Cu Chi Tunnels

(PICTURE: Me sliding into the tunnel.)

Yesterday Hien took Ryan and I to the Cu Chi Tunnels. To quote Lonely Planet, "The tunnel network of Cu Chi became legendary during the 1960s for its role in facilitating Viet Cong control of a large rural area only 30km to 40km from HCMC. At its height the tunnel system stretched from the South Vietnamese capital to the Cambodian border; in the district of Cu Chi alone there were more than 250km of tunnels." 

To paraphrase there's a hell of a lot of tunnels under the ground that the Viet Cong used during the war. If you're a Platoon fan you'll remember the scene when the soldiers argue about who will have to go into the tunnel. Nobody wants to because it meant pretty certain death. 

The actual site is a huge tourist attraction. When we arrived there were buses and buses of foreigners ready to explore the tunnels and fire some artillery at the on-site shooting range. Our tour guide's name was Joey: "My name is Joey. Joey. Joey like a kangaroo. Baby kangaroo. Yeah, Joey" which he told us at least three dozen times. The only thing he told us more was that, "I like Americans because I like Yankee dollars." 

Anyway, Joey led us around the site and gave us a lecture about the tunnels followed by a ten minute documentary that could have been made by a four year old with an ibook. But rather than deconstruct the documentary I'll comment on the tunnels. Immediately upon walking into the compound we walked up to a tiny opening in the ground. Joey asked who would like to go into the tunnels first. I wish I could say that I was the first volunteer but I was staring at the hole thinking there was no way I could fit into it. One thing it doesn't take long to recognize out here is that Americans aren't quite the same size as Vietnamese (I'm already having nightmares about trying to find underwear that will fit me). 

Well, some guy volunteered to go into the tunnel who was a little smaller than me. He shimmied through the hole and after a second disappeared into the darkness. The next volunteer was Hien who is clearly braver than I am (and in my defense, a lot smaller). Hien dropped into the hole and also disappeared. We were told by the kangaroo guide that there were a couple of paths in the tunnel but only one that led to the exit about forty feet away. Forty feet isn't very far at all so I figured people would start popping up in a minute or two at the most. Well, five minutes went by and nobody came up. 

Just as I started to think this was some kind of cruel joke the first guy popped up out of the tunnel. He looked a little flabbergasted and exclaimed, "Don't go left. It's a dead end." Left by the way was the direction Joey said to go in. Followed by the guy was Hien. She had a giant smile across her face which was soon wiped away as she banged her head on the top of the tunnel. BAM. 

Hien and the random guy both made it out alive so I thought I could do it too. I handed Ryan my stuff and jumped right into the hole. I had to raise my hands above my head in order to fit but with just a little shoulder shake I slid right down. At the bottom of the hole was the tunnel and looking into it I couldn't see a thing. I hadn't seen darkness as dark as this since I had gone spelunking at Camp Airy. Showing no fear I crouched down and began to crawl through the tunnel. I put my left hand in front of me and felt along the wall for the way to go. After going for about twenty feet or so I felt a fork in the road. Left or right. That decision was easy since I already knew the answer. Right it was. After crawling for about two minutes my mind started to feel a little uneasy: "Shouldn't I be near the end already?" "What if they forget to remove a booby trap?" What if this is the path to Cambodia?"...

As I started to slightly freak myself I felt something squishy with my left hand and immediately heard, "Hey, that's my bum." Apparently some British guy had jumped into the hole before me and I had caught up to him. He asked if I kindly not touch his butt again and I assured him that the Cu Chi tunnel was the only one I wanted to explore.  He and I continued to talk to one another as we made our way foward. Eventually he yelled out, "thank god, I see a light." I turned the bend and indeed there was a light. However, I saw something else too: A BAT. The bat apparently didn't see me though because it flew right into my face. I know bats are blind and that they use sonar so it really made no sense. However, the freaking bat slammed into my face. It was clearly startled too and flew backwards a foot then flew into my face again. The next few seconds were a blur as I ran/crawled towards the light. I began to run up the steps and in a high pitched voice cried out, "Jesus Christ, did you see that bat?!" Before I could get an answer I felt a huge blow to my head. No, it wasn't the bat again. It was the tunnel ceiling--the same one Hien had hit her head on minutes earlier. 

My Motorbike Gang

Here's a picture of my Ho Chi Minh City motorbike gang (minus my sweetheart Ryan who was taking the picture): Me, Hien, Linh, Au and of course Uncle Ho. 

I know it looks like I have a little belly but I assure you it's just the lighting in the post office. 

Vietnam Is Treating Me Right

(PICTURE: Hien putting on her apron.)

You know you're doing something right when you've been in a country for less than twenty four hours and a beautiful girl invites you over for a home cooked meal. I know what you're thinking, it must be the haircut. 

Yesterday was a traveler's dream day. Hien and her friends Linh and Au took Ryan and I out for a tour of Ho Chi Minh City...on their motorbikes. Despite being assured by Hien that she was, "The best driver in Vietnam" within the first hour we were almost run over by a city bus. I saw the bus coming the whole time and figured Hien had too. This was not the case. Luckily her cat-like reflexes kicked in inches before we became road pancakes. Some say you see your life flash before you right before you die, well, my life didn't flash before me but I had two very clear thoughts:

1. No way in hell am I ever getting a motorbike.

2. I'm definitely getting a motorbike because it can't get much more dangerous than that. 

Oh, and Mom, don't worry I was wearing a helmet. It's the law here. 

Hien and the girls took us to see Reunification Palace (the place where the famous helicopter took off with the last Americans out of Saigon), a very famous post-office and an extremely busy market where we drank very sketchy fruit/vegetable/yogart-ish drinks. After the Palace, Ryan wasn't feel up to par so Au took him back to our guest house. Hien, Linh and I ventured on to another museum and to see a water puppet show. 

Water Puppets are a big thing in 'Nam. It's just like it sounds, there are puppets performing in/on top of water. Water puppet theatre has been around for thousands of years. How, I don't know because it was the most boring thing I have ever watched. Basically it was like watching a rubber ducky splash around in a bathtub for thirty minutes. Snooze city. 

After the show, Linh went home and I got a private tour on Hien's bike. We drove around the city as she pointed out a few other sites. Much to my chagrin, Hien kept talking to me while driving. As much as I love talking to her, I wanted her full attention on the road. Remember, this was only a few hours after a bus almost kissed me with its front, middle and back tires. Luckily, we went without any further incidents the rest of the day with the only thing that could potentially kill me being some sketchy street food we ate (the bowl of soup had pork, coagulated blood, fish, crab, and I think one other meat). Oh, and just a note, I never thought I'd say this but when it comes to cleanliness I think Cambodia has Vietnam beat. In Cambodia they at least pretend to sterilize the silverware by dipping it into luke warm water. Here they make no such attempt to even fool you. Simply there's just a pile of chopsticks and spoons in a container which you pick up and use. Man, I miss those healthy living days of Cambodia. 

At the end of a long fantastic day with Hien she dropped me off at my guest house...and told me to be at her house an hour and a half later for dinner--she and her roommate were cooking for Ryan and I. I shouldn't really make this seem like a spur of the moment thing since I basically bullied Hien, via email over the last three months, into cooking for me. 

Ryan and I showed up at Hien's place (which is also the school I'll be finishing my classes at since she takes care of the property) and were treated to an amazing meal. What made it so amazing you're probably asking yourself? Well, probably because Ryan and I helped fold the spring rolls. I'm sure they would have been great on their own but we added that perfect seasoning--American hands. 

It was a great first full day in Vietnam and one thing is certain, I'm well taken care of in Ho Chi Minh City. 

Haircut

(FLASHBACK PHOTO: (2003) After growing my hair for a year and a half I finally got my hair cut in my kitchen by my mother's hairstylist.)

My hair has gone through many different styles over the years. I've had the buzz cut, frohawk, 4th grade flat top, part on the side, long disgusting hair, corn rows, etc. Well, as you may have noticed in a few pictures over the last couple months my hair was starting to veer towards my classic 2003 long hair phase. Sure it was probably a year away from rivaling the 11 inches I grew for Locks of Love, but nonetheless it was already at the unmanageable phase. Usually my excuse for not getting my haircut is that prices for a decent barber have skyrocketed over the years and go directly against my "No More Than $10 For A Haircut" rule. Well, in southeast Asia a $10 haircut would get you a shampoo, a cut and probably a hooker. So, I made a new rule: "No More Than A Dollar For A Haircut." 

