August 21, 2016 by trs

Two Weekends on the Outskirts of Shanghai

August is hot in Shanghai. And like most places I have been there seem to be no holidays the whole long, hot month.

Shanghai municipality map This August is expected to be busier than last because of the G-20 Summit being held in Hangzhou, just an hour outside of Shanghai and within the Shanghai Consulate region. Though the G-20 leaders meeting will be held in early September, advance teams and preparation begins weeks beforehand and a large number of staff from the Shanghai Consulate have key roles. As a single mom of a young child I opted not to put my name forward to TDY (be sent temporary duty) to Hangzhou for potentially weeks, and instead volunteered to take on additional roles in Shanghai. Before the madness would begin I wanted to spend two long weekends away with my daughter. As I did not want to travel far I opted for two staycations, of sorts. We would stay at hotels within Shanghai municipality (though outside the city proper) for some quality mom and daughter time, where I could also tick a few things off my Shanghai bucket list. Thanks to a G-20 clean up campaign, we experienced days with some of the lowest AQI (air quality index) since we arrived, with the most startling blue skies I have ever seen in Shanghai.

Weekend One: Sheshan

The Sofitel Sheshan swimming pool – C liked the hotel so much she asked if we could move there for 5 years

After lunch on Friday, August 12 we departed for Sheshan via metro. C was not all that happy as she has a generally low opinion of traveling on the Shanghai subway. Her preference is for taxis. But with an hour ride ahead of us from Jing’An Station to Sheshan Station (with one change of lines), the 5 RMB metro fare (C rides free as all children under 1.4 meters tall do) was more attractive than the 150+ RMB taxi fare. I thought it might take awhile too to find a taxi driver willing to make the one hour journey. So it was worth it to me to drag C, the stroller, my bag, and our suitcase (full of enough toys and books for at least a week) the three blocks to the nearest subway station and through the transfer. Thankfully an hour later I still had not regretted it.

View of Sheshan with the basilica and observatory clear against the startling blue sky

We booked at the Sofitel Hotel Sheshan Oriental. The plan was to arrive around 2 pm, check-in, and then head out to one of the nearby sights. I should know by now that traveling with C never means we “just” check-in and we head out “immediately.” It is almost laughable how much I persist in this fantasy. C is a true traveler and hotel connoisseur; she likes to check-in and then check out the hotel. We were wooed by our large corner suite room, the make-your-own-ice-cream-bar bar in the lobby (50 RMB but the front desk clerk gave me coupons for two free ones just because I asked about the ice cream stand), and the two swimming pools – one for kids and one for families. In the evening after dinner, we went for a walk around the extensive grounds, stopping also at the two kids rooms — one an arcade of sorts and the other with ball pit and slides.

For day two I was determined to get some bucket list sightseeing done, so we were off to Sheshan – or She Hill (pronounced like “shuh”), which is the highest point in Shanghai. How high seems to be the subject of much debate as I found 97, 99, and 100 meters online, but since most of Shanghai is quite flat, this hill stands out regardless how high it may be.

C gets cheeky before we begin our climb

The hill is located in the Sheshan National Forest Park. I find Shanghai to be a fairly leafy city; even in the heart of the concrete jungle of downtown, there are trees on every street and given my view from my 19th floor apartment, many high rises with rooftop gardens. Still I was unprepared for the amount of greenery I found at Sheshan. Entrance to the park is free, one only has to bring some energy to climb. Ninety-seven to 100 meters may not sound like much, but if you are braving it with a 4 year old and a stroller (that you have to carry half the time and push up inclines the other half) in 95 degree weather with 80% humidity, then it does feel like the mountain the Shanghaiese sometimes jokingly call it.

I chose the wooden walkway vice the “difficult path” on the map located near the pagoda at the top of a steep flight of stairs from the parking area. The boardwalk-like pathway was very nice. Thick bamboo forest could be seen on one side of the hill. I had a hard time believing we were still in Shanghai. After some time – I lost track – we arrived at another rest area from where we could choose to visit the observatory or the basilica. I could tell you we made it to the top without complaints, but I would be lying. It was hot and C may have said a few times that she did not want to walk, did not want to see “Snake Hill” (“she” can mean snake, but it is not the character used for Sheshan), and that the whole thing was “boring.” A second Chinese popsicle might have helped us to get up the extra bit.

The view from Sheshan including the hill with pagoda and the conservatory at Chenshan Botanical Garden

At the top we visited the small but interesting Shanghai Astronomical Museum and the pretty Sheshan basilica. The original observatory was built in 1900 by French missionaries and was one of the first modern observatories in China. The basilica is purportedly “the largest cathedral in the Far East,” and a church has been on the site since 1863. C seemed to rally for both the sites but I did reward her for her cooperation with a delicious lunch and more pool time once back at the hotel.

On the last morning I again had a plan – to arrive at the Chenshan Botanical Garden at 9 am, right when it opened. We made it by 10. The gardens, at 207 hectares or 511 acres or 2 million square meters (whichever measurement makes the most sense to you), is one of the largest botanical gardens in the world and Shanghai’s largest green space. Thank goodness I had a stroller and I sprang for the 10 RMB sightseeing bus. We stopped first at the Children’s Garden, which of course is more a giant playground than a garden. But it being the first weekend in August, at 10-something in the morning, it was already well over 80 degrees and climbing. The playground had almost zero cover. C played for about 10 minutes as I slowly melted into a puddle. I found a double chair swing in the shade but I was antsy to get moving. I spotted what appeared to be swans and used them to distract C, and we were off.

The floating bridge in the old quarry

Bridge to treehouse island

Inside the greenhouse

We visited the tree house island, where the water fowl were hanging out, and then headed over to the rose garden via the topiary garden and a long way around the western edge of West Lake. The roses were naturally pretty and the perfume from the flowers extremely fragrant, but with no cover, the flowers and me were wilting. C seemed happy enough though so we pressed on. But as we walked (and C rode) I could feel my enthusiasm for the gardens diminishing. It was too hot. I planned on one last stop – the quarry garden (listed on the brochure as a “recommended attraction” during the summer months) – and then a ride on the shuttle bus back to the visitor’s center. But once inside the abandoned quarry, now a large artificial lake with a floating walkway, complete with dual waterfalls cascading down from the top of Chenshan hill, I found my second wind. The floating bridge led to a tunnel through the rock leading us from the Quarry Garden to the Rock Garden. We walked on, until we found ourselves at the conservatory, a 12000 square meter greenhouse, the largest in Asia.

After about 45 minutes in the greenhouses we were on the shuttle back to the Visitor’s Center. We had survived three hours in the gardens, but now I was feeling concerned about getting back to the hotel and home. The hotel had arranged an Uber driver for us to the garden, but at drop off it was clear this was not a location where taxis frequented. It seemed we might have to wait for the bus that would take us to the Sheshan metro station from where we could catch a taxi back to the hotel to collect our belongings and then head home. But as we crossed the vast parking and entrance area I spotted a taxi across the road, idling. I began to sprint, pushing the stroller with an energy I was sure I had sweated away hours before. We secured the taxi, one of the nice new caravan taxis with fully functioning A/C and no stench of stale cigarette smoke, back to the hotel. Along the way, C fell asleep, hard. I asked the driver if he was up to driving us all the way back to our home downtown with just a quick stop at the hotel to grab out bags. He agreed much to my relief.

Weekend Two: Chongming Island

The bridge linking Shanghai with Chongming island

Depending on whether or not you count Taiwan, Chongming is either the second or third largest island of China. It is 1,267 square kilometers (489 square miles) with a population around 700,000 people. Given that Shanghai total, the municipality including Chongming, has a population of 24 million, that means that the island makes up about a seventh of the total land area but has only 3% of the population. High rises are few – though there appears to be a building boom on the island – and for now nature is the primary thing to see.

I had read about the Hyatt Regency Chongming in a Shanghai family magazine aimed at expats. The island and the hotel sounded so nice I quickly added it to my bucket list and determined it would be my destination for my second weekend staycation.

The concierge at the Portman Ritz Carlton, part of our apartment complex, arranged an Uber for us to the hotel. Even with an Uber it cost us 220 RMB for the hour plus ride including tolls. Once we hit the tunnel to Changxing Island (in-between Shanghai proper and Chongming) it already felt like we were very far from the city.

A room fit for my princess

I knew better this time than to make some big plans after our arrival. There is less to do on the island than in Sheshan and this weekend was going to be more about relaxing. Once again I shelled out the extra dough for an upgraded room that would include breakfast, a better room, and club access including “happy hour,” where we could fill up on a full dinner meal. Still there was a bit of a mix-up with the room, but the helpful hotel staff arranged for us to have a further upgrade for one night to one of the kids’ character rooms. C chose a Frozen-inspired room (though she was also quite taken with the Captain America room too). The rest of the day was devoted to walking (ok, running) through the hotel’s sunlight wooden corridors and the extensive grounds, rocking in the comfy swing on our balcony listening to bird song, saying hello to dogs (it is a very dog friendly hotel, with specially designed rooms with enclosed patios for those who bring their furry companions), and swimming at the pool.

The next day my bubble was burst. My plan was to rent one of the “mommy and me” bicycles available at the hotel for a nice bike ride to the Dongtan Nature Reserve. When I explained my plan to the woman at the rental counter her draw dropped. “But,” she stammered, “it is really hot right now.” She had a point. It was hot as blazes outside, again forecast to climb into the mid-90s. But hey, I am fit and I wanted to ride the bicycle. “But,” she explains patiently, as if talking to a child, “the reserve is very far away.” The magazine I had read indicated the reserve was a “short trip from the hotel.” She told me that it was not, it was actually about 20 minutes away by car. She told me if I took a regular bicycle it would take me at least an hour, but with the mommy and me bicycle, it would take me about three because is is really sloooooooooow. Yeah, three hours one way on a weird bicycle in 90 degree heat did sound like a terrible idea. Scratch that.

C enjoys lounging

First time on a bicycle!

Meanwhile C had already decided she wanted nothing to do with a bicycle that had her just sitting the whole time. She had her eye on the children’s bikes with “stabilizers” (she watches a lot of Peppa Pig so does not even know the American term “training wheels”). I asked instead about Dongping National Forest Park, also claimed to be “close to the hotel” in my trusty magazine. The huge park is perfect for long walks and also apparently includes an area with horse rides, bumper carts, and other carnival type rides. The helpful concierge could barely keep from snorting her incredulity at the proximity I believed the park to be. She informed me it is AN HOUR taxi ride from the hotel. We might as well head back to Shanghai.

So C got to ride a bicycle for the very first time for nearly two hours in the sweltering heat. She was so happy I don’t think she noticed it was warm. (When we returned the bike though, a bellman gave me props for our long time outdoors because he told me he could barely stand 5 minutes outside. C and I are dedicated to “relaxing” at all costs.)

The Dongtan Nature Reserve Visitors Center

Part of the beautiful grounds

I was determined to see some of the natural sites on Chongming – or any site at all other than the hotel. After lunch and the heat of midday I again asked the concierge about a trip to Dongtan Nature Reserve, this time booking a taxi to pick us up. Because there is no dedicated taxi stand at the hotel (it isn’t near anything other than a new retirement apartment complex on the one side and a new Tuscan-style housing complex on the other), she had to call a taxi to come from Chenjia town about 10km away. And the meter starts from the taxi leaving the town, not picking us up. So our 20 minute ride to the Dongtan parking lot cost 80 RMB, about four times more than a similar ride would cost in Shanghai.

