Forbidden City

Photos cannot prepare a person for the grand imperial palace. It is not really a city but it did house the empire's government and the whole of its court, who rarely left, for 500 years. All who viewed its splendor without an invitation were immediately killed.

The best way to see it (and this is based on my natural assumption that I always do things the best way) it to walk North through the southern end of Tian'en Men Square, Mao's own take on the massiveness of the palace, and head through the iconic Gate of Heavenly Peace, with ol' Mao staring right down at you the whole time. Tian'en Men Square is the largest public square in the world. This is not shocking when you see it, the place is huge! How huge you ask the computer screen? Well, almost one mile long and a quarter of a mile wide. That is a lot of concrete. I wanted a photo of me standing with my arm outstretched to stop a take that wasn't there, but I decided it would be disrespectful. Also, all the military standing around didn't seem like they had much of a sense of humor.

The palace starts after passing under the giant portrait of Mao. Although big, the portrait is the least imposing thing about the Forbidden City. Each gate is bigger tahn the one before. It is easy to feel dwarfed walking through such high doorways. Everything is massive. The photos don't show it, words can't really say it. You just have to see it.

The building up the center are huge. The spaces seem boundless. Building shouldn't be this gargantuan. After the various halls (the emperor's changing room is bigger than most houses), the central axis ends with the divine palace gardens. Towering above them is a giant sculpted rock pile, 20ft high with an inviting pavillion that was sadly closed to public.

After seeing the sites of the center, we moved to the sides. The center buildings alone took three hours to view. We decided to visit the Qing Dynasty's collection of clocks and watches. Most were gift from the imperial powers of Europe, primarily England in the 18th and 19th centuries. It also showcased the fine craftsmen of China as well. The exhibit showed the European influence of the development of clockmaking in China. Wow, I reckon seeing a gallery of clocks sounds dry. Seriously, how interesting can clock be anyway? It was awesome! The clocks were magnificent. The great clockmakers sowed great artistry in welding, wood carving, painting and mechanics. Flowers bloomed with dancing figurines inside. Composers wrote scores that played when the clocks chimed. Timepieces sat atop elephants. There were clocks so big, they had ladders. Sometimes the clocks were so extravagent, it was difficult to even find the timepieces, which could be
smaller than those on a wristwatch. It was highlight of the palace.

We walked around for a few more minutes before employees started shutting ates and herding the crowds out the door. Without realizing it, five hours had passed. We didn't even have a chance to see the myriad of small museums scattered in the outer buildings. We were leaving Beijing that day, so I wouldn't be able to add another day at the palace. Oh well. We still saw a lot.

Temple of Heaven

Another of Beijing's big three wonders of Ming architechture is the Temple of Heaven park. I wish I had seen this first. Though it is an incredible place, it seems less outstanding after seeing the summer palace, though I really don't want to downplay its majesty.

This confusian temple was where the emperor came to pray for good harvests. First he locked himself in his non-pleasure palace. Here he could avoid the royal vices such as concubines, alcohol, sweets, and extravagent meals. After the emperor's cleansing fast, an animal (an ox, I believe) was sacraficed before the prayer ritual.

Though the park is filled with quaint place, ornate pagodas, and other neat buildings, the main draw is the centerpiece, the aptly named Temple for the Prayer for Good Harvests. This massive round temple, 100ft tall, is one fo the main symbols of Beijing and a highlight of Nixon's famous China visit. The towering structure was atonishingly built without nails or vement. The ceilings have paintings worthy of Rome and towering gold columns that shoot all the way to the domed top. It is another can't miss site.

Summer Palce

The lakeside summer palace in the north end of Beijing was built as a retreat from the summer heat of the forbidden city seven miles away. Although not as grand as the imperial palace, it may be more beautiful. At its center, on top of Longevity Hill, is the magnificent Tower for the Fragrance of the Buhdda. It is grand, imposing and above all, gorgeous. Chinese imperial architechture is hard to capture in photographs. The buildings are massive, but built with insane amounts of ornate detail. Every inch is hand carved. Every panel is adorned with a different painting. One could spend hours just staring at a corner. The building pop with vibrant blues, greens, purples and reds.

The most striking aspect of the buildings are the ways they are one with the landscape and the features of the palace grounds themselves. It is almost more of a park than a place. A grand park with temples and pavilions that could only be built for emperors.

