Locked out of iCloud

UPDATE: It seems tweeting and posting about it might have worked. Within a few hours of tweeting my blog to Tim Cook, Phil Schiller and every Apple journalist I could think of, engineering called me, took a ton of security info and fixed the problem right away. Not sure if it was just Katerina in support finally getting through to them or my tweeting worked, but just glad to be clear! Since the issue is now resolved, I've removed all the account details and info from this post.

For six weeks, I have been completely locked out of the Apple ecosystem. I'm writing this post in the (probably vain) hope that I can get someone's attention at Apple enough to have my issue paid enough attention if I distribute it around. I know it's a long shot, but I'm desperate at this point. Let me describe the issue.

Starting in early November, I started having login issues with my iCloud account (account id [REDACTED]). Initially, this was limited to the web interface at icloud.com only. I wasn't able to log in at all through the web; all I would see was the spinning loading icon (though I could go into the account setting pages, just nowhere else). I could log onto the AppleID management page at appleid.apple.com and change things around, it was just the icloud.com suite of services that wasn't working.

I rang Apple Support, and they indicated that it looked like the log in wasn't completing, it never actually finished logging on, which is why I saw the spinning icon. They suggested I try on different devices and different network, none of which made any difference. They then suggested I change my password, which I did (again, to no success). Then the problem started getting worse.

The first escalation in the issue I had was that my iOS devices (iPhone and iPad) would periodically make me sign back in. That was annoying, but the sign in worked. Then all of a sudden, on the 8th of November, nothing worked. I couldn't log in. Not on my iMac, my iPhone, my iPad, or my work PC running Windows. I was locked out. I rang Apple support again. By this time, I had been bumped to senior support, who weren't able to diagnose the problem beyond the fact that there was something odd where it seemed to be trying to use two-factor authentication (TFA), which didn't have enabled (I'd turned it off after a different issue that prevented me logging in back in June, but which was resolved in a day or two).

That was six weeks ago. I am still unable to log into any iCloud/AppleID services, other than appleid.apple.com and the account settings page on icloud.com. That's it. I've been completely cut off, not only from my primary email, but from my entire Apple-based digital ecosystem. If I try my newly-updated password, I get an incorrect password error; if I try the old one, I simply get "An unknown error occurred" (on iOS I get a message about verification that senior support said I should only ever see if I had TFA turned on, which I don't. I can access appleid.apple.com without issue using the new password.

Now, those of you who know me, know that I'm a long-standing Apple guy. My family's first Mac was a 512K in 1987; my own personal first brand-new Mac was an LC475 a few years later. I have spent about £5000 this year on Apple gear: a 5K i7 iMac, an iPhone X 256GB and an AppleTV 4th gen (not counting the iPad Air 2 I got a year or two ago). Every one of these devices is connected to the rest-I stream video back and forth, link my iMessages, share photos between devices, use AirDrop and Continuity, etc. I am wholly embedded in Apple's ecosystem to an extent that I currently find alarming given the circumstances.

It is bad enough to lose access to my primary email, an address I have had for over fifteen years. It's worse to lose access to it at a time when I was job searching and that address was on dozens of CVs. It's worse to lose it when I'm contacting architects about major building work and they all have that address. It's worse when that address is the login email for hundreds or thousands of website. That's all horrible and incredibly frustrating. But it doesn't stop there. Being locked out of my iCloud account means I also can't do the following:

• Update any of the apps, including paid ones, on my iMac
• Update some of the apps on my iPhone or iPad (most were bought with [REDACTED-different account] but not all)
• Call my parents, who live overseas, via FaceTime on my iPad or iMac
• Log into my AppleTV to access shows, account info, etc.
• Restore my iPhone to default (I restored my iPhone X from an iTunes backup of my 5s, so it’s semi-logged in but can’t authenticate, but now can’t be erased unless I enter the password)
• Use ApplePay on my brand new iPhone X
• Retrieve my photos stored on iCloud
• Retrieve my documents stored on iCloud (including my latest CV which I built in Pages)
• Sync my iMessages between devices, or send ANY iMessages at all from my iMac or iPad
• Add iBooks to my iPad (or iMac or iPhone)
• Download my old emails onto my iPhone (they’re stored locally on my iMac but not on the new iPhone)
• Upgrade to High Sierra (who knows if it’ll go over OK if I can’t sign into my iCloud account?)
• Just generally use any of the Apple services

Right now, I am seriously considering whether having this many eggs in one basket is a sound strategy. If I were locked out of my Facebook account, it would be a pain, but I could setup a new account if needs be. I'd inevitably miss some people off my friends list and I'd lose my account history for a few apps/sites that I use Facebook for as a login (e.g. Strava), but it wouldn't be the end of the world. My Amazon or Google accounts would similarly be seriously annoying to lose access to, but not catastrophic. But not being able to get into my Apple account is truly crippling my digital life.

So I now have to think quite seriously about whether I'd be better off with an Android phone and an Amazon TV device. Would I better to spread the risk across multiple ecosystems and live with the frustrations around interoperability while decreasing the chance that I'd ever be locked out of everything. I'm not saying Google, Amazon or Facebook are more or less likely to have this same issue, but spreading my digital life across these different ecosystems would reduce my dependency on any one of them.

I don't want to do that. I really, genuinely like my Apple gear and think it's best-in-class, and I'm happy to pay the premium for what I consider to be a premium experience. But six weeks is a frankly unacceptable amount of time to be so fundamentally constrained from digital services, many aspects of which I have paid good money for, and on devices for which I have paid very good money. Apple's ethos is that "it just works" and that takes an amazing orchestration of hardware, software, services and support, and normally, it does just work. But when it doesn't, it is incredibly limiting and incredibly frustrating.

As I say, I'm writing this in the hope that someone can help me escalate this at Apple. It's currently with the engineering team, but I think maybe it needs to be moved to a more senior engineering team. I worry with the holidays approaching that any focus that is there will be lost. I was getting daily updates from a lovely senior support engineer at Apple named Katerina, but she went on vacation for a week or so, and I've not heard back from her in the three days since she's been back. I really need to be kept in the loop about what's going on, and I really need this to be escalated to someone that can solve the problem. Six weeks is far too long-if this doesn't get resolved by the holidays, it will end up passing the two month mark, and I will be looking for a refund on my iPhone X purchase at least, as it cannot perform without access to my iCloud account. Setting up a new one isn't an option as it would require me to update everyone with a new email address and I would lose all my app and media purchases. Apple provides this service, and they need to make this work.

If you are reading this and have any ability to help it get prioritised with Apple's engineers, I'm begging you to please help! The case ID is [REDACTED]. Please someone, anyone, help me get this fixed! If you can help me achieve this in any way, big or small, please do. Thank you for reading.

The EU: Too Big to Bail

I haven't written here for a very long time. This is for a number of reasons: the blog had become largely about Electra's health and keeping people informed. When she passed, it was harder to write. Then it had been a long time. Then I was just, like, super lazy and thus didn't post for several years. But I'm writing today, because it's a momentous day: the day of the "Brexit" vote in the UK. I'm not going to expand on what that is, as I'm sure you know, or can easily find out, but I want to talk about why I voted to Remain, and why I think that's the only sensible choice.

Overall, my decision was made long ago. The main reason I'm currently awaiting the granting of my British citizenship (which I will maintain in addition to my Canadian citizenship) is for access to the EU. I'd love to be able to live and to work in Germany one day, if I so choose. Or Sweden. Or France. But even were that not true, the factual arguments are too great: our trade is heavily dependent on the EU, international trading partners including China and the US trade with big blocks like the EU, not a newly-independent UK. The UK does not have the clout it once did, and would rapidly cease to be the economic centre of Europe (and the world), causing knock-on effects in terms of job losses, a likely recession, increased cost of goods and more. Like it or not, the EU is too big to bail out of without it really hurting us.

In addition, there are social implications. The risk of Scottish (or Northern Irish) independence is too great if we leave. Travel to the continent would be more difficult and far more expensive. I would lose many friends and colleagues who are EU citizens and whose futures would now be insecure.

So, I was never really going to vote to leave. Too many experts in too many fields, be they political, scientific or economic, are resoundingly clear in their advice that remaining part of the EU is the best path for Britain (and Michael Gove is not exactly persuasive enough to convince me not to listen to experts). But I was challenged a few weeks ago as to a positive reason to stay. There has been a lot of fear, doom and gloom in the run-up to the referendum (on both side), and it's a valid question to ask: "what do we get by staying?", rather than "what do we risk losing by leaving?" And I can tell you why.

For the past decades, we have become more fractious as a people. We have started to focus less on "us" and more on "us vs. them". We talk about what makes us different: history, culture, language. In 1945, there were 86 recognised countries in the world; today there are 196. We have divided and sub-divided. We have seen independence movements from Quebec to Scotland; Catalonia to South Sudan. Some of these divisions are great (few people outside of Putin's inner circle lament the breakup of the Soviet Union and the dropping of the iron curtain). And I don't want to disparage the individuals who are passionate about their local ethnic cultures and identity, even those who seek to achieve independence to highlight this.

But I do lament our loss of a collective dream. That shining idea that there truly is more that unites us than divides us. That first and foremost, we are all people. And we are at our best when we work together. In the face of increasing globalisation and interconnectivity, we have counter-intuitively segmented ourselves further. In 1989, we famously tore down a wall that divided a people; today we seem far more intent to build them and keep "them" out (and sometimes try to charge "them" for the privilege) so we can be insular and separate.

The EU has been one of the few truly successful exceptions to this rule. Formed as a way to trade freely and to try and make it impossible for the horrors of two world wars to occur again, it has become so much more. It spawned one of the largest and most influential currencies in the world. It tore down border markers and travel restrictions, allowed mobility and equality of work for all those who called it home. It came together with all its members to stand up for workers' rights and environmental protections, for consumer protections and easy travel. And it said that we were all part of something bigger; a community of people who differed, but shared common values, identities and history that brought us together.

And the result? A community that grew. A beacon that drew in others eager for its light to shine on them and help them grow. And in exchange, it became a force for good, helping drive the core beliefs around human rights and protections of people and the environment to those who needed a bit more of a carrot to lure them over that humane line. The club grew and expanded, and those values formed a strong core around which the club could gather.

Much of what the Leave campaign says is true. the EU is huge, bulky, slow and overly bureaucratic. It is a lumbering beast that is hard to herd sometimes. There are some incredibly wasteful practices and rules, from the CAP to the rotating capital. There are some things that need fixing. And if we stay, I hope we use our considerable muscle to help reform it. I hope we don't quit. I hope we don't walk away and go it on our own, as an isolationist island with little more than a shadow of its former power.

What do we get by voting to remain? We get to say that we are part of something bigger. We get to say that sharing and working in a community is more important than going it alone and hoping for the best. We get to validate one of the greatest experiments of a generation: a generation that has seen less war, more prosperity, more rights, more freedoms, more travel and more protections than any before it. And it saddens me that we might throw that away because we can't stop focusing on what makes us different; on our personal story and history.

You should absolutely be proud of where you came from, who you are, and what makes you special. But you absolutely also be proud to be a part of something bigger. Especially if that something bigger is a community of peers working to improve the lives of its peoples.

China Trip 2014: Yangshuo: Rest, Recharge and Rice Terraces

It turns out that going full-on, from early morning to late at night, for a week or two, has a tendency to wear you out. Who knew? Katy, of course, had had a 14-hour-a-day course for a week (including weekends) before we'd met up. I hadn't had that strain, but had had a nearly restless flight over (thank you giant family group and loud children who elbowed me in the side the whole time!) so I was still fighting a sleep debt and was pretty drained. We were looking forward to our next stop, therefore, for its restfulness and chance to replenish our dwindling energy.

The stop in question was three nights in Yangshuo in Guanxi province in Southern China. After flying into Guilin airport, we would be picked up by the hotel we'd booked and taken to a bamboo raft tour of the Li River (aka the Lijiang River). We'd then spend three nights at the hotel (the Yangshuo Secret Garden). This hotel, far removed from any of the cities in the area, was to be a quiet oasis of calm. It's a collection of older buildings that had bee saved from demolition and converted into a lovely little hotel centered around a series of small courtyards and gardens and typified by large rooms and blissful quiet. It would be an excellent spot for families, and indeed there were several there, but also an excellent base from which to explore two of our key sites: the Li River and the Longsheng Rice Terrace (aka the Dragon's Backbone).

The Li River tour we did, from Yangdi to Xiping, was not as long as the Guilin-to-Yangshuo tour we'd initially intended to go on, but the timing of the latter made doing it on the first day impossible. And the tour we did do was quite spectacular. That area of China is dotted with, and typified by, Karst Spires, large rocky outcroppings hundreds of metres tall, topped generally in a rounded summit. Primarily composed of white rock (presumably limestone), these are lush with lively green foliage and as such resemble naught so much as the towering peaks in the movie Avatar. Coupled with the mist that was present (high temperatures and higher humidity), these peaks had a truly primordial feel to them; one half expected to see pterodactyls circling their summits.







The river tour was on a bamboo raft, composed on long, thick stalks of bamboo curved to the front to form a prow and topped with benches and an awning. They were incredibly slow and somewhat loud, being powered by a tiny two-stroke diesel outboard motor. But the resulting experience was sublime-we drifted downstream, admiring the Karst spires and relaxing in the steamy environs of the waterway, waving to other boats, dozing at times, and generally allowing the stress incurred by life in Beijing to melt away. I also took far too many photos, as is my wont.

The tour lasted about two hours, after which we were collected by the driver to complete our journey to Yangshuo. It was along this portion of the drive that we first started to see the Karst spires and marvelled at their beauty. They continued along the remainder of our journey, when we pulled into the tiny village outside Yangshuo that contained our hostel (on the edge of a swampy field, across a perilous causeway).

The reason we selected this hotel was two-fold: firstly, it was a unique experience, given it was comprised of the historical buildings. Secondly, it was remote. We were both exhausted and needed some "down time", and this seemed the perfect opportunity to get it. Indeed, the first afternoon, from when we arrived, we did very little except shower, relax and eat at the in-house restaurant.
The next day, however, we rose early for one of our more physically active days: the Longsheng rice terraces. Considered to be one of the more beautiful terraced fields in China, this required a three-hour drive across Guanxi province, during which we got to listen to the driver's 10-song music mix on perpetual repeat. The drive and the bad pop/electronica were worth it, though: the rice terraces are beautiful.

Built into the side of a mountain range, the terraces are an answer to the question "how do I grow crops on an incline?". The answer is to build a series of flat fields up the entire slope-essentially creating a number of artificial plateus which can be used to grow crops. These plateaus are formed entirely of earth and are not hemmed in by stone walls, yet have lasted over 650 years so far, with no imminent signs of stopping. This remarkable achievement allows for the utilisation of land that would otherwise be nigh on impossible to use for crops. It also produces an amazing visual: nested fields cascading down vibrant valleys, many filled to overflowing with water for the growing of rice, giving the effect of a stack of green, yellow and mirrored-surfaces stacked neatly atop one another; a cascade of flora.
We lucked out on the weather that day, too. It was a bit overcast, but just misty enough to give some mystery and romance to the fields. We managed to hike through the paths for nearly four hours, traversing the entirety of the walking paths and again spending some time more or less on our own (a calming respite from the babbling tour groups we encountered at so many other destinations). Though these are active and productive fields, the paths designated for tourists are built into the whole area and allow you to bear witness to this unique and spectacular method of farming.

That evening, we got a ride into Yangshuo city itself to sample the nightlife. To be honest, it was a bit disappointing. Yangshuo itself is a big tourist destination, both for Chinese and Western tourists. As a result, it's big and brash but kind of cheesy and artificial. It's also very overpriced. We did have a lovely dinner at a restaurant in town, but found that the bars were so-so at best (and priced above their standing) and the nightclub we randomly selected turned out to do a partial strip-show partway through, which was not at all what we were looking for and-given that I was dragged on stage by the performer-made us both uncomfortable enough that we left immediately. It was not a fun evening, and made slightly worse by the street musicians/karaoke singers who would patrol the streets performing loudly and not with great skill, whether you wanted them to or not.

The next day we'd set aside to have a lie-in and then do not very much. And after the fatigue and stress of the previous weeks, it was glorious. We slept late, we wandered around the local area near the hotel and just generally did… not very much. In the evening, we went in to see a light show created by the director who'd orchestrated the Beijing Olympics' opening ceremony. The show itself was a bit trite or even dull in places, but quite visually striking in many parts and featured over 500 actors choreographed to music, lights and move, all done on the water of the Li River. There were moments in the show that were truly spectacular, including the procession of lighted individuals crossing the water and the illumination of the karst spires in glorious colour. 

It did, however, provide another example of a trend we noticed repeatedly over our trip: Chinese bureaucratic inefficiency and disorganisation. You see, one would think that the easiest way to do it would be to order your tickets from your hotel, collect them at the box office, then find your way to you designated seat. That, however, was not how it was done here. Instead, we ordered our tickets from the hotel, then met the agent with whom the hotel deals and stood around. For about 45 minutes, while she went into the box office three times to no avail. Finally, a piece of paper was secured which got us–and others who had evidently booked with the same agent–into the park where it took place. We then stood around there for awhile, while a second agent from the group went and collected the tickets (evidently the piece of paper was not the tickets, just something to let us into the arena are?). Tickets in hand, we were then directed into a third area to stand around. With about five minutes to go before the scheduled start time, and no indication of what was going on, there was suddenly a huge commotion. You see, instead of just allowing people to go to their seat, the organisers got all 3000 or so viewers to queue up in a giant open-air park thing then all rush in at once. People were all but sprinting for the gates, and it's a miracle nobody was trampled.

This seems to typify many bits of Chinese organisation we observed. There are far too many layers and people involved for no good reason. There are arbitrary and useless roadblocks and wait periods set up. And there's ultimately a huge sense of disorganisation and "hurry up and wait". You end up standing around for ages then having to rush like madmen in order to then stand around again. Combined with no reasonable sense of queueing (I do miss the rigid order of a British queue when I'm in Asia), the result is pure chaos. In every situation, I could easily spot a half-dozen simple changes that would have dramatically improved the situation.

Our time in Yangshuo, though fraught with a few disappointments, was ultimately both very rewarding and desperately needed. By the end of our time in Beijing, both Katy and I felt we were basically running on empty. Our last day, at the Temple of Heaven saw us both dutifully trekking around to the sights, but with no real verve or energy. We'd pushed ourselves hard to see and do as much as we could, and it had finally caught up to us. To have the chance to relax, in a verdent, green and relaxing setting, to sleep in and spend some time with each other and not as much to do, was a much-needed and thoroughly enjoyable experience.

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China Trip 2014: The Great Wall at Simatai and the Eeriness of Faketown

Amongst the stereotypical and easily-brought-to-mind images of China, few are as forthcoming as The Great Wall. This testament to defense and construction is mistakenly believed to be the only man-made structure viewable from space and is the primary reason that China is not currently a province of Mongolia (note: I'm not a historian, so that last statement might be complete malarky). If you are planning your first-ever trip to China does not include some time to see the Great Wall, I am completely baffled.

There are numerous locations to see this masterpiece of masonry. Most infamous is Badaling, which by dint of its proximity to Beijing is frequented by hundreds, if not thousands, of tourists a day. It's a great place to go if you want an easy commute and photos with scores of strangers in the background (while being hassled to buy innumerable trinkets and tourist crap). We settled instead on Simatai, based both on the Lonely Planet I'd bought, and the advice of a colleague whose wife is Chinese and who has consequently travelled to China many times. Simatai is the starting point (or ending point if you fancy) of a 7km hike along the wall (one of the longer treks you can make uninterrupted) ending at Jinshanling. In addition, it is also one of the "rougher" sections of the wall-more prone to steep inclines and crumbling portions that evoke the true sense of the Wall more than the rebuilt, clean-and-idealised portions seen elsewhere. In addition, the scenery is rather breathtaking-dry yet verdant mountains abound and the Wall snakes up and down amongst them, wending its way through the peaks and valleys into the murky, hazy distance.

We had been warned that this was likely to be a rather strenuous trek, so were well kitted out with water, hiking boots and a packed lunch. We had hired a driver for the day who would kindly wait for us while we hiked and drive us home. When we asked about doing the Simatai-to-Jinshanling trek, we were told that the road was down between the two, so we had to choose. I have to admit, this didn't make much sense-surely if the main road was down, you coud just route around it? The two points were only 7km of hiking apart: undoubtedly, a car could get to the end faster, even if it had to take a different and more roundabout route, right? Apparently not, so we selected Simatai as our go-to, and set off.

It turns out, there was a slight mis-translation, which we would discover only when we made it onto the Wall itself, after a hike through Fake-Town (I'll get to that shortly), and a scenic cable-car up the hill. It wasn't that the road between the two points was down, it's that the path along the Great Wall was. Indeed, there was a large section of the Wall which was effectively completely collapsed and awaiting repair and was wholly intraversible in the meantime. This at least made more sense. Without being able to cross the section of river spanned by the collapsed portion, there was simply no way to get to Jinshanling. Unfortunately, this meant we were confined to a section of Wall about 1.25km long, or possibly even shorter.

Fortunately, it was a breathtakingly beautiful section. We were graced by stunningly sunny weather, marred only slightly by the high heat and the smoggy haze which pervades all areas around Beijing. And the section around Simatai is incredible. Steep inclines are the norm, some of the steps causing significant trepidation, as well as the excellent calf workout we were inclined to expect. Though portions of the Wall have been repaired, many of the guard towers are crumbling and some sections of the Wall itself are rather dilapidated. This gives it an air of authenticity that is wonderful to experience. Moreover, the views are amazing. Because of the steep inclines, you can see the Wall disappearing into the distance in both directions. So you are able to see the countless peaks surrounding the area and the Wall itself snaking amongst them, fading into the haze in the distance. It's quite an experience.

There's something about actually being on the Great Wall that is very different than just seeing pictures or reading about it. You can look into the history, read the stats and plan a trip. But when you're actually present on the wall, it's almost hard to believe it's real. The scope and grandeur inherent in its existence is evocative. You can almost imagine the frustration and bafflement of the Mongol hordes who were repelled by it and the mixture of anger and respect it must have engendered in the attacking armies. To have constructed something of this scale using the methods and tools of the day is a testament to perseverance, truly lofty goals and a relentless and ruthless quest for self-preservation. To read about the Wall is to be staggered by the numbers and facts; to stand upon its length is to be awed and humbled at what humanity can achieve.

Of course, as truly awesome as the Wall was–and as indicative of the capabilities of the ancient Chinese–the area surrounding it, which we named Fake-Town, was equally representative of modern China, or at least my stereotype of it. You see, surrounding the Simatai area of the Great Wall is a town. Comprised of classically-styled Chinese buildings, bridges and canals, this town is actually pretty substantial in size. It took us about 45 minutes, possibly more, to walk through and included a huge town-square complete with theatre. This significant residential area is a lovely example of Chinese living, nestled securely under the towering Great Wall, no doubt sheltering its residents from invading forces. This town did not exist four years ago, and it sits eerie and mostly empty at the moment.
As near as I can tell, the goal is to make Simatai an attraction closer in popularity to Badaling, presumably to drive up tourism revenue. However, rather than preserve the rustic, challenging nature of the wall and instead increase the frequency of buses to the site, for example, the Chinese have built a completely artificial town, Disneyland-style, to act as its own attraction, and have forced all visitor to the Wall to walk through it to get there. Fake-town is the height of surreal: it looks like a regular, run-of-the-mill town, with labyrinthine streets, interconnected canals and numerous shops, but the vast majority are empty shells of buildings, without even plumbing or electricity, as far as we could see. It's a veneer of living with nothing behind it.

And the weirdest part? All the Chinese tourists LOVED IT. People were stopping left, right and centre to pose for countless photos of Fake-Town. They'd pose next to doors, on bridges, against walls and down alleyways. Keep in mind, there is exaclty ZERO historical significance to this place. Sure, it architecturally resembles classic Chinese building styles, down to the carved wooden windows and sloping roofs. But it is, in matter of fact, pure artifice, created to engender a sense of history and presence where there is none. It's no different than the "Main Street USA" section of Disneyworld, only it happens to surround one of the greatest engineering achievements in human history (which is also one of the seven wonders of the ancient world). So the fact that there were far more people in Fake-Town than on the wall, indicating very clearly that a great many came just to see the spooky town devoid of life and authenticity, is a best a bit odd and an interesting statement on the human condition, and at worst downright depressing and condemning of Chinese tourism and the malleability and gullibility of our beliefs in history.

The weirdness of Fake-Town aside, I'm glad we go to see a section of the wall that so closely resembles its true self and its former glory. It was definitely challenging the climb that section of the wall, but there's a stark beauty to the crumbling edifice. And the sight of the wall extending into the infinite distance is something that everyone should experience. It's a shame that we were unable to complete the full length of the Simatai-to-Jinshanling hike, but I'm glad we did the bit we did. It's hard to imagine a trip to China, or at least a first-ever trip, as complete without a trip to the Wall. To do it in a rough-and-ready, yet largely quiet and serene section was absolutely the right choice for us.y1tu
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China Trip 2014: Peking In On Our Travel Plans

Beijing: the forbidden city, the Great Hall of the People, Tiananmen Square, the Temple of Heaven and Peking Duck. This is what we had in mind. Of course, we are also aware and wary of some of the notorious downsides: the crush of people, oppressive air pollution, and the risks of being swindled and ripped off that come with any major city. But all in all, we had high hopes for Beijing: where Shanghai is ultra-modern and forever coloured by western influences and a history of colonisation, Beijing was to be a truer glance into the real China experience.

We'd elected to take the bullet train to Beijing instead of flying, both for comfort and convenience, as well as for the experience itself. I love high-speed rail and we both enjoy the chance to see the scenery as we speed across the country on polished rails at a brisk 300kph. The scenery, however, wasn't exactly verdent green fields and pastoral life; instead it was new cities comprised of dozens of identical sky-scraper apartment blocks seemingly thrust up from the ground fully complete and awaiting an influx of humanity. It was new highways and infrastructure. And, of course, dozens of factories producing the concrete to make all this possible. The other downside was a trend we would notice throughout our travels: Chinese people (if you'll excuse the generalistion) are very loud. When they speak to each other in person they seem to be shouting; on the phone it's even worse. Oddly, it only seems to happen when they're speaking Chinese. We would see people change from high-decibel Chinese to normal-conversational-level English in adjoining sentences. Added to this is the fact that there seems to be very little taboo about playing music or videos or games on your phone without using headphones. The two men next to us on the train to Beijing spent all five hours playing videos and slot machine games on their tablets, every sound blasting out through the built-in speakers. It did not make for the most restful journey.

The hostel we selected for this leg was the Happy Dragon hostel, chosen from HostelWorld, one of my go-to websites for cheap accommodation. In this instance, it was not a great choice, for two reasons. First, the bed. The double bed we'd selected was in fact two single beds pushed together, with a nice solid wooden bar smack down the middle. The mattresses also appeared to be made out of some form of sheetrock. Comfort, it turns out, was not a high priority. The second issue was one which would emerge as one of the constant features we would notice in our time in China: perpetual construction and perpetual noise. We have yet to visit anywhere in China where there isn't a significant quantity of construction going on at all times, but our Beijing Hostel was a particularly egregious example: the building directly across the street was being torn down or extensively renovated or something, which required heavy and loud construction to occur starting at 4AM, complete with Chinese workers yelling at each other at all times, continuing the trend of needlessly-high-volume speech. The construction also added a layer of dust that pervades the city and dirties every surface.

Lest you think our Beijing experience was wholly negative, let me delve into some of the positives that we found during our time there. The hostel, though loud and equipped with terrible beds, was in a very interesting area of town: the Hutong area. These interconnected alleyways are a glimpse into the more traditional Beijing living, before the skyscrapers and mega-malls became the norm. Our first day, we wandered down a series of hutongs, and were amazed at the differences: one could be nearly silent and wholly residential, the next could be practically pulsing with activity and energy, thronged with young people and shops. We selected a middle-ground: a fairly quiet hutong, but one with some nice cafés, and most excitingly for Katy, a cat café where we could set, pat the kitties, and watch the world go by. A lovely rest after a fairly hectic travel day. We followed this up with an excellent dinner with Frank, a chap from Katy's course, and Frank's wife. This gave us the chance to eat at a wonderful restaurant we'd have never discovered otherwise.

On the successive days, we hit many of the highlights we most wanted to see. The Summer Palace, a sprawling, beautiful park centered around a lake and dotted with temples, outdoor hallways, bridges and walking paths is a wonderful and surprisingly tranquil escape from the city, at least when it's not mobbed with innumerable Chinese tourists shouting into their phones and photographing anything that will sit still for five seconds. The drum and bell towers require a steep ascent up rather perilous flights of stairs, but provide excellent views across Beijing (and the drum ceremony is deafening and incredible). The Tibetan Buddhist Lama temple has a certain peacefulness despite the crowds and is jammed full of art, icons and ceremonial items from a fascinating tradition. And the Temple of Heaven, an expansive park nestled into the centre of Beijing is a beautiful, if repetitive at times, park clustered around a handful of artistic, elegant temples and greenspace. So we had some truly lovely experiences.

Sadly, we missed out on one of our biggest to-dos: the Forbidden City. Arguably the main attraction in Beijing, we had dearly wanted to see it, but were stymied on two occasions: once due to us moving slowly in the morning, being confronted by swarms of people and an inability to find breakfast (making us both feel murderous rage to the swarms of people and deciding that we should eat and go to the Summer Palace instead). Secondly because it was inexplicably closed on the day we tried to go. It turns out that while normally the Forbidden City is open every day (hence the guidebooks and websites giving us no indication it wouldn't be), it's closed on Mondays for the first half of this year, for renovations. So unfortunately, we didn't get a chance to see this rather remarkable place; something for the next trip, perhaps.

We did make it to the Great Wall, however (at Simatai), though I am going to detail that in its own blog post.

The food we had in Beijing was lovely overall. Most famous, of course, is the Beijing Duck. A delicate and flavourful dish that involves a rather elaborate cooking and serving ceremony, this dish lives up to its billing. We actually ate it three times over the course of our stay, and each time was slightly different, but always succulent. We also went twice to Mali Mali hotpot, a (mostly) Sichuan hotpot place that was so entertained by our visit that they insisted on taking pictures for what appeared to be their "Wall of non-Chinese diners". Numerous other little meals of dumplings, beef and chicken always were tasty and varied, and it's safe to say that the food was definitely a high point, even though I never quite worked up the courage to try the fried scorpions or silk worms on offer from some of the street vendors.

We also had an excellent experience that occurred-as many of the best memories do-through pure happenstance. On our final night in Beijing, we'd booked into the bests-reviewed Beijing Duck restaurant in the Lonely Planet (considered to be one of the better-known and better-respected duck restaurants in the city). Katy and I were meeting another friend of hers from her course who'd elected to do a few days in Beijing before flying home. But we arrived a little bit early, so set off in search of a few beers and a place to sit. In the end, we settled on a tiny, grubby little diner/convenience store/bar hybrid, clearly frequented solely by locals, which sold us the cheapest beers of our entire trip (about 55p for a 600mL bottle). We sat out on the terrace to relax and drink, and soon a dish arrived, sent by the next table. One of the chaps there spoke English, and explained that the vegetable dish he'd sent over was a local Beijing vegetable delicacy, available only for a week or two per year. It was delicious, though we never knew what it was (he said it was from a tree of some sort, we suspect it might have been young, tender bamboo shoots). We ended up chatting with the guys and sharing beers until Katy's friend arrived and we headed to our duck, then joining them for one more round after the meal. It was a fun little slice of local life.

Overall, I wasn't as impressed with Beijing as I'd expected to be, and Katy wasn't blown away either. There were some definite highlights-the Summer Palace is amazing and the areas where the Chinese tour groups don't venture are rather tranquil. The morning market (food and clothing primarily) outside our hostel was a frenetic bustle of energy and semi-organised chaos that was fun to see. And there still is a sense of recent history in the Hutongs, and some beauty in the Temple of Heaven, the temples and the old towers. However, the omnipresent dust and noise that belie the perpetual construction are overwhelming, the throngs of shouting, pushy, inconsiderate people (many of whom clear their throats loudly and spit openly wherever they are) and the general sense of disorganisation and inefficieny are maddening. We certainly enjoyed our time, and enjoyed specific aspects greatly. But it didn't quite live up to our hopes for a view of "Real China". Perhaps our view of modern China was just skewed.

China Trip 2014: I've been Shanghaied!

So, another year, another big trip to Asia. It hadn't been my intent to come back to the Far East so soon. As much as I loved Vietnam and Malaysia in 2010 and my trip with Shane last year (for which I will eventually finish the blog posts), it had meant that my last two major trips had been to Asia. Katy and I had discussed where we'd wanted to go, and Ethiopia was actually the fore-runner. But then Katy got on a training course with her work that involved a week in Shanghai and the opportunity for use both to fly for the cost of her flights alone was too tempting to pass up. So, China it was!

We flew separately, because her course would go for a week before we'd meet up and start our travels. In addition, her company was generous enough to fly her Virgin Atlantic business class; my personal budget was more in the range of "whatever is cheapest on Kayak", which turned out to be a FinnAir flight with a sixteen and a half-hour layover in Helsinki. This sounds like a terrible option, but actually was OK: the stopover was long enough that I got a hostel room for the night, wandered around a rainy Helsinki for a few hours, had some brunch and pottered off back to the airport. Helsinki seems really lovely, and it was a Saturday night and the nightlife seemed really interesting as well; I have bookmarked it as a city to visit again some day.

My outbound flight landed me in Shanghai at about 7:00 in the morning on Monday, after one of the worst flight I've ever had, trapped smack in the middle of a three-family travel group with seven children aged about four through eight. The child next to me, notably, had an amazing ability to spend all flight flailing around and elbowing me in the side every ten minutes. I was also two rows in front of two toddlers, which didn't make things any easier. So I was pretty tired for most of my first day, but determined to soldier on so as not to get badly time-shifted.

I would spend the first two days on my own before meeting Katy, so I tried to cram in as many sights and to-dos as I could, especially ones she'd done before her course started or that I knew wouldn't interest her. So I did a walk along the Bund, the area that abuts the river on the west side and overlooks the stunning ultra-modern business district with its iconic and dominating skyline. I have a deep love of cool modern skyscrapers, so really loved the view, despite the greyness of the day. To me, this skyline alone defines much of the reality of modern China: precious little of it existed as recently as 35 years ago. If you do a Google image search for "Shanghai then and now", you will see the difference and it is striking; surpassed only by the transformation Dubai has undergone in even less time. China's growth, truly is rampant. With the largest population in the world and the second-largest economy, China has embraced growth and capitalism with a fervour you rarely see in communists. Pudong, the business district of Shanghai, is hugely emblematic of this; growth from nothing into one of the world's premier centres of finance in a few decades, shining glass monoliths scraping the sky with more being built, but very little sense of history; everything old being relegated to the far side of the river, isolating the old from the new (and progressively bulldozing the old to make room for more of the new).

In addition to the Bund, I had a stroll through a portion of the more-traditional Old Town on my way to the Yuyuan gardens and bazaar. The gardens are a lovely, labyrinthine warren of cultivated trees, traditional buildings and stonework interspersed with bridges, archways and flowers throughout. Thronged with tourists, yet still somewhat peaceful. Walled off from the surrounding areas, this presents a rare glimpse into a sense of yesteryear, albeit a cultivated view originally designed for royalty. The bazaar which surrounds it is a frenetic, bustling warren of shops and restaurants, even more thoroughly thronged with tourists and those who capitalise on them. I am very certain, that had I wished to do so, I could have furnished an entire army with fake Rolexes and handbags.

After getting my fill of the gardens and bazaar, I decided that the soup dumplings I had (much of which ended up on my trouser legs) wasn't nearly enough to sustain me for the day and headed to a Sichuan restaurant for some food. Those who know me well will know of my affinity for spicy food; Sichuan was one of the cuisines I was really looking forward to. And though it wasn't as spicy as I'd anticipated, the chill poached frog certainly was redolent with the numbing effect of the Sichuan pepper. The meat was tender and juicy, though quite a lot of work to eat around the numerous bones.

From there, it was a short walk to People's Square and the Urban Planning Hall, to see the future of Shanghai as the planners dream for it to be. The display was rather interesting, notably the model of the forecast of Shanghai circa 2020, but by this point my long days of travel were starting to catch up to me, so I fear I might not have had quite the learning experience I might have hoped for. I headed back to the hostel to check in properly (I'd gone in the morning just to drop my main bag) and lie down to rest up a little bit. 

In the hostel, I ended up meeting and chatting with a few folk also on their travels, and we decided to go out in the evening to take in the views from the WFC, the World Finance Centre, the current tallest building in Shanghai (soon to be supplanted by the creatively-named Shanghai Tower, which is nearing completion). The WFC has viewing galleries at the 94th, 97th and 100th floor; the latter is by far the best, as the lights are turned off throughout the floor, allowing for an amazing view of the city around you. We'd gotten up there with only 20 minutes to spare before the lights turned off; it is interesting to me how many of the city centre's lights are extinguished at night, from 10:00PM onwards. The city genuinely goes quite dark, which stands in rather stark comparison to London, Tokyo, Hong Kong, etc. which are lit up with the brilliance of thousands of neon tubes and bulbs at all hours.

The next day was a more relaxed one. With my compatriots from the hostel, we walked around the Old Town and took in the sights of both more-traditional Chinese living, a more traditional tea house, and some rather run-down, even derelict neighbourhoods that still possessed a certain desolate beauty and intrigue. We then took a cheap cab to the French concession, had a few beers on a nearly-empty roof terrace bar (as you do), and I was finally able to make contact with Katy, and made plans to meet her and her coursemates in Tianzifang, a network of alleys-cum0restaurants and shops, largely aimed at tourists, but not too outlandishly expensive. We had some beers, some food and ended up heading back to Katy's hotel to finish off the night with a few more drinks with her coursemates to allow her to say farewell to those she'd gotten to know rather well in a seemingly very intense week.

And with that, Katy's and my vacation has begun. We were both pretty exhausted, so our day was a relaxed wander. We had some brunch, then went to a tailor where Katy had had some clothes made and needed a few alterations. We took a motorcycle cab to Xiantandi, basically a posh, upscale pedestrianised area, for some beers and food then strolled over to Tianzifang for some dinner (Balinese food). Then an early night at the hostel.

I'm writing this now from our 300kph train en route to Beijing. We have passed further signs of China's voracious growth on our journey: innumerable concrete factories, vast quarries stripped to their core, row after row of brand-new high-rise apartment buildings, many still clad in the wrapping-paper-esque facades of construction netting. Many of these places are seemingly in the middle of nowhere, far removed from the dual centres of Shanghai and Beijing, yet they are seemingly designed to hold millions of individuals. Growth of this sort seems to only go one of two ways: massive, enduring prosperity, or overspending and inevitable collapse. China is the country to watch in the next two decades. For all the bureaucratic inefficiencies and political intransigence, there is a hunger to the nation and its companies that seems to have faded in the west; it's going to be an interesting journey.

Another interesting thing to note: I'm posting this blog entry by emailing it to my father. Because my blog is banned in China as a result of using Google's platform. Though Google's search engine is available in a heavily-censored form, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and much more is also completely filtered without some significant technical workarounds (VPNs and the like). It's fascinating to me to think that this pinnacle of modern commerce, this most significant of trading partners can so heavily work against the most fundamental principles of freedom of speech and association. The power of its economy is great, though, and while I would dearly love to see true liberty come to this area, I suspect that the economic might and the inability of the west to extricate itself from the incomprehensibly large trade with China will render the debate moot. Simply put, China can afford to maintain an open affront to western values of freedom of speech and self-actualisation on this scale because without them, our economies would implode.

More posts to come. Next up: Beijing and the Great Wall!

Asia Trip 2013: Philippines: Volcanos and Old Cities and Hats, Oh My!

For awhile, we were the hat brigade. Or the hat posse, I can't remember. But the point is, there were hats involved. I, obviously, travelled with my goofy straw cowboy hat (how could I not?); Shane didn't but when we went out, we, and the people we joined up with for awhile, borrowed hats. You see, in the Philippines, we stayed in a youth hostel; a new experience for Shane, old hat for me (see what I did there?)

I'm actually a big fan of hostel. I know they have a reputation for being cheap, dirty, run-down and rowdy and I've definitely been to a few that are all of those things at the same time. But sometimes, they are so much more. Sometimes they are an opportunity to meet fellow travellers; road-weary yet excited, sunburned and passionate and ready for the next adventure. The hostel we stayed in in Manila was like that-it had a well-equipped common room (cold drinks, couches and a table, some food and internet access). We were in the more upscale area of Manila called Makati, having been warned that Malate, another frequent backpacker destination, was rather… insalubrious. And meet people we did-Irish, British, Spanish, American and Dutch–hostels attract all kinds.
And we wandered with them. We learned about how to ride the Jeepneys, where the good food joints were, and when they wanted to go on the walking tour of Intramuros (the historically-Spanish part of the city), we joined them, as it was high on our itinerary as well. We'd heard glowing review of Carlos Celdran's walking tour and wanted to learn about the country and its history.So we borrowed hats from the hotel and made our way into the somewhat dilapitated area of Intramuros. I can't do Carlos' tour justice, except to say that if you go to Manila and don't go on the tour, you are missing out. He is funny, animated and passionate, knowledgeable about Manila, the Philippines and history and the tour is both wide-ranging and entertaining. A must-see, Carlos details the rather storied history of the Philippines with verve, humour and a series of rather pantomime actions. Also included is a horse-drawn buggy ride through the city centre, a walk through a beautiful church and a sampling of Halo-halo, the national dessert.

The other highlight of the Manila trip was Taal; a small volcano in the souther area of the main island. Taal emerged from an inland lake, erupted and formed a crater with a small island in its centre. This particular island, therefore, is an island in a lake in an island in a lake in an island in the ocean. Just call it isleception. The trip to Taal was something Shane and I had hoped to do, but thought we'd run out of time. Instead, going along with another group of hostellers, we decided to chance it on our last day back. Another rather entertaining journey-jeepney to the metro, metro to another jeepney, to a mall to catch the bus, and then a motorcycle taxi with sidecar (requiring intense haggling to get a decent price) to the boat to the volcanic crater island. Taal itself is rather small but very beautiful. The hike isn't too hard on its own, but the sweltering heat (38 degrees and 100% humidity give or take, more on the mountain itself, since it is, in fact a volcano) made it sweaty work. But the view at the top and the sense of achievement made it all the more worthwhile. The splendor and tranquility of the surrounding land and water-even through the murky heat of the intense summer day-spread out before us in a grand vista and we enjoyed a cold and refreshing drink or four with the guys we'd met at the hostel. Then I hit a golf ball into the crater lake, because that was too entertaining an opportunity to miss!

The trip back back provided one of those weird happenstance things that you could never plan, but which provides a great story. It starts with the only time I felt like I was being ripped off as a tourist in the Philippines. Remember those motorcycle sidecar taxis from the ride down? Well, it turns out that when you are stranded far from the town and have no other way to get back, the price goes up. Way up. Far more than we were willing to pay, on principle alone. We tried a number of different drivers, to no avail (each one we said no to would shout to his compatriots to ddeny us a better deal). In the end, one of our group spotted a large van with government markings. Speaking to the driver (a member of the provincial council), she explained our predicament and offered to give him some cash to get us to the bus stop. He accepted and we crammed into the back of the van, five people in seats made for about three and pottered off down the road to a different town, but one with better bus access. Despite my fears, the man and his wife were not serial killers, but instead were incredibly lovely, chatty people. We told them of our trip and how much we'd loved the Filipino people and the food and how we were sad to be moving on, but our next stop was Thailand. As we approached the town, traffic began to swell and I began to sweat: with a three-hour drive ahead of us, and our plane taking off in six hours, it was getting close. THe minutes ticked by as we inched forward painfully slowly, finally arriving at the street where we would catch the bus, only to spot the bus preparing to depart! A mad, and unsafe dash across the road and I blocked its exit until my companions could join me and we took of for a blissfully air conditioned and surprisingly fast journey to Manila (turns out the streets are packed with cars but the motorways empty). In the overcrowded Manila streets, the feeling of being stuck in thick molasses returned and we jumped out (because walking would be faster than the bus was able to go).. A jeepney ride and a lot of half-walking-half-jogging later, and Shane and I made it to the hostel, loaded our bags into a cab and made for the airport! We made it on time, spent our last pesos on some pre-flight food and boarded our flight to Thailand.

I was left with a warm and positive view of the Philippines. It reminded me strongly of the time I've spent in Cuba: there is some poverty and deriliction, certainly. And environmental standards aren't the most stringent in the world. But there is a genuine warmth and caring amongst the people driven not from a callous desire for tourist dollars, but seemingly from an enjoyment of life and of people. The muggy, tropical environment, too often battered by storms and tsunamis has bred in a resilience and adaptability that is truly remarkable. Of all the places I've travelled in my life, Manila sits in the rareified air of one of the ones I could really see myself living in. It's not the most prim and polished, nor the most modern and wealthy, but it feels like a place with real opportunity around every corner and smiles in every door.

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Asia Trip 2013: The Philippines Part 1: No Baboy!

"No baboy!"

That was the one key phrase Shane and I learned in Tagalog, one of the more predominant languages in thePhilippines (there are apparently 175 languages spoken in the Philippines, though a meagre 171 are still actively spoken). "No baboy" means "no pork", or at least close enough-"baboy" means pork anyway. In the worst case scenario, I just pushed my nose up into a pig snout and made snorting noises, then shook my head and made the universal "no" gesture of crossing it out with my hands.

We had to learn this phrase because my travel companion, Shane, one of my best mates in the world, is Muslim and doesn't eat pork, and that is a pretty major part of the Filipino diet. We had to be on our toes. In the end though, it wasn't that much of a limitation; despite the fairly limited reputation and knowledge of Filipino food around the world, it was almost without exception wonderful.

The Philippines was the first stop on our trek that we would do together, though I'd spent a day in Hong Kong before meeting Shane-I'll write about that later, and hopefully it won't take six months this time! We actually met in the Hong Kong airport and caught what must have been one of the cheapest flights I've ever taken, RyanAir included. Our flight was somewhat delayed by poor weather. At first I thought the weather wasn't that bad, then a deafening bolt of lightning struck the tarmac outside the airport window about 10 metres from the plane we were waiting for. I suddenly was much happier to wait.

As a result, we didn't touch down in Manila until the afternoon. After dodging the over-priced cabs that prey on unwary tourists with sky-high rates, we wended our way into the hostel where we'd spend the next four days, taking in the sights of Manila en route.

My expectations had been rather modest, if I'm honest. The Philippines had been an afterthough, added to to trip only once we'd stumbled across the Cebu Pacific flights and realised we could add a whole new country to our list for a palty £35 or so. Furthermore, one of my other closest friends had spent time in Manila on business and rated it as one of the worst place he'd visited. On the flip side, I had a friend from undergrad of Filipino descent who provided a detailed list of food, sight-seeing and travel suggestions, and it sounded great based on that. So, off we went, and for our second-longest city, no less.

I'm glad we did. Though the first impression of Manila isn't the most glowing-corrugated metal slums greet you near the airport and the city is one of the smoggiest I've visited (though I'm going to Beijing this spring, so there may soon be a new champion!). We were staying in the slightly-more-upmarket area of Makati rather than the somewhat insalubrious malate, so the buildings and and roads were in good shape, but the overwhelming initial sense was one of pure, unfiltered bedlam. Cars cram into every niche that could even remotely be considered a road, people walk on and off the sidewalk in throngs and the ubiqitous Jeepneys weave throughout with a grace that belies their rather significant bulk. It's also hot on a level you never experience in Britain, and rarely ever in Canada. All this combines to create a hot mess of smog, choas and good-natured jostling throughout.

But all that would provide a backdrop to one of the most interesting countries I've been to, and a truly varied and rewarding travelling experience. Underneath the anarchy of the street scenes, and despite the often stark and depressing poverty is true verve. The Jeepneys, refashioned and home-modified jeeps abandoned by the Americans after World War Two bristle with ornamentation in a gaudy yet exuberant, overwhelming yet inexplicably charming display. Festooned with lights, colours, hand-painted murals and other ornamentation, they are a goofy party on wheels, in nearly every way the opposite of the staid black cabs that rule London's streets. Oh, and they cost about 30-40p to ride, and work on the honour system: pass your money forward to the driver via the intervening passengers and they will pass change back. Everybody pays despite the lack of monitoring, and change is always returned.

And therein lies the most striking aspect of our visit to the Philippines: the people. I've travelled to many locations around the world, and am always fascinated by the reaciton to tourists. In many cases, there's an undercurrent of either antipathy or opportunism. Foreign visitors, especially in poorer countries are often resented for arriving flush with cash, disregarding local customs and norms, often getting outrageously and inappropriately drunk and generally showing a wonton disregard for the people in that country. In other instances, foreigners can be seen as walking cash bags, just waiting to be conned into one scam or another, triple-charged for every item and otherwise fleeced for everything they're worth. Still other times, tourists might as well be ghosts for how much they are virtually ignored by the local populace.

In the Philippines, none of these options was true. Basically everywhere we went, whether it was just Shane and I or a larger group, we were greeted with genuine and welcoming smiles. Everyone from the security guard at a fast-food chain to waiters to cabbies seemed honestly and wholeheartedly happy to meet new people, to serve and to talk. I've witnessed this sort of warm welcome before, notably in Cuba, and it always encourages me to see it. Almost never did I get a sense that we were being taken advantage of (the tourist-trap taxis at the airport notwithstanding). Instead, I felt a real sense of excitement and compassion.

This post is going on rather long, so I'm going to split it into multiple parts, lest I scare off whatever intrepid readers have made it this far. Next up, what we actually did: the walking tour of Intramuros, hiking up a volcanic crater (and hitchhiking back into town), and partying with the £1.75 full-size bottles of whiskey.

 

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Asia Trip 2013: The Trip in Numbers

So, as many of you reading this blog are likely to know, I recently went on a trip to south-east Asia with one of my best friends in the world, Shane. There's a lot to reflect on, so I'm going to write a few posts about it, but I wanted to start with the most basic and the most nerdy: the trip in numbers. Stats, figures, sums. So here are the key facts and figures. All of them are for me; Shane's will vary somewhat (e.g. he flew direct from Toronto, so his number of airports and list thereof is different).

Total Days: 20, including flight days.
Countries Visited: 5 (Hong Kong, Philippines, Thailand, South Korea, Japan)
Cities Visited: 8 (Hong Kong, Manila, Tagaytay, Bangkok, Seoul, Tokyo, Kyoto, Hiroshima)
Airports: 8 (Gatwick, Beijing [for a transfer], Hong Kong, Manila, Bangkok, Seoul Incheon, Tokyo Narita, Tokyo Haneda)
Hotels, Guesthouses and Hostels Stayed In: 8 (two different ones in Hong Kong, two different ones in Tokyo, one each in Bangkok, Seoul, Kyoto and Manila).
Total Kilometers Flown: 31645 (estimated by FreeMapTools)
Photos and Videos Taken on Primary Camera: 2008 (with a fair few more on our phones). These are just the ones we kept.
Bits of Electronic Kit Brought: 6 (iPad, iPhone, Kindle, Camera, Two X-Mini II speakers)
Bits of Electronic Kit Lost/Stolen/Broken: 1 (Kindle screen broke in Japan)
Bits of Electric Kit Brought: 5 (Universal plug adapter, 4-plug extension lead, iPad charger, multi-port USB charger, camera charger)
Electronic Cables Brought: 4 (Mini USB cable, Micro USB cable, 2 dock connector cables)
Electronic Cables Broken: 1 (one of the dock connector cables gave out-solder came lose on the USB side)
Electronic Gadgets and Cables Bought: (Two 3-in-1 charging cables, one memory stick, a wireless keyboard/mouse combo
Shirts Bought: 4 (in Hong Kong, tailored)
Other Things Bought: 5 (One Kyocera ceramic knife, one non-stick small saucepan, one silicon flipper to use with the saucepan, one pretty wooden flower vase as a gift for my girlfriend, one iPad case in fake wood as a gift for my girlfriend).
Volcanos Hiked Up: 1 (Taal, in the Philippines)
Nights We Went Clubbing: 6 (once in Manila, once in Seoul, three times in Tokyo, once in Hong Kong)
Nights We Did Karaoke: 1 (Manila at a fellow hostel-mate's request for her birthday. I wanted to try it in Tokyo, but they take it so seriously I didn't dare)
£1.75 Bottles Of Whiskey Drunk: 2 (on two nights, shared with others). Both in the Philippines.
Beers Drunk in One Hour of All-You-Can-Drink: 6 (I think)
Bullet Train Rides: 4 (Tokyo to Kyoto, Kyoto to Hiroshima and the return for each)
Taxi Rides: 10
Jeepney Rides: 8 (I think)
Metro/Subway Rides: Lots
Maximum Steps Walked In One Day: 41,000+ (according to Shane's pedometer)
Money Spent: £Just like, a lot
People Added to Facebook: 5

More posts to come about each place we went!

A Message to London Drivers

A funny thing happens to me when I cycle. I go completely Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I can be having the nicest, happiest, sunniest, positive day in the world. But the minute I kick my leg over that cross-bar, I will gut you like a fish should you dare make even the most minor of transgressions. It's a really weird road rage situation; I genuinely dislike the person I become, even if there is a weirdly compelling sense of freedom in such rage.

So I need to work on that. But there's a flipside to this. Because I know part of where the fury originates. There is a truly adversarial aspect to cycling in London. I suspect this is true of most major cities, but I would wager that the sheer number of cars and of cycles in London exacerbates the issue. There are bikes lane all over the place (which drivers often resent and periodically ignore) and a biking culture that ensures the streets are full of cycles. But the cars are also never-ending. So an animosity tends to build.

And there is one thing, above all else, that I'd like to ask of the drivers of London. One simple change I'd love to see that would lessen tensions and would feed into a wide-scale amelioration of the situation for the legion of cyclists who call this lovely city home. So I ask of the motorists: please, please, think about your choices. Don't run on auto-pilot. Drive consciously and deliberately and think about the implications of how you're driving.

I know this sounds obvious, but it happens less than you think. Driving is such a common-place occurrence that you do tune out; you know you shouldn't, but you do. And one of the principal manifestations of this, as it pertains to my daily cycle is the number of times that a motorist will zip out of a side-street, cut me off or change lanes directly into my space. Best case scenario, I slam on my brakes and waste my momentum. Worst case? Well, I'd rather not discuss the worst case, but it happens too often.

So, I'd like to propose the following: when you see a cyclist, or a pedestrian, or a rollerblader or a skateboarder coming down the street, err on the side of caution. I know it means taking time out of your day, but 19 times out of 20, the wait for me to clear the intersection or move past you so you can change lanes safely is measured in seconds. Even if the chance of hitting me is slim, please avoid if when the alternative is waiting an additional five seconds. I think that's fair.

I'm not laying all the blame for my road rage on the motorists on the road. I don't know why my switch is so thoroughly and reliably flipped when I'm on my bike. But I do know that I get really sick, really quickly, of having to slam on my brakes and skid to a halt, nearly rolling over some guy's hood, just so he doesn't have to slow down for the time it takes to say "good morning".

So, please: think and drive!

What now for this blog?

So, I've thought long and hard about what to do with this blog. I started it years and years ago, as just a way to ramble on and basically think/rant/philosophise out loud. I never expected much of anyone to read it, and my hit counter stats back that up pretty soundly. However, when Electra became ill, that changed. For the past two years, this blog was completely about Electra and her treatment, my views on it, prognoses and results. For all intents and purposes, this became my Electra & AML blog.

This served a few key purposes. For me, it was a form of catharsis, a way to get some things off my chest, and to help me get my head around what was going on. It brought me a sense of clarity to write about what was happening; putting the events and emotions into words helped me crystallise them. On a more pragmatic level, it was also a way for me to keep people-including friends and family-informed of what was going on so those who were far away could feel connected. It served these functions admirably, I feel, though obviously the time for that is now past. So, now what?

Since Electra's death, I've wondered about what to do with this blog that had started out as an infrequently-updated personal rambling space and had morphed into a singularly-focused site. As I saw it, there were a few main possibilities:

1. Close up the blog entirely. Leave it basically shrink-wrapped as a testament to what had happened and how I felt about what was happening.
2. Close it and delete it. Save backup copies of the writing for my own memories, but take it completely offline.
3. Return to a the pre-AML phase, posting as I felt like it, about whatever piece of whimsy floated into my head.

In the end, I have elected to go with the third option. I am aware that there may be a few more people following along than there were before, which may make me self-moderate a bit more than before, but I enjoy writing in this public forum and I'd like to continue to do so. I could start a new blog, but that seems like overkill to me. So I'm going to start transitioning this back to just being a "Dan's thoughts and ponderings" sort of place.

In parallel to this, I've begun working on a more serious blog, which I'm not yet ready to unveil, but hopefully will do soon. In this latter blog, I intend to write longer-form pieces, with more research and backing, about political, social, economic view and opinions.

This site, however, will stay more personal. I will probably still hit on politics and social issues from time to time, but it will be more of a "pub chat with mates" style than a researched and backed-up article. I will also periodically post things that are short, goofy, fun or whimsical. So if that sounds like something you're interested in, please follow along, via RSS, Facebook or Twitter (I'll try to post to the latter two when I do create a post). Word of warning, I'm highly unlikely to adhere to any form of reliable schedule with my posting here: it is far more likely to be sporadic and infrequent, but I'll do my best!

Electra & AML: One Year On

(See all posts related to Electra's ongoing treatment)

One year ago today, the world darkened a little bit as one of its beloved daughters was taken away. One year ago today, a final breath was drawn, final goodbyes were said and the end was reached for someone who should've had decades left before that moment. One year ago today friends, family and a boyfriend felt a profound loss. One year ago today, Electra quietly slipped away.

It has been a tumultuous year since then, as you can imagine. This experience has affected more people than I could count and in no doubt very different ways, but I hope that anyone reading this will excuse me for focusing on myself with this post; though I have some insight into how others are thinking and dealing with this loss, I can only truly speak for myself. And as this blog has been-to various extents-a form of catharsis for me, I want to reflect on that here.

The past year for me has been one of growth. I have been through myriad emotions and coping mechanisms: I was angry, I was depressed, I drank too much and flitted between partying and wallowing. I saw a therapist and talked with friends. I ate and drank and worked out. I bought crap I didn't need and spent many hours just thinking and reflecting, while spending an equal number just denying to myself and others that there was anything amiss. But I also loved and revelled. I spent time with friends and colleagues and started dating again. I reintegrated myself with London and its unique blend of vigor, frenetic energy and artistic and cultural variety. I started a new role at work, travelled to the Ukraine and started looking at where to travel to next.

And you know what? After 15 months of watching a loved one die; after months of struggling to come to terms with the unfairness of life and death; after the most trying and deflating and punishing year of my life, I'm actually in a pretty great place. I'm happy with where I am and where I'm going. I genuinely feel like I've come out the other side as a better person and am ready to take on life once again.

I did not get here alone. I have around me the best friends and family anyone could dream of. The outpouring of love and compassion I have felt is unparalleled. I have never wanted for a sympathetic ear or a distracting night at the pub (pro-tip: for all the complaints I periodically level at the British, my goodness do they get the pub right as a concept). I know that for much of this time, I wasn't a great friend: whether I was distraught or angry (at myself, the world or others) or just emotionally unavailable, I know that I wasn't always the best companion and for that I apologise. But the support never wavered for an instant. I got love and tenderness at the right times and a kick in the ass when I needed it. And I love you all for that.

So, where am I now? Well, I'm at the threshold to whatever comes next and-for a change-I'm pretty damn enthusiastic, optimistic and happy about that. I love where I live, I am busy pretty much all the time, I have no end of little projects I want to work on and things I want to do. But more than that, for possibly the first time in my life, I feel like I know what I want: I want to feel passion. I want to be excited, about the people in my life, about my job (ah, to dream the dream), about where I'm going next and what I'm doing next. That element has been missing for some time, but it's being rekindled. And for the first time, I actually feel pretty confident that I can achieve this, can get to where I want to be. I know it seems obvious, but to me that's huge. Paths feel open to me that I wouldn't have dreamed of before, and I finally feel like I know my priorities.

Electra is gone but never forgotten. She changed my life and my person for the better and I will always be thankful for that. But one year on, my life continues. I will pay her the best tribute I can imagine: to live my life fully and openly. To dream and strive and challenge myself. To work to better myself and my world and grasp at any opportunity I can. To fall in love again and make a meaningful life. Electra loved openly and wholeheartedly and it would do her memory a great disservice to not embrace that joie-de-vivre with my whole being. She was as interested in the world and its plethora of secrets, intricacies and contradictions as I am and this will be her legacy to me: a drive to always explore and to believe that I can. One of my favourite comic strips of all time is Calvin and Hobbes, which ended on one of the most beautiful strips I've ever seen:

One year ago today, Electra's last breath left her body and she lay still forever. But she has only died once. Banksy, the British street artist once said that you die twice: once when you stop breathing and once when someone says your name for the last time. I like that and by that measure, Electra still lives, as the Hobbes to my Calvin. She showed me the magic in the world, and will be with me as I explore it.