The Banyan Tree and a Man With One Hundred Names

It so happens that every once and a while one comes across a really great human being. Well, to be truthful, I am partial to most human beings and so this great event happens nearly daily. But even so, I can still recognize an exceptional teacher when I cross paths with one. Dr. Ngoc, a 96 year old Vietnamese historian, is one such person. After two impressive lectures on early Vietnamese history and anti-colonial sentiment in Vietnam, I was rightfully in awe. After his 10k walks in the morning, Dr. Ngoc jumps from lecture to event with the youthfulness of a twenty year old. He never once used notes in his two hour lectures and, though his right eye would leak occasionally, a result of a stroke a few years back, he was the most stoic and articulate speaker we had during our stay in Hanoi. His lecture on the nationalism inspired by Uncle Ho, the man with one hundred names, and his use of the banyan tree as an analogy for the "hearty stock of the Vietnamese people" wove like poetic threads throughout his eloquent talks. 

Beyond the walls of our stifling classrooms and during the time after long lectures, we spent our afternoons and evenings wandering about the northern city. Sometimes recovering from eating too many pineapple drumsticks or a long night at Beer Corner with a walk around one of Hanoi's lakes or squeezing through the narrow passages of the old, colonial quarter. Vietnam left a lasting impression. Despite its long, bloody military history, the Vietnamese people I spent time with were some of the kindest and least nationalistic of all of the places we've been. Even more surprisingly, almost no sign of anti-American sentiment remains anywhere. After spending Christmas and New Year's with my parents in Sa Pa and Halong Bay, I got a pretty good glance at Northern Vietnam. What a place it is.

To view my father's photos from Vietnam and Siem Reap, Cambodia:

http://web.me.com/jsan06/Home_Pages/Vietnam_%26_Cambodia.html#grid

photos: Nat smiling in front of a pile of scrap metal and pieces of old US bomber planes at Hanoi's Revolutionary Museum, Dr. Ngoc working at his desk.

A Birthday to Remember

A lot has happened over the last few weeks. We've all grown a bit tired of one another's company, been worked hard by Prof. Fields in his course on Chinese and Vietnamese nationalism, rubbed shoulders with President Thomas and his wife at the swanky Shangri-La Hotel, and I've matured to the ripe old age of twenty-three. That's right, I've officially reached the sixth position in the Pacrim hierarchy and am now reaping the sweet, sweet benefits.

After celebrating Thanksgiving with five imported turkeys, which our Chinese hosts politely ate, despite their dislike for the taste of this foreign bird, we all participated in a small tour about the bridges of Fuzhou, one of China's major port cities. The mixing of old, imperial establishments and new sky scrappers and apartment complexes creates a colorful, architectural juxtaposition that leaves one's head spinning. Contrary to many of my peers sentiments about the place, I really enjoyed our time in Fuzhou. It is one of the places in Asia that my brother and I have come to classify as "honestly imperfect" and I think this is an outcome of the bitter sweetness we feel after having lived in places such as China. The bitterness is a product of the usual discomforts of developing countries: poverty, pollution, rapid urban development and a pervasive, often hugely disheartening consumer culture.

As for the sweetness, this was due in large part to our kind hosts from Hwa Nan Women's College. We were introduced to our Hwa Nan "buddies" our first full day in Fuzhou and were subsequently invited out on hikes to nearby mountains, treated to many meals, given tours of the city, and asked a multitude of questions by these fine young ladies. Any shyness we felt upon meeting one another was soon overcome by the burning desire to brush up on our rusty foreign language skills and by the possibility of learning something substantial about the city and it's history. There is nothing like having access to the local community during travel; it opens up many new doors and alters one's perspective of a place in a way that is otherwise unattainable. To be able to scratch beneath the surface is quite unique in our unusual situation.

My birthday was one of many during our three weeks stay but was one I will never forget. I woke up at the crack of dawn for a hike up Gushan, a nearby mountain, with my buddy, Eva, her friend Vera, and Karin. After an hour long bus ride and a steady two-hour climb to the top, we looked out over the haze at the Fuzhou landscape and caught our breath before heading down into the crowded streets once more. Afterwards we ate some traditional, greasy McDonald's, cake, and then there was nothing to do but dance, dance, dance. And dance we did. I capped off the evening with a short and harmless conversation with the CCP police, which brought the festivities to a firm close. 

