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.

A Farewell to Mongolia

As our departure from Mongolia approaches, I've found myself reflecting on our time here with surprising fondness. Below is a list of a few things I'd like to remember about UB:

-the bright orange awnings of the fresh fruit stands that appear each morning on every corner, their patrons gathered en masse to select the best kiwis and Asian pears before work

-the strange Soviet architecture: the pastel buildings with their white columns and the broken yellow, red, green, and blue sidewalk tiles often interrupted by large potholes and the occasional missing manhole cover

-cheerful young fathers with their children in arms, cooing to them softly as they accompany their wives on their errands

-little, aimless old ladies in their colorful deels, tall black boots, and cashmere berets-their purses clutched in their wrinkled hands-making their way slowly through the crowds of poshly dressed young people on the streets

-weird tasting dairy products (dried yogurt and cheeses) made from yak's milk sold in every grocery store--something I've not yet taken a liking to...

-traditional throat singers who can "play" their vocal cords and can create three notes at once (called Huumii in Mongolian) as they strum away at a sheep's head fiddle they hold between their knees

-the cigarette/candy/fruit vendors who will charge 100 tugrugs for a local phone call on the bulky old phones they hold in their laps

-the ODB--our nickname for the town groper (a real pro) who asks if we speak English, hands us a little card explaining how his family died in a fire and he needs money, and, while our hands are occupied, goes in for a squeeze when we're least expecting it

-the warmth of a ger at night and the small hole of blue sky visible at the roof's center in the morning

-couples sharing lunch together on benches surrounding the old cement playgrounds in courtyards tucked away, just off the busy streets of downtown

-the daily guilt trip from our Russian hostel owner about not putting two pieces of toast in the toaster--something a Mongolian person would never do--among other criticisms of Americans

-young kids dressed up in suits and ties, dresses and patent leather shoes, carrying flowers for their teachers who yell 'hello' to us in English as their parents make sure they make it safely across the heavily trafficked streets

-the cozy German bakery where we often get a sandwich and good coffee and take in the smells of bread baking and pastry dough rising after class

-a profound feeling of foreignness.

I shall miss this place. Beyond Mongolia's rough exterior, there is a beauty about this place that I will carry with me for a long while still.

photos: the strange "D" shaped building south of Sukhbaatar Square with mountains in the distance, and a brick layer fixing up a huge piece of sidewalk along a storefront, and a woman setting up her fruit stand on Peace Ave. in UB.

The Gobi: Mongolia's Last Frontier

Despite a bit of illness, a sandstorm, and eleven hour bus rides--or maybe because of these things--our time in the Gobi was little short of a grand adventure. We spent out time learning traditional Mongolian folk songs (Nat seems to have mastered more of the language than anyone), joking around with the Mongolian staff, riding camels, eating lots of mutton (I've quite sated any appetite I'd had before leaving), and sleeping in gers (Mongolian yurts). Between Dramamine doses, I got a good glimpse of the vast countryside. Once we ventured out beyond UB's paved roads, the rolling hills around the city guided us across the vast landscapes and, as the vegetation tapered off, we entered the desert. The Gobi felt rather wilder and more lawless than any place I've ever been in the US. It felt like what I imagine the unsettled West to have felt like and gives one the impression that one is alone, even though there are plenty of goats and yaks and sheep to tell you otherwise. The Abbott and his wonderful crew cooked us huge feasts of mutton stew and baked us bread each day and were often up until the wee hours sharing drink and songs with some of our group. We we able to finish up our Paleo "midterm" amidst some nasty viral bug that kept most of us running back and forth between our gers and the toilet, and even visited the famous Flaming Cliffs where Roy Chapman Andrews discovered one of the first dinosaur egg nests. After a trip to the Great Sand Dunes and the ruins of Khar Khourum, the ancient capital, we made our way back onto pavement and back to UB where we'll spend some more time finishing up our Paleo lessons and begin our coursework in Buddhism before heading to Northern China. I will do my best to keep you all updated and feel free to ask further questions of me if you want to know more about our travels. Be well, until later.

