huge. This is the thickest wall I’ve encountered so far because there are no similarities between Mandarin and English at all. You have no chance of figuring out what things mean. We stopped 4 taxis before we found one that knew where our hotel was. Bizarre that we got where we needed to go each time!

 

Fri. Nov 13

            The frosty morning air revealed a beautiful city cloaked in powder. To the girls’ delight, the first item on our day agenda was shopping in Silk Street, a five-story plaza with tons and tons of independent booths selling great knock off everything—North Face, Patagonia, Jimmy Choo, Salvatore Ferragamo, TODS, Longchamp… I mean every brand you could think of. Floor of coats, floor of shoes, purses, and accessories, floor of silk, and a spa and restaurant on the top. I did too much damage in Vietnam to go crazy again, but I did buy black and gold flats ($11), brown flat riding boots ($10), and a really great Ferragamo leather purse ($20). Not too bad right? Got a great deal. Could have done a lot more damage. I took myself out of the game and went to a Starbucks around the corner. After my Christmasy Cinnamon latte, I stopped off in the McDonalds bathroom—a squatter, like the rest of China (except the really nice places). For those of you that don’t know what a squatter is—lucky you. It’s a hole in the ground that you squat over. That was fun.

            After we piled on the bus with all of our bags and burdens we rolled off to the Drum Tower where we met Tom Li, an adorable little guy about 23 that said “Ok great” and “awesome” in the cutest tones and said every word he considered important 3 times in case we didn’t catch it. Example “Ok, this is the ancient drum tower that the emperor used to call people together, people together, people together. Got it? Ok Great!”

            A tiny little man cycled us around the town on his rickshaw after we trekked down from the tower and Tom Li hopped on the handlebars. We bumped through icy, muddy clay and rock and said “Ne haw” (hello) to everyone we passed. Very entertaining.

            We were so glad to duck into an alley and someone’s home after the rickshaw—cold and hungry—best hot tea and peanuts I’ve had. We had a lot of wonderful food that the mother of the home had prepared, and at the end of the meal she introduced us to her pet black bird that spoke Chinese.

            The doorways to homes are very characteristic of its inhabitants and what kind of family you will find there. Two posts above a door signify a lower/middle class, 4 posts signify upper class/government… more than that and you are a big deal. Also the doors are not flush with the floor; instead you step over a ledge before you can enter. This is based on the belief that ghosts are kneeless and cannot enter because of that barrier.

            After we were toasty and warm we began our journey to the Great Wall—a 3 hour drive through the snowy mountains. We arrived right at sunset and ran up the slick hill to see the sun sink behind the craggy horizon. Absolutely majestic. We had dinner at a restaurant at the base of the wall—JinShan Restaurant. Very good.

            We then piled on the bus—only had 1 boy in our group and 24 girls, so everyone strapped on long johns and piled on more layers. Except me, of course, because I never really bundle properly for anything. Carley, on the other hand, wore leggings, jeans, snow pants, 2 long sleeve shirts, a polar fleece, a hoodie, and a jacket. Not exactly sure how she moved! 15 degrees below Celsius on the Wall. Ridiculous.

            We were given tiny crank flashlights and told to commence our 45 minute hike up to the wall in the dark. For most of the hike we sang Mulan tunes, and then we switched to Beatles. I’m sure someone wanted to throw snowballs at us. Or rocks. When we finally summated, we followed the wrong guide 2 towers down and hiked about 20 minutes out of the way. When we finally reached our tower, water, beer, and Oreos were waiting on us, along with our very relieved tour guide.

            Mary C brought 2 bottles of wine, and watching her try to open them with cumbersome mittens and a black guard covering her face was hilarious. We made a huge pile of bodies outside and watched shooting stars for hours. The close night sky was more expansive, luminous and breathtaking than I’ve ever seen it before. Our laughter kept us warm as we huddled together with our backs against the crumbling ancient stones and snow. We slept inside 2 sleeping bags and were relatively warm, thanks to body heat.

            Dawn came early and we shook the morning chill off with difficulty. The morning sun touched the rugged landscape and revealed the wall to us in all its glory for the first time. Whoever said the Great Wall was overrated didn’t see this morning. Your eye could trace it for miles into the distance; the extensive expanse is astronomical.

            We climbed, scrambled, and slid up and down the crazy angles of the wall for about 2 hours (some of the hills were covered in snow and ice and looked like 60 degree angles) before we took a zip line across the lake and had lunch.

            After returning to Beijing we put our stuff down in the hotel and saw the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, the Summer Palace (where I got roasted chestnuts for the first time—pretty good… different from what I expected. A very meaty nut, the chestnut). Naked branches of weeping willows lightly kissed the huge frozen lake beside the Summer Palace. The sun glinted off the ice as towering trees made long shadows and dappled light spots on the ancient walls and walkways.

