6 Visas, 1 Change of Clothes, 0 Sense of Direction

Russia

2008-10-01T11:18:00.000-07:00

After barely making it out of Tajikistan, we arrived in Moscow at 1 in the morning. We took a train into town and got out right in the center of the city to try to find our hostel. After walking around a bit, we found what we believed to be the location of our hostel. However, there was no sign. We asked around, and were told that it was definitely the right address. The only problem? The building in which the hostel was housed had been completely gutted for renovation.

Plan B. We walked further into the center of town, through beautiful Red Square, to our second choice, Hotel Rossiya, which was described as a massive concrete block that was the official hotel for foreigners during the Soviet era. Again, we found what I believed to be the right location. This time, the building hadn't been gutted. Instead, it had been completely demolished. There was nothing but a blank spot on the ground, right in the middle of Moscow.

Plan C. It was 2:30 in the morning. The trains had stopped running 90 minutes prior. There were no more cabs to be seen. Thankfully, a local man stopped and asked us if we needed help. We had him take us to the local 5-star hotel, a Hyatt with rooms going for $1000 a night. Needless to say, we didn't book a room there. We sprung for something a little more down-market. That would be our last comfortable night for a while, so it was totally worth it. The next day, we hung out in Red Square again and then hopped an overnight train to St. Pete's. It's an 8-hour train and costs $30 each for a bunk in steerage.

St. Petersburg is beautiful, very European, and very young. There seemed to be a ton of university students walking around, as well as a number of cadets from the local naval academy, set up by Peter the Great. There are beautiful canals and rivers and consequently vistas all over the place. Right in the middle of town, off the Nevsky Prospekt (one of the world's grandest avenues), lies the Winter Palace, which houses the Hermitage, one of the great museums of the world.

We decided to devote a significant part of the day to the Hermitage, which houses impressive collections of art representing all the major European periods. After three hours, our stomachs growling and our tired doggies barking, we finally gave up, right as we were in the middle of the gorgeous French art of the 19th century. However, it was as good a time as any. We were worn down after carrying our 25/35 pound packs (respectively) all over Russia. It was an effort, but we eventually managed to complete a loop around the city that took us to a beautiful vista of the Peter and Paul fortress.

We were relieved to finally get back on the train after a long day on our feet. The overnight car was less comfortable this time--the berths are only about 2 feet wide and 5' 10" long, so I was forced to lie on my side with half my body hanging off the edge, but thankfully I didn't fall out of my bunk during the night.

Tajikistan, Part II

2008-10-01T06:51:00.001-07:00

After spending a beautiful day at Iskanderkul, Middy, Jessica, and I hopped in our driver's old Mercedes and headed towards Dushanbe via "the pass," as opposed to the new tunnel. The significance of this distinction is that the pass affords amazing views of the mountains, while the tunnel is faster, but apparently scary, as there are sections that are flooded with water. I was happy the tunnel was closed that day. The views from the pass were amazing.

After a long day of driving, we reached the capital of this little country. Dushanbe is a tiny town, with little to report.

We had a nice dip in the dirty little lake to the north of town, somewhat eery as it was otherwise empty despite numerous abandoned day-beds and swimming/bathing facilities. In addition to just chilling out at Middy and Andrew's house, we made several visits to the local market, where we picked up provisions for our upcoming hiking trip.

It was a blast watching Middy rock his Tajik and swagger around the vast marketplace chatting up his friends and haggling over a handful of apricots here and almonds there.

We left burdened with about six 20 lb. shopping bags, enough to feed us all for a couple weeks. The real key to our getting out of Dushanbe and into the mountains, however, was processing our paperwork. We had to register with the authorities as aliens, and we needed permits to enter the Pamir region, where we intended to go hiking. Once we had registered and obtained our permits, we were free to go.

We loaded up a car with Middy and Andrew's boats and headed off at about 5am.

It was another long day of driving. We bumped and bounced over terrible roads for 14 hours, and were happy to see the Pamir Lodge looming ahead of us when we arrived in Khorog. Having sat in the front for the entire ride, watching the earth fall away from me to the right as our driver skidded around hairpin turns up and down mountainsides for hours, I was happy to be alive. As focused as he was, our driver failed to inspire much confidence in me in light of the several carcasses of rusted-out vehicles I saw lying in the raging river hundreds of feet below us.