The nearly empty gravel parking lot at Dongtan and small ticket shack did not give me much confidence that this had been a good idea. At 2:30 in the afternoon it was still sweltering. Again, there was no cover to be seen and I had decided to not bring the stroller, probably a poor decision on my part. I shelled out an additional 10 RMB for the golf cart shuttle to take us from the parking lot to the furthest stop. At 60,000 acres, the wetland reserve, is no small feat to get around. Even had we brought the stroller there was simply no way for us to really get around to all the areas. Bicycles are for rent, but there are no “mommy and me” ones here. So I limited us to two areas – the far wetland marsh area where one can walk through the tall marsh grasses on a boardwalk and the area around the visitor’s center.

This cannot possibly be Shanghai anymore – boardwalk through the wetlands at Dongtan

Though the reserve is a migratory location for some 1 million birds representing nearly 300 species, we heard only a few and saw even less. Given it was 3 to 4 PM and around 1000 degrees outside, I think the birds had the right idea to lay low somewhere. Yet the sheer size of the reserve, its layout, its mission, and the incredible scenery under those G-20 blue skies, made sweating away a few pounds of water while occasionally carrying a disgruntled 4-year-old worth the effort.

The following day, having decided that Dongping Forest was not worth the two hour round trip for a 50 RMB 5 minute pony ride (which I was sure what we would end up doing), was just for lazing around the room, swinging on the balcony, and snuggling with C. I had planned to leave the hotel right after check out at noon, but I am glad I asked the concierge yet again about getting back to Shanghai. Turns out it is no simple matter if you do not have a car. Chongming taxis are local and only licensed for the island. Therefore in order to return to Shanghai, the concierge would have to call a Shanghai taxi to pick us up, for which we would incur a steep fee and at least a 90 minute wait. My other option was to hire a local taxi to come from Chenjia town to take us to the island bus station. We would have to wait 30 minutes for that taxi and pay at least 80 RMB. Then we would take a bus from the island to the Science and Technology Museum metro station in Pudong, then ride the metro seven stops to West Nanjing road, and then walk several blocks home. Weighing my two options I decided the latter offered the greatest amount of adventure.

As luck would have it, I struck up a conversation with a couple traveling with their 18 month old son whom I had helped direct to the swimming pool the night before. While I was in line for check-out, psyching myself up for our taxi-bus-subway-walk journey, the wife approached me and said they would be happy to drive us home. It turned out the couple, both fluent in English and German, having studied in Germany and worked for German companies in Shanghai, live only a 10 minute walk from our own apartment. They saved C and I from myself and my sense of “adventure” and we had a lovely trip home.

August 15, 2016 by trs

Palau – Islands on the Edge (2011) Part Two

On my second day I was signed up for a snorkeling tour in the Rock Islands including a visit to Jellyfish Lake. I was just a tad apprehensive about the jellyfish bit, but had no time to think on it. Best for me not to think too much. The first stop was at a Japanese Zero, submerged where it crashed in WWII, just 10 feet beneath the surface. At first we just stopped to look at it, but one of the guests asked if we could snorkel there and after just a few seconds of hesitation, and a quick scan at the sea, our guide said “Sure, why not?” The others quickly threw on their fins and masks and jumped in. I was a bit slower – I am always hesitant before jumping in the sea. But once I was in, it was, of course, really cool. And it was my first chance to test out the underwater camera a friend from work had loaned me.

Hamming it up with the mud ladies

We continued on to an area called Rainbow Reef for snorkeling – and it was stunning, like swimming in an aquarium. Then on to the “milky way” where the limestone mud just a few feet below the surface of the water is supposed to have therapeutic properties. We all slathered up and then washed it off with a dip in the crystal clear waters. Then it was on to Jellyfish lake.

Many, many thousands of moons ago, Jellyfish Lake was open to the ocean. Over time it became closed off and a species of jellyfish became enclosed and isolated inside the lake. With no predators, over time, they evolved to no longer have a sting. Our boat docks at Eil Malk island and we walk up a small staircase trail and then down again to a dock jutting out into the saltwater lake. “Ok,” our guide says, “go ahead and get in and swim out in that direction and we will swim with the jellyfish.” Right. I stare at the water. I am not the only one of the group just staring at the murky green water, where underneath the surface teem millions of rumored-to-be-sting-free jellyfish. Oh, and possibly a crocodile. Thanks Tour Guide for that wonderful story about the crocodile sightings here at the lake. I jump in and start swimming.

Surrounded!

Perhaps ten or fifteen feet in I see my first jellyfish and my instinct is to jerk back and dart in another direction. I swim around it. But then I see two. And then five. And then more and more and more. No turning back now. I reach out and touch one. Nothing. It feels like thick, flexible latex. It slides benignly along my hand and away. I am giddy. All of us are giddy. We swim among them. Through the swarm. It is amazing. I completely, well almost completely, forget there might be a crocodile lurking in the depths ready to take me down. After half an hour or more we swim back to the entrance point and return to our boat. Once settled and ready to move on to our lunch area, we spot a moon jellyfish floating in the water. I want now to reach out and touch it and it takes a moment to realize we are back in the real world where jellyfish are not our friends.

It was lunch time and we headed out once again in the boat. Our stop was a small, flat, palm covered islet. From the small beach, the drop off is steep and quick. Maybe 30 to 50 feet deep within 10 feet of the shore. Several beginner scuba diving classes were in progress when we arrived. After lunch I ventured into the water. This was a big deal. Our guide had called it Shark Island or something like that. If you know me at all, you know that I have an irrational fear of sharks and the ocean. I know it is irrational but I have the fear all the same. When I was five years old my parents took me (and my younger siblings) to see the movie Jaws. Apparently I had been hounding my mother for weeks on end to see it. So she did, and I had nightmares for weeks, maybe months afterwards. [I used to think my mother was half crazy to do this but now that I have a 4 ½ year old child myself, I completely get it]. It complicates matters that I wear glasses and once they are off, as they are for snorkeling, I cannot see all that well.

Sharks just below me — unclear due to being underwater and not my my shaking or anything

So there I am in the water, halfheartedly paddling about, trying very hard to appear at ease, while pushing back the scenes running through my head of my impeding loss of life and limb by shark attack. And there below me I spot a circle of divers practicing some basic scuba lessons. And off to the side is a circle of black tip reef sharks doing what appears to be staring at the divers. I felt a flutter in my chest. I might have peed myself. Wait, it is the ocean, I did pee myself. I felt terribly brave and slightly panicked at the same time. But I stayed put. I willed myself to stay put and watch them. I took pictures with the underwater camera a colleague had loaned me. I had just seen sting-less jellyfish and touched them and now here I was in the water within quick swimming distance of some sharks and I was relatively, surprisingly calm. Would wonders never cease?

Monument at the top of Bloody Nose Ridge.

On my third day in Palau, I joined a full day WWII tour to Peleliu island, the site of one of the fiercest battles of the Pacific War, resulting in the largest casualty rate of any amphibious assault in US history. It was here that 1000s of marines were met with an entrenched Japanese force of nearly 11,000, all on an island only 6 miles long and 2 miles wide. Over two months of fighting resulted in 40% of the 28,000 marines killed or wounded. Although I am not a WWII buff I am very interested in history and before my trip I had watched the miniseries “The Pacific” and read the autobiography Hemlet for My Pillow by Robert Leckie, one of the true characters from the documentary who had served and was wounded on Peleliu.

An hour speedboat trip from Koror brought us to the shores of Peleliu, the southernmost of Palau’s main islands. It looked like any other tropical island with palm trees and a short sandy beach. Like any other place in history that has seen atrocities, I felt strange standing there looking at the beautiful sea and sky and greenery and trying, completely in vain, to imagine the horror that both sides faced and wrought upon one another. The divers in the group headed off for their morning dive, which just left me and a family of 3 for the full land tour. We walked with our guide through the small town, investigated several caves (one with a large spider that I might never get over), to the old airfield, through the jungle to see rusted out tanks, downed planes, armaments, and gutted bunkers and buildings. We lunched and the divers returned to join the second half of the tour including a hike up Bloody Nose Ridge and to the small, but informative museum. Our hike up Umurbrogol Mountain or Bloody Nose Ridge, a 300 foot high peak, took maybe 30 minutes. During the US offensive, military leaders planned on 72 hours to take the ridge, but instead it took 73 days. It was a sobering day but well worth the trip.

Storyboard depicting Ngibtal

My fourth day was a lazy no-tour day. I got a lift down to the town center for a visit to the Palau Aquarium. I love aquariums and I try to visit them wherever I can. It was a nice little place, part of a larger coral reef research center, but after actually snorkeling around the actual reefs of Palau, the aquarium could not hold a candle to the real thing. I then walked over to the Koror Prison, an important stop on any tourist to-do list of Palau. Unlike my visit to the Women’s Prison in Chiang Mai I was not here to see a specific prisoner but to call on the prison workshop where you can browse the beautifully wood-carved storyboards made by the prisoners as part of a rehabilitation program that benefits them and their families. I hemmed and hawed between two particular storyboards while chatting with the carvers before deciding to purchase one depicting the legend of the fish-bearing breadfruit tree. From the prison I meandered through some neighborhoods before getting lunch and then visiting the pleasant Belau (as Palau is sometimes spelled) National Museum.

Pouring rain that looked like it would not end but suddenly did, almost sunk my kayaking and snorkeling tour on day five. Four people cancelled. Luckily one other person had not as the tour company required a minimum of two. My tour companion was an American working on a US naval vessel who just wanted a quiet day of swimming and boating in the Rock Islands. We stopped first for snorkeling above a reef and then at a partial cave, more an opening in one of the smaller islets. At another location we picked up the kayaks to begin our trip along the mile-long Long Lake, a saltwater lake surrounded by mangrove forests. It was quiet and relaxing.

Some of the stone monoliths of Badrulchau amongst the lush greenery of Babeldaob

Rain the next morning nearly washed out another tour but again the skies cleared just in time. This time it would be just me. I agreed to pay extra for a solo land tour of Babeldaob, the country’s largest island, and the largest island in Micronesia (other than Guam). Despite its size, only about 30% of Palau’s 18,000 residents live there, and is one of the least developed islands in the Pacific Ocean. Babeldaob. It is a mouthful but it sounds exotic. Unlike the other islands of Palau, which are limestone, Babeldaob is volcanic. It is hilly and still very much covered in foliage. Here in 2006, Palau established its new capital of Ngerulmud, moving it from the most populous town of Koror. Though the capital is the only settlement to have its own zip code (the country is serviced by the US postal system), and it has a few capital-looking buildings, it does not have the feel of a bustling capital city.

My tour took in the capital, ruined Japanese WWII sites, the mysterious stone monoliths at Badrulchau dating back to 161 A.D. (sort of like Palau’s version of Stonehenge), waterfalls, and traditional Palauan meeting structures, it was my conversation with my young tour guide as we drove around the island that stuck most in my mind. “A” spends most of her time leading scuba dive tours. Her father, also a scuba dive tour leader and instructor, worried about his daughter spending too much time underwater and the toll it might take on her body. He wanted her to find another job. So “A” did go the United States for college. Palau, with its small population, only has a community college but no four year institutions. But there are special considerations and scholarships for Palauans to attend university in the US. Many go to Hawaii, but not all. “A” went to the mainland, but quickly became homesick and after a year or so called it quits and returned home where she returned to the job she loves, much to her father’s consternation.

