Micronomicon Abroad

MORE!

2008-01-02T10:50:00.001-08:00

After I returned from Asia I spent a couple of months in San Francisco and then to the Marshall Islands as a volunteer teacher. Since my island return, I had a children's book published, and now I am heading back to Asia!

Join me! I've got a FAQ on the way, and will be posting minutiae quite often, along with photos of everything I eat and everywhere I sleep!

Updates and BIG News

2006-07-05T09:28:00.000-07:00

I have been back almost four months now. Sharing the adventure complimented my experiences in many ways, and I truly appreciate the spoken and unspoken support I have received through this blog. Onto the news...

There has been a major update in the notebook- 32 new pages are now available, with thumbnails coming soon, and a new first image: a collage illustrating the size of the notebook. The newly added pages start with image x=47. I'm also working on a guestbook for comments over there- let me know if you have any ideas.

And some big news: I am about to begin another adventure! One week ago I accepted a volunteer teaching position with WorldTeach in their Marshall Islands program! WorldTeach was started in 1986 by Harvard students, and places volunteers in developing nations as teachers. The program lasts for one year, with a chance of renewal. After the first month, during which I will be in training and take Marshallese courses, I will move to my island and live without electricity and running water.

Despite difficulties of living so simply, I have a new blog which I plan to update through letters I mail home that are scanned and posted by a close friend. Check out the new blog!

Please consider donating to my Dropcash campaign (via paypal). Many of the schools suffer for lack of supplies, and I am trying to raise as much as I can to aid my school. I have a unique opportunity, as I will be the first in the program's history to teach at my particular school. Please consider donating a few bucks, and if you would rather send books, supplies, or letters, you'll find more information in the Letters Home blog.

Thanks so much!!

MONEY!

2006-06-19T14:26:00.000-07:00

Whenever traveling, I record every penny passing through my fingers. Whether finding one Quetzal, losing two Shillings, or buying an eighty Dollar train ticket, I write it down. On this trip I 'balanced' the contents of my coin purse at least once a day. In the midst of begging children, dying animals, chaotic festivals, roaming hands of roaming men, and 30 hour trains- something like this is a true constant- needless and monotonous in its simple joy. Here is a look at one of my expense book pages(I used a small gridded Moleskine)from my time in China (rough exchange rate- 8 RMB = 1 USD):

You can see a few more pages here.

All of my other trips were under three months long, and compiling at the end was easy and often accomplished on the plane ride home. Here is the post about my previous trip (one month long). This time, however, it was more difficult:

* 167 pages
* 2170 entries
* 10 currencies
   Chinese Yuan, Mongolian Tughrik, Nepali Rupee, Indian Rupee,
   Thai Baht, Cambodian Riel, Lao Kip, Singapore Dollar, Malaysian
   Ringgit and United States Dollar

Thousands of dollars, and I can account for all but $21.29 of it! Take a look below to see EXACTLY what 6.5 months in Asia cost me.

Pre-trip Expenses

Air.......................................................................... $30.00
  -taxes only; I used frequent flyer miles for my open jaw:
   Houston, TX to Newark, NJ to Beijing, China and
   Singapore to San Francisco, CA (unused leg SF, CA - Hou, TX)
Visas (China and India)............................................. $115.00
Travel Insurance...................................................... $238.00
Guidebooks............................................................... $38.26
Clothes and Shoes..................................................... $125.91
Misc.......................................................................... $95.81

Total Pre-trip Expenses: $642.98

Expenses During Trip*
  *expenses meticulously kept during trip and converted
   for this blog using date-sensitive exchange rates.

Transport............................................................... $1336.40
Air - $389.12
  -Chengdu, China to Lhasa, Tibet, China (inc. permit)
  -Calcutta, India to Bangkok, Thailand
  -Bangkok, Thailand to Singapore
Local (bus/train/rickshaw/taxi/ferry/etc) - $190.73
Long Distance (bus/train) - $390.66
  -includes 7 overnight buses and 14 overnight trains (!)
Mongolian Van, Driver and Petrol - $365.89

Accommodation.................................................... $522.69
   note: overnight train and bus fees inc. in "transport"

Food...................................................................... $863.44
Restaurants - $484.84
Street Food - $71.73
Convenience Stores - $187.09
Other (beverages/fast food/ice cream/alcohol) - $119.78

Amusement/Attractions............................................ $437.42
General Attractions - $220.90
Museums - $24.12
Monasteries and Temples - $32.36
Tours - $70.09
Other (movies/arcade/etc) - $89.95

Communication/Post............................................. $382.52
Internet/Burning CDs - $139.64
Post - $20.37
Calling Cards and Phone Calls - $59.29
Sending Packages Home - $163.22

Souvenirs and Purchases........................................ $1207.94
Toiletries - $25.37
Paper Goods etc - $57.48
Personal Souvenirs - $633.24
  -includes heavy clothing for Mongolia
DVDs/CDs/MP3cds - $117.46
Paintings (Thangka and Bengali) - $278.16
Gifts - $96.23

Other....................................................................... $398.01
Saved Local Currency - $4.81
Unknown/Lost - $21.29
Laundry - $15.22
Beggars - $20.43
Gifts for Locals - $116.44
Visas/Immigration - $136.71
Books - $39.76
Other - $43.35

Pre-trip Expenses .............. $642.98
Trip Expenses .................. $5148.42
----------------------------------
Total Expenses ...................... $5791.40

I did not have a budget, but anticipated spending $5000-$8000. Generally speaking, the countries I went to are known for inexpensive travel, though luxuries are not hard to come by! I lived and ate very cheaply, and could have spent less overall, but I'm a sucker for indigenous art and textiles (I bought 30 paintings in India), and I definitely did not want to deny myself the occassional ice-cream cone or first-class bus!

Thanks for coming by! Happy travels.

Recycled Eyeglasses

2006-06-12T16:52:00.000-07:00

I've been back for three months- so long that I've started mourning the end of the adventure. Settling temporarily in San Francisco has been fantastic, though I do not find myself dedicated to working again and making this permanent.

You know that saying about rose-colored glasses? I think culture is like that, permeating everything in our lives. When I found myself around Westerners again there was an extended period of readjustment. I felt as if I forgot to put on my glasses, that I was a foreigner to the motivations and desires of the people around me. When I saw recognizable Punjabs in turbans I wanted to approach them and talk about curry and Amritsar. When I saw a Cambodian man at Best Buy I wanted to ask him about his family and Pol Pot.

I'm feeling a little lost now, but working on plans for the next year (which may be pretty exciting!). In the near future, there will be several updates to the site, including a breakdown of my expenses for the Asia trip next Monday, as well as more photos and Notebook updates!

Check Out

2006-03-01T09:46:00.000-08:00

I have checked out. I stopped taking pictures and writing doing touristy things. I hang out and walk and eat and read and scribble in the notebook. When a decent scanner crosses my path I'll upload some goodies over there. Have you wondered how you might like the distances covered on this journey? I've been thinking a lot about how I liked them and what kinds of people I met and what kinds of people would like these places and people- the ones I loved, the ones I loathed. What follows is a capsulized description of my experiences in the seven new countries I visited on this trip (the final two, Malaysia and Singapore are not described here since my time with them is so limited).

1. China

China can be very difficult. English is not widely spoken (not that it should be). Mandarin is tonal and difficult for Western tongues. This means that a single syllable, ma for instance, has several means based on a rising tone, stagnant tone, etc. China is huge, and most of the places tourists go are grossly polluted- as mentioned in the blog previously, there are over 100 cities with over a million people in China. Still, the independent traveler will a lot of time and patience can find gems of secluded villages in places like Yunnan province in the South. Tibet is wonderful (and dying) culturally, but a bit overrated, especially since the magical Nepal is so close by (see item 3).

2. Mongolia

Mongolia is paradise for nature and adventure lovers. But you also have to be patient and understand cultural relativism. Be prepared to eat a lot of mutton. The Mongolian capital Ulan Bator is deceptively modern and familiar for travelers, but beyond lies a mess of dirt roads that very few could have a chance of navigating. You are therefore left with two options for exploring the country, as driving yourself is possible but ridiculous for normal folk (and flying won't get you to enough places). You can take public transport, but you'll be stacked like a sardine for 10,20, or more hours straight in a Russian van designed to hold about 8 comfortably. Your other option is quite economical. Get yourself to UB and either posts signs in traveler hangouts or read the ones posted. Get together with 2-4 other travelers who want to see the same sights on the same route and hire a van and driver. This will set you back $35-$45 USD a day. Split between 4 people, assuming you self-cater often and camp most nights, expect to spend $20-$25 per person, per day (petrol is expensive). Mongolians have an amazing history, Genghis or his predecessors could have owned the world but a sickness and following events changed everything. The land is harsh, and the fare for your tummy might be difficult. It is a great place, with rewards for the adventurer in you.

3. Nepal

I was in Nepal during the ceasefire, and even though the State Department warned against travel there, I felt safe the entire time, but I am not sure how I would feel there now, especially after a devastating election. Disregarding Nepali politics, it is a lovely place. There isn't much to see for the casual traveler, but someone into trekking will see sights available nowhere else on earth. If you're a little chicken, see them the easy way and travel overland between Lhasa and Kathmandu (better this direction and not the other). You can do this with a private jeep or a local bus. Nepali people are kind and thoughtful, the food is good, and tourism doesn't overrun the country as it does in Thailand. Much of Nepal still has a sweet purity (except for Pokara- 'lakeside' is obnoxious), and it is very cheap- cheaper than India even. On my way home I'm putting my account book into categories and I will have some stats and totals for the trip to share (something like the entry MoneyMoneyMoney, which detailed my expenses for one month in SE Asia a couple years back. Magical children live here- they love your love and time and friendship.

