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The Last Village

Posted: September 25, 2004

DAY 335: Modernization has really taken its toll on Hong Kong Island since its colonization by the British in the seventeenth century. Skyscrapers have sprouted like weeds on the northern shore, filling every hole in the Hong Kong skyline. However, as tall and modern these skyscrapers may be, they were built with an age-old method; all scaffolding was made out of just bamboo sticks tied together. The rickety bamboo scaffolding is still in use today, even at eighty plus stories up.

Last Time for Tea Time

Posted: September 26, 2004

DAY 336: If there’s one thing to mention about the influence of British imperialism in the Hong Kong territory, it’s the concept of high tea, or “tea time.” You know, drinking tea and eating krumpets and scones with posh British accents and saying things like “Cheerio” and “Good day.” While having high tea isn’t exactly a mainstream thing that every Hong Konger does everyday, it’s still a ritual that is practiced, particularly on weekends. According to all the guidebooks, the place to have it is at the Peninsula Hotel, a fancy luxury landmark opened in 1928 in the Tsui Sha Tsim (TST) district of Kowloon, so fancy that if you have a reservation there and want a transport from the airport, they send out a Rolls-Royce.

Fugu Me

Posted: September 26, 2004

DAY 337: One thing I never expected this Blog to do is actually have influence on the course of The Trip; usually a travel Blog is just a report on stuff that happens without ever actually being a part of the story that it is telling. Of all the incredible things The Blog has done for me, one was introduce me to new people, faithful readers of my (mis)adventures. (At the time of writing, I believe there are more readers that I’ve never met than people I know — and even more if more of you SBRs would speak up!)

One of these unknown Blogreaders — neigh, Blog Hogs — was Liz, who opted to be on “The Trinidad Show” by inviting me to her home in Japan, a country I always wanted to go but wouldn’t unless I had a place to crash since it’s so expensive. Liz, a Canadian ex-pat from Windsor, Ontario provided me that place to crash in her humble apartment in central Tokyo, which she shared with her Japanese husband Hiroshi. She told me to come on over so she could play host for me — she even had episodes of The Amazing Race saved up for me to watch. She also entertained my idea that one night we’d go out for fugu, the poisonous blowfish immortalized in an episode of The Simpsons, a food that could kill you if not cut and prepared properly due to its inherent natural presence of tetrodotoxin. (There is a 50% fatality rate according to an FDA report. Some regard eating fugu as playing the culinary equivalent of Russian Roulette.)

We Gonna Rock Down To Electric Avenue

Posted: September 27, 2004

DAY 338: Japanese technology can be seen all over the world, from a mobile phone in a remote town in Africa to a big home theater in Chicago, USA. Chances are that the very computer you are using right now to read this very Blog has some Japanese parts in it, if not all Japanese parts. Japanese technology has put the “modern” in “Modern World” as many everyday indispensable things originate from the electronic über-companies that are based in Japan, particularly Tokyo. In fact, Liz’s apartment was just across the street from the backside of Sony World Headquarters, with a windowless R & D wing guarding so many secret prototypes like a secure fortress — you couldn’t even park you car on the street outside.

Things to Do When Your Wallet is Missing

Posted: September 28, 2004

DAY 339: People came from the left, right, north, south, east, west, northwest and north north west. Everywhere I turned there was another person speeding along on two legs trying to get somewhere. I stood in the middle of the random chaos and just observed with no rush of my own, spinning around and shooting them all with my camera. From above it probably looked like a game of Asteroids or something.

See No Common Sense

Posted: September 29, 2004

DAY 340: Tokyo is a huge sprawling metropolis with the area of 2,187 sq. km., almost 400 times larger than a football field. With so many buildings spread out over such an expanse, it’s no wonder Tokyo was chosen to be the battlefield for Godzilla and all his monster movie enemies. It’s so big that it is often called “Mega-Tokyo” in Japanese sci-fi anime films.

Inner Child

Posted: October 03, 2004

DAY 341: Slurping your noodles in a restaurant in the Western World isn’t exactly proper manners, but in Japan it is actually encouraged; the intake of air is supposed to enhance the flavor of the them. Slurping is something that I believe is an intrinsic habit of human nature — it is upbringing in a non-slurping society that trains us not too. In Japan it was great to get back with my inner slurping child; there’s something about it that just gives you that innocent unrestricted sensation that kids have before they get too old. Eating soba noodles the Japanese way made me feel blended in with the locals, until I was told I was resting my chopsticks on the wrong thing.