On my final day, I was picked up once again by representatives of Sam’s Tour, the company with which I had taken every single one of my tours. My flight to Manila, like the one I arrived on, would depart in darkness, after the sun had set. I would spend the day at the Sam’s Tour headquarters – where they have their dive shop, gift shop, bar and restaurant facing the marina with beautiful views of the water. I arranged one final tour – a helicopter flight over the Rock Islands. I was joined on the tour by two 20-something Japanese girls whom the pilot inexplicably assumed were my daughters. Seeing the islands from the air was breathtaking. And it was a great end to having experienced Palau from land, sea, and air. I spent the rest of my trip awaiting transfer to the airport, sitting in the bar, nursing beverages, as I looked out at the water.

Sunset at the Sam’s Tours marina

August 11, 2016 by trs

Palau – Islands on the Edge (2011) Part One

[As part of my blog I am posting stories from my past travels. These are edited, augmented, versions of email stories I sent to friends and families, or in some cases meant to send but were never completed. They are at times supplemented with information from my diaries and/or memories. This trip to Palau was one of my last before I started carrying a baby on board and joined the Foreign Service. It was a trip in which I pushed up against my comfort zone (swimming in the ocean with a twist), bent to convention (signing up for lots of tours – because the nature of the islands make it nearly impossible to get to places on your own unless you have your own boat – and realized what things I might be too old for (like running after Taylor Swift in the Manila Airport during transit–I did not do it in case you were wondering. I only thought about it.]

The incredibly stunning and calm waters of Palau

“The Caroline group includes, besides coral islands, five mountainous islands of basaltic formation, beautiful and fertile with rivers and springs…They look very picturesque as you approach them, with the white shining sands of the beach in the foreground dotted with their queer-looking canoes; then the cocoanut [sp]palms, lifting their tufted feathery heads seventy or eighty feet in the air, the long drooping leaves of the pandanus trees, and the dark, shining foliage of the bread-fruit, while beneath all one can here and there catch glimpses of thatched huts of the natives. With a closer inspection, however, the beauty vanishes, and the barrenness and isolation of the island are realized. The heat is intense, and there are heavy languor and lifelessness in the air, which is heavy with the odors of decaying vegetation and the rancid copra, as well as the odor which seems inseparable from heathenism…To establish protectorates over any of these groups must be purely philanthropic work—a laying up of treasure in heaven for there will certainly be none to lay up on earth.” —Harper’s Weekly, November, 20 1900

Palau. A string of small sun-kissed islands in the Western Pacific Ocean. Who wouldn’t want to visit? Certainly not the author of this Harper’s Weekly article over 100 years ago!! Funny, how our visions of far-flung tropical islands (and heathenism) have changed. I suppose if more than just a few die-hard divers, WWII history buffs, and Asian honeymooners knew the place existed (and I am none of the above), I expect many people would like to make their way there. Yet these days even many guidebooks seems to have given up on Palau. Perhaps a decade and a half ago I had myself a Lonely Planet guidebook to Micronesia. I was going to visit Guam and had visions of myself soon after somehow making my way to these other difficult to reach islands. That did not happen. But it must not only have happened to me because Lonely Planet no longer makes a guide book to Micronesia.

Sunset view from my hotel

I had a number of reasons to visit Palau. I love visiting different countries and cultures. But I do have a particular interest in the South Pacific after spending 6 months in Hawaii as a visiting fellow and then visiting the Cook Islands and Samoa in 2004. I am not quite sure when Palau came on my radar – but it was sometime after 2004, just 10 years after Palau’s independence from the United States, after 47 years in trusteeship status. Just a few years ago I started thinking I would really like to visit Palau, but it seems a long way from anywhere. Unlike Hawaii, which, although it is the world’s most remote island chain in the sense of distance, is connected to many places by daily flights, Palau has but a few flights a week, some only by charter, from Manila, Guam, Tokyo, Seoul, and Taipei. Although it is perhaps closest to Indonesia (they share a maritime border!) there are no air connections between the two countries.

I love that Palau is home to the longest river and second largest island in Micronesia. And amazingly enough there are bridges between several of the main islands! I find this extraordinary in the Pacific. Also the famed Rock Islands, featured in multi-years of my National Geographic Islands calendars, are here.

Another interesting tidbit about Palau is that in 2009 the country offered asylum to the 20 Uyghurs held at Guantanamo. Eight took them up on the offer (and on my first day a guide took me by the apartment where they all supposedly reside. According to the guide, they are all “very nice”.) Several months later the US offered Palau something along the lines of $240 million in long-term assistance and in September 2010 the first permanent U.S. Ambassador to Palau started work. Previously, the US Ambassador to the Philippines also covered Palau.

Palau is different. Most flights arrive in the darkness. Mine landed right on schedule at 2:05 am. Despite that, I noticed something was off as soon as I got into the car to take me to my hotel. My driver got into the right side of the car, but we also drove on the right side of the road… Uh, what? When I asked him why he was driving on the wrong side of the road he said he was not. So I asked him why his steering wheel was not on the other side of the car. Turns out, a majority of the vehicles in Palau are from Japan. i.e. for the Japanese market. Though the traffic patterns of Palau are those of the US. I found this confusing because well, the Philippines is perhaps Palau’s closest neighbor (though parts of Indonesia might be just as close, there are no direct flight connections) and they manage to have their steering wheels and their lane directions matched up. But this is just one of Palau’s many idiosyncrasies.

Clothing store downstairs and the German Consulate upstairs. Old school representation in Palau

Like when I went into a souvenir shop and looked at the postcards. First, the selection was really limited. But then I noticed that some of the cards were not even of Palau! I noticed three cards were of Yap, Micronesia. Okay, I guess that is relatively close by, but it is a different country, the Federated States of Micronesia. And then I noticed a card that showed an aerial view of a village. I picked it up to look at it closer – and thought there was far too much land visible for it to be of any island in Palau or Micronesia. And, wait, the houses looked European. What? I turned it over and the card information was not in English, but I noticed the words C. Krumlov. Oh my goodness. I have been to Cesky Krumlov. It is in the Czech Republic! Why in the world would they sell a postcard of the Czech Republic in Palau?

I had only a few things planned for my first day. Buy sunblock, get my watch battery replaced (it died the day before I flew to Palau), arrange a few tours, and take a walking tour of Koror. The live-in-manager of the hotel, Maisa, drove me down to the main shopping center in Koror around 10 am. (well, at 10:15 am she told me she wanted to leave at 10 am! – but hey, I got a free lift to town). I browsed through the supermarket to check out what was available, had my watch batter replaced (check) and bought the sunblock (check). Then I decided to talk a walk around town. Funny, but that morning as I looked out from the hotel balcony, to see swaying palms and the crystalline sea, I thought, “I could live here”. After about 10 minutes of walking in the blazing heat, along the main road lined with nondescript buildings, I thought, “there is no way I could live here.”

Koror reminded me of Suva, Fiji, and even parts of Hawaii. Blessed with beautiful blue skies, warm trade winds, palm trees, and stunning vistas across clear aquamarine seas – but cursed with ugly, functional concrete block architecture. Maybe it is a result of so many WWII battles being fought in the Pacific that so many of the buildings resemble bunkers? Tall, often colorfully painted, bunkers.

I had a delicious lunch at an Indian restaurant staffed by Filipinos before calling Maisa to come and pick me up. She let me know that she had arranged a river tour for me that afternoon and they would be picking me up in about 40 minutes. I was thrilled.

The River Tour was great! First, on the way there, the self-employed Polish couple from Chicago with whom I shared a pick-up service regaled me with their hilarious tales of tourism in Palau. When asked how long they would stay in Palau they said 2 months – but so far it was three weeks and they wryly said they were not sure how much longer they would stay. They said that Palau is odd because it thrives on tourism and yet is not very helpful to tourists. There are few, if any, maps available. Many tourist sites have no signage. For example, they told me how they tried 3 times to visit the Crocodile Farm. The first 2 times they went it was closed. So, on the third try they called the place at 8:30 am to ask their opening hours and were told until 11 am that day. But when they showed up an hour later it was locked up tight! So they parked the car, scaled the fence, and took a look around themselves! They also told me when they arrived and the immigration officer asked them how long they were staying, he laughed and asked them “what are you going to do here for that long?” They loved my story of the postcards!

I am quite sure I would never grow tired of seeing tropical flowers

Once at the river boat tour site we had an opportunity to hold a juvenile fruit bat and a baby crocodile. I think fruit bats are cute. I really do! Their faces look like puppy dogs. It is just when they spread their leathery wings and reach out with their clawed toes that things start to get a bit scary. Still, I held him as he pawed my shirt, then licked and nipped my hand. Until the nipping got a bit too hard. However, better than the little crocodile, which I dropped as soon as he started to squirm…

So, yes, there are crocodiles in Palau! I was rather surprised myself. As part of preparing myself for snorkeling in Palau, I googled “sharks in Palau” and came across some articles about the crocodiles, which some divers seemed a little concerned about. I know I certainly became concerned as well. I get that the Philippines and Indonesia and Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands have crocodiles – they have some fairly large islands – but the little islands of Palau, a minimum of 400 kilometers from anywhere? However, an online search of the worldwide habitat of saltwater crocodiles revealed that they were in fact in Palau. Though there has not been an attack, at least a fatal attack, on a human being since the 60s. That attack turned the Palauans against the crocodiles, nearly wiping out the island population.

While meandering down the river we saw only one crocodile. On the way down river, we saw him sunning himself on the bank, on the way back he swam up to the boat. Otherwise there was little to see along the river – a few birds and fruit bats, but mostly lush green vegetation on either side. It was quite relaxing. The tour was supposed to last around an hour, but I think our guide took at least twice as long. Time seemed unimportant. There was no hurry.

Back at the hotel, the owner told me that she would be going to the supermarket at 6 pm and I could join her. I told her it was already 6:10 pm. That’s Palauan time. Her friend ended up taking me at 7:30!

July 10, 2016 by trs

July 4th Mini Holiday

June was over. At last. It is the busiest season for the Shanghai Consulate visa section. And it had culminated with the Consulate’s July 4th event, our largest representational event of the year. An event I had once again volunteered to help organize.

About a month before I had reserved one night at the JW Marriott Changfeng Park even though its location is only 15 minutes away from my apartment. If I stay at home I find my weekends are often consumed with the little mundane things that capture one’s attention when you are at home. Grocery shopping. Meal preparation. Facebook checking. Watching meaningless shows on television (and I only have three English channels other than news channels so this can get pretty repetitive for me). I wanted to be “away.”

The view of Changfeng Park from the executive floor of the JW Marriott

On the morning of Sunday, July 3 my daughter and I headed downstairs for the taxi queue to head off on our adventure. The taxi driver appeared to have an interest in making a go at breaking the land speed record, zig-zagging through traffic on the elevated highway with a fervor and intensity best suited to the Indianapolis Speedway.

The Pudong aquarium might be the one everyone has heard of, but Changfeng has beluga whales.

But we made it to the hotel. I cannot say for sure if it was the taxi ride, the beautifully appointed lobby, the thrill of having a night away, or the helpful bellhop with the English name Buttery (I kid you not) that led to my agreeing to a $70 upgrade on top of an already $150 room, but I did. Probably it was the option letting me check in right away that appealed to me most. With the upgrade we secured a room on a higher floor with inclusive pricey breakfast in the executive lounge as well as snacks throughout the day. Worth every penny.

