FRIDAY

In short: a powerful day.

We arrived in Japan last night after the three hour flight from Hong Kong. The cultural experience began with a trip to the local 7-11 shortly after hotel check-in. On the positive side, I was introduced to jalapeño rice crackers and Japanese ice cream, while on the less positive side, I was re-introduced to the English-vacuum and American-style-price-levels. After an enjoyable rest, we set off early this morning for the three hour bus ride to Nagasaki from Fukuoka, the closest international airport and the home of our bed for the preceding night.

While the Japanese appear to be quite serious about there touring, cramming six destinations and two meals into an 11-hour day, the most memorable sites of the day were rather somber reminders of death and destruction: the Atomic Bomb memorial and museum and the memorial to the Martyrdom of the 26 Saints.

The Atomic Bomb experience–first the opportunity to stand in the remains of the Catholic Church that was the epicenter of the world’s second offensive nuclear experience and then to tour the museum that chronicled this event and the advent of the Atomic Age in general–was profound. Both were very overwhelming experiences, particularly as seen through the eyes of an American, a future member of the USAF, and a person of faith.

My primary regret is the abbreviated time allotted for both locations–certainly two hours in total wasn’t nearly enough to begin unpacking the sheer scale of this concept. Also, I’m concerned that the depiction of America’s use of the atomic weapon–and the ensuing arms race–was portrayed in isolation, outside of the context of war and peace, or the greater clash of good and evil. Perhaps this is actually a courtesy of the Japanese, allowing the participant to formulate a perspective based on one’s own understanding of these contextual issues. While viewing the tremendously horrific images of the aftermath of such an event churns one to a more blurred degree of moral clarity on nuclear war than through framing the issue through the statistics of a textbook, I believe that justice–not to America’s decision, but to the lives obliterated–demands a greater and more profound discovery of not only what led to such incomprehensible destruction, but also to the owing of so much, by so many, to so few. War–and the ultimate of such, in the atomic sense–is a hellish thing, but I fear it is not the most cursed of human experiences.

Another sacrifice remembered today was that of 26 Christians who were, quite literally, crucified for their faith in 1597 by a Japanese ruler who feared the potentially subversive qualities of the life-changing message they proclaimed. I found this memorial particularly fascinating in the context described by Endo’s Silence, a required read for my most recent course in Pepperdine’s Social Action & Justice Colloquium. While I was never too thrilled about the quantity of time necessary to invest in the book, I was intrigued by the questions it posed at the intersection of faith, apologetics, and martyrdom. My intrigue was renewed today when I stood on the ground where such uncertainties were resolutely answered with the piercing of 26 quite ordinary, but quite committed Christians.

So, all in all, a very introspective day. I’m looking forward to using this brief experience as a catalyst to dig further into all that has been written about the aforementioned events. Watch this space for the eventual formation of some of my own responses–but, in the interim, remember that you, too, are an intellectually endowed creation just as welcome to share with the world such discovery. Just do what you can, where you are, with what you have… right?

SATURDAY

Today, it seems most expedient to deviate from my usual format of starting at the beginning and instead initiate blogging with the events of now:

It’s just past 10 PM and it appears that sometime in the last few hours, a rather momentous earthquake occurred in Tokyo. The details are very hard to decipher since we’re watching an entirely-Japanese telecast, but we have heard Los Angeles mentioned several times (possibly a comparison to the Northridge quake?) While this doesn’t appear to be catastrophic, it seems to have rattled everyone to the point of uninterrupted television coverage…

This event follows an evening spent gorging myself in a traditional Japanese dinner and spa experience. The dinner was very raw and entirely new, but on the whole, very enjoyable and tolerably tasty. My verdict is that Japanese food is definitely a whole ‘nother animal that Southeast Asian food, and slightly less agreeable to American’s constitution.

The spa experience that followed was certainly memorable–not because of the well-appointed facilities, but because the Japanese do it in their birthday suits. And, after 9 foreign cities so far, I feel qualified to conclude that nothing demolishes a cultural barrier like nudity. Once one gets past the initial, and very defining, difference in bathing apparel, it was actually quite pleasant. After two hours of conversation, I nearly forgot I was conversing commando.

