Sunday, November 4, 2007

Around the World

I'm sitting in my brother's attic in Tacoma with the rain pelting the skylight above my head, thinking back over this past year. I've had a lot of time to think this past month, as I'm recovering from mono and can't do much else other than look at photo's, read, and watch movies. It's a far cry from wandering from place to place, waking up to different sounds wafting in through the window, meeting strange and unusual people. Yes, these days are a bit more tame, but it's a transition time that allows for contemplation. Lately I've had a hard time figuring out how to put an end to this blog. I've had so many diverse experiences this year and to paraphrase or "sum it up" would be futile and redundant, not to mention boring as hell. I enjoyed sharing some stories though this site, and was glad to keep people up to date (relatively) throughout my so called adventure. I tried not to get too philosophical or wordy in my previous posts as I have a heart and a little modesty, but in this case I will make an exception, feel free to run if you get the urge. For those brave enough to read on, consider yourself warned, I've had nothing to do for a long time now. First of all I had a great time, that much is for sure. I saw some old friends, made some new ones, and shared some laughs with people I will never see again. I will cherish all of these memories for the rest of my life. Not many people choose to travel alone, and it's easy to presume the reasons for doing so. Was I really just being a bum, blowing a bunch of money for some thrilling but short lived good times? Or was I running from my life, my responsibilities? The most common preconception is that a traveller is trying to "find oneself". Those that are attempting to do this probably found out what I did fairly soon, life on the road is much like life in general. There are routines to be had if you want them. There can be stress, boredom, even work to go to if you don't watch out. I was lonely at times, missing friends and family, but also had the most exhilarating adventures of my life. Touring around from country to country is a learning experience you can't get from a book or the travel channel. I certainly had a brief encounter with a lot of cultures this year, 16 countries in all. I can't really say I "know" much about any of them sadly, but I was able to get a feeling for each place, soak in some of the pace of life, notice the little differences and commonalities. I know now where I would like to return and where I want to avoid, and I have noticed much higher scores on geography questions on Jeopardy, not that it gives me a chance against my mother, the Kung Fu master TV competition! One revelation I've had this past year was how little I know about MY OWN country, magnified by the fact that so much of the world is familiar with our culture. There's a lot to see out there, beautiful places, historical artifacts, the strange and grotesque, but if you try to see it all, your going to miss out. In the end, the important thing to me was the change in my perception of time. In the repetition of the working world I think we tend to forget how to use it, we condense it down and fill it up and think there is none but really we just let it pass us by. During the past year time seemed to fly, weeks seemed like days, every moment was "here and now". Time also slowed down, 20 minutes spent underwater seemed like hours, watching the sun set on the sea almost froze to a picture, and a first kiss seems like its still happening. Little of this has to do with place, and I didn't have to be travelling to experience them, but for some reason, the fact of being in a different place made me appreciate them more. I guess I felt more connected to my life this past year, and appreciated it more than I have in a long time. The other main aspect of this tramp around the world has to do with appreciating all that we have that others do not. I've seen poverty and sickness met with smiles and optimism, learned to squat over a hole without feeling funny about it, and had certain personal rights taken away for the first time. Not taking things for granted is how I've grown this past year, and I think anyone can use a dose of the facts of life every once in a while. So was it all worth it? The way I see it, if you have the option to try something when most don't, it would be a shame not too. So why not? I'm excited that I now know a smidgen of Mandarin, can drive a stick on the wrong side of the road, can describe the taste of my favorite Trappist bear, and can watch a Premiere League game and recognize a players name. I've read more books this year than in the past five and returned in the best shape of my life. Upon my return I have been so glad to see my friends in San Francisco and Seattle and spend Thanksgiving with my family knowing that I love this country. So I can't say that I have much to complain about with my around the world trip. Bryson describes travel as, "... a series of interesting guesses." I'm guessing this will not be the last time I travel, but I probably will never do anything quite like this again. For any interested, here are some links to the many movies I took this past year. There, the blog to end all blogs.
New Zealand
Oz
Australian Day Funny Dance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsSFW3RlspU
Thailand
Laos
Cambodia
Vietnam
Japan
Korea
China
Hong Kong
England
Scotland
Belgium
Germany
Austria
New York

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Mr. Ahlberg Goes to Washington

George wasn't home, but I did get to see my old college roommate Dedric. It was great to see him and he showed me around D.C. Now this was America, through and through. We went to a friends bar-b-q where talk revolved around baseball and football. I was definitely back. In college, Dedric and I used to just lay around and watch TV, usually while nursing hang overs. We felt inclined to reenact this scenario, spending my entire second day there watching Tennis on TV. It was great. The only thing we were missing was a little Mystery Science Theater 3000 and Dumb and Dumber. On Tuesday I walked every inch of the Mall and wore two holes in my feet. I really liked the new American Indian Museum and sunset at Arlington Cemetery. I think it was fitting and proper that I stop by here on my way home, reintroducing myself to my own history and culture after learning so much about other places and people. My first experience of the East coast was interesting to say the least, but I'm a West coast boy, so it was time to get myself home. Good night and good luck.

Start Spreading The News

America, home of the brave, home of the Ethan. I arrived at JFK and witnessed some crazy shit. The girl ahead of me in line got detained, then the lady in the line next to me got cursed out for crossing the yellow line too soon. All non-residents were having their finger prints scanned and mug shots taken. It was pretty welcoming. I was welcomed at the airport by my friends John and Allison Haselbauer, who whisked me off to their nice brownstone apartment in Brooklyn. We went out to a cool restaurant with a live band on the patio and had some beers as I regaled them with stories and got the low down on life in the big apple. The next day I went to the US Open, completing my personal grand slam minus the French. I saw a couple great matches and pictured Kramer as the ball man and George stuffing his face with ice cream. That night we had a bar-b-q in the back patio garden, then I was introduced to the Flight of the Concords, a great show featuring a couple of kiwi's. On Friday I met John at work in the afternoon and we wondered around the city. We checked out the Main Library, where we checked out the reading rooms and pictured Bill Murry and Dan Ackroid running down the steps after seeing a ghost. We had a snack in the park, then went to Grand Central Station, where I reminisced on when Matthew Broderick arrived for a unexpected adventure in The Freshman. We then stopped by the Seagram Building for a drink at the bar. After chatting for 10 minutes I realized that we had a heaping bowl of hard boiled eggs in front of us. I didn't know what to say or do. I finally stuffed a couple in my pocket and asked for the bill. We proceeded to the MOMA where we discovered it was free Friday, and made it past the line nazi with our eggs. We met up with Allison there, and basically embarrised her as we took pictures of our eggs and moon walked all over that house of art. We walked through Rockefeller Center as the sun was setting, then went out for Indian in the Village, ending our night with a drink at KGB. We started my last day with bloody Mary's on the patio, then beer and hot dogs for brunch. Walked over the Brooklyn Bridge and past Ground Zero and all the conspiracy freaks. Hopped the subway to Central Park, which was wonderful, and also the location where Rick Moranis was attacked by an evil dog in Ghostbusters. In about an hour and a half we saw out of control kids on roller blades, a UFO, a crazy singing Indian ( http://www.skthoth.com/splashpage/ ), a kid brain himself on the Alice in Wonderland statue, and had a drink at the Boathouse. We ran by the Guggenheim and saw all the scaffolding, then went to Washington Square to see the real freaks. Then we met up with friends Cat and Brad for a few drinks at some local watering holes. New York is great and so diverse it didn't really feel like I was in the states. It was really cool to see my friends in their new life out there.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Munich Calling

Back to Bayern, land of beers, and the start of this European vacation. I met up with one Miss Claudia again, who had arranged for me to stay in a nice apartment that her friend had vacated for the week! We went to the castle and I did a water color, we met up for drinks with her crew, and the highlight was when Claudia surprised me by suggesting that I forget to return a couple of beer glasses to the beer garden......I was feeling kind of weird as I waited for my flight to New York. I don't know if it was the blues of a trip coming to a end, or the sight of so many stocky Bavarians in their leiderhosen. I think it was just weird to be in that airport, again. It seemed fitting to be there at the end of this trip, bookending my time in Europe with the same city. It was great to see a familiar face at the end, and had a great time in Europe, but I was honestly really looking forward to seeing friends and being back in the good ol US of A, after nine incredible months.

