Waiting in Hong Kong

Good morning.

We have arrived at the Cathey Pacific lounge after 13 1/2 hours of head winds slamming against our 747.  Had interesting seats aligned diagonally along both sides of the upstairs cabin.  Each seat was divided by a pony wall that kept each of us totally separated from the seats on either side.  somewhat confining and not at all convivial, the space was well organized, comfortable and nest like.  When I wanted to sleep the seat slid into a flat, full length bed.  Two pillows, a blanket and my happy body slept for a solid 6 hours after a mediocre lunch and catching up on weeks of magazines.  After the intense and stressful last several weeks, I am ready to relax.   Mark, did not like the bed too well.  He could not get comfortable and slept only 4 hours fitfully.

Soon we walk a mile to our next plane and last let to Delhi.  At this point we just want to get the travel ordeal behind us.

Bye for now.  Julia

Map of India

Map of India


Oshkosh and Music -July-August, 2011

August 8, 2011

Gustavo Dudamel rehearsing LA Philharmonic

Music and Airplanes are two of our favorite pastimes.  We were lucky to have both on our recent travels around the country.  Mark and I left the Nevada County Airport (GOO) on July 19 and enjoyed an uneventful flight to Burbank.  That evening we attended a LA Philharmonic symphony at the Hollywood Bowl with 10,000 other lucky people.  We were treated to a very special rendition of Mozart’s Fifth Concerto with the violinist, Gil Shaham, giving a sublime performance with Gustavo Dudamel enthusiastically conducting.   Next day we met the LA Philharmonic Librarian, the son of a friend of ours in Grass Valley, at the new, incredibly unique and stunning Disney Concert Hall in LA and were treated to another hour of music in the new concert hall as we watched Dudamel rehearse the orchestra for the next evening’s performance.  Then Steve, the Librarian, toured us around the facility and took us to his work area, the music library.  It was very impressive to see so many stacks of sheet music so meticulously cared for.  The room was like a huge vault that can be made fire proof in a few minutes while being open most of the time for access and work.  We were thrilled by the experience.

After a couple of days visiting Mark’s mother in Dana Point we drove back to Burbank to begin our flight to Oshkosh.  Our plans to be off by 7am were thwarted by unexpected fog.  We finally made it off the ground at 10am by flying north until we were clear of the fog and then headed east.  We had smooth air with 20+ knot tail winds to the Grand Canyon for our fuel stop.  Off again quickly, we continued to make good time with smooth air over the Rockies and into Lamar for our half way overnight stop.  We picked up the courtesy car and drove into the surprisingly busy town.  It looked like it was in the middle of nowhere and —as we learned from the locals–was.  One local told us most people were on their way from somewhere to somewhere else and Lamar was in the middle—exactly our situation.  Lamar is known mostly for its wind, which did not stop blowing all the while we were there.  Wind mills are the new rage in those parts.   Next day we were off early and had more good wind and air until we approached Iowa.   We began to see darkness and rain cells ahead and asked Flight Watch for an update.  A cluster of storm cells NE through SE was directly along our route and moving slowly east.  I checked places on the map and asked which ones were in the clear.  Atlantic, Iowa was just west of the storm and clear so we put down there for fuel and a break.  The only service was a phone so I spent some time talking to the briefer, who cautioned against our direct route through the Dells, Wisconsin and thought we should wait for the cell to move east.  After an hour we had had enough waiting and took off.  As we approached the Dells we knew we had to find an indirect path.  I tried going south of the cell for awhile but as we neared it I could see better to the north and so turned in that direction and pocked our way around the cell keeping the Dells about 20 miles to the east.  Eventually we were on the other side of it and made straight for Appleton.  A couple of small cells got in our way so we descended and went under them.  Once on the ground in Appleton, we discovered we missed a downpour by only 30 minutes.  A team of volunteers were ready to direct us to parking on a huge grass field and then greeted us with instructions about parking—Mark had to spend $25 to get three metal stakes to tie down the plane—, wrist bands to allow us to come back to the plane and other details.  At least there was a car to take us to the terminal, which was more than half a mile away.  At the terminal, we picked up our rental car and made reservations at a lodge on Green Lake for the night.  Finally we were off to Green Lake and a lovely room overlooking the lake, about half an hour from Oshkosh.  That night we were blown away by the incredible thunder, lightning and rain storm that settled overhead.  It was so impressive we did not want to sleep.  At that point I decided it was a good thing we had purchased the tie down stakes.

Sky writing

Next day the sun was out and the storm was but a memory.  We drove through the lovely green countryside dotted with farms, each with the ubiquitous red barn and silo, to Oshkosh.  The house we rented for the week was as advertised, except that it was not very clean.  We selected the basement room for its firm bed and cold air, dropped our bags and headed for the airport.  Even though the event did not open until Monday, we were able to get our tickets for the week and see where things were laid out.  With our handy cell phones we easily found Joe and Pat in the Fly Market.  They had had the same tail winds we enjoyed and were happily camped under their wing in the north 40.  It was too hot and humid to stand around much so we started walking and had the place pretty well figured out in a few hours.  Back at the house we met Alanna, one of our house mates and drove into town for dinner on the river at The River Run Brewery.  It was such a popular place with good food and a good location that we went there three times during the week.

Bob Hoover telling stories

The week went by quickly with much of it a hot, sticky blur.  The highlights for me were: the sea plane base, which was shady, cool and quiet; the ride Alanna and I took in the Farmers Insurance Dirigible; the air show on Tuesday, which was the best weather of theweek—clear, cooler and less humid; seeing the B-29, P-38 and Boeing 787 up close; sitting in the front row listening to Bob Hoover speak for 1 ½ hours; and our own 99 chapter dinner for 12 at The Vintage on Tuesday evening.

A cool ride

By Thursday Mark and I had had enough.  After our Dirigible ride and the 99’s photograph on Friday morning, we headed for Appleton and got off the ground in time to get to Pierre, SD by 5pm.  We expected headwinds and were presently surprised to have a small, but noticeable tail wind at 4500 feet.  Pierre was a surprise too.  It is the capital of SD with a small population of only 15,000.  The FBO was brand new and very nice.  The manager booked us into a hotel with shuttle service and soon we were seeing the damage caused by the month old flood of the Missouri River, which runs through town.  The low lying areas including parks, golf courses and many buildings were still underwater.  Sand bags were everywhere. A hastily built dyke was holding the water from flooding even more areas.  The whole town felt like a dusty, gray war zone.  The people seemed to be struggling to figure what to do.  Rain continues to fall every few days and the river could flood again if more water needs to be released from the upstream dams.  The hotel owner is already worried about what will happen next year if the water does not recede before winter and nothing gets cleaned up.  It was a very depressing place.   However, we went to a popular Italian restaurant and had one of our better meals of the trip.

We were off early on Saturday and made it all the way to Hailey, ID with mostly clear, smooth sky and no wind—so glad we had not gotten the headwind we expected.  With no prior reservations, we went to work as soon as we were in the terminal.  Mark managed to get the last available car in town and I managed to find us a room in a place called the Knob Hill Inn in Ketchum.  By 5pm we were settled into our home for the next 4 nights.  It is one of the most pleasant places we have ever stayed—pleasing to the eye, perfectly appointed room, wonderful food in the on sight restaurant and a charming, flower filled garden.   On Sunday morning we drove around the area, went for a 20 mile bike ride on the local and nearly level bike path and relaxed in our Inn.  Cindy and Don arrived at Stanley and we made plans for a hike on Monday.  They flew to Smiley Creek where we met them and drove to the top of Galena Pass, where we hiked the Titus Creek Trail through pine and fir forests to a pretty alpine lake.  High, but not too long, it was just right for our bodies to handle.  The cold lake water felt good on our feet, lunch tasted good, the walk back to the car was all downhill and all the way we kept up a constant chatter.   Then we each back to our respective homes for the evening.  Mark and I attended the opening of the Sun Valley Festival at the 5 year old outdoor Pavilion.  We learned it cost 33 Million to build and it was a splendid facility right down to the bathrooms. The symphony was good too.  During intermission we were surprised to see Kitty, who had been at Oshkosh with us.

Tuesday, we met Cindy and Don at the 4th of July Road for a hike and bike ride in the Sawtooth Mountains—Don biked one trail and the three of us hiked to Washington Lake.  This day was overcast and cool.  We had a few sprinkles, but no bother.  Three hours later we met up again, just as planned.  Again, we drove south and they drove north.

Wednesday, August 3, dawned clear and crisp.  We made an early start and were off the ground by 8am heading for GOO.  The flight was sooth and windless all the way to California.  Suddenly we had a strong head wind and lots of bumps coming over the Sierra.  I wrestled the plane to the ground at GOO and was glad to put 16498 in her hanger.  With the time change, we were back at home before noon.  It was a wonderful trip and we were both glad to have spent many happy hours flying and seeing more of our country from above.

Julia Amaral

August 3, 2011

Adventures in North and South Korea via NE China—Fall, 2010

Arriving in Pyongyang

Arriving in Pyongyang. North Korean lady next to me was my seat mate on flight.

September 17, 2010

Dear Family and Friends,

We have just boarded Air China for the short flight from Seoul to Beijing.   The long leg from San Francisco to Seoul on United was a smooth, all daylight flight with surprisingly good food and seats.   Mark watched movies and snoozed, while I read a book called “This is Paradise!” written by a young man who was born in North Korea in 1986 and tells the story of his life there, his escape into China with his parents  in 1998 and his eventual arrival in South Korea in 2002 via Viet Nam, Laos, Cambodia and Thailand.  It is a sad, even sickening tale that is all the more disturbing when I realize these events have been happening while I have enjoyed the good life we have in the USA.  Worse, these events are still happening and we are about to be in the midst of it very soon, but not likely to see much, if any, of the reality of the tale.  I would think it almost too fantastical to believe except that I have now read two other books with almost identical tales; “The Aquariums of Pyongyang” and, the best and most thoroughly documented, “Nothing to Envy”, which I recommend and encourage you all to read.  If enough people in the west knew about the atrocities that the Kim Dynasty has and continues to perpetrate on its people and spoke out about it perhaps the Regime would collapse.  Since the famine began in 1993, hundreds of thousands of North Koreans have fled to China and most remain there illegally while trying to work and meld into Chinese society and avoid being arrested by the Chinese police and sent back to North Korea, where they know they will be put into penal gulags or executed.  Some of the North Koreans who have escaped and made it to South Korea , approximately 10,000,  are doing their best to spread the word and hoping Korea will be reunited within the next 10 years “or so”.

It is a long story and I am getting ahead of myself.   After weeks of wondering if we would be approved to enter North Korea, finally, early this morning at the El Rancho Motel, we learned by email from our travel agent, Winnie,  that our visas to North Korea were approved.   Although we have been excited for months about this adventure we are embarking upon, we were also nervous about the prospect of being in the Hermit Country and getting permission to enter it.    What would we do if we got to Beijing and could not go to N.K.?  Thankfully, that is no longer an issue.  Now I just need to concern myself with my own behavior while there.  Hmmm.

It is finally dark and we are about to land in Beijing after having a non-descript Korean, or was it Chinese, meal?  Next stop, the Raffles Hotel and a good night’s sleep.   Tomorrow we have a full day of sightseeing in the capital city…things we have not seen before.

September 18, 2010

Our bags came off the carrousel early and we had no trouble passing through immigrations.  The crush hit when we went to get a taxi.  There were four lines, each four abreast and about 300 feet long.  It took us an hour to get to the head of the line.  Then our taxi driver could not understand where we wanted to go in spite of the Chinese directions we had for him.  Finally Mark remembered the city map he had kept from our last visit to Raffles Hotel and showed that to the driver.  He recognized the symbol and we were on our way.   An hour more and we were finally at Raffles and the room we had hoped for.  Dropped into be.

