Japan - Kyoto

Japan - Kyoto - October 6-7, 2008

While much of this trip has been on my own, I rarely felt truly alone until I arrived in Kyoto. I think I skipped many of Tokyo's "Lost In Translation" moments because I had quickly met four knowledgeable and open-minded people to spend my time with. Even without having seen the movie that so many Americans now associate with Japan, I was doing pretty well.

But in Kyoto, I found myself in a place where English was less prominent than 99% of my other destinations, and my very tight time schedule meant I'd have to compromise on some of the 'get to know you' steps I often take (like chatting with travellers in a hostel). Instead, I booked a small private room in a Japanese guest house and hoped it would all fall into place.

Alone In Kyoto

I began to doubt my choices immediately. My Shinkansen (bullet train) ticket was extremely expensive, but that was expected and I had convinced myself it was ok since my Japan flights were included in my RTW ticket. I further convinced myself with the classic traveller's dual arguments of:

1. I may not get another chance to see Kyoto (a place several of my trusted friends have raved about)
2. the Shinkansen is a required part of the modern-Japanese experience (along with a trip to the anime shop)

I arrived in Kyoto feeling once again like I was in the Amazing Race.  16 hours to "do" Kyoto!  Go! But I thought myself very clever by stopping in at the Tourist Information counter before I rushed out to make sure I knew where I was going. The friendly woman gave me a map and directed me to a specific bus. I wasn't quite sure what to do when I got off, but with two maps and written English directions I figured I'd find my way. Sadly, I was wrong.

The electronic signs on the bus made finding the right bus stop was no problem (pay on departure...a real show of trust that not many cultures could allow), but I entered the wrong block of alleys of old Japanese houses and found myself crisscrossing with no hope in sight. I asked a few locals, and their smiles and blank looks made me realize I wasn't going to get too far. Written Japanese directions would have been the key.  Darn. Finally, after getting further directions from a Best Western hotel, I realized where I had gone wrong and at 3:30pm I stumbled upon my small guesthouse.

The owner was a lovely man, thrilled with his hometown of Kyoto, and I did my best to not cause offense by rushing him through the lengthy check-in procedure.  But 30 minutes later he was still making his way through his well-practiced English speech on the wonders of Kyoto. So I told him that I was headed back to Tokyo and then Hong Kong in the morning and I really only had time to see Kyoto for the rest of the day. His face dropped, his eyes rolled, and my previous hopes that "maybe he'll be happy at least to have rented the room for the night" vanished. I was in one of Japan's most treasured cities, a place where the average tourist stays for a week and leaves with barely a glimpse of the 2000 temples and shrines, and no capitalist rationalization could hide his disappointment. Nonetheless, he helped me select 3 places to rush off to before they closed, rented me a bicycle (with a basket!), and I headed off in hopes I wouldn't get lost again.

Things were looking up. I cruised along on my bicycle thinking, "this is the way to be a tourist!" and peddled my way 20 minutes across town to my first destination, with the obligatory quick stop at 7/11 for dumplings, the most Japanese of fast food and a staple of my diet there.

Kyoto is the most spectacular bicycling city I've ever seen. Every main street is wide with bike lanes and plenty of space for pedestrians as well. The smaller streets don't allow cars, so you can bump along the cobbled streets without much worry.  Even with a slight wobble due to my oversized body on an undersized bike, I felt very safe. Not something I'd ordinarily do on my own in a city I'd never seen, but Kyoto is special.

So I basically followed the most rudimentary Wikitravel route starting with Kiyomizu-dera, the massive temple complex with a beautiful view of Kyoto, where apparently local Japanese kids some to take their class picture...






to the Kodaiji temple, where I finally felt at peace in this hectic day amongst delicately designed temples and bamboo forests...

and the Ryozen Kannon, the 24m statue honoring Japanese soldiers who died in World War II (not my particularly favorite thing to honor, but it is quite impressive...and on the way)....


passing through Gion to see geishas and have dinner (not together, though I think you can do that).

My Lonely Planet guidebook didn't treat me that well as I wandered the streets looking for restaurants that weren't shockingly expensive.  I finally looked down a side street and, with a "now or never" feeling, and ducked into this doorway...