            After the Summer Palace we stopped at the Beijing Olympic sights to see the Bird’s Nest and Swim Cube. Really crazy architecture. After we were chilled to the bone we stopped at a tea house to sample the local delicacies. Tiny women taught us to drink and eat properly. Some tea you slurp, some you sip, and some you smack, surprisingly enough.

            Time to depart Beijing! To the train station to catch the overnight sleeper to Shanghai. It was MCA’s 21st so we had a good time together. Very comfortable sleeper compartment—4 to a room (MCA, Charis, Carley, me). Arrived the next morning to a chilly, rainy Shanghai and went back to the boat for a nap. Our boat was delayed half a day so we had a bit more time to play around there but it was nasty out and we just stayed in and watched movies. Too exhausted!

            I loved China. The government was a little strange at times… Facebook and a few other major sites are blocked in China and the Tiananmen Square Massacre is a taboo subject that nobody every touches. One American student googled it when he was studying abroad in China and the police showed up at his door 2 hours later with a warning. It’s just kinda weird. But everything else was so cool. It’s such an ancient country with rich traditions and strong culture. Hard to not be impressed. 








Tiananmen Square. Freezing











Beijing, part of the Forbidden Palace.
































Tiananmen again
















The Great Wall.















Piling together for body heat.














Cute, bored rickshaw caddies.






Hong Kong.























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Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Streets of Vietnam


Might be our dinner tonight! Our guide swore it was still alive. And I'm pretty sure I saw it breathing.


















Ha Long Bay, Vietnam.

Front of the boat looking out into the bay.



The girls with Mr. David and Mrs. Susan, first night in Vietnam
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Nov. 3-7

Tuesday Nov. 3

Vietnam, the country tainted in American minds, came upon us in the night as we snaked up the Mekong Delta. The muddy churning water and flat lush land reminded me of home, minus the occasional cone-topped fisherman.
We docked at 11 am in Ho Chi Minh City, (formerly Saigon, renamed after the Southern leader Ho Chi Minh after the Vietnam War) and parents came on board, including Mr. David and Mrs. Susan Allen. Mary Chandler was so excited, and it was great to see familiar faces! After our ship was cleared and our passports stamped we took off in search of the legendary shopping. The Dong, the Vietnamese currency, goes a long way against the dollar… $1 = 17,856 Dong. So we were all millionaires and had a field day in the markets. There’s a black market of North Face (they “fall off” the trucks, apparently) and lots of other quality knock offs plus great jewelry, perfume, and general knick knacks (Asian knick knacks are a lot cooler). Can’t wait to show you what I got!
It’s hot… 90s and above, but I’m still drinking a lot of coffee… it’s incredible here. It’s one of their main exports. Iced coffee in the afternoon… hits the spot. Supposedly the best is called “weasel coffee”… very expensive and literal. The weasel eats the beans and the coffee producer collects them at the other end. Something about the acids in its stomach makes it delicious apparently. It’s like Jack Nicholson’s coffee in “The Bucket List” that he throws a fit over. I’ll let you know whether it’s worth the hype.
That night MCA’s parents took us out for dinner and drinks. MCA, me, Carley, Leigh Anne, Olivia, Kate, Bobby Lee, and Charis. We had some white wine at the rooftop bar of the Majestic and went to Lemongrass for dinner. Wonderful dinner… lots of cilantro, lemongrass, licorice, and coconut. Very light and fresh. Then went to the rooftop bar of the Rex hotel for an Irish coffee. Early morning tomorrow, so I jumped on the back of a motorbike taxi and zoomed through the pulsing, energetic night city air back to the ship.