According to my plan though we had little time to dawdle. It was off to Changfeng Park right away. Because I wanted to take C to see the beluga whales. Some months ago I bought her a book on whales and she has been fascinated by the idea of white whales since. Watching Finding Dory recently only solidified her need to see them. Imagine my surprise while Googling one day to come across the Changfeng Ocean World. We had to go.

There was a show at noon. We arrived at the ticket line at 11:40. It seemed possible to make the show. There were only about 25 people in front of us. And yet at 12:30 we were still in line. How is that even possible? It could be that there was only ticket seller. But I think the real reason behind the wait were the line jumpers. There were a few people who were behind me in line who kept trying to move ahead of me, but I called them out and they edged back. However there were other groups of people who went straight to the front of the line and after a short conversation with the person second in line, handed over money for that person to buy their tickets. I saw one older woman mouth “you paidui” or “there is a line” as she motioned to all of us behind her and shook her head. At first I was buoyed that she would turn them down, but then she agreed to buy their tickets. Argh!

Which one of these kids does not belong?

So by 12:35 we had the tickets. I thought we could go in to see the aquarium first and then see the show. We entered and went through a small section with fish. It took about 5 minutes. It turned out the rest of the aquarium was in a separate building on the other side of the park. Also, although the next show began at 1:30, they would let people into the arena at 1:00 and at 12:45 a line was forming. So once again we got in line. Luckily we were able to snag a front row middle seat, right in front of the show tank. Unluckily we were now there 30 minutes before the show. More waiting. I was forced to buy a light-up beluga whale toy on a necklace. If you have kids and have ever had to wait for a show like this you know exactly why I had to do it.

The “show” started at 1:32. Well some very loud screaming into a microphone began at 1:32 as the emcee welcomed us all. Then six children were selected from the audience to participate in a quiz game that dragged on for 10 minutes. C was selected after one of the show’s organizers confirmed with me she could understand Chinese. Except the questions were rather complicated, aimed at upper elementary aged. Poor C was likely chosen because of her blonde curls than her chance at winning. The winner got to pet a seal. C was not the winner, but she and the other runner-ups did each get a plush sea animal.

The three belugas. My daughter named them Cupcake, Sarah, and Wonder Woman

So there was a short show with a seal. The winner of the kids quiz show and her mom got to pet a seal. The rest of us watched them pet the seal. Riveting.

And then six more kids were selected for another kids’ quiz. Ten more minutes we watched. Then the two winners of that quiz and their parents got to go in and touch the nose of a beluga whale. We all watched them touch them.

Then FINALLY it was time for us all to watch the beluga whales do their thing. They swam in formation. There were one or two jumps. They poked their heads out of the water and looked at us with their cute faces. My daughter was very happy and that made me happy.

Still when the whole show ended at 2:30 I wondered where the last 3 hours of my life had gone. That as a lot of time for 10 minutes of beluga watching. Part of me wanted to just go back to the hotel, get my things and go home. But there was more aquarium to see.

In my book an aquarium with information like this gets bonus points

Last year my daughter and I visited the Shanghai Ocean Aquarium in Pudong over the Chinese New Year holiday. There we fought the crowds to catch a glimpse of anything at every single display. The cacophony was deafening. After some 30 minutes of the noise and the chaos I just wanted to get out of there. The aquarium at Changfeng was busy; there were school groups, and yet you could still see everything. I was quite impressed with the information placards, in both English and Chinese. They had an impressive number of seahorses, one of my absolute favorite sea animal. Equally impressive were the signs about protecting sea life.

This was supposed to be a cool museum at one time

Then I wanted to shift into the mommy phase of this mini-vacay. It was time to head over to an adjacent park for a visit to the Shanghai Matchbox and Brand Museum. As we walked up to the building I saw what appeared to be a large amount of debris lining the sidewalks in front. Piles and piles of abandoned desks and tables and filing cabinets. And sure enough on the dusty front door was a sign indicating that the museum was closed. Strange. Just a month before I had found an online article about visiting the museum. This is not the first time I have gone to visit a a sightseeing spot in Shanghai only to find it closed, but it is disappointing nonetheless.

We had a great night at the hotel enjoying the cake and cheese desserts and beverages in the executive lounge and just being away.

On Monday morning we headed to the Parkside Plaza mall, right next door to the hotel. Here is where you can find the Shanghai Legoland Discovery Center, which just opened in April. They promised “2-3 hours of fun” and they were not kidding. I think it was three hours and one minute of fun when I called “time.”

This was my first time to any Legoland, amusement park or discovery center, so I do not have a comparison, but this place was not only fun but really cool. There were two rides, a play area with slides for toddlers and another for older kids, building areas, a car build and test drive space, an amazing miniature Shanghai built entirely of Legos (of course), a 15 minute 4D Lego movie (all in Chinese but after a few minutes even I was so into it I sort of forgot I could hardly understand the dialogue), a cafe, and more.

It was a great getaway and a good reminder that not only is Shanghai chock full of awesome things to see and do but also just a 1 1/2 days of fun and a night away from home can be enough to re-charge. Long live the mini vacay.

July 1, 2016 by trs

Kathmandu 2002: Part Two

I should have known better. I went to the same restaurant. Again I had the same plans for the following day: to visit the Buddhist Boudhanath Stupa and the Hindu Pashupatinath temple. Clearly I was tempting fate.

Well, I have certainly learned a very valuable lesson, and that is DO NOT eat a second time in a restaurant from which the first time you received food poisoning. I thought perhaps to give the New Orleans Cafe another go. It might have been a coincidence to become sick after one meal, but twice? I woke up about 1:30 in the morning and dragged myself to the bathroom. Despite my illness I did notice that my two handsome neighbors were playing, of all things, the Greatest Hits of Whitney Houston! So while ridding myself of my dinner I could enjoy the Greatest Love of All and the theme song to the Bodyguard. What a strange place is Nepal!

Buddha’s eyes watching from Boudhanath

The day after my visit to the “Poison Café,” I could barely get myself up. But I managed to eat a few pieces of fruit and have some tea before heading out to Boudhanath and Pashupatinath, the most famous of Nepal’s Hindu and Buddhist temples. Boudhanath is apparently the second largest Buddhist stupa in the world. It is also home to a large Tibetan community in Nepal. All around were monks of all ages in their red robes and women with their traditional garb with colorful aprons, some carrying their wooden beads. I walked up onto the stupa and looked around at this amazing little Buddhist village. It was very charming. I even saw people walking their dogs, when I thought in general dogs were not pets, but just street animals. A sign on the stupa tells visitors in English to not do immoral things while there, such as smoking, gambling, spitting and the like, while all around me I saw people doing these exact things. Several young novice months, maybe 6 to 12 years of age, stood around a gambling area, placing their bets. And I saw many people smoking, some quite young. And spitting, of course! The sound of the throat clearing and the spit is as common as car horns! I walked around the stupa about three times, soaking in the atmosphere and decided to then try my luck walking to the Hindu temple, which I had been told was about 30 minutes on foot.

I headed off in the direction of Pashupatinath along a gravel and dirt path between two store facades. Immediately I was transported into the real life of Nepali people, away from the tourists. The first scene I came upon was a group of boys throwing stones at another boy. Without thinking I intervened, telling the offending stone throwers “No!” They hesitated and slyly threw a few more stones for good measure. I then came upon also three people washing in a stone bath outside, though they were all wearing saris, and a woman bathing in an area outside her house. There were lots of children playing. Along one side of the road a bus stood broken down, though for how long it had been there, who knows, and three men stood talking conspiratorially behind it. On the other side, three young women stood gossiping with each other. Perhaps they, the men and the women, actually wanted to talk with each other. It reminded me a bit of a scene I had seen on the first day as I walked to Kathmandu Durbar Square. One one side of the street a young man sat on the stoop of a store smiling shyly. On the other side of the street, a lovely young woman in an all red sari stood, brazenly flirting with the man. It was enchanting to watch.

Nepalese children

Further along the path I saw a boy hitting some cows hard with a stick. I thought here was a boy who had not learned that cows are sacred in Nepal! I took a picture. This did not make the boy shy; he only hit the cows harder. As I walked, I would come to a fork in the road and would just ask someone “Pashupatinath?” and I would be pointed in the right direction. A few children yelled hello to me, but for the most part I seemed to pass by unnoticed. This was such a relief after the constant “Hello friend,” “Tiger Balm, cheap for you madam,” “Where are you going? Rickshaw?” and “Come inside, just looking, very cheap” calls in Thamel. Also the interesting proposal I received of “Tour? Sightseeing? Marriage? Madam” from a rickshaw driver. Tempting, but no.

I began to grow tired and feel sick. My legs began to feel like lead, my stomach to hurt, and my head to pound. Just at that time by my side appeared a Nepali man who spoke English and told me the temple was not farther. Thank goodness! Although a 30 minute walk would usually be a piece of cake for me, this one was beginning to feel it would never end. The man asked me questions along the way, and showed me the path to the temple and the way inside. I knew I was earning myself a “guide” but I did not have the energy to tell him to go away.

Those who are not Hindu cannot enter the temple grounds proper but only the area alongside the river and up to the cemetery. I paid the entrance fee and he led me inside, immediately to the right of the ticket booth we went to the riverside where the cremations are performed. I looked over the side of a wall and there lay a body almost burned and another wrapped in white cloth being prepared for cremation. My guide points out to me a hand on the pyre. “Can you see it?” he asks. “No,” I say, “and I am not sure I want to…ah there it is.” My stomach churned. “Can you see the foot?” my eager guide asks. “I need to sit down,” I say. That the smoke in my face is coming off the burning pyre and the ashes as well are from this just burned body, is too much for me. I sit down and my head spins and my stomach leaps about. I tell my guide I think I need to go. “No, no, I have more to show you.” I tell my guide that I am going to call it a day. I pay him some money and catch a motor-rickshaw back to town. I feel every bump in the road and I slide further and further into the depths of the rickshaw clutching my stomach and moaning. Then the rickshaw breaks down. A policeman watches the driver tinkering with the engine but does not offer to help, while I slump in the back holding my head and wondering at it all. After perhaps 10 minutes the driver gets us going again and we bump our way back to Thamel and my hotel. I dragged myself up to my room for a long nap.

Cremation at Pashupatinath

The following day I woke up quite late, about half past eleven. I was still tired. I think the air of the Kathmandu valley quite tires me out. I have to use my asthma inhaler quite frequently and I feel lightheaded at times. I was not too worried about getting up late, I am here after all to relax, and I had been sick the day before. I was just worried about being sick still. I decided I would return to Pashupatinath. It took me a couple hours to get going and I did not arrive at the temple until about 4 pm. Again a guide joined me almost immediately and though I tried to shake him, he hung on tight. But he was very informative and I was glad I had him to tell me about the temple. I saw a cremation on the commoner side of the river. Though actually on the same side of the river as those for the rich, in government positions, or in the royal family, the cremations for the commoners are separated from the others by a bridge. For each caste there is a separate platform. On the commoner side there are four platforms for the four castes. On the other side were three platforms, one for rich and high government positions, one for, I believe, the sons and daughters of royalty, perhaps for the queen as well, and one for the king.