The meal turned out to be the pinnacle of my Japanese experience.  I slid the door open to the gentle murmuring of a restaurant just beyond sight and, seeing all the shoes neatly lined up, took mine off.  Noticing they were twice the size of the rest, I slid them into place.  I was promptly yelled at in sharp Japanese by the hostess who magically appeared (just in time to see me make my first wrong move).  I had obviously not stepped up onto the 2nd small level to remove my shoes, and so was not only soiling my socks on the unclean 1st level, I had also placed my shoes along with those of the servants.  This might be a tough dinner.

Having worked out the shoe ritual to the hostess's satisfaction, I was guided upstairs to three wooden-framed, paper-panelled, sliding doors.  Behind one, I could hear the comfortable conversation of happy dinner guests.  I was taken to the one opposite, empty, with four tables.  I folded myself onto the cushion on the floor and attempted to fit my legs under the very low table.  To my dismay (and I'm sure theirs as well), the only comfortable position was straight-legged, but my feet stuck out the other end of the table.  Nearly in the middle of the room.  So I curled my toes, wondered if I'd be eating dinner here completely alone, and picked up the menu.

Thankfully, there were English translations and even some pictures, so I picked out a nice assortment of sushi, Kobe beef appetizer, and other small plates to get a taste of the famous Kyoto cuisine.  All ready to point my way through my order, I sat patiently for the waitress.  She came in several times, seating young parents with their sleeping baby, then two businessmen who promptly guzzled down several beers (always filling the other person's glass, a custom I'd read about but not seen till then).  In all this time, I am working to make eye contact, but trying to not be too pushy and cause more offense than I surely already had.  But after being ignored about 10 times, even my well-developed patience was wearing thin, and I did my best to clearly pronounce "excuse me" in Japanese as directed by the Lonely Planet.  Cold shoulder.  Now I really felt alone.

But the young father noticed my struggle, and with a smile pointed at the napkin dispenser.  My first thought was that he was telling me to raise the white flag of surrender.  But he got up and pointed next to the napkin dispenser, where a small electronic buzzer was setup.  He pressed it, and instantly the waitress materialized with a polite smile ready to take my order.  I gave him a hearty "arigato," ordered my food (and a beer), and had an immensely pleasant meal.

To this day, I think the small feat of overcoming a traditional Japanese meal on my own without losing most of my face is one of my great traveller's achievements.  It may seem like a small event, but I think great successes often are. I was exhilarated and celebrated with one more beer at a cool Japanese reggae bar before wobbling home on my bike.

Air

The thing I mentioned about being alone isn't a plea for sympathy, it's more a statement of fact. Kyoto isn't a place to be alone.  It's a place for lovers; a place to slow down and marvel at the seemingly easy perfection of the shrines; a place to reflect.  And in this case, I did everything wrong.  My capitalist logic was flawed.  Hopefully the next time I return, I can spend the time to do Kyoto justice because I realize now that, unlike many cities, it's somewhere that gives back more than it takes.  A rare treasure.

I figured I would end this post with a YouTube clip from "Lost In Translation" where Scarlett Johansson wanders around Kyoto in a day much like I did.  She really looks at peace in the film, but as Hollywood often does of foreign cities, the reality is a bit lost (in translation).  You can't do everything she did in a day .  Still, it's a moving scene, and the song "Alone in Kyoto" that is playing in the background is by a band I like called Air.  But Hollywood strikes again, and with the copyright I can't find any suitable clips from the movie to include.  Instead, here's the same song where someone included beautiful shots of Kyoto.  Gives you an even better idea than what I can say.  Notice the cherry blossoms in bloom, a spectacular sight that I also missed out on due to my arrival in the wrong season.  Maybe next time.

Japan - Tokyo

Japan - Tokyo - Oct 3-7, 2008

It was as if I was searching for the most opposite place possible from Cambodia. Only a few weeks earlier I was in the Cambodian capital, Phnom Penh, having drinks at the colonial throwback Foreign Correspondents Club where people seemed to remember the "good old days" of British rule. Now entering Tokyo, I was vaulted into an almost sci-fi world of high speed wireless, bullet trains, and rapid-fire Japanese from school girls who seemed to be modelled after dolls.