Wed. Nov. 4
I didn’t sleep at all last night; I think I was nervous I wouldn’t wake up for my 430 am departure. So I was as bright eyed and bushy tailed at that 430 breakfast than I’ve ever been for an 800 one, but later I hit a wall and slid down it into oblivion for a while. A quick hour flight later we arrived in Hanoi, the capital city, and saw the Temple of Literature, a 1070 A.D. Confucius temple and place of esteemed scholarly pursuit. After the Chinese conquered the Vietnamese, the study of Confucius ideas and the Chinese language were integrated into the culture. After Vietnam’s independence, however, Chinese culture was largely rejected again. Vietnam had no official written language until 15 years ago, and it looks like mixed English letters with a bunch of crazy accents. Like most Asians, they have 6 different tones. It is exhausting trying to communicate sometimes! But they are friendly and very curious. I have a 6’5” black friend and walking down the street with him was hilarious.
After the temple a nice lunch:
· fresh noodles broth with chicken, pork sausage, meat boll, sliced egg, and mushroom
· fresh nem rolled with prawns, chasui, pineapple, and vegetables
· deep fried prawns with almond and fresh coconut
· stir-fried pork loin with cashews, mushrooms, bell peppers, and baby corn
· sautéed beef filet with green mango, bell pepper, and baby corn
· stir-fried seasonal veggies with garlic
· cream caramel
· Vietnamese coffee
Mary C, her parents, and I sat with Dr. Duran and his wife, Alicia. We really enjoyed them...especially after he said I had an A! After lunch a 3 hour drive took us to Ha Long Bay. We stopped halfway at a factory where young Vietnamese were sewing intricate pictures of rural scenes by hand. The threads of their labor came to life as we drove through rural Vietnam. Rice fields held small patches of land, each owned and worked by a different family. Water buffalo roamed freely as straw pointy hats bobbed in and out of sight between the tall emerald green sprigs. Sidewalks everywhere held miniature red and purple plastic tables and chairs, the perfect size for our toddlers and their handiwork. Tiny people fit naturally in the tiny furniture, cooking their dumplings, omelets, and soups and selling their jade jewelry on the side of the road. Homes were built in the town-house style—3 story, narrow width and long depth. It looked like someone had built a colonial 2 story house, squished it with his hands on both sides, and painted it a gaudy color. Most only had paint on the face of the house; the sides remained gray cement. It was as if the people were anticipating expansion and built to accommodate very close neighbors, but the rice paddies and dirt roads did not seem to beckon to industrial growth. Who knows, maybe I’m wrong. I hope not. I love the charm of rural towns.
Halong is a beach resort town, and the small craggy coast is dotted with casinos, hotels, and restaurants. We checked into the Halong Grand Hotel and had dinner at Cua vang (Golden Crab). Very good… all of their seafood was crawling outside the restaurant in pink plastic buckets, so we knew it was very fresh.

Thurs. Nov. 5
We checked out of our hotel and boarded an old wooden dinner boat in the bay. The magnificent scenery of Halong Bay is considered one of the natural wonders of the world, and rightly so. The weather was about 20 degrees cooler than Ho Chi Minh, in the pleasant 70s, and there was not a cloud in the sky. The bay’s tranquil beauty encompasses 1,500 square miles dotted with more than 1,000 limestone islands and islets. Bizarre rock sculptures jut dramatically from the sea, and numerous grottoes create a picturesque setting. The sails of the junks and sampans gliding on the bay added to the timeless beauty of the sea, and we passed a floating fisherman village. The bright sun danced on the water, creating a twinkling light show that the Jones could only wish to achieve in their gaudy Christmas lawn displays. We weaved in between the massive rocks for four hours. We filled the time with a seafood lunch, a refreshing swim, and lots of tanning.
After our relaxing day on the bay we drove back to Hanoi and checked into another hotel. Mary C and I found a cheap place for massages and got an hour for $8. It was kinda sketchy though… The guy walked us to our separate rooms, pointed to the shower,vb and said “shower” about 4 times. I guess the masseuses get a lot of dirty people in there? Anyway, I took a shower and lay down in the relatively bright room. Adjacent from me was a long mirror, which I found strange. There was also no spa music or oil, which I missed because it kind of burned when she’d rub my arms really hard. But it was a really funny experience, glad I did it.
Crossing the street in Hanoi was an intense experience. There are virtually no stop lights, and motorbikes and cars flow in a constant thick stream. You’ll never get across the street if you don’t step out into oncoming traffic. You just continue across the street at a steady pace, and the traffic anticipates your path; it is when you hesitate or speed up that you get into trouble. No spazing allowed, or you get slammed by a 30 mile an hour motorcycle. I loved it! Laughed the whole time. Really thrilling. Wish I could have video-taped it; you wouldn’t have believed it. That night Susan, David, and MCA were tired of being groupy and decided to go to Vino, a Lonely Planet suggestion instead of seeing the planned water puppet show. No complaints there, although I’m sure the water puppets were thrilling. I had the Nah Trang seafood risotto. Very good.

Fri. Nov 6
An early breakfast (but I would get up early every morning for this coffee!!), and we set off to see Hanoi. We saw the One Pillar Pagoda (little shrine), Ba Dinh Square, Ho Chi Minh’s house, and Tran Quoc Pagoda. Shopping in the old city center was incredible… they had streets of nothing but shoes, streets of sunglasses, streets of purses, streets of backpacks, of shirts… it was crazy. But very organized. I didn’t have to waste any time on a sunglass street if I knew I wanted hiking boots. We ate lunch at another Lonely Planet recommendation, Medditerano, a fabulous Italian restaurant, and had a veggie pizza. Really good. I love Italian. Flight back to Ho Chi Minh that afternoon and said goodbye to Susan and David after drinks at their hotel. I had a wonderful time with them! They really took care of me, and they are just fun people in general.