This morning at 9am we met our Beijing guide, Emily, after a leisurely breakfast.  Outdoors we encountered a cool, overcast and rainy day.  This was preferable over the heat and humidity we experienced here in July so no complaints on our part.  Our first stop was the 15th century Ming Dynasty building complex called the Temple of Heaven.   It includes a series of round buildings representing heaven and square walls representing earth.  It appears the Chinese believed the earth was square for many centuries. This complex, along with many other touristy places in the city, were all beautifully re-painted prior to the 2008 Summer Olympics.  The circular roofs have deep blue tiles and the walls have many dragon and phoenix motifs that represent the emperor and empress from the Ming and Qing period.  The large, peaceful garden is full of cypress trees that are marked to indicate their age.   There were several over 500 years old and still hanging on.   It was a pretty place and worth lingering, but for the rain and the huge crowds of Chinese tourists.   From there we drove to a vast outdoor shopping area called the “Dirt Market”.   Hundreds of vendors were packed side by side in clusters peddling similar products such as jade, bronzes, furniture, porcelain…most anything except food.  The place was packed with people, again mostly Chinese.   We found the whole scene overwhelming and Mark and I both had trouble focusing on such an excess of stuff.  Our eyes did get caught by a small, black and white photo store and we spent time looking at the many photos, talking with the photographer, and buying 3 small images we will add to our photo gallery.   From there we went to lunch at a dumpling restaurant, Emily’s favorite, and proceeded to stuff ourselves on the tasty hand-made-to-order morsels we watched being made.   Our next stop was the Lao She Tea House for a mixed performance of opera singing, magic, comedy and bowl juggling.  The best act was the bowl juggling so you can imagine what a bust that was.  At least the tea was hot and tasty.  Next!  When we got outdoors, the rain had stopped and the sun was out; time to go for a stroll down the nearby street called Chien Men.  It is a fully rebuilt pedestrian shopping street with all the store facades replicating the original look of the street.  It too was done in time for the Olympics, was attractive and photogenic and packed with Chinese shoppers…mostly lookers as I did not see many people carrying bags.   Emily and the driver dropped us at the hotel at 5pm.  We still had some energy so we went for a walk down Wangfujing, the local neighborhood pedestrian street, until we came to the cross street with the famous Night Market where vendors are lined up to sell a very odd assortment of deep fried “foods” neither Mark or I would eat…including worms, scorpions, snakes, crickets.  We watched some young Americans trying the scorpion and not finishing it.  Even the sugar coated fruit sticks did not appeal.   Although the street did not appear dirty, we questioned the sanitary aspect, and the smell of the whole area was unsavory and repelling.  It was, however, a good place to take photos, which, thankfully, will not expose viewers to the aroma.

Again, the crowds on the shopping streets and in the malls are overwhelming.  Where do they all come from? Where do they live?  Emily lives 50 minutes away by subway in a 900 square foot apartment she owns with her husband and baby daughter.   She commutes into the City every day and says she has to wait in line a long time just to get on the train.  She says many people live even further away and also make the commute.   I asked her if the crowds bother her and she said she cannot imagine being alone and would never want to be by herself.   Lucky for her.  She and her husband purchased their 90 square meter apartment for 600,000 yuan.  She figures they will pay off the mortgage within 20 years.  She has no plan to move as the apartment is just fine for her small family.  (Translation: about 1000 square feet for $100,000)

Now Mark is sound asleep and I better join him soon.  It is nice staying in a familiar place.  Our room is just two doors down from the room we enjoyed in July.  I had thought to stay in a different location, but Mark wanted the tried and true.  It was a good choice.

September 21, 2010

Yesterday was crammed with sightseeing as the Museum we were to see today turns out to be closed on Mondays.  So we were out at 8:15am drove to the Hou Hai Lake district to visit a hutong, an old residential neighborhood.  There we took a rickshaw ride through the meandering narrow alleyways with high walls and random doorways.  We stopped at one and Emily went inside.  There was a nice courtyard surrounded by small rooms used for sleeping, cooking, eating and visiting.  Four people lived in the one we saw.  The water source is a well in the courtyard, but there is no plumbing so the family must use the public facilities nearby and go to a bath house when they want to clean up.  Each house had an air conditioner and heaters and the alleyways were swept clean. Now that the people are becoming more affluent and the government wants a pleasing front, life is looking up even if the hutong dwellers do not have indoor toilets and bathtubs.  According to Emily it is cheap to rent a room in hutong as families are much smaller now and there are many extra rooms.  However it is very expensive to buy one as they are near downtown and have cache.   It was fun watching Chinese tourists ride in the rickshaws.  Emily said it is a novelty for them as rickshaw travel used o be only for rich people and officials.

From Hou Hai we went a short distance to the Lama Temple to see the 55 foot tall Maitreya, or Future, Buddha made from á single block of sandalwood.  It was in a very nice looking, gold colored Buddha.  As an active Temple, there were many people praying and burning incense.

From there we headed diagonally SW across the city to get to the Beijing Capital Museum.   We managed to spend about 1 ½ hours visiting a wonderful collection of Chinese porcelain laid out chronologically from the Song Dynasty through the Qing Dynasty and a well presented Chinese historical and cultural relics exhibition.  I could have stayed longer for sure.  Mark, of course, covered more floors and was finished long before I was.  Emily waited with him.  We did not get into the Chinese art wing at all.  The museum was built in 2006, is interesting to see in and of itself.  The place is spacious and the exhibits well-laid out.

Back in the van we drove NW to the Summer Palace in time for our lunch date at the new Aman Resort’s restaurant.  The food was very good and the prices were over the top.  Guess we should have expected as much.  The Summer Palace was lovely, though not as wonderful as I remembered it from 1981 when I first visited with my parents.  Even the Marble Boat did not look as splendid.  Still, we had a pleasant walk around the place along with the thousands of other people doing the same.

After all that activity and a traffic jam on the way to the hotel, we were still home by 5:40pm.  That was when we learned that the hotel staff could not make our computer send messages over Outlook Express and that is where all your addresses are listed.  So, after much frustration, I let go of being able to send messages.  Maybe it will be possible in South Korea.  Meanwhile, I will keep writing.   We changed and walked a short distance to a Mongolian Hot Pot restaurant, thinking we would have a good and interesting meal.  Boy was that a mistake.  The place was noisy and not very pleasant, we were seated next to the air-conditioning machine; the food was very uninteresting and tasted of peanut oil and mild chili.  We were not in a good mood before we went and were really unhappy when we left.  So the best course of action was to get into bed and read until we fell asleep.  Fortunately, we had had a good day.

Today was much more leisurely….well, sort of.  We left the hotel at 8am to and walked briskly for 20 minutes to the Crowne Plaza Hotel where we met up with our North Korean guide, Walter Keats, and the group we will be with for the next week.  We had a 2 hour discussion about what to expect in NK and what to do and not do. What I learned from it was, if I want to take pictures do not hang out near the guides and if I want to chat with the guides and learn about them, don’t take many photos.  That means I will be in a constant dilemma as we will have almost no opportunity to talk with other North Koreans.  There are only about 50 English speaking guides so Walter has gotten to know many of them.  They are nice people who know how to avoid answering questions they cannot or do not know how to answer.  They are watching each other as well as watching us and could compromise themselves and three generations of their families if they make a wrong move.  The concentration camp is just one mistaken move or thoughtless remark away.  What a horrible way to have to live.

Walter also showed us a number of images of the sights we will see and the hotels and rooms we will be staying in.  It was nice to get a flavor for what to expect.  He is quite sarcastic about the current regime and made us laugh in a funny sad way.  He referred to Kim Il Sung as “God”, Kim Jung Il as “Jesus” and the high ranking officials as “apostles”.  The regime has a serious problem about what to do when Jesus dies.  Apparently, when Kim Jung Il went to China a few weeks ago, ostensibly to introduce and receive approval of his illegitimate son as the next leader, the Chinese did not give any public endorsement and there have been no published photos of the son, Kim Jung Un.  Also, the big meeting that was to happen in North Korea this last week, again ostensibly to introduce the son as the future leader, was postponed.  Walter hopes the Dear Leader will move up to heaven soon so something better can happen for the people.  He encourages more people to visit NK so the North Koreans who do see us will begin to realize that people from other countries are well fed, have plenty of clothes, are free to travel and do not live in fear.  Even if we cannot speak to them, they can observe and ponder the possibilities.

Now that we have visas, we are invited guests of North Korea and have little to fear unless we do something stupid, like insult the Dear Leader in public.  I pray that I mind my manners.  We each received personalized luggage tags and a map of North Korea.

From there we walked back to the hotel along the pedestrian street and made a quick stop into the largest mall in Asia.  A little goes a long way with us.  We had only two activities on the agenda for the day:  the 2008 Olympic venue and an art gallery area called Factory798.  We took a taxi to the Bird’s Nest and the Water Cube.  I found both venues awe inspiring even though I had seen them on TV.  The Bird’s Nest is especially interesting to see and experience firsthand.  When I walked inside and down into the stands, I could feel the excitement of the games even though the place was empty.  I took several photos and hope they give a feel for the place and the space.   From there we walked a couple of blocks to the Water Cube.  It is also an interesting building to experience, but not as awesome.  Inside, the place has been converted into a public swimming facility including multiple water slides, pools and hot tubs and an ocean wave environment complete with a beach.

By this time we were hungry so we went into a McDonald’s that was next to the Water Cube hoping for a fishwich, but the place was packed and the only choices were Big Mac or Chicken sandwich  meals.  No thanks, not that hungry.  We grabbed another taxi (by the way taxi rides are pretty cheap in Beijing) and headed for Factory 798.  Without a frame of reference we were somewhat disoriented at the “Factory”.   Art galleries and workshops are scattered all over the old factory buildings with no organized way to discern which places to visit, so we wandered around awhile, stumbled into a few odd galleries, found a place to get a pizza and a glass of freshly squeezed carrot juice and decided to call it a day.  Good timing too, as it was just starting to rain.  Another taxi ride to the hotel and we were back in our room by 3:30 with a little time to relax before dinner.

Dinner was at a new restaurant called Capital M.  As it was next to Tien An Men Square and not raining, we walked by way of the square and watched a huge flower pattern being laid out and filled in with potted plants for a festival coming up this next weekend.    We were the first to arrive at Capital M, so we ordered a drink and waited.  A 63 year old woman, Barbara, sat next to me and we chatted about her career as a University professor and her passion for travel in Asia.  She likes to teach English as a second language at schools in Asian countries and is fluent in Korean and Japanese with a bit of Chinese.  It turns out this is her second trip to NK and she will be visiting different places than we will.   Our leader, Walter, has also been traveling to Asian since 1976, got into the travel business in the late 70’s and first went to North Korea in 1996.  He organized tours for 200 people in 2006, but all the trips were cancelled due to major floods in NK that summer.  After that he planned more slowly and only this season with 50 people committed is he back up to 200 total North Korean visitors from the US.  Lucky us.

We were going to walk back to the hotel, but it was raining again so we accepted a ride in the group van.  Now I am falling asleep at the computer so I quit.  Tomorrow morning we fly to Pyongyang.  Unfortunately, I cannot send this message to the whole group of you, so I will try to send it to a few of you by webmail and ask you kindly to send it on to others as you know want to receive it.

Good night, Julia

September 22, 2010

Arriving Pyongyang with Song Jung Sil

At last we are in North Korea.  It took all day yesterday to get here.  Left our hotel at 8:30, met the group and departed the Crowne Plaza at 9:15, arrived at the airport at 10, took until 11:30 to get checked in, boarded the Air Koryo (NK airline) plane at 1pm, lifted off at 1:30, landed at Pyongyang at 4pm, spent another hour and a half getting our bags checked into the country (only our cell phone was impounded); drove 30 minutes to the center of town and the Potonggang Hotel, got to our room at 6:30pm.  Took a quick look at the room and rejoined the group for a bus ride to dinner at the National Restaurant where we had a traditional BBQ dinner and watched an all women band perform.  Finally got back to the room at 9pm and dove into bed.