Friday, September 7, 2007

The Hills Are Alive

With the sound of Ethan coughing. Still feeling a bit ill, I wondered around the beautiful streets of Vienna and splurged on the famous Sacher Torte and a Vienna coffee at Cafe Sacher. They were sublime. I also checked out the museum dedicated to one Friedensreich Hundertwasser, the trippyest artists/architect this side of Gaudi. Spent one day walking around and then headed out to Salzburg, home of Mozart. Also home to the best break dancers I saw in Europe, and the Mozart balls are oh so good. I would have liked to spend more time in Austria, but I was getting that feeling again, that feeling that I had to get back to Deautchland.

Czech This Mutha Out

Prague used to be the hidden jewel of Europe. I therefore had high expectations. I also was looking forward to spending 4 days with Alex in cheap Eastern Europe! I arrived two days before her, and found myself once again hanging out with a group of crazy Irish, and we all know what that means. Hang overs. Also had a cool dude from Melbourne named Zane, a shy fella from Rio named Jr, and a ROTC grunt from the states in our merry room out in the middle of no where. Prague, alas, is kind of a shit hole. There, I said it. It has amazing architecture, this is true, and it can be cheap, but it also is the most touristy place I've been in Europe, worse than Paris, Rome, London, and its so much smaller it doesn't hold all the gawking tourists well. The nice parts of the city seemed overwhelmed. Then once you exit the main city center, it turns ugly real fast. All this being said, we did have a good time there, my expectations were just too high. I spent the majority of my time defending Jr to the Irish who couldn't comprehend a traveller who didn't drink. I unfortunately started to feel ill, which started when I borrowed one of Jr's cigarettes, that's thanks for ya. I had had enough of the hostel scene by the time I moved into the wonderful apartment Alex had found on the Internet. I met her at the airport with roses and a sign. (unfortunately, the little old Czech lady I asked to video the surprise forgot to press the button!). It was so nice to see my girl again after a long month of tramping around Europe, and we popped a bottle of champagne to celebrate our third country. We wandered the back alleys of Prague, poked our head into art galleries, took a paddle boat down the river, and lounged in our great pad over the next 3 days. We also took a day trip out to a little town with a nice old chateau and wondered around the lush grounds and lake. I also had a good time watching Alex attempt to walk in high heels on the cobble stone streets, even though she's taller than me when she wears them! She laughed when I read her my sad attempt at poetry, which I will now share with you......An Ode to the Cornish Game Hen
Who Believes in a Cornish Game Hen?
I do.
What would the world be minus the little savory birds of lore?
Poo, through and through.
I search every glen.
I peruse every pen.
I watch every fen, for your cozy den.
A tear just dropped on my pen.....
Skeptics scoff at my desire
When I defend you, it's preach'n to the choir.
They laugh, I cry inside
When they said I had lied.
Admittedly, this poem is rubbish.
Words can never convey
What I need to say.
You sound so delish
and in fact, would make a fine dish,
served with red wine from the box.
I'm diseased, with CGH pox.
Perhaps you went way of the Dodo?
The mere thought is a low blow.
So we had a brief but wonderful rendezvous in Prague, but then had to say goodbye again, which seems to be what we do best. I miss her.

Bach & The Tralfamadorians

................................................................................................I hit Leipzig for a day to take in some culture and possibly sell my soul to the devil. Turns out my soul ain't worth all that much these days, but I did visit the vast and echo filled Communist designed Museum der Bildenden Kunste, once I found it no thanks to an erroneous map. I have never felt so small as when I reached up to grab the door handle to the monolithic doors of the museum. Let me repeat, I REACHED UP TO OPEN THE DOORS!. The spaces were huge and mostly empty, but I did get a good cross section of art history as I wondered around. The stairs from floor to floor were 52 steps, so I got in a good work out as well. After walking around the town I took in a donor kebab and hit the sack. The next day I stopped by the scene where the American bombers massacred an entire city of civilians. As luck would have it, I showed up just in time for the biggest summer festival I have ever seen. The entire rebuilt old town was filled with stages, bars, food stalls, and lively Germans drinking and singing. I wondered around and checked out the church with its recovered melted cross, and had a few beers myself. It was then that I realized something about Germans. No matter how diverse a people this culture has, they have one thing in common, they love to smash glass. To purchase a beer, you have to pay a deposit for the glass of about 50 cents. This does little to deter the drunk Deutchlander of doing what he loves best. Down that Pils and smash the vessel into tiny bits and laugh. It looked like it might be a cathartic exercise, but I just couldn't bring myself to join in. I loved Dresden, it was a beautiful smallish city with a lot of character and cool neighborhoods.

Bauhaus - Less is More

........................................................................Had to do it, a little architectural pilgrimage to the "heart and soul" of modernism. Gropius, Klee, Kandinsky, Van der Rohe, and now Ahlberg. As I passed the Abfahrt sign at the train station, I had low expectations, picturing Dessau as a rugged industrial town and the Bauhaus being run down and dirty. So I was pleasantly surprised to see a nice un-touristy town and a newly renovated modern gem set in a nice campus setting. The sweetest part however, was I was staying in one of the dorm rooms, which was a huge studio apartment furnished with nice modern furniture and complete with its own iconic little balconies overlooking the entire town and the Saxon countryside! I took the tour which unfortunately is not offered in English, then did a water color and thought about how ahead of their time these folks were. Now I'm no die hard modernist, and honestly think that a lot of their thinking was brutal and unrealistic, but the Bauhaus building is quite nice, and the idea of bringing together all the crafts and arts under one roof was a great idea. Also went and checked out the Meisterhauser around the corner, which were not as nice. The best part of the whole experience, I must say, was the kick ass shower, best of the whole trip for sure. And I needed one bad too.

Saturday, September 1, 2007

Swamp City Pub Crawl

........................................................................It's famous on the backpacking circuit, the Berlin pub crawl. After a long and rainy free city walking tour, I was ready for some German beer. There was about 200 people stumbling down the streets on this "tour", totally out of control. Met a couple cool fellas from Perth and talked to a dude from Bombay for a while. Also talked to a guy who had grown up in East Berlin. His memory of the wall coming down was how he didn't have to go to school for the entire next year because of all the chaos. Best place was a club under the railroad tracks. Don't remember much else, but from then on, when ever I met someone who had been to Berlin, they were sure to have also participated in the crawl. Berlin is a great city. I spent 5 nights there checking out the museums, monuments, and just kicking it in the many parks and beer gardens. I really liked the sand sculpture garden then had set up by the train station, amazing. I was rooming with three guys from Baltimore who were funny as hell, and a couple girls from Napoli who never went to bed. I tried speaking Italian to them but they would just laugh. I made fun of them for how many pairs of shoes they traveled with (at least 7 pairs each). Had one crazy night with the Americans doing our own pub crawl. Ended up hanging out late night at this empty bar with a bar tender who was the spitting image of the Jane's Addiction singer. He liked us and played us some Jimi Hendrix because we were Americans. Berlin never sleeps, and has possibly the most interesting mix of old and new Architecture in Europe, even though most of it was leveled in the war. What was amazing to me was the blurring of the boundary of east and west, and how long ago the reunification seems. Now you can take your picture with guy in a bear costume in from of the Brandenburg Gate while you envision Kennedy or Reagan denouncing communism. I was exposed to so much history there.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

The Ahlberger in the Hamburger

......................................................................I had successfully escaped Holland without seeing any gratuitous sex or drugs, only to end up in Hamburg`s notorious Reeperbahn, the longest alley of ill repute in the WORLD! Had met some Irish lads in the hostel who went to school with a girl from Hamburg, and we met up with her down there to go out for the evening. We also had Ashly, a fella from Texas, and Sonny, a Chinese Australian in our crew. The girl suggested we start our Hamburg "experience" by doing some window shopping in one of the brothels. I felt inclined to join the tour, just for journalistic reasons, so I could report back to you. It was strange to say the least. Strolling down these dark hallways and meeting girls at their doorways. The typical story for groups like us was they would put us all in a room and give us a lesbian show before each would split up with their own girl for half an hour. 50 Euro. 100 Euro for kinky stuff. Not my cup of tea really. I asked one who was busy swatting fly's in her room (not the best sales strategy) if she would spank another girl her fly swat for 5 euro. 50 EURO for anything! These girls were unionized and not negotiating. It was all really rather depressing, and I think we all couldn't wait to get out of there. As we were walking out I saw one guy getting turned away by the bouncers for being too fat. How sad! We went to some interesting bars and clubs after that lovely introduction, and had a good time. I always have a good time with the Irish it seems. Also ran into another American who was there supporting his brother who was playing in an American football exhibition there. There were a lot of 1 euro beer places that we frequented as well, one of which had a bar tender who had no teeth, other than a few little black stumps. I take back all I've said about the British :) The next day was beautiful and I wondered around the two big lakes and river that surround the city center, and checked out the historic port. Hamburg, much like Amsterdam, is an incredibly beautiful, vibrant, livable city once you get past the sorted section. I really liked it there. But I was hung over and felt the need to press on to the Capitol. http://picasaweb.google.com/ethan.ahlberg/Hamburg