Today’s tour pace was a bit more reserved that yesterday, largely because of the distance involved between today’s sights. We did visit a national part with a dormant volcano and sulfur springs, a Japanese castle that Christians occupied under siege from the emperor’s forces, and a traditional samurai house. Personally, I feel like my sightseeing climaxed yesterday, but it is still quite a thrill to continue exposure to distinctive Japanese culture. More about that in the photos…

I’m off to investigate the impact of this earthquake on our planned departure for Hong Kong tomorrow morning…

For the full story on the earthquake, check the Reuters report. Selfish news: our travel proceeded uninterrupted. Bad news: this is the worst earthquake Japan has seen in nine years.

Photos and video from the trip will be posted as time allows… thanks for tuning in

I’m a bit behind on getting the Thailand adventure online: the first order of business upon my return has been getting ready for my first oral and written Chinese language exams. Just do me a favor and before you go to bed tonight, thank the Almighty for your native tongue…

FRIDAY

One night in Bangkok? Check.

I got on the ground in Bangkok this morning via a red-eyed flight from Hong Kong on Emirates Airlines. I was very impressed with Emirates: flying a new 777-300, getting a full meal on a 10 PM flight, and flight attendants wearing Arabic-berets were all pleasant surprises. After getting into Bangkok, I hopped on the last airport bus of the day and took the 45 minute ride into town and towards my bed for the night.

I stayed the night (or at least what remained of it) at a fantastic joint called Big John’s Guesthouse (No, I’m not kidding–check it out yourself.) It’s an Aussie-run joint and it just opened a new facility at the beginning of the month, so I was treated to a very new, very clean bed, a warm shower, and 30 min of free Internet access (on an iMac, no less!) all for less than the cost of a #1 at McDonalds back in my beloved Etas Unis.

My day in Bangkok primarily consisted of some shopping opportunities and wandering around the city, all while trying to avoid the recent outbreak of bird flu. I visited the Weekend Market, which was only partially open due to my visit falling on a Friday. Nonetheless, it was very interesting to see the massive ramp-up process for the 200,000 shoppers (Yes, that’s what the Lonely Planet says) this place serves on weekends. I also got to experience the run around of haggling with an Arabic tailor over a custom made suite. While the fashions (and certainly everything else as well) are a bargain over here, I’m beginning to think custom-fitted may be a bit more than I need…

On a larger scale, I must remark that while Bangkok is a noticeably dirty and sadly run-down city, the people make it a very enjoyable place. For the first time since I’ve been across this ocean, I’ve found a destination where folks smile back at you, the shopkeepers aren’t pushy in the least, and everyone has a sense of courtesy and personal space. What a marvelous place! It’s been a very welcome change compared to what, in contrast, has seemed like a cultural game of “Smear the Tourist.”

I’m currently sitting in my bunk about two hours into the 12-hour train ride to Chiang Mai. I hope the next hours will be an excellent opportunity to catch up on some reading and some shut eye before my 36 hour trek of Chiang Mai. Thanks for reading.

SATURDAY

Hi-Ho! Hi-Ho! It’s off for a trek we go!

Two words say it: Thailand rocks.

As promised, my night train from Bangkok faithfully pulled in to Chiang Mai at 6:30 AM. The train ended up being fairly comfortable, but I am happy to say that I don’t remember most of it–I fell asleep soon after dinner and didn’t regain consciousness until the conductor delivered the cross-cultural wakeup call of slamming the bunk next to me shut.

At the station, I was picked up my trek guide and whisked off to a guest house where I was given an hour to repack before the adventure began. At the appointed time, the guide returned (and thankfully returned my passport that he had gone to copy) and led me out to the trek truck. The trek truck doesn’t exactly stop to pick you up–rather, it pauses at a designated point in traffic and zooms ahead when the other drivers get impatient, whether or not you’ve successfully thrown yourself and all your Earthly possessions into the back.

From there, we set off on the hour long ride (all piled in the back Afghani-warlord-style) to a local market where the guides purchased our food for the weekend. Our second stop was our first tour destination: the Mork-Fa waterfall. The waterfall was quite spectacular–really an up close and personal experience, particularly when we got a chance to hop in and swim under buckets of dihydrogen monoxide aqueous that had just plummeted from hundred of feet above. [Editorial note: I didn't discover until the train ride back to Bangkok that a little slip at the waterfall had actually, apparently, sprained my ankle. Everything turned out just fine, though.]