The Pamir Lodge was a gem in the mountains. A successful Pakistani doctor built himself a beautiful home (in the middle of NOWHERE) in the Pamirs, and decided to add on a little lodge with five small rooms and a prayer room for the caretakers.

The best part? Each room was only $5 a night, and included morning and evening tea and sweets. At this point in our trip, any comfortable, indoor bed is a big deal.

After a great night at the Pamir Lodge, we headed off into the mountains. It was another long day in the car, but the difference was, this ride was steeply uphill. The elevation climb was noticeable. Our ears were popping and heads started to feel funny. Along the way, we had a fun moment when we stopped for another passenger and a couple of the Tajiks in the car got out to race against the schoolkids in the street. A little later, we stopped again for tea along the way.

Apparently this is an integral part of the typical shared cab ride.

Finally, after a few hours in the van when we were in the middle of a long dusty valley with no side roads, Middy tapped the driver on the shoulder and said, presumably, in Tajik, that we were there. A small sign on the side of the road said something about a UN water project, and a dirt road ran off to the left. We parted ways with the other passengers and headed off.

As was typical in this tiny country, Middy realized that he had taught one of the passenger's daughters in a language program. Of course, the man told Middy that meant he had to come visit the man as a guest.

We headed off up the dirt road. 3 hours later, we were out of the valley and approaching an alpine lake as the sun set. We set up camp in the foundation of an old building to provide a little shelter from the cold wind.

Middy cooked up the most delicious instant noodles I've ever had, and we snuggled up for the night. The next morning we were roused by a herd of cows eating the grass right around our little palace.

That day we spent trekking farther into the mountains, not gaining much elevation, but progressing well into the mountains, in search of a couple hot springs and some archaeological ruins marked on our map.

After a little wandering around, we managed to spot a yurt sitting out in the middle of nowhere, about a mile off. Andrew and I walked over to it while Jessica and Middy relaxed. 20 minutes later, we were chatting with a cute little Kyrgyz woman and her two adorable sons, one of whom was wearing a snoopy sweatshirt, which was so perfectly out of place in the mountains. The nice woman directed to the nearest hot spring and we were off.

The hot spring was more like a luke warm spring in a cinderblock hut, but still welcome considering the absolutely freezing stream we had to ford to get there. The sulfuric smell gave it character, and the dead frogs floating around in the water made it a little more exciting. After bathing for as long as we could stand it, we went to find the Caravan Sari, or ancient roadside inn along the Silk Road. The Caravan Sari, a mud-covered stone hut, was still relatively intact.

It was easy to imagine travellers sitting down on day-beds and enjoying tea just like we still do today.

Alongside the Caravan Sari, we found an ancient burial ground.

Each tomb was a shallow trench covered by flat stones and surrounded by a low mud-covered stone wall. Jessica took the opportunity to poke her head in with a flashlight and see what she could find, Indiana Jones-style. Middy, Andrew, and I had altitude headaches and decided we would try to conserve energy as much as possible.

The next night we spent sleeping next to a huge alpine lake.

The wind was strong enough to make it pretty cool in the afternoon, but it died down that evening, and Middy and Andrew's expert tarp engineering kept us cozier than we would have been otherwise, although with subzero temperatures, it was still pretty cold in our borrowed sleeping bags.

A couple days later, we were on our way back to Dushanbe, but the adventure was just beginning.

We spent another night at the Pamir Lodge and woke up early to get in line at the local airport (they don't take reservations). We got out passports in to hold our places in line first thing when they opened. Unfortunately, 15 people with bigger bribes or better connections got in front of us and we missed the first flight. They told us we would definitely make it on the second flight though, so we breathed easy and turned down a ride in a nice UN-owned Toyota Landcruiser. However, after waiting around the airport for a few hours, we found out that "they couldn't find a pilot" to bring the plane back, so we were back to square one.

After haggling with a few drivers in the local marketplace, Middy got us in an SUV heading back to Dushanbe just in time for our flight to Moscow. Of course, "just in time" doesn't exist in Tajikistan, so needless to say we didn't actually make it back in time for our flight.

Granted, we were driving overnight, but the driver certainly took his liberties. He stopped several times to pray, and several times to nap, and before you knew it, we were several hours late. Thankfully, Middy's friend Marydean met us at home and shepherded us onto the next plane for only $8 in change fees.

Update - More to Come!