“Uh, that’s an ashtray,” Liz informed me.

Goldilocks and The Three Bowls

Posted: October 03, 2004

DAY 342: Of all the amazing technology in Japan, I must give honorable mention to the advancements in the toilet industry. Yes, the Japanese even use technology to make the daily experience of taking a dump easier. When I first arrived at Liz’s apartment’s bathroom, I was already amazed that even without the integration of an electric device, the Japanese figured a way to improve the toilet: after flushing the toilet, the water that fills the tank for the next flush doesn’t come straight from the pipeline. Instead, it goes to a faucet of a sink atop the tank so that you can wash your hands with fresh water — from there, the sink drains into the tank, resulting in an added conservation of water.

Sensory Overload

Posted: October 03, 2004

DAY 343: I am probably a bit biased when I say this, but I think my generation, the generation whose childhood took place in the 1980s, is the best generation. It was in the 80s that the video game revolution began, when an Atari 2600 or ColecoVision was on the top of every boy’s Christmas list, when visions of sugarplum game cartridges danced in our heads. Yes, you can blame us for being that first generation that would rather play video games than do a boring thing like reading or taking out the garbage. Why do anything else when you could switch your switchbox on the back of the TV from “TV” to “GAME CONSOLE” and play a game like Atari’s Combat, where you could fire a non-descript looking shape that was supposed to be a tank with such a force that it knocked the other non-descript shape all the way to the other side of the screen?

Searching For Godzilla

Posted: October 05, 2004

DAY 344: I never really realized how much Japanese pop culture had become world pop culture until I got to Japan. From video games to anime films, Japan has contributed many things to international pop culture, and none is bigger (at least in size) than the big monster known as Godzilla.

School Day

Posted: October 06, 2004

DAY 345: Liz’s job in Japan was a corporate trainer and English teacher for businesspeople. Most of her clients were Japanese businessmen and businesswomen who needed to learn English for their employers, to reach a particular rating by the Foreign Services Institute so that they could communicate overseas. Most companies required a rating of 2.2 to 2.4 (on a scale of 0.0-5.0), which was fairly okay. (By comparison, George W. Bush scored a 3.4 and Bill Clinton scored a 4.2.)

Indoor Fun

Posted: October 07, 2004

DAY 346: Typhoon season in Japan occurs during the change in climate around the coming of autumn, from about August to October, much like the hurricanes that hit the Caribbean and the eastern seaboard of North America. Unlike the American hurricanes, which are given plain American names in alphabetical order (“Albert,” “Bobby,” “Chris,” etc.), typhoons are simply given plain numbers in Japan in ascending order. That Wednesday, “Typhoon 21” was on its way up from the South China Sea and on through southern Japan.

Live-Action Japanimation

Posted: October 07, 2004

DAY 347: Voltron. Pokémon. G-Force. Yu-Gi-Oh. Speed Racer. Unless you’ve been hiding in a cave for the past fifty years (without a TV), you must recognize at least one of these titles (each one representing a decade since the 1960s). They are the titles of some of the more popular cartoons to be exported out of Japan and into the screens of American television, after being redubbed into English.

Bullet Time

Posted: October 08, 2004

DAY 348: “I’m quite envious that you’re going to Kyoto,” Liz confessed to me at the dining table that morning. She had lived in Japan for five odd years, but had never made it out to tour the former Imperial capital. I supposed Liz exhibited the same behavior found in most people — to not tour the home country. (Besides, a flight and a week’s stay in Thailand was cheaper than spending a weekend in Kyoto.)

Zen and The Art of Bicycle Maintenance

Posted: October 08, 2004

DAY 349: Kyoto is the other must-see city (aside from Tokyo) for anyone with a short amount of time in Japan, according to the 1997 Lonely Planet guide. “More than any other city in Japan, if you care to seek it out, Kyoto offers what all westerners long for of Japan — raked pebble gardens, the sensuous contours of a temple roof, the tripping step of a latter-day geisha in pursuit of a taxi.” The center of the Japanese empire was based in Kyoto from the 7th to the 19th centuries, and in that time many classic buildings were constructed to serve the rulers, the people and the religions they believed in.