Though swarming with poeple, there are many charming corners of the grounds where the crowds avoid because they involve climbing hill or don't feature any major accomplishments of Chinese engineering. These spots are the true heart of the Summer Palace. It showcases the China great garden building skills. Vast canals filled with lillies, well placed groves of twisting cypruses, ever umbrellaing willow stretching over gentle streams, and mazelike rock gardens sittle in the shade of Longevity Hill's forests all await those willing to dedicate a few extra hours for exploration. Beijing's summer palace is more than a gem of China, but a gem of this Earth.

Great Wall Part 2

I looked down from this vantage and saw the ridiculous sections of wall of which I'd read. The wall dropped straight down hundreds of feet, only to pop up again and reach for the sky.  It dipped up and down until it wound out of sight.  Though the vies could have kept us stationed for hours, staring off across the misty mountains in either silent awe or exaggerated wows, we had to go in the other direction to rejoin the rest of the group.

Thankfully, the other direction proved no less spectacular.  The wall climbed up to the highest peak in site to bring view of dramatic yellow peaks sinking into the thick forest below.  IT seemed a little unnecessary to build a wall atop suck jagged mountains that rise straight out of the ground, but I suppose the Mongolian invaded China anyway, wall or no wall, through the sweat pouring humidity.  It speaks of their hardiness.  This is as amazing as the Chinese who managed to haul bricks to a place so high.

The rustic Jiankou section, after plunging straight down for a couple hundred hair raising meters (I even had to crab walk down parts for stability), eased into the next section, Mutianyou.  This section was a bit restored to capture more of its former grandeur.  It was less authentic, but no less incredible.  As the wall was less crumbled and had more stairs for the steep parts, the tourist and vendors were much more prevalent.  This section was quick and easy and needed ladder for only a few parts.

After a couple of kilometers, we reached the cable car down.  We gladly paid for the ride to the bottom after such a strenuous hike. The last stretch back to the car park was a gauntlet of souvenirs

"T-shirt one dollar! No? Two t-shirt one dollar"

The peddlers tossed themselves in front of us with cheap T-shirts boasting the climbing of the great wall.

I started mumbling "bu yung" incessantly to no avail. I finally made it to the bottom with only seven t-shirts, a giant panda backpack, three books of post cards, and unidentified fruit pop-sickle, and a had with a picture of Che Guevara on it. Or not

Finally we were through the gates (but not through the hawkers). This is when we collectively made the realization: where were we supposed to present these tickets for which we gave the driver money? How was the driver going to give us the tickets if we needed them to exit or enter? Nobody asked for tickets, and in a place like China, where they squeeze every yuan they can out of you, if a ticket was needed, they would have collected it. Something was definitely wrong here. We searched frantically for our driver at the bottom, unsure if he took off with our money, or would be waiting to take more. We weren't too worried: he didn't seem like the type that would run from a chance to make more money. As expected, there he was smiling and waving. He pointed to the mountains and gave a questioning thumbs up and toothy smile. I gave a thumbs up back and bared my teeth.

Mauricio wasted no time tearing into the man about the tickets. After some arguing, they both walked in separate directions, the man up the hill and Mauricio down to where were waiting near the van.

"He said he bought the tickets, but his wife threw them away."

"Why would she throw them away?" I asked.

"She threw them away because they made no sense!" yelled Julian the German.

Nobody could argue with that.

"Where did he go?" I asked.

"He went to get some tickets."

"We have already left the park!" said Julian.

"How does his brain go there?" I asked. "I mean does he really think we are that stupid?"

We all thought for a minute and realized yes, he probably did think we were that stupid. We did give him the money for the ticket that never really did make much sense.

Sitting around waiting, we weighed our options. We thought of playing hard ball, taking the ride home, but only giving him the 540 yuan difference, treating the ticket money as a deposit. We just didn't want to get arrested. There was the option of ditching the driver and hiring another, but it would have cost more. His poor wife sat impatiently, knowing we weren't being fooled; we suspected she might speak English. We had already been waiting for 30 minutes; could we turn the wife against the husband?