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Holland, NOT Amsterdam

Literally the SECOND I entered Dutch territory I saw someone wearing clogs, its was incredible! I decided to stay away from Amsterdam`s red lights and smoke and focus on the real dutch society, which involves lots and lots of mayonnaise. Rotterdam dubs its self the city of architecture, but I have to say it doesn`t hold a torch to Dusseldorf. In fact, there really isn`t all that much to see in Rotterdam except a huge bridge. I was in the hostel bar having a beer when I met a strange British chap. He looked like the bald shy character in the Cusack film high fidelity, and as it seems to be my curse, had a speech impediment. (4 people on trip). His was of a unique nature however. He would state a complete sentence fine, usually with a supreme look of consternation on his face, but them follow it up with the EXACT same sentence. He was like a broken record! Above and beyond that, he was just a strange cat. He had spent a couple months trying to get a English teaching gig in Berlin without success, I WONDER WHY? He had spent two years in Osaka teaching English before being let go. He couldn`t fathom why. I asked him if he learned any Japanese and he said no, none! While we were discussing this a woman from Australia chimed in that she had been to Japan as well. Her name was Terese and she had recently turned 50. She had been traveling for about 3 years and had just completed 10 weeks of walking the pilgrimage tour from France to Spain. It sounded amazing. She was really an incredible lady, she was divorced and her daughter was now 26 and working, so she figured why not? She had traveled through SE Asia, USA and Canada, India, Morocco, Syria, Jordan, and Iran. Now she was going through Europe and would take the Trans-Siberian train back to China and head to India again via Tibet and Nepal before going home. I was inspired on so many levels. We had a great couple nights chatting about our common experiences and where we would like to go, all the while with the broken record player sitting by and offering comments like, "Well, you two are just WORLD travelers, just WORLD travelers." I had been thinking about the end of my trip. I had always considered this kind of thing to be a once in a lifetime deal, and thus had been cramming a lot in while wishing to take it slower. Now I had new resolve to continue to travel if I wanted to, and to always remember, there is always another trip to be had, even if this one was nearing its end. I think Teresa was my favorite person I met in Europe, and for sure the best thing about Rotterdam. I also took a day trip to Den Haag and Delft. Den Haag was nicer than Rotterdam, but still just a big city. The MC Esher museum was great, and I some good fish at a road side stand. Delft was great, one of my favorite European towns. A lot like Ghent but smaller. I got there too late to hit the Vermeer museum but had a nice walk through town as the church bells rang for an hour straight, then had a nice cheap pasta and beer next to one of the picturesque canals that criss cross the town. I could have spent another day or two in Delft, but I was feeling that urge again, that urge to head back to Deautchland!

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Goin Back to Deutchland, to Deutchland, to

Deutchland. Took a train up the Rhine to Cologne, or Köln, city of the huge cathedral, stopping at Trier along the way for a few hours to take in some Roman ruins. Köln cathedral is a whopper, no doubt, and I had a nice view of those twin spires from my bed through the window each morning. Spent three nights there while taking day trips to Aachen and Dusseldorf. Remember dorf on golf anyone. Anyway, had a good time in the area. Becoming a fan of day trips. All three of these western German cities were great, full of activity and beer gardens along the river. There was some great architecture including a cool tear drop shaped department store in Köln and a great housing complex by Gehry in Dusseldorf. I met a cool Canadian in the hostel who was very worried about my diseased chicken stories from Thailand. He was in pre-med and we discussed bird flu and how we most likely will be screwed at some point in the near future. So I decided to go to Aachen and pray to Charlemagne´s grave, then took in a hot springs spa in a really cool building set around roman ruins. Feeling pure I was ready to head north to Holland.
http://picasaweb.google.com/ethan.ahlberg/CologneAachenAndDusseldorf

Its a Grand Duchery

On to Luxembourg, land of the royal family. One out of every two post cards in Luxembourg features either the Duke, or the Duke and his entire extended family. The capital city is maybe the most beautiful city I have ever seen. It rises up on a great rock, perched there like a sand castle, and was known as the most fortified city in North Europe for many years. You cross all these bridges over a deep gorge to get to the old part of the city, which of course is full of pristine architecture, vast parks, and many, many places to get food and drink. I took a day trip up to Vienten, a little town out of a fairy tale. Explored the great castle up on the top of a cliff overlooking a river and hiked around in the woods for a spell, no pun intended.

So this kid took a piss

Brussels, the city with the manikin piss, the homage to a boy taking care of his business, what a concept. Turns out he was a boy scout as well. I spent two days in Brussels where I met a guy from Kansas of all places. Also checked out the Victor Hugo museum, one of his best buildings, then on to Ghent for a couple days, one on my favorite cities. The canals and church spires were very picturesque. This is where I met Bart, a kid from Rotterdam who dropped out of high school to deal drugs. He was there with his folks, and he told me he make 3 times his dad does per month in a week. He was a big fan of South Park and telling racist jokes, was kind of weird to be stuck in a dorm with him and his family. On to Antwerp for a day, then finished off visiting Bastogne, the area of the Battle of the Bulge in WWII. The beer and chocolate are hard to beat in Belgium. I really liked the Trappist beers, brewed by monks, so its got to have some beneficial side effects. At least that's my story. Belgium was a good starting point for venturing back into the world of backpacking. Layed back, lots to see and do, and really easy to get around.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Salsa-Gate 2007

Road trip number two. Heading up north Yorkshire way to Scotland, the land of my for bearers. At this point, Alex and I were camping experts, but there was much flooding in the region, and the added complication that once you get past, lets say Nottingham, they speak another language. Luckily, as you proceed north and the words get progressively more unintelligible, the people also get more and more friendly. Its a perfect correlation. Our first stop was Sherwood Forest for lunch. I saw no men in tights, but did see the old tree where Mr. Hood used to hide out. (please picture Arrow Flynn, not Kevin Costner). I thought I might try my luck at pick pocketing to really get into the spirit, and continue the reign of terror, but Alex talked me out of it. We continued on to York, possibly my favorite large English town. The Abbey was fantastic, the best stained glass yet, very subdued and seemed to be glowing rock rather than painted glass. The little lanes were great, and we took the ghost tour which was actually really scary. Our camp site for two nights was unfortunately really damp, lets say completely saturated, being in the flood zone of the river, but we made do. Also went up a little town called Whitby, known for being the town where Dracula was written and partially set. There were a few Goth kids running around, but mainly little old ladies (Dracule?) One of them caught us kissing and growled at us to,"Oh grow up!" We decided Whitby wasn't for us, so drove down the coast to Robin Hoods Cove, a great little hamlet along the cliffs of the sea. Highlight was when I trounced a certain British girl in a race up the hill. On to Edinburgh, pronounced Edinbuurah, (I think). What makes this place so cool is the massive rock that juts up out of no where, the perfect perch for one of the ugliest castles you'll ever see. It also happens to be a castle that has been taken quite easily over the course of time, but nonetheless, its a damn impressive sight. We met some cool Canadian people on the bus into town one night and put them to shame on the dance floor at a club later that night. Explored the High Street, which is teaming with Tartan (plaid) shops and such, but also seems to be partially owned by my clan, the Campbell's! Our coat of arms bearing a savage looking boar was all over the place! Seeing this I got a little cocky and started to strut around, Mic Jagger like, till I tripped over a cobble. I also braved haggis, which wasn't bad, just a bit gristly. On the way back to the bus, I went into a Mexican restaurant and begged for some salsa. I think they some the crazed look in my eye, so they gave me a whole cup full! I was giddy as a school girl and was proclaiming the Scots as the most giving people on earth when the bus driver wouldn't let us on the bus with the cup! I tried to explain that although there may be a rule, that surely he could understand that in spirit it was meant to stop hot beverages from scalding people, and not from people bringing home a bit of dinner, but to no avail. There was no way I was leaving my FREE salsa on the side of the road for anyone to find. I was getting off that bus! (reminds me of the time I left a half eaten burrito in the City Hall council chambers of San Francisco, something I have always regretted). To add insult to injury, we had already paid, and he refused to give our money back! This, of course, meant war. We sat fuming on the bus stop, munching on salsa, plotting our revenge. The plan was simple, we were going to smuggle salsa onto a Scottish city bus or die trying. Well, we did, and I'm sure I'm on some most wanted list up there by now. From there Alex had to go back home to work, but I continued on to Inverness to witness the legendary Highland Games. The looks on these colossal peoples faces as they hurtled immense objects into the sky was a never ending source of hilarity for me, I don't think I've ever had so much muffled laughter. They had a couple old guys in kilts wired up to speakers to announce the events, or just ramble on about god knows what. They were classic and wee bit sarcastic about the whole thing, which I fully appreciated. I mean, a bunch of the largest men on the planet running around in skirts holding telephone poles, its hard to take seriously. The low light was a leaky tent, nothing worse then waking up in a puddle. After two days up at the top of the island, I headed back to the civility of Suffolk. Two day later I found myself on a plane bound for Brussels. I had the best time in England, and as hard as it was to leave, as I write this I'm about to see Alex again (after a month). http://picasaweb.google.com/ethan.ahlberg/YorkshireAndScotland

