This is the story of my travels around the world. It started out in January 2007, although the events leading up to it were many, as were the days working around the clock. What unfolded as I moved from continent to continent is a string of tales, meetings and friendships that I could never have imagined… and that could not possibly be shared in one sitting! So, take a look around, and come back, as more stories are coming!
Strolling Buenos Aires' Porto Madero
This time we go straight back to Giramondo, now my second home, where my friend Emanuel is waiting for us. Emanuel and I had a pact before I left for Iguazu, we would go and cut our hair off (yes, I mean short!) together. But Emanuel has chickened out, and I am a little relieved. In all fairness, our deal was that we would go do it on Thursday, when I got back… but we are back on Saturday. And I really don’t blame him. He has really beautiful hair. He just wouldn’t look like Emanuel without it.
And… it’s time for Bill to get back to the rat race. I see him off in a taxi, my first friend who left the US to travel with me somewhere… our friendship is forever changed, I don’t know when I will see him again, and I hope that traveling with me didn’t ruin the whole concept for him…
Drinking Irishmen in charge of the bbq: they nearly blew the roof off!
Andres and Analisa are gone… they left for Uruguay before we went to Iguazu, and are already back in Colombia. The other Andres, my roommate, has moved into his apartment. Christian, my sixteen year old fan, from Colombia, who is here to try out for a soccer team and his mother, are still here, which keeps the place from being completely empty and sad. My cute admirer, he saves me breakfast even though I wake up too late. I meet a couple of really great Americans, Rachel, this frigging cool chick from Nebraska who is teaching English here for a while before going back to the States to teach, and Anthony, who lives in New York and is just here for a week filming a Pepsi commercial. We wander out together in search of some great restaurant Anthony’s agent raves about, which is closed, and end up finding a lovely place with a peaceful terrace where we spend about four hours talking over lunch.
Recoleto, Buenos Aires' world famous cemetery
This time back in my favorite place, I’ve got three crazy Irishmen in my room. Actually, I initially thought there were more, it is tough to tell, as there is a lot of Stuff spread out everywhere, and the only times I ever see them in the room, they are sleeping. We finally meet on their last night, and they are quite insistent that I join them for a barbecue on the roof. They’ve bought more meat than even three large savages can manage, and so I come, along with two German girls, and quickly find out that my skills as English-to-English translator are quite useful. The German girls speak impeccable English but can’t keep up with the accent and the slang of the rambunctious Irishmen.
Avenida 9 de Julio, widest street in the world
We hit the town later in search of live music, make it to San Telmo, the busy, bustling neighborhood with street performers, markets, bars and al fresco tango shows… we finally find a place with live music and sit down just as the band starts packing up. And it turns into another night of American music played really loud in another bar in another country which doesn’t call English its mother tongue.
We walk along the world’s widest street, Buenos Aires’ Avenida 9 de Julio, named in honor of Argentina’s Independence Day, July 9, 1816. With its nine lanes of traffic in each direction, you probably want to wait for the light to cross, even if there isn’t a cop lurking about hungry to give jaywalking tickets.
So, I’ve killed a good deal of time in Buenos Aires… and it is a fantastic place to do so… but I’ve heard legend of Punta del Este, and I must see it for myself. Also the Irishmen are gone and so the entertainment value has plummeted.I have a new roommate, Australian Rowan, and we click instantly. After having some great steaks at Cabrera’s, walking all over Buenos Aires for the umpteenth time, a tango lesson, and some San Telmo shopping, it’s time to see something new, and Rowan accompanies me to Punta del Este.
Iguazu Falls, Argentina: A photo just can't do this place justice, but here you go
Plans change all the time; there will be hiccups along the way when you’re traveling, and if you can’t roll with it, you’ll just end up making yourself and everyone around you miserable. If you DO roll with it, what I’ve found personally is that every time I screw up, something amazing happens. I met fantastic people, go to some incredible place I hadn’t planned on, etc. It’s kind of like the story of the Indian brave whose horse fell and broke his leg. A couple of days later, all the other braves go to battle, while he is stuck back at home with his broken leg, lamenting that he can’t go. Every single brave dies in the battle, and so his broken leg saves his life.