2008-09-13T23:43:00.000-07:00

Jessica and I left India happy that she had apparently been cured of a bad stomach bug by the hotel doctor, who also cares for the local king of Jaipur (who owns the hotel). We had a late-night/very early morning arrival into Uzbekistan, where we were surprised not to be searched in any way. Our pre-arranged ride did not show, so we accepted a ride from a friendly local, who then got us a special rate at a nice hotel, which we took full advantage of for the 8 hours we were there.

Tashkent was relatively uneventful. The most exciting thing for me was trying to get money to buy drinking water. After visiting two broken atm's, I found a friendly local who put me in a cab to the bank, where I experienced some good Soviet-style bureaucracy. It was over an hour by the time I got back to the hotel with some bottles of water.

After exploring Tashkent a bit on foot and on their cute trolley system, we boarded a train to Samarkand, famous city on the Silk Road. The incredibly uncomfortable seats were outweighed by the friendly locals who sat practically on my lap, one after another, trying to practice their meager English. One of them was going through the usual list of "what's your name? Where are you from? What do you do?" when we came to an interesting bit of information. I told him I was a lawyer. He nodded and then pointed to himself and made the international symbol for machine-gun with his hands, and making the rat-a-tat noise with his mouth, sprayed some pretend bullets around the train car. It was about this time that Jessica noticed the pistol tucked in his sock.

We also met a nice cardiologist on the train, and left our battered copy of The Economist with him to practice his English skills. He was one of the only Uzbeks we ran into who did not have a massive row of gold teeth--a grill, in the parlance of young people. All in all, the people were extremely nice and friendly, in stark contrast to the Uzbek regime currently in power, which boils ethnic minorities alive.

After a short car ride to the border, the adventure really began. We had no trouble with the Uzbek border on the way out, but as we walked across the no-man's land towards the Tajik border, we sensed something was amiss. The rifle-toting man at the gate started making signs with his hands for us to scram. We walked up to him nonetheless and tried to present our passports. I was hoping we could at least talk to a higher-up, when Jessica said "Wait--here comes someone!" I looked up to see a tall, scruffy man in a red hat and monochrome two-piece pajama-suit sauntering up to us. I looked back to the guard for a second, thinking that this guy didn't look very official, when I realized it was our friend Middy, who was greeting us at the border!

I had been expecting to see Middy, as promised, sitting under a tree in a pajama-suit with a good book and a melon (more on melons later). Seeing him walking around greasing the wheels within the Tajik border post was even better. However, even Middy, with his gift of gab and well-cultivated diplomatic skills, could not get us through the border that day, no matter how many games of backgammon he lost to the undercover KGB officers watching the border post.

Apparently, the President was in town for a local festival, so everything was shut down in the immediate vicinity. That meant that no one, especially a couple of shady-looking American tourists, was getting through this border post. In the end, we spent a night (about 22 hours total) sleeping in a field adjacent to the patch of asphalt separating Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. From the time we reached the border at noon until about 8 that evening, we were both pretty worried about being stuck out in the open with no sleeping gear and minimal food/water. We rationed carefully. We even scavenged some dried-out corn from the adjacent field and started munching on that. However, in the end, Middy took extremely good care of us, providing us with enough grapes and bread and water, and obtaining blankets and more food from the guards and other locals for us to spend the night relatively comfortably.

Tajikistan has the friendliest people I have ever encountered. A strong part of their culture is to be exceedingly welcome to "guests," which means giving ANY foreigner the royal treatment--the best food, the best rooms in a house, the best blankets to sleep under in a field in no-man's land, as the case may be. Needless to say, we were well taken care of, and actually too warm under all our blankets in the cool Tajik night. We eventually managed to walk right through the border post with negligible hassle the next morning.

We took a car to the local town of Penjikent and rested, and then headed into the mountains for a night at a beautiful alpine lake called Iskanderkul, a favorite getaway of Alexander the Great.

Agra – Ranthambhore

2008-09-04T00:31:00.001-07:00

On our way out of Agra, our guide Deepak took us to what is called “The Abandoned City” because it was built, occupied, and deserted within fifteen years by Akbar “The Great,” the emperor who cemented Mughal (Muslim) rule in India. Akbar was famous not just for redundancy (“Akbar” is Arabic for “is great”). He also accepted all religions, abolishing the tax on non-Muslims and taking one wife from each of the major religions.

This is a cool room where Akbar sat and talked to leaders from all religions, who were charged with telling Akbar the best thing about their respective religions, and to prove it, a tall order to be sure.