Mauricio approached her, presenting our deal. We'd pay a total of 95 yuan each, five more per person than the original agreement. Seeing that she would come out on top, she agreed. She picket up the phone and started talking, the talking led to yelling, until she hung up the phone in anger. "He's coming back now," she explained to Mauricio. Then there he was, fuming, tickets in his hand. He gave them to Mauricio. Mila took the tickets and after some Sherlock Holmes action observed, "These tickets are bent and used. The serial numbers aren't in sequence and he's missing two tickets."

Mauricio tore into him again about his outrageous ruse. Finally, the two of them took off towards the ticket office, which was closed, to validate their authenticity. A few minutes later, they returned.

"These Chinese, they stick together. There was a man at the office still and he says he sold him the tickets earlier today. We'll have to pay him the full amount to get home." We grumbled and moaned until we realized we'd been swindled for only $4 each.

The Great Wall

The Great Wall of China is an essential part of any Beijing itenerary.  A person can not just skip the world famous work of engineering.  I was fortunate enough to be able to meet with some couchsurfers my first day who wanted to see the very section I was drooling over, Jiankou.  It is amongst the harder parts of the wall to reach.  Many parts have been restored, with cable cars and stairs to help the weak, old, or lazy reach the top.  Others, like Jiankou, are left to decay, get overrun by plants, lose stones, and crumble.  Since these part are not so accessable or safe, there is little as far as public transportation to reach it.  To reach Jiankou, hiring a car from a nearby village is essential.

We met in the morning at the bus station to catch the one bus out to the area of the mountains, so the taxi ride would not be so expensive. Thankfully, we had with us Mauricio, a Chilean medical student who has lived in Chaina for over a year and has a keen ability to pick up languages.  As always, while standing around, we were continually hounded by people, chattering to us in Chinese, trying to sell us something.  Mauricio suddenly started talking back to one.  It is often difficult to know the tone of what is being said in Chinese, the language jumps up and down in odd ways.  Simple things can take forever, large ideas can be summed up in few words.  Friendly banter can sound angry.  I was assuming that Mauricio was finding a long way to say "bugger off", especially by the tone, but then he turned to us and asked, "How 60 yuan sound for a ride there?"  We thought carefully, weighing the ridiculously cheap bus price that would get us within 20
miles of the wall over the conveince of not having to transfer in a strange northern Beijing village.  "I guess that sounds ok," one of us answered.

He told the man no deal and rejoined the bus queue; the eight of us followed.  The man then chased him and the game was on.  They went back and forth, mostly serious but half smiling. Bargaining is tough business, but also meant to have an element of fun.  After a bit more chatting, Mauricio pitched the man's next offer, "He'll take us there and back for 50 yuan with four hours to hike."  We seemed to agree this was ok, then left the bus queue with the man.  "Mauricio, do you think we could get five hours to hike, I don't think four is enough for the section we are doing?"  He thought about it, then pitched my suggestion to the man; he didn't seem to like this new agreement.  "Let's go back to the bus then, he won't give us what we want."

The nine of us turned back and walked once again to the back of the giant bus queue.  Within in a minute, the man was back at it.  Watching the game was fascinating. Neither side could give away any weakness and none of us knew what the two of them were saying.  The man wanted the sale; we didn't want to take the bus which would only allow us three hours at most to hike.  Finally, Mauricio made a sleeping gesture, then chopped his hand across the air, the Chinese signal for no deal.  So, it was the bus for us.

We were finally getting close once again to the bus, when the man came back with what must have been his final offer.

Mauricio translated, "45 yuan each way, five hours of hiking?"

"Lets do it!" I said.

Mauricio gave the thumbs up and we left the line and went with the man for good.  The transaction to nearly 20 minutes.

"What did you tell him in the end?" I asked.

"He told me that if we go with him, he could get us there much faster than the bus, so I told him I was tired and needed extra time to sleep." 

He's a clever guy that Chilean.

The driver was silent and calm as he weaved in and out of traffic, passed on the shoulder, ran red lights, cut off every vehicle smaller than his car for the whole 90 minute drive.  Mauricio somehow was no longer tired, teaching Mila and I essential Chinese words.  The smog and crowds faded into cornfields and out of the cornfield rose the mountains, steep and jagged.  Soon we were at their base in a tiny village.

We all gather by a nut market as Mauricio discussed the plan with the driver.  "He said it is a one hour walk to the wall, then we can hike for three hours and come back down to the village."

"What if we want to go further; someplace down the line?" I asked.