While my own views on China are not shared by the whole of our group, I am grateful for the opinions of even the most unhappy of our members. I've learned a lot about these people and have come to know their best and worst sides, as they have learned of mine. It is an interesting kind of experiment we are a part of and I think we are all learning to adapt in ways we never thought possible, even if it means enduring a bit of discomfort at times. With the trials of China living and personal travel in Japan behind us, we are ready for the next curve ball to be thrown. But first there is the arrival of family, Christmas, and lounging on the beaches of Vietnam to enjoy.

photos: Olivia, Eva, and Vera on Gushan, me blowing out candles in our classroom.

A Holiday on Honshu

At the end of our stay in Japan, Rachel J and I gave our JR rail passes a workout. We traveled up and down Honshu, stopping everywhere from Hiroshima to Nagano in a matter of hours, hurrying from platform to platform, stopping to ask for timetables and directions inbetween. The highlights of our maelstrom of a trip were: a trip to the Peace museum in Hiroshima where we hung the thousand paper cranes we folded between final exams in Kyoto, returning to Kyoto Station for only a couple of hours to ensure that our stored luggage was not "impounded" by the locker attendants, hiking along the cold coast of the Sea of Japan among small flocks of Japanese businessmen, and skating at the M-Wave in Nagano (sacred ice that was once the stage for such childhood heroes as Kristi Yamaguchi and many, many more).

Between tottering around the speed-skating rink and climbing the sand dunes of Tottori, Rachel and I enjoyed our last bites of mochi, udon, and a few swigs of quality Suntory liquor. We acquired some o-mamori at an old Buddhist temple in Nagano and soothed our traveling muscles in our evening bath at an onsen. In all it was an pleasant but exhausting five days apart from the chaos of group travel that made us further appreciate all the work our directors put into making lodging and travel arrangements for the lot of us. We were happy to see the familiar faces of our group mates and to exchange stories before heading back to China.

I will miss my host mother's home cooking and the quiet, lengthy bus rides around beautiful Kyoto but I am happy, having moved on to something new. So long Japan.

photos: The sand dunes of Tottori, the A-bomb dome and Peace Park in Hiroshima.

Lunch in Japan: Mochi Eyes and Tofu Membrane

It sounds like something from a Halloween flick, I know. But the fact of the matter is, Japan has some weird food. And I love it, even the octopus pancakes. Since spending money is done with great ease here, most of us end up sitting on the front steps of school, eating trays of noodles and onigiri with sour plum paste inside while sipping chu-hi's, all bought for next to nothing at the 99 cent store across the street. It is always an adventure, choosing one's lunch.

Since moving out of my host family's house (more on this later, I'm writing an article for the program's blog on homestays), I've had plenty of opportunity to cook in the small apartment I now share with our director, her husband, our business and health directors, and their boyfriends. Only yesterday I attempted to bake cookies in our tiny but efficient microwave/oven. After Professor Benard and I finally decoded the buttons, the machine produced a few batches of half-baked, rather mediocre chocolate chip cookies.

Strange nosh aside, my experiences here over the last few weeks have been full of adventurous discovery, good-natured mix-ups and miscommunications. I have stumbled clumsily along the trendy avenues of Kyoto and have never been more aware of my gaijin ways. Despite all of my short-comings and gracelessness, I have been welcomed with open arms and encouraged by many of the Japanese people I have come to know well. With my first homestay under my belt, I am feeling more confident and adaptable and now look forward to a short break and a bit of relaxation before heading back to China.

Photos: Rachel J and me eating our kombini lunches at school.

Tending Toward Silence

We have been in Japan for over a week now and with the excitement surrounding the presidential election (YES! Obama!), the looming papers, exams, and our hour-two hour commutes to school have many of us beat. Despite my exhaustion, I am smitten with Kyoto and spend my days indulging my sweet tooth at the many boulangeries and walking the downtown streets between temple visits. Kyoto and Nara, two ancient Japanese capitals, have history seeping out of the cracks in their narrow sidewalks. It is enchanting to wander down little side streets where the teahouses look out over the mossy, channeled streams--mind you don't make yourself an obstacle on the cyclists paths!