Sat. Nov 7
Last day in Vietnam! Leisure day… shopping again to complete my Christmas gifts and to a spa with Carina and Gefa. Had a wonderful 2 hour aromatherapy massage, manicure, and pedicure, all for $53. We could have gotten it cheaper at another spa, but this one was pretty nice. Spent about 4 hours at the spa. SO much fun!! Then the girls picked up their dresses they had made, I bought 20 movies for $20, and we went back to the ship. Left at 6 am the next morning. Farewell, Saigon!
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Chennai, India


(Left): The bullock cart at the village.
(Right): A lady of the ghost town before the village.



Me sitting on the "welcome" porch of the village home.
Chennai, India
October 23-27

Friday 10/23/09
This morning as we landed in the fourth largest city of India—a city of 7 million—I was excited and a little apprehensive. I had no idea what India had in store for me. We were told that the white part of the ship would be black by the time we left, and the stewards had coated the high traffic areas of the ship with cardboard and plastic. We were warned not to eat anything uncooked, not to drink the water, eat the ice, or open our mouths in the shower. We were also told not to give money to beggars, especially the children because they will more than likely turn it around to their gangster—a la Oliver Twist and Slum Dog Millionaire. You only feed the industry of begging and encourage parents to send children out into the streets instead of to school by giving them money. Yet the slums and corruption is only a small part of Indian life—the middle class is growing, and the Indian people I’ve met are quick to remind me of the good parts of Indian life. Their funny dialect and friendly smiles are part of what makes their culture theirs.
We entered the city center among bicycle rickshaws and 3 wheeled taxis called auto rickshaws. Indians believe in honking… I don’t think they even notice that they do it. But the horns are too high-pitched to be angry; they sound like clown-car horns. The rickshaws actually have the squeak horn that adorns five-year-olds’ bikes at home, so even if it’s a really angry Indian that thinks he has the right of way, you can’t take him seriously.
India has three temperatures, according to locals—hot, hotter, and hottest. The Indian sun did not disappoint; he made our foreheads glisten and melted the rest of us a little. India, 81% Hindu and 9% Muslim, is a conservative country. Clad in heavy jeans, I found myself lusting after the light, breezy, and loose clothes of the natives. Plus they just look awesome. The women in their bright, long, gauzy saris and the men in loose slouchy pants and button down collared shirts made handsome couples. It seems that all women in India are beautiful, especially the young ones my age. Their features are so striking—high cheekbones, big dark eyes, jet black hair. India loves color; even the street vendors arrange their pyramids of apples in a spectrum of dark to light.
We went to Fort St. George, a military compound that is the center of the Tamil government. Southern India speaks Tamil, northern India speaks Hindi, and those two governments make up the Union or Central government. The Central Government rules India’s 28 states and seven union territories or the Republic of India. It’s a democracy with 3 branches, with a president and a prime minister making up the executive branch. Inside the compound was Saint Mary’s Church, a reflection of British colonization.
After we visited the church we continued along the Marina of the Bay of Bengal beside the second longest beach in the world. (The longest is Florida). We arrived at a nice oriental rug shop with a show room on the first floor and beautiful wood and iron statues on the second. We were given the most fantastic coffee I’ve had in a while—I almost did a little dance around the Indian that gave it to me after I tasted it. It was fascinating to see how an oriental rug is made. The guy was a great salesman… if I wasn’t a broke college kid he would have had me.
Outside a snake charmer got our attention when a cobra popped out of his little basket. We quickly got on the bus and went to the ancient Hindu Kapalushwar Temple. Hinduism is a hard religion to peg; it is much more a way of life than a religion, per se. It has so many options for the worshipper that outsiders tend to get confused. It doesn’t claim one prophet, one dogma, one philosophy, or one god. It has 3 main gods who the big shrines in temples are devoted to—Shiva, god of anger, passion, dance; Vishnu, a popular god and protector; and Ganesh, the elephant god of travel and undertaking of projects. They believe in Brahma, a formless, abstract eternal being without attributes—the “that” behind and beyond reality. They also believe in reincarnation, samsara, the endless cycle of death and rebirth. The soul, atma, is separated from Brahma (Ultimate Reality) and trapped in samsara until it attains Moksha or liberation from samsara and reunion with Brahma. Moksha can be attained by works, knowledge, or passionate devotion.
When following dharma, the path of works, you must fulfill your social and religious obligations like:
· follow your caste occupation,
· marry within your caste,
· and raise a son to do the same.
The caste system is still very prevalent in India, and people of higher castes don’t associate with the lower castes, even though everyone has a vital role in society and depend on each other. The lowest caste (now called OC or other caste; the term “untouchables” is considered politically incorrect) cleans the city, cremates people, and does all the things higher castes see unfit to do.
When following inana, the path of knowledge, to obtain Moksha, one uses self-renunciation, meditation, and yoga. This path is only open to men of the highest castes or Brahman (learned men, priests).