The best part of the day was the airplane ride.  The stewardesses were lovely and impeccably dressed in red uniforms.  The plane itself was spotless.  Mark and I did our usual sitting arrangement where he has the isle and I have the window.  A North Korean woman sat between us and said something to me in English so we struck up a conversation.  Turned out she spoke fluent American English, which she learned in University and from her many travels abroad.  She is an Official in the International Department of the Central Committee of the Korean Democratic Women’s Union and travels to places like Uganda, Ethiopia and South Africa representing NK at Women’s conferences.  Her name is Song Jung Sil, which means “achieve heavy fruit”.  We had a very interesting conversation about life in NK and the gradual improvements and developments that are being made.  She categorically denied the existence of “concentration camps” and refused to talk about the prospects of life after Kim Jung Il.  Mark took a photo of us in the rain on the airport ramp.  Then she disappeared into the crowd.

We were met by our local guide, Mrs. Ri Mong Nan, a driver, a professional videographer, and two minders, both named Mr Oh. We call them Oh senior and Oh junior.  On the way into town, Mrs. Ri talked generally about the country and the things we saw as we drove along including a large mosaic of the last image of Kim Il Sung.  This image is also the one, in the shape of a round pin, which everyone wears over their heart. In addition to the rain and mist, the bus windows were fogged so viewing was minimal.  I did notice there were only a few cars on the road and a good number of people were walking and bicycling.  Everyone looked quite normal.  Mrs. Ri told us the population is 20,000,000 and growing.  The city, which was leveled during the Korean War by Americans, has been rebuilt and has many tall buildings including the 44 story hotel, Potonggang, in the center the city where we will be staying.  There was almost no traffic and we moved quickly into the city center.

As it was late, we went directly to dinner at the Nationalities Restaurant, which was garishly decorated in thousands of plastic flowers, and had our first of many Korean meals.  This one included beef and squid grilled on a BBQ on our table.  I liked that part.  A number of other side dishes were also served including kimchee, pickled vegetables, mushrooms, rice and soup.  It was way too much food, but we all tried to be polite and eat some of each dish.  The only dish missing was dessert.  Our group turns out not to be much into alcohol.  While half the group drank soft drinks, the rest of us drank beer, which tastes good to me and is not very strong.  After dinner, we were entertained by a group of female musicians.  One of them played an interesting string instrument called a “gayagum”.  The music was pleasant except for the amplifier reverberation.  It seems to be a popular Asian effect.  Mark and I would both rather hear the pure sound.  Meanwhile, Walter commented that the reason women are doing most of the service jobs, including playing in bands, is because all the young men are serving in the military.

Our room was a corner suite on the 19th floor with large windows that opened so we could get cross ventilation.  Shortly after we got into the room we heard music coming from a loud speaker.  An hour later we hear it again and again at 5am and at 6am.  It turns out every city has political songs and propaganda speeches played over loudspeakers several times each morning and evening.   Thankfully, it does not go on all night.

At breakfast our first morning, we met a man from Colorado, David Snell, who is here planning the construction of 50 houses in a nearby area.  His organization is called The Fuller Center for Housing and is based in Atlanta.   Fuller was also the founder of Habitat For Humanity.  David believes both North Koreans and Americans have “mutually flawed perceptions” about each other.  His objective is to change the false impressions one person at a time by bringing more Americans here to experience North Korea for themselves and to help the local people build houses.  He believes the North Koreans are terrified of Americans, based on their experience of the war (which has, in fact, not ended) and the propaganda they have been force fed since the mid 50’s.  We Americans, on the other hand, suspect that NK is one big concentration camp with an egomaniac dictator.

September 23, 2010

After breakfast yesterday, we headed out on a large bus for our first full day in Pyongyang.   First stop was the Mangyongdae Native House, the supposed birthplace of Kim Il Sung.  It is a thatched, three structured, country home in mint condition that, supposedly, contains farm equipment made by Kim’s grandfather, kitchen equipment used by his grandmother and photos of various family members, most of whom died during the “anti-Japanese war”.  While there we heard loud singing coming from squads of marching cadets.  As they approached the birthplace they became quiet and marched in perfect unison.  There were several hundred boys from 6 to 16 all in spotless uniforms.  They are students at the nearby Revolutionary School.   We managed to get a few of them to smile at us as they passed by.  The birthplace is in a large, well-kept park filed with lawns, trees, hedges and walkways leading up a gentle slope to a vista point where we could see much of the city and get ourselves oriented.  A large river, the Taedong, divides the City into West Pyongyang, the central district, and East Pyongyang.   As we walked back to the bus, we could see a group of people who were held back until we had passed.  An effort, I guessed, to keep us separated from local folk.

Back on the bus, we headed for the Pyongyang Metro to take a ride on the underground.  It costs 5 wan to ride it anywhere regardless of the distance.  Once in the station, we got on a very fast moving escalator and descended 100 meters in dim light to the platform, which was a splendid space filled with huge mosaics on the walls and outlandish chandeliers hanging from the ceilings.  The underground was built so deep to provide shelter in case the US Imperialists should bomb the country.

We rode for only one stop traveling at 55km/hour and stepped out into an equally fantastically decorated station, done in a slightly different motif.  Huge numbers of people ride the underground and the place was packed while we were there.  The escalator up was just as fast and dimly lit.  Back on top we found ourselves across the street from our hotel.  So we took the time for a potty break and re-boarded the bus for the nearby Mansudae Fountain Park so we could see the many fountains and sculptures amid statues of the Great Leader and view the National Library and the Grand Theater facades.  No chance of going inside.  Then onward to the Kim Il Sung Monument, where the statue of Kim is 22.9 meters high.  The largest statue of Mao, meanwhile, comes up only to this statue’s knees.  I could only compare it to Ramses II at Abu Simbal and suspect Ramses may be shorter.  This statue was built in bronze for Kim Il Sung’s 70th birthday in1982, along with a number of other monuments throughout the country.   We were told that we must ceremoniously deliver flowers to the foot of the statue and bow before it.  Earl, an elderly man in our group who also served in the army during the Korean War, agreed to do the flowers.  The rest of us lined up in a row while he laid the flowers.  When he joined our line, we were all to bow.  A couple of people did, but Mark and I stood erect and still.  What a charade!  Then we walked around the other huge sculptures, all beautifully executed by unnamed Korean craftsmen.  One double sided sculpture was of many people representing the anti-Japanese Revolution that lasted until 1945.  The other double sided sculpture was divided into two themes; the social revolution and the Revolutionary War, which we call the Korean War.  In this last sculpture a small but noticeable part includes an upside down GI helmet and a US flag being trampled underfoot.

Next stop, lunch on the Pyongyang Boat  #1.  Tourists used to motor up and down the Taedong River while having lunch, but the boat is so derelict that it is now kept tied to the shore.  Beats me why we had lunch on it, except that we were captives.  For the first time we were finally seeing local people in significant numbers.  It was a National Holiday for honoring ancestors and everyone was out in family groups enjoying the nice weather and having picnic lunches wherever they could.  We were not allowed to take photos of people and when I continued to do it anyway, Mrs Ri and I had a serious confrontation.  To save her face, I deleted one photo, but I continued to take pictures surreptitiously, in spite of many orders not to by all three minders traveling with us.  Consequently, I have a number of photos with heads cut off or other parts missing.  I recognize the guides are only following orders from above, but it makes no reasonable sense to me.  We finally left the boat and walked along the river, trying to hide photo taking of people, yet smiling and trying to be friendly whenever possible.  Walter started going up to young people and saying hello in Korean and extending his hand.  Once I saw him get smiles, giggles and handshakes back, I decided to try it.  It worked fine and I was able to get a few photos from willing people.  Ano Hasimnika is the Korean all-purpose greeting.  It is pronounced Anyo Ha Sim Ni Ka.  We stopped at the Taedong Gate and the YongYang Pavilion.  As Pyongyang had been leveled during the war, these were replicas of ancient building.  Only a huge bronze bell survived the bombings.

From there we drove to the Foreign Language Bookstore where we purchased postcards and a North Korean flag for our collection.  We had been afraid that would not be possible so if we don’t do any more shopping we are satisfied.

Another short drive and we were at the base of Moran Hill, where we took a “long” stroll up and around the hill and saw the Moran Theater where symphonies are performed, more North Korean monuments and a Russian Monument to Friendship between Russia and North Korea. Views from the top of the hill were very nice, including a clear shot of the Kim Il Sung statue where we left flowers.  We found many more groups of families sharing picnics on grass outcrops and at vista points.

Then we drove to the Tower of Juche Idea, which was also built in 1982 for the Great Leader’s 70th birthday.  This tower is directly opposite the statue of Kim about a half mile away.  It immediately reminded us of  the Washington Monument, only it is larger and slightly different.  It is 170 meters tall including a 20 meter high gold flame at the top. “Juche” refers to the concept of Self-Reliance, wherein Kim suggests the people should not rely on other countries for support.  It implies that individuals should be self-reliant too, but, in fact, they are totally dependent on the regime for survival.  We were not allowed to get off the bus at this site as it is being readied for the 65 Anniversary celebration of the Workers Party on October 10.  Apparently there will be fireworks happening from the tower. This will not be the last tourist stop we will miss because of the coming celebration.  In this case, we did not need to get off the bus to see the monument as it was visible from many places.  We were also not allowed to see the Monument to Party Founding for the same reason.  This one was unfortunate as there were thousands of people at the monument rehearsing for the event.  We were absolutely not allowed to even drive near the place.  What a bummer.

Our last stop of the day was the North Korean version of the Arch of Triumph.  Another 70th birthday present, it is, of course, larger (60 x 50 meters) than the one it copies in Paris and is dedicated to Kim Il Sung’s departure from Korea in 1925 and his “triumphal return” from Manchuria after “defeating” the Japanese in 1945—never mind that the Japanese were defeated by the bombing of their country and left Korea when the Americans and Russians sent the POW’s back to Japan.  He had been a leader of the anti-Japanese resistance in Manchuria, but was not the primary cause of the departure of the Japanese.   Although we made a lot of stops during the day we did not leave the central district of Pyongyang.

After cleaning up we drove to a restaurant called Chongryu Hot Pot.  Mark and I are wondering how it will compare with our miserable hot pot dinner in Beijing.  I am pleased to report that it was considerably better, however, we do not plan to have hot pot again for a long time.  Happily we were back at the hotel early enough to relax before going to bed.

September 25, 2010

Ano Hasimnika!

At 8:30am on the morning of the 23rd we were all dressed in our best clothes, the men even had on ties, and heading for the Kumsusan Memorial Palace to see Kim Il Sung laying in state.  What a trip!  The palace was President Kim’s office while he was alive.  It was and is surrounded by a large moat and is a huge marble edifice.  After he died, a year was spent modifying the place into his memorial.  From the outside the noticeable changes include the replacement of all windows with marble walls and the installation of long hallways with moving ramps to process the huge crowds that come to pay their respects.  Inside it is hard to tell what has been changed and no one would tell us if they knew.  The place is solid marble with huge rooms and 2-3 story ceilings everywhere.  We were required to meet in a waiting room for our turn, then line up 4 abreast to march into the entrance corridors where we were searched and had to leave behind purses, wallets, cameras and anything with metal.  Then we went quietly, single file on the moving ramps for at least 2 football lengths until we entered the palace proper.  It is hard to explain the experience.  The place was stupendous in size, but there was nothing on the walls or the floors.  There was no furniture.  There was only grey/white marble everywhere including the ceilings.  We walked silently in single file through 2 or 3 such spaces and finally passed through an air conditioned chamber and into the space where the glass covered body of Kim Il Sung lay in state.  We walked single file to a line at the foot of his coffin, at which point we were to bow when Mrs. Ri bowed.  We did not.  Then we walked around the coffin stopping at each side and supposedly bowing again.  I thought Kim looked pretty good for being dead since 1994.  Of course it has taken a Herculean effort to keep him that way.  After a full circuit, we followed Mrs Ri out of the room and through three successive rooms that display all the medals and honors him received from dignitaries all over the socialist and communist world along with many large photographs; his personal railroad car and his last Mercedes.  From there we retraced our steps out of the building, retrieved our possessions and exited.  We were finally allowed to take photos of the exterior of the facility as long as we did not photograph any military guards.  We were all rather dumb struck at first.  Later on I asked everyone in the group what one word or phrase they would use to describe their impression of the Memorial Palace.  The responses I got included:  ostentatious, gaudy, garish, totalitarian extravagance, egotistical, forced-ritual, theatrical and, my favorite, staged. The whole country is like a movie set where the participants have long forgotten there was any other way of being outside the movie which never ends.