En route to our next destination, I had a chance to to talk to my fellow trekkers–all twentysomethings from France, Austria, and Ireland. My empirical evidence demonstrates that all language must be stored in the same spot in the brain, because ever since I started trying to “learn” Chinese, my high school French has been resurfacing en masse, despite the fact I haven’t touched the language in nearly three years. I did my best to get to know the guys from France in their mother tongue, though things got a bit linguistically rocky when they brought up the topic of President Bush and the election. I quickly realized that I don’t know a single political word in French–but apparently pantomimes of terrorist acts transcended the language barrier. When I was finally able to communicate my choice in the coming election, I quickly became the political minority on the truck–but thankfully the French moral relativism came to my rescue and they concluded, “Who are we to judge you?”

Upon arrival at our next stop, we prepared to set off for what we paid for, a “trek.” I must admit I was expecting more of a nature walk, given how overstated most tourist attractions have been to this point, but these trek folks weren’t screwing around. We did a six mile bushwhack through the Thai jungle and visited several scenic spots and multiple hill tribe villages. The trek was most enjoyable–peace, quiet, and ample oxygen. I did find a great deal of humor in watching the chainsmoking Frenchmen who would puff down a Marlboro or two at each water break and then wheeze and crawl up the next hill. Silly French. Needless to say, we made it safe ‘n sound to the the hilltribe village where we well spend the night and from where I am currently writing.

SUNDAY

I’d like to take this chance to correct yesterday’s thesis. Thailand not only rocks, it rocks my world.

After enduring a bit of a jungle typhoon last night, this morning turned into a beautiful day. We began day two of the trek with an elephant ride–yes an ELEPHANT RIDE! Perhaps this event isn’t too exciting for folks that grew up riding horses or other large mammals (or with your uncle in Alaska hunting wolverines), but for a guy whose mountin’ and trottin’ experience consists largely of childhood trips on the back of the family Golden Retriever, this was an incredible thrill. We hopped on the top of these massive creatures and enjoyed an hour long ride down and through the river. It was incredible just to feel the spectacular force echo through every step and sway of these pachyderms and see how steadfast they were in spite of rushing water up to their eyes. Really, really sweet.

Following the elephant ride, we continued our hike downstream (apparently the river gets too deep even for elephants) and soon came to the bamboo rafting camp. The bamboo rafting is quite an interesting process–each raft is single use and is therefore made to order for each group going down the river. And, by raft, I mean something a bit different than our American equivalent–basically, they just lash together a massive bamboo-billboard type structure and you’re told to stand on the darn thing while it floats down the river and through the rapids. It’s quite a thrill–kind of a very tame version of surfing. But, nonetheless, I think it’s something that we probably wouldn’t get away with down the Arkansas in Colorado…

After enjoying a few hours of this experiment in physics called rafting, our trek reached our final destination and we were rewarded with lunch and certificated proclaiming we were now “real trekkers.” We hopped back in the trekking truck and enjoyed three more hours of bonding that can only take place when 12 people from four countries are piled in to the back of a pickup truck.

As soon as I got back to Chiang Mai, I was met by the owner of the travel agency and two 19-year-old lady interns from the same agency who were to take me to the train station. The plan was to get a ticket for the night train back to Bangkok that was leaving in 30 min–unfortunately, that entire train was sold out, as were the next two trains. Luckily, I was able to get a third-class ticket (meaning no bunk, no air conditioning) for the last train of the night to Bangkok–and thankfully it would get me to my flight just in time.

However, I now happened to have a good 3 hours of free time before the train, and I felt I had inconvenienced the travel agency folks for rushing to get me on a train that was sold out. So, I did what seemed in my mind to be the right thing (and in hindsight probably looks awkwardly American) and offered to take the travel agency folks out for dinner. Long story short, it was a delightful time–excellent Thai food, some karoake to some Richard Marx classics, and I even got a shower before the train. Thai people are really, really cool.

After a great final evening in Chiang Mai, I got my train, and eventually my plane… but now I’ve to run to class!

Photos from the trip are now online… video coming soon!

WEDNESDAY

Will the real China please stand up?

In a cruel (and sleep-compromising) clash of logistics, today’s journey to Shangai began at 6:45 AM–just four hours or so after we concluded our celebration of Hong Kong’s Mid-Autumn Festival. The festival wasn’t terribly sensational by American-holiday-standards; it’s primarily just a secular, nationalistic opportunity to get together, light some lanterns, and collectively gaze at the full moon. But, in my experience, it was an excellent opportunity to learn more about Europe through conversation with peers from the continent and to continue to explore Hong Kong in new dimensions.

