Asia Specific

Fresh Lesson (salted)

2006-12-11T21:12:00.000+05:30

One of the lessons that you learn real quick-like when you live in places where most people's language isn't yours, is 1. double check your tickets and 2. do it again. In Japan, i chalked this one up under "lesson learned" after missing a Green Car (first class train) ticket home from Tokyo. But sometimes even though you know your lessons, you need a reminder. I thought I had that one done in Beijing when we were lolling around the hostel with 30 'till departure at a train station that was an hour away, during rushhour.

But after Beach Blanket Bingo 'till the early hours, our facilities were less than razor sharp when we went to board our "3x the normal price cause you bought it from the owner of the guesthouse and besides today and tomorrow are holidays and i'll have to buy it on the black market so it'll be 1500 rupees" tickets from Goa to Bombay. So somewhere it was decided that 1. double check you tickets and 2. do it again ought to be learned one more time, or at least have a little reinforcement.

Reinforcement came at 10:00am in the form of a train with "Bombay - Margao" emblazoned upon the side. Our tickets were for 10:00 (ish). A train stood in front of us. It was 10:00 (ish). Our destination was clearly written on the panel of the sleeper.
When we woke up in Margao to the conductor saying "end of the line" we realized 1. double check your tickets and 2. do it again is real important. It then made sense why we could snooze out on the train and why there was nobody in our compartment, let alone the train at all.

So, 600 rupees and 6 hours later, we boarded the overnight bus to Bombay from Margao, with some cashew nuts, some mango paste, and a handful each of fresh Lesson (salted) to tide us over for our 14 hour ride. Luckily we were in the front of the bus, right next to the driver, who was trying desperately to walk it out via the bus' airhorn.

Walk it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozXTu8tHZ18

Sunrise

2006-12-02T22:10:00.000+05:30

Sunset

2006-12-02T22:01:00.000+05:30

Where you Goa-in?

2006-12-02T21:39:00.000+05:30

After 2 months and countless miles (kilometers, leauges, whatever) the soles of our feet have become as rocks, solid as the railroad rails which have carried us across this great (in) continent. Which is why, after about 30 seconds of discussion, we decided to purchase a fare on the democratising airline known as "SpiceJet."

Delhi to Goa by train= 42 hours.
Delhi to Goa by SpiceJet = 3 hours.

60 bucks for sanity and two days, no question.

So Don and i abandoned our westward snails pace for a birds-eye-view, and a three hour tour straight to the beach.

If you're looking for your random uncle who got lost somewhere in the 60s and hasn't turned up since then, i found him. Not only him, but also all the people who thought the "rave" scene was not only a viable subculture, but something that ought to be perpetuated. I found them too. Either that or Barnum & Baily dump the has-been clown costumes in the second hand stores around here, cause people are looking downright silly. Checker pants with a matching vest. 50 year old men with thongs. I though people recognized that the ambiguous tribal tattoo was pretty grunge 90's, maybe they didn't catch the memo in Eastern Europe.

But the beach is beautiful, the water warm, and its snowing in Chicago (be safe). So there.

Thanksgivin' !!

2006-12-02T21:27:00.000+05:30

We spent Thanksgiving in Delhi. Sacrelidge though it may be, i must admit, we visited one of Ray Croc's entrepreneurial establishments, since clean and cheap (if not good, plentiful and nutritious) for the Maharajah Mac (value meal). It was bogus. TO make up for it, our friend and fellow Semester at Sea alumni AJ (currently residing in Delhi, working as an industrialist) took us to the almighty NIZAM's KEBAB.

Heavenly. No picture would do justice to the "Double Mutton Double Egg" rolls, which were put away with a fierce-ness. Carnivourous we became, rapidly raptoring the remaining remains of such a fine feast. In fact, in honor of the Turkey sandwiches we would be eating for days to come, we spent 3 of the next 6 meals there. Beats the rat head.

Sikh It Out

2006-12-02T20:44:00.000+05:30

When i did my TEFL certification course at the wonderful Boston Language Institute (yes, of "T" fame, beantowners) our headmaster dude was a fella wearing a turban and a white mundu. We all thought he was an Arab. "Actually" he said, "I'm from Philadelphia." He continued to explain that he is a Sikh, and that they are definitly not Arabs. Don and i went to the Sikh holy city of Amritsar, right on the India/Pakistan border. It was a 24 hour train journey from Varanasi to Punjab, one made much more uncomfortable buy some stomach bug i picked up somewhere along the line in Varanasi, which kept me moving between the bunk and the toilet. You really get acquainted with those things, toilets. Like the train varity which have two metal footprints to show you where to place your feet when you squat.
But Amritsar was beautiful, the Golden Temple is fantastic, and the Sikhs seem to have a great thing going on. We also made a stop by the border to watch the ceremonial Closing of the Border. The biggest Indian and Pakistani army men are chosen to huff and puff at each other while they lower the flags and officially close the border to traffic for the evening. People gather on both sides to cheer and jeer at the soldiers below. Check it out!