Mauricio asked the man and seemed quite annoyed that he'd have to drive to the next village, but agreed.  He also explained that we'd need tickets down the line.  Somehow, the driver had some sort of connection that would allow him to buy the tickets at a 10 yuan discount.  This sounded like a good deal, so we coughed up 30 yuan each.  This is the moment we lost the game.  He smiled and pointed us on our way.

The trail shop immediately upward and continued this way for two hours.  We had a list of turns to take at each fork, but we soon stopped looking; all trails led up.  I was glad I spent months training for my upcoming Nepal hiking, because this was a real hike.  We were all quite fit, but a young German girl was allergic to plants, so this slowed us down a bit.  We all chugged our water in the hot Chinese humidity and we were getting worried that we'd had brought enough.  We assumed there might be some energetic peddler selling beer and water at the top; there is no marketing niche left untouched in this country.  The driver told us it would take one hour to reach the top and after two, we'd yet to reach the wall.  If we had not seen the thin grey line slicing through the mountains' lush green trees, we might have thought the wall a myth.  The German girl was slowly getting worse and worse as we pushed through the bush.  Our stamina faded as we
realized a healthy heart has its limits.  The water in our bottles were dwindling.  Suddenly throught the thick foreign folliage, we saw brick.  There before us was the Great Wall.

We ran to the top of the first crumbled tower and saw the spectacular views of the mountains to one side and the now tiny village we had departed on the other. The wall twisted and turned up and down the peaks of the mountains.

Half wanted to rest, but I and four others pushed on to a nearby tower higher up the mountain in the opposite direction of our destination. Walking along the wall proved much easier than the hike to it and it only took a few minutes to reach the distant tower. Up the next ridge was another tower. We hiked to the next one as well, and as expected, there was a tiny enterprising chinese man selling beer and water.

Acculturization

When travelling to a new land, especially one very different from your own, a person feels a great need to fit in, even when such a thing is completely impossible. The flight to Beijing was about 2/3 white Americans and 1/3 chinese, roughly. The dinner meal came out a few hours into the flight, too late to be an American supper, yet too early to be a Chinese lunch. My options were slimy chicken with potatoes or weird brown beef with rice. After seeing my neighbors choose the beef, I followed suit; it looked edible enough. On the tray was a bunch of dim sum like cups with shrimp and noodles, a dinner roll, crackers and cheese, a simple romaine salad and the aforementioned beef and rice. It was all a pretty good equal mix of the two different food traditions.

On the tray were two choices of eating utensils: chopsticks and a fork and knife set. I figured since the beef tipped my meal in favor of being more Chinese and I'd need to get used to it anyway, I chose to eat with the chopsticks. Now, chopsticks are old hat for me. My staple quick meal at home is vegetable stirfry and a long ago bought a nice set of chopsticks for dinner parties. This seemed to be a bit of crash course, however, for many of the westerners surrounding me.

"Susan!" I heard the woman behind, voice obscured by food, giggles, and thick Carolina accent, "Try holding one slightly higher than the other, that seems to work for me."

This prompted me to stretch my legs and and have a scope at the people of the plane. Every American had chopsticks in hand, eating with a widely varrying level of proficiency. That's when I noticed that every Asian on the plane was eating peacefully and simply with forks. Was this is a careful mass effort by everyone on the plane to pander to the culture of the other, or was this proof of American's inability to do things in a practical manner. I mean really, who eats a salad coated in ranch dressing with chopsticks?

Safe in China

I have arrived safely in Beijing. More to come.

Test of Email Posting

China bans Blogger, so this is a test to see if I can use my email to post on blogger.

Testing

Testing

Potential China Itinerary

The wheels are in motion. I have my passport, will apply to a visa and buy a plane ticket today. I've been working out an itinerary for China over the last few days, and I think I have it figured out.

Fly into Beijing on the 1st of September and spend five days seeing the city, The Great Wall, and The Forbidden City.

Then I will take the train to Xian, home of the famous Terracotta Warriors .

Next, I will climb to the top of Hua Shan, and try not to die on the most dangerous day hike in the world hehe.

I will then travel to Sichuan and see the gorgeous Jiuzhaigou and Huanglong National Park

Then I will travel through the mountainous Northern Sichaun or eastern Tibet, depending on who you ask, up to the city of Xining

Finally, catching a train to
The Top of the World then onto Nepal.