It seemed like no coincidence that our next stop was the Film Studio founded in 1948 by Kim Il Sung and later turned over to his son Kim Jung Il to manage.  It was a one square kilometer facility with a grand entrance and the perfunctory larger than life bronze statues and mosaic filled wall scenes of Kim Il Sung.  Once passed the entry, we were driven to the movie sets and saw three:  a 1920’s Korean village set; a 1940’s Japanese town set and a “western set” of non-descript vintage that contained 3 houses that were each a hodgepodge of styles built on a hillside full of trees along a suburban-like street.  All the sets looked tired and old.  According to our local guide, 1500 films have been made at the studio including 15 this year so far.  The place looked deserted to us.  All the films have a propaganda aspect to them.  Many have been about the anti-Japanese Revolution and the Korean War.  Even love stories have a political bent or teach a “Kimilsungian” moral.  With little else to watch on TV, people see these movies over and over.  On the TV in our hotel room we are able to get BBC, China TV news and sports channels, a couple of Russian channels and a few North Korean Channels.  However, tourists are restricted to the 18th and 19 floors, so perhaps the other floors do not get the channels we receive.

Our next and required stop was the US Pueblo, which is currently moored on the Teagong River bank.  It was a small electronic surveillance boat masquerading as an oceanographic research vessel that strayed into North Korean waters in January 1968 and was captured by the North Koreans after a brief fight.  One of the 83 men on board was killed and the rest captured and held for 11 months before the US finally issued a written apology to get the men released.  It was an ugly scene with the men being treated very harshly until they each wrote written confessions.  As 1968 was a bad year for the US in Viet Nam, not much attention was put on rescuing the men.  The affair was a major thorn in Johnson’s side.  The men finally left through the DMZ crossing, but the Pueblo remained along with a lot of secret documents and equipment that had not been scuttled in time.  After walking all around the boat, we were subjected to a film about the whole issue from the North Korean point of view.  The rhetoric was very skewed and hard to swallow.  Why did we all sit there so politely?  Walter, having seen this film several times, was in the back of the boat discussing the inappropriateness of it with the boat guide.  He had fun needling her, but did not get anywhere.  I was glad to get off and move on.

From there we drove to a local hill called Mt. Ryongak, dragon fly in English, where an outdoor picnic was laid out for us in a lovely park-like setting.  It was the best Korean meal so far.

After that pleasant experience we visited the War Museum, which left a bad taste in my mouth.  We got to see and hear the North Korean version of the Korean War.  The building was built in the old Soviet style with cavernous spaces and long corridors.  After walking a good distance we made it up to the third floor where we sat in seats that moved around a huge diorama one of the war battles showing the North Koreans winning the battle.  Even though I did not like the story, I have to admit the diorama was skillfully and attractively built.  Several of the guys commented on how the North Koreans could do impressive work and keep it revolving, but they could not keep the water and plumbing working in the bathroom.  We saw many old war planes including Yaks and several hulks of crashed American planes.  In another room we saw old tanks, jeeps and other equipment.  When the local guide started telling us how we started the war and all the bad things the US did, I decided to stop listening.   It did not take long for us to be done with that museum.

Our next visit was to one of two School Children’s Palace’s in Pyongyang, where 5000 of the best students, aged 7 – 17, from all over Pyongyang come for extra-curricular activities from 3-5pm after regular school.  The facility is very modern and large and contains many class rooms and an indoor Olympic swimming pool.  We were met by a 13 year old student who was very poised and explained what we were to see and escorted us around the building along with several other tourist groups and their student guides.  We visited several classes including: accordion, dancing, calligraphy, embroidery, diving, swimming and guyagum (a harp-like instrument that is rectangular, has 2 legs that hold one end up from the floor while the other end rests in the players lap as the strings are plucked).  After the tour we were ushered into a performance hall and watch an hour performance given by the best of the best students.  It was quite impressive.  Apparently the school is open for tourist visits a couple of days each week.  Several folks in our group thought it was too exploitive of the children and that it was more work than pleasure.  I don’t know.  It seems to me that if you must live in such a repressive society, it would be better to be as distracted as possible with pleasant activities.  It is always nice to excel at something and feel pride in your effort and achievements.  I suspect these kids know they are the lucky ones and have a chance at a better life than the children who do not make it into the program.

It was not 6pm so we had to rush to get some dinner and be at the Arirang Performance by 7:15.  We ate a quick, uninteresting meal in a private dining room next to a department store and took advantage of the proximity to have a quick look around the store.  There was a wide variety of products, but only a couple of any one thing—everything from batteries to clothing to basketballs and motorcycles.  Shortly we were off to what I believe is the largest stadium in the world at 150,000 seats.  Thankfully we had reserved VIP seats, which means we paid $210 each for center seats with no obstructions and a table in front of us to make photographing the show easier.  That is the most we have ever paid for a performance, especially one that lasted only 90 minutes.  The purpose of the show is for political propaganda for the North Korean people, who are bussed to the show from all over the country and see it free of charge.  There were probably no more than 200 foreigners in the audience paying from $50 to $300.  The show is performed three times a week from August through October and is sold out every time.  The show was nothing short of spectacular and worth every penny we have paid to get to North Korea to see it.  I would love to see it again.  So what’s the big deal?

There were over 100,000 people in the show including 20,000 secondary school students in the seats opposite us flipping cards to change images at least 150 times in perfect unison.  On the stadium floor were the other 80,000 dancing, marching, swaying, doing gymnastics in changing costumes with flowing fabrics to look like moving rivers in one scene or fluttering banners in another or a huge snow storm complete with lightning and thunder or struggling battle scenes or summer flowers.  With so many people massed together in perfect timing the effect is breathtaking.  In one scene there were thousands of small children, some dressed in different animal costumes, others dressed as dolls, dancing in patterns and formations all in perfect timing to the music.  Another scene had hundreds of young people doing hula hoop maneuvers in unison with a few doing special tricks with several hoops each. At one point we were blown away by the incredible aerial maneuvers hundreds of feet above the floor that started in total darkness except for the pyrotechnic lighting on the aerialists.  At first it seemed that there was no safety net as we had not seen one, but when one of the aerialists flew from his wire, the lights came up and we saw an incredibly huge net.  Many of the aerialists had pyrotechnics or special lighting as part of their act and that added to the spectacle.  Meanwhile the card flips continued enhance whatever was happening on the floor.  Often they included Korean characters that we were told spelled out propaganda slogans and praise for the Great Leader, but they didn’t bother us as we could not understand what they meant.  One whole scene was devoted to friendship with the Chinese—panda bears, Chinese dragons and other colorful costumes and elements that were clearly meant to promote good relations with the Chinese, whose assistance and aid are essential to the survival of North Korea. Political as it was, it was great entertainment.  It ended all too soon for me.

October 2, 2010

I have not written since September 23rd, but I did take notes and will do my best to reconstruct our adventures.

On September 24th, with memories of the Arirang Mass Performance in the May Day stadium still fresh in our minds, we headed south to the DMZ.  The road was paved, but rough, the traffic was non-existent.  We visited an old University that had been converted into the Koryo Museum.  Kaesong, the capital of the Koryo (from which came the current name Korea) Kingdom from 918 to 1392, was the political, economic, Buddhist and learning center of the kingdom.   It remained an influential business and trade city (population 800,000) during the Ri dynasty until WWII, especially for the cultivation and trade of the medicinal cash crop, ginseng.  Today ginseng is still the main commodity. Although it was part of a “no bomb” zone that exempted it from carpet-bombing, it did not escape the effects of the Korean ground war.  Today the population is only 335,000 and the city has a battered, rusty, dusty tired appearance.  There are still some interesting tombs and artifacts to visit, but our interest was further south.

The DMZ is located in what had been the village of Panmunjom, which was wiped off the map during the war.  Today the area is still called Panmunjom and is now known as the venue for the Korean War Armistice Talks, wherein, according to the NK guide, the US imperialists caved in to the Korean people and “gave up” in 1953.  He actually stated in Korean that “the US aggressors are intent on taking over the world”.   The Chinese guide and then our guide translated his words into Chinese and English as if the information was common knowledge.  I couldn’t believe Mrs. Ri could say those words to us with a straight face, but she did.  North Korean history has been written to inform the people that Kim Il Sung and the Korean People’s Army won the war against the “US imperialist murdering dogs”.  Everywhere we went in NK, the people are still reminded of that “fact” in propaganda big and small on every rock and sign post.

Our little group was mixed in with crowds of Chinese tourists and we were given rather short shrift, I thought.  We did get to see the room where the armistice was signed and the room where two years of off and on negotiations took place before all parties were sick of the killing and decided to stop the fighting.  We also visited the Joint Securities Area at the 72-hr Bridge crossing where NK and SK military personnel stand at attention facing one another.  Rather eerie to watch.  This is the place where armistice talks still continue periodically.  (According to the news there were talks here just last Thursday shortly after our visit.)  The crowd on the NK side included a lot of Chinese and was very boisterous, which seemed to make the people on the SK side nervous.  It looked very sedate on that side.  Walter told us our visit to the SK side will be very formal and stiff by comparison to the north where the people are so proud that they defeated us.  The facilities on the north side are very dated, rusty and tired including old telescopes, while the SK facilities we could see look polished and new, if not state-of-the-art.

The DMZ is actually a 141 kilometer long, 4 kilometer wide buffer that is not exactly on the 38th parallel but weaves back and forth.  Since no people have gone into the zone for 57 years, the area is overgrown with trees and grasses and hosts a number of wild animals, including several that have become endangered elsewhere.  Apparently there are plans to turn this buffer zone into a “peace park”.  That seems to be one of the only benefits from the war and its aftermath.   A couple of villages, one on each side of the center line, or MDZ, exist within the zone and some farmers are allowed to raise rice and corn in designated areas, where mines have been cleared.

All we could think about was the incredible waste of lives, money, time and the terrible division of a people into two seemingly irreconcilable cultures.   We purchased some post cards of militaristic propaganda and had our guide translate them for us.  One said “Let’s kindle the flame of struggle over anti-war and defending peace”.  Another said “Let us consolidate single hearted unity based on the idea of Army First.”  Yet another said “US Imperialists—Don’t run amok with us”.  When the older Mr. Oh translated this one, he laughed, then looked at me and asked if it bothered me.  I told him it did not, because it was such BS that I could not take it seriously.  (yes, I said B…S…).  He was startled and shut up.

On the return drive, we stopped at a Folk Custom restaurant in Kaesong for lunch on the floor, folk style.  We each received 11 tiny brass dishes of different foods served on a trey.  It was attractive, but not very tasty.  Even so, we ate most of it especially the rice and soup.  Every meal is served with metal chopsticks and a large spoon.  Mark and I liked using the chopsticks, but many in the group did not.  Another thing we have noticed is that there are not many varieties of vegetables.  We are always served cabbage in one or more styles of kimchee, grated carrots, sliced cucumbers, marinated pine needle mushrooms that are a bit earthy, but good, pickles, rice and chicken or beef broth soup.  Sometimes we were served potatoes boiled in some meat stew, bean sprouts and sliced tomatoes.  Very occasionally we received wood ear fungus in a salad, which was quite tasty, or a salad of chopped apples and watermelon served in a mayonnaise dressing.  It tasted just ok, but, as I was missing fruit, I ate quite a bit of it.