This is Akbar’s huge bed. His wives and concubines kept him busy.

This is a cool performance space (literally) where Akbar hung out and listened to music, which was supposedly improved by being played over water, which also cooled the air and scented it with rose petals.

This was the separate palace for Akbar’s Hindu wife, who received special treatment because she bore him a son.

This section of our India trip was upgraded to an all-inclusive resort, and Jai (Jay) waits on us hand and foot, starting by filling the pool upon our arrival and bringing us beers and tomato-and-cheese sandwiches with the crusts cut off. We took full advantage of the pool.

Agra

2008-09-04T00:30:00.000-07:00

We began the day with a visit to the Taj Mahal, monument to the enduring passion between Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan and his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. It really is magnificent in person, particularly because the intricate details of the craftsmenship – stone inlays, etc. – are evident when you get up close.

Next we went to Agra Fort, where Emperor Shah Jahan was imprisoned under house arrest by his son Aurangzeb, just across the river from the Taj, which Shah Jahan could see from his window.

After Agra Fort, we finally prevailed upon our Guide Deepak to take us to a real Indian market street in the heart of the city, where the car could not pass. It took us all day for Jessica to convince him that we really wanted to see the real deal. He tried everything to dissuade us, including telling us that a Western-style mall was an Indian market. We refused to go into the mall and told him we wanted to go to the place where it is “so crowded and busy,” as he had described it in an attempt to turn us off, which backfired. Apparently most tourists are either (1) overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle, or (2) judgmental about how Indians, including Deepak, live.

After wearing out our tour guide, we took a nap and then went out to see a “6D” movie about India, which involved 3D glasses, a moving chair, scents, and lots of sudden blasts of mist in the face. It was surprisingly good and informative, if a bit short at 25 minutes, and damp. Afterwards, we went over to Deepak’s “Indian Market” (mall) for some Indian eats among some of the better-heeled locals. We were quite the spectacle, as usual, though less so than in the middle of the city.

New Delhi, Old Delhi

2008-09-03T23:32:00.000-07:00

We started our day with a visit to the place where Ghandi was cremated: Raj Ghat. It is a beautiful and serene monument to a great man.

The Lotus Temple is a gorgeous Bahá'í House of Worship, which welcomes all religions for prayer, but not photography, although I was able to snap a partial shot of the ceiling—the inside was the best part, I had to try!

Qutub Minar, a stone tower signifying Muslim domination over the region, was built in 1206, with subsequent additions by later Emperors.

We drove by the Red Fort, built in 1639 when Shah Jahan shifted his capital from Agra to Delhi.

We swung by the President’s House and the houses of parliament and major Indian government ministries.

Just across the way (actually a mile away) lies India Gate, which the Brits built to thank the Indians for sacrificing 80,000 of their boys in the first World War.

We enjoyed seeing – and being – a spectacle at a Sikh temple.

Beyond the monuments and such that we visited, it is worth noting that Delhi itself is quite an experience. Driving is incredible, as lanes are ignored and drivers constantly honk to warn of their presence, pedestrians and farm animals are all about, and everyone just lives in the streets. There are no sidewalks to speak of, and if they were, they would quickly be turned into an additional lane. Where there is any space beside the road, people have set up tent-like structures in which they live and work, selling everything from bananas to jewelry to barbershop services, complete with barber’s chairs and mirrors, right in the road.

Indian Safari

2008-09-03T21:52:00.000-07:00

Our day began with a knock at the door from Jai, our new favorite person. After our coffee and biscuits at 5:30 AM, we headed off for a safari in our Suzuki jeep. We had a 40-minute drive through town to the Tiger Park, where we were met by our guide.

After passing a Hindu temple, we headed off into the bush, over some very rough terrain. We saw antelope, Indian gazelle, spotted deer, a peacock, a (HUGE) buzzard, some other funny-looking bird, some monkeys, Indian tarantulas (crabs), frogs, and lots of butterflies and insects.

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…But we had just as much fun taking pictures of all the animals and people in town.

We Heart HK

2008-08-29T23:40:00.000-07:00

While Beijing is like seeing the future rushing towards you, being in Hong Kong is like you're already in the future. We just had love at first sight here, from the ease at which one gets from the airport to the city center on the super-fast, super-clean, super-modern train system, to the amazing flurry of activity and humanity around you all the time. And to top it all off, HK is surrounded by gorgeous lush green hills and water.