4. India

India is not for everyone. Everything you have heard is true. People do sometimes defecate in the streets and parts of most cities smell like sewers. It can be a mess and your tummy will suffer. Begging women with drugged children, old men with missing limbs and children half-naked in dirty rags will accost you. India is not for everyone. When traveling through the Bangkok airport today I met some Indians heading back home. It did not take long for a conversation about our shared love for their homeland. One gentleman asked me why I liked it so much. It is hard to say. I was lucky (beyond words) to stay with a family and most of my intersections with others were pleasant. There were little troubles at every turn, on every bus and train and with every meal, but the variety of languages and people, the swelling life bursting from the seams of shacks and restaurants was overwhelming and fulfilling. It was scary thinking about traveling there, I wanted to love it, I wanted to get what people were talking about. After such a wonderful time Thailand was a shock, and I have found that a lot of others share this feeling. My gut dislike faded (see below) with Thailand, but the intensity India brings about could not be replicated.

5. Thailand

The 'land of smiles' is... not. Thailand is a vacation spot. With proper time and transport you can uncover some jungle-y riches, but the government (nevermind current turmoil) had allocated its tourism riches so well that this country of 66 million has an infrastructure to die for. This is good and bad- 7-11s are everywhere- even 40 meters from each other- it is just like I imagine Canada except fewer horses. The backpacker's path is well worn- with every step you'll feel the instep of a guy with a huge pack (3 week trip) who got fake dreads in Bangkok and wears a t-shirt proclaiming "No Money, No Honey" (he has neither- not surprisingly- and "plays guitar, mostly Hendrix shit"). You won't discover any long-lost tribes here, but you might find some secluded and pristine beaches (just hurry up). This is the place to come if you aren't a stickler for bargaining- good prices are all around, but know you're paying a premium because of your skin color. The way of SE Asia is a two-tiered pricing system. You can't fight it without serious Thai skills and knowledge of how cheap things are. It is very cheap compared to the West, yes, but India, in contrast, is a place where it is possible, and much easier, to pay what locals pay. Thais are generally reserved and dislike confrontation, but in the South and central areas they can be somewhat aggressive and refuse to let you pay local prices. This is especially unnerving for people that come from other parts of Asia. If you have any trepidation about Asia, it is a wonderful place to start travel in the region.

6. and 7. Cambodia and Laos

These countries have experienced a high rise in tourism as Thailand and Vietnam spruce up shared roads and border crossings. Once seen as serene and overlooked, there are plenty of travellers in both places. This is good- you can find spaghetti and meatballs or a cheese omelet any time of day in the main cities and still see things people love about these places. Namely, Angkor in Cambodia and the Mekong in Laos. Roads are a bit better in Laos but travel overall is very easy, but maybe dusty and hot. See the previous post for what to expect- bring some patience. Laos is very laid back, secrets and noodles await your visit- just don't turn it into Thailand.

I've loved sharing this trip- the support and comments have made it even better. I'll post some money and packing stuff soon. Questions are welcome.

How To: Getting to Laos

2006-02-17T18:25:00.000-08:00

1. From your cheap guesthouse in Siem Reap (Angkor Wat's home) buy a ticket (4 bucks) to Poipet at the Cambodia/Thailand border. The guy at the guesthouse may tell you the bus leaves at 8am, but that could mean as early as 7:30 or as late as 9am. When it arrives to scoop you up, don't expect anyone to tell you what to do with your bag, and don't be annoyed when it ends up in the aisle of the 20-seater mini-bus and has 17 dusty shoe prints by the end of the trip. You will probably be sitting by one of the sweet windows that opens, but you'll also be covered by a sheen of red dust after the bumpy 6 hour journey. Expect to find dust in your bra that evening.

2. Everyone gets off the bus in Poipet, but you are probably going to be the only one not getting on a different bus to cross the border and further trek to Bangkok. Just walk away from their Package Deal and find a moto (motorbike/cycle taxi) on the street. Have the guy take you to the border.

2. Go through Cambodian immigration, and walk 100 hundred meters to Thai immigration. The guy with the forms may ignore you, so be persistent. Fill them out, get questioned and hopefully stamped. Walk another 200 hundred meters- this time past all the tour buses and their minions.Walk around confused in the stifling heat, ask someone where the bus station is. They point west.

3. Start walking and ask someone else. It is 7 kilometers west. Take a moto taxi to the bus station. Don't be mad if the driver ignores the 9kilos on your back and drives 90kph.

4. Arrive at the 'bus station' without any information. Look at your book and choose a city on the road to the Thai/Laos border nearest. Get lucky and find a bus leaving in 10 minutes. Forget about peeing and try to enjoy the fancy 4 hours in comfort.

5. Arrive in Bari Rum around 7:30pm. Get a cheap room with a small television and OMG cable. Watch American Idol by satellite, but you won't find out if Tifani makes it because the connection cuts out. The room is 210 baht for the night- about 5 dollars.

6. Wake up at 6:30am, get ready leisurely and head to the train station to check the schedule for Ubon Rathathani. Find out that the best train leaves in 20 minutes. Run back to the hotel, gather your things, check out and run to make the train. Make sure you sit next to a Thai guy who speaks some kind of pig latin and buys several portions of fried grasshoppers, snapping them in his mouth joyfully.

7. Upon arrival, argue with a moto driver about the cost for a ride to the Warin Market, where you're likely to get a bus. Plan to pee at the market, don't worry about it now.

8. You have seen no other falangs (foreigners) since the border, but you seem to be expected at the market. As you climb from the moto, a severely pregnant woman hanging out of a slowly moving bus yells to you "CHONG MEK? CHONG MEK!" Yeah, you shrug, and she ushers you on. The driver says "Phibun! You go! Change bus Chong Mek. OK!?" No time to pee.

9. The bus is hot and sticky, crowded with smiling Thai, their eyes glued to a television set showing a national comedy sketch show in which squeaky whines and beat-em-ups dominate. Don't mind that, something pulls your eyes to the door. Something looks out of place. What is that? It looks as if one of the cushioned seat backs has split- is that cotton? Oh, no, it is just a PRAYING MANTIS. You can't take your eyes off it. Is that real? Then it starts to move, along a rail and finally along the door frame where it licks and ponders. Take pictures. An hour later at Phibun Mangsahan, you're still staring. Be careful leaving the bus, walking under it. Take a photo close-up. The driver will laugh at you.

10. A sawngthaew (a truck with two rows of benches along the bed and a roof) seems to be waiting for you. Go to Chong Mek.

11. Once at the station in Chong Mek, take a moto taxi to the Thai/Laos border. On the Thai side, you pass several small offices before the correct one for your departure stamp. Make sure to spend a few minutes listening to the angel-voiced blind musician. Give him some money- paper money, please. On the Laotian side, good luck finding the office. You'll pass a bevy and even small market area before the proper station. Find out you unnecessarily got your pricey Visa in Phnom Penh because they now offer visas on arrival at the crossing. Get cheated by an officer who claims there is an "immigration card" fee even though you have one given to you by the Laos consulate in Cambodia. Curse him.

12. Take an unneeded moto Taxi to the the sawngthaew stop for Pakse, across the Mekong.

13. The Sawngthaew driver wants the Kip (local currency) equivalent of a buck for the 1 hour ride. Seems fair, and the only one going the whole way of the 20 squished in. Women with bundles of lives ducks and chickens, baskets of noodles and fruit, file in and out, as the vehicle seems to stop every kilometer.

14. Once in Pakse take a jumbo to a guesthouse. Make sure the guesthouse is full so you have to walk around a while before finding another place.

Welcome to Laos!

New Feature, etc

2006-02-15T03:40:00.000-08:00

Album of some of my favorite photos from this trip- click on the right for the next photo, on the left for the previous, or in the center for a larger version!

I'm in Cambodia. Everything is still India for me- I think about Indian currency and people and food, poverty and homes and transport. My last meal there was a thali, a set meal with several vegetable curries and often a choice of naan (bread, as seen here) or rice and sometimes with yogurt, salad, papad (fried or baked thin round sheets of lentil flour) and pickled vegetables or fruit. I was so happy the next day, but Thailand left me dreary right from the start...

I had managed a bit of fun on an island that feeds both hedonistic locals and tourists, greed spilling from their suffocated lungs and pocketbooks. It is clear to me that Thailand is more, and I will have two more short visits before returning home to find some peace and peaceful people there. Now that I have a guidebook I can more easily sort it all out.

All of a sudden, in the thick humidity of anxious greed I realized that Cambodia was very close- one hour to the border in fact- and visas given on arrival. So I went to the border and after sorting through some immigration issues with extra cash (no comment), I made it.

Cambodia is gorgeous- dry like many other parts of Asia now, but still brilliantly green. I love it. The children are ferociously friendly, with broad curious smiles and calls of "hello!" at every turn. After some time near the border I headed for the capitol, Phnom Penh.

What a strange place it was, modern, with beautifully paved roads and a fantastic national museum, but there was this marketing mechanism pulling you into the Killing Fields and pushing you to buy t-shirts with land mines on them and books about Khmer Rouge atrocities from fatherless children... It took a few days in Cambodia to realize where I was- the class discussions (when I was teaching Anthropology) about poverty and third-worldness and the fiber-optic cable they were laying through the whole of the country- the connection took time, as silly as it sounds even to me. This is the place where the Holocaust came alive again in the 1970s. Children play there, children beg there, bones pokes through the paths of the Fields and bits of tattered clothing litter the landscape.