The Bhakti path, the way of Moksha by passionate devotion, is the most popular way. You may choose any of the 330 million gods, goddesses, or demigods and passionately worship that particular god (usually Vishnu or Shiva).
It seems to me a crazy religion with lots of cows, bulls, elephants, combination creatures, and gods of four arms and 3 heads. Fascinating, but strange.
The Kapaleeshwar Temple in Chennai is in the old section, and when we got there, as is custom, we left our shoes with the keeper and paid 20 rupee ($.50) to have a picture permit. The temple had many shrines to various gods where among dripping candles and splashing rose water, devotees were marked on their foreheads with a white streak. The main shrine reminded me faintly of Disney world with comical colorful animated figures covering the tall flattened pyramid roof of the temple. At the center of the temple yard, tucked behind the shrine was a cow-pen, which is a sacred animal to Hindus. Walking barefoot on the 300 B.C. floor inside, I was reminded of my senses. I likened my feet, now absorbing the cold worn stone, to my hands when they trailed along the marble of cathedrals in Europe. How different these two places of worship were!
Back out in the loud, dirty, crazy streets, we watched women making beautiful flower garlands of jasmine and marigold to sell at the temple for offerings. Motorbikes carrying entire Indian families—father driving, mother seated side-saddle on the back holding a child, and a little boy sandwiched happily in between—whizzed by, making their comical beep.
That night it was our friend Charis Brassel from Nashville’s 21st birthday, so we went to the Taj Hotel for dinner. We walked into a beautiful courtyard and sat beneath a gazebo to have some great southern Indian food. We had light appetizers: Chennai pancakes with different chutneys (I think peanut and coconut) and chicken coconut with coriander and green curry dish served with naan, the thick crepe bread. I was so full but still had mango ice cream and cake for Charis (chocolate mousse actually). Also had some fabulous coffee again. Great night.
10/24 Sat. Kancheepuram/ Mamallapuram
Known as the “Golden City,” Kancheepuram is a holy site for many Hindus due to its 100 + temples (most inactive historical sites). About an hour and a half from Chennai, this small town is famous in India and the world for its very fine silk. Our Indian friends told us if you are going to buy silks, Kancheepuram is the best.
First we went to the 1200 year old lonely Kalasantha temple, a pantheon of sandstone. As tradition, a bull sat at the entrance of this Shiva temple, worn by time to a rudimentary form. Inside the deserted walls cubby holes were intricately carved for monks’ meditations—the Brahman trying to reach Moksha. I squeezed in one; not very comfortable, but our guide said that was the point. Our only company was the Brahman keeper at the entrance and the occasional bright green parakeet.
I kicked off the converses again at Ekambareswara temple, an impressive and working 10 story temple dedicated to Vishnu. This 16th century place of worship housed the legendary 3,500 year old mango tree, a gem of Hindus and the favorite science wonder of botanists everywhere. It produced mangos until 2 years ago when it mysteriously collapsed. The legend says that Vishnu and Shiva were married under that tree and an important prophet gained enlightenment under it.
The last Kanchi temple, Vaikuntanatha, we reached at the height of the day, and the stone leading to the shrine felt like hot coals to our feet. Also erected in the 16th century, the Vaikuntantha temple is known as the “hall of 96 pillars.” When we arrived men were washing the dust off the pillars with long brushes and soapy water, preparing for a visit from the President.
Next was what I had been looking forward to—silk shopping! The little shop was tucked away from the road on a side street, right next to a pen of chocolate cows with big brown eyes. The silk in the shop felt exactly like a Ferragamo scarf when it melted gracefully over my hands (not that I’ve felt that many). I got 3 scarves, 2 small pashminas, and 3 round silk cushions of brilliant blue, green, and red. The weaving room on the second story contained 4 silk looms and the weaver was working on a red pashmina with red and real gold thread.
Mamallapuram (puram means “place”) held lunch at an exotic Radisson- a traditional Southern Indian buffet that was delicious. We all ate way too much. The salt air of this coastal city hung thick as we got off to see a huge mural of stone carved into a rock face. Called Arjuna’s Penance, this intricately carved scene is the biggest bas-relief in the world. It depicts the wasted body of Arjuna in the yoga pose “tree” in appeal to Shiva for a weapon to destroy his enemies. The mural depicts the 7th day when Shiva comes to grant Arjuna’s request and a huge heavenly host turns up for the event.
We then went to the Five Rathas, large carvings in a sand pit of the heroes of Mahabharata, a famous Indian epic. I didn’t hear much of the history because I was so distracted by the flood of young girls in peach saris that had also come to the sight. They were training to be teachers and loved talking to us but, like all 13 year olds, got very giggly quickly. Also their English was broken so I didn’t get very far in a conversation with any of them. The flowing salmon color on their black skin was stunning and the group had a cheerleader effect-they all looked gorgeous in a group. The really funny thing that we were beginning to notice in India is that we, especially in the small cities of India, were as much as interesting novelty to the Indians as they were to us. We had families take pictures in front of us and people snap them with their camera phones when we walked by. I liked it though—made me feel better about asking if I could take a picture of them too!