Friday, August 10, 2007

Cornwall Reign of Terror

Road tripping to the southwest of England. Hopped in the car (Nora), and with the help of GPS with a sexy voice (Brenda), and made it without getting too lost. Cornwall is beautiful area, exactly what I always pictured England to be like. Rolling hills lined with hedgerows, cris crossed by tiny lanes that wind their way through gullies and thickets of trees. Its a quaint, simple world out there. They had no idea what havoc Alex and I would unleash. We snuck into the back doors of Cathedrals to escape the fee, we pulled Jedi mind tricks on poor camp site owners, we finagled free tea and even got paid to dine on a huge cream tea feast. Our camping trip lasted 8 nights, and it rained practically the entire time. England. We checked out Bath, a pristine city full of Georgian architecture, highlighted by the kitchen museum and Sally Lunn`s hot buns. On to Camelot and the most beautiful sunset. On the way we stopped at copious quantities of castles, all in different states of ruin. We partook in a plethora of Cornish pasty`s, cream tea`s, and fudge. I had my first proper fish and chips, sitting in a fogged up car in a torrential downpour, the only way to enjoy that amount of vinegar. Down near lands end, we toured the island castle of St. Michael`s Mount, where I got yelled at for taking pictures. Finally, in Devon on the way back, the highlight of the trip was a night in the hamlet of BEER. The coup de grace was the Donkey Sanctuary we happened upon, they do good work there, for a unappreciated cause, I pledge to spread the word. Finally, a quick stop outside of some big rocks that some druids erected a while back, and we were safely back in a warm house in Bury. The tent had been a good home to us, cooking pesto pasta, chili, or stir fry, and drinking the goon. It was a wonderful time. Oh, and I failed in my attempt to capture and devour a real life Cornish game hen, but they do exist, no matter how many people laugh and mock me in my belief! (Alex)

Friday, August 3, 2007

They Some Tea Drink'n Mutha Fucka's

And yes, there is an inordinate amount of rain, and a disproportionately high case of the snaggle tooth, and did I mention that the mutha fucka's love their mutha fuckin tea? Crikey! But all this being said, I loved my month in jolly ol England, it was like returning to the mothership. I even gave one of those red coats a good natured tar and featherin just for old times sake. But first, my dad and I had a mission, get to Wimbledon without getting bombed. Seemed easier said than done at one point, as the first car bomb dud was mere blocks away from our hotel in Westminster. I just kept thinking it would be damn ironic to be blown to smithereens on my first day in Britain, considering all I went through to get there. But the true test would be no mere assassins, no, but could two Americans successfully navigate a que, and we're not talking just any que, but the mother of all ques? I had my doubts, buy Pa was not daunted in the least. Alighting off the train in Wimbledon Park, we found not one, but two ques, blimey, what were we to do? I`ll tell you what we did, we headed towards the back of the line. Man did we get a good talking too by one of the many que patrolmen on duty that day! We had to get into the other que, the one that ques to get into the real que. At first, I did not understand the purpose of calling it two ques, and why not just call it a line now that I mention it. I found out later. I must say, they do keep good care of the poor souls who can`t afford to buy tickets in advance to this prestigious event, we got free tea, free yogurt things, and to top it all off, a free sticker that proclaimed us as queing veterans of Wimbledon! I didn`t feel like a expert quer yet, but I wore my sticker and stuck out my chest. That's when all hell broke loose. First one, then many of the que patrolmen, most of whom were about 80 years old, started yelling, "We are about to move the que, BUT DON`T MOVE YET!" This was repeated with growing intensity for about 3 minutes, they seemed to be stalling. I overheard one of them mention they needed to wait for Bill, that they couldn`t move the que without him. But we were getting antsy. "Don`t move yet!" I couldn't`t help myself, "Can we move now?" "NO!" "How bout now?" "There will be no moving until ordered too!" I just didn`t understand, and felt unworthy of my dark green sticker, so I threw it off in disgust. I mean, even in England, its a matter of one foot ahead of the other, right? That's when we started to move, sideways! The real line, which had slowly disappeared round the bend, left a vacant spot, which we were now so cleverly taking advantage of, thus becoming the new, real que! Brilliant! Anyway, we got in and saw about three matches and overheard a Tim Henman match. Was cool to check out the grass, and the pomp, but honestly it paled in comparison the the Australian Open. Just not enough drinking going on. The next couple days I spent up in Edmond St. Bury with Alex, met her family, and then rendezvoused with dad again to check out Cambridge and Oxford. At Oxford we met an old guy on the bus who looked like Mr. Bean. He had been a student of JRR Tolkien, and gave us some great in site into the man. We also checked out his grave and old house, but best of all, the pub where he and CS Lewis used to hang, the Bird and Baby they call it. A couple of great site seeing days in London with dad and then he was off back home. That's when Alex and I took off on our camping trip to Cornwall, and my personal quest began, the search for the mythical Cornish Game Hen.

Fancy an interrogation? Cup a tea? My ARSE!

That's right, the moment I set foot in Stansted airport I was whisked into detention straight away. Why? Why not? I had grown accustomed to the attention, and after being virtually ignored in Munich, it was about time someone showed some interest, I'm Ethan freakin Ahlberg for Pete's sake! This time, I filled out the same forms, got me thumb prints and mug shot taken, again, and was offered an American version of the pamphlet outlining my utter lack of rights by a sarcastic pom. Funny that! Next I got my bags searched. Then I got comfortable and enjoyed an entire film centered around the battle of Waterloo. The bloke playing Napoleon was well good. Finally, after about three hours, the questioning began. The gentleman across the desk from me was very serious and he made sure he had all the facts. We went through the story, and I showed him all my evidence proving how good a tourist I could be if just given the chance. Then he went to go call my dad. I waited, sat, waited some more, and after another hour, he came back. What I don't understand Ethan, is why do you want to come to the UK so bad? I mean your risking a lot, and obviously went to a lot of effort to get in this time, so I'm curious, there are a lot of great countries in Europe after all. I looked him dead in the eye, and spoke from the heart. This has been the best year of my life sir, and I had always dreamed of the grand finale being England. I have spoken with a lot of people over the last three weeks, and they all told me this would not be a big risk, and I really would like to see my dad, and go to Wimbledon with him, this seems like our best chance to ever do that. But mostly, I wanted to clear my name in all honesty, and I hope if I am let in this time, this can all be in the past. Somehow, it worked. I was given a month visa in the glorious UK. I was a free man! In a daze, I stumbled out through the gate, and there to surprise me was Alex, it was like that famous picture of the sailor returning home from WWII and kissing the first girl he saw. It was an out of body experience.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Munich-Give me your tired, your poor.....