In Phnom Penh, barbers set up chairs right on the sidewalk and proceed to cut customers hair right onto the ground. Basically in Cambodia you can set up a shop anywhere on public property and conduct business. This goes for all the street side restaurants to the ladies who give manicures and pedicures on park benches outside of Buddhist temples.  Every day I would see people getting their haircut and think to myself as I sweated profusely because of the mop on my head, "I really need a haircut." 

On the way home from class the other night I finally decided it was time for a chop. As our tuk-tuk sped its way into our neighborhood I began to look for someone who could cut my hair. No street barbers were in sight. However, there was a sign with pictures of women's hairstyles so I figured they must cut hair too. I told the tuk-tuk to pull over and I jumped out. I walked into the salon -- as much as you can "walk into" a place with no front door since the store front is open to the street -- and was greeted with very confused looks by the two girls inside. I said to them, "Hi, I'd like a haircut" and simultaneously made Edward Scissorhands like motions to my hair. The girls looked at each and shrugged as if to say, "why not?" I asked how much it would cost and the girl said, "$1." Generally speaking, most non-English speaking Cambodians have a working English language of about twenty words--"how," "much," "one," and "dollar" being 4 out of their twenty words or 20% of their vocabulary (that math is correct, right, Bier?).  

So I sat down in a chair and had a smock put around me. It was at this point that I made a few observations:

1. One of the two girls in the salon wasn't an employee but rather was a customer. I'm also pretty sure she was a prostitute. And if she wasn't a prostitute she was getting ready for a wedding.  Sounds strange but I really think those were the only two options the way her make-up and hair were.

2. The shop wasn't a place to get your hair cut; it was for getting your hair styled. And when I say "your hair", I mean women's hair. Every girl that walked into the shop, or past the shop, yelled something out in Khmer during my haircut which was followed by lots of laughter. 

3. Because this wasn't a place to really get your haircut, I was about to be experimented on by an amateur stylist. 

That said, I had two options:

1. Take off the smock and leave. 

2. Get a potentially horrible haircut. 

Most people would take option #1. However, I decided to just go for it as I heard my mother's words -- circa 1994 when I walked out of Rocko's with a haircut that unfortunately looked just like his, -- echoing in the back of my head, "It's just hair. It'll grow back." 

The haircut last about twenty minutes and it seemed that she used whatever tools happen to be laying near the chair. There was a pair of scissors that may or may not have been for cutting paper. There was some weird tool to I think layer my hair which basically ripped out chunks of hair at one time. Was it painful? Yes. And then there was the blade she used to shave my neck. I'm convincing myself it was a blade and not a tool used to scrape paint off the wall because, well, that's exactly what it looked like. Either way luckily I got a Tetanus booster before I left the states. 

After she was all done chopping, pulling, tearing, scraping all the hair on my body above my shoulders she asked me if I'd like my hair washed. Sure, why not? She then proceeded to dump half a bottle of shampoo on my head and then spray me with some water and wash my hair. She did this for about about fifteen minutes creating an extreme amount of soap suds which went all over the floor...and my shirt. She then took off all soap with a towel and dumped the other half of the shampoo bottle onto my head. After another fifteen minutes she  washed my hair off in a sink and then gave me a shoulder, neck and head massage. This felt great until she ended it by karate chopping my skull for three minutes--clearly some kind of massage technique. All I could think of as my head was pounded on was, "This isn't the best place to come for someone with concussion problems." 

After all was said and done, the whole experience ended up costing me $3. $1 for the haircut and $2 for the massage/head pounding. I know I broke my own rule for not paying more than $1 for a haircut in southeast Asia but it was worth it...my hair looks fantastic. 

Connect Four Part II

(PICTURE: They hand this to you at the Royal Palace. They only recommend you don't bring in guns.)

In preparation for my triumphant return to Howie's bar, I spent twenty minutes googling Connect Four theory the other night. I found a 91 page thesis online which proves that if one goes in the center column on the first move, and plays a perfect game, it is impossible to lose. This was exactly what I needed! Unfortunately I couldn't gain access to the paper...so I settled for a 29 page document I found which had the same basic premise. Ryan and I spent the day combing through the paper trying to find all the most important information. We outlined a few key points and memorized the ideal first five moves. Ryan and I quizzed each other for hours:

BEN: You start at D1, your opponent goes A1.

RYAN: I go anywhere but A2 or B1.

BEN: Right.

RYAN: You start D1, your opponent goes F1.

BEN: You go either B1 or F2.

RYAN: Right.

We had the whole thing down pat by 10PM when we walked into the bar. As we strolled into the dimly lit drinking hole it felt like we were in slow motion--gunslingers walking into a saloon. I motioned with a flick of my wrist for the bartenders to take out the boards. However, all the bar girls turned to their right and locked their gaze on the center of the bar. Standing there was the sheriff--Trea.

Trea worked at Howie's for three years and I was told the other night that she was the best...ever. Trea looked at me and said,"You vs. Me. For a beer." I said, "Game on. But I go first." She agreed and Ryan and I looked at each other: D1 it would be.

Trea and I started to play and after about a minute she screamed out, "Damn you!"Apparently I had won the game. She saw it unfolding about fifteen moves ahead. It was unbelievable. She was right though, I won. One free Beer Lao for me. I was on cloud 9. With my new found strategy I would be drinking for free all night. Only one problem: No girls would play me anymore! I was blacklisted and they only wanted to "play for fun." Who plays for fun!

Ryan, not blacklisted, took on Trea's sister Annie. Annie agreed to play him 9:1 and let him start every game first. Ryan and Annie started to play and immediately Annie won five games. Ryan turned to me and said, "I guess the strategy is perfect." Well, perfect or not it ended up being pretty good. Ryan won the sixth game and then took four more beers from Annie. I got to reap half the benefits. Another successful night hustling the hustlers.

I'm leaving Cambodia in a few hours. It's been a great two weeks here but I'm ready to get back to 'Nam. Now I just need to find a bar in Ho Chi Minh City where they play Connect Four...and the girls don't know me.

REASON # 8,381,902 MY MOTHER IS SO GREAT

I just wanted to share quickly another reason my mother is amazing. My first day traveling -- way back on February 2nd -- I found a little purple post-it note in my backpack. Written on it were some inspirational words from my mother. It was cute and not only made me smile, but it made me miss her and I had only just left her side earlier that day. Well, a few days later I found another post it note with more kind words about me and my trip. Then another few days passed and BAM there was another note inside my backpack pocket.

I took the notes and placed them in my journal so I could see them every time I wrote. I also emailed mom and asked her how many notes she had placed in my luggage. She told me that she thought I had found them all already. Well, she lied to me, because I found another one the other day which I've since been keeping in my wallet with me at all times. As I always say, my mother is one of the kindest, sweetest, most thoughtful people on the planet. Love you, Mom!

More signs and overall oddness...

(PICTURE: A few days ago in Siem Reap this sign was on the back of my door. It's funny, albeit really really sad at the same time.)

Last night was one of my more bizarre experiences in Asia. For a week I have heard people talk about the bar girls at a local establishment called Howie's who are all Connect Four prodigies. As many of you know, I too have dabbled in Connect Four from time to time although it has been about thirteen or fourteen years since I dominated Mike Levy's basement. The only time I've played since getting my driver's license is when I smoked Alex 3-1 in college after he claimed to be unbeatable.

Trea, a former Howie's employee, told me that there was no way I could win a game at Howie's. She told me that what the girls there do is play guys for beers. You win, they buy you a beer. You lose, you buy them a beer. They make the majority of their money by earning a $1 for every beer a guy buys them. These girls were hyped as so good that they play 10:1. If you can win one game before they win ten, then you win.

So, last night Ryan and I headed over to Howie's. Virath, a Languagecorps alumni and now friend of the bar, told the bar girls I wanted my shot at them. Lana, a cute 22 year old who has been working the bar/Connect Four scene for three years, obliged and whipped out a Connect Four set. We began to play and after about two minutes Lana screamed out, "You cheat!" Apparently I had won. This girl was so good she was seeing about ten moves ahead. Well, she was right, I did win. However, my instincts told me this was a trap. She was clearly trying to hustle me for beers. That said, I walked right into it.

I told Lana I wanted to play 10:1 and she agreed. We started to play and I swear, Bobby Fischer took over her body. Within ten minutes she was up six games to none. Six to none! I buckled down and focused and with a little luck I somehow won the seventh game. If I said Lana was pissed it would be the understatement of the year. She was furious. She knocked over the board, bought me a Beer Lao and demanded a rematch at 7:1. I agreed but first sipped my beer as I taunted her...and watched her get madder and madder.