We were worn out by our day of touring, but before we left Mamallapuram we had to see one more temple and the most famous of the day, the Shore Temple. The Shore temple, reached after a long grassy promenade, was the gateway temple that everyone leaving the area and coming in (even the king) stopped to ask safe passage from Vishnu and Ganesh. Cows of sandstone, worn faceless by the salty breeze and constant beating of the elements, outlined the temple. The big tsunami that devastated the eastern coast of India five years ago hit this temple hard and it took a lot of damage. Also taking in the sight was another group of young student teachers, this time clad in bright blues and hot pinks. They clustered around us with the same shyness and giggles, even the boys!
10/25 Sunday
Leigh Anne met some Indian girls our age at the Welcome Reception the 1st night that she liked a lot. Yoga and Lucky are both studying to be dentists and offered to take her out for shopping and lunch. She took me along, and it ended up being the coolest day! Lucky’s driver, Kennedy, and her hot older brother, Kanna, came to pick us up at the ship gate in their tiny little black car at 10 this morning and took us to their home. The live close to the beach in a nice neighborhood. Lucky’s granddad was a very famous Tamil poet and her father was a Bollywood director. We took our shoes off before going in to meet all of her family—Kanna and Sharan, her older and younger brothers, her mother, her uncles, and her aunt that made breakfast for us. They sat us at the table and watched us try the traditional breakfast foods they made. Trying to eat daintily with our fingers wasn’t easy! There was a white sticky lump of rice and dan that you dip in a chutney (kinda tasted like a sweet salsa), this orange lump that was sweet, and thin sweet crepes (or whatever they’re called in India). Her aunt kept on bringing more and more food and we were stuffed before we realized—curse the expanding nature of rice! Kanna sat down and ate some with us, accompanied by an Indian People magazine.
After washing our fingers in the sink right next to the dining room table, we went back to Lucky’s room. Lucky is called Satiya by everyone but her family, but she wanted us to call her Lucky. Kanna told us on the ride to the house that the hospital had a power outage when their mom was in labor with her and the power came on just in time, hence her nickname. Lucky gave Leigh Anne and I some necklaces from her closet and her mom gave us a little gold figurine of one of the gods, both of which we will cherish forever. Lucky’s favorite god is Ganesh, the one with the elephant head and man’s body. We gave her a random mixed cd that we burned for her; Leigh Ann put some big band swing and good 90s; I gave her a little Girl Talk, MGMT, Band of Horses, Avett Brothers, Santigold, and Old Crow Medicine Show. No idea how that’s going to be received. Definitely a RANDOM mix.
Next off for a little Indian shopping! Lucky’s driver Kennedy dropped us at Spencers, a popular local shopping mall, where we met the other friend, Yoga. Yoga is petite, sweet, and beautiful like Lucky. All Indians really do do the bobble-head thing when they mean “ok” or “good” or “sure”—that’s not a cliché—and Lucky and Yoga are no exceptions! They were so cute. We walked around in the mall, and I got some cool gold and red flats and some really full Aladdin pants—red with gold specks. Not going to wear both together, don’t worry. Yoga’s a good bargainer and got the shoes for $12 and pants $5. Also got a few bangles and some cool Tamil party music. Still stuffed, but they said we had to try Pani Poori, a snack. This little vendor in the mall looked like it had food poisoning written all over it, but we couldn’t say no. These very thin hollow crispy rice balls were punched at the top and dipped in either hot or sweet sauce and served in a small bowl. You put the whole thing in your mouth and usually eat about 5. It was good, but I was still so full from breakfast! The people in southern India are like the people in the South; now I know how the Australians that visited us felt! Walked around some more, got a cookie and this dessert called Shree Mithal made of condensed milk that had curdled in the center, making a spongy, tofu like texture that you eat cold and with a spoon.
Now… I can’t believe it.. it’s time for a late lunch. AH! We went to this local restaurant, Sea Shell, and LA and I split mushroom masala with rice and naan. Ok, don’t know where the room came from in my hollow leg for that. Shopped a bit more after lunch and got dropped back at the ship around 430 to rest and recoup before going out!
Kanna picked us up at 9 at the gate and Giri, the interport student from Chennai came along too. But Kanna was so nice and, thank goodness, rolled with it and let him come. They are in the same caste and live two streets down from each other but didn’t know each other! Giri goes to Loyola college, the same as the younger brother Sharan, but it’s a big school so they didn’t know each other. But they were facebook friends! Ah the overwhelming connecting power of the FB. We met Lucky, her cousins, Sharan, and their friends at Pasha, a small but fancy club that I’m told, is frequented by Bollywood actors. We actually saw one, but they said he was like D-list. Had a King Fisher Indian beer and had a really good time dancing. After the club closed at 1130 (Sunday night), we really wanted coffee so we drove out to the Chennai airport! Ok, but it was sooo worth it. Coffee = incredible here. The rickshaws had gone home for the night when we got back, so it was nice to have Giri to walk back with to the ship. Pooh and Giri, the Chennai students, are staying on board until we depart Chennai.