The Mighty Ganges

2006-11-18T16:31:00.001+05:30

Now, some may scoff when they check this lil' webpage, saying, "man, if i was not working, running around the world like a chicken with his (or her) head cut off i shure as H-E-double-hockey-sticks wouldn't be sitting at a dang compooter writing autobiographical doodoo about myself (redundant?) all day long!"
Unless you were in Varanasi for the fourth day. In which case you might.
Not that Varanasi (Benares) doesn't have its share of things to see for the touristically minded. There is of course, the legendary Ganges river, right down the alleyway. In this city of Shiva, there are temples galore (gore?), boatrides to be had, photos to be taken. But of all the places i've been this one is particular.
It could be the noise, which is similar to a Ratt/Styx double bill opening up for Poison. Or, more descriptively, someone systematically destroying the entire rhythm section of the JB's. Horns. In your eardrum. direct and non-stop. Or, possibly, if one was aurally challenged, it could be the constant ducking and weaving needed to negotiate the alleys full of people, cows, their sh!t (both people and cows (that exclamation point makes it PG right? ohh bold)) and the persistent touting of everything one could possibly ever desire. No, seriously, soliciting here comes close to an art form. From whispers of various street names for drugs (brown sugar?) to paint, the ubiquitous postcard and every form of textile under the sun, they got what you didn't even know you needed. But the all time winner is the Handshake Masseuse. Operating near the Main Ghat, a proffered hand leads to a gentle come on to show the amazing dexterity of the artist. One look into the rotting maw of the practicioner, however, leads one quickly out of the relaxing state in which he wished to leave you, and into hysterics at the thought of where his hands might have previously been.
Now, im not one to knock someone's hustle, cause its a tough world out here. But better believe, after traipsing across Asia, that you better come with a smarter game than a hand massage if you wanna get me. For instance, Goldie Hawn. Approached by a gang of 12 year olds, who originally came with the postcard/"what country" intro, we were quickly suprised to hear next "wanna see some pictures of Goldie Hawn?" Now, at the tender age of 26, im a little young for "Laugh-In" but Private Benjamin's kind of classic, and i saw "Death Becomes Her" in the theatre. And as far as intros for getting folks into your patron's silk shop, that's priceless. Turns out Goldie actually not only visited Babu's silk shop, but came for dinner, and posed for an entire roll of photographs, not to metion keeping up a now-laminated corespondence with Babu(although it must have changed from a beautifully scripted handwritten to email which was then printed, complete with typed signature).
These kids were great. Not that we can't tell, but they knew who was legit and who wasn't, and were secular enough to say "ok, no one's looking, quick, take a picture!" at the infamous Burning Ghats. Not that you need a picture, cause the ashes are all over you, and the memory doesn't really fade quickly. Especially when your hired boat pulls right up to the bank where the bodies are pushed (swept?) into the water, and you are offered a chance to get out and stand right next to the fire. An entirely different kind of experience. As i was told by a still groggy Israeli in Beijing (insert your best accent here) "India's the real sh!t, man."
Yes. India is the real sh!t. Next stop Amritsar, the Sikh Golden Temple and the famed Pakistan border formalities. Don't worry Fox News watchers, we don't have visas.

Getting Up

2006-11-12T15:41:00.000+05:30

This photo was on the cover of the Kathmandu Post. Look close.

McCarthy's Nightmare

2006-11-11T14:28:00.000+05:30

(with NEW! Nat'l Geo style intro)

"As i stared out into the sea of red shirted, bandanna wearing, slogan chanting Communists, my thoughts were, first; How did i arrive in this predicament, and second; how will i extricate my capitalist/imperialist (depends on where you're from) passport wielding self from in front of this podium with the hammer and sickle so prominently displayed? When the first speaker began those of us trapped in the press box began snapping photos destined for the AP wire or various publications of major importance in the realm of world affairs. They would then describe to the world the rally celebrating the legitimizing of the Communist Party Nepal (Maoist) better known to western media receptors as "the Maoists." But let me start from the beginning...