The first game of the next series couldn't have gone better...I WON AGAIN! Lana got even madder as she slammed another beer, which literally comes out of her wages, onto the bar. By this time a crowd gathered around us since Lana is considered the best player in the bar and never loses. So we played again...and I won again! Three beers. Lana called me a cheater again and backed away. Other bar girls were amazed and began to challenge me. I took on Annie, Trea's younger sister and one of the other top players, and beat her too! I was on fire. Before I knew it all the girls were on their cell phones texting away. I didn't find out till the next morning that they were writing Trea things like, "I hate you! Why did you send the foreigner to play us?!"and "You're crazy and cost me my night's wages!" I know this seems a little pompous of me to brag about but it was truly amazing on my behalf. Dare I say the greatest sporting night of my life. The thing is, these girls are SOOOO MUCH BETTER THAN ME at the game. I really was getting very lucky. In the end Lana calmed down and stepped back up to challenge me again. This time she completely kicked my ass seven games to none (although there was one draw in the middle and I had some drunk Norwegian girl yelling in my ear the whole time as to what to do until I turned to her and said, "Would you tell Bobby Fischer where to move his castle?"I thought the reference would work since he was living in Iceland, Norway's kind of close neighbor, when he died but I don't think she got it). I bought Lana her beer and gave her a few dollars tip since I really had cost her her night's wages.

If last night wasn't strange enough, today a bunch of people came up to me and said things to me about my performance at the bar. As I was leaving the house this evening to go to dinner the security guard said to me in broken English, "I hear you are quite clever." I'm a legend.

Angkor Wat

( PICTURE: Me climbing one of the temples at Angkor Wat in my favorite Bar Mitzvah t-shirt. Sorry for the sideways picture)

Our mini-bus arrived at the University at 1pm to drive us six hours to Siem Reap, the city located outside of Angkor Wat. By "mini-bus" I mean a Toyota Corolla. We were told that our transportation for the weekend would be a nice comfy bus, this was not the case. Crammed into the backseat were Ryan (5'11ish, @180lbs), Ryan #2 (5'10ish, 170lbs, wide swimmer shoulders) a former Languagcorps Alumni who had never taken the trip up north and myself (6' and 195 pounds of pure all-American muscle). Side by side by side our shoulders wouldn't actually fit into the backseat. We had to angle ourselves slightly in order to physically fit. So, why didn't one of us just sit in the front passenger seat? Well, that seat was taken by our "Guide" Trea. Trea, the Languagcorps rep in Cambodia was accompanying us on the trip and claimed the front seat--all 5', 90lbs of her. I thought she was joking when she took the seat but realized after an hour and a half and two spasms in my surgically repaired left shoulder that indeed this was no joke.

To make matters worse the drive was single handily the scariest transportation experience of my life. As I've mentioned a few times, drivers out here in Southeast Asia are a tad crazy. Well our hired driver was far and away the craziest f-ing driver in all of Cambodia. Not uncommon moves by this psychopath were:
a) Flying through the center of villages at 100 kilometers an hour as schools were being let out.
b) Passing cars, motorbikes, bicycles, etc. on two lane roads as cars zoomed towards us in the passing lane.
c) Treating cows on the road -- not an uncommon occurrence since we saw at least 150 cows crossing the road -- as nothing more than orange cones to swerve between.
d) Not flinching as he nearly ran over other stray animals such as dogs and chickens
e) Brushing up against motorbikes every few minutes
f) Accelerating at any chance he can get only to slam on his brakes at the last moment as he approached pot holes and speed bumps.

After five hours, we miraculously made it to Siem Reap in one piece. Siem Reap is not like Phnom Penh at all. For one, there are exponentially more foreigners there. It's a city based on tourism so every other building is a hotel or a guest house. The main bar street there, aptly named "Bar Street" caters to 90% foreigners...and I think the 10% of locals that hang there are mostly hookers.

Ryan, Ryan and I agreed in the car that we'd wake up early to see sunrise over Angkor Wat. Trea, our "guide", fought us with tooth and nail saying that she needed her sleep. Eventually we won out and she called our guide and told him of our plan. She told us to be ready at 5:30AM for our ride to the ancient temples. A few hours later, after talking to the driver, she corrected herself and told us we actually had to be ready at 4:30AM in order to see the sunrise. Hey, what's an hour difference? That night we went out for a drink or two and some dinner. Around ten Ryan #1 and I decided to pack it in so we'd be fresh in the morning. Trea and Ryan #2 decided they'd stay out for another drink or two.

CUT TO: 4:30AM.

Trea knocks on our door and says that she and Ryan #2 aren't going to see sunrise. It was a late night. They'd meet us later. Oh well, their loss. Ryan #1 and I packed our stuff and went outside to wait for the driver and the guide. After fifteen minutes neither was in site. We started to panic and Ryan went out past the front gate and found the driver waiting. We figured that perhaps only the driver was coming so we hopped in the car and took off. Now if the driver spoke any English the confusion probably would have stopped here...but he didn't.

Ryan and I entered the Angkor Wat park at around 5:10AM. Nobody else was in site. We were pointed by a ticket checker/security in the direction of the temple. We slowly started to make our way in the PITCH BLACK towards where we thought we should go. The only lights were burning incense around Buddhas and a distant light in front of us. Ryan and I fumbled through the darkness until we caught up with the light. It was a couple, or as I've now started to say regarding Ryan and I: "another couple", who were guiding themselves with the light from their cell phone. Long story short, Ryan and I stumbled/fumbled/tripped, etc. through this ancient holy structure having no idea what the hell we were doing. Turns out, the guide had said we'd leave at 5:30 since sunrise wasn't till 6:30ish. However, our wonderful "guide"told us what time the driver would be there. The guide showed up at 5:30AM at the hotel to find himself all alone. Having no guide in Angkor Wat is insane. Imagine being blindfolded and dropped off at the gates of Disney World and being told to find Space Mountain. It was basically the same.

Eventually after an hour of destroying a few priceless carvings and disturbing a group of chanting monks we saw some flashes in the distance. We made our way to the lights and came across hundreds of people, guides to their sides, set up for sunrise photos. We joined the group and snapped away. By the time the sun rose there were about 4,000 people snapping away photos. We overheard a guide say that this was "the best two days of the year" for sunrise because of the lunar calendar and that he had never seen so many tourists up so early. The sunrise though was covered in haze and highly disappointing. The true fun and adventure came with exploring in the dark.

Anyway, our guide, Trea and Ryan #2 eventually met up with us and we spent the whole day at the ruins. Well, the two Ryans and I spent the day at the ruins--Trea spent the day reading magazines in the car because "it was too hot out." The place is absolutely mind boggling. I could really elaborate on it but it would be easier for those who care to just wikipedia it or eventually look at the 150 photos I took.

Ryan #1 and I told Trea that we wanted to see sunset that evening. There is a mountain in the middle of Angkor Wat where crowds gather to see the sunset every evening. The postcard pictures I saw of it made it look spectacular. Trea said that the guide would take us but first we had to see something else outside of the park. We all climbed into the Toyota (FOUR OF US IN THE BACKSEAT NOW SINCE THE GUIDE WAS WITH US!) and drove out of the park. Turns out the site we needed to see which was about a half hour detour was a tourist shop where Trea needed to return some pants for her mother-in-law. Yeah, that's right, we were doing her errands.

We then dropped off Trea and Ryan #2 back at our guest house and were taken back to Angkor Wat for sunset. Ryan and I climbed to the top of the mountain where at least a thousand other tourists were waiting. We find a cool spot, legs dangling off the high temple, and waited for sunset. As we waited we met a cool American brother and sister and began to chat away with them. After about a half hour a policeman came up to us and said, "You must leave." "But what about sunset?" "You must leave." Turns out the sun was behind a wall of cloudy haze and there would be no sunset photos that evening. Bad sunrise, bad sunset. Oh well.

Finally, yesterday we took off to come back to PP. On the way back we stopped at an ancient temple that was quite spectacular. The temple was in the middle of the jungle and still in almost complete ruin with vegetation growing in every crack. In truth, this was a cooler site than Angkor Wat. There were probably a dozen tourists total and it felt almost undiscovered. We played around and explored the site for a little while before Trea told us we had to take off...she had a birthday party to go to in PP and didn't want to be late.

The Jinx Is On

Not more than two minutes after posting that last blog Ryan surfaced for our usual 7:40AM breakfast excursion. However, this morning Ryan looked at me and said, "I think I'm gonna pass on breakfast. I was up all night with some stomach issues." The jinx from the last posting is on. That said, I just got back from breakfast with Vi. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right?...but then again, the food could literally kill me (relax, Mom, I don't think it really can. Doctors Levy and Rudominer, any thoughts?).