Music Monday: How I got Over by The Roots

All rejoice, The Roots have just put out another great album. I have to admit, I was worried. Their previous album, Rising Down was only a shadow of their masterpiece Game Theory. Then, to the surprise of many, they signed on to be the backing band for the unfunny-man Jimmy Fallon. Long time fans including me feared that they were selling out, would stop touring and not release anything. The Roots shatter these fears by releasing a focused, mature work, album calling back to their early days as a soul/jazz group with rapping over the top.

How I got over finds them stripped down to keys, guitar, drums, bass, and vocals, with only a few of samples that had beefed up every album since Phrenology. Spending every day playing together as band has made them once again a band. Their playing with various guest artists on Jimmy's show has also made their sound a bit more eclectic, especially when it comes to guest stars who include Joanne Newsome, Monsters of Folk, and John Legend.

The album starts with a dark, chilled out into that sets up a great vibe that continues through most of the album. Every song flows into the other and most songs are catchy and have a great groove. It sounds like an album Curtis Mayfield would make if he was a hip-hop artist. Not until the last two tracks does the album loose its momentum and not surprisingly, these are the two most "typical" hip-hop tracks on the album. The closer "Hustla" is terrible in my opinion.

Hardcore hip-hop fans may be alienated by this album and they have every right to be. This album has "sellout" written all over it to those who haven't really payed attention of The Roots. It is just a further evolution of their sound. They have skirted the line of hip-hop, jazz, and rock for years. Will this push them into the mainstream? Maybe. "Dear God 2.0" is getting a lot of radio play. I can see many singles/itunes-orientated listeners finding the album boring, it is a start to finish type affair. This is another great album for haters of hip-hop to start.

Searching for the perfect Beach

I rode off on a hot summer day to search for the perfect beach. There are many places in our chain of lakes to stop off for a dip, but few lack the milfoil or crowds to be considered a perfect beach. There needed to be some people though. An empty beach can be nice, but people watching is one of the best parts of a beach visit. Too many people though and it looses all serenity of being close to a body of water. I eliminated Lake Calhoun from my search. As much as I do love seeing half the female population of Minneapolis nearly naked, I wanted to write and this would prove too distracting. So I headed North, to the Lake of the Isles and Cedar Lake. The first didn't seem to have any beaches, but was gorgeous and deserted. Being only three feet from Lake Calhoun, it confuses me that it is not more crowded.

It took me a while to even find Cedar Lake, since I took the wrong trail and ended up near downtown. Cedar Lake, once I found it, was lovely. The trails were only paved in sections and it seemed quite secluded, despite being in a pocket between a series of highway interchanges. The first beach I came to was the East Beach, but it seemed just like Calhoun with some trees. I biked around for a while, passing hidden lagoons that were already discovered by earlier riders. Finally, I came across the type of beach for which I was searching. Cedar Point beach. I don't know if this is the perfect beach in Minneapolis, but I was craving a dip in the lake after eight miles of random biking in the hot June sun.

The water was cold and relatively clean. There was plenty of room for sitting, yet enough people around to provide a city ambience. From the point, I could see at least three other beaches that also looked relaxing. There is the legendary Hidden Beach, the hippie hang famous for its joint circles and topless sunbathing. (Post journal note: Hidden Beach is not so hidden anymore. The aforementioned East Beach is Hidden Beach.) To explore the other beaches, I'll just have to spend more days in the sun, reading, writing, swimming and people watching, much like I did for months in Australia. Maybe "home" is a cooler place than I originally realized.

Annapurna Circut vs. Everest Base Camp

I'm in the current process of planning my trip to Asia. One of the main highlights and primary reason for going is to see the Himalayas in one of Nepal's spectacular treks. Since this is only going to be a portion of a longer trip, bringing larges amounts of trekking gear is silly. This will thankfully not be a problem because of the highly developed trekking infrastructure of Nepal. With most of the most popular treks going through either small villages or lodge towns, there is indoor accommodation and food for the entire time. This is called "teahouse trekking"; though not as rustic, it is easier and safer since I'll be in the Himalayas.

I'm am stuck between the two most popular treks, the Annapurna Circut Trek or the Everest Base Camp Trek. Both are ranked among the worlds best walks. My research shows that Annapurna has better scenery and is more of cultural experience since it goes through so many villages. The Everest hike is also very scenic and climaxes with a view of the world's highest mountain.