Our first activity in HK was to go to the fish, bird, and flower markets.

Mmmm, Crunchy!

2008-08-29T23:35:00.000-07:00

On our last night in Beijing, we finally made it to the night market downtown, where one can find the craziest foods imaginable, all skewered and ready to be boiled in oil. There's crickets, snake, starfish, and even dog. I chose a mixed bag of chicken hearts, lamb kidneys, big fat bugs, and scorpions. While that ordering may seem to reflect the strangeness of the food, it actually ranks the food from worst to best for me.

The scorpion was absolutely delicious: crunchy, salty, and even a little sweet. For those of you who love fried shrimp heads, such as at Japanese restaurants, it was much like that.

Last Day in Beijing

2008-08-29T23:22:00.000-07:00

On our last day in Beijing, we woke up early and headed over to the Summer Palace, the Emperors' summer residence, which is just outside the city center, but 10 degrees cooler, and much prettier, in our estimation, than the Forbidden City. It's essentially a small lake (several miles around) with numerous islands connected by beautiful stone bridges, and a temple complex set on a hill overlooking it all.

Part of what made the Summer Palace so much better for us was that we had a chance to hang out with all the Chinese enjoying the park first thing in the morning. In fact, we were able to join in with some of their activities, specifically, ribbon-twirling, hacky-sacking, kite-flying, and group dance aerobics. They were all so friendly and happy to have us join in that it was a blast.

After the Summer Palace, we hopped a cab over to another "must see," the Lama Temple. This is the biggest and best Bhuddist temple in Beijing. It was actually several temples in one complex, with increasingly large Bhuddas in each of the separate buildings. The largest of these is over 80 feet tall, and apparently made out of a single tree! It's so tall that you can barely see the head when you crane your neck to peer up four stories.

After the Lama Temple, we went back to Tianenmen Square to really do it this time instead of a walk-by. Unfortunately, we arrived after the Mao Zedong Museum had closed for the day at noon, so we contented ourselves by strolling around the immense public square (largest in the world) and then having tea at a tea-house overlooking Tianenmen.

Then, in our search for the Beijing Underground Museum, which is apparently a bunch of tunnels built during the Soviet era, we ended up wandering around the Hutong for a couple hours (apparently the museum is no longer there). We made at least two friends, one of whom liked Jessica, and tried to get her to come home with him, and the other of whom took a liking to me and walked with us all the way back to Tianenmen, commenting incessantly about how tall I am.

Tailors, Art, and Chinese lessons

2008-08-26T05:35:00.000-07:00

We spent this morning at a tailor, where we worked with the lovely Holly, a very skillful veteran of the trade. We picked out fabrics and designed a number of suits based on magazine pictures. She asked us to come back tomorrow night for a final adjustment, and that's it! Not only does the dollar go far when you're getting tailoring done in Beijing, but we think we got "special price for you:" $150 for a full suit and $12 for a dress shirt.

After lunch, we headed over to an amazing enclave of artists tucked away into old factories, some of which are still working. Apparently, the artists moved into these industrial spaces in the late '90's in secret, in order to showcase their work. It was since discovered, but because the eyes of the world have been on Beijing since they won the bid for the Olympics, the authorities have so far allowed the artists to remain where they are. Unfortunately, the most moving installations that clearly reflect government suppression are accompanied by write-ups that seem obviously government-censured in their blandness. However, all in all, it was a fantastic experience not only to get a sense of art in China, but also to walk through these amazing converted spaces, which were often just as interesting as the art itself.

After winding our way through dozens of galleries tucked into former factories small and large, we sat in a pleasant open courtyard for a beer, blended fruit drink, and banana cake. It started with one translation request, and quickly became an in-depth lesson in Mandarin that lasted for almost an hour, with the full attention of both waitresses and the surrounding patrons, giggling all the time. Our pitiful attempts at pronunciation were clearly hilarious, and in trying to practice with our ad-hoc teachers, we often found ourselves saying something completely other than what we had intended, as indicated by laughs from the peanut gallery and utter confusion on the part of our instructors.

Tomorrow is our last full day in Beijing and we have a packed schedule, starting with 6:30 Tai Chi in the Summer Palace, the Emperor's former summer residence, where despite being just a few kilometers out of town, it is 10 degrees cooler than the Forbidden City.