Pushing My Luck In Cambodia

This is the stupidest thing I could possibly write but I'm going to write it anyway. In seven weeks of travel I have only taken Imodium once. Yes, once. And that one time was in Australia. So far in Asia, despite eating things which at least 50% of the time are a total mystery to me selected by the eeny-meeny-miny-moe method, I have had zero stomach problems. (My stomach just growled as I typed that...but i will continue).

I'm telling everyone this because it is a borderline miracle I have not gotten sick in Cambodia. On the miracle list, I'd put this right below the one canister of oil that lasted eight nights for the Maccabees. Since arriving in Phnom Penh, Ryan and I have developed a love of Cambodian street food. Now when I say street food, I don't mean some plush NYC style hot dog vendor wheeling and dealing the equivalent of frankfurters, knishes and pretzels. Street food here comes in multiple styles which can be broken down into the three meal pattern we've developed.

BREAKFAST: Ryan and I walk over to this corner "restaurant" where every morning we are happily greeted by the host who constantly speaks to us in French...which we shrug at just as much as we do at Cambodian. This restaurant is by far the highest rated place we go to. Basically it is a bunch of table and chars set up under an alcove with tarps and blankets covering about twenty five percent of the ceiling which extends onto the sidewalk. The food here is cooked on a cart with drinks being poured in an alley. Each morning we join a table of other breakfast goers and our spots are wiped off with a wash cloth that hasn't been cleaned since...well, it's probably never been cleaned. A tea cup of luke warm water is then placed in front of us which is used to disinfect the silverware which is sitting in a communal cup in the middle of the table. The process is quite simple: you take out the silverware, wipe it with a tissue from a tissue box, drop it into the luke warm water, let it sit for a minute, then re-wipe it with a new tissue. Clean as a whistle. I mean what germs could survive that, right? Our food is then brought to us which always contains some kind of marinated pork over rice with green tomatoes, cucumber and an egg (most of the time some dark black egg which I think has been pickled). We quickly devour the food using our spoon and fork like chopsticks. Spoon in the right hand, fork in the left. The fork pushes food onto the spoon and you shovel it into your mouth. This is how the locals do it. While eating it is best to ignore the flies that have taken a breather on your index finger....

LUNCH: Near the school is a side street where about a half dozen "restaurants" have set up. By restaurant I mean that people have set up tents on the sidewalk with folding tables, plastic chairs and little grills. This place would be closed in two seconds in the state for its unsanitary conditions. Literally feet from where we sit are piles of garbage. Underneath the tables are collections of bones and dirty tissues that prior patrons have spit out and thrown down since in Cambodian restaurants -- at least the ones we go to -- they only sweep once a day. At this restaurant the flies buzzing around you are the easy thing to deal with. The hard thing is the constant sensation that something has just run across your foot. Man, I need to stop wearing flip-flops.

DINNER: Every night we go to the Russian Market. It's a collection of food stalls with a variety of different Cambodian entrees -- few of which we can identify. Two nights ago we took the Languagecorps maid Vi (pronounced /wee/ since people can't say v's here) with us out to eat. She has since come to every meal with us since it appears she doesn't eat unless we feed her. Also, on a side note, she doesn't speak a lick of English which is really ironic since she lives in the house where people are trained to teach others to speak English. I literally taught her "cat", "father", "mother", "sister", and "brother" the other night. If you're asking yourself why I taught cat first it's because a dozen cats had gathered outside the house and I was ranting about how much I despise cats. Anyway, we took Vi with us and motioned for her to pick a stall. Big mistake. Seconds later we were sitting in front of what appeared to be a soup stall. However, when the food was promptly plopped in front of us it was just a bunch of noodles with a large chicken foot resting on top. And, uh, it was served cold.

In my head whenever I sit down at one of these restaurants I picture what it would be like if I was with my friends and family. In particular I often find myself thinking of Brett Goldstein and picture him saying, "Are you kidding me? I'm sorry but there's no f-ing way I'm eating here."

Anyway, I could go on for an hour and talk about the other health code violations that I embrace at every meal. However, I will just sum it up with this: There is an Australian couple taking the course with Ryan and I and they refuse to eat street food. They have been sticking to the Western Cuisine and when dipping into the local foods have gone to nice restaurants (by nice I mean $7 a meal). Well, yesterday, Kristen the Australian girl can strolling into class looking like death -- she had gotten food poisoning and had been puking all night. Lesson learned: it may appear dirty and disgusting but it's really like the frog prince. Kiss it and embrace it and you'll be rewarded....

Crap, my stomach just made some noise. I hope it was a growl and not a croaking parasite. Oh well, breakfast is in 46 minutes!

1 + 1 = 3

Happy Anniversary Mom & Dad!!! I was never very good at math (it made me sweat profusely from my armpits even more than usual) but I'm pretty sure that since my Mother (1) married my Father (1) and had Zev, Hannah and me (3) that 1 + 1 =3. This is the kind of math that will be taught in my classroom in just a few months. Good luck to the little Hanoians. 

Love you Mom and Dad!

The Killing Fields

Ryan and I took a trip out to the killing fields late Sunday afternoon. While the past six weeks have been nothing but fun and adventure, this excursion was extremely sobering. For those of you who don't know, nearly two million Cambodians were systematically murdered under the Pol Pot Khmer Rouge regime between 1975 and 1979.  Pol Pot = really really really bad guy. 

The actual site is lacking much to see, at least on the surface. There is The Bone Monument which houses over 8,000 skulls that have been unearthed from the mass graves. However, besides that, there are just holes in the ground with signs that say, "X amount of people buried here." Then there are other signs that say, "This is where the trucks came." "This is where the guards slept" etc. etc. However, the real stomach turner isn't the sign boards or holes in the ground but rather the walking paths that lead the tourists from one sign to the other. It didn't take long to notice that buried under the dirt were human bones. Bones were everywhere. It was literally impossible not to be walking on human remains. This is what will stick with me forever.

Back to more cheery blogs tomorrow...

I Fed A Wild Monkey Today!

(PICTURE: That's my hand in the foreground--enough said)

Cambodia, Our 51st State

(PICTURE: Ryan and me at the Royal Palace)

Did you know that Cambodia is part of America? Well, don't feel bad because I had no clue either. It became quickly apparent to me though that indeed Cambodia deserves a star on the old red, white and blue when I saw the first exchange of money--it was in American dollars. That's right, despite having its own currency, Cambodians deal in hard earned Uncle Sam currency. You pay in dollars and then are given dollars in return. However, for small change, instead of quarters, nickles and dimes you're given back Cambodian riel. This was and is totally weird to me. It became even weirder when Ryan, needing cash, went to the ATM and withdrew money in American dollars. Totally bizzare.

Today we're taking a tour of the city in a tuk-tuk, basically a horse and carriage where the horse is replaced by a motorbike. It's the standard tourist transportation around here. It also turns out that I'll be in Cambodia for 14 days, a bit longer than I originally though. On one hand this is really cool since when will I ever again spend fourteen days in Cambodia? However, on the other hand, I just got a taste for Vietnam and want more.

Viet-Freaking-Nam!

(PICTURE: Behind these guys were 1,000 more people on bikes. Better pictures next week when my camera battery isn't dead)

After six weeks of backpacking, and twenty years of having an unexplainable obsession with the country, I've finally stepped foot in Vietnam--and I already love it! I have a countless amount of first impressions which I'll try and quickly rattle off since I've got to go catch a bus to Cambodia (Yes, I'm already leaving the country). So, here's my quick list:

1. #1 isn't about the country but about my Vietnamese best friend Hien. She's amazing. She was waiting at the arrival exit with a 8x10 welcome sign for me. She choose a strong font with a nice backdrop shading which really showed she put some thought into it. We gave each other a big hug and I quickly realized that I was going to feel quite tall in this country--she came up to about the start of my totally awesome, perfectly crafted pectoral muscles. Hien told me that for now on she was going to walk on the sidewalk and I was going to walk on the street to give her a few more inches. However, there's no freaking way I'm walking on the street! Thus point #2...