Ok, it’s not always life or death, but you get the point. Mistakes bring the unexpected, and the unexpected can bring delight. So back to my story…
We had originally tried to get directly from Salta to Puerto Iguazu, found that you must fly to Buenos Aires, or take a 24 hour bus ride from Salta. So we booked flights to and out of Buenos Aires, then cancelled the flights to Iguazu because we couldn’t find anywhere to stay… everything was booked up for some holiday.
just a little mist
Finally, we get on a bus. At our first stop, there a couple of hot girls sitting outside at the station, and they’re flirting with Bill, who is sitting behind me on the bus. I tell him he will receive endless shit from me if he doesn’t get off the bus and go talk to them… so he does, but without a pen… he runs back to the bus, our driver doesn’t want to let him back on, and so Bill rushes to his seat and scrawls his number down as we pull away, then can’t get the window open. I guess the lesson learned is if you go hit on someone as your bus is pulling away, have a pen handy!
It’s an 18-hour ride, coche cama, and let me just say, Argentine buses are the best in the world! It’s just like a first class seat on an airplane… a three course hot meal accompanied by wine, followed by champagne, and happily buzzed and full, we stretch out to lay flat, all cozy with soft blankets and fluffy pillows. Movies play constantly, but if you don’t feel like plugging in your headset, you don’t have to hear it.
We check in to the gorgeous Hostel Inn, which feels more like a resort than a hostel, with a huge, beautiful, kidney-shaped pool, surrounded by a million lounge chairs, hammocks, a bar… and inside a café/bar, travel agency, pool table, and mini library.
rock climbing at Iguazu Falls
We do a mini adventure tour which includes scaling a mountain, zip lining, and a boat ride with some cliff diving before we get to the intersecting point where Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay meet.
We return to the hostel quite ready for the feast which is awaiting us. It is a huge barbecue and a delicious salad bar. Free caipirinhas are flowing, and the meat continues to float by on a huge platter, from which we find the nice red jugoso pieces… Then the dancing begins. A Brazilian dancer in a gorgeous outfit which includes more head- and foot-gear than clothing performs, a conga line ensues, and somehow we wake up in the hammocks near the pool around 4am. Gotta get up early to see those waterfalls. They better be worth it!
Indeed, the waterfalls are amazing! This is, I believe, the greatest quantity of water flowing through any one place in the world. Or something like that. Anyway, it’s huge. You could spend an entire day, eight hours, walking around here, just to see all of the falls. However, we determine that the time estimates are for the dawdlers and the less athletic. We see everything, including The Devil’s Throat and Isla San Martin, a little island in the middle of the park, in six hours, and manage to squeeze into an earlier shuttle back home.
In the Iguazu River, where three countries meet: Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay
Our first dinner in Puerto Iguazu town was so amazing, we simply have to return to the restaurant one more time before leaving. Lena and Christian meet us there, a fantastic Norwegian couple that we met on yesterday’s tour and bumped into at the park today. It’s not even weird anymore, bumping into people… after leaving a restaurant at Plaza Serrano in Buenos Aires and hearing someone calling out my name, and Gilad appearing out of nowhere… and walking down the street near Recoleta and bumping into Pete and Jim, it almost seems normal to just run right into people you thought you’d never see again. What does surprise me, is that Christian and Lena actually find this restaurant with the directions Bill has given them… something about a gas station and a red sign… it’s a guy thing, I guess!
ready to demolish an amazing Argentine buffet
Dinner is nothing short of amazing, and Christian and Lena are great company. Somehow there are more empty bottles of wine on our table than people in the restaurant by the time we leave, saying our good-byes with hugs and promises to visit each other. I tell Lena I probably won’t make it to Norway this year, and she says that’s okay, I simply have to promise to make it there within the next ten years… ? Ha! Even I can commit to that! Listo!