We’re in Shanghai for just a bit over 24 hours, but its been a marvelous (and surprisingly American) experience, thus far. Our journey began by meeting Charlie, our charismatic and Canadian-English speaking tour guide. He’s a very good-humored guy, the first such Asian I’ve encountered. Communicating with him, however, takes some getting used to, as he speaks primarily in rhetorical questions. Our afternoon tour stops included a bus tour of the very new and surprisingly Western city of Shanghai (I’m still waiting for the backwards-Bombay-type-side I was expecting to show itself), the Shanghai Museum, and a tourist trap/market known as the Shangai Gardens.

This evening was an absolute vacation and, at least for a few moments, a perfect fusion of East & West. For dinner, we enjoyed a terrific and mostly Western buffet (with all-you-can-eat STEAK!), an absolutely mind blowing acrobatic show (video on that one coming soon…), and a game of bowling in the basement of our Holiday Inn! Back to the real world in the morning…

THURSDAY

Silly Communist, Capitalism is for kids

Sitting here and sneaking a few thoughts into my paper-blog-substitute is a bit of a strange feeling. On one hand, I know that the business end of this government is a decently rotten regime… but on on the other, they put on a heck of a show for Westerners. I’m currently laying in what I’m convinced is the most lusciously comfortable bed in this hemisphere… and that comes after a trip to the sauna and another dinner buffet The most excellent perks of the place, though–beyond the TV speakers in the bathroom, the self-defogging mirror, or the “pillow menu” (yes, you decide what’s good enough for your head)–would be the complimentary robe and slippers. It’s totally sweet–I feel like a mob boss. In slippers.

Today was spent as a morning in Shanghai, an afternoon flight to Beijing, and an evening getting settled and enjoying another hotel-done-right. The morning markets in Shanghai were a “cultural experience” if I’ve ever had one. The death-defying (for the pedestrians, not us) taxi ride led us to a huge outdoor square filled with hundreds of dorm-room-sized “shops,” each hawking goods that appear to have just fallen off the boat headed for America.

Prices were quite competitive, but the new experience came in the aggressiveness of the merchants. I suppose being a 19-year-old-male-Caucasian put me squarely in the target demographic for nearly all of the available goods (watches, shoes, DVDs, clothes, etc). I was astonished to find that for two hours I could literally not take FOUR steps without being accosted by a boisterous capitalist-convert. The totally foreign part of such an encounter was that these folks would not leave you alone until you acknowledge them–and it’s a nasty Catch-22, because giving them and twig of attention means they’ll take a chopstick-tree’s worth. On a few occasions, sellers tried to physically drag me back to their stand after I declined a product–sort of a tug-of-war over my arm, my money, and my attention.

I was quite surprised by my attitude metamorphosis through the experience. Initially, I saw it as comical, then I, too, became competitively belligerent, and, finally, in a surrender to the continual battle for attention, I decided to simply be as kind as possible to these people. I suppose the final response was largely due to some words of a fella named Taylor Caldwell that I recently read:

“The most desperate need of men today is not a new vaccine for any disease… Man does not need to go to the moon or other solar systems… He does not require bigger and better bombs and missiles… His real need, his most terrible need, is for someone to listen to him, not as a ‘patient,’ but as a human soul.”

And so, while I can’t say that I was able to really listen in great detail because of the language barrier, I made a feeble attempt just to love these folks. Refusing to look at each other turned into pats on the back; I tried approaching them before they got to me; and I found that looking at the person instead of the product made a difference in both the attitude of buyer and seller. Much to my surprise, it truly worked. On probably a dozen occasions, sellers started chuckling when I declined an offer but left a smile and a “Thank you”–apparently they don’t hear gratitude too often. These were folks just like me, and perhaps just as much as they wanted my yuan, they wanted a friend. And so, it quickly seemed like a battle through the trenches of capitalism’s aggressive asylum turned into an opportunity to give out more thanks than currency, to take more smiles than shopping bags.

FRIDAY

Being Seen From Space

Day two of the fieldtrip to Beijing was expended on a visit to the Great Wall & Ming’s Tomb. The current state of this particular portion of the Great Wall was slightly disappointing compared to the historical magnitude and architectural monsterousness of the structure. The part we saw was tremendously crowded and saturated in the associated tourist trade, but it was still pretty awesome to think I was standing on something visible from space. Also, it was a marvelous temperature and elevation change–being short of breath and freezing seemed just like an autumn Colorado day.