Even the meals are efficient. My favorite instance was the breakfast of noodle soup that I enjoyed with a collection of Americans and Australians I'd met in my shoebox hostel. To order your meal, you go to the vending machine-looking device outside, peruse the selections, pick the one you want and pay right at the machine. In a few minutes, the cook shouts your number (in Japanese, of course) and you only have to pick it up. Considering what they save on payroll, I wouldn't be surprised if there were entire sit-down restaurants run by machines. A bit impersonal, I suppose, but for a bunch of Japanese-less budget travellers this was quite a find.

The whole thing got me thinking about the difference between a "first world" country and a "third world" country. I'd been told (and quickly observed) that Japan was the only first world country in Asia. But what exactly is the definition?

All the water here is drinkable, while in most of Asia a foreigner needs to drink bottled water only. But that seems a bit too narrow. Perhaps it's something about economic maturity? A quick look at Iceland these days will show that's probably not true.

I decided that it came down to people and machines. In Cambodia, there are a lot of people, but not many skilled enough to make and support elaborate machines. Where as in Japan, it's the people that are in short supply, so they need to invent and modernize to satisfy the demands of all those skilled people. So perhaps that makes "second world" countries are the ones who are going through that transition from labor-excess to labor-scarcity?

Let's return to the machine-ordering restaurant system example. In Cambodia, the same breakfast place might have 10 low paid employees performing the job of the one machine, but at least they have jobs and can feed their families. If they had a machine to take the orders, who would fix it if it broke down? Reminds me of the delay Tom and I had in arriving in Zanzibar - the island had 6 weeks of no power because they had to fly in Norwegian engineers to fix an underwater power cable, the island's only source of mains electricity. Efficiency can take on a new meaning when you carefully consider what you are trying to optimize. It feels like some companies these days have forgotten that lesson.


You Can't Train That

Anyone who has been to Japan can tell you though, even by first world standards, the efficiency is astounding. After a few days of touring and partying in Tokyo, I decided to take the hugely expensive, but uniquely modern-Japanese, experience of the Shinkansen - the bullet train - to Kyoto. Thinking they were like other long-distance trains but faster, I arrived at the station to find that they leave about every 10 minutes.

Can you imagine the engineering and logistical genius that it must take to get so many trains arriving every 10 minutes after travelling 186 mph over the various parts of the 1,528 mile long network? I have a feeling a large part of it is due to the Automatic Train Control system, eliminating the need for signals. After being trapped many times on the London Tube because of signal failures, I can tell you how desirable that system is.


Clearly for me, the wonder of modern Tokyo left the strongest impression. But a collection of other images remain in my mind.

Fresh sushi on a conveyor belt...


A neighborhood full of anime & manga paraphernalia...


...along with the odd person (guy, I think) playing dress-up...


An exhibit of traditional masks at the National Museum...


And amazing signs. Read carefully!

Cambodia

Cambodia - Sep 20-25, 2008

My first of a few long weekends from Hong Kong was a trip to the fascinating but incredibly down-trodden country of Cambodia. The main touristic draw is the ancient sprawl of the Angkor temples, located in a large swath of the middle of the country. In most other places, the main temple complex of Angkor Wat would be an absolute Disneyland of tourist exaltation. But in Cambodia there is a crowded, but modest, road with a series of huts surrounding it. I found myself continually asking why more than any other place I'd been.


Why were the people so shockingly poor? Why were there only about 10 real roads in the country? Why did they seem unable to pull themselves up by their bootstraps like neighboring Vietnam? Why was I bargaining with a kid to knock the price of a t-shirt from US$1.50 down to $1? Why weren't we bargaining in the local Reil, rather than in US Dollars? Why were there 5 people riding on a single motorcycle?


The Economics of Strife

I found it bizarre that a world away from America, almost all transactions were quoted in Dollars. The simple reason is that the Reil is pegged to the Dollar, so without an exchange rate that moves much, it doesn´t really matter which currency you use. But I don´t think that´s the whole story. My take was that the local people´s frequent use of Dollars was a sign of their lack of confidence in the Cambodian government. If you have Dollars in your pocket and the political system falls apart again, at least you still have something you can trust. I don´t think this stems from any love or hate of Americans, of course. Instead it´s that the Dollar is still by far the most stable and accessible currency in the world and that a lot of their tourists are Americans. It´s amazing to think about how many Dollars aren´t actually in America.