And, of course, in the morning we are off to Buenos Aires again… back in our coche cama for another nice, long, comfy ride with a couple of American movies, subtitulada for your learning pleasure. Oh how I love Via Bariloche!
mannequin fans salute Boca
Bill and I arrive in Buenos Aires with no reservation and not a clue where to go, except for the same resounding advice from everyone who has lived here: go to Palermo! So, we get on a local bus to Plaza Italia, and soon find that everyone else in the world is visiting the city now too, and consequently the hostels are full. Finally, frustrated, tired and sweaty, I leave Bill in a café with all of our bags and search the area… until, after much more rejection, I find Giramondo… our new home. Emanuel is too lovely to try to describe right now; suffice it to say, he is my savior at this point. I collect Bill and we check in to our rooms. I instantly hit it off with my roommate Andres, and Bill is sharing with (another) Andres and his mom, Analisa.
Analisa is an excellent tourist. With her and Andres, we do a bus tour of the city, see a soccer match (Boca Jrs vs Colon), go to Tierra Santa (Biblical theme park; okay, that one I could have skipped!), see a tango show, hang out in Parc Hollanda … and visit the famous Recoleta cemetery, which is full of gorgeous mausoleums. It’s so cool, it looks like a miniature New York. When we’re not on the whirlwind sightseeing tour with Analisa and Andres, Bill and I hit the city on foot, with (the other) Andres when we can wake him up. Working in a bar until 5am means he has a pretty weird sleep schedule, but we manage to have some nice lazy lunches together.
And at the end of each day, when all of the sightseeing is done, we somehow all end up at Sugar, the bar where (the other) Andres works, and we even dance a little, even though Andres is still on crutches after knee surgery.
tango in the streets of San Telmo
Sunday is the soccer match… ahahaha we are going to see the Boca Jrs play!!! I am not one to get too excited about just any old soccer match (unless it’s during World Cup), but we are going to see Boca Jrs! They are playing Colon, and we’ve gotten tickets through the hostel, apparently they are impossible to come by otherwise, and this is thus far the most expensive thing I’ve done in Argentina. It’s about $50 US, and includes transportation, a guide and lunch. Our guide is a slightly chaotic but lovely, enthusiastic Argentine man who explains to us in broken English about the some of the sights, the team’s colors, and that Colon is a really bad team. Lunch is choripan, (sausage sandwich), with chimchirri (Argentine salsa), and Coca Cola. This is not a country for vegetarians!
Our seats are cement stairs high up above, and behind, one of the goals. It doesn’t matter. No one sits for the entire game. These, Boca Jr fans, are reputed to be the most fanatical fans in the world. This is the reason given for the fact that no alcohol is served anywhere in the stadium. Before the game, millions of little tiny Argentine flags float down to the field like a beautiful snowstorm of confetti. They enthusiastically sing a love song to the team throughout the entire game, and when they score a goal, they shout in unison, This is for you, and for the bitch who gave birth to you!
in one of Buenos Aires' many parks
When it’s over, we have to stay at our seats for a long time, as they wait for the other team’s fans to leave first to avoid any altercations. It is an amazing and memorable experience, and I am pretty well ready for a nap… but Analisa has asked if I would like to go to Tierra Santa with her and Andres, and it is their last night here, so I go. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It’s a Bible theme park, complete with a 50-meter tall Jesus rising out of the top of a building. I am too tired to be really enchanted by all of this, but what really gets me is the bus ride.
Not until tonight, her last night, does Analisa tell me about the work she does with the kids in Guatemala. She runs sort of a shelter there where they help kids with all sorts of crazy and horrible conditions at home. She is so passionate about it, as she is telling me about the stuff these kids deal with, and how they are trying to help them but don’t have adequate facilities, I just want to cry. I am biting my lips and staring out the window, and I have this overwhelming feeling, I just have to do something to help these kids, and this woman who works so hard, without the funding, or the buildings, or the help she needs.