...............................................................................and Ethan, we'll take him too! Oh yeah, after two weeks of hand wringing, talking to British, American, and German Embassies, and a lawyer (a free one), I decided to give it a go and visit my friend Claudia in Munich. Seemed like a good strategy. I got my ticket moved to be out of Munich as well, and a letter from Miss Claudia affirming my story, and a letter from my old firm, saying I had a job, and bank statements, credit card statements, inoculation records, and proof of insurance. I virtually had to get another suit case just for my evidence, I was going to prove I was the best tourist these Germans had ever seen! Then the long flight, longer this time, through Dubai with a wonderful 4 hour lay over. I can't tell you how hard my heart was racing as I neared the immigration desk in Munich, the third time I had been to that airport in two weeks! The man took my passport, asked me, "on holiday?" "Yes" "How long?" I fly home in a month." Ok! He flipped through the passport looking for a place to stamp, damn, it was too full! I almost started to explain before he got to the last page with the dreaded stamp, but then he did, and flipped on, but then back, took a second look, then back to another page and stamp, I'm in! I couldn't believe it! I almost felt let down, I had put so much hard work in, someone should hear the speech I had written! I would soon regret these thoughts, but for now, I was on my European Vacation! First stop, Beer Garden!
Claudia showed me a great four days in Munich, a city I love. We were able to borrow a bike from her godmother, and we spent most of our time cruising around seeing the sites in the perfect Bavarian summer weather. It seemed like that was the mode of transportation for half the city, something I would have expected in Beijing or Hanoi perhaps, but not in Europe. The weather was so nice it was the perfect way to appreciate the city, perfect that is, until I happened to glance over one fine morning to witness about five buck naked guys in the park, lounging, chatting, picking apples from trees, you know, typical. The shock of it almost sent me careening into the river on the other side of the path, but luckily, I righted the ship and made it out of there with my eyes closed. I could hear Claudia laughing at my conservative American sensibilities, which I used to guide me. Speaking of the river, just after that incident, I witnessed one of the cooler things I've ever seen, river surfing! Ja, right where the river passes under a bridge, a big rip current creates a permanent wave that about five surfers in wet suits were making full use of, it was incredible! Claudia was such a good tour guide, and at the end of each day, she would go drop me off at her flat and head over to her boyfriend, Jurg`s place. Then, each morning, Miss Claudia would show up with fresh Bavarian bagels, cheese, and cold cuts and make me coffee for breakfast, wonderbar! I was also able to see my old friend Eva on her birthday, at least her birthday bar-b-q. The highlight of that night was seeing a bunch of German girls dancing on a table to Kyle Minolge. Reminded me of the night I had spent dancing in a hut outside of Sapa, Vietnam to the same tune, same same, but different. On my last day we caught a ride out to one of the beautiful lakes that surround Munich with a couple of Claudia's friends. Pulling into the parking lot at the park, a guy sitting on a folding chair charged us to park. Now I was taken aback, because if I hadn't known better, I would have sworn he was from White River with his amazing mullet and sleeveless tartan flannel zip up. Claudia must have seen me gawking because she asked me later if I had people like this back in the states. I replied that I had just been appreciating his style, and I guess you can find hicks just about anywhere. The lake was huge and framed by the Alps in the distance, not too bad. I layed there getting burned thinking that it couldn't get much better, thats when Claudia's friends took their tops off. Claudia abstained, said she didn't want to hurt my fragile sensibilities. People must have thought I was the luckiest man in the world surrounded by three gorgeous half naked women, or more likely that I was their gay friend. That's OK though, I'll be their gay friend any day. Before I knew it, I had to say goodbye to my Bavarian friend and tour guide, had to escape the sun for the cloud otherwise known as the UK. I was again armed with my bag O evidence, and felt more confident that I would get in admitted this time around. I was also really looking forward to the opportunity to see my dad, who was in London on business. This turned out the be quite fortuitous indeed.

The Fugitive Strikes Back

I had been up for close to 60 hours when I found myself in the holding tank in Hong Kong International Airport. This waiting room was packed to the brim with a vast array of people who looked nothing like me. I was getting sick of the stares. A group of Pakistanis just got split up, three young men were being escorted out while the father, wearing traditional baggy pants and gold slippers paced around holding a baby. His two daughters follow, hanging on his shirt tails. The older daughter is violently shaking from sporadic sobs that she is desperately trying to hold back, the younger girl, with equally captivating dark puppy dog eyes, seems unfazed by her surroundings. She calmly follows the procession, fiddling with an orange plastic bag that matches her woolly orange sweater she would never need in Hong Kong. Filling out the room, there are a number of mainland Chinese, a couple from Columbia, and a smattering of swarthy eastern Europeans. That's until the door opens and in comes the elderly German with his young Colombian wife, yelling and cursing. Now things were getting real entertaining! "This is crazy, I've been coming to China for forty years! I demand an explanation, who do you think you are!" They finally sit down next to the Colombian couple and start speaking their native tongue. The old German speaks fluently. I was skeptical that this was a mere coincidence, so I kept my ears pricked, after all, it had been two hours, and I had nothing else to do. All the yelling and screaming had some effect on the immigration staff, who SHARED the same room as us detainees while they worked. Interviews were conducted in little enclaves to the right that afforded zero privacy, so when they called for the German, ahead of all of us who had been there for at least two hours, we all listened in. The interview was conducted in English, and before the IO had a chance to speak, the German starts cracking jokes. "Do you know how crazy this is? I've been coming to this country since BEFORE you were born, I know a lot of people here. Why, why does such a small country try to do this, I travel the world, never anything like this." He seemed guilty as sin to me, but what I thought didn't matter. The IO, who had a bad case of acne, would just laugh and laugh and play mister nice guy, playing along, for a while. "So this is your wife, THIS is YOUR wife?! How long have you been married? A year! Your still on your honeymoon! Honeymoons should last longer, ha ha ha, but you still in love! So why only two days in Hong Kong, you should take your WIFE out shopping! HA ha ha." This whole scene was REALLY pissing the rest of us off, I mean why the special treatment, this guy was probably a NAZI for Christs sake! This back and forth ass kissing lasted about five minutes, then they were let out, Scott free! I guess this guy did have some friends somewhere, or maybe this was going to be easier than I thought? That's when things really got weird. The Colombian couple was up next in line, and didn't speak a lick of English, so naturally, our now happy kraut stayed on as their interpreter! Free o charge! I couldn't believe how informal this all was, the DMV has more rigor. The German goes into the same routine again, seemingly the only one talking. Meanwhile, the Pakistani procession just passed me, and some of the Eastern Europeans are starting to get rowdy and complain. Meanwhile, I get called by another IO for my interview, damn, was hoping to yuk it up with the other dude. My interview went smoothly. I just told the truth, leaving out the working bit, and based it all on money. I had been able to withdraw 300 Euro's before getting in line at immigration, so I showed him the Hong Kong money I had showed up in London with, and showed him all the money I had now. He was impressed, that's a lot of money to spend in the city. I told him I didn't want to stay in Hong Kong, and would immediately either go back to Europe if I could, or go home. His only follow up question was a tricky one, "OK, if your an Architect, then I assume you went to University right? Which one!" The University of Washington in Seattle. OK, I have no problem with you, I'll stamp you in for six months! I was in baby! Now what to do?