Mon 10/26 Village visit
Today might have been the best day of my trip thus far. First of all, there was an omelet station at breakfast this morning and I halved on with one of my friends. Then, with nobody really knowing what to expect, we got on our small bus and headed out. The group size was about 20; so much nicer than the huge groups of 40. Everybody’s still at the Taj Mahal so all of our trips have been small and wonderful. About 2 hours later we walked through this tiny town to a big temple that was out of proportion to its small host. Like a ghost town almost. Random cows, goats, monkeys, and chickens roaming free. The cows and dogs here are best buddies; they run around together everywhere.
Then about 30 minutes down the road ini Thirudorur Village, we gathered around the large square reservoir, the main source of water for the village. I’ve seen these square reservoirs in all the towns I’ve been in, usually in front of a temple. The people used to absolve themselves and bathe before entering the temple, but that’s not really done anymore. Now they are developing main line off the reservoir so the government can set up sanitation programs and underground infrastructure.
Down the dirt road and past colorful and worn looking concrete houses, I looked to my left and saw a striking juxtaposition- a towering and huge power line shouldering a squat thatched roof hut. Past meets future in front of my face. We were given a traditional welcome by the “Mother Teresa” of the village; a women that volunteers all her time to feed children, welcome visitors, and check up on everyone. She held in her hand a copper pan. A tin red sauce coated the bottom, and a leaf with three white cubes skimmed the surface. She lit the cubes and chanted blessing and welcome for us. We then received dots on our foreheads and under our chins with oil and red powder.
Our guide stopped in front of a huge campaign poster the size of a billboard for the next local election. It looked as bizarre and out of place as the power tower in the little rural village. Candidates come to the villages and paint their symbols on village walls. Clock graffiti was everywhere—that’s one candidate’s version of Obama’s field and sunrise logo.
We went inside a tiled roof house with the traditional side sitting porch. The porch is raised and close to the roof so travelers could sit and rest a while or stay the night and take advantage of the hospitality so warmly offered. That doesn’t happen so much anymore because people feel it’s dangerous and don’t trust strangers as much. A pity—such a charming idea. Travel by day, crash on a friendly porch at night and chat over chai for hours in the cool shade of a neem tree. The small house had one common shade of brilliant turquoise throughout, though time had taken an artistic scratch and rub in a few places. They had a small shrine room and bedrooms that all opened onto the main living and kitchen. Tiny short people too—had to stoop inside and duck through doorways. The backyard was the kitchen—big pots, grinder (like a mortar and pestle), and fire sticks. They gave us some wonderful chai tea, and we all said “robo nadrie” meaning many thanks for letting us into their home. Outside were chalk designs—a sign of welcome and happiness inside the home. These designs are done new every day unless the family was mourning a death. A girl showed us how she did it—with a ground mix of chalk and rice, she pinched a bit to make dots and drew. She asked for a volunteer and I drew a crazy lopsided thing… fun though.
We heard clopping and commotion behind us and saw oxen-pulled trailers or bullock carts arrive for us. They took us to the rice patty. I was furiously taking pictures and didn’t zip my purse… it flipped over and my shore pass, the very important travel document the port agents require us to have in India, flew into the massive well. Sounds like me, doesn’t it? A tiny little Indian man looked at me and said, “Important?” “Yes!” I replied as I sadly nodded my head. If we lose this it’s possible to get another but we were under the impression that a heavy fine and lots of disgruntled huffs were imparted by officials as a result. Without hesitation the little man began climbing down the small ledges that jutted out in a spiral, working his way down to the water. A long stick was thrown to him, and he fished the document out to my delight and the entertainment of all. I happily stuffed and zipped everything back in my purse and sloshed after our group to the far end of the paddy, where the planting was taking place. Men would pluck the green sprigs from the watery mud, bundle them, and leave them for the women. Bending in a constant position from the waist with saris rolled and tucked, the women would separate the sprigs of green and stick them back in the watery mud. This process gives the rice more room and it grows bigger and produces more abundantly. We then were given an opportunity to plant alongside the women, and I rolled up my pants and sloshed ankle-deep in the mud. I was handed a bundle by the women and watched rows being formed before I began making my own. It was easy work, if tedious; the rice slid smoothly past water into mud and found its new happy home.