Whichever one I do, I need to start training now, that means at least 30 minutes of cardio a day, which is not too bad of deal; it'll get me in better shape and get me outside.

Music Mondays: The XX

It has been a while since I've posted any music Monday entry (or much of anything on this site.) Much of this is the result of my usual monday day off becoming a regular monday day shift. Well, with another changing of my schedule, I'm sitting here during the day on Monday, listening to the group I am about to review and thinking to myself, "by golly, I should do the music mondays again....yep. here it is.

The XX - The XX

I accepted years ago that rock was dead. The only bands that seemed to do anything new were the veterans of the world. With each single by Panic at the Disco!, a part of me died. Nobody was doing anything new. Well, then I picked up this album at Target (thanks to a recommendation by Brant). The XX is a fantastic debut by a group that will be setting the tone for the rock music of the next few years. Rock seems to accepted that it has eaten itself. The XX is one of the many new groups leading the way in a "new" sound. Rock is softer, subtler, spacier now. This album shines with thoughtful songwriting, with a ear for pop, without being pop. The guitars fill in a few well place notes here and there. The rest of the sound is dominated by gentle electronic touches, with little snippets of R&B, hip-hop, 80's pop, and club music. All the songs float along gently, with much of the power coming from the trade off vocals of the male and female singers of the group.

The album starts strong with the instrumental "Intro" which was apparently used in some commercial I never saw. It continues off the tracks momentum until breaking down mid-album into the dreamy doldrums of post-post-rock. The album ends with three great pop songs. It stands as something different and rehashed at the same time. New ideas in rock don't exist, but this comes close to being something new.

A more sensible, revised plan

When looking back at my original plan, I realized I wasn't thinking too clearly. First off, to do a trip like that, I would have to have a very scripted itinerary with little leeway for relaxing, emergency plan changes, and other necessary precautions for world travel. It would have been expensive and doable, but I don't think I would have enjoyed the trip much. Too much structure kills the very nature of traveling, i would be essentially taking a long vacation.

So I started again and formed a revised, more sensible plan. Round trip tickets to Beijing are about the same price as a round trip ticket to London (go fig), so this is where I will start. First, I will tour the mountains of Northern China for a few days, see the great wall, the forbidden kingdom, and those other popular sights that make Beijing the top tourist destination in China.

Then I will ignore any political debates about China's occupation of Tibet and take a ride on the world's highest train to Lhasa. I will kick around the area, see some temples, then join a week long Friendship Highway tour to Kathmandu. Nepal contains some of the most established trekking infrastructure in the world, so there will be some hiking in the Himalayas.

Then on to Sikkim, one of India's smallest, yet arguably most beautiful states. This will be followed by three weeks in Northern India, which will include a stop at the Taj Mahal and golden Temple in Armistar. (Essentials).

Next, a plane will take me from Delhi to Thailand, where I will visit Nat, hike in the mountains then spends some weeks regaining my stamina on the worlds' prettiest beaches. A bus or train will take me from Thailand to Vietnam through either Cambodia or Laos (I don't plan to spend much time in either country). I will do some temple touring in Vietnam, then back to china to visit Fai in Hong Kong.

Next, I will travel up the coast of china then take a ferry to Taiwan to visit Ray. Then back to China, back to Beijing and home.

This sounds much more enjoyable.

Here is a map of my plan. Blue is boat, red is plane, green is train or bus.

The beast gains strength

It is the middle of may, the sun is shining, the weather is perfect and the smell of spring is in the air. There is another smell in the air...the smell of mountains. The sweet air of the rainforest. What is causing these foreign smells? Where are all these lonely planet guides coming from? This can only mean one thing. The presence of the beast....the wanderlust gains strength.

I am swiftly running of out time when I can responsibly pack up my life and travel for months. I am 27, adulthood gains strength too, but the wanderlust is a fierce beast. There are many places I want to see, and to see them in small mini vacations is inefficient and expensive. Instead, I going to do a giant trip around the world. Kinda.