Something appeared in Thailand and Cambodia that had been absent from my eyes thus far in Asia- the blatant sex industry. In Thailand, the single guys seem to think the girls like them and that they are on dates- the sheer number of 30-50yo men by themselves or with 22yo girls is staggering. They are paid, they are always paid. But when I saw these mixed couples I wanted to believe that he was an ex-pat and she was a friend or a legitimate girlfriend. Unfortunately this is not true- the girls follow the offers and money- something even I was privy to witness. Cambodia's industry is cheaper, less structured, and centers around brothels and chickenfarms, small villages consisting solely of Cambodian and imported (sold) Vietnamese girls- some as young as 12. It is still very possible to buy children, and efforts of the government and sometimes self-serving NGOs has not made a sizable dent.

Apparently, one of the HOTNEWASIAN destinations is the temple complexes Angkor Wat, Northwest of in Siem Reap. So HOT that today I listened to two nurses from Washington state catch-up after a surprise run-in and talk about dirty alleys and street food making them sick. Three days visiting temples and it wasn't enough. Even in February the heat can be stifling and the tour groups are a pain, but there are bags of secrets to discover- the predictable nature of both means shady reliefs facing West and deserted temples if you time it just right.

Not much time left, here or anywhere near here. San Francisco is soon, New York is soon... But before all that, I head North through Thailand and then spend some time in Laos before kicking my way back to Bangkok and flying to Singapore, Tokyo and then San Fran. Miss you.

Bunny!

2006-02-01T02:59:00.000-08:00

I'm sick and achy and everyone here is naked.

Bangkok, like India's beach mecca Goa, is a haven for parties and coconut-colored tans. I hate it, I want India back. The plan is just to be in Singapore for my flight out in early March. I don't have any useful guidebooks left (just Mongolia!), so the route is up for grabs among the sweltering skies, jungles, and stone-carved deities.

I want India back- a place where people fleece you out of necessity, not greed. A place where men and women so enthralled me with their conservative dress that the avalanche of calves and thighs poking out of short denim skirts has thrown me dizzyingly backward. A place where surprises greet you by the moment, where your tears are washed away by an old (albeit 11 year-old) friend running to catch-up and say goodbye. It may be a niche I need to discover, or the gardens, classical dancing and temples of splendor, but I'm too worn out to try. This is the first time in the trip that a feeling of lethargy and apathy has overcome me. I'll sleep some more, and try and find out if I can catch a ferry from the Cambodian coast to Thailand's spur in my journey southward.

I'm working on a site extension (organized like the notebook but with thumbnails) with my favorite photographs- high resolution- from this trip. If there are any images you'd like to see added, comment and let me know.

p.s. Happy February! As a child I believed that natural law required your first word of the month to be 'bunny,' so on this day, I started with a single word. Anyone else?

Moving On

2006-01-30T08:08:00.000-08:00

The goodbye was not too difficult, since for the first time in my Indian journey, the train was on-time and our tears were cut short. It turns out that all my trains since then have been on time. I guess the Southern Rail is just much more efficient... I left for Mumbai/Bombay, not realizing that for most of my time I'd feel as if the India I was getting to know was lost in the folds of this new place.

A place that brought me guilt, a nostalgia for the dirt paths and garbage on the streets I had come to know. It felt like I had momentarily left and taken a secretive flight back home to escape the drudgery and monotony of turning away hustlers every few minutes. But also things I began to love- crowds, street stalls, children playing cricket in the streets.

Mumbai is home to the 'Gateway of India,' an architectural marvel built to commemorate visits by the gracious King and Queen. It was both the gateway for visitors to all parts of India in the heydays of the colony, but also, triumphantly, the exit point for the savvy and lost little British scampering off after India's independence in 1947.

It took me a couple days to realize that the parts of India I missed were there- I'm ashamed to say- outside the tourist quarter of sorts- Colaba. Mumbai is bountiful and rich, with theater and music, markets, a thriving middle class and fantastic food. The most interesting part of my stay was an appearance as an extra in a Bollywood film. I'd read about the casting of Westerners in filler roles, and hoped with a heavy heart to come across this opportunity. One morning I woke up in the Salvation Army Hostel to the desk clerk hovering over me. He asked if I wanted to go to Bollywood that day, if I "wanted to be in a movie". I had ten minutes to get ready. There wasn't enough time to shower and my most expensive item of clothing is a pair of pants that I bought second-hand at home for $5 USD. They tried to outfit me in a tacky blouse and skirt at the studio, I obliged, and slipped back into my nondescript t-shirt. It turned out that this film, out in a month or two, to be called 'Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna' stars a couple top Bollywood actors- Abhishek Bachchan and Prity Zinta and well as a cameo by Abhi's father, the biggest star in India, the sixty-something Amitabh Bachchan. It was fun, but also monotonous- the scene was a dance number in an American dance club. The moves were silly and over the top, but I'm glad I did it. Plus I made ELEVEN BUCKS for 12 hours work. I doubt I'll see any screen time, but I did get this photo with Abhishek, India's Brad Pitt...

My next stop was Goa, a small state on the west coast- a paradise filled with tourists flocking to the sun and fish and sand and sea. It was everything I wanted, a quiet beach and palms overlapping at every turn, fish curries and hot afternoons napping. Maybe not everything. It was too crowded with them, you know the whites. Their flesh dripping out of their suits startled me. I have been so used to the conservative India covering- even while bathing, even while swimming. I went to one of the most remote and quiet beaches, but two days was enough.

Next was the even greener paradise of Kerala, a thriving political state, with battling parties and lively political discussions in the streets. It was even hotter, but I managed a few days.

All I wanted in heading further and further South was to hit Kanyakumari, India's 'land's end,' where the 'three seas meet'- the Bay of Bengal from the east, Indian Ocean from the south and the Arabian Sea from the west. It is a magical place, revered by pilgrims, and known as the place where the Goddess Devi secured freedom from the world entire after conquering nasty demons.

I found a small water/amusement park there called Baywatch. It was a true highlight, and I was the only Westerner there that day. Expecting modesty, I swam in a t-shirt and a skirt. I was not out of place- other women were more covered up in their saris and long blouses and pants.

A lot of territory has been covered, but this has not felt rushed. . From there I headed up the east coast and stopped in Chennai (formerly Madras) and did some things like watch Small Wonder dubbed in Tamil and eat boiled peanuts.

After that I boarded a 32.5 hour train to Kolkata (formerly Calcutta), the pinnacle of poverty and and intellectualism in India. Today, on my last day in India, I am completing this entry, for tomorrow morning I leave with long breaths and sadness to Bangkok, Thailand. My Indian visa expires on February 1. India, in a fit of rage against travelers decided that the date you procure your visa is the date it is effective. This meant that my six months allowance started in August- frustrating to say the least, but I do need a push to head for my exit point, Singapore.

I'm reading City of Joy, you may know the book or the Swayze-starred adaptation. It is fantastic, a sweet and jarring account of so many lives that intercept in the slums here and the stories of why and how people came to live here. It has put faces to the coolies (runners, lackeys, brunts) and the "human horses'', men that run rickshaws with their feet- pulling people and goods, sometimes barefooted, sometimes hungry.

Calcutta continues to fight against the picture westerners have of what is here- garbage, dirt, homelessness, destitution. The city as an entity wants to be clean and pristine, to put those that fit this somewhere outside the folds of what we peer into as tourists. But they are everywhere. The thriving trade economies, the street-dwellers, the rampant slums are here, they are a result of decades of economic and environmental devastation in the surrounding regions. Calcutta is a mecca, a city of promise and hope for so many, as it has been the last century. It is a magical place, as is the rest of India.

I'm almost gone, and my time here is now nearly capsulized, ready for dissection. In truth, I wanted to be shocked here, I wanted to be terrified and horrified. I wanted to be surrounded by lepers and begging children, to be put in my damn western place and see the horrors of which I know absolutely nothing. This never happened. All these things were around me, not enveloping me, but still there, rampant overpopulation, disease and strife, poverty and detritus. My mind was filled with pictures and ideas before I came, even too much in some ways, for nothing surprised me. There was further guilt from wanting to see such things, and I still don't know why I desired the underbelly. I was prepared for the poverty and indecency that awaited me, but, beautifully, I was not prepared for what would accompany it- the bustling smiles of the hardest workers you could see and know, the flipping backstroking activity of children in the streets, the smells of delicious curries and omelets and breads and sweets on the streets. Travel over long distances for extended periods is a challenge, and in a place like India, maybe even more than usual. I love finding a room, choosing a restaurant, figuring out buses and getting lost in markets. It hasn't been hard to be in India alone, because there are fantastic travelers and locals with which to share breakfast or chai on the train or chats on rooftops and by the sea. I miss it already.

Happiest New Year

2006-01-21T05:00:00.000-08:00

Where did I leave off? It was the last day of 2005 and I was set to be on night bus for 2006's entry, and in a small beach town by morning. As usual, my presence was something of a spectacle for those at the station, and the men(always men- because the women are at home) that spoke to me were worried that I'd have trouble finding my bus or procuring a ticket. Sometimes it feels nice to be cared for in this way, but most of the time it is frustrating being treated like a feeble child. I walked away from a group of gentleman and one of them later seemed to be following me. "Don't go to Diu," he said, "come with me." I'm not sure what I first felt- I suppose a mixture of suspicion and a condescending and sarcastic 'oh sure.' But, we began talking, and he was sincere in his curiosity and interest in me- plus he lived with his wife and two children, whom he phoned and let me speak to. It was with some trepidation that I said yes to this strange offer, promising only one night to him, and to myself that I could abandon our bus if I felt unease.

Hitendra lives 1-2 hours east of Ahmendad, a filthy and congested Gujarati hub of activity. We arrived in the smallish (population 50,000) city late in the evening, the last day of the year. His home is a simple concrete structure among 143 others, their "society." His wife, Rama, and son, Bittu, were up when I got there, but daughter Milu was sleeping. It was a friendly atmosphere, but I was reserved. The word of my arrival spread quickly and soon there were friends and neighbors peeking through the window and knocking on the door- as many as 30 or 40 the first night.