It’s obvious where Andres’ innate goodness comes from; I already know that he sponsors not one, but three, kids in the town in Colombia where he lives. But it’s not that Sally Struthers Save the Children crap on late night TV. He doesn’t just send money, he actually goes and picks the kids up from school a couple of times a month when he gets off work early on Fridays, and spends time with them. Between the two of them I am completely inspired, and saying good-bye triggers a flow of waterworks that despite my my most concerted efforts, I can’t control.
enjoying Salta
Salta is a breath of fresh air after the craziness of Cordoba. I’ve been looking for a tranquil place, and this is it. I go with the first tout who speaks to me at the bus station, and I end up at Kaskai Hostel. It is in a very quiet residential area in the northeast part of town, away from everything you might want to see. My room is already occupied by three Israeli girls fresh out of the army, but by the way their things are strewn about all over the room, including even on unclaimed beds, you would think there were a dozen of them. Doesn’t matter though, because they are gone all day, and come back just to get gussied up and go out again.
It is a lovely town to walk around. There isn’t a lot to see, except for a couple of nice squares that during siesta, hold as many people as a Chinese subway car… but quiet was all I wanted. Bill will arrive in a day or two from Los Angeles, and I can go out and party then. Meanwhile, I’m just soaking this up and enjoying a quiet day to myself. In the morning I sit outside to read my book, and within about half an hour’s time, I am mercilessly eaten by the six legged inhabitants of Kaskai Hostel. I have bites that look like no bite I’ve ever had before. I pack my stuff and move to Andaluz Hostel, which is in the middle of everything and whose amazing receptionist welcomes me like I am an old friend. It also is right across the street from a really good empanada place; I think I’ve pretty well had my fill of empanadas by now, but I can’t deny my fondness for convenience. Here I meet a Spanish man who used to be an art professor but now travels around the world drawing caricatures for a living, and a Frenchman who is now travelling with him and trying to learn to do the same.
colorful architecture in Salta
The next day, Bill arrives in a spectacular cloud of dust, and in a disoriented state which is the product of 36 hours of sleeplessness combined with being in a foreign country for the very first time (if you live in Los Angeles, drunken weekends in Mexico do not count!). He instantly has a fan club of female admirers which includes all the girls who work there, as well as Monica, a hot little Chiquita friend of theirs, who becomes our pub crawl leader. Sangria and Pisco Sours are flowing, and for the Spaniard who at 48 has never had a drink, orange Fanta.
We find musica en vivo, a Reggae band singing live in Spanish, which is pretty much the first Spanish music I have heard besides with Gabriel. I am constantly amazed that no matter where you go, when you go out, you always hear English music. It is a refreshing and welcome change. The bar is packed and everyone is dancing, including the older lady who must be on speed, but she is winning the race in her head as she kicks her legs up with vigor, and the chubby girls who stay close to the stage, presumably hoping to be noticed by the band.
The next day is Saint Patrick’s Day, and we have a couple of Quilmes beers in an Irish pub. I’d waited for Bill to go see La Mummia, the 15 year old girl they found perfectly preserved in the dry heat in some mountain nearby. But, just my luck, it’s closed today, and we fly tomorrow. We hike up to the top of a mountain overlooking the city, with some beautifully manicured gardens and some manmade waterfalls and take the cable car back down. On our way back into town, I bump into the Israeli girls from the other hostel. You were smart to leave, they tell me. One girl’s feet are completely covered with nasty bites the size and shape of a pea.
Back in town, there is some event going on involving a loudspeaker, so we search for a quiet place until we find a little Italian restaurant with a really chatty waiter who is completely obsessed with American music.
Che Guevara
After a long, uncomfortable overnight bus ride, I arrive with a stiff neck and check into the first hostel which has a bed immediately available. It is sort of a shady looking place, but I don’t care. After a snooze, I have lunch with the guys who work there, and then I walk around and explore the city, not returning until both my feet are crying for a bucket of ice. I meet a Swiss girl, Sara, who speaks five languages, we have some dinner together and go to check out the nightlife with a group from the hostel.
Cordoba is something like 90 percent students and filled with bars. Whenever anyone speaks of Cordoba, it is always described as a party town. Sara effortlessly switches back and forth between languages with no problem, and I really wish I had made an effort to learn Spanish at some point in my life before now.