And Cambodians do have a lot of reason to mistrust their government. Since the fall of their great Hindu and Buddhist Khmer Empire that built the Angkor temples in the fourteenth century, the country basically has gone from one mess to the next. During the Vietnam War, American forces believed that Vietcong rebels were hiding across the border in Cambodia, resulting in serious bombings (including Agent Orange) and also the placement of mines. During the war, a communist rebel regime called the Khmer Rouge was inadvertently aided by the negative sentiment caused by American carpet bombings and gradually took control of the country as the Cambodian people turned away from the West. And, as often happens, the new leaders were worse than the old ones. The Khmer Rouge sucked all the life out of the country. Formally starting at the end of the war in 1975, Pol Pot´s government was so ruthless that millions of Cambodians were slaughtered in one of the worst humanitarian disasters of our time. America was so weakened and shy after such a difficult time in Vietnam that no help was in sight for Cambodians.


The Khmer Rouge ripped their way through the country, indiscriminately destroying anyone they felt were remotely capitalist and anything they considered intellectual. The population was clearly devastated, with an estimated 1.5 million people killed during their reign. In Cambodia, it´s obviously a bit taboo to be chatting away as if this happened hundreds of years ago, so I don´t know most of the details. So I focused my attention on the little bit I could glean from the locals and also on the obvious results in the Angkor Temples.

One example pointed to me by a young boy was a caved in temple tower of where a Khmer Rouge soldier had tossed a hand grenade. I´m not sure if it was out of spite or boredom, but it was clear they were indifferent to the incredible history of their people and had no qualms about destroying some of the greatest monuments ever conceived. The path of destruction continued for many years, finally being completely wiped out of Cambodia by 1998.

It Has To Get Better From Here

Thankfully for Cambodians and the world, most of the temples were left alone. They´ve since been cleaned up and reinforced mainly by tireless work of French archaeologists (who had actually started in the early 1900´s and are dysfunctional Cambodia´s greatest hope for progress. I was often questioned about my interest in Cambodia by the Chinese friends I had in Hong Kong. Why would I want to visit some place that is so poor and recently unstable? For me, it was about seeing the temples and experiencing a place so recently opened up to Westerners. And I was not disappointed.


Designed and built only between 900 and 1200 AD (an amazingly short period in history for such an accomplishment), the Angkor temples are an experience. In all but the ones currently under renovation, you can climb up and inside them. This may not sound like much, but after Beijing's extremely controlled sites, the freedom here seemed incredible. And it allowed me to get glimpses of life in ancient Cambodia. Imagine worshipping in Angkor Thom and being watched by the thousands of carved faces. Must have been awe inspiring.


Angkor Wat is the most famous temple and the center of most of the tourist bustle...


...but my favorite temple by far was Ta Prohm, the temple prominently displayed in Tomb Raider. I learned this fact at about the same time in my guidebook as when a Japanese tour group shuffled past with their guide chattering away...."Yadda yadda yadda Angelina Jolie." Which got the chorused response, "Ahhh Angelina Jolie!"


The silk cotton trees growing up and around the stone walls for what must be thousands of years gave the temple the feeling that they were only discovered yesterday. And also maybe that zombie polar bears could spring from the spooky doorways, with a lady in a tight black outfit jumping out to save you....


In the end, I left with a great appreciation of the positive spirit of a people who on the surface had every reason to be bitter. Perhaps by rallying around their ancient history and Angkor Wat, they can improve their fortunes. I have not seen a country that deserves it more. And then maybe the Riel will really be worth something.

Hong Kong

Hong Kong - Aug 25-Nov 29, 2008

I had worked out my arrival in Hong Kong with the logistical precision to make my former engineering professors proud. Since I would be working in HK for 3 months (covering for a woman on maternity leave in my department), I had shipped 2 boxes of the belongings I would need from my old apartment in London to my new office in Hong Kong. This was at the same time I shipped the rest to New York, except for the items I had been carrying with me for the past 3 months.

My plan was to take the amazingly efficient train from the new airport to Central Station, walk the few blocks to my office, get my boxes, and then take a cab to my new apartment, where the check-in attendant would be expecting me. So simple, it couldn´t go wrong. Except on this day, Hong Kong welcomed both a Storms and a typhoon.