Having finished a wonderful homemade dinner, sitting with this lovely family, it was the perfect way to look and and see the new year had begun.

I stayed there for several days, each day they took wonderful care of me- setting out a place to sleep and cooking for me, taking me around town and even out for special visits. Hitendra is a primary school teacher and asked me to give a lecture to the faculty on my areas of interest (with 2 hours prep time!), anthropology and HIV/AIDS. It was wonderful to give a lecture after all this time and it surprised me how much I enjoyed it.

You know, this is why I don't want to be a writer, this is why I couldn't be a writer- I can't (or maybe I'm just too lazy to) find the words to describe what I experienced there. One of the best things was just being able to spend time with Indian women. It just seems as if 90% of Indians are men because they are represented well on the streets and in public. The women of the society were kind and generous, affable and forthright. The children hugged me and gave me small gifts, played games with me and asked me to dance and sing for them. Maybe some more photos can express what it was like there...

Hindustan

2005-12-30T03:23:00.000-08:00

I feel as if there are worlds between these posts, galaxies of time. Delhi seems so far away, let alone the magic of Mongolian plains or Nepali children.

These past weeks (but weeks?, they are only small moments, just such bundles that convention allows me to say day, week or month) have been an exercise in humility and sometimes futility. My initial plan was just to see the Golden Temple in Amritsar.

The temple itself is a beacon of shining light in fog, at dusk, in the sunlight, at dawn. The grounds, the water, everything you can see or touch or wash your feet in, is pure and stark, but also rich, translucent, biblical in its devotion. There are also practical reasons to love the temple- free shuttle service to and from the train station, free (albeit simple) lodging and food. I should say that the Sikhs themselves are also full of this goodness, as their religion imparts on them strict rules for generosity and treatment to others. I haven't seen this in any other group as consistently.

I only stayed there one night, because as soon as I heard that the Dalai Lama was having a week-long teaching that had started two days previous, I hopped on the first bus to Dharmasala in the morning. It was an 8 hour journey, rickety and smelly, the dust of broken peanut shells in the air, mingling with fried stall food at frequent rest breaks. I'm not much for 'it was meant to be' and that type of thing, but my time in Dharmasala and its sister-town MacLeod Ganj was magical. I hopped off the bus, tired, grabbed the first hotel room from the first hotel I could find, plopped down my bag and within 15 minutes of getting off the bus I was on the street. Two local gentleman passed me as I exited the hotel... "Hi", "Hi", I said back. "How are you?", "Great!" "Want to have a beer?" "Sure."

I said yes. The two guys are young shopkeepers who peddle Kashmiri goods, Delhi silver, and themselves to rarely suspecting western women. The friendship was quick, as these types must be, and I spent time everyday with them, their friends and other westerners who flocked. I cooked, they cooked, we danced. It was like Spring Break, though I never had a proper one of those with the bikinis and booze, so this mountain hideaway is my idea of how of those things should feel.

Can't forget to mention (yikes) the reason I headed there- to hear and see the Dalai Lama. I was only successful audially, but I admit to not trying too hard because of the throngs of Tibetans and fake-Buddhist westerners. It isn't really as magical as it seems when you have to listen to a substandard English translation via headphones from an FM signal anyway. I'm still happy I went up there, though. The mountain sunsets are spectacular and I visited the Tibetan Children's Village headquarters. It was beautiful and I almost pledged my adult life to them. The next day, however, I heard scandalous tales of corruption about the very-high up guy I met with.

This is also the place where I received the first serious marriage proposal of my life. There are remnants of suspicion about his desire for a visa or money (though there was no suggestion of either), but I really cherish the feeling it gave me. The guy was a friend/co-worker of the two that invited me out the first night, and I honestly can't remember a time when someone was so fervently and desperately in need of me. Well, there was David in 8th grade, but he only showed me his devotion by pinching my butt. The relationship with the gentleman here was only platonic, and it flattered me all the more because of this.

It was so much fun there, and i even extended my stay, but soon it was time to leave. I took a couple buses and a couple trains, making a 36 hour journey to Jaipur, the capital of the Indian state Rajasthan. On the way I also visited the Golden Temple again- lucky me!

Jaipur, the 'pink city' (really, it is terracotta, orange and dusty if you're feeling bitter), is a mess, but with striking forts and museums, all disintegrating as a result of misuse and general dilapidation. I wanted to come, but i also made it impossible to skip, as it is where I asked my Seattle liaison to mail my package of Love.

Before heading out of the city, I took a sidetrip to the famous temple in Balaji. There were absolutely no tourists there, even though people are exorcised regularly (who doesn't want to see that?). Apparently, I was pretty interesting to the people there. But the star of the show was the dancing and music that magically filled the streets... Also, a cow kicked me that day, on Christmas eve, but I later heard it was a good luck omen...

So, the package... It did not arrive, even though it was overdue. I stayed in Jaipur too long, and decided to sort everything out later on... On Christmas Eve I took a 13 hour bus to Jaisalmer, a dusty desert town in Western Rajasthan, and one of the places tourists hate to miss. The touts and shopkeepers also hate to miss the tourists, so despite the small size of the place (50k), I had more annoyances and hassles than most places.

My hotel was just about ONE DOLLAR a night, which was a way to rope me in with the hope that I would go on a camel safari through the hotel. I almost did, but the package loomed over my ailing heart, and I ended up calling the post office in Jaipur everyday! One of the hotel guys (who followed me around the city like a lost puppy on his motorbike, jealous and nearly enraged when I spoke with anyone of the male sex) offered to help me get the package, so I made a couple dozen phone calls and sent few faxes- to no avail. It was so frustrating that I decided to go back to Jaipur myself and get the thing when the Good News came through. It was a 14 hour bus ride (out of the way), but when I held it in my hands I thanked some kind of spirit and my eyes watered. There is nothing like the movement of sweet fingers and delicate ink across the page in your hands. The envelope was full, mail from 23 people in 4 countries. I have read every word several times. Pen pals are nothing new to me, but these connections at this time, in this way, are simply intangible. My father, for example, is a prolific writer of letters, lengthy and witty, cute and lecturing, and though his emails ands phone calls serve some of the same purposes, seeing his handwriting did something to my solar plexus. I later realized that the package had been tampered with... Someone sent some money and someone else a comic book- both were not there. I am not sure what, if anything, else is missing. I will be able to write back everyone who wrote to me...

All I can say is thank you. I know at least a few of you had mail returned, and I am sorry for that. I still appreciate the generosity and thought very much.

I've got two more nights of long bus rides ahead of me. No big city for the start of the New Year... 16 hours into Gujarat state tonight and then I hope to get on a bus New Years Eve for the island town/island of Diu. I hear there is nothing to do there, and great seafood.

A couple days later I'll take a 24 hour bus to Bombay and maybe see some world-class museums and Bollywood in action.

EDIT: I never made that 3rd consecutive night bus. Since I started this post I was invited home by an Indian man and his family. The saga continues when I am able to find a USB connection! And look, I know it must be sickening how in love I am with all of this. Be warned, it gets worse: a woman and I discuss arranged marriages and I hold her as she cries, a village man proclaims me his daughter, a child bestows upon me the respect of a revered holy person and later cries when I leave. This is sick. This is beautiful. India is beautiful and full of love, and I'm happy.

POSTSCRIPT: I also went to McDonalds today (6 Jan 06)(McVeggie combo).

Happenings

2005-12-23T07:27:00.000-08:00

If I can get settled, I'll post something worthwhile, including more photos! For now, though, here is a little list of little things.

* In a train station I waited (and waited- "India is great... Always late!" they say). I was facing inward, closed, cold, listening to music. An old man walked by, begging. Instinctively, I shook my head. Before he could step away I thought of my father- one of the most loving and generous people I know. I stopped the man with my hand and pulled out a 10 rupee bill- not much, 23 cents, but he thanked the sky. Turning this time and walking away I saw him rubbing his cold skinny hands. I stopped him again and gave him my fruit and my gloves. Thanks, Dad.

* A man I met in Dharmasala/MacLeod Ganj proposed to me. I think he was serious, and if so- it was a first for me. Our relationship was only platonic.

* On a train yesterday I struck a 22 hour friendship with a kind-hearted Sikh, a drunken and giggling military man and a suave young guy with 90s Western dance-pop on his mobile. Yes, I have pictures. This is why I prefer to travel overland.

I'm still waiting on the parcel of cards- here's hoping the 24th is a good day at the post office. Sunday, the 25th, they're closed. As they say, don't worry, chicken curry!

Through to Delhi

2005-12-12T02:27:00.000-08:00

While in Nepal I head rumblings of boy in the woods who was suspected to be a reincarnation of The Buddha. It is said he has been meditating for 6 or more months without food or water. I don't believe it, but I had to see him for myself...

So, this new Buddha and scenery were the reasons for going overland into India. It was quite difficult, though the actual distance between Kathmandu and Varanasi is minuscule in Western senses, it took me several days. Most of Nepal is rural and breathtaking. When I arrived in the medium-sized town of Nijgad and stopped in the street to get my bearings I immediately got a fan club- there must have been 80-90 people surrounding me...

As soon as I could I visited the jungle where He was. Some kind local kids showed me around after the bumpy bus ride into the brush. I am not sure what I was expecting, but there was a pretty impressive set-up out there- food, souvenirs, even a couple rickshaws. It wasn't anything like aggressively huge piles of Plutos at Disneyland, but it was sure something for Nepal. I did not see any other whities there, but was told they regularly stopped by. I was allowed to get about 15 or 20 meters closer than the locals. Admittedly, I was willing to slip someone some money, but it seems my skin color was enough. This photo of him is terrible, but it is the best I took. If you're interested, a google search would be best.