Oddly, the only person from our group who speaks not one word of English, Juan, offers to show me around the town tomorrow. I completely forget (or, don’t realize we actually made “plans”) but Juan shows up bright and early and waits for me to eat breakfast. Somehow we manage to get around and communicate with my terrible Spanish (trust me, I am NOT exaggerating on this one!) Juan is from Mexico and is opening a taqueria, and wants me to come back to Argentina next year and work with him. We go shopping—Cordoba is not just a party place, but a shopping mecca as well. I’m looking for English books and instead find a keychain which I’m going to make into a necklace.
church murals
Next we’re off to Alta Gracia to see Che Guevara’s house. Alta Gracia is a little town about 40 minutes outside the city, and it is where Che grew up. Juan’s roommate arranges my bus ticket to Salta, leaving that night. She speaks some Italian, which at this point I still understand better than Spanish, and the other roommate speaks some French… by the end of the day I realize that I’ve spoken three different languages today, and none of them is English. No wonder my head hurts! Still, I feel a fantastic sort of achievement at being able to communicate in another language, even if my speaking skills are probably as good as a three year old… maybe! Juan sees me off at the bus station and reminds me that he is waiting for my return next year.
Mendoza, Argentina
The bus ride through the Andes is beautiful and cold. At the border, shivering as we wait first to get through immigration, then have our bags screened, I meet Lori, Pete, Jim and Gilad. Lori and Pete are a couple from Utah and Jim is Pete’s best friend. Lori, Pete, Jim and I end up in a room together at the Mendoza Inn. Little do I know this cramped, four square meter room is the Party Room. Gilad, an Israeli student living in Texas who misses his truck more than anything else, takes us to a parilla for our first Argentine barbeque. I try intestine and some other parts I haven´t had before, and somehow the six of us (including our new friend Ursula) polish off five fabulous bottles of Argentina’s prized Malbec wine.
After more days of drinking and wandering around the city, I am ready to do something productive. Prada had mentioned a sunset horseback riding thing, which sounds really good, so I sign up for that, and so do the others, even the fabulous Lori, who has been thrown off every time she’s been on a horse for the last ten years.
getting the horses ready to ride into the sunset
The next morning I wake up with a rash from my chest to my knees… I am red and speckly, sort of like just after a crazy workout… sort of a tortoiseshell pattern, but the only workout I’ve had as of late is climbing up to my top bunk bed. I head to a pharmacist, who doesn’t even bat an eye as he hands me Benadryl. Apparently alcohol poisoning is a fairly common occurrence here. No more wine for me!
I’m not sure if I should do the horseback riding, but I really don’t want to miss it, so I swallow some extra Benadryl and we’re off. We get to the stables around 6pm and ride off into… the rain! It rains on us! It’s still a beautiful ride, and we’re on the home stretch and Lori is still in her saddle, when mine starts slipping. One foot is 18 inches closer to the ground than the other. Thinking we are closer to the stables than we are, I just keep holding on… until, a kilometer or two away from our destination, I am nearly on the ground! My saddle has slipped completely to one side and I am barely hanging on, with one leg stretched over the horse’s back. “Gabriel!” I shout out, but he is at the front of the group and must be too far away. Not knowing the other gaucho’s name, I yell out “Senor! Ayudame!” and within seconds, Gabriel is there. He is off his horse in half a second, pulls me off my horse, and redoes the saddle. An hour later, we are all standing around the barbeque pit trying to warm up and dry our clothes as they get our dinner ready. Gauchos indeed do the best barbecue.
Indeed, it is an unforgettable meal, after which we meet Gabriel for some fantastic artesanal beers, which I will desperately search for from that day on. The next day my new friend Gabriel gets me an emergency appointment with his dentist… who searches my x-rays and studies my teeth, perplexed as to why my U.S. dentist told me I have a huge cavity! Relaxed with new peace of mind, I spend a couple more days, sober (!) wandering around Mendoza with Gabriel. I could stay here forever, but after a week, I need to move on. The clock is ticking and I only have three weeks left.
Valparaiso: Chile's San Francisco
I am told that Valparaíso is amazing, so with huge expectations and a hope that my opinion of this thus-far lacklustre country will be transformed, I get on a bus to go check it out.