The Japanese Connection

Posted: October 09, 2004

DAY 350: When I was on a tour to ride camels in the Sahara desert of Morocco, I met a young Japanese guy in my group named Muzza. He, along with the cartoon philosophical Vancouverite Sebastian and others including myself, rode camels into the sunset, slept in a Bedouin camp and climb big Saharan sand dunes. My times with Muzza were short but he gave me his contact info and told me to get in touch with him once I got to Japan.

A Castle Tale

Posted: October 10, 2004

DAY 351: Osaka, as Lonely Planet says, is a big modern city concerned with money, food and drink but “if you go looking for beauty, [it] will surely disappoint.” However, when I got off the local JR train (cheaper than taking the bullet train from Kyoto since it was less than an hour away), I found Lonely Planet to be the disappointing one — their Osaka street map neglected to label any of the streets, and I just got lost. Really, what’s the point of a map if there are no street names on it?

Fahrenheit 8/6

Posted: October 10, 2004

DAY 352: August 6, 1945, 8:14 a.m. It was a clear, sunny day over the city of Hiroshima, a city that prided itself as a center of education. People of the Saragakucho district, a vibrant neighborhood of actors and artisans, were going about the beginning of their day like any other — kids went to school, adults went to work. One person’s anecdote of that beautiful morning started, “A dragonfly flitted in front of me and stopped on a fence. I stood up, took my cap in my hands, and was about to catch the dragonfly when…”

The Critters of Miyajima

Posted: October 12, 2004

DAY 353: One of the iconic and most photographic structures in Japan is the Ohtorii Gate, a bright orange gateway marking the entrance to the Itsukushima Shine on Miyajima Island. This island was a daytrip away from Hiroshima and I decided to check it out at Liz’s suggestion. Besides, with all the post-A-bomb peace memorials in town, I was getting a little “peaced out.”

Farewell Surprise

Posted: October 12, 2004

DAY 354: Whispers were going back and forth between Hiroshi and Liz. They wanted to take me out for dinner for my last night in Japan, but they wanted the location to be a surprise.

Maybe it’s sushi. Maybe it’s yakitori. Or maybe it’s something cool that I don’t even know about.

I saw them come to a consensus. “We’re going to give you a taste of home,” was Liz’s only clue.

McDonald’s? Starbucks? Oh wait, are we going to that Denny’s down the road? Surely it can’t be Denny’s. Right?

One Writes in Bangkok

Posted: October 14, 2004

DAY 355: “Won’t you be relieved when you get home and you don’t have to move on anymore?” Liz asked me the morning I left Tokyo as we walked to the train platform.

“I can’t wait ‘til I don’t have to write anymore.”

One Night in Dhaka

Posted: October 14, 2004

DAY 356: “I need to get to Kathmandu as soon as possible,” I asked at multiple travel agencies in Bangkok. The answer I got: “Not ‘til Monday.” (It was Saturday.)

“Is there anyway you get me there sooner?” I pleaded. I sounded like a desperate contestant on The Amazing Race who was in last place — but one travel agent, Ms. Kook at Nancy Travel, had an option for me. “There is a flight. Bangkok, Dhaka, Kathmandu,” she told me. “But it’s stand-by.”

“Let’s go.” I even paid the extra twenty bucks to get me off the waiting list and guarantee me a seat in a higher class. Ms. Kook simultaneously worked multiple telephones and a fax machine like an overworked secretary, but made it happen. By three in the afternoon, I had tickets for a flight that evening at eight for Dhaka, Bangladesh, where the airline would put me up in a hotel for the night (included in the price of the ticket), before taking me to Kathmandu the next day. I’d get to Kathmandu a whole day earlier than if I waited for the Monday flight.

The Writer Card

Posted: October 14, 2004

DAY 357: If you’ve followed The Blog for the past dozen or so entries, you know that it was up in the air as to whether or not I’d go to Nepal — I even put it in the readers’ hands with a vote. With the Maoist rebels a bit more active these days trying to force Communism onto the Nepali people through acts of terrorism — Kathmandu was under siege about a month prior — there was debate over not just the safety of Nepal, but the ease of getting around with all the Maoist roadblocks. On top of that, the Nepalese were angry with Americans because of the killing of Nepali hostages by terrorist groups in American-occupied Iraq. And we mustn’t forget the regular threats in Nepal like avalanches and abominable snowmen.