Agent Ford and I were just settling back to finish reading our morning paper in the garden of the local Tibetan Peace Guest House when our reverie was disturbed by loud honking and cheering. Never ones to pass up a scene, ( a trick we learned from the Chinese, who happily pause all goings on to gawgle at traffic accidents, arguments, minor domestic disturbances and foreigners) and due to our well honed spidey-senses, we knew something was afoot. I quickly settled the bill while Don went to collect our image capturing devices, what the french reer to as "les appereil-photo." With the swiftness, we descended from the relative calm of our secluded guesthouse area to the din of the dusty street below.

"Blazes!" cried Donald, "It seems the Maoists are out in force this afternoon, and they seem to mean buisness." It was true, along the street were forming orderly lines of red cap'd Nepalis, from children in school uniforms to mothers in saaris, rapidly being organized by others clad in the ubiquitous red-visor-thingy.
The air rang of celebration, and with the signing of the peace treaty between the government and Maoist forces, it rang with good cause. As the lines began a cheering march forward, we slid up the sidelines like a young Deion Sanders and Terrell Owens. Soon, however, the crowd became too much even for such deftness and fleetness of foot as that possessed by such as we, and we were swept along with the current of chanting Maoists.

Swept along, that is, until the beaver dam known throughout the world of image viewers as the “Line of baton and shield wielding police creating a barrier” stood in the way. Seperated by the masses, Don and I took our considerable initiative in capturing the moments for the world. At one point, divided by no more than 25 yards stood the crowd of chanting Maoists, and the line of demarcation established by the urban camo clad baton wielders. Tense was the moment while the heretofor beligerrent Maoists discussed alternate routes with the head of police. Catcalls flew, and tensions flared, but cooler heads prevailed on this day of celebration and the march was re-routed towards the center of town, where the rally was to be held.
Unbeknownst to the impromptu embedded journalists like us, this stream was only one of many, and when we reached the rally grounds we joined a veritable ocean of people.

Say what you will about the tenants of national socialism, but the maoists can set up a rally. Even rows of people were rapidly seated within viewing range of the stage. In order not to be seated among the masses, and subjected to 4 hours of speeches in a foreign tounge, Donald and I took separate routes to try and reach the stage. I was luckily adopted by young man who helped me to push through the crowds, right to the front, where I was pressed beyond the rope leading to the press area. Free from the crush of the masses, I had a moment to survey my surroundings. 180 degrees from right to left saw army green jackets and red hats, bandannas displaying and affinity for either Che Guevara, Bob Marley, marijuana or the great U.S. of A. As far as the eye could see were people craning to see, from the tops of buses, bridges, boxes and curry carts. Directly behind this view stood the podium, and the crowding photographers.

“I see you’ve made it in, but do you have a Press Pass?”
I whirled to see none other than my partner and erstwhile photo-journalism major brandishing a recently acquired press pass.
“This is so dope.”
“Totally.”
High fives (dap, big twist, etc.) completed, we began, through the rhetoric aimed at creating a new Nepal, to document the moment. No less than 5 speeches, accompanied by song, dance and more song, led us to a quickly descending sun and a crowd with empty stomaches. With instructions to disperse peacefully, the crowd began their dusty shuffle back to their homes and neighborhoods to waiting curries and discussions on the future of the fragile democracy.

Afterword: Befriended by a “(do the little finger quotes here) punk-journalist,” Don and I were invited to dinner and homemade liquor at his friends’ house. But that’s another post altogether, as “Raj Against the Machine” (a nickname) insinuated himself into our lives enough to awaken us this morning with his head sticking therough our open window. And that leaves out the guy with the 2Pac tattoo, and “the world’s last surviving Megadeth fan.”

Tough things to do at 5000 meters

2006-11-02T16:37:00.000+05:30

play basketball.

climb mountains.

Get lost walking to Everest Base Camp.

Sleep.

Breathe.

Easy things to do at 5000 meters:

Look at yaks.

eat yaks.

smell yaks.

Dropping off the Plateau

2006-11-02T14:50:00.000+05:30

Similar to a penny off the Empire State Building, we arrived in Katmandu day or so ago (ahem 7, sorry), via one of the more amazing georgraphical experiences i'ev had; coming off the tibetan plateau. You drop 3000 meters or so from brown rocky moonscape into verdant valley territory rife with waterfalls and curry, the weather goes from windswept sunburn (sun) or windswept icecicle (shade) to tee shirts and flip flops in half a day. Kathmandu is a huge shock to the seasoned China traveller, all of the things you took for granted in the "sure wish i had a ... right now" catagory are right at your fingertips. All of a sudden things are 1. cheaper and 2. better and 3. western.
for example:

In Tibet..yak noodle soup In Nepal...lemon marinated chicken breast with mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables
IN Tibet... "Can we please get another blanket, we're going to freeze." in Nepal... (insert subcontinental accent) "is there anything else i can do for you sir? HOw much would you like to pay for the room? yes yes That is a fair price my friend. "

but since the last broadcast:

We left Lhasa headed 'cross the plateau in a rented 4X4, me and Don plus Gulliame and Princess K, and our driver Tsenour. 6 nights in steadily decreasing levels of accomodation, tibetan tea houses, vast plains and in front of Mt. Qomolangma. (tallest mountain in the world they say). Tibet is a tough land, the people mirror that for sure. At least they don't really care about such minor inconveniences such as cleaning toilets or washing things. Or toilets, or washing, apparently. Cause we didn't see a piece of porcelin the whole time. And if you want to see how atrociously untended the toilets were, i have a small visual excercise:
take your left thumb and forefinger and make a circle.
insert your right index nuckle in the circle from the bottom.
visualize.

But who needs that stuff when everything that you need is provided by some part of a yak? Some people like that (yak). Some people don't. Princess K would rather be passive agressive/complain monster about everything. Its understandable, one shower in 6 days can make anyone a little testy. But when you are tugging your rolling luggage over rocky mountainous terrain on day 5, don't be looking at us with a look of entitlement.

Tibet is cold. It could be the fact that at one point, the only thing seperating me from the tallest point on this planet was a cinder block wall and 3000 vertical feet. And every single article of clothing that i own. One would expect the tallest mountain in the world to be a little chilly, but im talking about putting on extra clothes to go to sleep under blankets. At least you don't have to get dressed in the morning.

We made stops at Gyantse, Shigatse, Sakye, Shelakar, Rhongphu Monastery (Everest Base Camp) and Old Tingri. We drove in the mornings, and checked out Monasteries and Tibetan villages in the afternoons. Our biggest worries were where to poop, and being cold while doing it. Tibet is an incredible place. As you ride, the view becomes normal, until you hit a bump and realize where you are. We made it safely through (more like down) the border to nepal with a new appriciation for comfort, which Nepal was happy to provide.
(phew! I gotta keep up on this thing. Relating a weeks worth of stuff is too much. My secretary will take appointments for photo viewing or go here (actually not much new, but speeds slow round these parts))

No Sleep 'Till Lhasa

2006-10-22T18:36:00.000+05:30

Regardless of the Boys Entering Anarchistic States Towards Inner Excellence (you gotta fight for your right) T-shirt and concert campaign for a free Tibet, Don and I shamelessly boarded the brand-spankin' new Chinese cultural infiltration railway known as the Qinghai Express from warm and spicy Chengdu to the chilly Tibetan capital of Lhasa. This is railway like it used to be, except the buffalos were yaks and we wern't using them for target practice. Aside from the fact that 48 hours worth of instant noodles, spicy space tofu and wheat boba tea will send one running with a quickness to the intestinal confessional, we arrived safe and sound 4000 meters above sea level on the Roof of the World. The train climbs high enough that they issue oxygen tubes in case you start seeing stars. Even though we kept the astrology to a minimum, we did play with the oxygen tubes, which basically only serve to dry out your esophogus.
Welcome to the Wild West. Dudes walk around with ceremonial knives, and the monks are the biggest guys around. They could crush you. The bars can only be called "taverns" and the locals drink beer that looks like you poured it in the middle of the fermentation. But its so different from China proper, and feels it. Especially in the lungs when you walk up a flight of stairs. Tenzog Norgay i ain't. Yet. Cause we got our group together for the trip to the Nepali border yesterday, which includes a stop at Everest Base Camp. Its all downhill from there.

Red Meat Head, not an angry frat brother

2006-10-16T10:56:00.000+05:30

When you live/travel in foreign countries you quickly figure out what we refer to as "Han'lin Bidness." Some of this "bidness" you have to accomplish faster and with more frequency than others. Getting directions, finding lodging, buying little tiny scissors for trimming a moustache, eating, etc; these things get easier the more you do em. With scissors, barring domestic or international air travel, once done, you don't really have to worry about it unless you lose em. With eating, however, for the healthy travelling human male, (yes, we are) three times a day is the reccomended dosage. Flapping your arms like a chicken, snorting like a pig and moo-ing like a cow become de rigeur for ordering food. Its quite a site. Another old stand by is the "i'll have what they're having" point and shoot. This is generally accomplished by a quick glance neighborwards to check edibility and a point followed by a couple of fingers to indicate how many.
This last method was put to use last night, as Don and I stepped into a rather upscale little spot 'round the corner from Sim's Cozy Guesthouse, Chengdu, where we layed our belongings. After picking out a couple of vegetables, we looked to our neighbors, who had donned plastic gloves, and were digging into a metal bowl full of what appeared to be, meat. Now, we're a couple of hearty adventureres, ready to handle just about any task or challenge. So, may i present the following dialogue:

"What's that?" Don said, pointing to the bowl.
"Red Meat head" said the waitress.
With a brief look for agreement, we say, "Yeah, and some of that"
"How many?" the budding english speaker asks.
Hmmm. "Well, two i guess" we reply.