2. Every person I told that I was going to Vietnam warned me that crossing the street was absolute madness. Jeff Aidekman, hearts player extraordinare, was the first person to give me the tip: "Don't hesitate."  Well, the warnings about the traffic were not exaggerated. In fact, you can't exaggerate what it is like to cross the street. There are literally hundreds of motorbikes flying down the street at you at any given time. They form what appears to be an impenetrable wall. But they aren't just on the street, sometimes they are flying at you on the sidewalk. And they aren't necessarily going in the right direction. I was on a one way street and was nearly run over by a family of four zooming against traffic. It's crazy! I mean IT IS CRAZY! I can't stop giggling every time I need to get from one side of the street to another. It must be some weird psychological defense that has come loose inside of me.  Ryan, the other student taking the TEFL course, said it best, "You have to throw away everything you were taught as a kid when crossing the street in order to make it here." He also added, "Just don't look when you cross the street and you'll be fine." 

3. The food is amazing. Hien has promised to look out for my demanding stomach and has taken the responsibility of making sure I'm well fed. We had lunch and dinner with Languagecorps students and alumni and each time the table was covered with produce that could not have been plucked from the ground more than twelve hours earlier, fish that must have been reeled in that day, and pork that...well, I can't vouch for the pork. 

4. I'm going to become a coffee drinker. Yup, you read that right. I'm into coffee now. I'm survived twenty four years without the brewed bean but times are changing. Hien introduced me to Vietnamese coffee and it is awesome. Basically they take condensed milk and combine it with pure coffee that was poured out of what appeared to be an old coke bottle. They put the whole thing over ice and then charge you a whopping thirty cents. It's the sweetest drink I've ever had and definitely packs a punch. After barely sleeping for a few days it gave me the energy I needed to make it through the afternoon. So in conclusion for #4, an addict has been born. 

5. Ryan and I visited the War Remnants Museum formerly known as the Museum of American War Crimes. The images and exhibition were extremely disturbing. I opened up a sign in book that had people's impressions in it. Most people complained that the museum was one-sided. I mean, what did they expect from a place formerly known as the Museum of American War Crimes. Even if it is one-sided that doesn't take away from the fact that our country did a lot of bad things in a war that shouldn't have been fought. Walking along the halls one couldn't help think how history was repeating itself in Iraq--how thousands upon thousand upon millions and millions of innocent civilians are affected by war; and specifically wars that should not have been fought. 

6. On a more light hearted note, after not seeing any bugs in China, I'm sitting here with at least three aunts crawling on me. 

7. It's hot as hell here. This means my Gold Bond rations may have to be increased. 

8. Hien is amazing. Did I mention that? She insisted on doing my laundry! 

9. There are lots of creepy old white guys, usually sporting mustaches, walking around this city with young Vietnamese girlfriends. 

10. Despite the American dollar taking a nose dive, this place is cheap! I only had about $20 coming in and told Hien I needed an ATM. She said, "oh, that should last you about two weeks." Even if it lasts me a week I figure I can now live here for four years without ever taking a job. Sorry, Mom and Dad. 

Finally, a very special thanks to my editor, Hannah. Thanks for posting all my blogs the last couple of weeks. Rest assured that there will be plenty of other times I'm gonna need you to post again. i.e. the next ten days. 

Okay, I have to run to get the bus. We're headed to Cambodia to meet up with the new students from Languagecorps Thailand and Cambodia. We're doing two weeks of teacher training and taking a three day field trip to Angkor Wat. It should all be amazing.

KING OF KONG

For the first time in my six weeks of traveling, I'm leaving a city feeling like there was more to see. Hong Kong had me running around from early morning to late at night every day. Yesterday, along with my new German buddy (first impressions aren't always right. Reiner turned out to be a pretty good guy and actually hadn't left me the morning of the hike. He had gone to do laundry and when he returned I had already left) and a new friend from Ireland named Olive. I had come up with an itinerary for the day that included going to Lantau Island to see the world's largest Buddha, then to take a stroll on a Buddhist wisdom path, eat lunch in a monastery, and then visit Tai-O, an old school fishing village.

When we got to Lantau we took the most traditional form of transportation -- a cable car to the Big Buddha. From quite a distance away we could see the resting bronze statue overlooking the mountains. The title didn't lie. He was big. He was huge. However, there is still one bigger Bud. Yup, you got it—Buddy August. I mean sure the Buddha probably weighs a few hundred more tons than my Dad and might be a few stories taller but when was the last time Buddha was elected to town council? Buddy August 1, Buddha 0.

The walk along the wisdom path taught me many important life lessons. Despite not being able to read Sanskrit, I felt that through osmosis knowledge was flooding into my brain. These were the pillars of the ancients. Words that have inspired monks to strive for purity and divinity their whole lifetimes. Sayings and mantras that couldn't be simply learned by opening a fortune cookie or flipping over a Snapple bottle. These were sayings passed down from generation to generation. Well, that's what I thought until I read the plaque that the wisdom path had been constructed three years ago. Still, I'm sure the rest of that is true. It's not like they built the path to attract tourists. It's not like they'd put aside their morals for modern commercialism. It's not like they'd open up a Starbucks at the base of the Big Buddha…Oh wait, they did. As amazing as the sites at the Big Buddha are, something just felt tainted knowing I could stroll two minutes away and order a tall iced latte.

As far as the lunch at the monastery--worst meal in China. The food was edible but I had envisioned monks feeding me, or at least chowing down next to me. Instead Olive, Reiner and I found ourselves sitting in a cafeteria next door to the monastery being served by a woman who was definitely in the early stages of a severe cold.

Throughout the day Reiner kept referring to me as "Mr. Tour Guide" and "Big Brother." I think the Big Brother reference wasn't Orwellian but rather that I was looking after him and Olive with my well-structured itinerary. After lunch we headed to Tai-O, which was worth the side trip. The small town consists of a street market and houses built on stilts above the water. Olive and I walked around as Reiner took a twenty-five minute boat ride to go see dolphins—a trip that proved fruitless. After strolling the streets and buying some funnel-cake like street food we headed back to our hostel.

As I said in the opening paragraph, there were a lot of things I didn't get to do in Hong Kong. For one, I didn't do the #1 tourist stop, which is a tram ride up to "the peak." It's like it sounds, a high point where you can get a three hundred and sixty degree view of the city. I wanted to take the trip but kept pushing it off. Last night as I rushed through my final Chinese meal I debated on taking the last tram up…but then started to fall asleep at dinner. As they say during Passover, "Next year at the peak."

That said, Hong Kong is amazing but definitely not one of my favorite cities I've visited on this trip. Right now I'm in the mindset of looking for things that are totally different than what I'm used to. Hong Kong feels western. It feels like NYC with a lot more neon signs.

Today I'm flying into Vietnam for just twenty-four hours before headed to Cambodia for ten days. Here I come 'Nam!!!

The Revenge of the Dragon

I blogged too soon yesterday. Dragon's Back Hike didn't kill me but Dragon Club nearly did. Last night following a traditional Chinese meal of Spanish tapas, I went to this ritzy club with Della and her friends. Immediately upon seeing the name of the club (and having been stopped by the doorman for being a dude) I knew bad things were in store. After sneaking into the club (AKA walking really fast behind two hot girls as they were allowed in) Della's friend Dave and I began to check out the place and the clientele. We couldn't have been in the club for more than twenty minutes when all of a sudden my eyes started to burn and I began to sneeze like I've never sneezed before. My throat started to itch and my eyes began to water. Dave looked at me like I was crazy as I began to head towards the exit for fresh air. Seconds later the whole club began to cough, sneeze and dart for the exit. It was a mad rush onto the streets of Hong Kong as probably four hundred bewildered and confused people spilled out, drinks in hand, into the night traffic. It turns out, someone had released pepper spray into the club. I knew who did it right away -- it was the dragon.

The only thought running through my head was, "this is how Alex must have felt all those times." Alex, despite his love of baseball, isn't always great at reading signs. Aidekman told me about "all those times Alex was pepper sprayed at camp." I didn't really believe him until the first time Alex ran out of a Syracuse bar, tear ducks dripping. We used to have a saying in college, "the night's not over till Alex gets sprayed." Here's a picture of the time Alex was sprayed by a bridesmaid at Glenn's wedding...




















(Editor's Note: If you were as confused by the last paragraph as I was, but don't have Ben's email address because you're one of my friends reading this, allow me to assist. Turns out Ben was lazy and didn't bring out his camera today so rather than leave his faithful readers in a pictureless lurch, he thought he'd post this pic of Alex along with an elaborate lie framed as a "joke." So to refresh, Alex is not a handsy drunk who gets peppersprayed. Usually he just gets a knee to the groin.)