Butts, Bellies, & Backpacks

2008-08-26T05:22:00.001-07:00

A few interesting little observations:

1) Diapers don't appear to exist in Beijing. If a baby is wearing pants at all, they're wearing chaps--with nothing underneath. This isn't an homage to Western style, babies are just potty-trained from such an early age that they skip the whole diaper thing. According to our friend who lives here and has two babies, the missing material allows a baby and his/her parents to focus on their bits constantly, so they can learn to control their bathroom maneuvers. I wonder what Freud would have to say about that. The downside is that the children tend to pop a squat wherever they feel like it, which can be right in front of you on the sidewalk.

2) Chinese men have a funny habit of pulling their shirts up, exposing their bellies, when it heats up outside. Just sort of funny seeing little pot-bellies poking out everywhere in the middle of the city.

3) Jessica and I have gotten a couple of flattering comments from other travellers we've run into to the effect that we are the lightest packers they've ever seen. Interestingly, each of us thinks we would feel comfortable with even less, especially if we hadn't climbed Mt. Fuji, which had such low temperatures, requiring us to pack winter gear. Our quick-dry gear is so great that we can see how one outfit would be sufficient. In fact, Jessica only has one pair of pants/shorts.

Great Wall

2008-08-26T05:06:00.000-07:00

Eschewing a more expensive tour group, on the advice of some nice Dutchmen, we hired a cab to take us to a less touristy part of the the Great Wall for about $80. Although more than two hours out of town, Simatai was certainly as dramatic as the guidebooks said, and well worth it. We opted to hike up to the Wall instead of taking the gondola. The Wall itself is a challenge to walk, with an incline of 70 degrees in some areas, high narrow steps, and uneven footing. However, it was no match for our Tevas.

It was both a physical and emotional journey, knowing that the Wall was built by thousands if not millions of prisoners of war. The ridge line on which the Wall was built is so steep that our progress was slow, let alone the workers who brought those millions of bricks up there.

After runs up several long flights of steps and a knee-pounding descent, we were happy to ride the gondola back down. To our surprise, our cab driver had stuck around for about 3.5 hours to take us back to Beijing, per our agreement (he probably just couldn't find another fare). When we finally got back to the city, however, he didn't want to honor the deal we'd made at the outset, and tried to charge us the metered fare, which was about twice as much. Needless to say, there was a lot of talking past each other, to put it politely. I found the word for "50" in my guidebook and repeated it to him again and again in an attempt to get my change, to no avail, so we just got out and ate the $7. Interesting note: while $7 isn't worth fighting a cabbie to me, that's almost a decent daily living wage, so our driver did pretty well for himself.

Emerging from one of the convenient public bathrooms on the main drag near our hostel, I was happily surprised to see the familiar red, white, and blue spiraling sign of a barbershop. In a word, that was the best $1.50 haircut I've ever gotten.

Forbidden Olympics

2008-08-25T18:43:00.000-07:00

On our second day of trying to get into the Olympics, we decided to go straight for the motherload--the Bird's Nest and the Water Cube in the middle of the Olympic village, where most of the events were going on on the last day. We walked around amid throngs of Chinese waiting to go to their events, quietly saying "tickets?" to everyone, and getting mainly quizzical looks and curious smiles in return. We finally ran into a guy asking $900 for a pair of tickets to handball, which was on the other side of the city, but started in just a few minutes. As neither Jessica nor I could really identify what the sport of handball is, we decided to pass on that proposition. We settled instead for a few pictures of the Bird's Nest and the Water Cube from across the freeway that separated the coveted ticket-holders from the envious.

After getting our fill walking around in the sweltering heat outside the Olympic Village, we decided to head to the next hot spot on our list--the Forbidden City. We took the madly crowded subway to the center of town and began exploring this enormous city within a city. After walking around the outer ring of the Forbidden City, we stopped for lunch at a noodle place right through a security checkpoint of some kind. Upon our return to the area we had come from before lunch, the same security guard that we had gesticulated at about the restaurant attempted to charge us $15 each to pass back through the gate. We of course refused and attempted to indicate that we had just been there. After several back and forths, she became frustrated that she wasn't going to win that one, grabbed our tickets, and ripped them to shreds. Shrugging our shoulders, we chalked that one up to the whole "saving face" thing and continued on our way.