For anyone not familiar with East Asia weather patterns (I certainly wasn´t), a typhoon is basically a compact hurricane that passes by in a day or so, but the short time means it usually doesn´t cause as much damage as a big hurricane. But small points of intense wind can be catastrophic if you happen to be in the area. Hence frequent pictures after a typhoon of the ubiquitous bamboo scaffolding sticking out awkardly from somewhere it clearly doesn´t belong, hopefully not a person.



Hong Kong has a useful 1-10 warning system represnenting both the wind speed and the appropriate reaction from the population. At #8, the city completely shuts down: all staff is expected to go home if they are able, buses soon stop running, taxis could continue but are encouraged to avoid the flying bamboo by insurance rules stating that any damage occuring with a warning of #8 or above won´t be covered.

Needless to say, flights don´t land there as well. Mine was one of the last to arrive this day before the #8 flag was hoisted. Luckily, the trains mostly still run, so I eased myself into the seat of a nearly empty car and soon after the #9 flag was raise. 45 minutes later I walked into a windy, but rainless, day of one of the busiest cities in the world to find myself completely alone. Think of the beginning of Vanilla Sky (where I´m Tom Cruise, of course). Luckily, big companies never truely shut, no matter what life threatening storm system is approaching, and the lights of my new office still burned brightly. I don´t think I´ll even be happier to be at work.

Thankfully, while I was trying to explain to the dubious security staff why a bearded American backpacker was trying to get into their Hong Kong office in the middle of a once-in-10-years typhoon, a former colleague from New York walked out of the elevator to my surprised smile. Mei didn´t recognize me at first, but some explaining got the message across and she finally returned my smile with a wonderful welcome. And so I had my first friend in Hong Kong.

The next day was clear and beautiful and I headed up to the top of "the Peak" (Victoria Peak on Hong Kong Island), probably the best destination in the city. The view speaks for itself....


That was where I met up with Fei, another friend from NY living in HK, who helped make my introduction to HK life a breeze. Spending time with his wife and adorable new baby was certainly one of the highlights for me. I also met some cool people from Taiwan, who introduced me to the local HK restaurants (usually boney meat in noodle soup, but quite nice if you like that kind of food). Here is Fei, Miranda, and me at a waterfall on the Peak on that first day.


The next 3 months passed quickly. I found myself back in the office-stride quicker than I thought I would be considering I had been away from work for the whole summer. I´m sure I was helped by the newness of the people, culture, and lifestyle. I marvelled each night at the stunning view from my apartment of the IFC Tower 2, the world´s 7th tallest building.


And generally tried to see as much of the city as I could.



I enjoyed the world-renowned nightlife, especially in nearby Lan Kwai Fong, a crazy party street.


I was even able to make it to Hong Kong Stadium to see a Rugby Union match between the New Zealand All Blacks and Australia Wallabies, a huge event for any rugby fan.




My favorite part was definitely the times I got out of the middle of the concrete jungle and into the beautiful wilderness that surrounds HK. My coworkers took me on the ferry one night to Lamma Island for a seafood feast. And with Laura, my lone visitor and former London flatmate, I discovered the "World's Tallest Outdoor Bronze Seated Buddha" (quite a distinction, I suppose) and a great beach at Cheung Sha only an hour away on the subway.


But best of all was the day hike my friend Miranda took me to in Sai Kung. This "rural" hike around a freshwater reservoir ahd stunning views and has been made very comfortable by the hardworking Chinese - the entire pathway is paved better than most Western roads.

The Hong Kong Story

In a way, Hong Kong is most fascinating simply because it exists. It is basically a collection of islands hanging off China in the South China Sea that for most of its life had no huge significance. After the British won the Opium Wars, Hong Kong became officially part of the United Kingdom in 1842. It then continued modernizing and became a major trading center for the British while they attemted to consolidate their control of Asia.

After a brief, but not forgotten, period of Japanese control, British run Hong Kong was ceded back to the galvanized People´s Republic of China (PRC) on July 1, 1997. The event, known as ¨The Handover,¨ was recent enough to my visit that it seemed to me people still hadn´t quite decided how they felt about it. On one hand, Hong Kong had clearly prospered beyond imagination under British control. On the other, it is clearly very much a Chinese place by culture and location, and the newly prosperous China could perhaps usher in a new era of success for Hong Kongers. The agreement they decided up was basically that China would allow HK political and economic freedom distinct from the philosphy of communism in the mainland. There are a few other of these Special Administrative Regions (SAR), such as Macau - known as the Las Vegas of Asia.