The Dragon's Back

Steve Song's friend Della lives in Hong Kong and emailed me a list of must see/do things in the city. One of the things on the list was called "The Dragon Back Hike" which she noted was called "the best urban hike in Asia" by TIME magazine. Well, I like hikes and although I'm partial to NEWSWEEK, I decided to give it a go today. I mentioned the hike to this weirdo German in my hostel room (Why is he weird? Well, when I walked in yesterday I said "How are you doing?" and he looked blankly at me, said nothing, and went back to folding his socks. Five minutes later he turned to me and said, "I hate this fucking city.") and he did some internet research and wrote down on a piece of paper how to find the hike. Well this morning he and I awoke bright and early around 6:50. He got up first and waved good morning and went to the bathroom. When he came back I went to the bathroom. When I came back he was gone. I waited thirty minutes and he still was gone. I thought this was weird but then again I've been referring to him in both this email and my mind as "the weirdo German." The strange thing was that the paper he wrote the directions to the hike was still on the counter in our room. I copied down the directions and put it into my pocket. It occurred to me right away that copying direction from a person who doesn't speak English as his first language or well at all wasn't a good idea. I tried to get into the hostel computer room but it was locked until 9AM. Instead of waiting two hours I decided to just wing it with the badly translated, chicken scratch directions. Would this come back to bite me in the butt?....Can you say cliffhanger?

After catching the subway and changing to a bus I felt really confidant. I asked the bus driver, "Do you know where the dragon's back hike starts?" He said he did and would tell me when to get off. I was in the midst of reading on the top deck of the bus when I heard the bus driver bang and yell, "Dragon's Back!" I wasn't ready to get off yet and gathered up my stuff and in the melee left my black LA hat. This is good news for all of you who hated that hat. I thanked the bus driver and jumped off the bus. As soon as the bus pulled away I looked at my surroundings--I was in the middle of nowhere. There was a foot path which I started to walk on and came to a sign, the one pictured above. Immediately I realized I might have had some bad judgement on doing this hike. Lets examine the sign and my situation at the time:

1. "Always go hiking with the company of others." I WAS ALONE.

2. "Plan your route carefully before setting out." I HAD NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING OR WHERE I WAS STARTING.

3. "Always bring a map and advice your family and friends of where you are going and when you will be coming back." NO MAP. NO FAMILY OR FRIENDS HAD BEEN ADVISED.

4. "To avoid mosquito bites, wear light colored long sleeve shirts, trousers not shorts, wear insect repellent." I HAD ON A DARK GREEN LONG-SLEEVED SHIRT, SHORTS AND NO REPELLENT.

5. "Wear a hat and use sunscreen." LEFT MY HAT ON THE BUS. LEFT MY SUNSCREEN IN AUSTRALIA.

6. "...Drink plenty of water." I HAD A LARGE BOTTLE OF WATER...WHICH I DRANK HALF OF DURING THE NIGHT.

7. "Avoid bringing a large amount of cash and valuable belongings. Minimize the number of credit and ATM cards you carry." I HAD ALL OF MY MONEY, CREDIT CARDS AND ATM CARDS ON ME.

#7 I thought was kind of weird until I read #8.

8. "If get robbed, remain calm and avoid confronting the robbers." WHAT?! IF I GET ROBBED! WHAT THE HELL! I DON'T WANT TO GET ROBBED! I JUST WANT TO HIKE THE FREAKING DRAGON'S BACK.

To make me even more paranoid the next note was about being robbed too. Where the hell was I?

And the icing on the cake was one of the final warning: "Bring your mobile phone." I HAD NO PHONE.

The smart thing in this case would have been to stay on the road and wait for the next bus going back to town. However, Ben August doesn't always play the smart card (i.e. Breaking up with Brooke Rose in 4th Grade, Not investing in plastics in the 80s, etc. etc.)

I began the hike and was completely paranoid. Within about ten minutes I heard footsteps behind me and saw this guy quickly running up the trail. Who the hell was he? Why did he want to rob me? I came up with a quick game plan and moved all my big bills, credit cards and ATM cards into my shirt pocket. He would never look their, right? I then also grabbed my tripod out of my bag as a self-defense mechanism. His 12" knife would have nothing on me since my tripod could extend to 42". I picked up my pace and came to a fork in the road. I took the sign for Dragon's Back. Sure enough he went the other way. You'd think this was a good sign but I was sure he was radioing his friends up ahead that the idiot tourist was coming...

Once on top of the Dragon's Back I realized why this was such a highly touted hike. The hike gives you a 360 degree view of the ocean and different bays. It was spectacular despite a slight haze over the whole area. I took out my camera and snapped some pictures. I was disappointed with how they were turning out but told myself it didn't matter anyway since I was probably gonna get mugged up ahead and wouldn't have my camera anymore anyway.

I kept hiking and hiking and passed a few other suspicious character: an elderly couple who appeared to be going for a casual hike but in my mind were ready to rough up some tourist punk, a mountain biker who was suspiciously blowing up his tire with a bike pump, and a kid wearing a European soccer jersey. Finally, I came to another fork in the road. One way led back to the road where the bus would pick me up and other way led to Big Wave Bay. I debated on what to do when I saw a building up ahead. It seemed strange to me that a building was in the middle of the woods so I went for a closer inspection. In case my paranoia wasn't high enough it soon exponentially increased. The building was the HONG KONG CORRECTIONAL FACILITY. Yes, a freaking prison! A normal person at this point would definitely hit the main road and get the hell out of dodge. But as my dad can attest, I'm not normal. I headed for Big Wave Bay.

Long story short, I made it out okay and stumbled into some really cool beach towns. Unfortunately I hadn't brought my speedos or towel but was craving a dip in the water. I debated on going in in my undies but was quickly deterred by a sign that read, "Stay away from shark nets." For once today I made a good decision and stayed on land....

Window Seat

(PICTURE: A Lady Who Asked Me To Take Her Picture The Other Day)

I'm sitting in seat 43A on Dragonair flight 895 to Hong Kong. I'm not sure, but I'd put pretty good money on it that the woman next to me is the Chinese Fran Drescher. Her voice could not be more annoying and she has literally not stopped talking for two hours to her friends across the aisle. Actually that isn't totally true. She's taken a few breaks from her ramblings to spit into the vomit bag. This may seem slightly vile but in comparison to most people in China it's quite civil. The mentality here is that the sidewalks are one giant communal Kleenex, free to spit on. Even worse than the constant irritating chatter is that her elbows are out of control and she has nailed me in the chest at least eight time—including seconds after I finally dozed off earlier.

Okay, she's now reading my computer screen so lets just hope she doesn't understand English. Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it….no reaction. Good, I can keep typing. Not awkward at all.

Getting to the Shanghai Airport this morning was an adventure. I jumped on the subway at 7AM since I was told that it would not be crowded. This was simply not true. Not even close to being true. I managed to squeeze onto the train with my giant twenty two kilogram bag. I got plenty of looks from the morning commuters for taking up valuable metro space. However, I didn't feel too bad because right next to me was a guy with a bike. But he had prime real estate up against a wall. I was stuck smack in the middle of everyone. Eventually I got to the maglev train – the world's fastest train – and took an eight minute ride to the airport. I checked in for my flight and then made a few calls with my Chinese calling card. I talked with Mom (Dad was at a Town Council meeting), Grandma (I talked with Nanny last week on her birthday) and Zev. Unfortunately my sister/sub-in-blogger screened her call and didn't pick up. Apparently she doesn't like calls from China.

Well, I'll be landing in Hong Kong soon. I'm excited to see the city (wait, is it or is it not its own country? I'm confused on what happened when Britain left in '97. I'd look this up on wikipedia but it's one of the blocked sites in China) but I'm getting very antsy to finally get to Vietnam. Every day I email with my Vietnamese best friend Hien (her name means crocodile in Vietnamese but from what I can tell she's pretty harmless) who works at the school I'll be getting TEFL certified through. Hien is picking me up at the airport on Friday and taking me to lunch with some of her coworkers. Then that night we're going to the Languagecorps graduation dinner for the past class. The point is, Vietnam is on the horizon and I couldn't be more excited…I just have to remember not to overlook Hong Kong.

(Editor's Note: I didn't screen the call, I just didn't hear my phone. But in Ben's defense if I had heard my phone I probably would have screened it.)

Good Timing

(PICTURE: Eva and me on The Bund)

About a week before I left the states I received a text message from one of my favorite fellow Orange Alumni--Lene Dahl. Without a doubt Lene was the smartest person I met at Syracuse. Technically, even if she wasn't, she came across that way with her slight Dutch accent. For anyone who has traveled in Europe, it's a fact that Europeans just sound smarter than us. I'd trust a five year old with a British accent over my own brother any day of the week in a trivia contest. Lene's text was something like, "What are you up to?" I naturally replied, "Moving to Vietnam in a couple days." After a few back and forth texts, I told Lene about my travel plans and she mentioned that her cousin lived in Shanghai and her sister was living in Cambodia. Always one for meeting a local whenever I travel (AKA mooching off a stranger), I got their emails and introduced myself. The next morning I received an email back from Lene's cousin Eva. Before I knew it I had an invitation to sleep in her extra bedroom--an opportunity I could never turn down.