Then we visited a pair of ancient tombs (1374) from the Koryo Dynasty.  They were the burial mounds of King Kongman, the 31st Koryo king and a skilled painter and draughtsman, and his wife.  The inside was not accessible, but there were several interesting carved military and civil figures, plus a tiger around his tomb and sheep around hers to represent their ancestry.  It was rather pleasing and made me think they must have been a happy, loving couple.

As we reentered Pyongyang from the south we crossed under the Monument to Reunification, a 30 meter high granite sculpture of two women from both Koreas leaning together over the highway.  In the center they hold an image of the two Koreas rejoined.

The sculpture is very striking and photogenic.

We drop off one of our members, Greg Smith, who left early, and continued northwest out of the city along a 10-lane, rough asphalt road with our bus being the only traffic.  It was really a strange sight—miles of open highway with no vehicles.  Occasionally we saw people bicycling along or sweeping the sides of the road with hand brooms.  The only explanation our guides would give was that it was built by the Young Vanguard in 2001 to show their loyalty to the regime.  The period known as the “Arduous March” during 1996 – 1999 was a time of severe drought and starvation.  The road building effort was hoped to improve prosperity.  The road did create jobs for a time and was intended to handle expected future traffic.   However, the traffic did not materialize.  The Russians withdrew support after the USSR collapsed, so industries closed down when fuel and electricity ran out and people lost their jobs.   Cars that are available are way beyond the purchasing capacity of the average person.  In the city and especially around our hotel, we noticed a number of Mercedes Benz’s, Volvos, Toyotas, Chinese Crowns and a couple of Buick La Crosses, Mark thought were interesting to see.  As far as we could tell they all belong to government officials, elite Workers Party members and military cadres.  Mrs. Ri told us it costs about 9000 Euro to buy a Peace car made by Fiat in the local factory we passed along the roadside.  She admitted that people really want to have a car, but cannot afford one and, with the small amount of money the average person makes, few people will ever be able to own a car.

After half an hour at the high speed of 50-60 klicks due to the significant number of pot holes, we turned onto a narrow dirt road and drove through the town of Nampo without stopping.  Nampo looked exactly like the sort of place we all wanted to visit and meet the people, but it was clearly not on our itinerary.  After several kilometers more we arrived at a place called Ryonggang Hot Springs Resort for a “spa” experience.  The setting was lovely with wooded hills all around and very few people—just the way our hosts wanted it.  We were assigned a room in a 4 unit villa.  The “spa” part was a large mosaic tile bathtub in our suite, which we were to fill with hot mineral water from a special tap.  We were told to wait until well after dinner to do it as that was when the tap would be turned on for two hours.  The experience amounted to a soak in a hot bath and 15 minutes was enough for us.  We passed on the morning opportunity.  Meanwhile, loudspeakers, not far from our resort but out of sight, blared the usual military marches and propaganda speeches all evening until well after we went to bed and started up again early in the morning.  It was louder and more strident than the songs we hear in Pyongyang and much more penetrating than the Muslim call to prayer, which is only 5 times a day.

September 25, 2010

Cold egg omelets and crepes, soggy, partially toasted bread, butter, jam, coffee and tea were on the table waiting for us when we showed up to eat.  I could barely get it down.  Meanwhile, you can only imagine how hard it is for me to get plain hot water every morning.  I have had trouble everywhere we eat, but I am a diehard and keep trying.  Sooner or later hot water arrives along with looks that clearly indicate that the server thinks I am really weird, but that is not new as I get the same looks at home when I ask for hot water at restaurants. There is no such thing in NK as citrus fruit so I don’t bother asking for lemon.  Our salvation has been the large bag of roasted almonds and a smaller bag of dark chocolate squares I brought from home for us to munch on when we passed on the food or wanted to change the taste in our mouths.  I also brought a baggy full of my favorite caffeine free teas.  When we have a hotel room with a water heater, I can have a spot.  Mark brought a bottle of scotch and he is enjoying a nip when the never-never land we are in gets to be too much.

Yesterday we spent at least 6 ½ hours on the bus.  Today we retrace our steps back through Nampo and this time Mr. Oh tells us in no uncertain terms that we are to take no photos for the next 50K.   We were all disappointed and feeling rebellious, but Walter reminded us that our guides would be the ones to suffer if it gets reported that we did not follow the rules, which they are required to enforce.  We have learned that it is everyone’s responsibility to report rule breakers to the authorities.  The consequences can be a simple reprimand or the loss of a job or even being sent to a labor camp.  No one can trust anyone else and everyone lives in fear of being ratted on for something.  It is a really sick way to have to live and our guides all look tense and uncomfortable.

Along the way we made a stop at a place called Pi Island that overlooks the Sea Barage, which includes a large dyke, 3 locks and a fish ladder that separate the West Sea from the Taedong River.   The dyke keeps the salt water out of the river and the accompanying dam allows the river water to spill over when there are heavy rains.  From the statue and signs,  the Sea Barage was clearly another creation of Kim Il Sung.  It took 5 years to complete during 1981 – 1986.  The resulting Taedong Lake has improved agricultural capacity in the whole area and reduced flooding.  I thought this was one of the Great Leader’s better ideas.

After we passed Nampo we stopped at a co-operative farm.  This one is, naturally, a model farm and we are expected.  The first thing we have to do is climb a long and broad flight of steps to the once again larger-than-life bronze statue of Kim Il Sung surrounded, this time, by a farm manager, an assistant manager, a farmer, a tractor driver and an irrigation specialist.  After the usual “not bowing” when told to do so, we learned that the co-operative was started by Kim Il Sung in 1948 with a small farm and gradually, over the years it grew to 1000 hectares and 1000 workers.  This farm uses hybrid seed and is fairly mechanized with 50 tractors, 15 seeders and 20 planting machines, none of which we saw.  We were invited to visit a farmers house and it was quite spotless and comfortable.  It even had a washing machine, a TV, a stereo system, and out back a small personal garden, a pig and a dog.  We met the farmer’s wife, who was dressed up for the occasion and smiled broadly for photos.  What a charade!

Near the farm was the only golf course in NK.  Two of our group, Klint and Stacy had asked for and been given permission to play a round so the group decided to have lunch in the club house and watch them tee off.    Sadly, there was no western food and especially no Club Sandwich.

While they golfed, we went to visit one of only two UNESCO World Heritage Sites in NK.  It was a grouping of three mounded Tombs from 550-590AD.  We had hoped to visit the interior of one of the tombs, but were told it would cost us each $50 and we could not take photos inside.  Walter, never having been there either, negotiated a deal for himself to go and get one photo for the $50.  The rest of us cooled our heals while he had the adventure.  For once our guards, I mean guides,  were totally split up.  Senior Mr. Oh stayed with Klint and Stacy, young Mr. Oh went with Walter and we were finally alone with Mrs. Ri.  She really relaxed and opened up with us.  That was the first nice conversation we had had with her and it led to more relaxed visits now that we knew the secret—do not try to have a serious conversation with one guide when another is around.  Walter, meanwhile, got only one semi blurry photo as the tomb itself was behind glass.  This little adventure turned out to be a bit of a bust, but we were all relaxed and willing to go with the flow.

Back at the golf club, Klint, Stacy and Mr. Oh were ready.  They commented that the greens needed help, but that the required caddy, a cute young lady, really knew the course well.  They had a good time and will be among the very few people who can boast that they played golf in North Korea.  While there, Mark could not resist buying a few Pyongyang golf items to show off at home.

While driving back to Pyongyang we passed through many nearly ready to harvest rice fields and listened to Mrs. Ri answer our questions about a variety of subjects. With both Mr.’s Oh on the bus, we know we were in for the party line, but that was OK.  The government owns all the land and collects its farm produce, except for what tiny plots are around each country house and every other meager spot where food will grow, such as along the roadside.    Rice, corn, cooking oil and some staples are still distributed to each person according to their age and station in life.  Workers receive a good share, while farmers and miners and hard laborers receive more.  Men get more than women.  Housewives and elderly people receive less and children receive varying amounts depending on their age.   Everyone belongs to a neighborhood group and must be registered there from birth.  That is where one goes to receive ration coupons, to apply for an apartment, a marriage document, permission to travel anywhere outside the immediate area and just about anything you can name.  When times are tough, each person’s share is reduced and eventually people begin to suffer from malnourishment and other problems, such as during the late 90’s when 10s of thousands starved to death.

Beyond the staples, a person must buy vegetables, fruit, soap, clothes, bicycles and other products from the small salaries they receive.  Most people and all students wear uniforms at work or school and those are distributed by the work place or school.  Mrs. Ri does not wear a uniform and must buy all her clothes from her salary, an amount I did not learn.  I could not even get her to give us an average salary for workers.

There are neighborhood clinics where everyone has free service for all medical issues including eye and dental and all prescriptions.  A person’s medical history is on file from birth and one must start at the clinic for every health problem.  There are many specialty hospitals in the city and the clinic will refer you to the one they believe is appropriate.  If you need medicines that are not available the hospital will tell you to seek the medicine outside the country if you can and pay for it on your own.  Once you get the needed drugs, the local hospital will administer the medicine free of charge.  How scary that must be for people who have no money and serious medical needs.

For two people to get married all that is required is for someone, even a family member, to give a small speech that Mary Smith and Sam Jones have decided to share life together.  There is no ceremony and no certificate.  The expensive part is the party that the families of the couple must put on and the difficulty is in paying for all the extra rice, liquor and other foods that are beyond the co0mbined rations.  Somehow they manage for such a special occasion.  It is not hard to get divorced, but the social stigma keeps many people together “for the sake of the children”.   The government wants people to have lots of children so abortion is not acceptable and neither is sex before marriage, which usually occurs around 25-27 for girls and 27-29 for boys. There is almost no prostitution, at least not according to the party line.

She told us there are no taxes.  I believe it.  The government takes everything and doles out what it wants to the people so what is there to tax?  After all, it is socialist society.  She is rightly proud that everyone receives an education.  The literacy rate is almost 99%.  However, most people do not have the skills to work in any modern society.  The people who have escaped are living examples of this problem.  Most have a hard time finding work they can do beyond menial labor or driving a vehicle, which, interestingly, requires six months of schooling in North Korea to learn and pass all the rules so one can be a driver for a government official.  Thus, more training is required for a car license than a truck or bus license.  (This last bit I read in the book “North of the DMZ”, which gives a lot of background about the details of everyday life in NK.)

When we asked about what she does when she is not guiding crazy Americans around, she told us she works 8 hours a day on a co-op farm during the planting and harvesting season.  Her company is assigned a farm by the government and the company workers go to the farm when needed.  She did not act like she minded the work, even though she finds it very hard for the first 4 days until her muscles adjust to the labor.  When there is no work at the company or on the farm, she stays home, which, she admitted is about 6 months of the year. What a life.  At least she does not seem to harbor any negative feelings about her life.  In some ways she is very lucky to have had a well-connected grandfather, live in a large apartment (136 meters) with her family and mother around her, an interesting, if stressful, job, and a husband she loves, who is a member of the Workers Party and back in school for retraining in a new field she did not mention.   She seems to choose not to let anything we say about the way the rest of the world functions to sink beneath the skin.  She could be obtuse or in denial or maybe in survival mode.  She could also be so totally brainwashed that there is no way to shake her world.

Back at the hotel, we joined Earl in the lounge for a much needed drink, then visited over dinner with Fred and Elena Kyle, a couple in the group with whom we really hit it off.  Fred was at least as cynical as Mark and Elena and I laughed at their relentlessly sarcastic remarks. We all needed to keep our sense of humor more than ever.

hat a long couple of days.  Walter and our guides are determined to keep us so busy we won’t have time to wander off and get them into trouble.