Americans in Kathmandu

Posted: October 14, 2004

DAY 358: “You look Nepali,” said the hotel manager. So did the waiter in the garden restaurant and another guy. I think I was a novelty act for them: a guy that looked like they did but spoke in am American accent.

Special Report

Posted: October 20, 2004

In The Footsteps of Tenzing Norgay

Posted: October 22, 2004

DAY 359: Edmund Hillary, the New Zealander mountaineer became Sir Edmund Hillary when in 1953, he became the first man to climb to the summit of Mount Everest, the highest point on the planet at 8848m ASL. But he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t until recent years that a lot of credit went to the Sherpa guide at his side, Tenzing Norgay. Hillary might not have made it without Tenzing Norgay, as the conditions at the top of Mt. Everest are severe and life-threatening — in the Coen Brothers’ 2003 film Intolerable Cruelty, George Clooney’s character says something to the effect, “No man can make it without his Tenzing Norgay.” (I saw the flick on a plane.) Perhaps if the Sherpa people of the Himalayas got more press back in the day, Hillary might not have taken all the initial glory. (To be fair, Hillary did fully respect the Sherpas and put a lot of money into their community when he got it; on the flipside, it’s not like Tenzing Norgay didn’t have the support of other Sherpas either.)

A Call For Tourists

Posted: October 22, 2004

DAY 360: “My friend tells me you are a journalist,” said a Nepali man at the table in the dining hall. He was all excited to meet me.

“Well, freelance,” I told him. “I’m not a staff reporter. I still have to sell stories.”

The Mysterious Yeti

Posted: October 22, 2004

DAY 361: Bigfoot. The Loch Ness Monster. In the Himalayas, the legendary creature is the Abominable Snowman, known by many as the yeti. You probably won’t believe this, but I swear I saw a yeti in Namche Bazar.

Like Warm Apple Pie

Posted: October 22, 2004

DAY 362: Like pole pole in Swahili and tranquilo in Spanish, the word for “relax” or “slow down” in Nepali is bistarai.

“Oh! Bistarai!” I exclaimed. “I recognize it from the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark.” I explained to Tilak the scene in Nepal where Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen) is in a drinking contest and shouts “Bistarai!” to everyone when surrounding Nepali gamblers thought the other guy might be the winner. Tilak had no idea what I was talking about.

“It’s an American movie from 1981.”

“Like American Pie? I saw American Pie.”

I chuckled. “Uh, no, it’s not American Pie.”

Garlic Me

Posted: October 22, 2004

DAY 363: Altitude sickness, or mountain sickness, occurs when you are at a high altitude where the oxygen in the air is thinner. The human body can adjust to the change in oxygen percentage by creating more red blood vessels to bring oxygen to the brain — it simply takes time. Most people who get altitude sickness get it when they ascend too fast.

Sand Trap

Posted: October 23, 2004

DAY 364: I woke up in Pheriche feeling good. I suppose when you are awake walking around, it is better than actually sleeping alone in a cold, claustrophobic room.

All For A Pun

Posted: October 23, 2004

DAY 365(!): If you haven’t figured it out by now, the reason I was so eager to make it to Mount Everest on my thirtieth birthday was all for the sake of the right to truthfully say for the rest of my life, the following pun (or slight variations thereof):

“When I turned thirty, I was on Mount Everest… and it was all downhill from there.”

(Get it?)

The Long Way Down

Posted: October 25, 2004

DAY 366: (The following entry was written to the best of my memory since I didn’t have much time to take notes or photos in the delirium I was in that day.)

“Your guide is very sick,” Andres’ guide informed me as I woke up in the big bunk bed that morning. Tilak’s cough had gotten the best of him during the cold Himalayan night and it incapacitated him from being my guide for arguably the better of the two endings of the Everest trail, the peak of Kalapatthar (5545m. ASL), with its view of Everest summit.

Die Another Day

Posted: October 25, 2004

DAY 367: “You seem really calm about all this,” Dr. Mike told me the morning after my near-fatal incident on the Everest trail.