Since then HK has thrived. It is effectively the West´s portal to China because of the liberal economic rules and the large number of English speakers (more than any other part of Asia, I would guess). The central Beijing government seems to be slowly chipping away at the political freedom, but business is still doing well and this doesn´t seem to want to change. Shanghai is especially racing to catch-up with a lot of help from the government, but Hong Kong has a dynamism of life and work that´s hard to beat.

Granted, HK is being hit by the economic downturn like everywhere else (including the previously super-hot property market), but my guess is it will pop back up just as quickly when things turn around. The combination of the funnel of money from the West (one third of foreign capital entering China flows through HK) and smart local Chinese business people using HK as a base for their mainland manufacturing firms is hard to beat. The nearby city of Shenzhen seems to only exist as the Chinese face of the Hong Kong coin.

As for daily life, I was reminded often that this as certainly not yet a first world place. The tap water is mostly undrinkable (though I allowed ice cubes since you do gradually build up an immunity). My favorite Cheung Sha beach had pretty miserable water that the few times I went in I felt I should take an even longer shower immediately after. There was a massive milk scandal where Chinese milk producers were trying to save money by watering down the milk and adding melamine so it would pass the simple protein test the government uses. And, of course, the air is noticeably polluted, making my skin break out and on bad days I think even making me feel a bit lathargic. So shortly after I arrived, I realized I wasn´t supposed to drink the water, milk, or breathe the air. It´s a good thing Hong Kong is also the Asian wine hub.

Finally in one place for more than a few days, I also did my best to understand the HK Chinese culture. The main language of the region is Cantonese, which is related to, but quite different from, Mandirin, the Chinese national language. They are both tonal, meaning that one word pronounced differently can mean two very different things. I heard about one friend asking for salt and being brought an ash tray. The idea of a tonal language was quite confusing for me until I realized that we have the same concept in English....to a smaller extent. Say outloud these two phrases - ¨You.¨ and ¨You?¨ Can you hear the inflection go up in the second ´you´? Apparently there are at least 5 more of those tones and they are used to a great extent in Chinese languages. (I´m really hoping your coworkers are giving you strange looks now.)

I found the people to be very curious about my life in America and my travels. I especially remember one conversation with a girl from near Shanghai on Halloween. She quized me over dinner before heading out to experience the crazy festival in Lan Kwai Fong with friends....

She wanted to know all about different traditions in America...Halloween, New Year´s, and especially birthdays. Apparently in much of China birthdays aren´t big events, just something to note rather than to celebrate. So our tradition of a big cake and a party were pretty strange for her. It was a fun conversation though and gave me some good ideas of questions to ask other people to learn about their cultures. My new favorite - How long do two people see each other before you are called boyfriend-girlfriend?

My final discovery was that the pictures we see in the West of Chinese people wearing surgical masks out of fear of infection is not quite the whole story. Sure during SARS that was a big story, but these days most people actually wear them altruistically when they are sick to keep their own illness from spreading to others. Sounds like quite a modern idea, eh? It´s a bit uncomfortable to talk to a coworker in the office while he is wearing a mask, but you get used to it and in the end appreciate that they are looking out for you!

Here´s to Hong Kong!!

Beijing Olympics

Beijing Olympics - August 12-25, 2008

For the majority of my visit, I viewed Beijing like most casual visitors: as a modern city with gleaming high-rises; clean, straight streets; stunning athletics venues; and excellent Beijing (formerly Peking) duck. But I knew there was more to the story and wanted to use the chance I had at the Olympics to see more.

I had dual-good fortune there that allowed me to do just that. First, my friend Nicole from college moved over almost a year ago with her boyfriend and was a phenomenal guide with impressive Mandarin for such a short time in the country. Second, my extremely generous former coworker, David, and his wife, Lily, let me stay at their family's apartment where Lily was also back from NY. Together they helped a weary traveler more than they could imagine. I was in good hands!

Throughout the two weeks I spent in Beijing, I alternated between the spectacle of the Olympic events and attempts to gain that understanding of the real Beijing, even if I didn't have time to discover the real China. Both goals were difficult.

The Olympics were everything you'd dream them to be. I was able to buy some event tickets through the country-specific web site in May, which took some research but actually wasn't that hard in the end. We bagged some others from scalpers, random mysterious phone numbers, and a few fellow tourists.

