A Great Good Goodbye

I regret to inform you, that due to a crazy ending schedule and the fact that the voyage ends tomorrow morning, I did not have time to post about Japan. What I can tell you is this. Japan is a truly unique, gorgeous, intelligent country with an immense amount to offer. We all mentioned to each other that Japan was the smallest country we visited with the most to do. The people are amazing; they exude luxury and love living life. The people of Japan certainly like to have a good time, I can’t tell you the number of people, locals, that were being carried home each night after a stint with some Sake. In most cases, no matter what day of the week, they seemed to enjoy partying more than we did; we crazy sailors as my father liked to call us.

In the five days we were there, I spent three in Kyoto…yes, that’s where the Protocol that W. won’t sign is from, a half-day in Osaka and the remainder of the time in Kobe. I wish I could have had more time, more so than any other country. The conveniences of Japan are countless; heated toilets in public bathrooms, amazing and incredibly efficient public transportation systems, and a country overflowing with beauty and ambiance. The details would be greater than any other country, which is partly the reason Japan is in my top three. Again, I stress that I have a top three countries of those visited: India, Japan, and Vietnam. However, those are listed alphabetically, not numerically.

As for the past two weeks at sea, it feels like only yesterday we left Japan. And at the same time, it feels like we were there a year ago. The Pacific is quite an ocean. Its waters never stop churning, always filled with fluffy whitecaps and swells that stun and surprise the ship as she sails along. Of course she continues sailing on with out hesitation and cruises onward as the waters around her mix and mesh at their disposal. There is more personality to the Pacific. There were times when the Atlantic was dead calm, the same with the Indian Ocean; but the Pacific, the Pacific Ocean, the biggest body of water in the world is never calm. The waters are always moving and there is never a stillness to the sea.

The ocean has been a large part of these last few weeks at sea. For obvious reasons, number one being is that it’s all we’ve got out here in this world of vast openness that leads to nothing but more openness. A horizon line that fades into itself, constantly moving because of the sway of the sea. There have been studies done that have proved that oceans have rivers within them; currents of massive power that take water, sediment, and life to so many other parts of the world. The oceans are always changing; in a sense, the oceans are a perfect parallel to the world around us. Granted, they are the biggest part of this very world around us, but as far as people and land and countries are concerned; change is endless. Whether it is for good or bad is one thing, but clearly, like the currents of the sea, people can be spread to all parts of the world in just a short matter of time.

This voyage has been about being carried away to far off places that the eyes can only dream of seeing, that the mind only imagines. Like the surprising skyline in Brazil or the energy of the fans in that massive Futbol stadium that fuels one of the great growing countries in our world. Or perhaps it is the way the clouds in the sky over Cape Town’s Tabletop mountain so gracefully form a tablecloth that just so lightly and elegantly swathe the mountain top as if it were the finest of table linens in the world. Or the hustle and bustle of what is Incredible India, the second most populous country in the world with the largest democracy; a rural country side that has yet to see any form of modern technology because they live from what the land provides. Of course the repressed people of Myanmar who so delightfully smile as you pass them by and offer their help whenever they see you may be in need. And yes, the great food of Vietnam, in addition to the talents of the tailors, and uses of the riverways; the abundance of scooters in the streets and the old-world ways of the Mekong Delta where you actually feel like you are in Vietnam. The access in Hong Kong; the abundance in Hong Kong; the life that is Hong Kong. Oh and Shanghai, oh Shanghai…the fastest growing city in the world with a skyline that dates forward 100 years. The outrageous bargaining in the Market Place and need to accept the culture that makes China. The dullness that makes up Qingdao, but the coastline that gives it the beauty, and Lao Shan that provides adventure. And Japan. Japan. The way the Cherry Trees line the streets and are only in bloom for 1-2 weeks a year…and we saw it. Hills, streets and mountains filled with Cherry blossoms, white and pink, bring a smile as you walk by them, the beauty that they add, the ambiance they set. And the breathing of luxury; materially and intelligently, there is not one thing missing from Japan.

You know, I’ve thought about what this last entry would be like since I started blogging this voyage, and I still have no idea what its going to be like or what it should be like. How can you simply summarize 100 days of traveling chaos? I have no idea, and I’m not sure anyone does. I think, the best thing we can do is reflect; reflect on the adventures had and the memories made. The people you met and the friends you’ll have forever. I came on this trip, along with everyone else that is on this ship, not having any idea what to expect. If I were to do it all over again next spring, I would come on thinking the same thing. Nothing done on this trip could be done again, there are no repeats in the world, experiences are always different, things are always changing.

Still at sea, it is really incredibly difficult to properly reflect and be the change that this trip has made you. In all of our conversations on board, we talk about how this is not going to hit us for a week, a month, a year. I have no doubt it will be a lifetime of reflection and adaptation. There will always be that second when you think back to that time at sea, or that memory of India, or that moment you actually can remember on Spring Break in Mauritius.

I’ve written so much about my travels, and I’ve tried to do it with so much detail. In a sense, when I do write about it, I don’t go out of my way to find these details, they are there, and they are vital to the picture of the story. The details create the experience, I could not have written one thing differently, with more or less writing. More maybe, but I think I dragged on enough at times.

I feel like this is some sort of eulogy. I’m closing the chapter or turning the page in the book that is life. God, I think this trip has turned me into some damn mushy writer now too. But it makes sense. It was such a short time, so hey, it very well could only be a page in what makes up the big book or picture, if you will. Experiences fill the page with words, knowing you’ll have that memory is what turns that page and begins a new one.

I can’t thank all of you enough for reading and enjoying all that I had to say. It really meant a lot to stay connected with all of you via this massive blog. I could see the smile on your face that accompanied your message. I especially can’t thank my wonderful family enough…for everything. Putting up with me in general is a project, but putting up with me on this trip even more. The fact that they came to visit me in one of the best ports on the trip is absolutely priceless. Our memories are vivid and will be everlasting because of that great opportunity they pounced on when it came about.

Well, that’s it. I’m happily coming back into these great United States. I hope my experiences have done something for you. I’ll be in California for about two weeks and will be home sometime in early May. San Diego to LA and then further north to San Francisco is the tentative agenda. I’m hoping to keep posting as I continue to travel, though I know that it will not be nearly as exciting as the past three and a half months of travel posting have been.

There is nothing on this trip I regret, nothing, not anything at all that I would have done differently. The new friends, the fond memories, and unforgettable experiences have done so much. You know, when I’m writing, I try to be creative as possible, put spice into it to add to what you read. Through alliteration, repetition, rhythm or rhyme. But now, in concluding these past 99 days, simplicity is in order. A thank you to all for making this what it was. There are no words, no phrases…nothing that can truly express what should be said, or to articulate the emotions that I’ve yet to feel. That same numb feeling is back, as it was when I had just left for the trip…when I was a virgin of the globe if you will…and now, now that has all changed.


Ok then. I’ll be seeing you sooner than you know it.

P.S. I’m still hoping to post something about Japan, yes it is weird that it will come after my closing remarks, but the country deserves a proper post…so I’ll do my best. Cheers!

The Great Hong Kong and Big Ol' China

FYI: Its another novel…

Wow. To think back to China, knowing it was only about two weeks ago is like thinking back and reflecting over a lifetime. So much can happen in such a short amount of time, it is truly unreal that I am now on my last stretch of this journey. China was amazing - Japan even more so. But we’ll get to that later.

Lets talk about location. As of right now, April 21, 2006, we are about a day away from Hawaii (7 hours ahead of EST). I’ve got several locations for you to track, if you so choose:

April 20, 2006 PART UN:
Latitude: 26 degrees 6.9 minutes N
Longitude: 173 degrees 20.4 minutes E
Avg Speed: 20.35 K
Distance to HA: 1617NM
Sea Depth: 5464 m or 17922 ft
Sea Temp: 24C 75.2F
Air Temp: Same
ENE winds at 15K. Slight swell with good visibility.

April 20, 2006 PART DEUX:
Latitude: 24 degrees 28.1 minutes N
Longitude: 177 degrees ?? minutes W
Avg Speed: 20.25 k
Distance to HA: 1151 NM
Sea Depth: 1425 m or 14674 ft
Sea Temp: 24C 75.2F
Air Temp: Same
ENE winds at 20K, rough seas with good visibility. Swell height is about 3 meters.
Reason for 4/20 in two parts is because we crossed the International Date Line. On 4/20 part one, we were 17 hours ahead of the US EST, after crossing it just about 0600 on 4.20 part deux we are now only 7 hours ahead of EST. The International Date Line also changes the longitude measurement from east to west, hence our change.

April 21, 2006:
Latitude:22 degrees 51.4 minutes N
Longitude: 169 degrees 26.9 minutes W
Avg Speed: 19.7 k
Distance to HA: 658 NM
Sea Depth: 4931 m or 16173 ft
Sea Temp: 25C 77F
Air Temp: 24C 75.2F
ENE winds at 20 knots. Rough, white cap filled seas with a few clouds and good visibility. Swell height is 3 meters.

Once you visit China, you can see why there is a Chinatown in almost every big city in the world. I mean it makes sense really, the 2nd largest country with the biggest population: 1.3 billion people. That includes Hong Kong, which until 1997 was an independent entity from China, still run by the British. One of England’s most prized colonies with the best relationship, the people of HK had no problem being ruled by the Brits. They took pride in their free press and freedom of religion rights. Even though they are now officially part of China, there are certain things that China agreed to when the city was given back to its country. There are laws in HK that do not apply anywhere else in China, and vice versa. To this day, even though HK is considered to be a part of China, the people of Hong Kong do not call, and do not like being called Chinese or from China; they are from Hong Kong, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Hong Kong is a very interesting place. Its geography, people, and culture are like no other. The city itself has a section on Mainland China, but it is also a large grouping of islands that makes the city what it is. Kawloon is the borough, if you will, on the mainland, and Hong Kong Island is the largest and main island of the several. The waterways around this city are bustling with barges, cargo ships, cruise liners, ferries, personal yachts and fishing boats. When our ship was coming into the city, the fog was so dense it was incredibly difficult to see from one side of the ship to another, let alone get a glimpse of the stunning, vast, and modern skyline. The ship was alongside at around 0800, and we were cleared within a few hours. The fog had still not cleared. It added another layer of mystery and perplexity to a city I knew very little about. Soon that fog cleared and brought a faded glow of the sun from the thick air filled with smog and pollution.

China has 16 of the most polluted cities in the world; I’m not one hundred percent sure if HK made the list or not, but the thick air was a sure sign that pollution was prevalent.

One of the first things I noticed, was how unbelievably clean the city was. Its buildings, streets, sidewalks and waterways were glowing from the lack of litter and crap that typically floods the streets of some of the world’s most popular cities. Our first and order of business was to head to a travel agency to buy our plane tickets to eventually make our way to Qingdao (Tsing-dao). The majority of kids were going to Beijing to tour the capital city and visit the Great Wall. I had other plans in mind. Before I left for the trip in January, I vividly recall following a series that the New York Times did on the exploding city of Shanghai. It appealed to me like no other city, and really stood out in my mind. I can remember talking about going to Shanghai before we were even across the Atlantic. Needless to say, I did some research and found some incredibly cheap flights out of a city two hours north of Hong Kong called Gauzghaun (formerly Canton).

There were four of us going on this adventure north to Shanghai; YuYu, Amanda, Molly and myself. Something interesting to note is that the majority of independent travelers that have done trips by themselves seem to be of the same ratio. There is either a majority of females and a male or two, or a majority of males and a female or two. Can’t say why really, just the nature of the traveling beast.

Anywho, the travel agency was an experience in itself. Of course it was filled with other Semester at Sea kids who were also planning travel arrangements, but travel agencies in China are not really like ones in the US. Thankfully, I had an idea of where we wanted to leave from and how much it should cost. The thing of it was, you didn’t work with one of the persons behind the counter; there were phones at each station that you picked up and called somewhere else from to speak with someone who could arrange the flights for you and take all the information. Talk about a headache; a room full of loud voices - American and Chinese, a person on the other end of the line with a thick accent and broken English, and me, with four passports and plans to set. Not only did we figure out all the flight information over the phone, but I also had to give the polite and patient woman all of our names and passport numbers. Each name being spelled out with letters and a word to go with each letter, making it take ten times longer. Slowing pronouncing words and names does nothing for a person whose language is made up of characters and sounds, not letters and set words. We worked our way through it and eventually ended up getting exactly what we wanted for less than we had planed on. We had two flights booked, one from Gauzghaun to Shanghai, and then from Shanghai to Qingdao. A perfect way to make it up the coast and cover lots of ground in that massive country.