The bus to the border was a fantastic ride. Again I was the only Westerner for hours, even days... I especially like the rest stops where I'm able to observe and participate in local exchanges- meals, conversation, tea... The scenery wasn't as amazing as coming into Nepal over the mountains, but it was similarly dense and lush. Getting from the border town of Birganz's city center over into India was extremely easy- as soon as I got off the bus a cycle rickshaw driver offered me a ride for 50 cents USD. This included carrying my pack to the rickshaw and waiting at both immigration offices (I ended up giving him more, as the entire journey took quite a while). It would have been easy to walk over the bridge from Birganz right into Raxaul, India- you can see the ease at this border crossing!

I had several hours to kill while I waited for my midnight train to the holy city of Varanasi. When I first got here I was really excited. I felt prepared for the intensity of the scenes and crowds from all the things I had heard and read about India. Raxual is nothing special- lots of cows and even more dust. The highlight was buying simple shoes for a tea-running small boy just outside the train station. He was one of the dozens staring at me in the late night, stall lights yellow, jingling rickshaw bells, constant chatter... I generally don't give money to children, but often small toys and in this case something bigger. He was pleased and I don't care that I probably paid too much.

The train was expected to arrive in Varanasi at 11:30am. Due to political unrest, we were nearly TEN hours late. Nevertheless, the journey was exciting (seems I have fan clubs all over India- see photos below) and had what is probably the holiest city in the subcontinent at the end- the main home of the sacred Ganges- Varanasi.

The main thing to see is the river - a thing of beauty, as you can see, but also a thing of filth- I saw bodies being burned on the banks (being cremated there means one can escape the cycle of rebirth and ascend accordingly) and also being dumped from a boat. People wash clothes and themselves on the banks as well- in water where septic systems pour into...

My next stop was Lucknow, a decent place, but full of hardship for me. It is still a little difficult to think about those few days. I had problems with trains, begging children, dying dogs, a pervert (a guy grabbed my backside- not the first time this happened in India, but the first time I screamed and hit someone!), hotels and rickshaw drivers. Even so, I saw some wonderful sites and had good food: (note: 'Aryan restaurant' !!??)

Everything turned around in Agra. Upon arrival I met a wonderful Australian couple that I spent a couple of days with there and also traveled to Delhi with. The Taj Mahal was nice, but I liked Akbar's Mausoleum heaps more. The setting was beautiful- there were deer and monkeys everywhere!

Delhi is fantastic when you're in the right frame of mind. I have fun with touts, make eye contact with beggars, and sweetly demand fair prices. There are wonderful sites and museums and millions of people to enjoy and watch. I'm headed to The world Sikh capital, Amritsar, tomorrow. Thank you for the kind words, mail that came in and well wishes.

Monkeys

2005-12-07T22:49:00.000-08:00

More soon. Words too!

Kids

2005-12-04T05:33:00.000-08:00

I hated to leave Kathmandu and the goodbyes were terribly difficult. The night before I left I saw the children and there were many tears. One of the girls started to well up before me, and I wiped her eyes simultaneously with my thumbs. Later, as I cried, she touched my face and did the same- it was such a sweet gesture for a child- really moving. I gave the ones I am closest to letters in which the things that make them special to me were described in detail.

This leads me to some comments and questions from Sean in my last update, he said:

What is the process for hangin' out with kids, being invited to stay with people, etc? While I can believe that lots of the people you meet are really nice, how does it get to that point? Do they speak English? Are they inviting to put you up when you get off a bus, but do expect money? Are they getting something back from you? Is it related to the part of the world you're in? Are you more friendly and less guarded than me? Does your Anthro degree lend you secret Batman-style tricks that my Cultural Studies degree can only dream of?

I've always been extremely maternal and have extensive experience with children: babysitting as a kid/teen, youth camps, volunteer work at a home for children who have mothers in jail, teaching theater and art to elementary children- for pay and as a volunteer... So, that is the start of it. These children are nice, and there are nice people all over, and in every country I have been- but there is something lovely and open about the Nepalese. I have had not had the same or closely similar experiences anywhere else; including the newest addition India, I've logged 36 countries.

Maybe there was something serendipitous about the day I met them. In the morning I purchased pencils to give to kids as friendly gifts and in lieu of begging money- nearly 80 pencils with cute pink fluffy characters, red and black action figures, and rainbows... I was wandering in the city and passed a small courtyard with a dilapidated Hindu shrine. I passed it, but thought eh, I'm here, I'll stroll around... Behind it were some children playing. Pradip was leaning on a motorcycle, a dejected look on his face. I reached into my bag and asked "would you like a pencil?" He said "yes" and when other children noticed they asked for one too. I happily obliged and hellos turned into lengthy conversations about Nepali customs, my country, their schools, and other topics. A large percentage of city-dwellers in Nepal speak at least come English, and most of these children come from families that can afford 'boarding school' (private school) where English is taught. Communication was not difficult.

Children have many schemes to get money. They ask for photos and demand compensation, say they collect foreign coins or are trying to organize a football (soccer) league, etc. But these kids did not want or need anything more than my time. I think the letters I wrote were worth far more than a trinket or rupee anyhow. I did also give them small gifts, and they gave me notes and gifts as well: flowers, candles, postcards, a small wooden carving, dances and a play, a keychain, a pen... Perhaps I will sound wistful, but I feel strongly that the most compelling thing I gave was adept attention, care and love. I asked them questions and listened to the answers. I complimented their good behavior and was authoritative when they needed to be reprimanded- but positively, and never in front of their peers.

A few of the children live in homes adjacent to the courtyard and their parents noticed me right away (hard not to, a foreigner with 10-20 kids attacking her), and others heard about me as the days went on. The invitations for lunch, dinner, snacks, tea, came every visit. I promised them when I would come and I came through; I surprised them with copies of photos I took and treated them respectfully- and required respect. This carried through to their families and, of course, their cultures- not just their personalities, and I can credit my anthropological training here.

At home, I have been called intimidating (I have a good look when frightened!), standoffish and cold. It is true to some degree, I guess, but only with those I don't know- that is my way of guarding myself. With children, though, there aren't the same risks, and I am easily opened- they see it.

Next time, I'll tell you about the reincarnated Buddha, monkey attacks, beggars, the Ganges, dying dogs, train station hassles and more than you want to know about India.

Less than a week left, so pleaseplease send me Holiday Love (see previous post!)

Help!

2005-11-20T18:36:00.000-08:00

It is true I have been spending time with locals and even a few Westerners here and there, though most of my time is spent alone and I have been away three months (returning in March). So: a special request. See, I'm worried that Christmas will be especially lonely. A friend in Seattle has offered the temporary use of a post office box in which I can receive mail.

Maya Micronomicon
P.O. Box 45654
Seattle, WA 98145-0654

I'm hoping to have a little taste of home and friendship for my Indian Christmas. You can send a note by December 10, and all will be express mailed to me post restante. I'll paypal my friend for expenses. The heavier the package, the more expensive, so simple postcards and light letters are best. Please include a return and email addresses and I will do my best to reciprocate. Thank you. xo!

Puppy Love

2005-11-19T22:10:00.000-08:00

It is sort of embarrassing to look back and think about how dreamy and wispy I felt when I first met Mongolia. I looked into its skies and gazed at its smiles and mountains and endless plains with such fervor, such hope. But now that I've met Nepal I realize it was all puppy love. I know what real love is now.

The bus to Kathmandu took THREE days. To hear me describe the journey you'd think I was some kind of martyr, trudging the earth with a giant cross or sack of hay strapped to my back. The truth is something else, though. It was incredible, and I can't think of words to describe it, or even trust that a good thesaurus would be enough, would do this glorious place justice. First of all, I woke up super early in Lhasa to get to the station, and I ended up waiting for what seemed like hours. No matter, Tibetans are kind and giving, curious, smiling... I spoke with one gentleman who works with a non-profit and teaches locally. He was sending off some people so the chat ended, unfortunately, at the bus station. The bus was packed with about 40 Tibetans, all hopeful and excited with very new passports and very new visas for Nepal. Over the course of the trip we shared laughs, hot tea, dirt paths as toilets, fruit, and dirty hotels. I really had no idea when the bus would arrive, so I was already surprised when we stopped at a hotel after a relatively easy 8 or 9 hours of driving. Most of Tibet looks like this first photo, and I met this sheepy thing at the border town. It was posing for me, don’t you think?

This is a photo of two of my bus-mates who were heading into exile in India after Nepal. It was really amazing to see firsthand the treatment of Tibetans by the Chinese. I’ve seen plenty of ‘Free Tibet’ stickers and maybe even signed a petition or two… Anyway, the second photo below shows the line (on the ‘Friendship Bridge’) separating China to the right and Nepal to the left.

The second day we continued to ascend high mountain passes and then, sort of suddenly, everything changed: there was grass, there was green, there were livable areas and people again, then we were descending, approaching the long, deep gorge toward the border and into the Kathmandu Valley.

I was awestruck by Nepali people I chance encountered as I waved my silly arms and head out the window. Boys screamed and waved, skipping in dirty half-sandals, shopkeepers smiled and girls washed clothing under pipes coming out of cement structures. I was in love, and my cheeks were pained from smiling so much. Not that fake Mongolia-love you always hear about. I mean, I am not trying to diss Mongolia. It was so good to me; I'll never forget the gifts and love, mountains and museums, and bad hip-hop. But I feel something new, something that makes my stomach jittery and my heart tender. I'm really happy here, and I don't even have a guidebook.

I arrived late in the afternoon almost exactly two weeks ago. While using my ATM card across the street from the bus park I ran into a friendly US ex-pat who gave me some advice about what part of town to stay in. It is where most of the tourists go, but a thriving, bustling local scene is around every corner. Right away the smells of spice and joss enchanted me, and I didn’t much mind the trash in the street and the narrow streets crowded with taxis and motorbikes, farmers and hustlers peddling their wares. There also signs of oppression, like the guards and checkpoints all over the roads.