Thursday, July 26, 2007

The Fugitive

The following tale is not for the faint of heart, as it is the most harrowing experience of my life, one I will never forget. I arrived in London Heathrow airport about 8am, after an eight hour flight to Munich, a two hour lay over, and another two hour flight. The line at immigration was long, and I drifted into a day dream. I was supposed to take the tube out to the other side of the city, to Epping, to meet up with my friend Alex, of Thailand blog fame. I missed her......I woke out of my Thailand dream sequence with just a few people to go in line. I scanned the row of counters, looking for someone nice looking. I spotted her, the Muslim girl two desks over, hopefully, I would get her. I did. I handed her my passport and entry form. She asked me where I was staying, I said I didn't know (Alex had alluded to getting a B&B somewhere for the night, but I didn't know where). The IO didn't like this answer, 'you have to tell me where your staying!' Well, I'm meeting my friend who lives out near Cambridge, and staying with her. 'How long are you here for?' 'I think I'll stay for about three weeks' At this point, I was finally waking up a bit, and realizing how angry this woman was staring me down. How long have you been traveling? About six months. How can you pay for that? With my savings. How can you afford that, do you have a job? Actually, I'm between jobs. How much money do you have? I told her. Do you have any proof of this? I'm sorry, I don't. How much money do you have on you? I realized that I only had 200 hong kong dollars on me, not much. Well, this isn't looking very good! Why not? Well, if I went to YOUR country looking the way I do, with those answers I would be arrested! Sit down, I'm detaining you! Wow, that was fast. I just sat down, stunned. I had been to so many border crossings in the past year, and had never had any problem with the same answers, I had been lulled to sleep I guess by all the informality over there. I was sure that this would be no big deal though, hopefully they would just check my account or something. As I sat there, Fernando Gonzales, the tennis player I had seen at the Australian Open, and had rooted for with my friend from Chile in Sydney, Nicholas, walked by me. Guess he had lost in the French. I thought about yelling out a good "Vamos!", but thought better of it. Eventually, a guy who looked like a cleaned up version of Ali G came and brought me back to a holding room. He was very nice and tried to make me calm. I just have to search your bags, and finger print you. This is just a formality, I'm sure its no problem. That's when I remembered, I had last second, about 10 hours ago, slipped a piece of paper regarding my Hong Kong work into my bag! Idiot! I had a sinking sensation as he started to go though the papers, email, email.....those are just directions to my friends house....maybe he would miss it.....but no, so whats this, you worked Hong Kong? Yes, I did. OK. Then mug shots, and the took every fingerprint. Then just left my bag in the hall and checked me into the holding tank which was a waiting room with a guard behind glass. I was seriously worried now. I waited and waited. There was only one other person in the room with me, a young girl from Venezuela. We smiled at each other but didn't talk. Then the pay phone started ringing. For some reason, I decided to pick it up. Oh my God, whats happening? It was Alex. Apparently, my Muslim friend had been on the phone grilling her this whole time. Asking all kinds of very personal questions. What a situation, to be stuck, completely helpless to defend yourself. That's when my IO came back for my interview. We went to a smaller room and sat down at a table. She just had a note pad and wrote down each question before she asked it, then my response. We basically went through the same questions, but greater detail about my plans, and my relationship with the person called Alex. It was unnerving. Then the issue about work. Were you able to work? I was led to believe I was. Back in the holding tank, I finally ate a free sandwich and had a crap coffee. Then I went and asked if I could get to my bag, I needed a smoke. Sure, the lady in the bubble was very nice. Then I chatted up the girl from Venezuela. She was there visiting her boyfriend. She was putting on a strong face, but I could tell how scared she was. Hours pass. Alex would call to check in every once in a while, and she was doing everything she could to help. Eventually however, I got the news, I was being denied entry to the UK, and was booked on the next flight back to Honk Kong. I had screwed up, and now had to face being escorted onto a plane, like a criminal, and sitting through the exact same 12 hour flight I had just finished. I desperately pleaded with the bubble lady to speak to the head IO, the man who had signed my death warrant. Eventually, he came in, not in a good mood. Well? I just want to know what this means, can I never come back here? Can I travel with this on my record? What will happen to me in Hong Kong? Well, this doesn't have any bearing on any future entry to any country, you aren't being deported, that would be different. Your not being granted leave to enter this country, that's all this means. I don't know and honestly don't care what you do in Hong Kong, go work there for all I care. Thanks. I had time to kill, and just kept on re-playing all the events of the last 24 hours in my head. How did it come to this? Then my friend in holding got her news, also negative. She broke down. I can't go back there, you don't know what they will do to me! I tried my best to console her. There is a certain camaraderie that is formed when in the pen. While I patted her on the shoulder and told her it was going to be OK through her sobs, I was hit with an epiphany. As bad as this was for me, it was worse for her. I am actually lucky, some people have to deal with this all the time, being accused, having to defend yourself, being discriminated against, its easy to say you could deal with it, but until you have, you don't know what its like. I did notice that her IO seemed much friendlier than mine, and decided to grab the opportunity. Excuse me, I know your not familiar with my case, but could I please ask you a question? Sure. What is going to happen to me in Hong Kong? They will probably send you home. The guard who was to be my escort couldn't wait to talk to me. I couldn't believe it was true, an American being sent back, wow, this, like never happens. Thanks man, that really helps. Ah, don't worry, you will be fine. So where are you from? I actually had the most pleasant conversation with my guard as we went through security, by passing everyone in line. I have no idea what people thought, but if they thought I was some kind of killer, or big time smuggler, so be it, at this point, I was relishing the role. Finally, at the gate, my buddy gave the ticket to the captain, and we said goodbye. Hey, have fun at that wedding, give your brother my best I yelled as I was given priority status for boarding. The perks you get once your a fugitive! I settled into my seat, and looked out the window. I was 6 months into a trip around the world, and the adventure was just beginning. To be continued...

Hong Kong Fuey!

............................................................................................................At long last, jungle boy writes again. At least that's how Kenny Chow refers to me, and how he introduces me as well for that matter. Thanks Kenny. I arrived in Hong Kong via the night bus from Yangshao (12 hrs) on May 23rd, over two months ago! Said bus ride was the worse night of my life, and I swear I will never take a night bus to Hong Kong again. To begin with, the so called bed I was promised was on a slant, and not long enough. This was compounded by the fact that at the end of what was effectively a slide, was an ingeniously fashioned torture device I will dub the toe pinch. See, in order to cram more sardines into this tin can, the beds were over-lapped utilizing a plastic foot pincher that doubled as a foot cozy for the person behind, and a head rest for the person in front. This diamond hard plastic is molded into a wave shape in section, producing a convex 'back breaker' on one side, and leaving a convex curve that plots its way to an infinitely small, we're talking calculus small point between the floor at ones feet. This is where our friend gravity takes over. When I first prostrated myself on the 'bed', I found that with the right positioning and a bit of zen focus, I could utilize friction to keep myself stable in a aggravatingly close to comfortable hell. This hell turned to, 'Oh my God, I'll tell you whatever you want to hear' torture once the bus revved up its nuclear powered engines. Powerless to stop it, this shaking overwhelmed my feeble 'friction' powers, and I spent the rest of the night sliding with all my fat ass American weight into the toe pinch, readjusting, then sliding again. After a few hours, I said to myself, 'Self, it can't get any worse, right?' That's precisely when it did. As is often the case in Asian bus journeys, the driver, usually a 13 year old punk ass, will have a co-pilot. This person, usually an older, slightly lazier version of punk ass, serves a vital combination of roles, but who knows if he gets paid for any of them? He is firstly there as comic relief to the driver, which can be put better as making sure the driver is doubled over laughing and NOT watching the road as he pulls a pass up hill around a blind corner honking the horn (which I find helpful to sleep). Other roles include but are not limited to traveling salesman, hot chick spotter, hot chick holar-er, hostage negotiator, ebay entrepreneur, and bodyguard. Did I mention this person is usually drunk. On this harrowing night, the copilot was an especially fat and lazy one, even I could tell he wasn't funny. At the moment I resolved to grit and bear a sleepless night of pain without despairing, is when fat boy decided to come back in the aisle looking for a place to sleep, on the floor. You guessed it, right next to me. Now my bed was a good 2 inches above the floor, so its not like we were sleeping together.... but we were. Getting snuggled, as nice as it can be on a cold and windy night, did not help my newly found resolve. The straw that broke the camels back was when the flatulence started. I despaired. Then he thankfully rolled over to bombard the fella across the 14 inch aisle, and started wheezing in my face. This guy's breath could strip paint, and I sat there wishing to die. I covered my head with my shirt like a scared turtle, and debated whether to ask the bus driver to let me out in the middle of God knows where, or to take my scuba knife to my wrist. That's when, in a moment of inspiration, and without the aid of his copilot, the driver decided to take what I believe to be the shortcut down the stairs of a mountain. The pinching intensified, and my entire upper body was bouncing up and down on the titanium bed on which I layed. I think this eventually knocked me out, thankfully. When we arrived in Guangzhou, (Canton), I awoke to sharp pain and swelling around one of my ribs, and a bruised ego, copilot had ditched me to spoon the guy from Barcelona across the aisle. I was planning on staying about a week with my friend from San Francisco Kenny, and his wife Liz, who had moved to the fragrant harbor a while back, but I was destined to spend a month there, the whole time nursing a broken rib.
Hong Kong is a great city, like nowhere else in the world. Part China, part England, but mostly Cantonese, it defies classification. The harbor, the busiest in the world for the last century, is beautiful but its days are numbered. Pressure to fill it in for more realestate has already changed it substantially. I arrived at the doorstep of the San Francisco Towers to find Kenny, Liz, and Lu Lu, their incredible dog. I must have looked a mess, I'm surprised they let me in. They did however, and we spent the next day sweating on the other side of the island. This was a theme that would continue. Without a doubt, Hong Kong in June is THE most miserable, humid pressure cooker of a city I have ever been in. You simply CAN NOT go outside. You better have a back-up air conditioner too, or your living will written up. I can not stress this enough, it was crazy, even the locals admit it.
With this in mind, I decided to get a job and stay a while longer. I was lucky enough to have a connection to a nice guy who owns a Landscape Architecture firm in Hong Kong, and he agreed to hire me on for two weeks. This was great because I was running low on money, and they had great air con in the office. It was also a great opportunity to work on Macau Studio City, a multi-billion dollar venture including a casino, three hotels, a shopping mall, five swimming pools AND a roller coaster planned to rival the London Wheel in size. My job was to lead the design effort and coordinate the multi-cultural staff. Easy! I put in a good effort, and enjoyed my time there, but was also reminded of how fucking great it is not to work, so I counted down the days till I was to leave. It was great to see Kenny and Liz in their new setting, and I was there for her 30th birthday party as well!
I worked up until the VERY last moment the day I was flying out to London. I said my goodbye's, stole a pen, and was out of there. I did catch my plane, and the flight was fine, much better then a night bus in fact, but as always, I couldn't sleep, which might partially explain what was to happen next.
To be continued....