Seeing Beijing involved a bit more creativity. You were constantly funneled into the tourist sites, which on the whole didn't disappoint. I marveled at the Forbidden City in the rain....


and the Great Wall in the hot sun....


but the lives of ordinary people seemed out of reach.

This remained the case for me until one day when I was walking down a random road (I walked a lot more than most in Beijing), and saw a postered wall that I thought might make a memorable photo.


As I was bringing the camera up, I saw someone emerge from a crack in the wall and realized there were small houses behind. So at the next more obvious opening, I went in. Inside was like stepping back 30 years to a small Peking village. Unlike the glass and steel of the other parts of Beijing, I found brick houses huddled close together with sights of life at every turn.


I had stumbled into a hutong. These charming centrally-planned neighborhoods were previously had covered Beijing from head to toe, but are being progressively ripped up to make way for modern developments. The local people are paid some money and moved to another location by the government. And, at least during the Olympics, those that hadn't been cleared yet were like the ones I had found, surrounded by masking walls with Olympic covering, hiding the un-modern from the casual Western eye at a time when all eyes were on Beijing.

My criticism of the race to modernism was tempered by the apparent high standard of living that I saw. I've been on the outskirts of major slums in Rio de Janeiro, Cape Town and Mumbai, and what I saw in Beijing wouldn't even come close to being classified as a slum. There were clean public toilets (men's & women's) scattered around, sturdy houses, and most people looked quite healthy. I'm sure there are less fortunate hutongs in Beijing than the downtown one I had stumbled into, but to my untrained eye, the lower-class Chinese people seemed to be well taken care of.

Now, I'm certainly not running out to cast my vote for Communism in the next election, but I have found my criticism to be more cautious after that experience. Think of it as a balance. In China, the people let the government generally decide where they can live and in return have mostly clean, affordable housing. In contrast, people in India seemed to have amazing freedom of where and how to live, but they get no help from the government to improve the conditions. I suppose the trade-off for the general population in India is that when a new road or airport desperately needs to be built, it takes years of democratic consensus building to get anything done (and some well placed bribery, I assume). But the Beijing government could bulldoze this whole hutong village next week if they decided it was the best spot for the people's much needed car wash. The India press would be in an uproar, while the Chinese government controlled press would toe the party line.

With this imagine swirling through my head, I saw the Olympic venues in a new light. Looking on the "Bird's Nest," the main Athletics stadium, I could appreciate it as the best stadium I've ever seen, but also imagined the thousands of people who must have been displaced over the years as this massive village was being built (first for the 1990 Asian Games, and then expanded later for the Olympics). But the stadium is graceful and, paired with the neighboring Aquatic Center, makes for an awe inspiring entrance into the Olympic village.




We were lucky enough to secure 4th row tickets in the Bird's Nest for an evening of Athletics events early in the first week. Dressed head to toe in red, white, and blue, we cheered with all our hearts. I had to laugh because I felt like all of the hurrah-America spirit I'd kept toned down for the past 3 years of living in the UK seemed to come spilling out all at once. I think there are a million Chinese people with pictures of a 6'6" guy with a 4' American flag and a big smile. Thankfully, I wasn't alone.


In addition to Athletics, I saw boxing, USA men's soccer (not so good), and women's soccer. My luck struck again because the random woman's soccer tickets I purchased 5 months prior happened to be the semi-finals with USA vs. Japan! The USA team was amazing, coming from behind to win 4-2 in excellent form. They went on to beat Brazil in the finals and win their 2nd consecutive gold medal. Again, our seats were great and Nicole and I were waving our 4 foot American flag. Early on, a friendly Chinese man saw me trying to wave the whole flag myself and left his family, climbed over 5 rows of seats sitting next to me for the whole game to help wave the flag whenever I wanted. He didn't speak any English at all, but seemed thrilled with the cheers and high-fives I offered at each USA goal.


Near the end of the match I offered my impression of a giddy teenager at a Justin Timberlake concert when I loudly professed my love for the tattooed Hawaiian star Natasha Kai....and got a hang loose sign in response. How cool!!

As you can imagine, my camera snapped away for 2 weeks straight, so I'll leave with a few of my favorite shots.














Happy 2009!!