The details are thus far unclear. I know that it is going to include Northern India, Nepal, Bejing, and hong kong. I'd love to visit Egypt. I've been looking up costs, tossing around ideas and doing much dreaming and here is a rough draft of my grand, multi-month tour of the Eurasian Continent (with a bit of Africa tossed in):



Red= Overland Travel
Blue= Boat Travel
Green = Flights

It is cheapest to book a round trip ticket places. So London is a good hub to fly to. Start in london in September. Fly through Europe in a quick amount of time (Europe is easy to get to anyway. This I can do at later points in my life). Maybe stop in Czech Republic, eventually going to Greece. Find a ferry to Egypt (no direct ferries, you have to go through Cyprus). Go from Alexandria to Cairo, maybe ferry across the red sea to Jordan or something (the red sea is supposed to be amazing). Fly from Egypt to North India, hit up nepal and sikhim. Then back to New Delhi and fly to Bangkok. Go from Bangkok overland through hong kong to Bejing. Seeing some of china. Then take the Trans-Siberian Railroad across Mongolia and Siberia (in the middle of winter woohahaha) to Moscow and St. Peterburg, then hit the train back to London and fly in February or sometime like that. Sounds like fun? I think so.

Karaoke

I love karaoke, this is no secret to anybody who's met me for even a couple minutes. It combines many of my favorite things in life: Music, good friends, beer, being the center of attention, and in certain seasons, baseball games. I attend karaoke two times a week. Mondays, I go to my workplace, often with Cailin to play board games and do my best Lou Gramm scatting in the informal, nearly empty environment where I practically live. The others is Thursday at Old Mexico, where a large spattering of many of my friends hit up every week. This is a quick to settle many of my social needs.

I try not to sing the same song more than once. If I hear a song on the radio that day that gets stuck in my head, it'll probably be sung. Some Aaron karaoke stats:

Total number of different songs sung: 384 (that I distinctly remember)
Most Sung group: The Rolling Stones (this surprised me)
First Ever song: Locomotive Breathe by Jethro Tull
Most recent song sung: Wonderboy by Tenacious D
Favorite Group to Sing: Foreigner or Meatloaf
Best Songs: Tom Sawyer by Rush, Two out of Three Ain't Bad by Meatloaf
Favorite hated song to sing: With Arms Wide Open by Creed
Worst Song: In a Big Country by Big Country
Favorite Group to sing that doesn't work with my voice: Hall and Oates

Idenity Crisis

This blog is going through an identity crisis at the moment. It just doesn't know what it wants to be. A year ago, in the midst of traveling in the strange upside down culture of Australia, the blog knew very clearly its role in the world: to tell stories of the road and gush upon some WTF moments abroad. After I returned to America, the blog took a new spin on the idea, traveling back to the United States and giving a similar treatment to America. This did not last long because the writer of the blog stopped noticing things very quickly after his speedy readjustment to American life. The blog kept chugging by, being home for Aaron's creative writing efforts, mainly a bunch of essays inspired by the change of seasons. Once winter hit, everything was White, as well as the inspiration. What was a blog to do? It decided to become a forum for weekly music review. This proved to me more of chore.

Then the blog took a nap.

Spring came early, and the blog woke up from his sleep in grumpy mood, mainly since Sandra Bullock won best actress in a great market of performances. What will the blog become now? I don't know. It has tried everything but putting on a dress. Maybe, it could be a home for unending optimism about the Minnesota Twins World Series chances. Maybe.

KFC's Double Down

Hold on to your butts people. You've had a sandwich right? Of course you have. I don't know about you, but I didn't think the whole concept of a sandwich could be improved upon. I mean, it's a sandwich...Well, that was until I saw a commercial for a revolution and not that crappy Decemberist Revolution of 1825...I'm talking the real deal here, the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution of Sandwiches.

What is better than sliced bread? NO BREAD!!

That's right. KFC has rejected bread. How did they do it you ask? They replaced bread, with two pieces of fried chicken. The Double Down: the Colonel's Sandwich Manifesto. Fried chicken, bacon, two types of cheese, creamy colonel sauce and then more fried chicken. This is better than sliced bread....it's a coronary.

My review of the Trailer for the film the Blind Side

Ok, this is a long overdue blog. Not only has the Blind Side gone through its theatrical run, been released on DVD, and earned a Best Actress award for Sandra Bullock. but people have already forgotten about what appears to be the one of the most terrible movies ever made. At least that's what the trailer portrays.