My guide told me what a sad time it was last year when so many members of the royal family, who had been murdered in the palace, were cremated. That royal homicide occurred just weeks after I last left Nepal, and things have become even more difficult for the struggling country. I was not the only spectator; there were many more, most Nepali. How strange I thought to watch a funeral. But I thought this in Bali too. I sat and watched a Newari cremation ceremony until the sky grew very dark and the first fire was lit under the pyre. Beforehand each member of the family and friends had gone down to the holy river (which flows to the Ganges in India) to dip their hands in and to carry a handful of water to the lips of the deceased. At last the eldest son dressed all in white and being supported by another man, walked three times around the pyre and then placed the first flame beneath the head of the deceased. He then fled to the back of the crowd wailing; his loud cries could be heard across the river. It was very sad and very strange for me to be sitting across the river from this rite of passage. When I said this to my guide, he told me not to worry for this is human life, part of the cycle of life.

That evening I enjoyed a nice dinner in a cafe overlooking one of the main thoroughfares of Thamel. Enjoying Mexican food, writing in my journal and reading for my exams (yes I did in fact study) it was hard to reconcile the life on the street below, the shops, loud music, strands of blinking lights and people preparing for or returning from a trek or others selling their wares, with the end of life I had just witnessed, but there it was – the cycle of life.

Riding in style – Kathmandu public buses. See the goats?

The next day I had plans to go to Bhaktapur, the UNESCO World Heritage city about 18 kilometers from Kathmandu. Last year my friends and I had decided to skip it because we were too angered by the entrance fee. The fee is 750 rupees (or $10) for foreigners and 50 rupees (.75) for citizens of SAARC countries or China. This time however I was prepared to pay. This time I would not take a taxi. I was determined not to take the easy traveler’s way. I had hoped to take the bus there, and the trolley car back, but was disappointed to learn the decrepit trolley had finally seen its last days. I walked down to the City Bus Park in Kathmandu and asked the first police officer I saw to help me find the bus to Bhaktapur. He kindly helped me find one. I was delighted because it looked to be about a century old!! Well actually it looked as though it was rather newly made, welded together from other century old buses, pieces of wood and carpet, which with grinding gears and horrible exhaust belched its way down the highway.

Beautiful carved door opens to a courtyard in Bhaktapur

The 18 kilometer trip to Bhaktapur took about 45 minutes. I arrived though in good spirits right outside one of the city gates. Who needs to take a 300 rupee taxi ride when they can take an 8 rupee bus ride? My first glimpse of Bhaktapur, just inside the entrance, was disappointing. It looked shabby and the houses in disrepair. But on my left a courtyard opened up, with an old woman sitting on a wooden parapet and weaving on an old loom. Beside her a young girl stood, just in the doorway to this courtyard. Inside women were threshing rice and the yellow grain littered the ground beside Hindu temples. Ah, this is Bhaktapur! From the courtyard I hurried up the street to see more of the city’s treasures and came upon a square I mistakenly took to be Bhaktapur’s Durbar Square. It was wide and open with some big temples and a totem like pole in off center. A lovely tea shop set up right into an old building with beautiful windows, porticos and balconies to my right. I thought I would come back there for lunch, but I did not. As it was still too early to eat, I headed off down a side street. I saw two boys rolling thin rubber tires with sticks; they spun their tires quickly up another side street and away.

Hanging out in Bhaktapur

Off I went down another street and I came upon the true Durbar Square. It was truly beautiful. There were some temples there which seemed like those I had seen in Lopburi, Thailand or Angkor in Cambodia. Along the steps were parades of animals. Once again I acquired a guide, though this one, a student, said he wanted no payment, only a chance to practice his English. He told me his name was Dave. Dave gave me a wonderful tour around Bhaktapur, telling me many wonderful things about the city I would never have known on my own. And he told me about himself. Seventeen, he just taken his high school exit exams and is waiting to go to university. We had cokes in a cafe overlooking the Durbar Square. We had a nice conversation and I watched the school kids just let out of school scatter across the square. I also bought a Thangka painting, painted by my young guide. It was not expensive and it will help him to go to school. Dave brought me out another of the gates to another bus park and I hopped aboard a smaller bus back to Kathmandu. This time I had to stand the whole trip. It was fine.

Tomorrow is my last day in Nepal. Then I fly back to Bangkok for an evening and back to Singapore the following day. Back to the exams.

The trip must have worked. I scored very well on my exams. Quite well in fact. When I graduated I received a gold medal for achieving the highest score in my program that year.

My Thangka painting by Dave

June 26, 2016 by trs

Kathmandu 2002: Part One

One of my favorite pictures from the trip: Temple bells.

As part of my blog I am adding edited excerpts of stories I wrote on/of past travels. I have been thinking a lot on the person I was before I joined the Foreign Service. The person I was before I became a mother. My by-the-seat-of-my-pants travels, the ones without hotel reservations, the ones where I carried everything in a single mid-sized backpack, the ones where I stayed not in hotels but in shared dorms or cheap guestrooms, sometimes with shared facilities, sometimes without hot water. The trips where I would walk for hours instead of taking a taxi or tuk-tuk or rickshaw that I thought cost too much. The trips on which I might wear the same pair of pants or shirt for days. I sometimes really miss those footloose and fancy free vacations.

Still I am, and was, a planner. I poured over maps and guide books, train time tables and bus schedules. Once on the road things could change. If I arrived somewhere and I did not like it, I could leave a day earlier, even that afternoon, off to somewhere else. If I liked a place a lot I would stay longer. But I still had a very good idea of what I would find in any given place. I was prepared. Yet my 2002 trip to Nepal is the least planned of all my trips (except maybe that time I went to Albania). I always wondered if I could be one of those people to show up at an airport and simply buy a ticket and fly to anywhere same day. This is the closest I have come.

Look at those snazzy hiking pants! One of my first acts in Kathmandu was to buy two pairs.

I was a graduate student in Singapore and we all had one week off between classes and our exams. I wanted to get away, out of the country. I decided to fly to Thailand. Inside my bags I had my class notebooks. My plan was to sightsee during the day and then study for my exams in restaurants and in my guestroom in the evenings.

After a day in Bangkok listening to the thumping sample CDs competing with the bars and restaurants on Khao San Road, I knew Bangkok was not the place I wanted to be. The day before, I had met a Japanese rafting instructor who was on his way to Katmandu. I had been considering going to Brunei, but who goes to Brunei for a week? So I went to one of the Khao San Road travel agents and instead of asking about a ticket to Brunei I asked about Kathmandu. A day later I was on the plane.

Now about 30 minutes before landing at the Kathmandu airport I am wondering if this trip was a good idea. For one thing, I have no guide book. For another, I have no cool weather clothes with me. The pilots just announced the weather is in the 70s. I look around the plane to see the majority of people dressed in khaki pants, long sleeved shirts with pullovers or jackets and hiking boots. I look down at my own knee length skirt, a short sleeved shirt and sandals. I have one jacket in my checked luggage. The flight attendants hand out the customs forms. One question asks me to declare how much currency I am bringing into the country. I realize I have about US$50, (US$30 is to cover the cost of the visa on arrival) and 50 Singapore dollars. I cannot recall if Kathmandu has ATM machines. Thailand has them on every street corner so it had not occurred to me. Until now.

I sought calm and inspiration in Durbar Square. I am not sure who I liked more: the uber cool Sadhu chillin’ out at the temple, or the young man just below him staring up in rapt attention

But it was enough. I bought some pants, found a place to stay, and have managed. It turns out there are two ATMs in Katmandu, although I was in a bit of a panic when I went to the first outside of the Kathmandu Guest House and found it out of order. However the owner of the Thamel guesthouse where I found a small, quiet room on the third floor with a wooden desk perfect for studying and a window that looks out on a busy pedestrian street, told me not to worry and to just pay him the following day once I located the other ATM (which thankfully worked because it turns out that the banks are closed for two or three or four days for a holiday).

I am so glad to be here in Nepal. I love the atmosphere. I am a bit envious of all the people I see heading off or returning from treks. There is the excitement of starting something so amazing and the uncertainty of whether one will be able to complete the trek. Then for the returnees there is the joy of accomplishment, of having the smiles and pain and blisters and stories about the journey. I spent some time last night with some women about to head off on a two week trek to Everest Base Camp, and how much I longed to bunk my exams and head off to the hills. I think they would have made lovely companions. But as spontaneous as I can be on travel, I usually remain practical. No, this trip is just for a week.

Festive colors for Diwali and the Newali New Year

I feel lucky to have come to Nepal at this time even though I had not planned on this trip. It is a week of celebrations. First, it is Diwali. The streets are full of lights. Candles and carpets of yellow flowers lie at the entrances to many shops. Groups of children are caroling from door to door for tika, a blessing and a small amounts of money. Tomorrow the boys will receive tika from their sisters. They give a small present to the sister, who will then give them some small amount of money.

Today Kathmandu Durbar Square was full of holiday makers buying fruits, flower garlands, and new clothes for the occasion. The last time I was in Kathmandu, although there were certainly people in the Square it was more of an oasis from the crowded narrow streets, but today the Square rivaled the streets in energy and raucous noise. It was rather wonderful. On the way to the square I was blessed by a Sadhu, who planted a tika on my forehead, put some flowers in my hair and doused me with holy water. I returned the favor with a “donation.”

It is also the Newari New Yea. At first I was a little confused. New Year? I thought it was New Year the last time I visited Nepal, in April 2001. And it was. Then it was the Baishakh New Year 2058. Now instead it is turning 1132. What luck to always turn up during such celebrations.

Because I have been to Kathmandu before and am a little familiar with the

I felt pretty blessed to receive “tika” from this happy fella

streets and restaurants, I can sit and study in a cafe enjoying a cup of Nepali tea or in a Kashmiri’s shop having lemon tea, do a little studying, but still enjoy a different atmosphere.. It feels just right. I hope I feel the same after a week (or even tomorrow because I tempted fate by having dinner in the same restaurant that A&P had our last dinner together the last time I was in Kathmandu, and the following day I was extremely ill. I sat at the table beside the previous table. I think I even had the same surly waiter! But it was a delicious meal then, and it was tonight too.)

I am growing a bit tired. Although it is just 8:45 Nepali time, it is 11 pm Singaporean time (Nepal doesn’t like to have the same time as India, so it is 2 hours and 15 minutes different from Singapore). It’s time to head back to my hotel and sleep. I want to get up early tomorrow and head out sightseeing.

Namaste & Happy New Year

June 12, 2016 by trs

Shanghai Disneyland Trials

I have seen colleagues around the world be involved in some rather substantial events. From important election monitoring to Presidential or other high level visits, from attending major sporting or art events to standing in the room during key speeches of global significance.

At long last I am at post when something of major historical significance occurs: the opening of the world’s sixth Disney park!

We got the “golden” tickets

And not only am I here for the opening but I was able to be one of the few to experience the park before the official opening day on June 16, 2016. Okay “few” might be stretching the truth. The park opened in early May for a six week trial period. Though closed Mondays and Thursdays, each day the park welcomed somewhere between 10,000 and 30,000 people to experience the park to allow cast members and crew to practice and rehearse. So, that would mean approximately 600,000 people would visit the park even before opening day. By May 20 Fortune reported that one million Chinese had already made their way to Disney Town, the ticket-free Disney restaurant and shopping mecca next to the park. But still, for my daughter and I to be two of the lucky ones felt pretty darn awesome.

The shortest Main Street (called Mickey Avenue) and the largest castle

C and I visited the park not just once, but twice! Once we went as part of a group of tickets purchased through a special release to the US Consulate. We had a second chance for a visit because C has friends and those friends have parents who work for Disney.