More later, Love Julia

September 26, 2010

Of our 8 nights in North Korea, we spent five at the Koryo Hotel in Pyongyang.  Mark and I were assigned a corner suite on the 19th floor.  After the third night we went to the hot springs resort near Nampo for one night then returned for another at the Koryo.  We got the same room back and found it much as we left it, except the beds were made and there were fresh towels.  Even the old soap was in the same place.  We were gone again the 6th night and, sure enough, got that room back for the last 2 nights.  We actually started feeling at home in the space.  I can report at least one fun experience we had every day in the Koryo.  The elevator door would open and on the floor would be a different woven wool carpet than the day before.  We arrived on a Tuesday evening and did not pay much attention to the floor, but the next morning when we saw a carpet that read WELCOME WEDNESDAY, we were tickled, and made a bet that there would be a different carpet for each day of the week.  Mark decided to photograph the carpet and see how many days of the week we could capture.  He and Fred had fun teasing each other about it and I think Mark had the last laugh as Fred was not there to get Tuesday when it came around the second time.  Because of our comings and goings we were at the hotel every day at one hour or another.

From our window we could see a children’s playground behind the tall apartment building directly across from us and were told each apartment building had such a playground on the back side.  I asked if I could go see it and was told no.  If I did, someone in the neighborhood notice and report that a foreigner was there.  Nothing would happen to me, but our guides, who are watching over us would get into trouble.  I am not sure what would happen to them, but they would have to report the infraction at the self-criticism meeting on Saturday and be held accountable.  If they could not explain the situation satisfactorily to the group at the meeting, they could receive a reprimand and have the matter put on their record, possibly lose their jobs or worse.  Also, Americans could be disallowed from coming again.   So in the end, I did not go there.  Too many people’s lives can be affected.  This same scenario happened many times during the week, and gradually we all began to toe the line—getting a little fearfully twisted ourselves maybe? I did make a date with Mrs. Ri to go walking by ourselves one morning.  When she did not show, I walked out of the hotel by myself.  When no one stopped me I kept walking and got about as far as the train station and a small square two blocks away.  There were several unfriendly stares, but no one approached me. Most people were busy about their own business.  Eventually, I psyched myself out and went back to the hotel.  What a trip!

Mrs. Ri was in the lobby when I returned and we went walking together long passed the spot where I had turned around.  We had a nice visit and I finally learned her first name, Mong Nan, although it is not usual for people to address each other by personal names.  I should say Mrs. Ri or Ri Mong Nan.  She shared some of her life with me.  She lives with her husband of 11 years, her two children, 7 and 10, and her mother.  He mother chose her husband for her and she did not know him before the wedding.  She feels lucky and happy that they liked each other.  She is an only child, so when her father died a few years ago her mother came to live with her family.  They have a large apartment by North Korean standards; 136 square meters including 3 rooms, a bath and a kitchen.  Her husband is in the Workers Party and is undergoing retraining for a change in career.  Her father was a renowned musician in NK and eventually became the head of a major music school and was favored by the government.  Her children are studying music and she has a piano in her apartment.   Even so, the building provides only cold water 12 hours a day, so a few families on her floor went together to buy a hot water heater.  She is very lucky as life goes in her country—living in a large apartment in Pyongyang, having a happy marriage and family and a good job.  We have been told that many, if not most, men drink a lot and are abusive toward their wives.  We observed many restaurants with liquor available that helped confirm that report.  We also observed that most men chain smoke, while women do not.  Apparently it is against the law for women who are not elderly to smoke.

Ri told me she went to Malaysia for a month a few years ago to study tour guiding.  She also spent 3 days in Beijing going and coming.  At first she was impressed with the richness of Malaysia, but after a couple of weeks she began to see beggars and dirty, hungry people on the streets and did not like the disparity of rich and poor so she could not wait to get back home where everyone is more equal.  Either there is no poverty in NK or it is outside the sphere of her exposure.  She admitted she had never been far from Pyongyang.  She was obviously very trusted to be allowed to leave the country and even more trustworthy to return believing her country was the better place to be.  I did not try to change her mind.  After all, capitalism is not perfect.  It is just infinitely better than socialistic communism under a ruthless egotistical dictator.

The city has many streets lines with willow trees.  The old name for the capital was Yugyong, which means willow capital.  Signal lights were once installed to show modernization, but they were soon removed as electricity was costly, there were very few cars anyway and everyone preferred the very cute uniformed female traffic guards.

Every morning we say groups of students marching in time, singing and waving bunches of plastic flowers behind one student carrying a sign.  There was always at least one adult with them.  Sometimes the groups would pass each other on the side walk.  From our hotel or the bus we saw dozens of these groups.  Mrs. Ri told me the students all gather together by class and march to the school they attend.

Several scheduled visits, including a circus performance, were dropped from the itinerary “for reconstruction” or preparations for the coming 65 year Anniversary celebrations of the founding of the Workers Party.  As there was therefore extra time in the schedule we were asked what we wanted to do with it—visit the zoo, the botanical gardens, things that none of us cared about.  Finally we agreed on a visit to a church, preferably when a service was happening.  As the 26th was Sunday, we headed off to church for a 10am service.  The church was rebuilt in 2006 with funds from from North and South Koreans.   It was a very modern stone building with the latest sound and lighting technology.  The minister met us at the entrance and told us it was a protestant church of no particular denomination and that there were 300 congregants.  He said he also knew the Catholic priest who was in charge of the Catholic Church not far away.  Once inside we found he church full of people waiting for the service to begin.  There was a 30+ member choir that was lovely to hear.  A screen came down behind the altar and the congregation could see the choir up close, the readers and the minister as well.  We sat in the back and were handed small receiver sets so we could hear the proceedings in English.  We were all impressed with that.  I noticed that no one wore Kim pins in the church.  One man sitting in the back had a piece of paper stuck over his pin so it was out of sight.  The whole congregation prayed fervently for reunification.  I wanted to stay longer, but the group was ready to move on after 20 minutes, so we left.

We headed north out of town on a 4 lane road that had many walkers and bicyclists, but no other cars.  Our destination was up the Manpok Valley to Mt. Myohyang.  We hiked up a very pretty trail along a river with many boulders and trees along the way.  Mark and I both commented that it looked a bit like the Yuba River drainage.  Part way up the hill was a level place by a waterfall where a picnic was laid out for us on blankets.  We were treated to a do-it-yourself BBQ, on braziers placed on the ground in front of us.  We cooked thin slices of beef, duck and squid with all the usual accompaniments of kimchee and the other vegetable dishes I have mentioned.  As most of the group members are older than Mark and I, sitting on the ground, then leaning over to cook and eat was too uncomfortable.  This was one of several times when the staff and guides did not have any clue about customer service.  After the lunch struggle some of us hiked further up the trail passing several water falls.  The trail became so narrow and steep that deep steps had been carved into the rock faces and steel railings and stout ropes were fitted into the hillside to assist with passage.  I went as far as a hanging, swinging bridge and then returned as I did not want to continue alone.  It was a terrific hike, but on every cliff face were chiseled the words Kim Il Song is our great leader or other such platitude.  Each character was several feet wide and tall and 2-3 feet deep.  I understand that these slogans are on most cliff faces in all the mountains in the country.   What a shame.  The mountains in North Korea are really beautiful.  Someday, when the Kim Dynasty is long gone, it will be nearly impossible to remove the propaganda.   The self-indulgence is revolting to witness.   The only blessing for us was that we could not read it.

We arrived in late afternoon at our third hotel, the Chongchon, to experience in a village called Hyangsan.  We hoped we would see rural people and maybe interact with some.  The hotel was the oldest and most run down of the three we experienced.  We had hot water only an hour in the evening and again in the morning and dim electric bulbs.  The food was exceptionally boring and tasteless, so we ate little.  Mark and I were blessed with a suite again, which was helpful as the bedroom had no room for our things.  We thought everyone in the group got suites at all the hotels, but learned later that not everyone did.  The bed was very hard, but not lumpy, so I slept very well. Mark did not, unfortunately.

On the morning of September 27, we were allowed out of the building to go for a walk.  It was raining pretty hard, but we all went anyway.  The street led directly out of our hotel to a town square a couple of blocks away.  We saw few people, in part due to the rain.  Once we got to the square we were not allowed to go any further.  All the guides said “they would not like seeing us anywhere else and would report any such incident”.   We all asked who “they” were and were told “they” were the local people, not the government.  So we turned around and walked back to the hotel.  That was the end of our visit to a village.

From there we drove passed a children’s summer camp, which Ri remembered fondly as she had attended it when in grammar school, enroute to the International Friendship Exhibition.  There were two new, large and grand structures built in the ancient Korean style.  Each building was set immediately adjacent to a mountain.  The larger one contained all the gifts Kim Il Sung has received since the 40’s as well as gifts received since his death.   The second building was for all Kim Jung Il’s gifts.  The buildings were cavernous with huge halls that went deep into the mountain with display rooms entered from the corridors.  We were told there were 70,000 square meters of display space for Kim Il Sung’s gifts, which included 225,000 items from 184 countries.  First we were shown into a large room with what must have been the best gifts on display along with another twice life size bronze of Kim Il Sung.  It was really interesting to see what and by whom gifts were given.  Above the glass cases containing gifts were large photos showing Kim receiving gifts from the various dignitaries.  We were instructed to walk slowly by each gift, but not allowed to linger very long.  So although I was amazed by the names of some of the donors I can remember only that most of gifts were quite lavish and came from socialist and communist countries.  Some of Kim’s friends were Gaddafi, Mugabe, Chaucescu and Castro- a sterling crowd.   He was friendly with Mao and Stalin as well.  There was a silver bowl from Madelyn Albright when she was Secretary of State and a beautifully sculpted white dove of peace from Billy Graham.  I could have stayed in that room a lot longer, but we were moved out into a corridor and asked which country’s gifts we wanted to see since we could not possibly see everything.  We were all puzzled for a minute until we realized that there must be a room for each country in addition to the room we just visited.  We were rather global in our requests—US, Europe and Africa.  We were led a long distance to a door that opened onto rooms full of gifts from Europe.  Each country was indicated by a sign at the top of the case or cases that contained gifts from heads of state, communist groups, dignitaries and individual donors from that country.  Nearly every country was represented.  Then down another long corridor we went to a door that opened onto several rooms filled with cases from many countries in Africa.  We recognized many of the countries and the distinctive gifts as coming from places we have visited—even land locked, impoverished Burkina Faso had its own case.  Finally, down another long corridor we entered a room that contained gifts from North America.  There were several cases from South American countries, Mexico and Cuba.  At the end of those rooms was one relatively small case containing gifts from the US, mostly from communist party groups and a few individuals.  Our country, thankfully, has given very little.  There was a small crystal ash tray from Carter that I thought was very appropriate.  Then, even though we had not asked to see any gifts from China or the USSR, we were taken to rooms that contained several old cars including a bullet proof 1940’s Geez that weighed 9 tons from the USSR and two train coaches from China including one that was bullet proof.  Those were impressive.

We wondered what our country has done with all the gifts it must have received since it was founded.  Certainly there must be at least as many as displayed here.  Probably some are in the Presidential Libraries, but that can be only a few.  Do we have a warehouse like the one in Raiders of the Lost Ark, where the gifts are boxed up and put into storage, never to be seen again.  I almost hope so as this exhibit was the most ostentatious display of egotism I have ever seen.  The second building contains some 59,000 gifts from 134 countries that Kim Jung Il has received.  In it we remember seeing a basketball signed by Michael Jackson and given by Madelyn Albright after she left office and something from Clinton.  There were rooms full of gold leaf furniture from a South Korean furniture manufacturer, several cars including a Geez and a bullet proof Mercedes and many more modern conveniences.  Kim Jung Il has used none of it as he has said it is all given to the people of North Korea and not to him.  Thousands of North Koreans get bussed here every day to visit their treasures, which, unfortunately, do not benefit them in any way.  Walter suggested eBay would be a great way to liquidate the stuff and provide cash for food and services for the people.  We were then ushered to an outdoor terrace with a spectacular mountain view with a waterfall and stream coming down the mountain toward us.  The rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through the clouds.  Typical Russian, but not gilt, upholstered chairs were arranged to take advantage of the view and we were invited to sit, enjoy the scenery and have drinks.  Quite civilized.  However, we did not see local citizens on the terrace, only foreigners.   As we left, Mark called the whole place “farcical”.