Ming’s tomb–one of 13 tombs holding the remains of the Ming Dynasty–was rather anti-climactic due to the fact it was sacked during Mao’s Cultural Revolution and all the artifacts inside (including Ming himself) were destroyed. So, what remains is an underground-bunker-NORAD-like structure that is interesting in exterior design but a vacuum of cultural experience on the inside.

This evening we enjoyed a Chinese tea demonstration that was enjoyable in taste but also very intriguing in the walk-in-infomercial concept it embodied. Remind me to show you the ingenious thermometer these silly Asians came up with.

We ended the night with a successful venture to a mammoth bookstore and another bout of relaxation in the sauna. On the whole, this has been a blast–but it still doesn’t quite feel like Beijing.

SATURDAY

Reaching Into The Textbook

Day three of Beijing continues to rock. The order of the day included visits to the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, and the Temple of Heaven. All of the above were, as expected, rampant with tourists, but nonetheless fascinating starting points through which to imagine the famous-–and infamous–events of history they witnessed.

The plague of visitors has taken a toll on the Forbidden City and it currently lies in a depressing state of disrepair. Fear not, though, loyal reader–for the Chinese have undertaken a glorious renovation program prior to the Beijing 2008 Olympics, and refurbishing the Forbidden City is a cornerstone of this project. On the Olympics note, it’s quite curious to find the locals so excited about a sports spectacular some four years away. Many keen entrepreneurs are already exploiting the opportunity, with unofficial Beijing 2008 products available on nearly every street corner.

Stepping into Tiananmen Square felt like walking on to a movie set in a number of odd ways. First, in the fiction of a two-hour tour that mentioned nothing of the ‘89 massacre. Second, in the fantastical realization that a terrifyingly large plurality–-perhaps even majority–-of this generation of Chinese have no idea what happened to their countrymen or their future on that fateful June morning, some 15 years ago. Third, it’s difficult to even wrap one’s mind around the size of the area–a place billed as the world’s largest plaza, with the capacity to hold one million folks. Finally, it also was reminiscent of Hollywood in the celebrity we Americans suddenly experienced–a celebrity entirely absent (though peacefully so) in all my travels thus far. As soon as we walked into the square, suddenly and quite regularly, dozens of Chinese (apparently visiting the city from rural areas) approached us and asked for pictures with us, the curious Caucasian giants. It was a very enjoyable experience, but nonetheless, seemingly more cinematic than real.

In a final observation for today, the Temple of Heaven was cool not only because it looks like a King-Kong-sized wedding cake, but also because the whole darn thing was built without nails or concrete! I guess when you’re playing with chopsticks all day long, eventually you come up with life-sized-Lincoln-Logs…

SUNDAY

At The Altar Of A Censored God

Today was a marvelous intersection doing very little, but taking away quite a bit.

Upon our arrival in Beijing, our visiting professor, Joel, approached those of us inclined to attend Sunday services with a very intriguing plan about how we could experience the Mainland China flavor of such an experience without a great deal of hassle or possible trouble. Long story short, Joel & I woke up at 5 AM this morning and went to one of the official churches registered with the Chinese government. The journey to and fro started the adventure–-it involved switching taxis halfway there, driving around the central government compound (where the real stuff happens, if you know what I man) of the Beijing power center, and passing platoons of PLA soldiers out for a morning march.

The service itself was in the Catholic tradition–a custom that being respectful of was further complicated by the entirety of the proceedings being conducted in Mandarin. It was particularly awkward–yet worth a good chuckle–when Joel & I realized about halfway through the service that the congregation had segregated itself into a male section and a female section… and of course, we had chosen the wrong side of the aisle. My Catholic background of early childhood proved very helpful as I sought to decipher what was being said, and with some gracious assistance of Joel, was able to follow along with expected elements such as the Lord’s Prayer, the Liturgy of Communion, and some other Scripture readings.

All in all, a very, very fascinating experience. I was able to purchase a bilingual New Testament after the service at the church bookstore–certainly something I did not expect. Though I couldn’t understand enough to discern the theology being presented, it was quite an education in the Chinese religious experience.

That’s all for now… thanks for reading! I hope to have photos and videos available in the coming hours and days…