I am not a Disney expert. I know some Disney experts and they could really provide you with a detailed treatise on the similarities and differences between the Disney parks. I have been making a valiant effort to become more of a Disney authority—Shanghai Disneyland is our fourth park in the past year. We have been to Disney in Orlando, Anaheim, Hong Kong, and now Shanghai—but I still have a long way to go. I can only tell you my impressions, share only what we experienced. And this was during the trial period so hard to say if it will remain the same when the park opens.

I have no personal experience with the TRON coaster, but it looks cool.

There are familiar rides at Shanghai Disneyland such as a carousel, Dumbo the Flying Elephant, the Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train, and Stitch Encounter. There are also brand new to Shanghai rides such as the TRON Lightcycle Power Run and the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. I have heard the last two are pretty spectacular but I can tell you absolutely nothing about them. I have never even been on the Mine Train. I am a single mom of a four year old girl. We ride a lot of Dumbo and Pooh. We meet a lot of Princesses. And that is totally okay. That is one of the great things about Disney. We can enjoy it now when my daughter is 4 and we can enjoy it again as she grows older.

The Fantasia Carousel

Hunny Pots instead of Mad Tea Party

We loved the Fantasia inspired carousel. The Hunny Pot Spin, the Shanghai version of the Mad Tea Party spinning cups, was also a huge hit. I enjoyed the Voyage to the Crystal Grotto boat ride, mostly because it is probably the longest lasting ride and if you have a sleepy or sleeping child it can provide the most break time for the parent. I expect C would have enjoyed the displays from Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, Mulan and more but I certainly was not going to wake her. After holding a snoozing C for 20 minutes in line I was grateful for the ten minutes or so I actually got to sit down. C loved Shipwreck Shore in the Treasure Cove area. It is an interactive pirate boat activity area with water guns, ropes that lift pirate treasure or a shark from the water, and barrels that shoot water out on unsuspecting guests. It was really the only thing for a single mom and a four year old to do in Treasure Cove. We also had fun on the Buzz Lightyear Planet Rescue. It is a fun ride that allows two passengers to each shoot his or her own laser gun and rack up points video game style. Well, to be honest C spent the first minute or so hiding under the dash of our rocket ship so although she came around she could never quite catch up to me and lost something like 240,000 points to 3,200. Still I told her I could never have defeated Zurg without her. Then she wanted to ride again. (I said no because the line was a slow moving 50 minutes at least)

A very cool Mulan in the parade

Merida impresses in the Fairytale Fanfare

I also really liked both the parade and the Golden Fairytale Fanfare, which is a musical show in front of the Enchanted Storybook Castle featuring Snow White, Anna and Elsa, Aladdin and Jasmine, Ariel, and Merida. The downsides were that like any Disney parade route you need to get in place early, so I could only see what I could make out over the heads of the five people deep Chinese crowd (though C got a seat on the ground in front with other kids) and for the Fanfare the “host” speaks all in Chinese and it is standing room only. Although there are 5 or 6 rows they are flat rather than rising. So if you are in the back rows you have no height advantage facing the stage over those in the first rows. We stood in the very front of the second row and still had a limited view. (I put C on my shoulders though so she could see unobstructed) I also really liked the Alice in Wonderland Maze. The “Once Upon a Time” Adventure in the castle though felt like a waste of time. Character meetings with Baymax, Stitch, Rapunzel and Belle made up for that though. You can even meet Captain America, Spiderman, and Darth Vader in this park.

If you think about it, this is the only park in the world where the majority of international visitors will require a visa to visit. Of course international visitors will still come. And of course there are a lot of foreigners who live in China who will come. But the majority of visitors to this Magic Kingdom will be citizens of the Middle Kingdom. And the park has been designed with the locals in mind.

For example, probably 75% of the toilets in the park are the squatting kind. You read that right. And for the Chinese that is not a problem. And look, I have been around Asia long enough that it is not a problem for me. I would just prefer not to use a squatting toilet if I have the option. I am getting a bit old to squat. Seriously, my knees are just not as forgiving as they used to be. Also my daughter is not a fan of the squatty potty as she once fell in. That was not a fun day for me either. So I sought out the western sitting commodes and unfortunately on more than one I found footprints. Probably where children—at least I hope it was children—tried to stand on the seat.

Picky Western eaters, you will not starve!

Then there is the food. If you are a fan of Chinese food or the Chinese version of Western food, then this is the park for you! Rice bowls, noodle bowls, steamed buns, dim sum, Mongolian beef, and grilled squid skewers are all available in the park. If you want a Mickey shaped pizza that is most certainly not Chicago or New York style, topped with seafood and sweet soy sauce then you have come to the right place. None of these float my boat. If you want a gigantic bin of popcorn then be prepared for the super sweet kind. It smells divine but if you like salty and buttered you are out of luck. Western food is not out completely though. You can find German style bratwurst, Australian-style meat pies, and gigantic turkey legs in the park. The Stargazer Grill in Tomorrowland also serves up some nice hamburgers, hotdogs, chicken fingers, fries and salads. In Disney Town you can find a Wolfgang Puck eatery, Starbucks, a California sushi joint, Thai food, BreadTalk, and Asia’s first Cheesecake Factory.

This is joy!

There are a few downsides…

The FastPass system. It kinda sucks. When we went to Disneyworld in Orlando, each single day ticket included three FastPass selections that can be chosen as much as 30 days before arrival at the park. If you wanted to change the ride or the time, you just go online. In other parks there are FastPass machines. Shanghai Disneyland also has the machines but you must visit the Guest Services kiosk in the section of the park where your FastPass eligible ride is located. The line to use the machines was in many circumstances as long as or longer than waiting in line for the attraction itself. I much prefer the Disneyworld model.

Line Jumpers. This was a disappointment. Despite the “reminder for your enjoyment” on the brochure to “Line up together with your entire party, please respect other guests while queuing, and guests should not jump ahead of others in the queue” I saw people blatantly disregard this repeatedly. At the security line, the ticket line, lines at the carousel, Dumbo, Buzz Lightyear, Storybook Court…just about anyplace there was a line I witnessed people trying to bypass it. At the security line on our second visit a woman walked right up and then stood in front of me. When I pointed this out, in Chinese, she turned to look at me, responding in English, with “I did not see you there.” When I indicated this was pretty unlikely as she stepped right in front of my daughter’s stroller she shrugged and told me “This is China. You are not going to be able to control us all.” That does not bode well.

Stitch in Chinese. As annoying as you can imagine.

Language. Although there are English and Chinese brochures the primary language is, naturally, Chinese. You may have heard that Chinese is a difficult language. i.e. You cannot sound out characters and figure out what they mean. Not a chance. Most shows and information for attractions are in Chinese. Disney even created a Mandarin-only live production of the Lion King for the theater in Disney Town. We went to see the Stitch Encounter. I should have known that something was up when there was only a 10 minute wait. In Hong Kong you can see shows in Cantonese, Mandarin, and English. In Paris, it’s in English or French. In Shanghai, It is all in Chinese. (Though in their defense Tokyo has only Japanese). My daughter loved it—I expect it is a combination of her understanding of Chinese and connecting with an annoying animated alien—but I learned to never get in line for that attraction again. Ever.

And as usual in China, my daughter became an added attraction for local guests. She entertained other people in line simply by also being in line. She was photographed by far more than myself and the Disney photographer while chatting with princesses and other Disney characters. It added another exhausting element to a day at the park.

Take the Metro

This way to Disney

I do not have many tips other than take the metro to the park. It has its own stop on line 11 and reportedly even a few trains are decked out in Disney. It’s an inexpensive and quick way to get there and back. Just check the last train times because once its closed I hear the taxi drivers are unforgiving. Oh, and also, if you are riding the metro do not buy any of those beautiful Disney balloons—no balloons are allowed on the Shanghai subway. I found out the hard way leading to once very sad little girl. But luckily I knew before we went to Disney.

So did we have fun? We sure did. This is the closest I may ever live to a Disney park. Though given I am in the Foreign Service (Hong Kong, Paris and Tokyo could be possibilities) and I could choose to live in either Florida or California… I expect to take C again once the park officially opens so we can also stay at least one night in the Toy Story hotel. Even with the negatives it is still Disney and we are on the path to hardcore Disneydom.

May 29, 2016 by trs

The First R&R (Shanghai)

Ah, R&R. Good ole Rest and Recuperation. Or Rest and Relaxation. That time when the State Department pays for you and your family to get out of dodge, er post, on holiday.

The Foreign Affairs Handbook (3 FAH-1 H-3721.2) defines the need for R&R as Conditions of life at the post present distinct and significant difficulties of sufficient severity to justify temporary relief for an employee and employee’s eligible family members during a period of assignment.

That sounds pretty dull actually. I searched and searched for something in the FAH that had a bit more pizzazz but to no avail. Some might not think Shanghai is the kind of place that would justify temporary relief. I will be the first to tell you that we have things pretty good here. Our apartment and apartment complex is amazing. The city is full of great things to see and do. The supermarkets usually have a good selection of fresh produce and restaurants are plentiful. However the poor air quality, the internet restrictions, the crowds, the language, the pace of work can get to a person. I will tell you I feel a palpable sense of lightening when I am outside of China.

This was actually my first R&R with the State Department. Yeah, that is right; Ciudad Juarez had no R&R because well, it was literally five miles from the US. None of the Mexican border posts had R&R although interior Mexican posts did. I will refrain from my personal opinion on this but suffice to say that some of my colleagues were not too pleased that the dusty desert border city with 15% danger pay was a no but culturally rich and exciting Mexico City was a yes.

I am just grateful to have an R&R, even if I have to work on the resting and recuperating.

Part One: Virginia

Jet lag? What’s that?

We landed at 5:40 am at Dulles International Airport. My father loaned me one of his cars for the duration of our time in Virginia, so I drove him home (my parents live only ten minutes from the airport) and then to the hotel. The hotel management was really awesome to let us check in at 7 am. All the luggage into the room, a shower, and then we were off to our first activity.

My daughter loves horses. I mean LOVES horses. At 4 she is a bit young for horse riding lessons but there is a wonderful stable in Aldie, Virginia called Stonelea Farm that has a Hello Pony program for kids ages 2-5. They get to groom a horse, ride it twice several times around an arena, feed the horse snacks and receive a horse shoe souvenir. The program is only on Saturdays and we only had the one in Virginia…so fresh off a plane, jet lagged and all I took my little girl to see a horse. Afterwards we headed to a restaurant to meet my parents, my aunt, and my sister, brother in law, niece and nephew for lunch. We made it to 5pm before falling asleep.

On our second day we met a friend of mine who had recently relocated from New York to DC. And we went to PetSmart because we like an entire store dedicated to animals where people bring their pets to shop. And then we went to Target because I love that store with a special kind of love from deep within my core. You never know what things mean to you until they are gone. Target is my happy place when I come back to the US.

We spent the third day in historic Manassas, Virginia. It being a Monday the museum was unfortunately closed and we did not have the time to visit the battlefield, but we did enjoy a stroll around the historic section. After lunch we drove to the home of an A-100 colleague. A-100 is the 6 week course that all new Foreign Service Officers take. Your A-100 class is like a freshman dorm or hall – it is your identifying mark, your built in network. Although this colleague has left the Service she still remains in touch and had offered my daughter an opportunity to meet her beautiful horse and I was finally taking advantage.

On Tuesday I went into “Main State,” the Department of State’s headquarters on C Street in Washington, DC. Why pray tell did I use up a day of my vacation to do that? Believe you me; the day before and morning of I too was wondering the same thing. Later this year I will go through the mid-level bidding process for the first time. “Bidding is a wonderful experience,” said no one ever. From what I understand bidding appears to be a special long-drawn out form of torture we put Foreign Service Officers through again and again and again. We may have a career but we need to make a huge effort to get each job.