Finally, after about two hours of travel planning, it was off to explore the city. We decided to eat lunch at one of the restaurants Margaux’s top-ten Hong Kong travel guide recommended. It was in a hotel, and the food was fantastic, as was the tea. One of the best and most interesting parts about China is the tea; it comes to you in unlimited amounts, and you leave with your cup full. Most times, as soon as you take a sip or two, they are immediately filling it back up for you. It is an insult to ask them not to refill your cup. On the bill there was a cover charge per person for the tea. Of course even though it was semi-reasonably priced, it was still a shocker coming from India, Myanmar, and Vietnam. The food of course was fantastic, great mixed vegetables, tofu, bok choy, dumplings, and noodles.

From there, Margaux and I ventured over to Hong Kong Island. We took the ferry over (the only other way is by tunnel which is outrageously expensive in a taxi) for about 45 cents. A nice ride across the harbor, and we landed on one of the most impressive islands I’ve been too. Talk about city planning, this place was damn near perfect. The buildings were massive and truly great sites for the architectural eye. All perfectly reflecting off one another, in line or just out to make it look better. Some oddly shaped, with diamonds and spheres coming off, antennas and circle, porthole type windows. As we walked about, we realized there was an upper level, a mezzanine if you will, that connects the majority of the buildings. I think it was like a 4-mile walkway that went about this downtown part of the island. All these beautiful walkways, with benches, marble tiles, some with awnings and coverings, and fountains and sculptures in courtyards, all about two stories above the road level. It was mostly a business district, with some retail and restaurants mixed in between. We went to three parks, yes three parks. I was stunned, there were beautiful flowers and trees and greenery everywhere. Aesthetics were clearly a huge part of the planning of this city.

In one part there is a beautiful park. In Margaux’s Hong Kong book it mentioned it as a huge surprise because it was right in the middle of a bunch of buildings, in a prime real estate area. But amazingly, a park showed up. With waterways and fountains, trees and flowers, walkways and benches, it was truly beautiful. We were both in utter awe the entire time that we took to roam around this island, about three hours. As we were walking about the city, up and down its steep hills, we stumbled upon this cool little area. Tiny streets with retail shops, bars, clubs and restaurants, banners and lights going across all the streets, it reminded me of the streets that make up Greenwich Village in The City. There were signs that said “No Cars after 6PM until 7AM.” We knew where we’d be coming back for the evening. We had to go back to the mainland so I could pick up my plane tickets for the next day.

We headed back and met up with YuYu and Amanda who were clearly not ready to continue out for the evening…they wanted to nap…who does that?!?!?! So, we headed back to the island and this time ventured our way to the top on the tram. It was a tram that went up the mountain and had been doing so since 1918. It climbed slowly and moved with ease up the incredibly steep slope. Once at the top, we perused through the stores and then found a place to eat. Of course our restaurant was right on the edge and had a wonderful view of the city…and, had it not been thick with fog, we actually would have been able to see the city. Something else about Hong Kong is that not only does it look great during the day, but at night, the buildings light up like a laser show. Each of them lit up with a different color, some of them changing colors from red to blue, to green to purple. Moving lights and spotlights, strobe lights and colors lit up the skyline from afar. Even through the thickness of the fog we could still see a great and bustling city below us.

We headed back down the mountain to that great street we had stumbled on earlier in the day. Of course by this time, there were millions and millions of SAS people down there. (Note: there are only 650 SAS students onboard, so clearly there were not millions of them in this one part of the city…but when the majority of them are in one area of a city, it feels like millions and millions.) Margaux and I bounced from bar to club and club to bar. It was great, finding photo ops and new friends at each venue. Needless to say, the night ended just as early as it began…if that makes sense to you, the reader. We had to take a cab back to the ship because the ferry service stops at midnight and as I’m sure you imagined, it was well past that morning-making hour.

To bed we went and readied ourselves for the next day. Margaux was off to Beijing to see that Great Wall thing, yeah that massive hundreds of miles long man made structure that is what most people identify with China. I opted out of that tourist driven place and decided on Shanghai. And I’m so glad I did.

I woke up the following morning and was off into Hong Kong by myself for the last day I had there. I roamed and roamed on the mainland in Kawloon because we had barely spent anytime there on the first day. It was really quite neat to just walk alone for a while by myself, stopping where I wanted to look, smell, feel and be apart of the atmosphere. As my stomach grew hungry, I began to ponder where I would find a place to eat. Very few people spoke English in the restaurants and almost none of the menus in the windows were in English. I headed back towards the ship and turned a left down this little street just off the bottom of Kawloon Park. I first stumbled upon some street food of which I really, really, really wanted to try. I did my best to ask for food without meat, but of course they didn’t understand. At one point this nice young, mid-twenties ages lady came up and kindly asked me if I needed help. I explained to her my meatless situation and she told me that none of the food served at that place had just veggies. I walked not 15 feet further where I saw them making these waffle type things. They didn’t appear to be stuffed with anything odd, cat or dog of a sort and so I pointed to what I wanted and waited patiently while she so happily unsanitarily prepared it for me. My mouth is watering just rethinking about it. It was a soft waffle of sorts, a litter batter. She took one off the shelf and threw it back on the iron for a minute. Then she went over to the counter and slapped on a peanut-buttery type spread and then a sweet buttery spread and then a caramel like sauce, folded it in half, wrapped a piece of paper around it, threw it in a bag and then at me.

It was one of the most delicious sweets I had ever tried. Just the right blend of everything buttery, floury, sweety, and nutty. Of course I thought that was all I would be eating for the afternoon before leaving for Gauzghuan, but I was quickly mistaken as I strolled further down this street. I walked by this noodle shop with great pictures in the window; it seemed some of the items didn’t have any meat in them…well, once again my mouth started to water so I followed my stomach and dared to step inside.

Well, it was a room that was probably about 15 by 20-25 feet. Packed with people all sitting next to each other at tables with little milk-stools if you will. I went in and asked, in my best Mandarin-English (which is non-existent) if they had a menu in English….to my great surprise and overwhelming happiness, they did! I was quickly seated at a four-top next to two people I of course had no association with. They gave me a quick once over, as did everyone when I stepped foot inside this bustling little noodle shop. I was the whitest and clearly only non-Chinese speaking person in the room. I glanced over the menu for a minute or two before I was asked to move to a different seat because there was a party of two that just came in and there was a single seat available at a different table. I happily followed the non-spoken directions. I was now seated at another four-top with two ladies to my left who were together and the woman across from me was eating her lunch alone.

I looked of the menu, excited as to the choices I had in front of me. I was overwhelmed really. I deceived to go with a noodle dish in which you get to pick your type of noodles, your broth type, and two ingredients. The drool is really piling up in my mouth right now…I choose Spinach Noodles with a fresh tomato broth, braised tofu and broccoli. As I sat patiently waiting for my food, I was able to observe in great detail my chaotic surroundings. Thankfully, this gave me time to learn how to eat the noodles and soup by watching all the other around me. The loud chatter, the chewing, the slurping, the laughing and slamming of dishes all added to the excitement. The place was packed and there was a line at the door now too. My noodles came with a delicious honey-chrysanthemum tea; truly the best tea I’ve ever had. My noodles were brought to me and I was in awe. I had to pick up my chin from the table to start devouring the food.

It was topped with a sweet-tomatoey ketchup and had a big hunk of bok choy in it too; I was thrilled! When eating noodles, you are of course using chopsticks and you are also give a type of spoon. You stir you noodles up and let the steam rise out and tease your senses with its great smells. You grab a chunk of noodles with your chopsticks and then place them on the spoon with some broth to cool them. There is somewhat of an art to this, I kinda learned quickly. Well, I devoured my noodles, along with my tea. Which is of course one thing I missed in all my observing. I learned after the ladies finished their noodles next to me that you don’t drink you tea until you have finished your food. I of course finished it before I was done eating and ordered an iced tea of the same type. The waiter looked at me funny, but happily brought the tea to me. And wow, my how delicious it was. I sat for a minute, getting my last feel and glace of my hectic surroundings before taking my check to the little desk and happily paying my share. The lady at the desk of course spoke no English but she chattered on in Mandarin and I said my hellos, thank yous, and goodbyes in English as I’m sure she did in Mandarin…though she may have been saying, “Never come back here again you stupid ass foreigner.” With a smile of course, but somehow I doubt that.

I went back to the ship to pack for the rest of my week in China. Hong Kong is still its own country if you will, and we only had single entry Visa’s for China, so once you left HK you were not coming back. We had a train to catch at 1816, so we headed to the train station at around 1700. Like I said, there was four of us, Molly (whom I was neighbors with in the Bahamas), Amanda, YuYu (whom I was also neighbors with in the Bahamas AND on the ship, along with Amanda), and myself. We threw all of our shit in the back of a cab and off we went. It was very exciting. It was my first time going on a big trip without the fun and guidance of SAS. Yes I had done an overnight by myself here and there, but never a four day venture to a place where NO SAS trips were going. We got to the train station, which was like a tourist attraction in itself, grabbed a few snacks and got to our train just in time.

I was absolutely stunned by the train. A double-decker. Amtrak can shove it, especially in what I paid for the ticket; it less than 30USD for a two-hour train ride! Are you kidding me, its anywhere from 35-90USD for NYC to New London on Amtrak! The accommodations were top-notch. Beautiful plush seats, like I said a double-decker, massive train with plenty of luggage storage room. And, to my great surprise, there were train-attendants in each car! Walking around with their cart of goodies, bottles of water and snacks were handed out for free and you could purchase alcohol and noodles if you so chose. I was quite content with my water and snickity-snack. I was not seated with any of the others because I bought my ticket in a different line then them, because New York minded, get where your going and do so quickly Jeffrey…why wait in a line when there is a window open? And besides, since when are there assigned seats on a damn train? But it didn’t matter because it was the last stop on the train so none of us were worried about it.

After our pleasant train ride, we arrive in our new city, formerly Canton, Gauzghaun. We went through customs, had our landing card taken and passport stamped (yaaaahhhh!) and proceeded through security and then, finally down the escalators. We had no plans, we had no clue really. No idea where we’d be staying or what we’d be doing. All we knew was that our flight left at 1100 the next morning and we needed a place to stay until them. We were quickly approached by a bunch of hotel representatives. We were shown a few pamphlets and of course not wanting to pay much at all, but have a clean place to sleep we narrowed it down quickly. It was a three-star hotel and the head of it was the brother of the guy we were talking to about it. We only wanted to get one room, cheaper of course. However, the gentleman told us that it was not allowed and therefore we would have to get two rooms. Now, I had heard of the law in Vietnam about a man and a woman sharing the same room and if they were caught and did not have a marriage license, they would be arrested. It was a way of trying to control prostitution. So, we believed him, even though we found out once we got to Shanghai that it was simply a ploy to sell more than one room. It was about 55USD for the two rooms, so we really didn’t have too much to complain about. We got to our hotel and were quite pleased with the lodging. I wish I could tell you that we listened to our exhausted bodies and went to bed in order to be fresh for our 8AM wake up call…but I can’t.

Amanda chose to stay in, but Molly, Yu, and I decided to roam the street a bit. We poked in a few shops and then found a restaurant that was called Happy Hour. We figured since the sign was in English that they would maybe have an English menu and even a few English-speaking staff members. Well, we were quickly corrected to find that the only thing they had in English was the drink menu…that’s not to say I’m complaining about that, but we were all a bit hungry too. Well, I’ll tell you, we did our damn best to try and explain to them what the hell we wanted; just some fried rice with vegetables, fried noodles maybe, and we were hoping for some bok-choy. Well, that was a dive-bombing failure. Finally, after three different waiters, and three different full-on games of charades, one of the women took me into the back room where she picked up a phone. She called someone and chatted away with them for a minute or two. Finally she handed the phone to me, I said “Hello.” And got a “Hello” back! I was so happy. I did my best to explain to him as well, and he seemed to get the point. I handed the phone back to her hoping he would explain what we wanted and walked back to my seat.

There we sat, enjoying of Great Wall of China Wine, hoping our food would be coming and it would be what we wanted. Well, it came and we were ecstatic. It was delicious, just what we had asked for, except for the bok choy, which was fine; the rice and noodles were just perfect! Anyway, we finished and headed back to the hotel.

We went to bed on our rock hard mattresses, my god it was like sleeping on concrete, and tossed and turned till the morning. We woke up and took cold showers, of course I had forgotten to set my clock forward so we were all up an hour earlier, but it worked out just fine. Molly, Yu, and I went down to where they were serving breakfast…or something of the sort. Well, we tried a few bread type things, and YuYu had some dumplings, but that was about all we could stomach at that time in the morning considering what was being served to us and around us. We checked out and got into our car to head to the Airport. It took about a little under an hour to get there, but we still had plenty of time to check in.

What an airport. Architecturally massive, what a site it was. A huge space, vast and open, and filled, absolutely filled with natural light. We took our tickets to one counter to check in, they told us to go to another counter to check baggage, then they told us to go to another counter to check baggage. Finally, after the third counter, we found where we needed to check it, did so and moved on to the gate just in time for boarding.

It was a very nice plane; clean and new, and just about filled to the max. A 737 I think it was. Rows of 3 by 3. As soon as we were seated they brought us over a hot towel to wipe our hands and face with if we so chose. Once the plane was in the air they came around with beverages, and then lunch. It was rice and chicken with vegetables. I asked for a vegetarian one and they didn’t have any. Not two minutes later did the lady-flight attendant come running back with a dish that had written on it, “Vegetarian.” It was delicious; Chinese mixed vegetables, rice, a roll, a little snacky dessert and if course and tooth pick and wet napkin. The flight was maybe two hours and we were in Shanghai before we knew it.

I expected to be stunned from the air while flying into the fasting growing city in the world. Needless to say, I wasn’t. We landed, got our baggage and stopped at the tourism desk to find out about hotels and where to stay. We did, and they hooked us up with a good one. We learned that it was OK to have four people to a room…it worked out to our benefit. We ended up staying at the Peninsula Hotel in downtown Shanghai. (Sort-of downtown, it was right not far from the waterfront) It was a brand new, four-star hotel that had just been built last year.

Well, as we drove from the airport and into the city, closer to the river-front…I was finally amazed. As I’ve said about each place I’ve been….like nothing I could of imagined. The New York Times did a great job talking about it, but nothing, nothing could of prepared me for the buildings we saw. My roommate, Griffin, his response when he saw a picture of the skyline when I got back was, “Is that a real city? It looks like something futurist, like a movie, man.” And that’s exactly what it is. Futuristic. Considering the major buildings have only gone up within the last 5-10 years, everything is incredibly modern. Buildings that we will never see anything remotely close to in the States for another 20-30 years, I kid you not. Square buildings, circle buildings, square buildings with big circle tops, dome buildings, diamond buildings, green and blue buildings, white and gold buildings. If it could be imagined, it was there.

We checked into our hotel, quickly breezed through our room and then wanted to find out way to the world-renowned, globally famous, spectacular market that Shanghai is home to. The Xiang Yang Fashion and Gift Market . Mother, you would of died, crazier than Vietnam with more of anything you can imagine. It makes sense where Chinatown in the City comes from; only this stuff was top class, best in the world. As for all the fake goods, the Fendi, and Gucci, and Louis (o my!), most of the times the fabric is stolen from the factories (because it’s all made in China…) and then made into bags and sold at markets like these. Just a few days before we went there, I was reading in the South China Post, an Op-Ed piece, how this market would be closing forever come June…THANK GOD I MADE IT THERE!

Well, we stayed there until it closed…at 2000 hours. The bargaining was off the wall. At times you could get things for more than 75% off of what they asked for to begin with. All of the girls had me going around with them because I was one of the best bargainers. The more dramatic you are, the better the price you are going to get. Also, the more dramatic you are, the bigger the crowd you will draw. There were times I’d spend 20 minutes to a half an hour bargaining just to get the best price possible. Changing my price and story each time we’d agree to something just to confuse them more. It was SO much fun. I wish I could bargain for a living. Let me tell you the best deal I got. I was getting two much-needed duffle bags and wallet as a gift for someone. They wanted something outrageous like 1300 Yuan (8Y to 1USD) for the three pieces. Well, up went my arms and our came a gasp of air. They all laugh around me waiting for my response back on the calculator. I and walked away to start the process of boldly and proudly.

They of course chased me down and pulled me back into the store quickly dropping the price to 800Y or so. I of course let our another gasp, throwing my arms into the air and going on and telling them how that is just soooo much money and how could they ever expect me to pay so much for such simple items. One of the bags I was getting wasn’t as perfect as I would of like it to be, and I wasn’t going to get it, on the price that we settled for, but we’ll get to that. So I worked my way down the scale, telling them one price, and then quickly dropping it lower to another. I think we had settled at 400Y something for the three pieces, which was a good price believe it or not. Well, I was on the edge about one of the bags, and wasn’t 100% sold on it. I asked what the price would be on just one of the bags and the wallet and of course it was far higher. I told them I didn’t want anything and walked away again. I’m sure you can guess, I was chased down and dragged back into the store. By this time, there were customers and other vendors standing around, watching our session. So I told them that I didn’t really want one of the duffel’s, and that the only way I would take it is if they gave all three pieces to me for 250Y. They gasped and threw up their arms and began putting the items back. I stopped them from doing so and explained that I didn’t really like the bags (all part of the bargaining) but that if they’d give me a good price, I’d happily take them. They wanted 350Y but I was persistent and stayed at 250Y. The girls were standing outside placing bets as to whether or not I’d get them for that price. The crowd was getting bigger and bigger also.

We kept on chatting, me telling them that I would take none of them and not care because ei could find them cheaper somewhere else. Finally, after about a half an hour of bargaining, they gave in! What a victory. All of the vendors were shocked. Several of them came up to me, shaking my hand and patting my back, including ones that worked in the same boutique/spot-place and said to me “Wow, you are good.” I was beaming from ear to ear and the girls were in utter shock. So were a lot of the other shoppers in there. They quickly took all my other bags and packed everything up in the two duffels I had now. We made the exchange and I walked out on top of the world. They followed me until we left, trying to convince me to buy other things. I simply ignored them and found my way out. Once we got back to the hotel, we of course had to take our all of our purchases and show everyone because we had been separated for a better part of the day. In doing so, I realized that they didn’t give me the wallet. Well, I was livid. I thought I’d had them, but really, they got me! And to think the wallet was the main reason I stayed and got the other two bags!

Well, that next day, I went right back to that market, found that same vendor and walked in their and told them that I had bought the wallet the day before but they didn’t give it to me. At first one of them tried to pretend like they didn’t recognize me and told me to go away. I was persistent and found someone that had been there the day before. She recognized me in a hesitant manor, and when she did so, I looked at the head guy with a glare and look in my eye that must of really scared him. I had the wallet in my hands and all he said was, “OK, yes go ahead.” It was great. We think he thought I was going to call the police or something.

That day we spent in Old Shanghai, or what I liked to call the Valley of Shanghai. It was a low area with buildings you would expect to see in China. Typical Chinese architecture, walkways and waterways filled with coy fish. And people. Lots and lots of people! As we kept roaming of course, our stomachs grew hungrier and hungrier. We would do our best to ask people where to eat with very few of them understanding our English. They would point and babble on in Mandarin, and we would smile, nod and prentend to go along with what they were saying. We walked down this street where everyone told us there were restaurants; of course we didn’t find any. We got to the end where it intersected with a large street. We tried hailing a cab, but when we got into one and started speaking English, the cab driver started screaming and yelling and hitting the plastic cage that surrounds him. I kid you not; all the cab drivers in Shanghai are enclosed in the plastic cage around their seat, we came to understand it was because of their short tempers and flailing wrists.

We got out of the cab and a native man quickly stepped into it. There was this nice old woman standing on the street corner who had been standing there for some time. I tried talking to her, and asking her where to eat. I did my best charades impression of eating and where we could find a place to do so. She pointed right back down the same street, babbling in her local tongue the entire time. I happily smiled as if I understood everything that she was saying and we started walking right back down the street we were just on. Well, it was good that we kept walking in a different direction in which we had come down the street. There was this mall like complex with a total of three stories. The place was nothing to massive or impressive, a nice little courtyard with a pond and fountain, outside escalators taking you to the upper levels. Well, there was a windown filled with food pictures and so we ventured up with the second level. We could see people eating in the windows and it looked quite good.

We went inside, and of course no one spoke hardly any English. It was almost expected. Nor did they have an English food menu. It was good that the beverages we wanted were the same in English and Chinese…Tsingtao Beer. The waitress was so wonderful; she tended to our needs to graciously and politely, even with the minimal English that she spoke. What becomes fun is that both you, and the person of the country you are in that you are talking to, end up chattering on to each other in your native language. I make jokes, and ramble on, knowing that they cannot understand but sort of giving myself piece of mind in saying what I want. I’d assume they do the same thing considering she was also prattling on as well. She was there immediately when we would glance over just to look in the direction she was standing. As for the food, the word for vegetarian food is Su Shi, so that is all we kept saying. Thankfully, my traveling company was happy to eat vegetarian while we were out dining together. It helped tremendously when ordering. We were able to get four different dishes, all of which are put in the middle of the table and shared…it was DELICIOUS. Mixed Vegetables, Fried Rice, Bok-Choy, Garlic and Shitake Mushrooms, and a spinach dish that was to die for! Of course there was rice in plenty and noodles too.

We finished lunch and headed back out. We found a cab that was able to sort of get where we wanted to go, and thankfully he did not start screaming and flailing the way the last driver had. We headed back to the market where we went the day before so I could get the wallet that was withheld from my purchase (the story I told earlier) and to get some DVDs as well. Of course we found a whole new region of the market that we did not even know existed and so some more exploring ensued.

We had planned on meeting outside the market at its central entrance at I think 1830. I was out there with YuYu and we were just sitting on a ledge that surrounded a garden. I was filling out post cards and she was reading something. The postcards were of ones that I bought and were all obviously from Shanghai. Within a few minutes of me filling these out, a crowd began forming around me. Probably about 10-12 men starting standing in front of us, pointing at my cards and chattering away. I didn’t really care, and I looked up at them, showed them the cards. They seemed incredibly interested…I have no idea why, considering the pictures on the cards were from the city that they clearly dwelled in. I handed them the stack of cards that I wasn’t using at the time, realizing that them seeing these pictures was some form of entertainment. As long as they stayed right there, I didn’t care.

Well, after a minute or two of them looking them over, all of them passing them to each other, laughing and commenting about them, I was suddenly backhanded right in the forehead! Well, I jumped up, quite stunned as I’m sure you can imagine. I grabbed the cards from their hands, spanning my arms out, giving us space and yelling, quite firmly, “Goodbye! Go away. Thank you!” Motioning with my hands that they needed to go. Now, undoubtedly I was caught off guard. I think most people would be if they were just sitting there with their head down, writing something when all of a sudden they were backhanded on the forehead. And of course after the fact, I thought about what happened. The gentleman that did backhand me was not doing it as a way of hurting or hitting me, it was simply a way to get my attention. A tap on the shoulder would have been fine, but hey, to some, slap in the faces means just as much.

Something about the Chinese culture is that they are very sheltered in their own world. In a lot of ways, Shanghai reminded me of The City because people were very much about themselves. Focused on where they were going, not really taking note of what was happening around them. The shoving, pushing, cutting off and disregard for surroundings didn’t make it uncomfortable, it just made the people seem anti-social and rude. But that is their culture, (more on this in a few paragraphs when I speak of the young British woman we had drinks with) to be cold and distant, and possible downright rude in Western terms while living their everyday life. When you greet a person from China, very rarely will there be a kiss on the cheek, hug, or even a shake of the hand. It takes time for a Chinese person to warm up to you in the level that most American’s and European’s greet people on the first time. As for this instance, I think if the man had done that to a fellow native, it would have gone over just fine. In a sense I feel guilty for falling tourist victim to a daily act by having my American temper come out in full swing.

We headed back to the hotel to ready ourselves for an evening out on the town.

While back at the hotel, we decided to grab a bite to eat in the lounge area. Decently priced and incredibly convenient, it was our pit stop. We were sitting at our table when right next to us this family of three sits down. A man in his 50s, his wife about the same and their younger, middle school aged child. Well, the woman was immediately delighted when she heard our American accents; she quickly jumped up over to our table, to first as YuYu what kind of wine she was drinking and then to ask us all where we were from in the States. Frankly, I was a bit disgusted when I heard their thick southern American accents. We came to learn that they were from Georgia and were there with their son’s high school class, all of about 30 or so on a trip to China. They had spent 10 days in the countryside and were thrilled to see other American’s and be able to have a form of Western food. Incredibly pleasant, though clearly conservative in her talk; I think she almost had a heart attack when she found out where the four of us were from: two, if not three of the bluest states in the country: California, and I told her that I was from Connecticut but was quick to say that I went to school in NYC. We had lengthy conversation with them about their trip, and ours. I spoke with the husband who was much less high strung and more interested on an intellectual level than on a conversational level. He asked great questions and seemed to really enjoy hearing what I had to say in response. I think his wife was just very excited about seeing people from the States. We explained to them why we were here and what we were doing. They were incredibly envious and couldn’t wait to tell their high school son about what we were doing.

After our dinner spree, we headed across the street to pick up some cheap beer before heading out for the evening. Why spend so much on a drink at a bar when you can spend far less before going out by picking up a few beers and enjoying them before you go.

Once back down, Molly went over to the Concierge to find out where we should go. She asked for the tallest bar in the city; well he certainly told us where that was. They had these great cards that they would fill out for you to hand to your cab driver so there was no need for an English explanation to a person that wasn’t going to understand it. Once we were back in the lobby, there was our good ol’ Georgia gal sitting with one of the teachers from her son’s school. Now this is where the conservative comment from above solidified itself. We started chatting with her again, as she seemed to be hitting on this much younger teacher while I’m sure her husband was off in bed. She was quick to tell him what we were doing and of course wanted us to explain as well. Well, luckily I held my tongue. We were chatting away for a few minutes and all of a sudden, the teacher magically turned the conversation into a religious preaching ceremony and in talking about his teaching, “Someone has to teach the Christian faith and keep good moral values in this world, and by damned, its going to be me!” And they both laughed together, while I chuckled in sarcasm and disgust as I listened to this ignorant bullshit.

I quickly said goodbye and we were on our way to our spot for the evening. Our destination: the second tallest bar in the world, Cloud 9. It was on the other side of the river, so taking a cab there was a necessity and a great experience. Once we came out on the other side, you knew right away which building we were headed to. It was the Hyatt Hotel and what a place it was. A palace of sorts, and the club…the club was on the 87 floor. You had to do two elevator transfers to get there! We of course had no idea where we were going, but were doing out best like we did. We finally found the right elevators to take up and it just so happened that three others were in there with us. While they chatted, I knew right away they were from England. We all began talking to each other, laughing and having a fun time before we were even off the first elevator. We all were happy to find out that we were going to the same place, and yet none of us were staying there! There were three of them, an older gentleman, a mid-aged woman and a lady who looked about my age. When we got off the first elevator on the 52nd floor, we let them out first, following in their lead. Thankfully we did. As they walked past, an employee of the hotel stopped them and asked if they were staying at the hotel, the younger woman was quick to respond, “Yes, we’re all staying here. Thank you.” Without hesitation she found her way to the elevator and up we went another 35 flights.

I was stunned, such confidence, and so quick to respond; I was sure she’d been there before. When we got up to Cloud 9 we were in awe. It wasn’t open really (the layout), and went around the whole building, all glass windows, floor to ceiling of course. We roamed around, looking for a good table, some of us using the restroom. Well, when there was no private sort of table, we found a perfect six-top right by the window (there was only three of us, Amanda wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed in). We had a great round of introductions; it was Michael, his daughter Stephy, and his girlfriend Becky, who was “just along for the ride” as she put it (meaning coming to China, not in the relationship sense). Stephy had been there for two months and had one month left. She was working for a magazine and was living in Shanghai. Dad and the girlfriend were there for the first time to visit with her.

What great conversations we shared with them. We came to learn, in such surprise, that Stephy was only 19. I kid you not, she looked as if she was 23-25, I told her that, in terms of a compliment of course, the way she carried herself was amazing. I can’t imagine really any 19 year old that I knew or know spending 3 months in China, alone, before going to University. She drilled me on politics, as did her father…I was in heaven. Of course, being the typical Brit and despising good ol’ W, she had great questions about his. I explained about the forged and corrupt elections, the disgusting religious influence now in American politics, and his oil-and-blood-dirtied fingers that paved the way for his victory. When she asked about the type of people that voted for him she used the perfect, perfect word: ignorant. I said stupid at first, using a simpler word, but she of course, being the Brit that she was, said it with eloquence and beauty. Her father laughed and agreed, and we went on to talk about politics in England and the relationship between the US and the UK.

We all chatted until last call, enjoyed the view from the top, and headed back down together. Thankfully, we had a great waitress who took a perfect group picture of us. We got back in a cab, and headed back to our hotel.

Morning came fast. Our flight was at 1425 up to Qingdao (tsing-dao) and we were sure if we’d be able to get anything done in the mean time. We were all exhausted so we decided to check out the Internet café in the lobby and have a few delicious lattes and cappuccinos before going to the airport.

We had a funny driver on the way. He spoke very little English, and for some reason the whole way to the airport, Amanda felt the need to be belting out dumb ass American songs. I had a killer headache and the driver and I were just looking at each other and smiling. A few times I wound my hand around my ear and pointed to her, of course inferring her craziness. Its times like that I hate to travel with a group; people who epitomize American tourists who are despised around the world because of their loudness and outlandish behavior.

We got to the airport, had lunch and were on our plane for our hour and a half flight further north, up the coast of China to Qingdao.

The great thing about the flights was that of course all announcements were made in Chinese and would go on for a few minutes. Then they were done in English, but took far less time than the Chinese announcements took. All of the flight attendants did speak English, thankfully. Though unlike American flights, they do not tell you when you are making your decent. At one point, I looked over and saw this look of fright on Amanda’s face as the plane started to drop from the sky. Quite comical. I reassured her that we were fine and probably making our decent back to the mainland considering the time we had been in the air.

Down we went, safely of course. Now onto our third and final city in China, Qingdao (remember that Hong Kong is not technically a part of China and therefore not one of its city’s!). In our pre-port before we got to Hong Kong, several of the speakers spoke very highly of that northern city in China. How it was attracting beach tourists from all over the world and is one of the most popular northern cities in China, besides of course, Beijing. You’ll come to learn a few paragraphs from now that the city itself was not that impressive.

The port was about an hour from the airport so we had a good drive ahead of us. As we made our way closer to the port, the northern mountain ranges of China. What a site they were. It was clearer on the ground, but still difficult to see the mountaintops. Steep, sharp peaks that reminded me of the Grand Tetons in either Montana or Wyoming…my American travel has been on hold the past few months…as I’m sure you can understand why! Rocks of these mountains were a very different color though. Lighter in tone, shades of beige, taupe, even pale grays made up the peaks that were sparsely populated with trees.

We made our way through town (?) and not knowing at all where we were going ended up at our port. It was crazy. Qingdao is one of China’s biggest industrial port cities so where we were docked was a massive port in which we had to trek our way to the ship. Over railroad tracks and through massive piles of stone, and stacked steel and rebar were all over the place. Not to mention the pallets and fork lifts, dump trucks and trailers. Once we traversed the vast cement pier, it was through an immigration check, each time we got on, then up the stairs because the gangway was on the fifth floor. (Depending on the port and the tides determines whether or not the gangway will on the fifth of second floor…we always prayed it would be in the second deck.)

We finally got there and were just really sort of fed up with everything. All of the shit that we got in Shanghai had been carried with us since then and we were all just tired and wanted to get back to the palace. I can’t even begin to explain the feeling that runs through your body when you see the EXPLORER from afar. Your flooded with joy and the security of knowing that once you are on there, you are good to be good. Food, a comfortable bed and place to throw you shit awaits you. Along with friends you haven’t seen since you left with hundreds of new stories to share.

We got back and ate dinner on the ship. I won’t forget that because there was the best god damn bit of food I’d ever had on the ship. They made this fantastic eggplant parmesan that was to die for. I think I had five helpings. I met up with Margaux and Jackie; they had just gotten back that afternoon from Beijing where it snowed when they visited the Great Wall. Margaux hiked it with only flip-flops because who’d a thought you’d need goddamn snow boots and a winter coat while we’d been traveling through all these tropical regions. Their stories were hysterical and the three of us decided to head out for the evening.

The recommendation was for a place called the Newport Bar…wow, memories from home all around! Well, we started walking because it was not far from the ship, but we were quickly stopped when we saw a sign for Karaoke. As I’m sure you know, Karaoke is HUGE all throughout Asia, especially in places like China and Japan. So we went inside and of course no one spoke English. We signaled what beer we wanted and they hurried us off into our own private karaoke room! There was a coffee table, large couch, large TV, two mics and speakers. They left us a binder of all the music but of course it was all in Chinese!!! We died laughing. There was a karaoke machine under the TV in which you could plug in the song number and it would play on the screen. Well, in all of the numbers that we randomly went through there was only one song that randomly played and kept coming up again and again. Thankfully, Jackie and I knew the song and entertained Marg with it several times. She has hysterical video with my camera and it was truly hysterical. The one song that we kept playing over and over once we heard it was nothing other than the classic early nineties Whitney Houston song Greatest Love of All. Yeah, it was quite the show. What made it even funnier was that the microphones had this weird echo to them. At one point we just made sounds into the mic and it would go on and on and we would just be dying laughing. Of course it was also fun to say single-worded obscenities into them and laugh at what it sounds like after being echoed.

We decided to move on once we found nothing else to sing too. Not a block further down the street was this little hole in the wall place called the Seamen’s Club. You can take that name however you choose to, but I’m sure the technical reason was because it was only a few blocks from the pier…now as far as the way the waitresses were dressed…well, anywho. So we went in there and there were a few of our favorite crewmembers in there whose names I will not disclose to protect them. There were two small rooms to this place and we were put into the second one with a door on it. Once we started getting to be our loud selves, they were quick to shut the door. Well, we ended up ordering a bottle of this Chinese Vodka that was basically scentless and tasteless. We were stunned, to say the least. After a few drinks each, we realized just how good or strong, however you’d like to look at it, that stuff was. We quickly renamed the vodka to something that we have spread about the ship now. Our name for this delicious and enticing beverage: Rape in a Bottle. Yes, that’s right. We did infomercials about how great it is and the reason why is because, “This bottle is when you wake up to someone you don’t know…aahhhaahhaaahha, Rape in a Bottle!” as Jackie so eloquently put it.

Of course stop worrying; we all remembered the rest of the evening and were even coherent enough to move on and go back to the Karaoke place with a bigger group. Thankfully, this time they gave us a binder with a section in English! And even the songs had English words flashing across on the TV! Something about Chinese Karaoke, while the song is going and the words are changing, the background is soft porn. I kid you not. Women, sometimes only one, sometimes three or four posing in an incredibly racy manor with ivy leaves over their nipples and perhaps a bent leg to cover the…at times rolling in sheets and splashing under waterfalls. It made it all the more funny.

One of the great adventures to these two places was the bathroom. It was a shared place that was in-between Seaman’s and the karaoke bar. A dark, long hallway leading you to a small and darker room with a stench that loomed down the street. Moonlight coming in from the window, and only the sound of us laughing. There were two stalls, incredibly hard to see, especially since the only real light was coming from my cell phone and camera. Of course there were no doors either. They were typical eastern toilets, so basically it was just a hole in the ground. You’d think a rat was going to run out and bite your fucking foot off at any point, or in the ladies case, jump up and bite their cooter. You know, that kind of restroom.

We made it back to the ship, and went to bed fore it was up and early in the AM to head to Lao Shan for some mountain viewing.

We had no idea what to expect in the morning. Chad, Margaux and I headed out into the city hoping to find somewhere to stop in the morning; we just roamed around a bit and then found a cab.

We got in the cab and said, “Lao Shan?” while pointing to a map all in English. He nodded, repeated Lao Shan and then grabbed a pen. He put his hand up and ever so slowly began writing on his hand. As we watched him he was slowing writing Chinese characters. When he was finished with them, he looked back at us, pointed to the characters on his hand and said, “Lao Shan?” We all laughed like hell and just nodded our heads. Like we knew what the hell those characters meant, but it was so typical of someone trying to get someone to understand their language. We all are guilty of it; slowing down you speech, writing something slower or trying to say it clearer. That’s exactly what the was doing and it was priceless because there was no way we’d have a clue what the characters meant, though by the time we did get to where we were going, we were glad to know he understood us.

It was about an hour from Qingdao, and we followed the coast the whole way; it was truly astonishing. At one point we drove by this road that was going up into the mountain. We could see that it had just been built and all got really excited because the whole time we were talking about just going and doing shit. So, we had our driver turn around and start climbing this steep hill. Up we went, incredibly excited by the randomness of what we were doing and the happiness of our driver to agree to do it! At one point, we had only gone up a little ways, but it was still really steep and really, really, really, really windy. Did I mention that it was windy? And the only guard rails were tall, about 18-24 inch rocks, narrow, coming out of the ground on the side of the road. Far from secure. Well, we got up and went around a corner and there was someone working on the road and there were all rocks in the middle of the road. Our driver stopped, looked back, and something like, “Shieite.” I looked at him and said, “Yes, shit, that’s right. Shit.” I don’t what he said meant shit, but it just sounded good and was perfect for the situation.

He continued on up the mountain and we made our way to where the road stopped. We jumped out, took some pictures, ran up a little further, took some more pictures and got back into our cab and headed down the mountain.

Another half and hour and we were at Lao Shan. Lao Shan is a string of mountains that has several shrines at it and at the top you can take a cable car to see a set of four waterfalls from the river that runs through them. Right on the coast, it was truly a great site. We got there and our driver just motioned that he would stay and we told him we’d be back in a few hours. No problems.

Well, we got out of the car and our eyes were immediately drawn to the sea. Mostly because as we were coming into Lao Shan, when you were driving along the cliffs, high above the bay, all you could see were these lines and lines in the water. Literally rows and rows of lines. I quickly assumed they were nets. There were hundreds of them, rapers of the sea if you will; with a few boats going from net to net to check what they caught. When we got down to where the parking lot was, the site was even more depressing to the three of us. Chad is a Marine Biology Major, Margaux is an Environmental Studies/Marine Bio Major and I’m just an environmentally friendly screaming liberal…so I’m sure you can understand our dismal state.

While we were standing there, depressing ourselves as the nets were brought up and set back into the sea, we were stunned to watch someone soar through the air over the water in front of us. Holy shit! It was a ripcord over the ocean!!!!! We were ecstatic! The people around us clearly caught on to our excitement and were quick to tell us how much it was and what we needed to do. We were whisked into a van and brought up the road to where the starting point of the ride began. I’ve got this all on video and it is absolutely hilarious. Marg and I were so excited that we just overwhelmed Chad and his fear of heights quickly disappeared, he didn’t have a choice in the matter really. Well, we get up there and are quickly brought to the second level of this tower like structure where we were put into out harness. Margaux started putting hers on before they started helping her and they were yelling at her in Chinese, we were dying, just dying. Well, Chad and Marg were done before I was so they got taken up to the third level to get ready to fly. I was right behind them, but by the time I got up there, not two minutes later, Chad was already out soaring over the ocean. It was good that he went first because it didn’t give him a chance to think. They rushed you like it was some sort of evacuation. Well, I was up there and of course had the camera rolling and off Margaux went, screaming, flying out over the ocean. I was up next. They had you stand on this little stool in order to strap on the cord to your harness. As I was doing this, I was repeating one of my most typical phrases over and over and over again, “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.” After I said it several times, one of the men up there started saying it with me, laughing as he was doing so. It was great.

Well, I was up, and before I knew it, I was off. I kept my camera going the whole time I flew down. It is one of the craziest most chaotic movement videos ever. As a I flew down, I could hear Chad and Margaux screaming and laughing from below. It was over before you knew it, but what a blast it was. Our adrenaline was through the roof and we hadn’t even gone up the mountain yet.

From there we walked towards the entrance. In the beginning there is a temple/pagoda/shrine type thing, not really sure what it was because we didn’t go to it. We were all running low on funds and preferred to make our way up the mountain for free instead. It was a nice rock way that lead you up the mountainside. With waterways and rest stops along the way. Whole birds and whole fish were on each grill as we went by, of course they tried selling them to us at one place where we stopped to grab a drink and take a rest, but we politely declined.

There was a little tea café and several other places to stop and rest. One of them was a teashop where they grew all the tea right along side the restaurant! We grabbed another drink there and were able to use the bathroom, snapped a few pics and tried like hell to get the two tea sets that were on the tables for a much better price than they were offering. Needless to say she didn’t drop to the price we wanted, so we paid for our beverages and continued on our way. We went up a little further and there it was, the cable car to the top. Of course being sold to us by ladies that only spoke Chinese, we opted out of doing it because of time constraints and on-ship time. Me, trying to get the ladies to understand how long it took to get from here, to the top, and back was pretty much impossible. I was jumping from one spot to another trying to get them to understand, but it failed. We headed back down the mountain to head back to the ship.

Well, what can I say about China. It’s a massive country; there is a predominant and poignant culture that confuses and stuns the Western world. It is unfortunate we only had six days between Hong Kong and Qingdao, though I’m certainly not complaining. Chaos and confusion, the worst language barrier yet, and yet still so much to do and be apart of. I merely scratched the surface of the second largest country in the world. Christ, I didn’t even go inland, I just went right up the coast to the fastest growing city in the world: Shanghai. And what a place it was. I can’t imagine any other place in the world like it and it is really its own metropolis category. Don’t get me wrong though, New York City is still the capital of the world and will always be that way. One of the interesting bits that I disagreed on with the British people we met in Shanghai was that I said my top two cities, so far are NYC number one, and Shanghai definitely coming in at a close number two. Stephy was quick to say that London was of course her first, her hometown, followed by Shanghai and then NYC. I assured her that once I got to London it would be in the top three, but certainly be number three on my list of cities.

I think about where I am right now (about 500 NM from Hawaii and only 7 days from San Diego) and think about where I’ve been. The whole time I’ve been writing these blogs, I’ve tried to think of what I’ll say on my last entry…well, the ports of call have ended and I have no damn clue. It will fall out when I write it. But I still have Japan to tell you all about which was truly amazing. I can tell you now that my top three ports were as follows (in no specific order): India, Japan, and Vietnam.

I talked to my mom today and she asked me what my favorite place was; I can’t say I have one. Each country has its own best of the best and each one has its worst of the worst. Each country has so many different things to offer that are different than the rest. I can’t say I’ll ever decide on an official number one, but I have a top three.

Japan was out of this world. These past six days at sea have been unbelievable. The Pacific is a stunning, vast, and captivating body of water. Its color is a rich and vibrant royal blue that glows when the sun hits it. The light is different here somehow too; the sun has a different glow on this side of the earth that gives a cool blue glow to the white-cap filled Pacific. Always churning, it really is the biggest body of water in so many ways.

I’ll be doing my best to get Japan up just as soon as I can. I’m sure it will be by the time you have finished reading this one!

I’ll be seeing you before you know it!

On Hold

Hello there. Long time no talk. Please accept my deepest apologies. We are done with our port-stopping and are en-route to San Diego with a lay over in Hawaii. I'm doing my best to try and finish my China and then Japan blogs, but school work is taking up the bulk of the typing time. I expect to finish China today (4/19) with hopes of getting Japan done before my birthday.

Just a quick bit. The day after we left Japan, our first day back at sea was the roughest day we'd seen yet. It was extreamly exciting! The ship was all over the place. It was Easter, so it made it all the more fun. 25-30 swells smashed up and covered my third deck window with water. 35-40 knot winds prevented any of the decks from being opened. All classes were canceled for the morning and were not put back into session until 1PM. Thankfully, all my classses were before noon on that day, so it was a nice rest-up day.

Japan was absolutley amazing. I can't even begin to describe it, you'll just have to wait for the blog. China was insane, that blog is in the works...I promise. Hope you all had a great Easter, mine wasn't quite the same without Memere's Rasin Sauce, but I think I can hold out till next year.

Sayonara

Japan, Japan, Japan

Well, here i am in Kyoto right now and it is absolutley amazing. Not going to write a ton right now just casue of time, but know that it is once again, one of the best countries i:ve visited. Surpasese the US on so many　てチン取る定理利ね身らて二かにと羅みりん利以下か三井て酢に会煮込み町背地味いといるィ美馬欄

GOODMORNING, Vietnam!

Well, hello there. We just left China last night and are now two nights away from Japan…my how time flies when this ship sails! China was absolutely amazing, but don’t worry…we’ll get to that.

First things first, location update as of April 9, 2006 at noon local time (13 hours ahead EST):
Latitude: 33 degrees 45.4 minutes N
Longitude: 124 degrees 43.8 minutes E
Average Speed: 19.6 knots
Distance to Kobe, Japan: 657 NM
Sea Depth: 81m 265ft
Sea Temp: 9 C 48 F (quite the change from when we got to Hong Kong!)
Air Temp: 12 C 53.6 F
Swell Height: 3.5-5m 11-15ft
Winds are blow hard at 28 knots coming from the SSE. Rough seas with overcast; showers with moderate visibility. They blew the horn three times from the bridge today.

Location update as of April 10, 2006 at noon local time (14 hours ahead of EST):
Latitude: 31 degrees 27.5 minutes N
Longitude: 131 degrees 52.5 minutes E
Average Speed: 18.3 knots
Distance to Kobe: 236 NM
Sea Depth: 949 m 3112 ft
Sea Temp: 21 C 69.8 F
Air Temp: 20 C 68 F
Swell Height: 5-6 m 15-18 ft
Strong winds from the SSE at 32 knots. Very rough seas overcast, showers, and moderate visibility. Definitely the rockiest the ship has been in a while, it feels good to be rockin and rollin again.

Now its time for ‘Nam Talk. And what a talk it will be. Of course there is so much that you are missing in the time that we spend at sea in-route to these new countries, but I don’t have time anymore to write all that shit. Which is horribly unfortunate, but I think the meat comes from the countries we visit and not necessarily the fluffy fun stuff at sea.

As you know, my parents and Betty flew cross country, traversed the Pacific and into Thailand they flew for three days before heading to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), to meet ME!!! Our ship made it way up the Saigon River and we were in port around 0900 or so. It was amazing how our ship, the massive vessel that it is, was able to zip about up the river with such ease, making 90 degrees turns and navigating that narrow waterway. We dock and I had no idea how I was going to be meeting up with my parents. Frankly, I was ecstatic about them being there at first, so I wasn’t one of the kids hanging off the side of the boat screaming to their parents. Of course that surprised and bothered my mother. It was funny though, I was about to get binoculars to try and find them (though the binoculars would not of been needed at all, it would of just been funny), but by the time I did so, there was an announcement made saying that the parents would be coming on board shortly and that we could meet in the union. Well, I was walking through Purser’s circle and saw some parents come on board so I ran outside to see where mine were and they were just going through security. I screamed to Tina, the head security officer, “Hey, don’t let them on board!” Well, I ran back inside and there they were. Mom jumped into my arms and people laughed and cheered around us considering the place we met on the ship was packed with people. I embraced Daddio to the fullest and what a reunion it was. It also brought great joy to be greeted by my wonderful and dear-hearted city-friend, Betty.

Ok so I’ll admit it. Once I saw them, it was really, really, really exciting and felt great after not having seen them in months! We toured the ship and they met all sorts of crazy people - from professors to Resident Directors, and my great roommate to good friends. It was a chaotic rendezvous. In touring, I sort of went through my daily life aboard, while at sea and in port.

We debarked together and off we went into Saigon. They had arrived the evening earlier, had a nice dinner and then anxiously awaited the ship’s arrival. Their hotel room had a perfect view of the ship so that helped quell the nerves. We took the shuttle into the heart of downtown District 1 and began exploring Saigon. It was like nothing I could have imagined, and I’m sure it was the same for the three them. What stuns you as soon as you step foot into the city it the number of motorbikes, or scooters as they call them. There are 50 million people in Vietnam, about 9 million in Saigon; there are 3 million scooters. Ten years ago each scooter had 9 square meters to drive in, now they have 3 square meters. There were times when you would see families of 5 on one scooter! It’s all you saw in the road. There are no driving rules really, and crossing the street is flirting with death. There is an art form to doing so. You walk slow and go when there is a break in the traffic, magically when you do cross, it’s like you are parting the Red sea because all the bikes just swerve around you and your fine. Mom and Betty had a different situation when someone on a regular pedal bike escorted them around a rotary as their shield and guide, they were wonderfully thankful considering they would have been moped pancakes had they not had this wonderful escort.

We perused streets and poked in and out of shops, breathing in the polluted air and taking in this modern city. We finally made our way to the market. A warehouse of sorts, sweltering in temperature and nauseatingly scented with the smell of meats, dried fish and other Vietnamese delights that could make the western stomach turn. Like most markets, it was incredibly overwhelming. Something that added to the excitement of the market was the currency and its exchange rate: 1USD to 15,000 Dong. You quickly learn how to convert big numbers in your head, 75,000D is 5USD, and 150,000D is 10USD and so on. Of course the best part about these markets is the bargaining. What I have learned from all the ports I’ve visited with bargaining markets is that the more dramatic you are, the better the price you will get. Also, you must, and I emphasize must be willing to walk away if they do not give you the price. You’ll learn that this is probably your best tactic considering more often than not you get called back and end up paying the price you want to. But the fun is in the calculator exchange; back and forth with the calculator cutting the price by 2/3 right off the top at first and slowly inching your way up from there. You should never, never pay more than half of the price they started at. It’s the dumbasses that don’t bargain that end up making vendors more stubborn to dropping the price because they know some idiot will come along and settle for their initial outrageous price.

Of course it was only our first day at the market and most times like me, my mother wanted to buy everything, but the good thing was she had to stay a bit reserved because dad was with us. Plus the heat was adding to the frustration of shopping. At one point mom was trying on shoes, and the great thing is they want to please you, so they bring over little stools to sit on and one of them stands there and fans you (which is a HUGE help, you can’t imagine, it really cools you down) while you pick and choose and try, try, try on shoes. Of course the funny thing is, Westerner’s feet and about twenty-five times the size of a Southeastern Asian’s so most times mom and I were laughed at when we would try to find shoes. Of course, Mom did end up finding some gems. But it was funny, at one point this woman and her infant child selling fans came up to Mom and tries selling her a fan. Mom had no desire to buy the fan but when the mother of the child basically threw her kid into mom’s arms, she just had to buy. The funny thing was, as soon as mom had the kid in her arms, the mother bolted! Dad and I thought for sure that the mother ditched the kid to the gullible American who of course would of taken the kid home in the extra suitcase in a second, but at the same time would have to buy another suitcase to hold all the new purchased goods.

We went back to their hotel for lunch and for me to check out their accommodations – top fucking notch. I was not surprised at all of course because when you travel with Semester at Sea, nothing is overlooked and you stay at the very best of the very, very best. The Renaissance Hotel in Saigon was really impressive. It was right on Riverside Road and was just up the river from the ship, with a perfect view from their window. We dropped off our bags, had a bite and then it was back to shopping. I had wanted to find a tailor to have a suit made amongst other things, so that was our next mission. We bumped into many an SAS folk on the street and I asked several of them if they had found a tailor. Luckily a friend of mine, John, had business cards from the tailor he went to on Dong Khoi Street, which was not far from where the hotel was at all.

I bought an Esquire magazine on the way to the tailor for some quick influence because I had forgot to do so in other countries, though it was hard to even find or see stuff like that in other countries. I got some quick influence and also looked at the many books of styles they had in the shop. I went in thinking I knew exactly what I wanted, for the most part anyway. But of course what I realized is that when you are getting clothes that are made from scratch, you have so many more options!!! Pleats? Cuffs? Pockets? Hem Length? Buttons? The Fit, the fabric…EVERYTHING! I was overwhelmed. I choose a fabric for my suit, a subtle charcoal with a pin stripe. Of course then I started looking through the magazine and started coming up with a few other ideas. There was a picture of a guy in a long trench coat that was used as an outdoors sort of rain coat. Well, there was a fabric in the store that I wanted for something, I just didn’t know what. Well, that was it. Instead of having it made as an outdoor coat, I was going to have them make it as a long dress coat. A cream colored fabric with a stitched black pinstripe – a perfect eye catcher with black pants and shirt, with a solid colored tie. My thought was evening cocktails at the Metropolitan when I get back in the city. It goes down to just above mid-calf and is the fit of a dream. When I went back for my first fitting, I added on a few pairs of linen pants to the order. And when I tried on the suit, of course it wasn’t done yet, there was a sleeve missing and there were chalk marks all over, but when I put it on, when I put my leg into the pants and pulled them up over my waist, fastened the button I could feel that they were actually made to fit me! As I put my arm into the jacket and buttoned it around me, I once again could feel that it was made to fit my body - my shoulders, my waist, my legs, arms and torso. What a great feeling it was. Of course by this time, you could see that my mother was also brewing something in that fashionable mind of hers. She started walking down to street while I was finishing up with the initial order. She too found a tailor a few doors down and we came up with the perfect outfit. I had to draw it out for the ladies at the shop to understand, but it came out exactly how she wanted it. It once again amazed me that language is not a barrier when it comes to communication. I learned that even more in China where they spoke the least amount of English out of any country we’ve visited, including Vietnam.

After the excitement of our tailors, they went back to the hotel and me back to the ship so I could round up some friends and we could all head to dinner with the rents. Luckily all the good, close friends were back at the ship and of course they were more than happy to join us for dinner. There was five of us, myself, YuYu, Margaux, Amanda, and Chad. We headed to the hotel and waited in the lobby for Mom, Dad and Betty to join us. Of course since they said we had a few minutes, we decided to order a cocktail and enjoy the sounds of the piano, violin and bass player while we sipped on our drinks. Betty joined us just in time and enjoyed a cocktail with us. Mom was the last one down of course because she had to change three times because of her weird sunburn – the disguise of clothing.

Dad had called the concierge and asked them to make reservations for us at one of the best restaurants in Vietnam. Well, they did not let us down. The recommendation from the ship was a place called The Lemon Grass; luckily they had no room for us so they made us reservations a place called The Mandarin. We showed up and it was sort of an unimpressive façade, it was tucked in around several other small buildings and restaurants on a little side street, about a five-minute cab ride from the hotel. Well, we walked in and were stunned. There again, like the hotel, was a pianist, violinist, and cellist serenading the dining ones. Our table wasn’t ready because we had one more to the group now, so we were sent into the side waiting room where there were beautiful chairs, flowers and low tables. We ordered a drink. There was a plethora to pick from. Our table was ready in a matter of minutes and off we went to the dining room.

Since there was seven of us, they tried to get us all to get the prefix menu, but it had lots of meat and Margaux and I are both veges, and Chad and Betty weren’t too hungry so we asked for regular menus. I was overwhelmed by all the choices. I picked out like ten things and narrowed it down to two. When I ordered my food though, I thought the waiter said to me after ordering two items, “Not enough.” So I ordered two more items. I ended up with the Vegetarian Spring Rolls (toooooo die for!), Sautéed Tofu, Mixed Vegetables and Fried Noodles with Vegetables. WHAT A MEAL IT WAS. Of course it was more than I would of ordered in an American restaurant, and more than I would of liked to have eaten, but I just couldn’t not finish the meal!!! It was amazing. Different flavors and cooked to perfection. Now, Mom and Dad and Amanda and YuYu ordered the prefix meal. It was for two people and was like 5 or 6 courses. They didn’t realize that until they just started bring more and more and more and more and more food! The best part about everyone’s dishes was that they came with some of the most amazing garnishes I’ve ever seen in my life. Most of them made from carrots, which must have been the size of a goddamn baseball bat, I kid you not. My first dish came with a rooster, Betty’s spring rolls came with a Temple, Margaux got a Tricycle and Cart and the prefix meals were even more impressive. A bouquet of flowers made from lemongrass with the rich shaped into a big flower. The entire body of the lobster garnishing the food underneath it, simply there for the show made the dish all the better. Not only was the food fucking fabulous, but also the presentation was top notch. Even at the best of the best restaurants, you don’t see garnish like that in the States. It was an art from; a flawless one that was a constant site for the eyes and brought huge laughs, cheers and smiles each time a new dish came.

Six courses later…and many a drink later came dessert. It was a margarita glass in a dish of dry ice (so there was fog pouring out the bottom of it, overflowing onto the table creating a stunning theatrical effect), in the glass were lyches (lie-cheese) stuffed with lotus pod seeds in a sugary sauce with ice keeping it cold. It was a different taste, not to sweet, certainly not a dessert you would see on just any menu. After being absolutely stuffed to the max, and sharing all sorts of stories about past months and travels, we jumped back into two taxis and headed back to the hotel. The kids of course had plans to continue on with the evening, all of us expecting the adults to retire to their suites. To our great surprise however, Big Bob decided to join us in our adventures to the club! It was so exciting, everyone, including myself was absolutely ecstatic.

Of course we had heard before leaving the ship where everyone was going for the night, a place called The Apocalypse. It was within walking distance from the hotel; just on the other side of the three land rotary that lie in front of the hotel. We managed to make it across that and find our way to the club. We got to the front of the place and to no surprise of ours it was inundated with Semester at Sea drunkards already. It was a laugh though. Dad wanted to go back to the hotel, but we convinced him to have few drinks with us, we really had to twist his arm (please note: thick sarcasm). Into the club we went and it was quite crazy. When we first went in, Dad’s first comment was, “Jeffrey, it’s like a bunch of sailors getting off the ship in a new port from the Navy!” I screamed, “That’s what we are!!!” People everywhere, of all ages really, though most of the older folk seemed a bit creepy. But there were some mid-aged local couples that seemed to be enjoying themselves. We found the bar and ordered some drinks. We enjoyed the beers and then some of the girls that came to dinner with us wanted to buy Dad a shot. Again, we really had his arm in knots before he said yes, but surely we got him to agree. We toasted to ‘Nam and snapped a few shots and downed away. Dad stayed a bit longer and then headed back to the hotel for the night. It was absolutely great while he was there. Several of my friends were thrilled to meet him and some thought he was this creepy guy just hanging around us. My friend Eric even came up to me started talking and then my Dad chimed in, Eric gave him this ridiculous look and then looked at me, and I was like, “Eric, meet my Dad.” It was hysterical; he thought it was some old guy just trying to fit in! It was great.

After Dad left a few of us decided we wanted to try another place. Margaux and I literally ran outside and the two of us jumped on the back of a scooter and told the driver to take us to a bar, any bar. We didn’t care about the bar; it was more the fun of the scooter ride. Of course, Amanda and YuYu had plans to follow, but their driver had other plans for them. Needless to say, we didn’t end up at the same bar. We videoed the ride and laughed like hell the entire time. We ended up at the Blue Gecko, an Australian bar with an hysterical list of drinks, beers and shots. Most of the time, initially, server’s thought we were from Australia and would offer us Foster’s to start, and then go on and list a few other Aussie Beers (XXX, etc.). They quickly learned that the massive amount of white people just in town were from America, not the A-land down under. We had a few drinks there and went back out where our driver was happily waiting to take us back to Apocalypse. Off we went, of course even less stable than the last time we were on and headed back to the club. We were there for a while longer and more people came and went, more drinks were had and fun time-shared. We magically made it back to the ship only to pass out and wake up the next morning at like 0630 to meet up with the parents on the trip to the CuChi (coochie) tunnels.

Another great thing about Vietnam is you get to say things like, Dong and CuChi (coochie), and people took you seriously!

It was a three-hour bus ride to where we were going, thankfully because I certainly needed to extra sleep. Our first stop was an interesting temple, like none I had been to in any other country. It was a temple that houses a religion that was a mix of three. Clearly a very open type of religion because if was Buddhist, Taoist, and Catholic…all in one. To me that sounds more like a horror house than a temple, but it was quite beautiful. Very open inside with massive, massive columns brightly colored in pink, red, blue and yellow. The columns had dragons and vines going up them all painted in the bright colors. There was a mass going on while we visited, thankfully there was a walkway above and around the interior. We looked down on a white marble floor in the center with a boarder of printed tiles. Men and women filed in, mostly in white robes but the select few were either in a red, blue or yellow robe. This signified which religion they were: Catholic, Buddhist, or Taoist. Blue robes were for Taoist, Yellow for Buddhist, and Red was for Catholic. The white robes were for the religion as a whole, the mix of the three if you will. I wondered as I watched them pray, what do they take from each religion. Perhaps the concentration of a Buddhist, the caring (?) of a Catholic, and level mindset of a Taoist. Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a religion that took the best from each of the beliefs of the world and found a way to bring religions together as opposed to further stretching the divide between them? Just a thought.

From the temple we drove about 15 minutes and went for lunch. Everyone was wondering where we would be eating considering all there was around us were villages, roadside “diners,” and farms. Well, we drove for a bit and then came upon this village where there was a HUGE building and in it was a nice restaurant, clearly only there for the tourist that regularly pass through the region. The good thing was that it could employ local people from the village it was in. There were also little local outlets you walked past as you walked into the restaurant. After our meal we got back on the bus. I decided to chance my luck by sitting in the raised back section. There were about 6 children that were running up and down the bus waving “bye” to us. We didn’t take off right away and thankfully, my seat had a window that slid open. I opened and began talking to the girls and boys below. One girl, about 4 years old, went over and picked a flower/weed and reached up as far as she could with the biggest smile she could give and handed it to me. I was hanging half way out the bus just trying to reach down to her. Of course then all the kids ran over with these in their hands, throwing them into my window. We were all laughing and having a good time, they were posing for my camera. I would take a picture of them and then show them the picture; they would all laugh and beg to take another one, of course not speaking any English. Finally, Dad was like, “Jeffrey, give them a dollar.” So I took the dollar and reached out the window hoping to give it to the little girl but of course her older, and much taller sister jumped up and snatched the bill from my hand. Well, didn’t that cause some animosity among the group of youngins. Another girl walked up to me and put her hand up with a big smile, when I didn’t give her what she wanted, her face turned to an angry frown and she pouted and walked off. They chased around the girl with the dollar and then came back to me for some more entertainment. As the bus drove off they waved, screamed bye and chased us.

As far as driving through rural Vietnam, it was still not what I expected. Yes of course there were rice paddies and people wading through them up to their neck in water, but it was still not what I pictured. Though then again, no country has been and no country ever will be what ones hopes, dreams or wishes it would be. There is always going to be the unexpected, the surprise that blows your mind. The road was paved, for the most part. At one point, dad was sitting at the very back of the bus and we went over this huge bump and he slammed his head on the ceiling. I woke up to him and the others in the back seat laughing and rubbing their heads. Naturally, there were your cows and goats roaming the streets. Looking out into the fields there were Water Buffalo that looked as if they had been spray-painted gray, but it was the dried mud that gave them a stony glow. We passed a rubber plantation. This was an impressive site because there were hundreds of trees and they were all lined up in perfect rows. No matter which way you looked, from the front, side, or on an angle, they were in perfectly straight lines. Something interesting about those trees, one cannot harvest the rubber from them for at least 7 years from the time they were planted. The French brought the rubber trees over after they realized the similar climates from some of their other colonies in Africa. During the War in Vietnam, the US had to pay for all the rubber crops they destroyed while dropping chemicals (mostly Agent Orange) that cleared forests and stripped anything even resembling life away.

This talk of the War leads us right into our next stop for the day: The CuChi Tunnels. This system of tunnels, more than 200 miles long, is clearly part of the reason the US was not fully successful during the War with Northern Vietnam. The tunnels started being constructed after 1945 and started being used during the Franco-Vietnamese War (War with the French). Though there were not nearly as many by the time that war was fought, it was the beginning of a system that would allow Vietcong people to fight with secrecy and defiance. The tunnels were dug with a simple pick ax, and both men and women took part in the building process. The intricate system of paths leads you all over southern Vietnam, as far west as the Cambodian boarder. There were three layers to the tunnels. The top layer, closest to the surface was where the kitchens, bedrooms, armory storage and making facilities were. The second was a series of paths connecting these rooms to each other with crawl-able tunnels and staircases that lead you deeper and deeper into the earth. Below the second was yet another layer of tunnels in which you would use if you were being chased because there were traps that could be set as you went deeper and deeper down. The ventilation system was minimal and not that effective, so tunnel passage was done as quickly as possible. Though, if you needed to, one could survive underground for up to a month.

In the kitchen there were stoves and tables, place to eat and drink and use the bathroom. They went to the bathroom in the bullet boxes left behind by the Americans. As far as cooking on the stoves goes, behind each stove was a channel for the smoke to go. As it filled the next channel, it was lead to another one slightly above it, as that one filled, it went into yet another channel above that one and from there it was at the surface. By the time the smoke reached the air, it was so faint and light, it was hard to notice even from ground level, let alone flying above in a plane. Now you might be wondering about the size of these tunnels. Well, let me tell you, first off they made the actual tunnels bigger for tourist – specifically those with larger bodies from the Western part of the world. Even with the tunnels being enlarged, when Mom, Dad and I went through them, you will still completely hunched down, using your hands with your knees bent to the fullest. The width was about a meter, narrower in some parts, and the height was maybe a bit more than that. There were faint yellow flickering lights in the tunnels now, and most of us brought flashlights. I preferred to keep the light off to set the mood a bit more. Just imagine for a second you are being attacked from above; you luckily made it into one of the entrances that disguises from where you entered; bombs dropping overhead, no light, a gun on in your arms with your bag on your back. Sweat pouring down your face as you crawl as fast as you can through these 100 plus degree tunnels. Not knowing if it is going to collapse in front of you or on top of you. The original size of these tunnels was half of what they are now. You could only crawl on your stomach, there was no squatting. And you had to be able to move at incredible speeds, sometimes with some chasing you from behind. Corners in front of you with dirt in you face, sweat pouring down and your life flashing before you.

Most people would think that since these tunnels and chambers were underground that they would be cooler, naturally air-conditioned if you will. But it was quite the contrary. Maybe they were cool if you were the first one down them in the morning, but remember that ventilation system, that bad, if not pointless ventilation system. Well, as soon as there were a few people in there, with their breath and hot body running around, up went that temperature, and out went all of your hydration. In 25 meters that Mom and Dad crawled through, they were sweating of course when they got into the tunnels because of the heat, but by the time they were done with the 25m, they were a bit sweatier. I continued on another 75 meters, completing the 100 m crawl. The further you went the more it changed, very narrow at parts, with niches and alcoves as you moved on. By the time I was done, I was truly soaked. Maybe it was because I started to rush and breathe more towards the end because I was getting a bit nervous in that little tiny tunnel for the time I had been in there.

We walked above ground, no the landscape feeling a bit more like Vietnam, with jungle like trees all around us, birds screaming and bugs flying about. Of course there were beaten paths, but 30 years ago there were none, and I’m sure the forest was much thicker as well. Of course the sound of AK’s and Machine Guns only added to the ambiance. Yes, that’s right, the sounds of war all around you. A firing range was there with AK-47s, Machine Guns and of course the name of the other gun is escaping me right now, yes, go-ahead laugh, laugh away. Anyway, Dad shot off both guns. The AK and the one whose name is escaping me, he bought five shots from each. He hit the target with one bullet from each. Of course after each shot you had to regroup yourself and find your ears that tucked inside your head like a cold penis or a turtle, which ever gives you the better picture. From there it was back through the woods and back onto the bus for the hour and a half back to Saigon.

Once we got back, mom and I went out to run to a few stores and find some new things. It was great. We had to go back to the hotel, to meet Dad for dinner. But I was lucky enough to convince Mom to jump on the back of a scooter with me. I’ve got pictures and a video of the whole thing! The funny part about it was the guy who took us was clearly not a regular scooter driver. He just happened to be there when we wanted a scooter, and I’m sure he was more than happy to make a buck. He wanted me to get behind him and then mom on the back, but I knew that I had to be the one on the back. So, on mom got, in her skirt and all, wrapped her arms around the driver and I jumped on and off we went. As we drove off, all the people he was ‘hanging’ out with laughed like hell as a 40+ year old woman and her son climbed on the back of his moped. The pictures are great. They are so much fun to ride on, and the driver did an especially good job of driving slower than the norm and not giving mom a heart attack.

We decided to chance out luck and walk down the block to find a restaurant. We walked down three blocks from the hotel passing all kinds of places to chow down, French Cuisine, and lots of Vietnamese. Thankfully, we kept on walking and stumbled upon a place called Santa Lucia. Dad checked out the menu and said lets go for it. They had streak and a full menu of Italian dishes. We sat down, drooled over the delicisous dishes offered, especially since it wasn’t of Eastern decent, and made our decisions. Of course we were thrilled to order Brushetta, the three of ours favorite. And it certianlty lived up to par, heavely. Perfectly toasted break with finely diced tomates, hints of basil, olive oil, and garlic, garlic, garlic. They also brought over a plate of different types of anti-pasto. Tomatoes, beets, baked bread type items, veggies with dip, and a delicious roasted eggplant that was to die for. Mom and Dad both ordered steaks, and I got a homemade Spinach Ravioli with ricotta filling in a cheesy cream sauce with fresh chunk tomatoes that I asked for. When they brought over our food, Dad had asked for his steak Medium-Rare and Mom Medium-Well. HA. Dad’s was basically black and blue and Mom’s was partially still mooing. They took them back and threw them on a bit longer, and no complaints. Delicious, absolutely delicious meal. Of course dessert was just as wonderful. Dad got a Chocolate Mouse, Mom a White Chocolate Coffee Mouse, and I got an Espresso with Vanilla Gelato. Not to mention the great wine we had.

I headed back to the ship and randomly met up with a few people at the port side shop/bar, not even a block from the ship. It was some good, relaxing fun.

The next day Mom, Dad, and I had to ourselves. As I’m sure you can imagine, we did some shopping after breakfast, and then some more shopping after lunch, and so on and so on. Later in the afternoon, we were a bit tired, and Mom and I were itching to relax our bodies. We went up to the pool for a bit, checked out the view from the top and checked out the services offered for the body at the hotel. There was nothing really, just dry massages. So we called the Concierge for recommendations as to where to get some good treatments for the body and soul. There was one right across the street, but we were more attracted to one of the brochures they gave us. It was called La Masion du L’Apothicaurie (sp). It was a French Spa with some of the best treatments we’d ever seen. We went to the one closest to the hotel, but they were booked. Luckily their sister shop, a few miles away, had openings for what we wanted to do. We couldn’t get in for another hour or so, so we decided to grab our map and walk there. It was a nice walk, through parks and regions unseen to the foreigner’s eye, past schools and shops, restaurants and residencies. After darting into street and dodging mopeds, we found the spa. It was off the beaten path if you will, we had to walk down a wide stone pathway with big stones for you to walk on, and trees making an archway above our heads. We arrived at the building, which must have been an old residence. A pool, beautiful entry way and wonderful, warm greeting by the employees made our arrival all the better. Open architecture, arched pathways, and gardens of beauty made our quick stay at this spa even greater. When we told them we walked from their other shop, they were all stunned that we had walked. They brought us water immediately and were quick to give us some tea as well. They then presented us with this menu of mixed drinks; non-alcoholic of course, they were immune boosting, skin enhancing, and antioxidant-blended beverages.

We had a personal skin session to determine what type of skin we had and what facial treatment would be best suitable for us. Well, we both ended up getting diagnosed as having the same type of skin; dehydrated, and sun kissed. Mine was of course oily as well. We both ended up with the same facial as well. We ordered massages and manicures and pedicures as well. We were led up to the mani/pedi room, which was nothing like a room you’d find at a spa or shop at home. We sat in suede chairs that were very comfortable, but they didn’t have any massagers or anything of the sort. After the hand and foot work, I was whisked to the massage/facial room where my body completely melted. An amazing back massage where at one point, the masseuse was on the table working my back. I choose the energizing oils that stimulated blood flow and the scent was wonderful. Next up, my facial. It was like a 12-step facial. I had feelings in my face that I had never felt before. I had never had a facial before, but mom said it was the best she had ever had – by far.

To no surprise of ours, we were running late and in a rush to get back and meet Dad who had been waiting for quite some time outside the tailor that mom was going her fitting at. We jumped in a cab and headed over there to meet Dad and have mom try on her outfit. Flawless fit it was. I headed back to the ship to see if I still had any friends left to go out with. Luckily, I did. We all decided to head out and ended up at a place that was filled with foreigners. It was interesting really, meeting people from England and Australia, Germany and even the US. It wasn’t all that exciting and the drinks were too expensive for Vietnam, so I made it an early night believe it or not.

The following morning, I met up with Mom and Dad for breakfast at the hotel. We had a service visit trip that we were going on in the afternoon and decided we were going to spend the morning at the War Remnants Museum. What an eye-opener this was. Now, as I write this, I don’t want you to think I hold hostility or any sort of hatred toward the people and the government of Vietnam. After all, the government in power now was the insurgency fighting off Americans during our tenure in Vietnam. And as we know damn well, those who will wars get to write the history. Though that’s not to say they were writing history, more just portraying the history from a different angle. When you walked into the complex you were surrounded by leftover American military equipment. Three plans, two choppers, a few tanks, several large artillery machines, bulldozers, and rocket launchers greeted you. There were write-ups at each piece of equipment, explaining the use, how many were in Vietnam, and the destruction or massacre they were responsible for. As you walked into the building in front of you, to the left were colorful pieces of artwork done by students from cities all over Vietnam. Frankly, my presumption is that most of them were done in the north because of what they portrayed. It was all paintings and drawing of “emotions” and “feelings” of the “aftermath” of war. The ages of the artists ranged from 4-16 years old. They all carried a common theme; most of them had lovely white doves and a globe, very brightly colored paintings, with children of the world holding hands with smiles on their faces. To me, it seemed scripted. All of the titles were similar, if not the same. It seemed like a group project where everyone was told what he or she were to put in their picture, and as long as they did that, they could add anything else they wanted too.

As you walked around this vast open room, there were pieces of sculpture, but it was mostly the photography and descriptions on the walls that captured the eye. I want to make it clear that I do not object to any of the information that was provided, nor did I disagree with the portrayal or depiction. I was an observer. Remember, the people that we, Americans fought are the ones who were in charge of this museum, so they really have the right to do and say whatever they want. There were however, horrific images, true, real photographs of some of the things that American soldiers did, as well as some southern Vietnamese fighters. In the descriptions of the photographs, the words chose to describe the image were well thought through and chosen wisely. Viscous and scathing words used to describe the actions of the Americans, just as Americans used to describe the actions of the Vietcong and the Iraqi insurgency of today. What startled me was that I had never seen words like this before in a museum, an historical one especially. One section was devoted to places Americans bombed. To no surprise, they chose to show images of the schools and churches that were bombed, the villages that were destroyed and burned to the ground. I can’t blame them. It was a smart and tactical move. Again, remember, the people who created this museum are the ones that were fighting against the Americans, not with. What made it even more interesting is that the museum was in Saigon, the former capital of South Vietnam, a place where the US defended with all its might during its time of struggle with the war.

One of the other sections was devoted to the chemical warfare used by the US Military during the war, specifically Agent Orange. Agent Orange was used for a variety of different reasons, and supposedly, since the War in Vietnam, it has been ruled out of warfare by the US Military, though traces have been found in Iraq as being used for different means. Agent Orange was used to clear forest. Stripping every tree bear of its leaves, and eating anything it touches, including human skin. A large majority of the photographs were of victims who fell into the drop zone of the chemical. Their skin badly charred and burned, as if acid had eaten away at it and left a torched body to die an horrific and painful death. Birth defects and long-term damage was clearly shown to show the aftermath of what war does to a country. The US never paid up for the dues it said it would after the use of Agent Orange.

There was also an entire section devoted to Senator Bob Kerry (D-IA). It was a huge photograph of his Senate headshot and the story of what he did, along with fellow troops to a village and family in Vietnam. A brutal and appalling story of what the war crime consisted of. Kerry recently admitted to the American people and citizens of Vietnam what he did, though he was never tried with a war crime. He had a formal trial in front of the House and Senate, admitting to his wrongdoing. The write-up said that Kerry never formerly apologized to the Vietnamese people for his viscous, heartless, and inhumane acts during the war. Now, Kerry may be an American Senator, a Democrat, and frankly, I probably agree with him on most political issues. However, that should not exclude him from a war crimes charge.

The most touching and moving part of the museum was in an entirely different building. It was the “truths” of the war as told through the eyes and lenses of the many photographers of the war from all over the world. Seventy-six of them were memorialized in this exhibit in which their photographs and life story tid-bits were shared. Stunning, as well as shocking photographs that these 76 photographers, all of which died during the war, were on display without government propaganda or interference for visitors to see. There were I think three women, one of them from Maine, Dicky was her first name, which she changed, I can’t remember her last. She started shooting war footage during WWII and took it upon herself to continue doing so during Korea and Vietnam. There was a photo that one of the troops she traveled with took of her after she died from when the chopper she was traveling in went down. She was lying on the ground dead, with the General from her platoon giving her last rights. A vivid image of war it was.

What made the museum so impressive, especially for me as an American-educated citizen was the perspective from the other side. Obviously we are not taught or told those things in our history classes on American soil. God for bid, Americans commit inhumane and indecent acts and then tell citizens about it. (My o my, sounds like modern day Abu Grab, doesn’t it?) Again, I object to nothing that I saw, and can’t say I disagree with the words used to describe the actions and photos of the American Military. On their part, it was literary genius.

After our propagandized yet educational morning, it was off to a different market in Chinatown. (Yes, there are Chinatowns in cities all over the world…what do you expect from the people with the world’s largest population?) We arrived at this market, which was much different from the other. First off, everything was in its own section. There was a shoe sections, with I kid you not, millions of shoes. Of course each place I walked into they would point and laugh at my feet because they were gianormous compared to Vietnamese standards. Not one place had my size. There was a scarf section and a cooking section, a food section, a baby section, a clothes section and so on and so on. What was drastically different from this market was that it was like the sellers wanted nothing to do with you. We were ignored, disregarded and blatantly pushed aside by people and vendors we would of happily bought from. O well.

From there it was off and away on our service visit. We first stopped at a school for the deaf in district 8 of Saigon. District 8 is one of the poorer regions of the city and thanks to city and government funding this school is a daily home to 45 students. We spent about an hour with them, playing games and communicating via notepads. I must admit, me trying to communicate with a deaf person was quite difficult, yet happily amusing. I would chatter away in trying to talk to them, crack jokes and wonder at first why they weren’t responding. Ask questions hoping for more exciting answers…and still, nothing really. But it was fun, we would draw pictures after they asked us questions like, “What is your name?” “How old are you?” (They asked Mom and Dad too. As a general note: most other countries in the world are far less concerned about asking the age of an elder than in the West…well, really just the US) “What is your address?” etc, etc. We drew out pictures of our house and pets and tried explaining where we came from and how I got there and how mom and dad got there. It was a great experience and the kids seemed very happy to interact with us.

From there it was onto an Orphanage. This was not just any orphanage; it was a home for the handicapped and mentally challenged. Basically, it was a shelter because these were children that were abandoned or given up because of their disabilities. Most were bed-stricken and had minimal movement. All had to be fed, but there was one boy who was feeding himself and even gave the biggest smile as food was running down his face he was yelling, “HELLO!!! HELLO!!!” In one of the many rooms we visited, Mom was playing with one of the kids in their cribs (metal, low sides, with a plain mattress and sheet, a toy or two). Well, he got very excited and it was amazing at how strong these children were. He pulled himself up now, and was reaching out for her to pick him up. She just kept on playing with him, smiling and laughing as a tear rolled down her cheek. He then got really excited and tried to jump out of the crib; this nearly gave her a heart attack. She jumped to catch him and the nurse/caregiver was just standing at the end of his bed and she was laughing and smiling. Mom asked, “Do they fall out a lot?” She didn’t seem to understand, so we did our best to act it out…she nodded her head and laughed like hell. Whether she understood us or not, I have no doubt that all of these children, those could move, fall out of their beds every once and a while. I’d probably throw myself out on a daily basis.

We went to the Lemon Grass that night for dinner; it was the restaurant that came highly recommended by SAS so we figured we better try it. Well, I’ll tell you, it didn’t compare to the Mandarin. We were on the third floor, so that had a bit to do with it as well. But I can’t say the food was bad, the presentation just wasn’t there. After the meal, I headed back to the ship and Mom wanted to go into a ship next door. Dad stayed with her but ended up falling asleep in one of the chairs in the store. I can just imagine, a LeFrancois falling asleep somewhere other than a bed? Mom said that the shop owners little son ended up falling asleep next to Dad and resting his head on his arm. So Dad at least served a purpose while in the store: a pillow.

The next day, Betty returned from what she called an excellent trip in Cambodia. She said it was great, if only it wasn’t for the heat: 110-degree weather. It was in the 90s in Saigon most of the time, and humid, humid. That morning we were headed off to the Mekong Delta, about two and a half hours south of Saigon. We stopped at a Temple along the way, yet another one of which I’d seen nothing like it. From there we drove a bit further and arrived on the river. A massive river at that, we boarded a riverboat and were headed for a little island, though the biggest in the delta for a tour. From the big boat, we stepped onto the island and walked a ways in to a little outdoors café type place where we tried a variety of different local fruits. After they pressed us past the “gift shop,” we boarded little boats, canoes of a sort. The four of us got into one, with a rower on the bow and one on the stern. I would say the canoes were about 4-5 meters (12-15ft) long, and very low into the water. We each put on our traditional Vietnamese hats (the lampshade, cone hats) and down the stream we went. This felt like Vietnam; it was how I pictured it. Murky water, with the scent of a swamp, surrounded by tall, tall palms and trees, with their roots running into the mucky mud, down into the water, with only light coming through their leaves, at times full sun when there would be a break in the canopy overhead. Hot still, humid and sticky. The sounds of birds, the swarming of mosquitoes and bugs, the water flowing past us, and the ore’s dipping in and out of the water as we navigated our way down this stream that was anywhere from 5-15 feet wide. There were other canoes passing us going the other direction, and we pushed on. Never slowing, never stopping, keeping a steady speed as we moved down this stream of sorts.

Go back 30 years and imagine it even thicker with trees and foliage, obviously no tourists, wading through the water, not paddling, and knowing that at any second, at the drop of a leaf, someone might jump out and try to kill you. Not knowing what is around each corner, not knowing what is looming in the waters below you, only hoping, praying that you will make it back to your command post, safely, with all you limbs in tact.

From there we went to a candy making plant…if you can call it that. They made coconut candies, and they were delicious. All self-sustainable, using each part of the coconut to make the candy, the meat and milk for the food, and the shell for the fuel to keep the fire going in order to boil the meat. Like all the other food making places I visited, there was a perfect manor and way about doing the candy making. Each step done the same way each time, from the boiling to the shaping, and cutting to the packaging – there was precision in the steps. We all got to sample the hot, fresh candy, which was like a dream. Melted in your mouth and destroyed all the dental work you’d had in the past 10 years at the same time!

We got back into out little boats and headed further down the stream. Finally we were back out onto the main river, at which point we were taken to another island where we were severed delicious honey tea. We also got to hold a bee’s nest in our hands, their one warning was, “Just don’t drop it!” Hahaha. There was also this boy running around with his python in around his neck. The snake was about 5-6 feet and you would just walk up to the boy and he would literally throw the snake around you neck. It was a bit nerve racking, knowing that the snake could just start constricting, cutting off my air supply whenever it wanted, thankfully he wasn’t hungry. The funny thing was, you’d have it around your neck and the boy would get distracted and run off. I was standing there, really wanting this snake off my neck and he just wasn’t there to do it. I had to wait a bit longer, and finally he came and threw it on Mom’s neck, and then Dad’s. Betty enjoyed touching the snake. It was a great family affair.

We got back into the big boats and headed back to the mainland to head out for lunch. We arrived at this massive structure, with an all palms roof; the inside was a massive dining hall. All open around, with just the roof. Beautiful ponds and gardens with flowers you only see in the movies (or at LeFrancois’ Floral and Gifts during a special occasion) surrounding you as you sat and ate your meal. The meat eaters were served Elephant Ear fish. It was brought to the table whole, fried, and it was standing up on the plate like a fish would be in the water. It was cut and served right in front of you. It was quite a site for the eyes, whether you tried the fish or not. All of the fish from the river is a meatier type, not flaky, and does tend to have a fishier taste to it.

From there it was back on the bus for the ride back and some shuteye. We got back to Saigon and went to pick up our tailored goods – perfect, perfect, perfect if I might add. After that I ran back to the ship will all my shit and changed for our last dinner. The rents were sort of fed up with local food so we decided to head back to Santa Lucia. Betty hadn’t been there, and the food was delicious so we had no complaints. It was a perfect Bon Voyage meal. Cheese Gnocchi’s with Spinach, Risotto, Steak and a Sun Dried Tomato and Pesto Pasta filled our bellies, in addition to the Brushetta and antipasto salad bar. I tried a new wine this time, a red one, it was delicious. Dessert was just a wonderful, I went for the Tiramisu this time, and it was a pleaser.

After dinner, Mom wanted to ride with me back to the ship for our big Good-Bye. We all got into the cab and I did my best to explain to the driver where to take us. He had no idea. He went in the complete opposite direction. After trying hard to explain where we were going, and me just wanting to get back to the ship, we had him stop and found a new cab. Thankfully, this one knew where he was going and we made it there. We got out, said our sweet, sweet, and blissful goodbyes, and went our separate ways. Me back onto my floating palace, and the three land dwellers back to their hotel, ready to go back to Thailand and then onto the States.

Vietnam was fantastic. Saigon was a city full of life, beaming with a glow that has lived through some treacherous times. For a people that are still under the restrictions of a communist government, they are pleasant and happy beings. From the scooters to the delta and the propaganda-packed museum to the markets and tailors, Vietnam is a country I would highly recommend over all the other ports I’ve been to thus far on this Voyage. I think my parents and Betty would say the same, it is a wonderful and easy place to experience. The food is fantastic, the people are pleasant (for the most part), the scenery is striking, and the culture is charming. We were only in a small part of the beautiful country; there are beaches to the north and mountains to the west, cooler climates to the north and rural regions all over. Though the people from the North tend to be colder and more self-oriented (as said from people who went to Hanoi, official capital of the country in the Northern region), I would still highly recommend finding your way to Vietnam. Whether it’s by ship or plane, if you have a chance get there. Just think, you could go there once a year, get an entire wardrobe made, and still save money on what you would of paid for all the clothes you got in the US. India is still my favorite country as far as food and culture, however, Vietnam is standing tall and strong in second place because of its lively hood, mopeds, scenery, and shopping.

I’ll be in Japan tomorrow morning (4/11) until the evening of the 15th. From there, its two week 'cross the Pacific and sadly, then we arrive in San Diego. I’m still hoping to get China up and done before I get to Japan…we’ll see if my fingers can make it through that much typing.

Sayonara.