People compare Valparaiso to San Francisco, and from a distance it is easy to see why. Colorful houses are sprinkled along the side of a mountain overlooking a huge port. Beautiful new mansions are wedged in between crumbling old houses which still whisper charm from bygone days. Hundreds of stairs line the steep streets that snake up the mountain. I wander around, see some cool street art and murals, get an empanada, and look for the beach. However, the only water next to Valparaiso is the port, which is certainly not a nice place to sunbathe and relax, although there actually are quite a few people hanging out there. The area next to the port is dirty and chaotic, filled with traffic, thickly polluted air and the noise of constantly crowded sidewalks as people rush about in every direction. I´m disappointed after being told Valparaiso is a beautiful place not to be missed.
I am eager to get to Argentina, so I am in bed early (well, one o´clock after drinks on the rooftop terrace with the girls, is early for here) so I can check out the funicular thing before getting a bus to Mendoza.
Santiago, Chile at sunset
Arrival in Santiago… I hadn´t planned on going to Chile, but here I am because I couldn´t get on a flight to Buenos Aires. For this reason, I haven´t had a chance to look online for a place to stay, so I have no idea where I am going. I really not happy about this reciprocity thing either; it costs me $131 US to land here, thanks to the US charging the same ridiculous fees to Chileans entering the country. Stinking reciprocity. I get in a taxi and end up at a crappy hostel in the center.
I meet a couple of guys from New Zealand and we explore together a bit, which is a good thing, because I stand out here and the boys are a good protection. Strangely, I am the “Spanish speaker” in our group… only because I know how to say “Yo quiero” and “Donde esta”, which is really the extent of my Spanish. I am able to take some Italian and French words and change them a bit and sort of get by. I have my first Pisco sour, which tastes like that cheap margarita mix you buy by the gallon which somehow tastes like musty cardboard that´s been sitting in an attic somewhere. Pisco, a white brandy, is the national drink and they are very proud of it (there is an ongoing war with Peru over who actually invented it). I am very disappointed.
micro-brew beer selection
After a breakfast of toast and watery coffee, the three of us take the metro to Plaza Brazil, where Happy House hostel is located. It´s clean and beautiful and new, and nearly double the price but we don´t care. There are also a group of girls (none Italian) who only speak Italian to each other after spending a semester abroad there. A pretty one named Sara from Finland and lovely Elena from Brazil hang out with the rest of us, but their unattractive friend can’t stand to not be the center of attention, and so she speaks only to the local boys who are too polite to extract themselves.
My friend Leon is in Santiago, living with his Chilean girlfriend and teaching English, so we get together for some pool and artesanal beer… and the beer is worth writing about!
K´vaz is a local delicious beer that, while divine alone, paired with chocolate might be even better, if that is possible. I wander around with the New Zealand boys looking for some good Chilean food. We end up sitting down at a lovely restaurant that is out of everything we try to order. I end up with a shrimp omelette, which is literally an egg pancake with a can of rock shrimp dumped inside. It is the grossest meal I can remember. However, the service is excellent and they even give us gringos a free round of wine.
It’s hard to turn on the TV or open a paper without reading something about China. The questionable human rights record, the Beijing Olympics or Shanghai Expo, and of course the fastest economic growth in the history of civilization. There is so much information on this country floating out there its hard to tell what the truth is.
The fact is, I don’t know either. This is not a country with easy answers. It is modernizing rapidly but has perhaps the longest history in the world. It has some of the world’s largest cities, but still has a small town feel. It can feel crowded or incredibly empty. There really is only one way to describe China, the world’s largest contradiction. At moments the country makes you want to bang your head against the wall, but at sometimes it gives you a sense of calming and fulfillment that you can only truly get being far away from home. The real joy of China is finding your own ways to see the contradictions.
If you aren’t sure where to start to look, here are the nice places and experiences that should help grant a bit of clarity into what China is all about.
Unquestionably a must for anyone who come to this country. The capital is an excellent and through summary for the entire nation. It has new wealth, especially after the 2008 Olympics, yet it is full of history with such relics as the Forbidden City, and of course the aptly named Great Wall. This city has a phenomenal energy that makes you want more.
Beijing is of course the crown jewel of China’s history, however it does not begin or end there. Other major locations to get a good glimpse at China’s magnificent past include the Terracotta Warriors in Xi’an, the Silk Road in the West, the Tibetan Capital of Lhasa, and far more locations than I could begin to fully list in this short post.