To use the lexicon of a seventh grade girl, Eva has been the "hostest with the mostest." I told Eva that I cared about two things: eating and eating some more. Eva assured me this was her speciality and she has proven it meal after meal since my arrival. Eva is half Chinese and half Dutch (Just like Lene) and speaks fluent Cantonese. After eleven days of traveling with hand gestures and a vocabulary consisting of "hello" and "thank you" it has been amazing to be shown around by someone who speaks the language and looks like a local. I immediately knew things were going to be different in Shanghai when we walked up to a local street vendor selling buns. Eva asked for one pork and one vegetable bun. I took out 10RMB to pay. Eva told me it was just 2RMB. 2RMB!!! That's like thirty cents. This same culinary purchase anywhere else during my travels would have cost me at least 10RMB--the foreigner price.

Shanghai isn't a city with much to see. This is a place of business and not a place of sights. There are a few museums and major walking streets but nothing that jumps out at you and says, "this is China." Well except for the millions of Chinese people and all the signs. But besides that I feel like I'm just in New York's China Town...if China Town grew exponentially in size and had no seeming driving laws. That said, I'm loving it here. Eva and I have literally just walked around the city and eaten at every turn. We ate wonderful Cantonese food the first night I was here with the highlight being my first taste of jellyfish. Eva said that many foreigners don't like the crunchiness of jellyfish--but I'm not a typical foreigner. I devoured half a plate that was supposed to be split between four of us. Whoops.

The other thing I've been doing a lot of in Shanghai is playing backgammon. Between Dad and I playing two days before I left Jersey, and having played four hours on the Cathay Pacific flight to Hong Kong, I consider myself one of the greatest backgammon players in the world. After letting Eva win our first two games and having her brag about how great she was in backgammon, I introduced the betting dice. Five games later she owed me 39 beers.

Today I'm off to meet some friends I met at The Great Wall who happen to be in Shanghai today. After that I'm headed to the fabric district to pick up two shirts I had made (I decided wearing the same green safari shirt was starting to look disgusting in all my pictures...so I had a black and white one made just like it). Following that I'll be headed to a local massage parlor to get a rub down by a blind man who I was told "works magic." It's tough work traveling and I deserve a little R&R today.

Not Enough Minutes in the Day

You've got to give it to Mao, he doesn't let a little thing like death stand in the way of keeping a busy schedule. After sleeping for only a few hours the other night I woke up bright and early to be at the front of the line to see Mao in all his glory. However, when I got to the Chairman Mao Zedong Memorial Mausoleum I was told by a guard, "No Chairman today." Despite a large sign in front of the building displaying his regular office hours (Tuesday-Sunday 8:15 till 12AM (This calls for double parenthesis: On one of the most important monuments in China they have a typing error since the monument closes at noon and not at midnight)) Mao wasn't available. I just shrugged it off as another unexplainable thing in China. I can't fault Mao though. He's got the Olympics coming up, an emerging economy, a billion plus people to feed, etc. How he ever has office hours I just don't know. Man, I just want to pinch his cheeks!

The rest of the day I went around the city taking photos. Right before I left the USA I replaced my Prius with a Canon Rebel XTi. I made the promise to myself that along my trip I wouldn't buy any souvenirs but would just take tons of amazing pictures and put them into a coffee book for myself upon returning to the states. In my last week in America I began to practice with the camera with tutorial help by my buddy Sam (Vanderbilt '00, USC '05, On The Lot '07). Sam has an amazing photographic eye and taught me the basics of some advanced techniques-blurring moving objects, long shutter speeds at night, etc. Well Sam's tips are starting to pay off because I've got about forty shots that I absolutely love.

The funny thing about taking photographs in China is that people will approach you and try and look into your viewfinder to see what you're taking pictures of. Countless times I've stepped aside so people can check out what I'm about to shoot. I also have no doubt that a few of those times I may have been approached by undercover policemen since I've been setting up my tripod in some highly guarded places and gotten looks from more than one soldier.

A few funny things that happened on my photo day trip:

1. I was approached by multiple Asian tourists who asked to take pictures with me. I was in the Forbidden City and people would rather photograph me then some ancient chair sat in by the Emperor. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I've still got it!

2. At lunchtime my meal was interrupted by loud laughing next to me. I turned to look and saw an old man and his son pointing at me and mocking how I was using my chopsticks. I've been using chopsticks for at least a decade and never had a problem and was doing quite fine eating my Peking duck and dumplings. However, the guys were making faces and gestures as if I was using a fork upside down.

3. I started to think that I managed to escape all scam artists in town when "My English name is Richard" came up to me and invited me to some quiet place to have tea and look at art. It is the exact scam written about in Lonely Planet and told to me by other tourists. Basically they bring you into a back room and threaten you unless you pay them a bunch of money. So Richard's English name was appropriate--he was a dick.

4. I went to the YongHeGong Lama Temple and started snapping away photos. There was a Tibetan Prayer wheel that people were approaching and spinning. I thought it could make for a really cool action photo with the wheel blurring and the people's arms moving too. So I set up my tripod and began to take pictures. After a minute this old man approached me and asked me to take his picture. I took a few shots for him and then showed him the images in my LCD screen. He started to say something to me very frantically and I had no idea what he wanted. I gestured that if he wrote down his address I'd send him the photos. He then grabbed my camera and started pulling at the image. A woman came over who spoke decent English and translated--the man wanted the photo from my camera. He was literally trying to pull the image out of my Canon. After about fifteen minutes of explanation the woman said I should email her the pictures and she would send them to the man and his wife. I took a bunch more photos for the man and he thanked me vigorously. He bowed to me about thirty times which felt very odd considering I was standing feet from a gigantic Buddha.

5. One of the Tibetan monks was wearing a Rolex.

6. After letting my stomach recover for days by managing not to have any spicy food, I bought what looked like a spring roll/burrito from an outdoor food stand. I bit into the food and within seconds felt my mouth start to tingle. This didn't stop me from having another bite...and another. Before I knew it I was dripping wet and felt like someone had just shoved a blow torch into my mouth. I quickly scurried through a large crowd to find some help. The help came in the form of two golden arches as I frantically purchased and stuffed a McDonald's ice cream into my furnace/mouth. The yogurt swirl was temporary relief and got me through the worst of it but for about two hours after my lips were burning hot.

Off to Shanghai!!!

Chinese Proverb: "Not been on the Great Wall, not a great man"

As I walked out of the hostel shower at 6:12AM yesterday morning the overnight front desk girl came frantically running up to me: "Your driver is here! Your driver is here!" I tried to tell her that I was told to be downstairs at 6:30AM but somewhere around "I" she seemed confused. I hurried together my stuff and got downstairs by 6:20. Moments later I was racing through Beijing in a small red station wagon narrowly escaping death at seemingly every block. There are a plethora of bad drivers out here but mine seemed to be the worst of the worst--he may have even failed his driving test more times than Bier. We eventually pulled up to another hotel and picked up another tourist. The guy got in the car and said hello. He was American. I asked where he was from and he said "California." "Where in California?" "Los Angeles." "Where in Los Angeles?" "Santa Monica." "Where in Santa Monica?" "Fifth and Ocean Park." I smiled at him and said, "I live eight blocks from you." It's strange how you can meet a neighbor slightly outside of your neighborhood.

Jose, my fellow Santa Monican, and I got dropped off at a larger bus and joined about thirty other English speaking trekkers for our voyage to The Great Wall. There are lots of different trips to the wall and I specifically asked for the one that was the least touristy. I was told that the best one was a hike from Jinshanling to Simatai. Unlike many other times in China, this turned out to be great advice--the day was fantastic. Besides our bus, there were only a few scattered other hikers on the wall. Well, that's not exactly true. There was a small army of locals who met us at the gate entrance and walked the 10Ks with us hoping to sell us bookmarks and postcards. I was slightly hurt because everyone on my bus literally had a chaperone except for me. I took our tour guides advice and made no eye contact and spoke no english to the mobile vendors. Those who did, were immediately latched onto and escorted for four hours.