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Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Welcome To The China Club

.............................................................................................China, the source of Eastern civilization and culture, the bastard child of Communism and Capitalism, a modern day economic revolution. With the Olympics one year away, (they are literally counting down the seconds), the Chinese are readying themselves for a showcase to the world. Three and a half weeks is a short time to even begin to unpeel this onion, but here goes. -Chinese sit in very small chairs -Chinese babies don't wear diapers, they just have slits in the back of their pants so the "accident" occurs on the street, bus, lobby, but not in the pants. -Chinese will eat anything -Chinese talk real, real loud -Chinese make lots of bodily noises, a symphony of belches, farts, snorting, and spitting. -The hard seat car isn't all that hard, but the back is uncomfortably vertical. -Very few Chinese speak English, but they love to yell, "Hello!", and then giggle. -There are lots of hunched over little old ladies. -Chinese people can sleep anywhere, at anytime, and do. -In the most beautiful, serene wilderness areas or parks, they will set up loudspeakers and blair horrid Chinese pop songs. -They have one love song that plays everywhere, including my head, even a month later. -Mohawks are in this year. -Smoke anywhere you want, go ahead, lite up. -They HATE coach Van Gundy. -If you get hot, just pull up your shirt man, air out the buddah. -Internet is dodgy, till you find the gaming lounges, which are fast and cheap($0.5/hour) and full of Chinese video addict zombies. -Lots of bad teeth and hairy moles. -the smells, oh the smells. -squat toilets baby, but at least they have a flush, unlike the bucket procedure in Laos, BUT no partitions, which is great for socializing! -Give a Chinese hiker an echo, and they will abuse it. OK OK, its cool but enough hollering! -Tai chi in the morn'n. -Construction everywhere, 24/7. Bamboo scaffolding is my favorite. -Pollution gives you head aches. -Chinese are generally kind of pushy and touchy feely. -They hate the sun like Dracula, more umbrellas in good weather than in bad. -Chines soap operas kick ass, very dramatic and cool soundtracks! Beijing On my last day in town, I was looking for an Internet cafe, one that wasn't closed for "Golden Week" , one of three holidays the Chinese get per year. The one at the hostel was closed, but I had been given some bad directions by the people at the desk, so was wondering around, probably looking a bit lost. That's when a crazy man hailed me, "Hey! You look lost buddy!" I look over to witness a older man, bald, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and construction boots, slumped at a rickety street side table, grinning maniacally at me. I said I was fine, but he beckoned me over. I was annoyed at his obnoxious tone and didn't want to back down, so I went over to him. With a wild look in his eye, Anthony introduced himself, I noticed many empty beer bottles in front of him, he was having a good breakfast. "Sit down, have a pot sticker!" He hollered for more pot stickers, and another beer in fluent Mandarin as I uneasily took a seat. Anthony was the spitting image of a starving, drunk, Humphrey Bogart, with a huge forehead, buck teeth, and gleaming eyes. He spoke with authority and conviction, he commanded attention. "You know, your a prime target for being taken advantage of." "Really?" I say, looking at myself as if I had a sign on my back, "You don't say?" "Well, you just walked by me three times in three minutes man, you have to think like a criminal to catch a criminal." I was quickly realizing how full of shit this hombre was, but he was entertaining. It turns out Anthony was from Holland, but had lived in Seattle for 14 years, and he was laying the advice down man. "Always look like you know where your going." and "Always eat, when you drink! Promise me that!" Then he exclaimed, "Would you rather have your leg, or your dick cut off?!" I thought for a bit, then replied my leg, knowing a lecture was coming. "WRONG!" Anthony joyfully declared. "Look!" To my utter dismay, this raving lunatic kicked back his chair and danced a little jig with a look of nirvana on his face. "Life is good! I live for $1 a day!" Then, as quickly as he had jumped up, his look darkened, and he scowled, making a violent slashing gesture at his crotch with his hand. "This here, means nothing, you have to enjoy the moment! In the end, this don't mean a thing!" I objected, having now had a few glasses of the Beijing Beer myself, and raised the issue of it being easy for him to say at his age, but I'm thinking I could dance just about as fine with a prosthetic leg, "...they are doing wonders with those things no-a-days!", I say. Anthony gets angry. "You know Ethan, and you can tell me to screw off, but in my opinion, your just fuckin around man. You need to get your ass out to Lhasa, its a whole different country. You'll see some stuff out there, that's just demonic!" I said I was actually thinking about it. "Great! Lets go get you a ticket right now!" He jumped up, a look of purpose on his face. "I know a good travel agent right down the street!" I regretfully informed him I had already booked my train to Xi an, but could head on from there. "Hey, want to see my place! Its great, a real shack, I pay $10 a month for it!" I probably looked dubious. "Don't worry Ethan, I don't have a homosexual tendency in my body." This is where the scam starts I was thinking. Then he declared, as if it had just occurred to him, "I have a WIFE! She's right in there!" He pointed in the dilapidated restaurant we were standing in front of. I politely declined, "I'm sure its quite nice." "No it isn't, its a hovel, it barely is room enough for a bed, but its all me and the misses need!", he said with a wink. I would have bet any amount of money that there was no misses Anthony, but then a Chinese woman emerged from the dark entry of the eatery, with a look of exasperation. "Here she is! Hey honey, this is Ethan, he's traveling the world, he's fucking around!" I smiled in agreement, we shook hands. I asked how long they had been married. "One wonderful year, hasn't it been honey?" The woman was shaking her head. "Actually, I was looking for an Internet place." I said. The wife said she new of one just around the block, real cheap. Anthony burst out that he would take me there! I said fine, and he led me down a narrow alley of shanty houses and clothes lines. "This, is REAL China." Anthony whispered, rubbing his hands together. We passed a couple guys playing cards in a door stoop, Anthony stopped to talk some kind of shit to them in Mandarin, he turned back to me giggling, but the two Chinese were not laughing. We round a sharp corner and come to a dead end. "This is our place! Now where's my key?" As Anthony fumbled through his shorts, I peeked into the window of the shack before me, sure enough, it was completely filled with a dirty mattrice. "This is all you need Ethan, no running water, no toilet, but it's shelter and cheap and I have no worries!" He danced another jig. That's when the wife ran up, very angry. "Why do you cause trouble?", she said. "Those are not good men, don't bother them!" Apparently, she had followed us down the alley. "She's just embarrassed by our place." Anthony said, but then mouthed to me never to get married. Anthony hugged his wife of one year, was hit with a revelation, "Internet!" he blurted, and we went and checked email.

Shaolin Shadow Boxing, and the Wu Tang Sword Style

American Kung Fu, yes, I am a legend in my own time. Ok, maybe not, but I did learn one move.