Flags Flown At Half Staff At The State Department After Ambassador Killed In Libya

Not the usual R&R destination

With this in mind my mentor had suggested I consider taking part of my R&R in or around Washington and make my way through the halls of the Harry S Truman (HST) building to meet with people. I embraced this idea wholeheartedly and managed to score four meetings with desk officers working in countries where I have a strong interest in serving (and which at this time are projected to have a vacancy in a political job at the time I transfer from Shanghai) and also a meeting with my mid-level Career Development Officer. I had lunch with two friends who are currently desk officers.

Yet that morning I really was feeling resentful. This was my vacation. I wanted to be vacationing, not networking. Once inside the building though I felt different. First, I was immensely pleased that I managed to get from the front door to the cafeteria to buy a snack and to my first appointment on time. I may have been lost for only 20 minutes. For me, Main State is akin to the Winchester Mystery House. I have actually not been to the haunted home in San Jose, California, but I read about it in a ghost book when in elementary school. I was fascinated with the idea of a crazy house with stairs that lead to the ceiling, doors that open to nowhere, and secret passageways. HST has corridors cut in half, stairways that lead to doors outside but will take you nowhere else in the building, and hallways that are labeled the same number but are not connected. Second, I felt connected to the greater work of the State Department in a way I do not feel at post doing visas. Visas are a big part of Consular Affairs but there is so much more going on. It seems obvious but it felt like a revelation nonetheless. My meetings went well; I have no idea if it will help in any way come bidding time, but I learned a lot.

Phase Two: Kentucky

Off we flew to Louisville. I was there for a few reasons. One, I had never been to Louisville, which is generally, in my opinion, a good enough reason to go somewhere. Second, I was signed up to run the Derby Half Marathon. Of course. Few R&Rs are complete without running a long distance that one is not well-prepared for. Third, my daughter would spend two days and two nights with her dad – the first time she would visit with him without me.

The first day was for my daughter and me to get out on the town. It was just 10 days before the Derby so it felt essential to start our visit at the Kentucky Derby Museum at the famous Churchill Downs. The museum has the right mix of the modern and historic, and exhibits for adults and children. The admission price included a tour of the racecourse, and we were there at an early enough time in the morning to see several horses being put through their paces. It is hard to say which my daughter loved more—the real horses on the track or the pretend Derby race in the museum. I really hope someday to take her to see the real thing.

Next we visited the Louisville Slugger Museum, which was a lot of fun. C seemed a bit hesitant at first, until she saw the Captain America statue out front. She was more impressed with that than the 120-foot tall baseball bat. I really enjoyed the factory tour and C tolerated it enough to let me get through the whole thing without incident.

The following day we met her dad and his new wife for lunch and then the two of them drove off with C to the zoo. (Just for clarification I was never the old wife. Someday I might address our particular situation, or not. But suffice to say we get along and he loves C).

What to do with myself though? Now that I was on the town on a Friday night without my child? With the half marathon the following day? Well, the weather was predicted to be less than ideal, with the rain set to begin around 2 am. And my training had not been particularly inspiring. Once again, I just wanted to get out on the road and run. So, I went to the Jim Beam Stillhouse. Because bourbon was the best thing I could think of.

This seemed the appropriate way to celebrate both before and after a half marathon in Kentucky.

The next day I was up early. The rain had not started in the early am. Even at 5 am the skies were cloudy but dry. A little before 7 I walked over to the start line. Just before the race was to start at 7:30 my heel began to hurt. So, that was a great sign. At the one mile mark my chest started to tighten and I began to wheeze. It felt like the start of asthma. It had stopped bothering me by the 3rd mile. I stopped at a port-a-potty at mile 5 but the line didn’t move after five minutes so I just started running again. Around mile 5.5 it began to rain, lightly but steadily. At 6 I stopped to put on the one-time-use rain jacket I had bought at Target the day before. (See? Target.) At mile 8 we entered Churchill Downs. There are no spectators allowed inside, but I had heard on the TV that morning a reporter say she would be there and to stop at her tent, covered from the rain, to say hello. So I did. We chatted. We did an interview. I told her my goal was a personal worst and I looked to be on track. The rain became harder. I was getting tired. But I kept going. I’ll tell you it was not easy to clinch that slowest time. Even with all those stops and the bourbon I barely beat my next slowest time. I really had fun though. What a great course Good support throughout. I celebrated with lunch at the Hard Rock and a visit to the Jim Beam Urban Stillhouse for some more tastings on 4th Street Live.

The following day I took a drove to pick up my daughter. Her face was glowing. She had had a really wonderful time. She had so much to tell me. Her favorite thing about her dad? His wife! Given how happy she made my kid she gets super high marks in my book too.

Part Three: Virginia, again

A girl, a dog, and a cabin in the woods. This is R&R. This is America.

This time we landed around 4 pm. The jet lag had nearly worn off anyway. We drove out to Winchester, Virginia to stay with my aunt. We spent two nights at her home there and one at her cabin at Stone Mountain, West Virginia. I had visited the cabin with her before. Heck, my sister got married there. C had even been there before for a July 4th celebration. But something about this time felt like it was where I was meant to be on R&R. That perhaps this is where, if I were really after rest and recuperation, I should have spent the whole vacation. There is no television. Internet service is extremely weak, mostly non-existent. The cabin is a studio with a loft. When it rains the pitter-patter on the corrugated roof is about the only sound you hear. The activities? Setting and up swinging in the hammock. Sitting on the porch and looking out at the field. A walk down to the river. Maybe a conversation with a neighbor that stops by to tell you of a rare orchid he finds in the woods. Then a search through the woods for said orchid. A hike up Stone Mountain. More conversation.

We departed my aunt’s on Thursday late morning. There was another day and a half left. We spent some more time at Target, of course, another meal with a friend, a pizza and movie night at my sister’s house. Then it was time to return to Shanghai.

I made it to the top of Stone Mountain and the view is so worth it.

March 23, 2016 by trs

Americana: A Californian Chinese New Year

I have heard the time around the Spring Festival, as the Chinese call it, referred to as the largest annual human migration in the world. It is not only all the Chinese traveling to be with their families, but also the foreigners in China taking advantage of the long holiday to get away.

When we first arrived in China it was just three weeks before Chinese New Year. I knew having just moved to China that 1. I would not have the energy to take a trip that soon, and 2. Even if I had wanted to, it was far too late to book a trip.

It was good to stay in Shanghai that first Chinese New Year. My household effects (HHE) were delivered just the day before the holiday started so I could spend it putting my apartment in order. The streets were quiet and I had a week to get to know my new city. But I told myself there was no way I would stay in Shanghai the following Lunar New Year.

The way the holiday shook out is February 6-10 (Saturday – Wednesday) were the Chinese national days off. The following Monday, February 15 was President’s Day. So I could take just two days of annual leave and have ten full days off. I thought of going to Kenya or Jordan or Thailand. Somewhere exotic. That is what I used to do when I had a long holiday – take a long trip to someplace unexpected. But what I really wanted to do was be in the US drinking in America.

A Huntington Half Marathon

C gets in some pony riding in her Elsa dress and pink cowgirl boots. Because that is how she rolls.

We started our holiday in the Newport / Huntington Beach area, about an hour south of Los Angeles. Back in August I had signed up for the Surf City Half Marathon. The heart issues had started but I positive that I could still train for and complete the half. It was before the Medevac to Singapore and then Washington, DC. It was before I had the heart procedure. By November 11 I was back in Shanghai and determined to train. My plan was a 5K before the end of November, then a 10K before the end of December and finally 15K by the end of January and then just try my luck.

I did the 10K by the end of December but it was really, really, really slow. I had some serious doubts. But my virtual group of runners trying to hit the roads and trails all around the world encouraged me to still try – that the time would not matter. And a very good friend currently posted to Washington, DC said she would fly out to run with me.

Before the half C and I just sampled the joys of being back in the US. Our first day in the States involved landing, renting a car, and then driving down the coast in Friday afternoon Orange County traffic. So it was pretty great.

For our first full day I took my pony-loving daughter to Irvine Regional Park for pony rides and a visit to the zoo. We had hot dogs and French Fries and sat outside in the glorious Southern California sunshine. Such a change from the cold, overcast, smoggy skies of a Shanghai winter.

I got me some race bling. And some running zen.

The morning of the half the sitter arrived from Mollycoddlers, an Orange County sitter and nanny service. (I am sure lots of people have wondered how I do these half marathons in different parts of the country as a single mom. The answer is a hotel babysitting service!). I met my friend in the lobby of our Huntington Beach hotel for the race shuttle to Newport Beach. We had a lot of time on the shuttle and at least an hour at the race hotel before the start to catch up. It was important because although we have run several races together, we do not actually run side by side as her pace is a good two minutes per mile faster than mine.

I had no idea how the half would go. My training had been haphazard. I was jet lagged.

The temperatures were unseasonably warm. Yet it was a good course. Flat. I did not care about my time. I ran a half for the first time in a long time without a running watch (it had been in the unfortunately misappropriated bag lost to the taxi driver in December). I walked through each water stop. I had fun. I told myself I could finish in three hours if I needed to. But I didn’t. It wasn’t even my slowest half.

I realize that many people might be shaking their heads – why in the world would anyone run a half marathon on their vacation? For me though, when I run, when I was running, I was not a mom, I was not a visa adjudicator, it was just me running in the sunshine on a course with a bunch of other strangers – all of who have their own reasons and goals for running. It’s liberating.

Afterwards, it being Superbowl Sunday, C, my friend, her boyfriend, and I sat in the hotel bar, watched part of the game and the half time show, and ate and drank. If that isn’t Americana, then I don’t know what is.

Friends, Family, and Disney

When I was 11 years old my mom took my sisters and I to LA. I begged to go to the La Brea Tar Pits, but we didn’t. I had to close the circle.

After Newport Beach we headed south to Carlsbad to stay with my mother’s cousin who I had not seen since I was twelve years old. Now I am….much older. Yet despite the years, when I reached out to her she responded immediately to my email and invited C and I to stay with her. We had such a wonderful time and her husband and their therapy dog. We also drove down to San Diego to meet up with a friend from my Jakarta book club days and on another day we met a grad school friend at the La Brea Tar Pits.

Back in my pre-State, pre-mom days my vacation modus operandi was generally to fly solo to another country or another continent but rarely to visit home. Maybe it is age or being a mother or this particular career, but I have a strong desire to spend more time reacquainting myself not only with friends and family but also with my country.

I felt such incredible joy driving a car down US highways, listening to Top 40 radio stations, or lying awake jet lagged watching American television programming featuring tiny houses. Even billboards featuring Serta mattresses make me deliriously happy. There were several times when apropos of nothing I simply stretched out my arms and yelled “I love you America!”

But I am familiar with America. For me a trip home is celebration of the things I love and miss (or even had no idea I missed) and want to revisit and carry back in me. For my daughter though, it is not a place she knows well. In her four years of life she has lived only a quarter of it in the States.

A few weeks before traveling to the US I read an online parenting article aimed at American parents and their propensity to take their kids to Disney on vacation. The author’s goal is to encourage parents to broaden their children’s horizons, which is certainly admirable. But there is nothing wrong with taking your kids to Disney. Disney is the quintessential Americana. And I very much want to give my child those kinds of experiences. She may not always or even ever just be able to get on a bicycle and ride around a neighborhood. So if I can give her Disney and quality zoos and snow cones and ballpark hot dogs on occasion, I will.