At first glance, The Blind Side's trailer seems like a trailer for a million trite movies I've already decided not to see. It tells the inspirational story of an underprivileged youth, who was destined to be a football player, all he ever needed was somebody to believe in him. A touching story told with just the right amount of minimalist piano and strings to create tears in the stongest of viewers.

What makes this film look so terrible is not the fact that it has already been made many times. For some reason people crave stories of people who overcome the odds to become something great. Horatio Alger did the same thing over a hundred years ago. It is the fact that it is a racist trailer that seems to touch on a long tradition of how white people turn a Blind Side on themes that portray African Americans as helpless.

Here's a synopsis of the trailer:

It's the only world Sandra Bullock has ever known...

A successful career woman with an attractive, submissive husband and perfect kids lives in the White dominated suburbs of some Southern city, let's call it "Atlanta." She had everything she's ever wanted in this world, except a way to unload all of her white guilt from be descended from slave owning plantation farmers.

It's the only world Big Mike has ever known...

Enter "Big Mike" a big black kid who somehow was allowed within ten feet of her child's suburban school, despite being a homeless, yet kind-hearted inner-city youth. We know he's one of those nice black folks, because he gives Sandra Bullock's son props on the playground. One night, while Big Mike is walking home in the rain with just a t-shirt, Sandra Bullock drives by and sees a perfect opportunity to show the world that she isn't a racist. By merely saying, "Don't lie to me!" Sandra Bullock is able to tame the wild, homeless black man and get him into her car. Because ultimately, even 350lb black men need to be submissive to little white chicks.

Even though little girls run away from the giant because he's big and black (actually, he's more yellow, if he was really dark, there'd be no hope for him), Sandra Bullock sees something special in the young man. All she needs to do is give him the only thing he's never had in his short life, a bed. One gentle rub of the 1200 thread count sheets and suddenly Big Mike has all the inspiration he needs to realize his true potential. Being a large, African American male, Big Mike is unable to become a doctor or a lawyer, thankfully, he has other options for getting ahead in this world, becoming a linebacker for an NFL team. Sandra Bullock shows him the way, by helping raise his grades to an acceptable 'C' average so he can get into a college on a football scholarship and major in "general studies" or something like that. Thank goodness Sandra Bullock is there to change this young man's life. Wanna know what's the best part? He changes her life too, cause if she ever finds herself clutching at her purse at night in the inner city or if she calls the cops on some darkie that has lost his keys in the car, she knows that she's still not racist.

Is the film that bad and that racist? Most likely not. I'm sure there is a genuine desire to help the life of this young man. Ultimately, though the trailer is perfect White person bait, cause it paints a picture of how non-racist white people perceive themselves. The trailer plays on 5 general racist assumptions: 1. Black people only look scary, but really, a couple of them, (unlike the card playing, drug-dealing gangsta from the trailer) can be nice people. 2. Black people are inherently lost, helpless and cold. 3. White people ultimately have the ability to give Black people the power to overcome adversity. 4. Black people are submissive too and must trust the giving hands of White People. 5. That said, even with proper guidance, Black People are only able to succeed at sports.

music monday: Closing Time by Tom Waits

Tom Waits - Closing Time

When many people hear the name Tom Waits, they conjure images of a drunk sounding cookie monster belting avant-garde jazz sing-songwriter music. Now, this image is completely accurate; it describes most of his fantastic output. Closing Time his first album was quite different than many of his other album. First off, this is before he became too much of a cartoon character. His drunken piano man persona is definitely already present, but his voice lacks much of the gravel that became his signature. Jazz plays a heavy part in the styling of this album, but it doesn't have the extremely inaccessible artiness of his other stuff. Instead, Closing Time is a collection of beautiful piano ballads surrounded by lovely string and horn arrangements. There are some different styles present. The jazz of the title track, "Virginia Avenue", and "Grapefruit Moon" are places next to low-key country tunes like "Ol' 55" (a hit when covered by the Eagles) and "Rosie". "Martha" a nostalgic trip through memories of lost love foreshadows much of his later work and nearly makes me cry everytime I hear it. Tom Waits uses his voice to great effect at bringing out the sad emotions of these songs.

This stands as a masterpiece, which is impressive since it was his debut. Waits would make albums that rival this effort, but he has yet to top it. This is a good place to start in Tom Waits catalogue of twenty or so albums to date.