I decided after all the site seeing I had done in Beijing, that a more hands on experience was in order, and had read about the Shaolin Monks and their temple set in the holy Song Shan, the mountains at the center of the Taoist world. The opportunity to get some exercise and meet some monks seemed like a good idea, plus it was on the way to Xi an. I barely made my train from Beijing, mainly because my cab driver got lost! I got safely into my assigned seat after much negotiation with the people who had stolen it, and we were off, my first train in China. I had heard a lot of grim stories about the transportation in China, especially regarding the dreaded "hard seat" trains. I found the hard seat to not be bad at all, if fact, it was quite soft. The only problem was that the backs of the bench seats, pairs facing each other over a table, were uncomfortably vertical, no slouching in the Republic! I sat next to a older gentlemen who was a chain smoker, and insisted on me joining him in his habit, no matter how many times the conductor scolded us. (your supposed to smoke in-between cars). We kind of became friends, even though we couldn't communicate at all. After an 8 hour journey, we arrived in Zhengzhou, a huge city, and I disembarked. Across from the train station I found the bus station, and with some confusion, finally found a bus going to Shaolin land, another 2 hours. It was late by the time I arrived in Dengfeng, and I found a hotel for the night. The next day, I had a driver come pick me up at the hotel, and he could speak a little English. When I told him that I intended to stay a night or two at a kung fu school, he got real excited, and said he new of a good one, the one he had trained at for three years, very good. I eyed his rather round physic, and thought to myself that this might be a mistake as I agreed to have him take me there. We soon arrived at the gated complex of bleak white brick buildings with light blue tile trim and wooden eaves, just outside of town. The place seemed deserted and bleak as my spherical friend led me inside the main building, where the head master's office was. The master dojo was also a stocky man of about 40, with a shaved head and long robes on, he didn't speak a word of English. My taxi driver acted as translator as we negotiated a price for two days, training, room, and board. We settled at 400Y, and I was shown to my own room by Mr. Lee, the facility man I gathered. My room was quite nice, had a TV, a fan, and my own shower. No toilet however. I was not really told anything else and the driver took off. I was kind of at a loss till a German dude named Felix poked his head in the door. Felix spoke pretty good English, and I learned he had been training there for the past 8 months, while he was on break before starting University. Felix was the only other westerner there, but told me that every once in a while someone like myself would come by for a few days. He assured me that he also had had zero kung fu skills when he arrived, and that he thought I would probably not be sparring, just taking part in the drills and exercise regimen. I found this to be reassuring. It was Felix's last day, he was going home the next day, so was not taking part in the drills for the day, busy packing up his stuff. He bid me adieu as the drills were starting out in the courtyard. There were approximately 500 students at the school, between the ages of 8 and 14, and they all trotted out from where ever they had been hiding in their green and yellow uniforms for a military-esk role call. Then they broke into smaller groups of about 14 to do drills ranging from running lines, lifting weights, or crab waling up the stairs of the dam. I then watched in horror as these small children went through some of the most physically demanding, drop jaw amazing series of exercises I've ever seen. The group right in front of my window were doing a drill where on student would jump into a somersault while another student would jump over in the other direction, landing into a somersault of their own, all on cobblestone mind you! I stood frozen in my doorway in awe, trying to determine if I could do a somersault period.

After the two hour mid morning session was over, everyone broke for lunch. Felix came and led me to the cafeteria. The lunch was actually very hearty and substantial, consisting of rice and some kind of meat. We grabbed a table with a gangly kid who was sitting by himself. My German friend introduced Frank, a Chinese kid, having been born in Shanghai, but when he was five years old his family had immigrated to Finland, where he had learned English as a third language. He was now 12 years old, and back in China to learn kung fu, and my hunch was he was here to gain some confidence. Frank was a nerdy kid, lets face it. He would look at you with a serious, questioning, cross eyed face. I can't tell you how relieved I was to be able to speak English, after just a few days of struggling to communicate. This relief was short lived, as I soon realized that my buddy Frank had quite a severe studder, which along with his Scandinavian accent, posed an entirely different set of communication hurdles. Frank and I would have every meal together, and he would become my best friend and interpreter at the school, especially after Felix left the next morning. The irony of this situation was not lost on me, but Frank was undaunted and so enthusiastic to ask questions and express very thoughtful observations, we tended to have conversations that would last throughout lunch, and not end till we had ventured into the courtyard and were late for our next lesson. Frank would ask me in a very serious tone, whether I liked Michael Jackson or not. When I said he was OK, he would then follow up with solemnly stating that he did too, but thought that the king of pop was very ugly. I agreed. Frank also though the United States was a very good country, and was eager to hear all about it. I found Frank to have a unique take on the world at such a young age, and we would get into philosophical discussions about politics, the war, and china, only to be stopped abruptly by being hung up on one word that Frank either couldn't say, or would say in a way that I couldn't understand. At each of these meals, we would be joined by the only two girls at the school, both about 14 years old it seemed. They always stuck together, and it seemed their arrangement at the school included them having to do the dishes for the boys in exchange for training with them. They had tough skins. The cute one insisted on serving me my gruel each meal, but was too shy to say anything. Her stocky friend was a little more communicative, although seemed annoyed by my presence. I soon realized that we were this misfit table, reminded me of highschool.

About 2pm it was finally time for my first lesson. After the military role call, we broke into groups. I was in the group of youngest kids, and we went around to the front courtyard to start with some running. To say that I stood out is an understatement of immense proportions. I towered above my classmates, and with blond hair, blue eyes, but donning the same uniform, it must have looked absurd. The kids were all excited to have me with them however, and tried to help me out all they could. We had two instructors who wore gray monk outfits, baggy but tied off with black bands just below the knee, wrapping down the calf, allowing for quick kicking movements. Kind of like traditional baseball uniforms. One instructor was taller and older looking. He generally played the bad cop, while the other shorter one was always smiling and laughing. After we had warmed up, we did a series of stretches. THE STRETCHING! Using the wall or the trunk of a small tree, we worked our hamstrings till it seemed they would burst, ballerina style. Our helpful instructors would come around and correct our form, or give the nudge that would get us just a bit further into the pain threshold. When we collapsed or yelled in pain, they would show us up by throwing their foot behold their head! I was their favorite target for example making. After this, we got in lines for kicking drills. It was pretty easy for me to play follow the leader, even though my kicks were crap. Then I was pulled aside with the hopelessly obese kid, and worked more on stretching while all the other competent kids did these flip things that they would walk into. If I had any ego left at that point, it was dashed, it was clear where my place was. When the bell rang, I was thankful that the session was over, but soon found out that it was merely time to change our station. Up next, weight lifting! We moved to the back courtyard, each carrying these concrete blocks with handles cast into them. I could only guess what these were for! We got into formation, and did a series of exercises lifting these things, tossing them in the air with one hand, and catching them with the other hand, which really worked the deltoids, shoulders, and forearms. I was doing pretty will with this, even though they gave me a block twice the size of everyone elses! Wait a minute, these were 9 year olds I'm comparing myself too, mutant freak 9 year olds, but kids all the same. Thing got a little more tricky after that. We started having to catch the blocks on top of a clenched fist and balance it on our knuckles, or catch it on top of our elbow, and hold our arms straight out till our shoulders gave out. As breaks between sets, we ran lines and did push ups on fists on the cobblestones. I was soon bleeding, but this was something I could do, just keep me away from flips. Finally, lesson one was over. I ended up hanging out with this incredibly curious kid and Felix in my room, showing pictures on my camera, trying to communicate. These kids were the greatest, so courageous in coming up to a stranger and trying to communicate. Felix basically described the place as a boot camp, military school for the kids whose families couldn't afford to send them to a real school. Their regimen was incredible! They start at 6am, and end at 11pm every day, all year. They train for two-three hours at a time, then have 2 hour breaks for meals and studies. They learn some math and a little English, although Felix described the classes as being a joke. I seriously contemplated staying there for a long time. I had dinner with Frank the the two girls again, Felix was missing. (turns out he was having some beers with his instructor). It was getting around 8pm at that point, and I just figured we were done. I took a stroll out to the dam to watch the end of great sunset, watching some locals down at the waters edge fishing, the majestic mountains in the background. Going back to my room, I took a shower and got into bed. That's when the night drill started! Some kids from my group came to my door, thinking I was just being lazy. I jumped up and said I'd be right out, even though they couldn't understand a word. I ran out to join the formation jogging around in circles like a flock of bees. Then we did punching drills. We basically would do three punches into the air on verbal cues from our instructors. Our fist were to start in a palm up position, and rotate to a palm down position with each puch, adding the velocity of twisting to each thrust. With each punch we were to exhale, which when done in unison, created an impressive sound. I was messing up that point, and pulled in front as an example. Now I would have figured that I could punch the air forever, but I soon was getting exhausted. The other thing I was getting all wrong, was that with both punches, we were supposed to be hitting the same imaginary target, not just punching wildly. After a while, I was once again pulled aside, but this time it was to learn my first move! I don't know what it was called, but it was pretty cool, and very difficult. Thats when Felix returned. We broke early, and we followed him into the caffeteria, where my group all sang a song for him, as a fairwell. It was incredibly touching. Felix then started throughing out these candies that he had brought with him. I was impressed at the connection they all had, and honestly a bit envious. More thoughts of staying on longer.....

Then next day, I woke up early to go through the same routine, sans Felix who had left early in the morning. I soon found that I was cramping up, and by the end of the day, I could barely walk. This quelled any crazy thoughts of staying on, my 30 year old body just couldn't take the abuse! So I said goodbye to my instructors, and the head master, and left the school. It was an incredible experience, the best of china.

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