The great thing about this trip was that the wall wasn't in perfect shape. Unlike the main tourist spots which have been repaired, this section was often crumbling and slightly treacherous. I can vouch for this first hand since I had a slight slip onto my butt while walking down some ancient steps. Luckily years of playing hockey have added a protective layer of meat to my tush, so all was well. Now, as far as the proverb goes, I don't think it is necessary true. I know plenty of great men who haven't hiked the great wall. That said, I'm just a little bit greater than them.

Open Wide!

I will never ever complain about going to the dentist. There are about thirty things wrong with this picture. I'll point out the two most obvious things:

1. I took this from the street. Ten feet from the chair.

2. There is a propane tank in the front left of "the office."

Feel free to point out some other things.

Very Special Friend Discount

There is an old saying: "Guilin has the most beautiful scenery in China, but Yangsuo's is the unmatched in Guilin." Yeah, I know that doesn't really make sense and it's probably because I stole it from Yunzen Lieu's online book report (he also spelled the English translation wrong--it should be Yangshou. If I was his teacher I'd fail him). Lieu went on to say, "Last year, In my Li River cruise trip from Guilin to Yangshuo, Gorgeous Karst peaks give me surprises at each bend of the limpid river under the blue sky,and then I came to Yangshuo city that is a great place for hikes and cycling excursions, I took a close-up exploration to the country villages, One thing surprised me on the bamboo raft trip along Yulonghe River. We didn't expect the scenery to be such a paradise."

Unfortunately my book report is somewhat different than Lieu's. I came to Guilin because my roommate Erica told me that it was her favorite place in China when she came here a decade ago. Erica is half Chinese so I should have only half listened to her. In theory Guilin is probably one of the prettiest places in the world. The limestone formations jut out of the landscape at every turn. Boom, there's a giant mountain. Boom, there's another. They were everywhere with no rhyme or reason--kind of like pimples on a teenager. In every picture online and in books the city is blanketed with blue skies and clouds seemingly kissing the mountain tops. However, those pictures were all probably taken before the industrial boom hit the region. Now, much like other places in China, pollution dominates the scenery.

But I didn't have my biggest problem with the landscape. Without a doubt, my biggest issue was with the people. The city thrives on tourism and with that comes thousands of people trying to make a buck on you any way possible. It seems that there isn't one honest person in the whole town. Well, there was one honest person. Some very sweet lady came up to me and said, "You are very beautiful. I give you sex for free." Besides her though I felt like I needed to keep my hand on my wallet at all times. The best example I could give of this is my encounter with a local named Kevin. Kevin, who appeared to be about forty, approached me on the street:

Kevin: Hi, how are you?

Ben: Good thanks.

Kevin: Where you from?

Ben: USA.

Kevin: Oh, USA! I studied in Seattle. Very rainy. Saw space needle.

Ben: Cool.

I then walked with Kevin all the way back to my hostel waiting for some kind of scam. None came.

Kevin: Oh, you stay at the hostel?

Ben: Yeah.

Kevin: I own this supermarket. (the market was right next door). You want to come in for tea?

Ben: Sure. (Thinking: I like tea and aren't you supposed to have tea in China?)

Over tea Kevin explained to me that he's a drawing teacher at the University. His wife runs the supermarket and he collects good teas. He showed me his collection which he was very proud of. He explained the different types of teas and then casually threw in:

Kevin: This one costs 65 Yuan but I'll give it to you for 50 Yuan because you are my very special friend.

I thought that was very nice of the Kevmeister. I mean we just became friends but he was ready to give me the family and friend discount. I thought to myself, this is a nice guy and I'm going to stay at a friend's house in Shanghai so I'll buy some tea. Kevin was excited and got out a tea canister. It was quite large. And well, tea can be quite expensive. I told him to give me the junior size and he said that was fine. He filled me up, weighted it and asked for his 150 Yuan or roughly $21. I paid the man and enjoyed some more tea. After he took me over to his professor's gallery to see some of his work. Again I was offered the special rate, "This is a 300% discount from what we charge the Sheraton." Shit, the Sheraton has a Kevin original? I guess I need a Kevin original too!

Okay, I didn't really buy art. I said I was on a budget and took off. Later in the night I walked by the market and Kevin called me in, "Want more tea?" I went in and drank with him for about an hour and a half ready to be scammed in a new way. At this point I was really just doing it for the blog. It's a write-off (Bob, seriously can I write off this whole trip if someone pays to advertise on my blog?). Well, low and behold Kevin didn't charge me a thing and said it was his pleasure to serve me. He then asked me to come meet him the next night to play billiards. I was game until I met some other travelers in my hostel who bragged about, "Meeting a friendly local who is a drawing teacher at the University and hooked us up with really great tea." I showed them my picture of Kevin and they said it wasn't their local connection. Apparently everyone in the neighborhood had the same story. Long story short, the next night I skipped hanging out with Kev-o. I saw him from around the corner waiting in front of his store but I thought I'd play it safe and go around the long way to my hostel. I had read an article about drinking with locals and how they had a scam to party with you and then you get stuck with a huge bill at the bar. Perhaps this was Kevin's plan. The thing is, and this is what makes me sad, perhaps Kevin was an honest guy and everyone else around was dishonest. It just made me question everyone's motives and that's not what I should be doing while traveling.

I've heard that there are a 1001 scams in Vietnam so I'm slightly concerned. However, I think this is a good lesson for me going forward.

Anyway, as far as the rest of Guilin. I took a river cruise to Yangshuo. It's the one thing you have to do when in Guilin. Well, that is what the tour boats say. The cruise was fine. There was lots of pretty scenery but it got old after an hour...and there were three more hours left after that. I met some cool people on the trip and got to see another city which is always a positive. I also started practicing more with my camera. I took this awesome photo of a guy riding his bike. By the end of my trip I'm going to be Ansel Freaking Adams.

By the way, can someone do some research for me: Could a Chinese citizen really study abroad about twenty years ago in the states? I know it's really hard for them to get a Visa to come to the USA and would think it would have been really hard back in the 80s...you know with Springsteen and all.

China: The Land Of Yiddish

There are endless examples of signs with bad English translations. My favorite two have been the "SHIT Store" which sold groceries (sadly I didn't have my camera) and a sign outside a public bathroom that read, "Outstanding Public Lavatory." Inside it was not so outstanding. However, perhaps the oddest sign I've seen yet is this one. Check out Rule #5. Grandma, did you used to work part time in China?

(click to enlarge image)

Humanitarian Award #2

As many of you know, the biggest accomplishment of my life was winning the Mt. Pleasant Elementary School Humanitarian Award in 1990. Well, the Guangzhou City Council in their infinite wisdom has awarded me my second humanitarian award. This lady in the video nominated me.

WTTC RECAP

The best word to describe the world team table tennis championships: domination. The Chinese Men and Women's team destroyed everyone. Apparently the women's team hasn't lost since 1993. That's a comparable run to the Livingston Lightning during the late 80s and 90s. The Men's team has the top three players in the world and made quick work of the Koreans in the finals. The energy of the stadium wasn't nearly as exciting as I had pictured it in my head. I think the Chinese expected to win and thus were very casual about rooting. The best story though of the competition didn't happen at the competition. Look at the picture above. That picture was taken right after I picked up our tickets at the Emma Ticketmaster box office. At the end of that giant square is a giant stadium with a billboard that reads, "The 49th World Table Tennis Championships." The billboard is enormous. What you can't see are three things:

1. There is another huge stadium to my left.

2. There is another huge stadium to my right.

3. Down the block was my hotel that I booked because it boasted about being near the Tianhe Sports Center.

So, here's the story: As I mentioned in entry #1 I like to be on time. So Mark and I planned our day on arriving twenty minutes early to the arena. We got there and approached the stadium--it was locked. We asked a local and he pointed us at one of the other stadiums. We walked to the next stadium and were stopped by a police officer as we tried to enter. We showed him our tickets and he pointed at the third stadium. At the third stadium we were laughed at by two girls who called over their boss who spoke a few words of English. He looked at our ticket and sent us back to the first stadium and gestured that it was open on the other side. We walked back to the first stadium. The doors were still locked. We asked another local who pointed at stadium #2. At stadium number two were were pointed again to stadium number three. In essence the locals were playing ping pong with us. We went back to the box office and asked the person working there where to go. His response was interesting, "Oh, you need to take a taxi to get there. Very far." Well, he was right. It was very far. About twenty five minutes far.

Let me just give this analogy. Imagine ordering Springsteen tickets from Ticketmaster. You're told to pick them up at the Madison Square Garden Box Office. You get to Madison Square Garden and the marquee has a gigantic picture of the boss and says, "Springsteen Tonight!!!"...only to find out that the game is in the boondocks--Nassau Coliseum.