With its varied landscape, colourful cultures, and cute pandas, Guangxi, Yunnan, and Sichuan provinces are absolute musts for anyone coming to the Middle Kingdom. With a myriad of sights including the magical peaks of Guilin, Tiger Leaping Gorge, and the Panda Research Centre, it is easy to see why the Chinese Southwest is quickly becoming one of the hottest backpacker trails in the world.
Everyone knows that China has a population of somewhere around 1.3 billion and counting, but what people tend to forget is that the population of the Han Chinese makes up 90% or so of the total population. While this seems like a very homogeneous population, the Hans are primarily located on the East Coast and in the Centre of the country. This leaves the other 130 million non-Han people (note: that’s three Canadas worth of people) located mainly on the outside of the country, including Tibet, Xinjiang, Inner Mongolia, and the aforementioned Yunnan. It is simply fascinating to see the portions of the country where China seems to end and turn into something different all together.
Forget everything that you know about Chinese food! The majority of Chinese food in the west usually originates in Guangdong Province and is very Americanized. Chinese food has a variety of different regional styles, from “Numb and Sore” food from Sichuan, to the sweet food from Suzhou, it’s exciting to find the style that suits you best.
While it can be hard to see now, a little over 120 years ago China was getting carved up into various European colonies and treaty ports. When Macau returned to China in 1999 that era ended, however the influence is still very much felt in parts of the country today. The most famous of these places is of course Hong Kong, which feels like a beautiful mix of England and mainland China. There are plenty more places including the Portuguese Macau, German Qingdao, or Russian Haerbin. However the most cosmopolitan is definitely Shanghai, as it has French, British, and Japanese areas which can still be found today.
The Yangtze river comes to an end at Shanghai, but the entire region around the city, making up Jiangsu and Zhejiang provinces are well worth a visit two. This area includes the two cities that Marco Polo labeled as “Heaven on Earth” Hangzhou, and (my home) Suzhou.
One of the many contradictions of China is that it is home to three of the world’s major religions (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism) yet it is the most openly secular nation in the world. While the government is officially atheist, there are people in the nation who are very spiritual. Some of the best places to see this spirituality include the five Taoist Holy Mountains (Song Shan, Tai Shan, Hua Shan, Nan Heng Shan, and Bei Heng Shan) or the four Buddhist Holy Mountains (Emei Shan, Wutai Shan, Putuo Shan, and Jiuhua Shan). While I can’t speak about all of these nine mountains the ones that I have been to are absolutely spectacular and I can’t wait to find out about all of them.
Mandarin Chinese is an incredibly difficult language, but it is well worth the effort. Learning bits about the language has helped me learn a bit more about the culture and vice-verse. Also, the locals will be thrilled with any progress in the language and will be ecstatic with even the simplest “ni hao”.
About the Author: Glen met Celine met in the charming Chinese city of Pingyao while they were both wandering the world. After sharing a few bottles of Tsingtao they realized that they had a great deal in common. Then in August 2008 Glen has realized that he can’t stay away from the Middle Kingdom, where he works in Suzhou as a teacher in an International School. In his spare time he rambles about China at the popular Chinese blog Lost Lao Wai.
parliament, London
Museums are free! and London has some of the best museums in the world. The Tate Modern and the British Museum are absolute musts. The Victoria and Albert Museum (V&ZA) is impressive, and also worthwhile are the Natural History Museum, and the Museum of London.
Don’t take taxis. Walk where you can, take the bus, or buy an Oyster Pass for the metro (the famous Underground, the Tube). You pay something like five pounds deposit for the pass, then you buy credit for it, and travel for a lot less. Last time I checked, a one way ride on the tube costed four pounds!
Eat a big lunch. If you’re eating out, try to make lunch your big meal of the day and get buy with something light, fast (cheap!) for dinner.
Get out of London and see the rest of the country! If you’re planning to explore outside London (and you should!), try booking a bus online ahead of time. Fares can be as cheap as five (yes, 5!) pounds if you book enough in advance. Most other towns in England are much less expensive than London.