After that very North Korean experience, we happily visited a nearby, small Buddhist Temple called Pohyon.  It dates from the 11th century and currently houses 20 monks.  We saw two of them and they, like the Christians in the church, do not wear Kim pins on their chest.  The story about this Temple is that a monk named Sosan decided in 1592 that Korea had to be defended from the attacking Japanese so he raised an army of 5000 monks and went to Pyongyang to defend the city walls and gates, while the underpowered Korean troops fought the battle.  The Koreans were successful and the monk was made a national hero.  The quiet, peaceful temple grounds were a pleasant change from the theatrical fictions that are perpetrated and spoon fed to the entire population as truth.  How much longer will the Kim regime be able to keep the people hidden from the rest of the world and when will the people stop allowing the fiction to continue?

We faced another meal at the hotel in Hyangsan and then headed back to Pyongyang.  Everywhere we have been by the way, North Koreans use metal chopsticks rather than wood ones.  The metal is reusable and saves trees.  We thought they were also easier to eat with.  Along the way we noticed flags placed here and there in the rice fields and asked why they were there.  Mrs.Ri told us the flags were put out every day to indicate where the farmers were to work that day.  Apparently the farmers cannot be permitted to think for themselves.  I noticed wildflowers growing profusely along the sides of the road and was grateful for some beauty that was not filled with propaganda even if it was the government that must have had them planted. Mark and others noticed a few trucks along the way that had smoke billowing out of boilers sitting in the truck bed.  Walter explained that these were hybrid vehicles.  There is not enough gasoline so the trucks, all old, are outfitted with a drum-like barrel that burns coal or wood that is converted into a gas that is filtered and fed into a modified combustion chamber.  The smoke is the byproduct of a chemical reaction when the gas is ignited.  Apparently this type of system was popular in the USSR, China, Japan and Korea during WWII.  All the countries gave up the inefficient system after the war, but North Koreans, dependant on the USSR and China for fuel as they has none of their own, have been forced to continue using the hybrid system, which requires carrying a load of coal or wood and an extra person to keep the fire burning.  Not only is the payload reduced, the trucks travel quite slowly and can barely make it up the mountainous terrain of the North Korea countryside.  We were witnessing a real step back in time.  After we heard the story we all kept our eyes peeled for more of these trucks and tried hard to photograph them from the moving bus.  Needless to say, the guides were not happy as it was a no-no to photograph them.  We tried to be casual, quick and clandestine.  Mark got a pretty good shot of one, considering the constraints.  We were all such naughty children we couldn’t help giggling.  We did not see any of these trucks in the city.  They certainly would not make a pretty sight.

As we rentered the city, we could see the tallest building from a long distance.  It is interesting to mention as it is one of Kim Il Sung’s ego maneuvers to best the South Koreans that backfired.  He had heard that Seoul had a 63 story hotel so he decided to build a 105 story hotel that would be 40 meters taller.  It was designed and partially built by French.  Construction began in 1987, but was halted in 1990 when the French withdrew as Kim had no more money or support from the collapsed USSR, which stopped all foreign aid.   So the shell of the building, in the shape of a pyramid, has stood empty ever since (23 years and counting).  Recently an Egyptian company has begun work on the property and nearly completed the exterior façade.  Many people still question the viability of the building, referred to by everyone as the pyramid, as it is designed to have 3700 rooms.  Even now there are more available rooms in town than there are tourists.  Under current conditions, North Koreans will not be able to afford to stay there.  We all wonder how the Egyptians can succeed even if they are permitted to keep all the income.  Even unfinished, the building is impressive and enhances the city skyline significantly.

Finally, we were allowed a meal at a private Italian Restaurant for our farewell dinner.  We could not wait.  Turned out the only item on the menu was pizza, so we had 2 or 3 of every variety the place made and wash it down with beer.  The crust was very good. Afterwards Walter managed to buy some pastries and brought them in for dessert.  What a meal.  We ate everything like we were starving and laughed like silly fools.   The photographer who had been videoing our every move, showed us a clip of the DVD and, of course, everyone wanted to have a copy—only $65.  He just has to wrap it up and send it.

Back at the Koryo Hotel we took group photos and said our good byes.  The only ones left now are Mark, me and Walter.  Two other people who have been on a different itinerary, as it was their second trip to NK, were to join us at the end of the next day.

Then up we went to our home room, where the beds were a bit softer but lumpy.  Here Mark slept fine and I did not. Oh well.

September 28, 2010 was a big day for North Koreans as it was the first day of a conference of the Representatives of the Workers Party in over 30 years.  The last one was when Kim Il Sung announced the coming out of his heir, Kim Jung Il.  Everyone was anticipating the announcement of Kim Jung Un as the next heir.  Many of the Representatives from around the country were staying at the Koryo so we saw busloads of them coming and going in their cheap black suits and plain black brief cases.  They were all very somber in appearance and never smiled.

It was a beautiful day with perfect weather.  When Walter returned from the airport, the three of us and the three guides and driver climbed back on our big blue bus and went to visit a war history site.  This one was really interesting as it was the actual bunker where Kim Il Sung and his top officers worked and held meetings during the Korean War.  It is also the site where he personally signed the Armistice documents.

His wood paneled office and attached sleeping room, at 36 meters underground, is in the lowest part of the bunker.  There are tunnels going in several directions, 40 other offices, a small hospital and a meeting room that will hold 200 people.  Some 270 war decisions were made in this room as well as movies and other entertainments shown.   Walter told us there had been a spy named Buck in Kim’s elite group that did not get found out until the end of the War.  As a result, the UNC (United Nations Commission) knew where the bunker was and bombed it repeatedly to no avail unfortunately.

Then we paid a brief visit to the Friendship Tower that commemorates the alliance between the DPRK and China.  There are three mosaic murals describing the preparations for war and joining up with the Chinese, the fight against the Oppressors, especially the US, and rebuilding the country with Chinese help.  The names of 380 Chinese soldiers who die helping the North Koreans are listed here.   Again we are shown as the bad guy that needs to be stopped from taking over the world, especially the North Korean world.  Why do the guides keep showing us these anti-America images?

Finally we are shown an art gallery and a couple of small shops where we bought some ginseng tea and a CD of Korean music.  We were never allowed into the big department stores.    After lunch at the hotel, we were taken to the Grand People’s Study House.   We had passed by it for days and were glad to finally get into it.  It is a huge library that was opened at a cost of 100 million on May 1, 1982, in another May Day celebration of Kim’s 70th birthday.  The building has a capacity for 30 million books and is currently at 90% including 1500 works written by Kim himself.  There are 600 rooms containing 6000 seats for study purposes.  Many of the rooms have study desks that are adjustable for any height or angle to make the person using the desk most comfortable.  These desks were designed by none other than Kim Il Sung himself.  There are study halls, lecture halls, an internet computer room, language labs and lending desks, where one can check out books for up to 30 days free of charge.  The place was very busy when we were there and the guide told us there more than 10,000 people who use the facility every day.  In the winter the numbers are even higher.   At last we reached the top floor where there is an outdoor viewing terrace that overlooks the grand square where all military parades and special events take place.  We have not been allowed near the square since we have been here as there are so many preparations going on for the 65th Anniversary of the Workers Party coming up on October 10.  From this vantage point we look over the square and the Taedong River directly at the Juche Tower.  We can see the fireworks display set up in several places in the river, many more on the far river bank and around the tower.  Below us are thousands of people rehearsing performances for the event.  It is like practice sessions must be for the Arirang Performance we saw.  I would love to be on that spot for the Anniversary program.  It is bound to be an all-out spectacle that only a few will see live as there will be very little room for anyone except performers and the military.

We had to walk down several flights of stairs to get out of the Study House.  We have walked countless step in this country as there are very few elevators that operate, if there are elevators at all.  Some have been turned off due to insufficient lack of electricity and others are simply broken or non-existent.  Thankfully the Koryo has a functioning elevator 24 hours a day.  I can’t imagine what it would be like to live here if you are disabled.  There is no accommodation for wheelchairs that I have seen, but I’ve seen no physically disabled people.  I have read that people with disabilities are kept at home or sent to the country.

We still had places to visit so off we went to the Three Revolutions Exhibition in reference to ideological, technical and cultural revolutions.  We were walked through a large building with rows of mining equipment and models of every kind of mine that exists in North Korea. The north is rich in mineral resources and could be a serious exporter of such products if it ever joins the rest of the world.  I couldn’t stay interested. Then we had to visit the science building and watch a very lame planetary story of the night sky while sitting in swivel office chairs and staring at the dark ceiling with very dim stars. Enough already.  We were not forced to see more as we still had to get across town to visit the Embroidery Center that was staying open just for us.  The work was lovely and the people work hard at their craft, but we did not care anymore.  Off to the Diplomatic Club we went to meet the other folks joining our little group and have the cold noodle dish I have been told is so famous in Pyongyang, but have not been served.  It was pretty good; like a spicy cold noodle soup with mushrooms in it.  That and a lot of beer put us in a better mood.  Our guides can tell us nothing about what went on during the conference so we were glad to watch the BBC news back in our room.  Apparently, Kim Jung Un was promoted to a 4-star general along with his uncle, the husband of Kim Jun Il’s sister, who also has a major position in the government.

The next morning, September 29, we learn on the TV that Kim Jung Un has also been appointed to two major posts in the government; Deputy Chairman of the Workers Party, and Vice-Chairman of the Military Defense Commission.   Both posts are directly under Kim Jung Il and mean that the son is the heir apparent.  If the transfer of power is successful, it will be the only three generation dynasty in the communist world.  Surprisingly no one in the hotel or on the street seems aware, or, if they are, there is no reaction to the news.  Even our guides are quiet about it.

Finally, after a long, full and partially unsatisfying week, we are off to the airport.  While on the way I summarized, with his approval, Walter’s repeated commentary of the last week:  The US government policy is to exercise “strategic patience” with Kim Jung Il’s government.  Basically the US is indifferent to North Korea and is waiting for the country to implode.  He believes the US should try to negotiate a peace treaty between the DPRK, the ROK and the US to end the war.  Without a war that requires constant preparation, there would be no need for the million person military that the DPRK maintains at huge cost to the NK people.  If there was peace and normalcy, we could engage the North easier and maybe begin to have some positive influence.  Otherwise, if and when the North does fall, China will be right there ready to step in and take over.  He believes China will not be amenable to a merger of the two Koreas into a capitalist, pro-western society next door.  If China should, in some fashion or other, move into North Korea upon or in anticipation of the collapse of the dynasty, the north will remain communist and the country will remain divided.   In other words, write to the US politicians begging them to get their heads out of the sand, pay attention and push for treaty negotiations.   His words make sense to me.  What do you think?

At the airport, Ri Mong Nan and I took a long time saying good bye.  We will probably never see each other again and may never be able to communicate even though we exchanged addresses.  We waved until we were out of sight and shortly we were up and away but still experiencing NK on a dirty, smelly North Korean plane, Air Koryo, for the 1 hour 15 minute flight to Shenyang in Manchuria, China.   We were told that Air Koryo is an agency of the Korean Peoples’ Army and the pilots are all air force military personnel on active duty. I did not feel like I had left the Hermit Kingdom until we were on the ground and in the terminal, like Dorothy landing back in Kansas.

Our charming Shenyang guide, Magie, helped us into a small van that whisked us into heavy traffic in a very large and bustling city full of high rises and 8+ million people, where everyone was walking rapidly and purposefully.  The contrast put me into culture shock or a time warp that lasted about half an hour.  Then she turned to us with a real, natural smile and said “Welcome back to the real world”.   I can only imagine what it must be like for defectors when they first cross the Yalu River into China.  The contrast is extreme.