“I’m pretty calm about a lot of things,” I said. I was casually eating a bowl of rara noodle soup.

“You know you could have died yesterday from the pulmonary edema.”

Hmmm, there’s that “D” word again. I guess when you’re dying slowly, the situation doesn’t seem so grim until someone puts it bluntly to you like that.

What Exit?

Posted: October 26, 2004

DAY 368: “Ohaiyo gozaimas!” greeted the Nepali hotel clerk in Japanese when I finally showed my face downstairs that morning.

“Uh, no, I’m not Japanese.”

I went out to a table in the backyard garden cafe. The waiter gave me a note left by some Korean guy to pass on. “This is from your Korean friend.”

“Uh, no, that’s not me. I’m not Korean.”

What the hell? Altitude sickness must have been my Kryptonite because in my weakened condition, I no longer had the super power of blending in as a Nepali.

Slowly But Surely

Posted: October 26, 2004

DAY 369: It was the second day of my recuperation since The Incident on The Everest Trail, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t get up and walk around. Perhaps it was advantageous for me to be recuperating during the big Dashami festival (which took place mostly outside the city) because traffic was low in the usually lively Thamel district (picture below), and I didn’t have to keep dodging the busy traffic of bicycles, motorcycles and cars all competing for king of the road in the narrow bazaar streets.

In A Dark Back Alley

Posted: October 26, 2004

DAY 370: One of my worst fears in life is to be stranded at sea, the lone survivor of a boat sinking or something. The fear isn’t the actual being alone or being miles away from being rescued or even the threat of sharks, it is the fact that at any given moment, a big giant whale’s tail could pop out like in those nature documentaries and slap me down silly. Every time I see one of those whale documentaries on TV and see that happen, I cringe.

Nepali Again

Posted: October 26, 2004

DAY 371: I thought perhaps since Nepal wasn’t a Christian nation, a Sunday would be an ordinary day, with things open. However, things in the Thamel district were even more dead than before. When I finally lugged out my laundry to “the cheapest laundry service in town” (a whole big load for about three bucks, washed/dried/folded), I had to wait for it to be done the following day because the laundry guy had the day off.

Reunions

Posted: October 26, 2004

DAY 372: I was awake in my room that morning, ready for another boring day of recuperation — until there was a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” I said, the way Seinfeld speaks into the intercom when his apartment gets buzzed.

“It’s Tilak.”

On The Way To Delhi

Posted: October 26, 2004

DAY 373: All my bags were packed, I was ready to go… ‘Cuz I was leaving on a jet plane, didn’t know when I’d be back in Kathmandu again…

Good Old Delhi

Posted: October 28, 2004

DAY 374: Centuries ago when the British came and butchered the people of India, there was an immediate resentment and a rebellion built up within the British-governed Indian society. This was to be expected of course; I mean, what do you expect when a Western superpower forces a governmental system upon a country in order to regulate the taking of its natural resources? (Sounds familiar, huh?)

American Leftovers and Indian Flair

Posted: October 29, 2004

DAY 375: Since my arrival in India I had two leftover errands from Nepal that I wanted to take care of right away: finalize my insurance paperwork for reimbursement from the rescue from the Everest trail (total expenses came close to $5,000 USD!) and more importantly, try and get my absentee ballot for the 2004 US presidential election. I had tried numerous times in the Anoop Hotel’s fax desk to electronically send the eleven sheets of documents to my insurance company, only to have them tell me that I also had to mail in the originals. I had spent even more money and time to fax in my absentee vote ballot application to either of two numbers in America that I had gotten from the US embassy in Kathmandu. I don’t know which party was playing games on the other end, but the fax machine wouldn’t pick up my call.

Worldwide Pants

Posted: October 30, 2004

DAY 376: Bedridden again, this time in Delhi to rest my leg from the bacterial infection I contracted from a weird insect bite (and the mild “operation” I had to get it cleaned out), I sat in my room as the penicillin did its thing. For me it was a time to catch up on world news with CNN International and BBC World, with its always catchy break filler background music (RealMedia file) so jazzy that I think I even heard it in a club once.