After a brief pause where we forget the magnitude of our order while the veggies arrive, our waitress returns with our plastic cafeteria gloves and our metal bowl, containing:

"dude."
"is that.."
"is it a bird.."
"look at those teeth"
"uh"
"Red meat head?"
"Yes," replied our waitress, "Rat Meat Head. From Chengdu."
Well, local origins aside, what looked up at us from the shiny metal confines of its spice laden bowl were two fist sized heads of what was very definitly until quite recently, rat.

"I'm gonna go wash my hands." I said.

Further inquiry, done post order, led to the conclusion that this was the "delicacy" restaurant. Other diners cracked snails, or broke apart duck bills for the toungues (which contain a bone, we were soon to find out) or ate the heads of various mammals and rodents.

Being the tough tummied travellers that we are, we took a couple of deep breaths and slid into our plastic gloves.

We cleaned those boys down to the jawbones. Eyes, brains, lymph nodes, tounges and palattes, we left skull and bones. The particular spice combination leaves the lips numb, and to eat it, one needs to keep one's own brain numb to the certain reality of what exactly it is that one is eating.
Looking for a little "real" meat to round out the meal, we made for an order of duck. When the second shiny metal bowl and set of gloves arrived, we were pros. Filled with steaming duck bills, we again donned our plastic and dug in. Break apart the bill, eat the toungue, move on to the next one.

Needless to say, in the game of "when i was in (insert foreign locale), I ate (something gross)," we win.

Still Tippin'

2006-10-16T10:37:00.000+05:30

Lemme just say, for those folks what haven't spent 12 hours lodged into the cheapest section of the Chinese rail network, when you step it up from the "Hard Seat" to the "Hard Sleeper" you are entering an entirely different world. So when we hopped into our lil bunks for the 16 hour jaunt from Xi'an to Chengdu, we were in the international parlance of mass burger chains, "Lovin' it." We celebrated by mixin' a little Lean for the ride and sittin back with DJ Screw. The Hard Sleeper takes a little planning to get the tickets in time, but its all kinds of worth it. You save a day instead of having to make up a night's sleep when you stumble off the train dazed into the waiting arms of the various touts and taxis offering 20 dollar rides to the next block.

Great Wall Y'all

2006-10-10T17:45:00.000+05:30

In the immortal words of one in the long line of unbroken amazingly articulate Presidents of the United States, "It sure is a great wall." (digital sarcasm bout the prez). Unfortunately, the Prez or Commandante or Comrade who's in charge of foreigners using the internet in mainland china isnt about letting me upload the photo goodies just yet.
So here's less than a thousand words:
Beijing is on some "Golden Age" type stuff out here, Art and Culture are progressing with the speed of the Olympic planners pulses, everything is in limbo and you can feel it.

Cool stuff from Beijing:

Hutong living structures
798 Gallery Spaces
That Picket Fence next to Mongolia
Fresh skateboard scene on the come up
and the Amazing staff at the Red Lantern Hostel who have taken care of just about any problem to arise, they are rad.

Solo travel session finished with the arrival of one Don Ford, ready to "Do it to it" We head to Xi'an tomorrow on the 12 hour hard seat train, wish our bootys Cushion Luv.

Spent my birthday (thank you everyone for the mails!) on the great wall, after a night out at the fresh new neighborhood bar joint, the wall is rad enuff that 2 hours of sleep can be conquored with a couple views off the ramparts.

X's and O's to all, you can buy me this for my birthday if you want. No, two is too much, i couldn't accept.

More Soon, with pictures

Communist Mani...ahh forget it

2006-10-02T11:42:00.000+05:30

I reckon so that folks don't forget who's really in charge around here, every now and then you need an awesome display of power and might. Especially if you are the "communists" in power way up in Beijing, and all those Cantonese speakers down in Hong Kong are running buck wild with their capitalist propoganda, driving fancy cars (i've seriously seen more Rolls and Italian named cars that are tough to spell than in my whole life) and wearing clothes made of crushed diamond powder. So i guess they thought they oughtta show em what fireworks are really about, and planned an explosive celebration for the 4th. Either this was nuclear, or my camera just can't handle the exposure. Either way, there were about a zillion proletariats milling about ohh-ing and ahh-ing in between the double bourgoise blinders created by the Sheraton and the Penensula hotel.