I knew, though, that I needed to see some more of the country, so I headed west to the scenic and popular town of Pokara. Hated it. Absolutely hated it. It was paradise, sure, but I've seen paradise. I longed to be back in the dusty streets of Kathmandu eating cheap Nepali food and watching tea runners and women in sarees walk down the street. There is one part of Pokara where all the tourists go, Lakeside. I felt like I was in an open-air mall, and there is no shortage of malls in my home country. There were only local children prowling the streets begging or hassling tourists, and there were only other locals in their shops beckoning you in with incessant cat calls. I ended up staying a week, but only because I took a motorbike tour of all the surrounding sites (after silently cursing the entire Asia entire) to try and salvage my time after a few days…

And then… I met a family I’d been growing friendly with invited me to their village for a special Puja, a blessing by a priest for the villagers. It took an hour on a rickety bus and then an hour and a half climbing a small mountain to get there. There are a total of fourteen houses in the village but they are so spread out that I only walked by two of the homes and stayed in the third with my host's family.

How do I describe that day, that night? Am I supposed to thrown out 'it was great,' 'fabulous, 'lots of fun'? No, I can't. I (and all our thesauruses) are lacking yet again. Ask me about it sometime. You might think I look like I'm about to cry, the way I look when I talk about Omega House, the AIDS hospice where I did volunteer work and research in Texas. "How sad," people always say, which I never understood. What they mean is 'Wow, I'm really afraid to die and if I ever saw death in front of me I wouldn't know what to do!' And this is terribly unfortunate because it is a wonderful place full of love and light and people you've never imagined. Nepal makes me feel something along those lines, but I wonder about the intrinsic reason for this crazy love. Is this unparalleled love condescending, is it insulting, as I come from the most powerful and wealthy (albeit fairly unhappy and disliked) country?

In my field of study, anthropology, there is a term, or a theory called the noble savage. It is typical for us, even for middle class populations in the ‘third world,’ to see farmers and peasants as beautiful, so see them as being close to the land. In the United States we’re fond of speaking heart-lustily about Native Americans, we like to tell people how neat their lives out. We put ‘dream catchers’ on our walls and talk about how they use EVERY PART of a buffalo- wow, no waste! We think about people in Africa and Asia, their sweet simple lives, and then we catch a taxi to a bar with a $20 cover charge or dust the top of out DVD player. So that is the noble part. This is the savage part: none of us would trade or grand lives for their puny ones would we? I’m so in love with this place, right? Well, should that mean I would trade my life for one of theirs? If it is so beautiful and fantastical, is it not worth the same as mine? I wouldn’t trade, I admit it. And I’m sure all those grade school teachers who said those things about Native Americans wouldn’t trade their lives either. And I don’t think this is a matter of being used to what we know, being familiar and comfortable. I think it is a severe value judgment, and my love for this place and the people here is rooted in my Western idea of beauty in being close to nature with a ‘simple’ life.

Well, I still love it here. There is so much green, sometimes I get to share a meal with a new friend, and almost every day in Kathmandu (before Pokara and now that I am back), I visit these kids…

I have had tea in one of their father’s shops, I have been invited into three of their homes and even tonight I return for dinner and a visit. I’m not sure when I will leave and head south to India. Sometime within 3-8 days I’m guessing. Meanwhile, I’ll continue to feel not only this boundless love, but also the hope that time proves it pure and real.

Bye-Bye China

2005-11-01T02:58:00.000-08:00

I've given up waiting to properly update with pictures and everything, so I have scraped this together. Besides, China will be a country of my past in a few days. I'm currently enjoying Tibet but I am sick of being sick and my mantra isn't om mani padme hum, but stupid China. Enlightenment, no. Karma, yes.

The highlights of my second sets of days in Beijing were the Lama Temple and the Taoist temple- they really pound the afterlife punishments into you. I suppose if your religion enjoys icons you may as well go all out! My favorite dioramas reminded me that those spooky stories of faraway places we hear as children do serve us well as adults (hell, for one). Oh yeah, the last picture is at least someone's version of hell, Chinese acrobatics.

Being back in China was delightful at first, food is easy and predictable and transportation is generally easy- long and short distances alike. After wasting some time in Beijing, I headed close-by for some rarely-visited but pretty spectacular sites. In one day I hit Yungang Caves, the hanging monastery and the 11th century wooden pagoda Mu Ta. The caves are awe-inspiring, carved into the mountain are over 50,000 Buddhist statues. It is hard to impress the size and scope of the carvings. They are so amazing that I found myself trying to convince strangers that they must be made of cement and couldn't be actual carvings. I do think many of the statuettes were made with molds, but the majority of what is there is truly world-class.

The hanging monastery, where to begin... I've never even thought of describing myself as having a fear of heights, but this place dates over 1400 years ago and really isn't hanging off a cliff, it was built straight out of the cliff's face above a canyon. Several small buildings are connected via corridors, steep stairways, bridges and boardwalks. It was frightening, and I felt for the first time what a severe physical reaction to a phobia must feel like.

The pagoda was nice, plucked it seemed from the past and precariously placed in the middle of one of China's bustling nameless cities. An appropriate swelling of souvenir shops selling the same crap surrounded the structure, but once inside the grounds and up the stairs I found some peace. It was worth a stop, as recent Western monies have brought some regeneration to the tipping pagoda.

My next major stop was Wu Tai Shan, one of China's scared mountain ranges. I slept and read a couple days away and then did a mountain tour of temples, nunneries and monasteries. Even after a short visit at one temple, a nun invited me to spend the night on the premises. There was no way I could say no- until I tried to find my way back there at the end of the day. My only true regret in China.

One of the "Top Sites" in China is supposed to be the Terracota Army in Xi'an, so there was no way I could miss that! Oh God, I wish I had. Other than some tremendous Chinese-Muslim food and a quaint Muslim Quarter in which to indulge, Xi'an is a tourist trap engulfed in a giant cartoon character with tiny traps as necklaces and eyes. If I was big on regretting things, I'd punish myself for taking the time to see the army and Xi'an at all. Question anyone who claims the city was worth it. A few moments at the site were nice, but nothing of the spirit of the find exists in my eyes. You'd be better off watching a public television documentary about the Qin Dynasty.

I set myself up to revel in the sweetness of my next major stop, Chengdu. I loved the park and the main temple. It is a great city even though there are millions and millions of people there. At some point all my pictures will be up and I will be back home. By request I do a wonderful imitation of all elderly chinese women dancing in the parks and temples of Chengdu. Something happened to my body in that city and I fainted in a cafe. I was okay, save for my bumped (stone floor) head, and quickly recovered. The next day was I went to the Giant Panda Breeding Research Base:

I paid for the privilege, but it was worth it. I sniffed and hugged and was denied a change to hand that HUGE thing some food. Qing Zai is just two years old, and clearly hundreds of pounds. The encounter with the red panda wasn't as spectacular, but they are pretty cute.

So, now I am in Tibet, and I take a bus to Kathmandu, Nepal in a couple days. I've been sick here- two visits to the hospital- but have little choice about leaving. I'm already paying a high tariff to be here a few extra days since my visa has run out. Socialized medicine is nice for the pocketbook (two visits, all meds, less than $12 bucks), but more than one of my SEVEN prescriptions was some weird herbal thing with antlers in it. Better than you'd think.

See you soon!

Noodles

2005-10-14T04:55:00.000-07:00

There is something I noted not too long ago when speaking with a friend; I said that when you travel like this, everything you accomplish (and, trust me, they are such little things) seems like some monumental task overcome by sheer will and perfect honing abilities. For example, today I left my little mountain town sadly, but proud that a bus happened to pop by that was headed my way as I traipsed down the lane. "I DID IT!", I said to myself, as if my own hands had worked in the coal mines of the province, as to fuel the factory spitting steel into perfect rectangles or as if I assembled the dear hunk itself. Five hours, countless stops, three kung-fu movies, and four MP3 episodes of This American Life later, I arrived in a city no one I know has ever heard of, but there are 2.5 million people here. China has over 100 cities with populations over 1 million. 100! The United States has 9. Nine. So I'm here: 'Taiyuan' they yell through smoke, and I file to get out. There I am, here I am, buses, cars, bicycles, not a Westerner around for the past 72 hours, it is 7pm, and I have to figure out where to lay my head, wash my hands, and fill my stomach. Sometimes I am so proud, the little things such as these take so much effort and I feel joyous and accomplished. But, really, sheets and running water and noodles? Well, I haven't found the noodles yet, but I bet I find the best and cheapest in the city.

Return To [Beijing] Doors

2005-10-12T01:23:00.000-07:00

Mongolia made such an impression on me that it was hard to finally buy my ticket out. So hard in fact that it seemed more pleasing (and much cheaper) to return to Beijing by first just barely crossing the border on a local night train. This allowed me to go half-way and say goodbye slowly. In Erilan I arrived just before lunch and had a nice stroll and meal and then boarded a night bus to the city.

I did not want to put my bag in the cargo compartment so I slept with it on my tiny bunk. The bus was nearly full (about 36 passengers and 39 beds!). We moved slowly and stopped several times, but still passed through Beijing 2 hours early- before 5am! I expected the bus's destination to be Beijing and that we would stop at station I could find on my map. That was not the case. The driver simply stopped on an expressway East of the city center. Three of us disembarked and the bus set off.

In my next post I will share my journey since: 50,000 Buddhas, Department of The Hell, temples, a 1,000 year-old pagoda and more. Until then, here are some lovely doors.