I have also been enjoying my stay with my host family. I've learned to make some traditional Japanese dishes under the kind tutelage of my host mother, and have gone shopping with my trendy older host sisters a number of times now. Our greatest challenge is basic communication. It is a simple problem: they know a few words in English and I am capable of expressing only basic greetings ("good morning," "good evening," etc.). Most of the time I am silent. I spend most of my time awkwardly trying to pantomime my way through dinner or drawing pictures to express myself. It is like being placed at the kids table and overhearing a few words of adult conversation. I have learned to read body language extremely well and this sometimes makes things more confusing as it appears that I understand more than I do. There are moments of loneliness and occasions that feel "successful," like when I am able to put together small sentences. No matter how tired she is, my host mother always makes an effort to include me in conversations, or at least clue me in to what is being discussed. I am so grateful for her effort and it's my hope to communicate at least that much in the next week and a half before we pick up and leave again.

I will have more time to write again after these papers are finished but those are my present thoughts on Japan. Celebrate for me in the States, please.

On Living the Hai Life and a Short Adieu to China

As our time in Northern China comes to a close and we prepare ourselves for the next leg of our journey, I recognize a note of bittersweetness in my reflections. There is a lot to love and a lot to find fault with here. Our whirlwind tour of the place has only allowed for a fragmented view of this country but I'm happy for the experience of it, as it is so different than anything else we have done or have yet to do. Our understanding of things is only just beginning and now we are leaving--but thus is the nature of travel, especially on our route.

After visiting the terra cotta warriors and wandering the narrow passageways of the old Muslim Quarter in Xi'an, Shanghai is a thrilling place to end our stay. The skyscrapers, the streets of seemingly endless shopping malls, the mix of old, colonial Europe and new China, is an exemplary juxtaposition of history and modernity that is a source of pride of many Chinese living here. Of all the old port cities, Shanghai is certainly an impressive model of China's industriousness and fast-paced development. It has all the comforts of the US and manages to house at least five million more people than any large metropolis in the States. Huge apartment complexes are going up all over the place and most buildings are over forty stories tall, creating somewhat of a cluttered landscape not unlike the canopy of a rain forest where all the tallest points are racing towards the heavens, dwarfing their neighbors in an attempt to absorb the glory of being the fastest vertical climber.

This will have to be a short entry as it is late here and I have laundry to attend to in my hotel room sink, but I will spend some more time reflecting and get back to you soon with further impressions of this bizarre and bewitching place.

photos: Epiphany, Jane, and Rachel, in our cabin on one of our many-hour train rides,  the waterfront in downtown Shanghai, a pond at a temple of Chinese folk religion, and walking at dusk in Wutaishan.

China on the Run

Having been in China for over a week now, we are all growing more and more comfortable with the language, the food, and our roles as tourists. We are frequently asked to stop and pose in photos, holding adorable Chinese babies or we are more "slyly" included in family photos. Whether it is the long blondish hair, the freckled skin, the big noses, our presence seems such a novelty that it is impossible for Chinese tourists to pass up the opportunity to capture our foreign faces on their memory cards.

Besides being in photos, I have really enjoyed China so far. Indeed, being able to speak some of the language and read some of the characters aids in my comfort here. Also, I find the history of the country, the old architecture, and the pristine nature that is found outside the busy metropolises to be very pleasing.

In Beijing we stayed in a beautiful, old part of the city, just outside of the Forbidden City, that thoroughly enchanted us all. The houtangs, or old, historic streets, are home to the wealthy, and offer many small, winding avenues, that made exploring a real adventure. Since the Olympics, there has been a huge change in the city. We were surprised to find little pollution and almost no trash cluttering the streets--something that was omnipresent in Mongolia--and lots of lush, green boulevards, upon our arrival. After wandering the parks and visiting the pagodas and temples for a few days, we were shuttled onward to Wutaishan, the "five terraced mountains."

Wutaishan is a hot spot for Buddhist pilgrims and tied in well with our Buddhism course. The town itself (I say town because any place with fewer than about two million inhabitants is considered a "town"), is situated in the "Buddha's palm," while the five peaks run clockwise around it to create the "fingers." We spent most of our first day there visiting temples, simultaneously taking notes and photos at each, and making our way to our cozy, tucked away hotel. Four days was a rather generous amount of time for us to stay in so secluded a place but we made the most of our visit and, between class and temple visits, we were able to do some hiking along the forested mountainsides.

I look forward to the next stint in China and, now that my computer is mysteriously working again, do my best to keep this blog up-to-date. The fast pace of this tour has got all of our heads spinning but I shall do my best to keep mine screwed on tight and take in all I'm able. Until later, zai jian.

photos: the moat and northeast corner of the Forbidden City, Rachel, our English-speaking friend Mac, and me jumping off the steps at the Yungang Grottoes, The Hanging Cliff Temple, and Epiphany walking around one of the many temples visited in Wutaishan.