Visa or Callingcard?

2006-10-01T08:43:00.000+05:30

I know i was all "next post Beijing" but, things come up. SO although i was in Beijing, the nice folks at the visa agency, decided what i really needed to do, instead of extending my current visa, was to go to Hong Kong and get an entirely new one. With one day to spare, mind you. And at the very beginning of Chinese golden week. So after a nice freak-the-hell-out damn-i'm staying-in-this-sweet-spot-now-i-gotta-bounce-all-the-damn-way-to-Hong Kong, i managed to procure a flight to Shenzen, which is just across the border, and slide on the ferry Cannonball Visa run style. Flying to HK takes a McGuff style bite outta my wallet, but it beats the three day train that leaves me three days overstay on my visa and at 85 bones a day, you best believe im gonna fly. But the visa is turned in and barring getting turned down, im meeting up with Don F Ford in the 2008 olympic construction site on Oct 5th.
Hong Kong exudes wealth through its pores, its like a green miasma that you can't help but take a whiff of and be all "mmm i wanna be mega rich wear a tux and drive a Rolls too." Im trying not to breathe too deep though. Its 2 dollar ferry rides for my entertainment. Did get that "Idlewild" soundtrack though, finally. Can't wait to catch the motion picture. Aight then, catch up with pics soon, back in Beijing on the 4th

Jeet Kun Whoa!

2006-09-23T13:23:00.000+05:30

Well lovely ladies and genteel gentlemen, our brains, built as they are can only house so much knowledge. You can only remember so many conical equations and Simpson's trivia before it all starts to become one massive algebraic Springfield.
On the 26th i leave via overnight train for the capital, and soon to be olympic (believe me, you can't not know this, 2008 is emblazoned everywhere, seriously: auto upholstry) city known as Beijing.
Here's some thoughts on Chinese Gong Fu:
1. Its rad.
2. Its super difficult.
3. If you wanna be sweet you gotta train for, like, ever.
4. If you train for, like, ever, you are gonna be really sweet.

For example, Sifu Wang, (thats pronounced Shu-fu) my Master at Chan Wu:

Yes, the end of that is sticking in his neck. He broke a thick chopstick on his neck for us, and i mean, this thing was thick. Next time you eat Asian with chopsticks, stick one of those things into that little place where your collarbone meets at the base of your neck. Then break it. He was all "this no problem." I was all "yeah." That guy with the bricks is gonna stack them on his back and then they're gonna break 'em with a big stick.

But that's not to say that i haven't learned some sweet stuff. Cause i came out knowing a bunch of different forms,

Tai Chi:

and how to work the "Guen" (staff):

and the "Dao" (broadsword):

And i got in raw shape and ate vegitarian and woke up at 5 every morning. Plus, i get to legitimately wear that outfit, which at least means i won't get Dick Cheney'd whilst im traipsin' through the woods.

Next Post Beijing. Much love to all y'all who read this.

This Ain't Corny

2006-09-22T10:21:00.000+05:30

I just gotta say, living in the city (enough for or just enuff) its so easy just to run down to the supermarket (or the bodega if you are livin in that just enuff!) and get your dinner fixins'. But all that food's gotta come from somewhere, and next time you gnaw on that cob o' corn, think about where it might have sprung up from! Native Americans had whole creation myths based around it, , we just slab it up with a pad of butter and douse it in a little salt!
Anyways, all these thoughts came as i spent a day haulin' corn husks over to the edge of the cliff and tossing em over. Round here, the combine that harvests and husks acres for the American subsidized farmer isnt in sight, and all that's done by hand. So they need all the hands they can get, even itenerant Kung Fu students can learn "Shaolin Husking Fist" or whatever. There's a lot of labor before we can grab that toothpick!
Jah Bless, Be Thankful!

Professional?

2006-09-15T09:12:00.000+05:30

Nope. But seriously, you take a camera up into the hills, snap one photo of a kid, and the next thing you know their parents are all "lemme get some of those!" Then when you try to explain in a foreign language that you don't speak that, well, this is basically a toy camera that shoots a big format of film that they definitly don't develop in Dengfeng...

So i returned later with the digital, and one kid becomes an army of Kung Fu soldiers...