We next bought tickets to the actual inner core of the Forbidden City, where we had cool GPS-enabled audio tour guides that spoke to us in a soothing Chinese-inflected British English about extremely detailed ceremonies that happened in the distant past in each of the various temples within the Forbidden City. Neither of us could keep up with all of the detail, so we would continue walking on, effectively cutting our nice tour guide off mid-sentence again and again.

At one point we came upon a very athletic Jamaican-appearing fellow surrounded by a shrieking throng of Chinese teens taking his picture as he calmly typed into his blackberry. I snapped a quick picture thinking he might be Usain Bolt, Asafa Powell, or another of the famous Jamaicans (a later comparison of his picture to those in the newspaper proved that he was neither Bolt nor Powell). All of a sudden a Chinese teen spotted us and asked to take a picture. Now we were the center of attention. Apparently they thought we were athletes and asked to pose with us. We happily obliged.

After walking around the *enormous* Forbidden City, we hopped a cab over to a massage place to work out the kinks. Cabs are great because the original Hutong, or warren of alleyways, that Beijing is made up of, is overlaid with wide streets at approximately half mile intervals. In other words, it's not a walking city. And cabs are usually about $2. Our massages were a guilt-free $20 each, and involved soaking our tired doggies in a wooden barrel full of hot slimy water. After an hour of relaxation, we decided to retire early.

Lost in translation:
1 pair of sunglasses--fell into public hole in the ground (toilet)

The USB drive at our internet cafe doesn't work, so we'll be posting pictures when we get to Hong Kong.

Beijing Dock (Peking Duck)

2008-08-23T08:27:00.001-07:00

In a few words, Beijing is big, shiny, and new. Add the word "very" before each of those descriptors, and you're a little closer to capturing the essence of this immense megalopolis and its palpable energy. I'm sure you're sick of hearing things like "China is exploding right now," and "you can see the future in Beijing," but the fact is, it's true. I live in New York, and Beijing is just plain impressive. The buildings are big, modern, and all brand new.

The airport here is the biggest thing I've ever seen. It goes on for miles, and half of it isn't even open yet. The roads, subway, and other infrastructure are all brand new. And the best part is that everything costs about a buck fiddy. Walking into a mall here is unlike anything I've ever seen anywhere...bright and shiny, it *looks* like capitalism. The funny part is, however, that you walk into a big electronics store, and it's still just 5 stories of lots of individual vendors hawking their wares. No price tags, it's still just good old-fashioned bargaining here.

We even had an encounter with our first con-artist of the trip today. He claimed to be an "English language volunteer" for the store, but he took us through the first four stories of the electronics department store-bazaar to an eery fifth floor twilight zone, where he sat us down at a little table while the guy who ostensibly worked there went to retrieve batteries for our cameras. At that point, our little friend mentioned that he had a buddy who was really into foreign currency and would be really interested in exchanging "just a little bit" with us. Jessica promptly cut off the conversation and dragged my naive self out of there before I could inquire further as to his friend's particular interests. Thank God at least one of us is a born cynic.

Faux pas of the day: asking for rice with Jessica's Kung Pau chicken. Whoops.

Lost in translation:
3 socks
1 pair of pants
1 pair of hiking boots
1 pair of sunglasses
2 camera batteries

After replacing our camera batteries, we were off up the street to try to get into the Games. We had chosen the table tennis venue (events are spread out all over the city), and hoped for the best. When we got there, we found that the ticket office was closed, unsurprisingly, so we asked a volunteer Olympics worker where we might find tickets, hoping she might have some insight. She suggested buying tickets "from one of the men on the bridge," which turned out to mean scalpers standing on a pedestrian bridge directly behind us. Apparently scalping is an expected practice.

In short, a ticket with face value of $20 was going for $400, so we passed on table tennis.

Fuji-san

2008-08-21T20:40:00.001-07:00

So, after starting out our day with a little sushi at 6:30 (we woke up at 4:30) and having a quick mid-morning nap, we headed out of Shinjuku station on a Highway Express Bus bound for Yamanaguchi (aka "Gateway Fujiyama").

From there we hopped a local bus to drive about halfway up Fuji-san, where we began our climb at the 5th Station at about 4 in the afternoon.

The going seemed a little too easy initially, as the path was headed downhill, but the hoards of haggard hikers shuffling towards us indicated that we were on the right track (no pun intended).

Our goal was to hike about 4 hours, to Station 8, where we had a reservation at the Fujisan Hotel ("hotel" is being used loosely in this case). However, the rain gods had other plans in store for us.