After we washed the mud from our hands and feet, we thanked the workers with “robo nandrie” again (or “many thanks” in Tamil). We hopped back on our rural chariots and rolled off to the coconut grove, where a man with a machete gave us the purest and healthiest drink in India—the juice of the coconut. I also ate some its white flesh, which tasted like a chewy slimy version of the coconut I’m used to. We watched him climb a tree and retrieve the fruit, and then we tried. I only got like 2 feet off the ground, but some of the guys were about 7 feet.
It was now time for lunch and we thanked the village for hosting us. Before our next stop, we popped in at a school (one of the guides was a teacher and wanted to introduce his students to us). Clad in blue pinstripe dresses with a crisp white bib that was v-necked over the dress, the uniform was classy and complimented the rick black skin tone of the girls. They wore 2 long braids in a loop that were secured at the top with white bows that they said their mothers arranged for them. The girls were on one side of the room, and the boys were on another. They showed me their economics, accounting, and English books and reminded me of the giggly teenagers we had encountered the other day. Very sweet and extremely interested in us. As our guide talked, I wrote notes to all the girls on the front row and whispered and giggled with them. They all wanted to shake my hand and one ran up to me and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Sweet.
Lunch was at the Dakshinachitra Cultural heritage village—traditional southern Indian cuisine. This center was established to bring all aspects of rural village life together to preserve and educate. The lay out was the same as a village might have been, and we were taken around to see silk weaving, glass blowing, rice grinding, basket making, and pottery throwing. I threw a pot, but I botched it the first time and the tiny Indian helped me with the second. The villagers are all so small here! Everyone’s about 5 feet. There was a small market at the center and my guide helped me bargain for 2 silk hangings and some bangles. Got a good deal, I think. I loved seeing the vastly different side of rural life in India and enjoyed the trip.
Tuesday 10/27
Last day in India. Leigh Anne and I hopped on an auto rickshaw and set off for the markets. We told our driver, Manthu, we wanted to buy some jewelry, and he said no problem, I take you to nice place. He then showed us his laminated letter of thanks and approval from a previous Semester at Sea student and his ring of honesty from the government. The oriental rug place he took us was deserted and very nice, but the jewelry price point was a little bit more than what we wanted. He then took us to the street markets, which were too cheap. So we hopped back in our rickety motorized 3 wheeler and met our Indian friends at Mocha, a popular coffee place, for a last wonderful conversation and chai tea.
Kanna took us back to the port gate, and we waved goodbye for the last time. Goodbye to a place of distinct personality and quirky spunk. A place of dirt and grime, of foul sewage smells and white fragrant jasmine temple flowers. Of traditional dance with flexed hands and feet and extreme facial expressions. Of crazy driving and sometimes crazier ethics. Of huge elaborate wedding and spicy wonderful food. Goodbye to the land of Bollywood, red dots of adornment, and sacred cows. Of prevalent castes and welcoming hospitality. Of cheating and petty crime and warm, good-natured hearts. Goodbye to India, an exotic place where I was challenged, over stimulated, amazed. I loved my affair with you.
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    • Hello hello

    Hey guys!

    (or ya'll as I should say.. I can't seem to not say it very southern and everyone comments on my accent.. Didn't think I sounded that southern! Apparently so. Cool though, although I wish I had an awesome Southern drawl like our grandmothers do... "Heeehhloo dahlin', haow ahhrr you? It's balmy out, esn't it?").. Love that.

    ANYWAY. I'm doing Semester at Sea through UVA this semester, August 28- Dec 14. Please keep in touch, the free email I get to use is blvarner@semesteratsea.net and I can use it anytime. Facebook I'll only use in port briefly bc it eats up all our not free internet time. PLEASE keep in touch, I'll miss all of you so much. Love you!

    Lane


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