Building a Ger

2005-10-01T00:40:00.000-07:00

The traditional home of Mongolians is the ger, a round dwelling or tent constructed mainly of wood and felt. The name comes from the Turkish word yurt. Gers may go back as far as 800 years and city dwellers also use them; however, Western homes and apartments are somewhat common in cities.

In the North Gobi I was able to watch and help an extended family reconstruct their ger. Many Mongolians are pastoralists. They rely on herd animals for food products, fur and pelts. In order to feed their animals properly and care for themselves as well, it is necessary for families and small groups to move seasonally- 2-4 times a year. It was not clear if this family had recently moved or if they were just repairing and then reconstructing their ger. The average ger weighs about 500 pounds and can be easily transported by animals. These days, even some of the remotest of gers are often moved by trailer and truck for a fee.

Putting a ger together only takes 60-90 minutes, and is nearly impossible to do alone. When we arrived, the site looked a mess, as if the thing had exploded into a million parts. Both the family matriarch and her daughter were repairing broken seams and small holes in the ger's outer shell.

It was a beautiful scene. The women worked in the dwindling sun sewing, the third generation played with sticks and rocks (and, later, with me), and the grandfather arranged the pieces for construction later on as baby camels returned home to their mothers.

The woman on the left here was the grandmother of the little girl, and I am not sure of the relationship they had with the woman on the right. The girl's mother was also involved with the repair work and construction.

As they cleaned and prepared I started to become friends with this little girl. As mentioned in my previous post, she started to call me sister, and I called her little sister in response.

These are their belongings, in a circle, on the floor of what will be the home. A flat surface with appropriate soil are goo prerequisites for an appropriate location. Floors of gers may have wood planks or a combination of plastic sheets (near the beds and chest) and dirt/grass floor (near the entrance).

Gers have a latticework frame of birch wood that is tied together with tiny leather ropes. The size of a ger is based on how many of these khana are used, usually fours to five, but sometimes as many as ten! Stretched out, each one is about 7.7 feet long and 5-6 feet high. Bound together with rope, they form a circular structure.

After the khana is stretched and in place, the door frame is attached and roped securely.

In this next photo, the unis (poles) are positioned around the ger so they will be ready when needed.

One person is needed to put together, hoist and hold the baganas (pillars) and toono (crown), while others insert and secure each uni. The There are between 72 and 212 poles (this ger used 72). All of the have one squared side which alloes them to fit in a notch in the center of the ceiling pillar and the other end has a small hole with a rope that secures it to the latticework. The pieces that fit over the door frame have no holes/rope at the and are instead wedged behind the top of the frame. The toono is important because it allows for ventilation and sunlight.

This is a view of the completed skeleton of the ger.

At this point, a layer of felt (sometimes two or three) is added to the roof and a series of ropes and sticks are used to both position and secure the felt.

Felt is then added to the sides. Someone has to hold up the thick and heavy sheets as another encircles the ger with strong ropes. One thick rope secures the felt from just above the walls.

Once the walls are secured, another layer is added to further protect from the elements, along with an outer set of ropes. A small triangle of felt is positioned on the top of the toono and it is attached to ropes that allow someone to cover and uncover it easily.

The last step is adding the door.

Gers face South or Southeast, as the dwellings represent microcosms of the Mongolian universe. The arch of the interior represents the vault of the heavens. The North side, hoimor is located behind the fire. The layout inside a ger is standard. When you walk in, immediately on the right, or East side, you will see cooking utensils and food cabinets or shelves. Immediately to the West, or left you will see herding and riding gear. Ahead, to the North, storage cabinets painted in beautiful bright orange with complimentary hues of blue, red, white, yellow details. In the middle of the left an right walls there are beds. Sometimes there may just be stacks of neatly arranged pillows and wrapped blankets.

24 Days

2005-09-27T23:50:00.000-07:00

So, here's the long version...

On September 2 I made some plans to go on a short canoe trip with a few other travelers. Less than two hours later I ran into the Mancunian from the Beijing-to-UB train and I ended up joining up with him and two Dutch folk for a quickly arranged 24 day jaunt into the Northern, Middle-West and Gobi (Southern) parts of the country. Tour companies, guesthouses and independent drivers all make arrangements for these kinds of trips, which typically last 6-10 days. However, the trip we took takes in most of the major sites enjoyed by tourists (meaning they are withing a few days of Mongolia's capital, Ulaan Baatar, if you travel a direct route.

The day before the trip we stocked up on food and supplies, as we planned to camp most nights. We shopped at an inexpensive market which was housed in an old gutted building and consisted of a couple dozen rows of stalls selling many of the same items. In some areas you could find fruits and vegetables, in others meats, dry goods, beverages, cleaning and cooking items, etc. It was a little bit frustrating having to point to what we wanted and pay for dozens of items sparately. Before the shopping trip we started our trip fund, or the "kitty" and I acted as treasurer (you would expect that, right?).

Our first stop was Amarbayasgalant Khiid (monastary)in the Selenge Aimag (province), and considered to be one of the top three Buddhist institutions in the country (the other two are Gandan Khiid in Ulaan Baatar and the Erdene Zuu monastary in Kharkhorin).

The road started out beautifully- perhaps 200 kilometers of paved glory. But that was more pavement than we would see for the entire 23 days to come... The last few dozen kilometers to the site were rocky, dirty and bumpy. I had been expecting such roads, but was still surprised upon being first treated to them. You can't read, you can't certainly write, and don't try to eat or drink on those roads. I'll be honest, some dirt roads were pretty fantastic, but you are always in for a few dramatic bumps in the road, and of course the metaphorical bumps, but the juicy stuff will be relegated to AIM conversations and email for now.

The monastary was built over a 10 year period in the second quarter of the 18th century, but communists destroyed much of it two hundred years later. Restoration began 30 years ago and it looks pretty great now, despite the headless bodhisattvas behind the stupa out front. The most awesome part is the sheer will of the builders and worshippers- the thing appears by a hillside out of nowhere it seems. Well, so does pretty much everything in Mongolia!

We passed through the Bulgan Aimag and stopped in the small and very Russian city (population 75,000) of Erdenet for lunch on Day the second day and our next main stop was the Selenge Gol (river) (also, predictably, in Selenge), a small but awesome river that starts in Western Mongolia and drifts north, flowing into Siberia's amazing Lake Baikal. So maybe some of my DNA will end up there. Wait, nevermind.

We moved North in the direction of Lake Khovsgol (silent k), and stopped in a tiny town for some Mongolian food. The food is fairly bland, and like the guidebook says, "Almost any Mongolian dish can be created with meat, rice, flour, and potatoes." Mongolian "Nomads" (we'll get to that later, because they aren't nomadic, they are transhumant) subsist almost solely on dairy products some parts of the year. They also eats tons of mutton (sheep). You'd think one or two sources would have consulted an anthropologist before throwing around the term so willy-nilly. I'd like to offer my services as an anthropologist to any and all misusing the term. I'd be happy to explain it.

Since I brought it up... Nomads are associated with band type societies that have uncentralized political systems and shamanistic religions. Being nomadic means that they are constantly moving and that all their material possessions can be carried on their bodies. Some nomads use pack animals, but this is rare, as caring for or having and using animal flesh is a costly business- costly time-wise, costly in the way that most affects these hunter-gatherers. Nomads do not alter their environments, and they move about in order to replenish their food resources automatically.

Mongolians are pastoralists. Their livelihood revolves around herd animals. They do not hunt and they do very little gathering. In fact, gathering of fruits, nuts, and vegetables is very unusual for "suburban" Mongolians, as their resources for these items would deplete far before they moved on. This is the essence of transhumance- seasonal movement, which is exactly what herders do. They move, generally within familiar and fixed areas, in order to keep their herds fed. Pastoralism is labor-intensive (like its cousin agriculture), and though Mongolian groups appear small they have extensive networks set up in their communities.

Nearly to Lake Khovsgol, we stopped in a small city called Moron for a surprising lunch of Yak Schnitzel (not a Mongolian specialty).

Moo-run is very like other Aimag capitals, run-down, dusty, crawling with ruthless drivers who hated sharing their roads, and definitely a place to get out of quickly.

After camping the first 3 nights we stayed two nights at a guesthouse in the town at the South end of the lake, Khatgal.

It is a small town that revolves around its tourist industry. Moments after our arrival we witnessed the first mobile shops common to tourist areas. Shop is used loosely: 4 women were delivered by motorbikes to the dirt parking area of the guesthouse and set up shop by laying out various wool, camel and goat hair goods, keychains and the like. I bought a small game made from animal bones for a bit more than 2000 togrog (tugrug), about $1.75 USD. The highlight of the guesthouse may have been the "shower," a huge blue water container with a tube coming out of the opening at the top that attached to a contraption of tubes, foot pedals, and a shower head at the end. Yes, I foot-pumped my way semi-clean. That was to be my best shower in 24 days.

Anyway, we made it up to the lake itself after a brief respite from driving. We camped for a night:

We also did some horsebackriding and stayed with the guide's family for a night. The second day I spent a long time with these interesting children.

One of them wouldn't stop socking me in the groin, and I learned a lot about child rearing by watching the half-naked one being cared for by his mother.There really are animals everywhere. I think we saw some wild horses but all the other animals: goats, sheep, camels and a few pigs, undoubtedly belonged to herders. It is hard to imagine how they keep tabs on their animals. Near the end of the trip we saw a guy herding his camels by motorbike in the Gobi.

This next photo is out driver "Oot-zi." He was soft-spoken and kind, until about half-way through the trip when he got smashed on vodka and tried to take the stove apart in the ger (traditional mongolian dwelling) we were staying in. The following day he acted very strangely, but we soon realized he was *still* drunk. He tried to drink vodka shots with lunch but we protested heavily and even grabbed the bottle from his hand. I was very upset and left the canteen, but he followed me outside and in his broken English he said to me: "Ry Maya, ry? It Mongolian custom? Maya, ry? Ry? These friend, ry Maya. Please." and so forth. I was very angry but after a good nights sleep everything was almost back to normal.