Not just rain, but hail--pea-sized hail, and buckets of it, as evidenced by Jessica's extensive bruising (pictures of her pock-marked bruising forthcoming). Our hail-hike took a little over an hour, and the abuse only came to an end when friendly Aki offered us a bed in his mountain hut at the 7th Station at about 6 pm.

After a quick, delicious meal of Japanese curry and rice, we hit the sack for a few hours, our drenched gear hanging over the little fireplace to dry while the other hikers sat around and cured our longjohns with cigarette smoke.

About 5 (sleepless for Jessica, restful for me) hours later, we woke up to tackle the rest of the hike, hoping to make it to the summit by sunrise at 4:15 am. We almost made it. However, our plan had been derailed by our little hail misadventure, and it was not to be. Despite doggedly dragging ourselves up the mountain for 3 hours, we were almost an hour short of making to the top for the first rays of light peaking over the horizon. No matter, it was beautiful from 100 meters below.

Thanks to Aki, despite running out of money after paying for our night's accommodations, we had Bento box "lunches" (at 5 in the morning) of some canned mystery meat and rice to eat on the summit, which had a tiny village of sorts catering to the exhausted hikers who made it that far. I was warned of this "bazaar" on the summit, but I actually found it rather charming in a weird Japanese way. Of course there is a store on the top of the tallest mountain in Japan. It's Japan.

If my sore legs and the faces of those around me were any indication, Fuji is a bigger undertaking than most realize when they start up it. In short, it's no joke. I felt like someone climbing Everest, taking one baby step every couple seconds. But at least I was experiencing some sort of hiker's high for much of the climb. Jessica didn't fare as well. She was unable to speak at one point, but she pushed through to the finish in impressive fashion. I think she's still recovering. She's currently passed out so hard that she didn't hear me knocking on the door of our room and I had to get the lady from the front desk let me back in.

Last night we both crashed in our hostel in Tokyo. Without thinking too clearly about what we were doing, we put all of our clothes in the washing machine and then promptly decided it was a good time to go to dinner...I ended up wearing my long underwear bottoms and my raincoat, and Jessica wore a tank top and a skirt made of a sheet wrapped around her waist.

The batteries in both of our cameras broke within a few hours of each other, so all my pics of Fuji are on the iPhone. You'll just have to wait.

Tsukiji Fish Market

2008-08-21T20:19:00.000-07:00

Tsukiji is the biggest fish market in the world, and unlike some superlatives, there is no doubt in the visitor's mind that this is the case.

It is several football fields large, and filled with hundreds of little stalls hawking every weird undersea creature you've never seen before.

But before you even enter the huge hanger-style enclosure, there is an amazing intersection that is strangely reminiscent of Star Korndor or whatever one of those far-flung Star Wars planets is called, with all of these funny three-wheeled carts zipping around, which have the engine and front wheel housed in the same cylindrical compartment. Somehow these guys driving their carts loaded with fish manage not to hit each other--or any tourists--and eat ice cream cones or smoke cigarettes at the same time.

Tsukiji being Tsukiji, the best sushi in the world can be had right around the corner at 6:30 in the morning. But we just got off the plane, so who cares what time it is!

Lift Off...

2008-08-18T22:08:00.000-07:00

We are sitting here in our apartment in New York City at 1 in the morning, half-watching the 3-meter Olympic diving competition and quivering with excitement. In 7 hours, we'll be in a cab on the way to the airport, and 3 hours after that, we'll be on our way to Tokyo on the big metal bird! We can't wait!

We're making some last-minute preparations, such as reserving the overnight trains that will take us between Moscow and St. Pete's and will function as transport, accommodation, and a great chance to experience some real old-time Russian body odor, as we'll be sharing our cabin with another couple of people (it's 2nd class--that's how we roll).

Using my Spanish-language international calling card to make reservations on the other side of the globe is always interesting. The worst part isn't not speaking the language when someone picks up, it's typing in 46 numbers every time you call, just to find out that the line's busy. Makes you appreciate speed dial. On my iPhone, it's really dumbed down. I can practically scroll through pictures of my friends and family and then just press the picture, like a chimp pressing the screen to get a piece of banana.

Time to upload the first pictures of our trip. These are from Maine, where we reacquainted ourselves with our American roots before setting off for the land of the rising sun.