Dungeons and other Commercial Centers

2006-09-09T09:11:00.000+05:30

So i was battling this dragon, right? (as you do, this is China, and man, he was fierce. I mean, this wasn't your run of the mill fire breathing komodo lizard, but some serious, straight off the hoard of gold up under the mountain, only one scale missing, fire breathing, fair maiden ravishing, Dungeon master's mind melting beast. Kinda like dude to the left here, but minus the water and the mouth tentacles.
I mean, i dont know that much about dragons, definitly not as much as these folks: http://www.draconian.com/body/body.htm

But i do know that when fair maiden's get threatened by 'em, itenerant Kung Fu students better step up and take care of bidness. So when i stumbled upon this dragon doing dragon ish and harrassing the fine women folk of DungFeng, my split second kung fu skill srung straight into action, and i busted him upside the head with a few of those secrets you only learn from Kung Fu masters. He got a couple of licks in, i mean, its a dragon we're talking about here, but in the end i put him down with some old school Ralph Macchio spinning drum action and jump kick or two. He had been holding one of these fair ladies in his scaly grip, and, unfortunately, had ripped the seam of her Gucci gown, which was a little too reavealing for modesty. Me being the right southern gentleman that i am, offered immediately to get her fixed up with the nearest tailor. Since i don't speak Chinese so well yet though, i had her direct me, "where does one acquire the appropriate clothing for one of your stature?" i asked.
"Oh, that's easy," she said. "take me to the mall."

All Dogs go to heaven

2006-09-09T08:42:00.000+05:30

At least if your belief system leans towards one of the ones where when you die, you either go up and max out on fluffy clouds or down and burn in incidiary pits, eventually you might question whether animals are party to the agreement for the dispensation of souls towards the "up" escalator or the "down."

One of the first questions i was posed upon being picked up by the Chan Wu gang, was
"Do you like dogs?" Of course, Man's Best Friend and all that. Chan Wu has four. Two of the fluffy white variety, and two of the big barky variety. The big ones are harnessed to their brick houses by chains, and their time consists of finding things to bark at, eating, and pooping.

At first glance your compassion meter starts going off, thinking, "poor poochies, all tied up."
Then you listen to the barking for a while and start contemplating putting some of these well honed sword swanging techniques to use in choppin' heads.

At Master Wang's house, they had a baby pooch that was always running around, inside the house and out. Being a little pooch, it was always jumping up and down and snapping at folks, particularly students who liked to play with dogs. Enter Leo, German, 16.

He got bit by this here little poochie, not too bad but it drew blood. Which was really no problem, until the little pooch keeled over from rabies the next week. And the neighbors dog. And the neighbor's neighbors dog. Rightly fearing fatal viral infections, he made quick tracks with his father back to his native Germany.

Our other foreign student, slightly more prone to worrying about diseases and malaises than the next guy (he doensnt have the DSM-IV next to the bed or nothing, but still) got to thinking about his own contact with that little pooch, and decided that he too, needed to get home, cause he shure wasnt getting shots in China, good gracious no.

That leaves yours truly as the sole foreign student at Chan Wu Academy, at least for the next three weeks before i start making moves towards the western world where, through the process of domestic vaccination, we have mostly eradicated such viral problems.

Anyways, China ain't no joke.

But i do get almost exclusive access to Shaolin Master Xi Peng Wang, where he'll teach me how to break out of the handcuffs at quarantine.

You don't want drama

2006-09-01T10:05:00.000+05:30

you don't want none!

How to Get to Chan Wu

2006-09-01T09:33:00.000+05:30

I reckon folks are curious as to where this writer currently resides..sure "China" gives an idea, but im not living in the shadow of the great wall, or battling Xi'an's concrete warriors out here.

So, in attempts to clear up, here's a look at the transportation necessary to get to my neightborhood...

First, one would have to get to Mainland China. (Visas are your own affair, American foreign policy being what it is...(nuff said)) The its a train to Zhengzhou (jeng-joe). From there, an air-conditioned bus playing the latest in either Kung-Fu or Anti-japanese imperialist film in the VCD format...

Arrival in Dengfeng (Dung Fung), my stomping grounds. Here it gets interesting. You catch this bus:

pay this woman 2.5 yuan:

If you are standing, you duck when we pass the police, cause they got rules about safety you know, and folks just can't be crowding the buses...

The you get out at Da Jin Dian, the trafffic circle,

where you hook up one of these tuk-tuks for a ride through beautiful fields of maize related agriculture to the village of Wan Shan...

get off here,

pay the driver 1 yuan, and walk through the village to the door.

Not so tuff right? Welcome to Chan Wu, dont bring no beef cause we eat vegetarian!