This happy face needs no caption.

After nine days in beautiful Southern California it was time to head back to Shanghai. I am not sure that I did this, but I hope I took a sufficiently long deep breath of the good air quality air and closed my eyes and savored the warm feel of the SoCal sun on my face.

January 31, 2016 by trs

Hong Kong Birthday

At the Lantau Island Buddha in the summer of 1996. I look pretty stunned, which could explain why I have no recollection of this at all.

Hong Kong. To me, it is one of those places the very name evokes a sense of adventure and excitement. I first visited in the summer of 1996, a vacation from my English teaching job at an after school cram school in Seoul, South Korea. It was part of a wildly concocted two week trip that would include Hong Kong, Macao, Guam, an unexpected stopover in Saipan due to a typhoon in my flight path, and Guangzhou. The most thrilling part I recall was running full speed down a pier in Hong Kong and jumping aboard the boat that would take me overnight to Guangzhou, the gangplank pulled in behind me. The second time was in the spring of 1999; I was an English teacher in the government-sponsored JET Program in Yamaguchi, Japan and spent a few days exploring Hong Kong while securing my visa to re-visit Beijing. I must have gone up Victoria Peak in the tram that second time. Yet all I have are a few vague memories of cold, bureaucratic, but quick formalities at the Chinese Consulate.

How had it been so very long ago since I had visited? I wanted to visit Hong Kong once again. After some research online – determining that January was one of the best months in the territory – I decided my daughter’s birthday over the Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend was the time to go.

Back in August, when I bought the tickets, it seemed quite reasonable and exciting to have trips planned for September/October (Dominican Republic), November (Chengdu), December (Sanya), and January (Hong Kong). By the time the Hong Kong trip was rolling around though I had instead come to the conclusion that I must have made these plans in a fit of insanity, possibly a function of having nearly survived a summer without leave through the biggest visa demand period in history. Maybe. Or maybe I just do crazy stuff like this all the time? (My past travel record would, I expect, point to the latter)

The Dominican Republic trip happened of course and it was wonderful. But Chengdu was cancelled because of my unanticipated month-long Medevac back to Washington, D.C. And Sanya, yeah, that one was far less restful than expected. (See Shanghai Escape, Derailed)

A colder and wetter view than I had expected. Star Ferry ride over to Hong Kong Island.

Given the Sanya episode I approached the Hong Kong trip as a nervous travel maniac. I double-checked, triple-checked, quadruple-checked the departure time of the flight daily on a travel website to make sure the flight time did not change. The last thing I wanted to do was miss a flight…again. I decided not to check a single piece of luggage. I hesitated to bring the newly purchases Kindle Fire Kids Edition (the replacement for the lost/stolen iPad), but in the end placed it and several other belongings into a new tote that would, I hoped, never leave my eyesight.

My soon-to-be four year old daughter too seemed traumatized by the Sanya episode. When a week before our trip she accidentally punctured a colorful sport ball we had had since Juarez and I informed her that we would need to throw it away, she broke down in sobs. “No,” she blubbered, “I don’t want to lose any more toys.” She insisted that the deflated ball was now her second most favorite toy in the world, after her beloved stuffed animal Black Cat, and that Pink Ball should also come with us to Hong Kong. I said no but then relented, imagining the hilarious pictures of Pink Ball in various Hong Kong locations. Unfortunately the day before departure I could not locate Pink Ball. <sigh>

The day before departure I wondered if maybe we needed to be at the airport earlier than expected? Sure enough I checked with a colleague who had just been and yes, we would be traveling through the international terminal and passport control on both ends. I thanked my lucky stars I knew that before rather than after the flight. Visions of Sanya, and the missed flight that started it all, swam through my brain.

Still the flight left late. I thought back to when I lived in China in 1994 and how foreigners fondly changed the acronym for the Civil Aviation Administration of China (CAAC) to “China Airlines Always Cancel.” I have heard that every single commercial flight in China must be cleared before take-off through an office in Beijing. I do not know if it is true, but I have yet to be on a flight that departed on time. Only flights we were not on (i.e. to Sanya).

Maybe it is Nathan Road or my own limited outings in Shanghai, but Hong Kong sort of felt more Chinese to me than China. Except with Facebook.

January is supposed to be one of the best months to visit Hong Kong. I read online, it has the lowest amount of rainfall and the most comfortable temperature. So imagine my dismay as I checked, and re-checked the weather report for our trip dates, and it was not only colder than expected but predicted to rain four out of the five days. Over 80% chance of rain each day, including our days at Disneyland and on C’s birthday.

Despite the late flight, the rain, the colder-than-expected temps, I felt pretty pumped when we landed and as we rode into town on an airport bus to central Kowloon. A very kind Indian woman, resident in Hong Kong for fifteen years, not only engaged my daughter in conversation on the bus, sharing photos of her own recent trip to Hong Kong Disneyland and explaining she was pretty good friends with the Princesses, but also helped us to get down from the crowded bus when we reached our stop. The ten minute walk down three long city blocks through the cold misty rain did not damper my spirits.

We arrived at our hotel, down a side street in Mongkok, somewhere near where I must have stayed in a cheap cramped guesthouse with friends in 1996, and in our room I posted direct to Facebook. Freedom. Hong Kong may have been returned to China, but with an international flight and immigration checks to get here and a very different Internet environment, it certainly did not feel like China.

On our first full day out in Hong Kong disaster struck. C lost Black Cat, her much-adored stuffie who had been with us for over two years. For a little stuffie Black Cat sure got around. He or she, C referred to it as both, went with us everywhere from the grocery store to museums to across the globe. Black Cat had been to seven countries and territories and approximately sixteen US states. I thought Black Cat would be the stuffie that C would hold onto forever, into adulthood. But Black Cat must have used up his nine lives. He had been dropped, run over by the stroller, left behind and retrieved, so many times that our second chances had finally run out.

The last known whereabouts of Black Cat

I took a picture of C sitting on a bollard near the Star Ferry terminal. She has Black Cat. Then she hops over to the stroller and informs me we need to make a pit stop before we head to the ferry. I spy a public bathroom just 50 feet away and off we go. By the time we make it to the stall she no longer has Black Cat. We run outside but in that space of time and physical space we have lost the stuffie; he/she is nowhere to be seen. C is inconsolable. She bawls loudly as I push her through the ferry terminal and onto the vessel. Huge tears roll down her face as she sits on the ferry. She sobs out loud “Black Cat, don’t leave me. Please come back. I miss you so much!” I tell her I am so sorry and ask if there is anything I can do. “Yes,” she tells me, “find my Black Cat.” There is nothing I can do. I tell her this. There is no reason to sugar coat it although I feel like the worst mom in the world.

On the other side, on Hong Kong Island, we meet up with my friend L who back in 2001 took a summer intensive Chinese class with me in Monterey, CA. We were roommates that summer and we both graduated from the Monterey Institute of International Studies. She has been living in Asia, in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Singapore for most of the intervening years. This is not how I wanted her and her children to meet my normally high-spirited, effervescent daughter, now in the throes of her greatest loss. But it is what it is. And surprisingly, C, after pouting for a good 30 minutes, warms up to them all and is in good spirits at lunch.

I should have known something was up. By the time we return to the hotel by 4 PM she is calm and rested, having napped in the stroller the whole walk back from Tsim Sha Tsui. However, when she wakes she informs me that she will simply ask Santa to bring her Old Black Cat next Christmas. I am amazed at her creativity and feel like the Grinch when I tell her this is beyond Santa’s powers.

The next day we wake. It is Sunday and C’s 4th birthday. I again feel pretty bad about letting Black Cat get away. However, when I ask C about it she informs me, “Black Cat likes Hong Kong and has decided to move here to be with his Grandma and Grandpa.” I am stunned. Four years old and already so grown up. Plus Black Cat is one very wise stuffie; I too want to move to Hong Kong.

Hello wonderful Disney Hollywood Hotel.

We meet my friends D&B, who had come down from Guangzhou to visit Disneyland with us, down in the lobby. It is raining cats and dogs, heavy sheets of rain are shot down from the cold, steel grey sky. It looks like an unfortunate day to visit an amusement park. We cannot get a taxi. It is also the day of the Hong Kong Standard Chartered Marathon and no taxis are able to get to our particular road. We wait. The rain lets up and we all decide to try to walk over to the MTR stop some fifteen minutes away to try to take the train to Disneyland (there is a stop at the park). We are lucky to find a nice taxi driver willing to give it a go.

When we pull up to our hotel, the Disneyland Hollywood Hotel, the whole place smells like fresh flowers after the rain; it is a lush desert oasis after a terrible sandstorm. There on the red carpet leading to the hotel I cancel my hotel the following night near the airport and book a second night at the Disney hotel. The magic of Disney was already working on me.

We store our bags and head straight to the park. The sun, believe it or not, comes out. I know I cannot believe it but I am thrilled. I may have even danced a jig. I may have thrown my arms out and thanked the Gods, Mother Nature, or Kismet for this blessed event. I had wanted this day to be perfect for C and though determined to make it so despite the rain, I was glad I did not have to contend with a soggy day.

Of course we met with several princesses! Ariel wins for most awesome because she spent a lot of time with the birthday girl, even playing a little game of tag with her.

We rode the carousel, two times; it remains C’s favorite ride. We all took a spin on the tea cups, which by the way are not built for three adults and one child. Nor for someone my age who sometimes feels sick in the backseats of cars after spending so little time in them while living much of my adult life overseas. A trip on the Jungle River Cruise revealed that natives shooting arrows from an unfriendly village and a mountain that breathes fire are not four year old fare. I read the warning after the ride. Oops. Yet we even rode Space Mountain, C’s first roller coaster. I could scarcely believe that she met the height requirement, but she did. Just. Once the ride started I felt kind of bad to have brought her on, remembering my own fear riding this same attraction when I visited Disneyland California at age eleven. It was sort of hard to hear C crying over my own screams. Yet she surprised me once again when she declared at the end (after heaving a huge sigh of relief that we had survived), “I had to cry a little bit, but it was okay.”

We took a break, returned to the hotel, checked in and enjoyed a walk around the grounds and a rest before returning in the evening for the parade and fireworks show. I had expected just a good parade and then some good fireworks. Both were beyond anything I could have imagined. I sort of felt that other people who had been to Disney had been sworn to some secret oath not to reveal the true amazingness of the spectacle.

We said goodbye to D&B the following morning after breakfast and C and I returned to the park for another day of fun. The weather was even better than the day before. As a result, despite it being a Monday, the crowds were larger and the wait times for rides longer. More carousel time, a whirl on the Disneyland railroad, a visit with Anna and Elsa and Cinderella and we managed the Winnie the Pooh and Dumbo rides despite the longer lines. We called it an earlier day so I was very glad to be able to relax in our lovely Disney hotel room and catch the movie Up with C in the lobby bar and restaurant.

The next morning as we departed for the airport right after the 11 am check-out it had grown cold again, the fog so thick that visibility was very limited. Had we tried to head to the Lantau Buddha, my original plan until I realized that getting there would take more time than we had, we would not have seen much. Our flight was not until 4 pm but the man at the check-in counter moved us to a flight leaving an hour earlier. Of course though, this being a Chinese flight, it left an hour late…

All in all, even with the loss of Black Cat, Hong Kong turned out to be a wonderful getaway.

The view from our Disney hotel room on a beautiful, clear Hong Kong morning

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