Photos: The Abbott looking out over a forested valley outside of Khar Khorum, our friendly bus, the hills surrounding our camp the first night, the Flaming Cliffs, a ger camp, and camel riding in the Gobi.

Pollution, Poverty, and (finally) a Bit of Comfort in UB

Having grown more comfortable in UB over the past few days, I've gotten the chance to explore more of the city. There is a great little "Irish" pub around the corner and the back alleys, home to many fortune tellers and small tradesmen, are fun to wander about, as long as you keep your wits about you (and keep your coin purse tucked away). We finally ate some delicious borscht and mutton dumpling soup after deciphering the Cyrillic menu during a lunch break yesterday and found a good vegetarian spot as well. The stark contrast between the wealth of the city folk and those from the countryside, down on their luck is repeated everywhere and it creates the most interesting dynamic of any city I've ever visited. It is not uncommon to see young women trot along the broken concrete in their stilettos while a beggar pulls at their skirt hem, asking for a dollar or two. I am proud to report that my street crossing skills have improved greatly. Since there are few traffic lights and no real traffic laws, it's a game of chicken between driver and pedestrian. I've learned that crossing in numbers is key as well as an unwavering, intimidating stare and keeping one hand raised to slap the hood of the car who challenges you. It takes a great deal of gumption but I think I've got the hang of it. Cars are treated like horses and are parked everywhere and anywhere there seems room for them. Despite all of the air pollution (which leaves you feeling as though you've smoked a pack of cigarettes in the morning), Rachel Moshier spotted two Prius's the other day. In two days we leave for the Gobi where we'll be riding camels and possibly visiting a dig somewhere. I am so looking forward to getting out of the city and exploring beyond its walls. What lies ahead I'll soon discover. Good to hear from you all and be well until later.

Photo: The gate outside the Tibetan Buddhist monastery we take class in.

Mongolia beginnings!

Arriving in Mongolia yesterday was a bit of a shock. Flying in we could see the unpaved dirt roads leading out from the city. Ulaanbaatar itself is an interesting place, with is gers surrounding the outskirts of the city and the rough roads and potholes and crazy traffic (we got in around rush hour and our bus driver navigated his way through the city by creating his own lanes between to formal ones and cutting other drivers off left and right). The hot water comes and goes so I jumped in the shower this morning, not knowing when "the water will be up" again. Despite my own naivety at never having travelled in a less developed country before, I am so taken with the wilderness surrounding the bug city that whatever mishaps might occur, I feel certain I'll enjoy the countryside a great deal. For now though, pick-pockets are the greatest threat to our comfort and the 30,000 children living in the streets are heartbreaking to be near and create a sharp contrast to our huge, mostly white, wealthy traveling pod. I haven't tried any mutton stew yet but surely that will happen before we take off for the Gobi. I hope all is well at home, feel free to shoot me a line and say 'hello.' More soon from these parts.

Photos: The countryside surrounding the city, the walk back from class into downtown UB.

A Long Time Coming

After what has seemed like an eternity of waiting, we arrived in Incheon City, South Korea and have now begun the adventure. I'm already overwhelmed by the foreignness of this place and my rather uncomfortable role as a foreigner and tourist. Walking down the crowded streets of Seoul with Nat yesterday further emphasized this foreignness as people stopped to speak with him and take photos with us. We've now consumed many side dishes of kimchee (though have only tried one of the two-hundred or so varieties that are a source of national pride for South Koreans), hiked around the outside of the city hall Korean Folk Museum, and palace compound, and looked out over the mud flats that surround our little island. In only one day, we begin our course work in Mongolia and there will be more exploring to do and culture to adjust to then. Until then, adieu, and hopefully there will be photos posted soon.

Photo: The palace compound in downtown Seoul.