Wu-Tang is Life

2006-08-26T09:41:00.000+05:30

I got all Wu-Tang (a reference for the younger generation that reads this) and climb the mountain. By "climb" i mean take a cablecar to the top and then walk crazy far around the top. Some enterprising young communist decieded to build a massive stone path around this holy mountain so that a million people could ascend, shout "echo" in chinese, and get super sweaty and take their shirts off. Luckily for me, its wasnt a holiday and lady fair weather was not inclined to join us, i got bits and pieces to myself. It has crazy limestone formations that fell off the mountain and make for spectacular scenery and views down, and a great place to build a zillion steps that zigzag around the mountain. This was all great until the rain came accompanied by thunder and lightning, which, while beautiful, leaves one questioning one's exposure to the elements while clinging onto a path on the side of a mountain. I buckled down with a couple of girls visiting from Beijing under a tarp next to the suspension bridge over the chasm of death, and waited for the rain to let up. It was sweet though, cause the gave me a ticket to the rediculously overpriced Shaolin Tourist site i mean Temple, and we got to check it out sans tourists, cause everyone melted in the rain a la the wicked witch. I also scored a ride back to Dengfeng with one of thier uncles, who must be loaded cause we weren't sittting on naugahyde i'lll tell you that. But then i had to scoop a taxi back home cause the buses were finished, i guess friday night ends early for folks who wanna get back to the villages, it set me back 5 bucks, but i got to get dry and eat, which folks, is priceless.

Week One Survived.

2006-08-18T14:05:00.000+05:30

Well, i have survived my first full week of training at the Chan Wu academy in East Nowhere, Nowhere, Middle China. (Actually, a village called Wan Shan, near the town of Dengfeng, which is close to Zhengzhou, if you're map gazing) Apart from sore arms and a resemblence to gumby (minus the green), im doing well. You quickly fall into the train, eat, nap routine out here, especially since its just about planet Mercury hot out here. Naw, im playing. We cleared this field behind the training shed so that we can train outdoors, which allows for a wonderful breeze, but has a downward slope that makes headknocking flying crane kicks a little tough to land. But you live and learn, or you fall in the dust. We started the staff form this week too, which is a nice change, and allows you to form really sweet blisters in between your thumb and forefinger. But if i ever get into a kungfu battle in the poolhall, y'all best watch out. We took yesterday morning off of training to go to this "festival" in the village where they were possibly "bringing out the new buddha" or something of that nature that involved serious drum banging, paper and incense burning, dancing, and more drums and incense burning. And firecrackers.

The old folks there are intense, (circus) You can tell they been through thangs, cause the either have some gnarly feature, like a missing eye or shark's teeth, or when they look at you it's with the world in their face and they say, in a half second glance, "y'aint know nothing lil foreigner with your camera, 30 years ago i had to hold this festival in my basement under a blanket. And i nearly choked from burning all this paper." They dont really say that, but they do have the look of ages. Anyways, they look really sweet.
So i got at least two more weeks here before heading out. Don, if you read this, and you get a phone call in the middle of the night, that's me, pick it up. Still planning the rest of this trip, here, suggestions welcome.
-----Will

Chan Wu Gong Fu

2006-08-11T10:41:00.000+05:30

For those that don't know, i'm at a Kung Fu school near Dengfeng, Henan Province in Central China. I have survived my first week here, and can say that, as of this morning, after a bout with fluidity, everything is "solid." We train three times daily, starting at 5am with running and stretching.
Here's the school's website: http://www.chanwugongfu.com

Check the videos and the training schedule.

Things you use daily that are unavailable at Chan Wu:
Mr. Crapper's illustrious porcelin invention
mattresses more than an inch thick
air conditionining
hot water
bread
television
communication devices
a washing machine

Things we do have:
dogs
fresh figs from the tree in the courtyard
a training dungeon
medieval weapons

Here's the pictures: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wiru-sensei

more to come later. These computers are killing me. Next week will be my first real week of training. I trained monday afternoon to thursday this week, let me tell you, i may be a pretzel by the end of this. We got our Chi Gong belts yesterday so maybe i will break iron bars with my eyebrows before i leave. I can update on fridays or saturdays, as those are our days off, at least for now. I figure by next week i should be about Bruce Lee status, or at least Jackie Chan. Feel free to comment.

Chan Wu

2006-08-11T10:38:00.000+05:30

So...
I made this so that folks dont have to catch mass emails all over their inboxes... I will try to update this as I make my way home from the Land of the Rising Sun to the Gateway to the South. I tried this once before and couldn't handle the technology though so bear with me...