Gandhi Park

Posted: November 01, 2004

DAY 377: In 1888, a young man from India went to London town to study law. Three years later he passed the bar exam and became a bona fide lawyer under the British court system and eventually became the legal representation of a firm in South Africa. Little did the young Indian man know at the time that a couple of decades later he would be hailed as a saint by some — and shot to death by another.

Playing The Game

Posted: November 01, 2004

DAY 378: Every now and then back home in the metro New York City area, my friends and I, inspired by the movie Swingers, hop in the car for a spontaneous 2 1/2-hr. road trip to Atlantic City so that we can pretend to be high rollers. Because of the free parking (and the fact that we are not high rollers), we often end up in the parking deck of the Showboat casino and eventually walk over to the adjacent Taj Mahal, Donald Trump’s palace of green felt tabletops, shiny slot machines and a pretty good buffet.

Jaipur Introduction

Posted: November 02, 2004

DAY 379: I woke up in Agra fighting again, the constant fight in my mind between myself and The Blog. “Blog” wanted me to hang out in my shabby room in Agra until I typed up another entry, while I just wanted to get out of there. I really wanted to go; there was a haze over the view of the Taj Mahal, the place was deserted, the toilet was clogged with drainage leaking onto the floor, and I was pretty sure Nati the shady auto-rickshaw driver was going to show up to drive me to another store to make commission if I didn’t leave by mid-morning. “Blog” said I could go, but only until I got some work done first.

Monkeys, Elephants and Pangkot Palace

Posted: November 02, 2004

DAY 380: According to the tips provided by Blogreaders Duaine and markyt, the fictional Pangkot Palace from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom is not just a set in a British sound stage. The exterior shots were filmed on location in India, more specifically at one of the palaces in Jaipur. While “palace in Jaipur” is like saying “skyscraper in New York City” or “church in Rome,” it was narrowed down to one palace, the Amber Fort, the former residential fort and palace complex built by Maharaja Man Singh in 1592. While the current Maharaja Sawai Bhawani Singh (forty odd generations down from Man Singh) chooses to live not the 11 km. north of the city where the Amber Fort is, but in the City Palace itself (it’s closer to the movie theater and the Pizza Hut), the inspiration for Pangkot Palace still remains on a hilltop for tourists to wander and for filmmakers, particularly the ones in Bollywood, to continue using it as a film location.

Look At The Stars

Posted: November 03, 2004

DAY 381: From what I gather, astrology has a bit of legitimacy in the public eye in India. In fact, the day before I saw on the front page of the legitimate Hindustan Times, whose cover story was the US election — it’s the cover story in most countries since the American president affect the entire planet — one blurb in the corner that had two prominent astrologists tell what the stars said about the election: that Bush and the Republicans would win a second term, but that second term would be tough. At the time, it was not in the hands of the stars but in the hands of American voters, at home and abroad. (The news reported that the American embassy in Delhi had a record voter turnout of 5,000, two and a half times more than usual.)

Meet The Maharaja

Posted: November 04, 2004

DAY 382: Baldel, the bearded old Indian man in the paisley shirt, greeted me with a smile and a wave like he did every morning I walked down the market area from the Evergreen Hotel. It was his way of telling me his cycle rickshaw services were available to me without being too pushy like the other cyclists.

“Hello, how are you?” I greeted him.

“How is your leg?” he asked. The day before he had brought me to the local hospital to get my leg checked out.

“It’s fine,” I told him, hopping into the carriage, no questions asked. “I need to go to the City Palace,” I instructed him. He had been there many a time before, it being one of the main tourist attractions in Jaipur. However I was going there not as a tourist but as a journalist. “I’m going to meet with the maharaja.”

Celebrities

Posted: November 08, 2004

DAY 383: I’m hoping that readers of The Blog don’t think they don’t have to travel on their own because they are simply traveling vicariously through me at their computers. Each journey is different for everyone — this is simply my story — events and emotions are based on many individual factors, including the time of the year you travel, your budget, the people you meet, and/or whether or not you perspire the smell of chicken soup. (You guys out there know who you are.) As we’ve learned on this Blog, appearance is a big factor — sometimes to one’s advantage, sometimes to one’s disadvantage. As I read one woman write, “Being an American female traveling alone in India is like being a walking aphrodesiac with a big sign over the top which says ‘FUCK HERE.’” [sic]

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