We had another long day's drive, passing through Moron again and camping outside of Jargalant. Many of the cities seem like sad places, a few cars rustle through the dirst or over broken pavement, tiny shops litter the wide streets and children with dark blue suits or bright white bows skip up dust around their ankles. Still, I wouldn't mind doing some fieldwork in Jargalant or elsewhere...

At one point we took a detour to a Bronze Age site, Uushigiin Uver, where we saw some deerstones and sacrificial altars. Most of the detail was washed from the stones, but what remained was fantastic.

Terkhiin Tsagaan Nuur (known in English as the Great White Lake) was our next major stop. The freshwater lake is surrounded by volcanic craters and was formed by lava flows from an eruption thousands of years ago. It is relatively undevelopedand the lake is still a beautiful place to camp.

We hiked up a small volcano, Khorgo Uul and got a good look inside the cone. The best part however, was looking out back towards the lake, as the land between them consists of a few trees and millions of pieces and chunks and boulders of black volcanic rock. Pieces of it look like some strange set of a sci-fi picture from the 1960s.

Our spot by the lake was great, we were on a flat plain some woody and dry trees, with perfect views of the lake, surrounding mountain range, and of course the sunrises and sunsets.

We passed through the town of Tsetserleg and spent the night at a "hotel," and when we woke up it had snowed! This is probably where I was when the freeze hit Mongolia and so many people died.

No Mongolian trip is complete without a visit to Kharkorin (karakorum), the location of Chinggis Khaan's (Genghis Khan) ancient capital. There isn't much left of the ancient city, but the new one is built close to the Erdene Zuu (Hundred Treasures) monastary. It took 300 years for them to complete the monastary, the first one in Mongolia.

At its height there were close to 100 temples and 300 gers set up inside, with 1000 monks residing. It was abandoned and later invaded by Chinese, so those things are gone and the monastery is a shell of stupas and a few temples. Communists allowed some restoration but no religious services or practices. However, the collapse of communism in 1990 changed that, so there are a few monks in residence. They are likely to wear sneakers with their robes, though.

Outside the city and monastary walls are turtle rocks, four of which once marked the boundaries on the ancient city. Turtles are considered symbols of eternity.

We stayed at a local homestay guesthouse (ended up camping 16 nights and staying in guesthouses 7 nights) where we were treated to a small throat singing performance by a former air traffic controller named B Baasandorj. He played a few different instruments, including a stick with he rapped against his knuckles, head, teeth and hip. In the photo below he is playing a horse head fiddle, one of the national instruments, and is tuned by fourth and fifth harmony. Many traditional melodies emulate the sounds animals make: sheep, cow and calf, and the craw. I was surprised and pleased to learn that the traditional instruments and music remain popular with the young and old. I used my italk attached to my ipod to record many of his songs. I'll play them for you sometime, or at least forward an mp3 if you're interested.

On the way out of the city we stopped briefly at a 'vaginal slope' and 'phallic rock.' The slope pictured is clearly huge, as there is a car and a person in the photo. My guidebook says "Legend has it that the rock was placed there in attempt to stop frisky monks, filled with lust by the shapely slope, from fraternizing with the local women."

We enjoyed a stop at the ruins of Ovgon Khiid before campng nearby. It was a great place to camp, but I was startng to feel the ravages of so many days in swirling winds and dust, along with too much sun.

More ruins a couple days later... This collection of former monasteries is known as Ongiin Khiid, and the monk pictured below opened up the temples for us and then followed me around. I felt like I was the only one there, an archaeologist exploring remains of hearths, ceremonial rooms and bedrooms.

Camels! I drank vodka made from fermented and distilled camel milk later in the trip.

Next we visited the famous "Flaming Cliffs" of Roy Chapman Andrews, the site of a terrific dinosaur egg find in the 1920s by Roy Chapman Andrews. His work led to some really strange discoveries later in the century, including an 80 million year-old fossil of a Protoceratops and a Velociraptor locked in mortal combat. Andrews is supposedly the figure that Indiana Jones was based on.

We then headed for the some of the largest sand dunes in Mongolia, the Khongoryn Els, which have heights up to 300 meters, widths of up to 12km and a length of 100km! Some call them the duut mankhan (singing dunes) because they rumble below you, a sound not unlike a throat singer or a camel.

Camel rides are all the rage, but I would not recommend more than two hours. Also, Mongolian saddles aren't appropriate when your camel gallops. I couldn't sit properly for at least two days.

This really is too long. Here you see Yolyn Am (Vultures Mouth), an unusual rock formation in the Gobi that has tons of ice almost all year! Guess when there was no ice... I did see some interesting cows.

Sunset near a place that looked so much like Mars I wanted to look for the rover.

Some of my best moments on the trip were spent with this girl. She was a neighbor of our driver's brother in the North Gobi. I watched her family set up their ger, and I have an entry in the works which is about how gers are constructed and what is inside them. She started calling me Enn-nyah after a couple hours and when I asked Ootzi he said it means sister. It was a wonderful day.

The Sum Khokh Burd, built in the 10th century, was a temple and later a palace. The ruins were quite beautiful. I especially loved the way the stones were stacked.

The granite rock formation Baga Gazrin Chuluu had some of the best views at sunset, and a walk in these ruins was a perfect goodbye to rural Mongolia.

Also, here is a decent site with information about many of the sites I visited.

In a few days I head back to China after about 5 weeks here. I will slowly upload all of the pictures and post links to the sets in a new sidebar feature sometime soon. Ger entry coming soon!!

I'm Back

2005-09-27T18:41:00.000-07:00

Back in the big city! I'm working on a boring
and trite entry that is entirely too long.

Meanwhile, did you miss me?

Check One:
__ Yes
__ No

postscript: I missed you.

Beijing to Ulaanbaatar

2005-09-03T04:55:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I left Beijing for the sweet, sweet skies of Mongolia. One of the concessions to planning I made while still in the states was this train ticket. I found an agent in Beijing to book it for the price plus about $20 USD in commission ($86 USD total). This turned out to be a pretty good deal, as I heard stories of people paying upwards of $300 USD. We left Beijing on 30 August just before 8 am and were to arrive in Ulaanbaatar midday 31 August. I was lucky to have just two other people in my compartment (2nd class "hard" sleeper) designed for four. Nathan, a Mancurian just departing work in Phoenix, Arizona, was good company, and Chris, a St. Andrews Senior from the Eastern Coast of the US joined us with tales of travel, sailing, and his girlfriend back home. Along the way we were privy to spectacular views of the great wall for the better part of an hour. Most of the time we chatted and snacked, read and played cards. It was more tiring that it seems, but when we got to the Mongolian border near midnight we were in for a real treat. Train enthusiasts might get a kick out of this... Russian (and therefore Mongolian) trains and Chinese trains use different railway gauges, so each time the train passes from one country to the next, the bogies need to be changed. We opted to stay on and watch the operation.

This internet cafe closes in a few minutes so I will rush through some things from the last few days. Mongolians can be very aggressive. UB is a small but urban city- very Russian (though I am guessing). Half of the 2.8 million Mongolians in Mongolia live here... There is wonderful Western food and good beer.

Tomorrow I am heading out on a privately planned 24 days trip around the country. I have hired a van with 3 others and we head to Lake Khoysgol... We will be camping about 20 of those nights. Hopefully the Siberian winter won't be too painful or early. Thank you for the well wishes, comments and emails.

Beijing: The Skyless City

2005-08-28T21:49:00.000-07:00

Beijing has no sky. The closest thing to it is a permanent haze of industrial and automotive pollution. My first days here I assumed it was overcast, but nothing changes, mornings and afternoons are indistinguishable. The dirt is not as obvious as the absence of sky suggests, however. On nearly every street an orange-uniformed peasant sweeps with a straw broom and a hinged tin canister. The jumpsuits are always too big, rolled cuffs scraping the street, fraying. It is definitely too soon for this liberal travel guilt, but what do you do and how do you escape knowing that your approximate daily budget is more than what 1 billion people in China earn in one month? The average income of city dwellers is 2-4x higher than the country's peasants, closer to $1000 a year.

What else? The crippled pawns in the shopping district, placed near bowls they can not even reach, so many bicycles, traffic congestion, the heat and cement combining and ensuring insufferable stickiness, the spitting - everyone speaks of the spitting, people staring at my shoes, and even in this big city some things are incredibly cheap. My hostel is reasonable, a bunk in a 6 bed room, about US$6 a night with free breakfast. Other meals are reasonable from US$.25- US$3 for street or simple restaurant food.

Yesterday I went to the Great Wall. I was under the delusional impression that the walk would be pleasant. Against better judgement, I went with a group put together by the hostel. We were plunked at the base of a moderately sized mountain and climbing it brought us to Tower 1 of the Jinshaling Wall section. The hike took just under an hour and we were meant to hike to another section of the Great Wall, Simatai, at Tower 30. Now, the distance covered and exertion required for covering one or two towers is completely reasonable. It was terribly difficult and strenuous to cover as much as we did- about 4 miles along the wall after the 2 miles uphill hike. I was happy that the group spread out and I was by myself almost the whole time. The haze of Beijing followed us to the wall, unfortunately, making photos look ominous and dingy.

Tomorrow morning I take a 30 hour train to Ulan Bator, Mongolia. I'm ecstatic, as Mongolia is one of these places that I fantasize about as an anthropologist. It is second only to Borneo, which I visited two years ago. The plan is to find 1-3 other solo travelers, buy horses and gear and set out for a couple weeks. That seems easy enough.

Here is a quick reference so you can see what time it is where I am... I made this to have in my notebook: