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.

Posted with Blogsy

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
'

Posted with Blogsy

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.

Posted with Blogsy

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.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Turkey

"No matter how rich and prosperous, a nation without independence, cannot be subject to any behaviour before the humanity, at a higher level than serving."
- Mustafa Kemal Atatürk

This past August, I was in Turkey, and I'm long overdue for a report on what went on and my thoughts on the whole shindig. It was an exciting and revelatory experience for me in many ways. Incidentally, sorry for this taking so long-pure laziness has made it so long overdue, the original writing date was last September. Sigh.

I was in Istanbul for the European Universities Debating Championship (EUDC) 2007 (Aug 5-11), hosted by Koç University. But since I'd never been to Turkey, and had heard nothing but positive comments about it, I extended my trip by about a week before and after, to allow for some travel. I was there from July 31-Aug 17.

I arrived in Istanbul with Dan and Hannah; we met Shannon at the airport, and Julia joined us a half-hour later, also at the airport. We cabbed it into our hostel in Sultanahmet, the most tourist-heavy section of Istanbul, and also the section with some of the most beautiful sites-The Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia and Grand Bazaar, to name but a few.

We spent the first day hitting the major tourist attractions, i.e. those noted above. I cannot emphasise enough how stunningly gorgeous the Blue Mosque (pictured below at night, from the rooftop bar in our youth hostel) and Hagia Sophia are. The Blue Mosque, especially, revels in its intricacy and beauty. I've long been a fan of the ornate, ancient cathedrals of Europe, and I am no hard-pressed to decide between the two genres of religious buildings. In either case, the tapestries, decorations, altars and mosaics and phenomenal. The Hagia Sophia has a slightly more austere look, possibly due to its age, possibly due to its conversion into a mosque from its original design as a cathedral, followed by its conversion into a museum. However, the dones and courtyards, and the expansive inner atrium all speak to a devotion to the almighty that I find equally understandable and inconceivable.


The Grand Bazaar, on the other hand, impressed me less. Though it certainly bore the thriving, vibrant air of bargaining and hustling I'd been lead to expect, I was disappointed at the repetitiveness and cheapness of the merchandise. This clearly is not where Turks come to shop, but rather where they relieve clueless tourists of their money. Chess sets, carpets and fake clothes/watches/handbags abound, oft-repeated from one stall to the next. Haggling is a must, and as it is a skill I lack, I most certainly was taken for a ride on the few items I did choose to purchase. I think I'll stick to eBay from now on. Inexplicably, I'd end up back at the bazaar at least three more times over the course of my trip. Go figure.

After this, we met up with Rosie and planned the next phase of our trip: Gallipoli. Dan had found out about a tour to Gallipoli, the area of Turkey in which allied forces (Dan's grandfather included) landed during the first world war. The tour we elected to go on was a two-day, all-inclusive affair; they included a bus trip to Channakale, a guided bus tour of the war sites and grave sites, a night in a local youth hostel and (the highlight of the trip), SCUBA diving down to WW1 wrecks.

As with all such war-memorial tours I've taken, this one was quite humbling. The territory was breathtakingly beautiful, from the azure ocean to the vibrant hillsides. To look out over such expanses and think of young men clawing their way up amidst machine-gun fire, to think of people spilling blood to either seize or defend such beautiful territory and the dominion of those who resided on it, is a shocking indictment of humanity.

The SCUBA diving was great, even though I got badly sunburned (due in part to my policy of staying out far too long because of my long-standing and never-successful policy of "if I'm not pink now, I never will be, right?" and due partly to Julia's sabotage of my lower back suntan lotion application.) We were cut somewhat short for time due to a few technical glitches early on, but I still got to go down and see a sunken desalinisation vessel. Apparently, the Turks had retrofitted a whaling boat to desalinate the sea water and provide fresh water for the troops. The thinking was that the allied ships wouldn't sink a civilian boat. This worked for awhile, until one of the allied warships finally asked the question "wait a minute! There aren't whales for thousands of miles, why do you need a whaling boat?", after which it was promptly sunk. This was my first time SCUBA-diving and I therefore had to stick close to the dive master, but it was a great experience. Once you get used to breathing through the regulator, the feeling of weightlessness really is amazing, and it was a great way to experience a small piece of history.

The next week was filled with debating, and I won't bore everyone with the details (all two of you who read this blog, anyway). Suffice it to say, it was filled with fun, merriment, pretension, drinking, socialising, catching up with old friends, meeting new friends, debating, debating and more debating, some more drinking, some wonderful buffets and some great parties. Koç put on an absolutely flawless tournament; from the food to the socials to the debating, everything was done to the highest standards and executed brilliantly. They are bidding for the world championships in 2010, and I hope they get it. Dan and I did alright at the tournament, but were disappointed by our early performance, which relegated us to some less-than-spectacular rooms later on. Highlights of the tournament for me were the night-time boat cruise of the Bosphorus river, the final round being held in a 5th century Byzantine cathedral, and the post-final clubbing in all our over-dressed, sweaty geekiness. You haven't lived until you've seen 200 debaters in a small, hot club in suits and ties, pretending they know how to dance.

After that, my plan had been to go to Safranbolu (a city in the north of Turkey that's generally out of the way and supposedly quite nice, old and quaint) for a day or so, then spend a few days in the Cappadocia region in the south, specifically hoping to solo-hike the length of the Ilhara Valley. However, after a solid week of debating, I was pretty worn out, and decided to spend a day at the beach, and doing some lounging around with various debaters at the university (which had a lovely pool). Both of these were nice and relaxing, and got my batteries well recharged; however, the lost time impinged on my other plans, and I had to scrap Safranbolu completely. In the end, though I greatly enjoyed the pool and beach time I had, I wish I'd been better organised about my travel plans; alas, it just gives me that much more to see on the next visit. And I did still get to see Cappadocia, which had been one of must-sees, and was a sublime experience.

Cappadocia, a region in the south of Turkey, is the centre of Turkey Christianity; for this reason, it is veritably littered with scores of ancient churches, frescoes and temples. What's fascinating about the region, however, is not that it is the epicentre of Christianity for the Turks; rather it is the unique landscapes and geological formations, and the resultant ways of life that took root there, creating environs that exist nowhere else and sit as monuments to austere beauty and workmanship. The central and preeminent feature of Cappadocia is the so-called "fairy chimneys" (pictured above). I won't go into detail about how these were formed, if you are curious, check out this brief Wikipedia article. Basically, ancient Turks can across these fairy chimneys and decided that they'd made great adobes. Therefore, the carved intricate, often multi-storey houses into the chimneys, and into many of the surrounding caves. They had windows, different rooms for different purposes, churches and more. The basically developed an entire society centred around the local geological formations. Interestingly, a few of these fairy chimneys are still inhabited, with some even being for sale.

This gives Cappadocia the feel of two very strong bits of fictional imagery: Bedrock City (from the Flintstones) and Tatooine (from Star Wars). Seeing dozens of caves (and pigeon coops) nestled into the windswept hills evokes both cultural images. I spent my time in Cappadocia both exploring on my own and on an organised tour. The open-air museum in Goreme features some of the most intricate fairy chimney abodes and many churches, and I spent a late morning/early afternoon perusing the museum. I then went off on my own, hiking through the nearby valley of swords, which contained a collection of smaller lumps, many of which were carved out, but the mority of them long since abandoned, and often eroded somewhat. It was tranquil and lovely, and when I crested the hill edging the valley, I could see down below a series of fields and what appeared to be some inhabited fairy chimneys. It was a scene of utter peace and exuded a sense of harmony. To enjoy the settings, I picked a cave carved into one of the lump-shaped abandoned mini-fairy chimneys and just read for several hours (Anil's Ghost for those that are curious, an amazingly descriptive work I'd highly recommend).
I also wrote some postcards, and may have napped for a short while. It was a lovely respite; while I enjoy an always-moving, see-everything-yo-can trip as well, there's something nice about just finding a shady, but still hot area, and relaxing completely.

The guided tour I did was of an underground city and a hike along the Ihhara Valley. The underground city, built millennia ago, and originally designed to house as many as 50,000 inhabitants. It was designed as a security feature, and was generally uninhabited. The idea was, the community would live in the city above, but if they were ever attacked, they could retreat to the underground city for refuge. The main access was through a narrow stairwell opening into a large chamber, thus allowing for an easy defence against any interlopers who might try to take over the city from above.

The Ihlara valley hike was quite possibly one of the most breathtaking walks I've ever taken. Cut through sandstone hills (with caves and churches carved into them at frequent intervals), the Ihlara Valley is a swath of lust foliage and a beautiful river amid the arid environs typical to that part of Anatolia. Pristine and dripping with a sense of history and grandeur, the valley is as yet not completely overrun by tourists, though they are plentiful. The hike takes about four hours, and you can hear the babbling of the river besides you at all times, while gazing up at the cliff face, in which thousands of people once lived, prayed and thrived. It's a truly unique locale, and although I was initially wary of taking a guided tour rather than going on my own, I'm glad that I did-it gave me a chance to see more than I would have otherwise, and the experience was wonderful. That night, I went out with some Canadians from the youth hostel in which I was staying (which, incidentally was built into a cave, very cool indeed) for an organised night of traditional Turkish dancing, food and wine. Very fun.

After that, I took the long bus ride back to Istanbul, where I stayed for a night before flying back to Manchester. The experience, I think it's fair to say, left me in some awe. Turkey is a fascinating country, and one about which I wish I knew more, and one to which I definitely aspire to return some day. Turkey is a country that is overwhelmingly Muslim, yet officially secular. It's a country that is the gateway between Europe and the Middle East, and that encompasses both a diverse and proud history, and a modern bent. All of this is reflect in many aspects of Turkey, but doubly so in Istanbul itself.

In Istanbul, it is a common sight to see a 1500-year-old mosque cloistered next to a modern glass office building. Markets and bazaars coexist with electronics shops and cellular phone providers. The country's religiosity is evident in the existence of the (technically banned) headscarves worn by many women, yet the secularism that is bound in law is obvious, in the bohemian, party atmosphere of the night life and the modernity of dress. There are, of course, factions that think this movement has happened too quickly-the recent election of the AK party, though tempered by the military, has shown that there are many who object to the banning of religious icons in public. Turkey clashes with its ethnic Kurdish people demonstrate the tensions that exist within this frequently conquered state, once subjugated by the Ottoman empire, among others.

Turkey seems to stand at a crossroads, disparate views stretching forth in front of it. The minarets of mosques that are visible throughout show its adherence to its Islamic roots, yet Turkey's on-again-off-again desire to join the European Union has brought about changes to its human rights and social welfare policies that are more in line with liberal democracies. The appeals of each seems to be divergent, yet the Turkish people seem to handle this internal conflict with comparative aplomb, the glittering skylines and traditional architecture a monument to the republic that Ataturk crated, forged in the crucible of the first world war. Whether they embrace the traditional roots, mired in the past, adherent to religious teachings and traditional values, or embrace the modernity offered by the western world, with its potential pitfalls in economics and the often-implied loss of individuality and morality, is still to be decided. Whichever road Turkey takes, a culture so strong, so proud and so deserving on unity and preservation seems unlikely to disappear into the miasma of sameness so prevalent in other parts of the world. As part of the EU, or as an independent nation, Turkey will always be Turkey: hot, beautiful, austere and traditional; giving, exciting, modern and
dynamic. As the office towers continue to sprout, the dily calls to prayer from the Blue Mosque will no doubt echo into the evening's gloom, a haunting testament to the well-deserved pride of Turkish people, and their strength.

Following the military triumph we accomplished by bayonets, weapons and blood, we shall strive to win victories in such fields as culture, scholarship, science and economics.
- Mustafa Kemal Atatürk

Update: Manchester, Poland and beyond

When I last brought everyone up to date on my status, I had just spent my first Christmas away from home, and my second New Years Eve. Since then, not a heck of a lot has gone on, but enough to warrant an update. (note: click on any of the pictures in this post to see a larger version)

I spent the first few months of 2007 as I spend most of my months-going to debate tournaments and slacking off from doing any real work. The debate season is much less intense after the Christmas break, so there were only a few IVs (tournaments) to go to, though we did quite well by and large (I generally went with DanB). We went to Glasgow twice, Edinburgh, and London and made it to the final or semi-final in each. Many escapades occurred at some of these, though I won't get into that, even if I could remember all the details.

The most interesting one was Tilbury House. Tilbury House is the debate society for the University of Cologne, Germany, and is legendary amongst Manchester debaters for being the most fun IV of the year. Aside from the fact that the Tilbury guys are some of the coolest, nicest and easiest-going debaters, it's also a chance to see a really nice city in Germany, and they provide all sort of entertainment and spectacle.

As is traditional with foreign IVs, we spent a few days just exploring Cologne itself. The highlights of this are the gorgeous cathedral and the Lindt chocolate musem. The Cathedral is a massive testament to the Catholic church's penchant from dramatic architecture and the spires affords some amazing view of the city (in addition to a cardio workout that is non-pareil, given the number of steps one must climb to get there. Massive, vaulted ceilings, beautiful stained glass and works of art, and a series of enormous bells give testament to what you can achieve with nearly limitless untaxed financial resources, and a dedication to a higher power. Simply put, if you want to inspire a sense of awe in the almighty in people, a building like this is a great way to do it.

Interestingly, though, I found the interior of the cathedral to be somewhat... austere... compared to others I've seen. Notre Dame and Le Sacre Coeur in Paris, for example, absolutely drip with ostentatious opulence and grandeur. The Cologne cathedral, on the other hand-while grand and well-ornamented to be sure-had an interior largely devoid of excessive decoration. The massive walls up to the vaulted ceiling, for example, were largely bare, and presented an almost ascetic view of the church. Don't misunderstand-paintings and stained glass still abound, but they are more confined to specific areas than I've noted in other such grandiose churches.

The Lindt chocolate museum, on the other hand, was sugar-sweet fun. It showed a history of both the origins of the cocoa bean and its cultivation, and the Lindt company itself. A wander-at-your-own-pace experience, I was able to see everything from the earliest tools and canoe used to harvest and transport the pods of cocoa beans, up to currently-operational chocolate-making machinery. Quite an interesting process to get from giant palm-frond-bearing trees with nearly tasteless, bitter beans up to chocolate so yummy it borders on being a controlled substance. Plus, the entire place smells of chocolate, which is always nice. There's also a gift shop, which is just mean, because after spending an hour and a half learning about chocolate, how am I supposed to resist spending way too much on cool varieties of chocolate (including my favourite-dark chocolate with a hint of chili powder).

The tournament itself was fun, though I did disappointingly poorly. In general, I'm not too fussed about doing well or poorly, but in this case, I felt my team (Hannah and I) were clearly robbed in one round, which I do find frustrating. Still, one of the advantages of being thoroughly non-competitive is that you can still enjoy yourself even if you don't win. And we did that in droves. From a "bar crawl" that covered all of two bars (the latter of which I almost immediately fell asleep in despite being only tipsy) to a basement club buffet and party, to Kenny and I fake-smoking rolled-up vanilla wafers (while wearing a ridiculous shamrock Guinness hat I'd brought because it was St. Patrick's Day), it was a good time all around, and I eagerly await going back next year for more. And, in fairness, Manchester was represented in the final, as Tom and Kenny defended the right of people to gauge in incestual relationships (note: the sides of a debate are chosen randomly, and debaters' views do no necessarily represent what they argue in the round).

The next big event was my trip to Krakow, Poland. This was a fairly spur-of-the-moment trip, organised all of ten days before we left. Mo and his MBA compatriots were set to finish their course near the middle of April, and Mo wanted to take some time off to travel before starting work. Therefore, he recruited myself and his friend Sam into a trip to Eastern Europe. We settled on Krakow fairly arbitrarily, insofar as it was cheap, none of us had ever been there, and I'd heard it was great (I have several friends who had spent some time in Krakow, and all raved about the experience). And I have to say, I'm glad we went.

I had misconceptions about Eastern Europe, largely based on the dated stereotypes of a run-down, desolate wasteland, held over from the days of the USSR and its iron curtain (see Eurotrip for the classic view of this stereotype). In fact, it's quite the contrary. Since the collapse of the Berlin wall and Soviet-era communism, and aided by the EU, the former Eastern Bloc countries have pushed for greater integration and prosperity, and it shows. Yes, there are still pre-fab construction apartment blocks, but there's also a wealth of old and exquisite architecture. Honestly, it's one of the favourite trips I've taken, and I cannot wait to go back.

Partly, we got lucky. The entire time we were there, it was 22C and sunny, which makes any trip nicer (just wish I'd brought shorts). But it's more than that. Krakow, especially in April, when we went, isn't too touristy, so you don't get a throng of camera-wielding people wherever you go. Everything is cheap-food, beer, consumer products, all cost about 1/3 of what they do in the UK. The women are beautiful and plentiful, a wonderful-if rare-combination. The nightlife was thriving and featured a lack of cover charges in addition to the aforementioned cheap drinks. And there's tons of history, which I will describe below (since the nightlife stories don't exactly require a lot of explanation). There are three historic sites of note which I visited while there: Kamierz, Auschwitz, Wawel Castle and the Wieliczka salt mine.

Kazimierz is the Jewish district, which at one point was the largest Jewish community in all of Europe. Though many of the Jews fled during the Nazi occupation, the area still maintains its distinctive feel and atmosphere, and provided a nice walk on a sunny day. I also ate, with Sam, one of the best meals I had in Poland at a small restaurant called "Noah's Ark", which featured live traditional Jewish music, played by a three-piece band (bass, clarinet and accordion).

Auschwitz, of course, lies at the other end of the spectrum of Jewish significance. The site of the largest concentration camps of the Nazi regime, Auschwitz and Birkenau, the location is steeped in morbid infamy. I unfortunately arrived late in the day, only about an hour and a half before the close of the camp (now a museum), so I didn't get to explore to the extent that I would have liked.

The front gates of Auschwitz are marked with the infamous slogan Arbeit Macht Frei. This translates to "work will set you free". Which, as it turns out, was a lie. Auschwitz, and more specifically Birkenau (which I ran out of time for, and didn't get to see) were home to the worst parts of the Nazi "Final Solution". This is where people were herded onto cattle cars and gassed by the thousands. Needless to say, it's a sobering experience. However, what I found interesting is that the camp itself didn't seem as ominous as I'd expected; though obviously people were crammed in well beyond any reasonable capacity, the barracks looked like standard barracks, not the bastions of torture they really were. What really drove the point home, though, was the little things. It was seeing a display of the hundreds of thousands of eye glasses, shoes or combs that were unearthed. Even though it doesn't seem like this should carry the same weight as the pictures and descriptions of the place, these displays of so many commonplace objects, combined with the obvious reason behind their being discarded, really drove home the magnitude of the atrocities.

It also created an interesting dilemma for me, as a visitor to the camp. After being chastised many times by my mother for taking pictures of places and things as opposed to myself in those places, I have made sure I get photos of myself whenever I travel. But, it brought up an interesting question: is it right to smile in a photo taken at Auschwitz? It seems very disrespectful to be smiling in photos of a place where one of the worst crimes in human history was perpetrated, where untold millions lost their lives. In the end, I chose to appear in the photos, but to not smile.

Wieliczka, on the other hand, is a much cheerier place. It's a salt mine first opened in the 13th century, though surface salt had been discovered as much as 200 years prior. It's also, by far, the biggest salt mine in the world, extending down over 300m and featuring over 200km of internal tunnels and over 2000 caverns. This alone would make it an interesting site to see. What's truly fascinating, however, is the carvings. You see, as the miners (who were not professional sculptors) dug further into the earth, they created massive carvings along their way, of amazing intricacy. But these carvings and statues were not hewn from stone or wood; instead they were carved directly into the salt walls themselves. The big giant head you see Mo and I standing besides (and old king of Poland), for example, was carved directly from the salt itself as the cavern was excavated. Futhermore, the plaque behind the head, the walls and even the floor and ceiling were similarly carved out of the salt walls. They even carved mosaics, including the last supper and other frescos. The work was amazing intricate and I verified that it was made out of salt (I licked the Copernicus statue). The amount of time and effort required for such a thing is truly mind-boggling.

Perhaps most impressive, though, was the main hall. The picture you see to the left is a view from the balcony (also carved out of salt). What must be noted about this view is that everything is made out of salt. The stairs, the floor "tiles", even the chandeliers! At one point, this entire hall (about 125m underground, by the way) was nothing more than a solid wall of rock salt. It was only as the salt was removed for sale and processing that the hall as you now see it emerged. And once more, you wouldn't know it, unless you you were told (or licked the walls and floor), because the floor looks like marble tiles, as do the stairs and walls; the chandeliers look like any other crystal chandeliers, and the wall carvings look like stone carvings. At the far end of the hall is an entire Catholic altar for church proceedings (most of the miners were very religious). It truly was a marvel to see.

Needless to say, I loved Poland. while there I ran into a random Canadian who was spending a year teaching English. I have to see, it's an idea whose appeal seems instantly obvious to me. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there, and cannot wait to go back; the idea of being able to spend a year really getting to know the city is one with great magnetism. No matter what, I know I will return, as soon as I am able.

And that brings us pretty much up to speed. My work is progressing, slowly. I have made up my first batch of samples, and have sent them off to the lab with which collaborate (in Marseilles, France). In the meantime, I'm back to doing more boring journal-reading and online research. Which is why I get bored and write in my blog instead of doing work. That being said, I'm hoping to get some real results soon, which is both encouraging and something I hope will spur further excitement-it's easy to feel the drag of long projects like this one. I hope all is well with any who read this, and look forward to hearing from you soon.