We drove around the Manchurian city munching on, yup, McDonald burgers and listening to Magie talk about ancient Chinese history, the period of Japanese colonialism from  the late 1800’s to 1945 and the rapid growth of businesses in the last several years since economic capitalism took hold in a big way everywhere in China.  We visited the 3rd floor of the modern Liaoning Provincial Museum to learn about the early Chinese-Korean kingdoms and interactions between the two cultures.  We stopped at a large city round about to look at a statue of Mao, specifically to compare the differences and similarities from the statue of Kim in Pyongyang.  Both statues are made of bronze and flanked by people in support of their causes; the posture of each statue is almost identical with the welcoming outstretched right hand; the overcoats also quite similar.  The big difference is that the statue of Kim, at 22.9 meters high,  appears to be 3-4 times larger than that of Mao, at 10 meters.  The number of bronze supporters with Kim is much greater and at least double in size to that of Mao’s supporters.  Both monuments are extremely well designed and executed, but, in the communist fashion, unidentified.   They are so realistic, angry and determined in their expressions that we studied both these and the ones in Pyongyang for quite awhile.

Do you suppose Kim’s ego and personality cult were 4 times larger than Mao’s.  On the world stage that may not be so, but the Kim dynasty is still with us and his story is not finished.  Certainly his statuary and mountain face carvings will outlast whatever Mao left behind.  In many places in Pyongyang, in every city, in every village there are tall stone sculptures carved with big characters that say the same thing over and over; “THE PRESIDENT KIM IL SUNG IS ALWAYS WITH US”.

With those thoughts in my head, we raced to the train station to catch the express to Dandong on the south-western edge of north-eastern China immediately across the Amnok River from Sinuiju, North Korea and very near the Gulf of West Korea (let me know if you find it on a map).  It was late afternoon when the train pulled out of the station so we did not have much daylight to see the countryside.  However, what I saw looked a lot like the rice lands of both Koreas.  With 4 hours to relax, I cuddled up with North of the DMV and the time flew by.  I thought about writing and decided to unwind instead.  Mark spent his time in the corridor playing with the kids on our coach and chatting with the guys.

Enough for now.  I hope you are finding our tale interesting.   There is much I would find hard to believe if I had not experienced it.

More to come, Julia

September 30, 2010

In China, the sun rises first in the city of Dandong, which means Red East.  It is also the eastern terminus of the Great Wall.  Everyone enjoyed a wonderful sleep and delicious breakfast in our luxuriously soothing first class hotel, the Dandong Crowne Plaza, where Mark and I had a room looking over the Amnok (Chinese name) or Yalu (NK name) River and into the darkness that is North Korea.   Our first excursion was a small boat ride on a tributary of the Yalu the  River that divides China from the western half of North Korea. (The eastern half is divided by theTuman River.) As the river is undivided, our boat can go close to the NK shore so long as we do not touch it.  We were within a couple of feet in a few places, but the bank sloped steeply for about 10 feet affording poor visibility.  There was little to attract the eye as there were only a few gun-toting guards and bent old people looking back at us.  We say a couple of pillbox size guard shacks and a small cluster of single story detached houses and virtually nothing else.  I was so intent on looking that way that it was not until the boat turned and I looked in the direction of Dandong that my breath went out of me as I suddenly felt the awe this city of 3.5 million inhabitants sitting on the edge of the north bank of the river must elicit from the North Korean guards and old people.   What must they think about what they see and surely hear?  Unlike the people in most of the country who have no experience of the outside world, these people cannot deny its existence.

This river is too wide and deep for people to swim across without being noticed and our boat driver told us it is against the law for boatmen to help anyone trying to swim across.  No wonder the majority of defectors use the eastern end of the Tumen River, which divides the eastern half of North Korea from China, where hundreds of thousands cross shallow water on foot.  They risk being shot if spotted or being caught by the Chinese and deported back, where they face being put into a labor camp for life.   I have read that sometimes the guards are lax, lazy or indifferent and look the other way.  Often the defectors find safe houses owned by Chinese North Koreans and get moved further into the interior and away from the border.  Still, they are illegal aliens and must stay on guard to keep from being caught without papers.  Many gradually matriculate into Chinese culture.  Some work until they earn enough and risk going back and forth to North Korea to take money and food to their families.  A small number make it to South Korea, where they are given citizenship, a place to stay while they are taught how to survive in the 13th largest economy in the world, about $20,000 to get them started and then they are discharged into society to sink or swim.  If they have family in the South, they gravitate there and are helped along.  Without family, many of them have a really hard time adjusting, even after years of being in the South.

Anyway, the North Korea side of the river was off limits to photography.  Felt a bit like we were back in the country.  We were told the village was for the wives of military officials, who liked to come here on R&R.  Was not the least bit appealing to me, but I am not a North Korean military officer’s wife.  The landscape was flat, nearly denuded of trees and suffering from the debris of recent flooding.

Back on the Chinese shore, we drove easterly along gentle rolling terrain with many peach and chestnut orchards.  After half an hour we came to the Great Wall terminus and climbed it for a look at….more of the same.  The wall and towers are very similar to the part of the wall you see near Beijing, but the scenery is not as dramatic or colorful.  I remembered traveling with my parents in 1981 to Dunhuang, near the Taklimakan Desert and the western end of the Great Wall, and sensed the great distance between the two ends.  This part of the wall was built by the Ming Dynasty during the early 1500’s and finished in 1549 to repel the Mongol horsemen.  It did not work.  Thankfully there were no photo restrictions here and lots of happy, chattering Chinese.

Then we drove further east another 30 kilometers to see a grammar school attended by Mao’s eldest son.  The school has been rebuilt by the son’s wife in his memory.  There is a large room dedicated to him and filled with photos and information about his life.  The story is interesting in a couple of ways.  It is about how Mao came to die without an heir and, for us, about how his life contrasted with Kim Il Sung’s life in that Kim has been able to start a dynasty.  His grandson, Kim Jung Un, was already 11 or 12 when he died in 1994.

Mao had three sons by his first wife.  The eldest was born in 1922.  While Mao was off creating a communist movement and fighting the Kuomintang as well as the Japanese, she was put into prison by the Japanese and died there.  The sons were left on the streets as orphans.  They were finally picked up by Mao supporters, but the youngest one died of dysentery at the age of 5.  The other two were sent to Russia to get them away from the fighting and to study.  Cho En Lai and his wife visited them in Russia (we saw the photo).  Something was noticeably wrong with the second son, so he was left in Russia.  There is no further info about him.  The eldest son, who was quite handsome, returned to China when he finished high school and finally spent time with his father.  He was given a variety of jobs to learn skills. He married a pretty girl that Mao chose for him, but had not yet had any children by 1950.  When Mao decided to enter the Korean War in October 1950, he immediately volunteered to go to the front.  He died in Korea in November leaving Mao without an heir.

Kim Il Sung’s family history is more bizarre as he kept it shrouded in mystery. What I have learned came from biographies on the web.  His first wife was captured and killed by the Japanese in 1940.  His second wife, Kim Chong Suk, is recognized as a heroine by the people.  She had three sons and a daughter.  The first died early in a swimming accident and the last died in childbirth along with Kim’s wife in 1949.  He is known to have had a third wife and four more children, but the North Koreans deny any suggestion of the existence of the first or third wives and additional children.  Kim Jung Il was born February 16, 1942 in a Siberian army camp, but that location is inauspicious so the whole country has come to believe that he was born in a log cabin on the slopes of the highest mountain in the country, Mt Paektu. To amplify the messianic nature of the myth the people also say that a double rainbow, a bright star in the sky and a swallow descending from heaven heralding his birth.   How’s that for a religious message in an atheistic country?  Turns out Kim Il Sung was raised a Christian from his birth in 1912 through his teens.

His daughter, Jang Song-thaek is close with her brother, Kim Jung Il and has a high position in the government.   We have learned that Kim Jung Il had three sons, possibly each with a different mother. There is never any mention of a wife.  The two oldest sons are, it is believed, not in the country.  It is unclear what happened to them and why.  The prize goes to the third son.  None of our guides acknowledged ever having heard that Kim Jung Il had three sons and that Kim Jung Un is the youngest.  They acted shocked when we told them and, of course, disbelieving.    We did not go further to suggest that the youngest son may be illegitimate.   That seemed a bit too much.  Are they really so uninformed or unable to consider the notion that they have been lied to or are they afraid to admit knowing things they are not supposed to know in the presence of their comrades?  Your guess is as good as mine.  For more NK history, check out the web.

Lunch was at a place near the river and a broken bridge that only goes half way since the war.  The food was interesting and varied including a couple of dishes containing cooked chestnuts.  We were served with wooden chopsticks.  Later I bought a couple of late season peaches along the roadside.  They were ok, but too late in the season to be great.  Mark asked about the price of fuel in the area and calculated 92 octane to be $3.25 a gallon.

Back in Dandong we climbed the 293 meter Dandong Tower to see the view and peer across the river at the treeless, brown and desolate NK.  Not much to see.  Onward to the War Memorial Museum, the largest in China dedicated to the Korean War.  There was much to see and learn about the conflict from the Chinese perspective, which, with a few twists of perception and analysis, is much closer to the US version of the war.  Saw lots of battle drawings, photographs, posters, war machinery, guns, tanks, planes.  What most interested me was difference in the various stories.  MacArthur, for example, was sure the bad guy from a lot of angles.  I felt like buying some books and deciphering the war for myself.  Maybe, with a drink over dinner, I will get over that notion.  Can’t you just see me becoming a Korean War expert?

Finally we got to a shop where Mark could buy Kim Il Sung pins and I could buy the traditional Korean dress, called a hanbok—luckily there was one in…. purple.  Now we are set.

We had one final meal in a North Korean restaurant, complete with very pretty singing waitresses from NK, who are here with permission.  They live above the restaurant and send their earnings home.  They have minders like we had and only go out in groups with an escort. I understood that they do 2 year stints and then return home.  The restaurant owner must do very well.  The place was packed.  Afterwards Mark and I walked along a Japanese bridge completed in 1943 and partially bombed during the war.  It has been made into a historical tourist attraction with photos and stories about the history of the bridge, carpeting along the old rail bed, piped music all the way and colorful lights shining from the city buildings.  From North Korea where there is limited electricity and very few lights, the sight of Dandong lit up like Disneyland must inspire more than awe—maybe envy, maybe anger, surely sadness and wonder.  I thought Dandong over did the colored, blinking lighting on every building, but it certainly made a statement.

One more lovely night in the Crowne Plaza and we were out in the morning for another boat ride on a larger boat that held lots of tourists.  This time we went up and down the main part of the Yalu.  We did not get very close to shore, but we did motor by an industrial area where we saw several people loading heavy sacks of rice or corn off a boat and onto a truck.  There was almost no mechanization, mostly manual labor.  In another place we say huge bags of what Mark thought was charcoal.

West of Dandong the border crosses the river and follows the highway to the coast.  We were within a few feet of the dividing barbed wire fence in places, but again not photographs.  A truck load of Chinese police drove buy and stopped us to make sure we did not have our cameras at the ready.  That was probably a closer call than anything we experienced in NK.  I barely got my camera out of the way in time.  Finally they left us and we drove on to the airport for our 1pm flight to Beijing on Air China.  In Beijing we transferred our luggage from one terminal to another with Walter’s help, said good bye to him and and rechecked our bags onto the 6pm flight to Seoul on China Southern.   We managed to catch the last bus limo into the city and got to the Millennium Hilton Hotel near the train station by 11:30pm.  Fortunately we did not need to be on the train until noon so we could relax and enjoy the sumptuous suite into which we were unexpectedly upgraded.  After North Korea the Dandong Crowne Plaza was a blessing.  This hotel was over the top.  In the morning we could see that the city was filled with gentle hills and covered with whole neighborhoods of low rises, interspersed with canyons of very high and interestingly shaped towers of steel and glass.  Even from our suite windows we could tell it was a very stimulating city even though we were not even near the center.  We were sorry to have to leave it so soon.

October 2, 2010

By the way, we have had mostly wonderful autumn weather the whole time—sunny, gently warm, with no humidity.  In NK it was often overcast and a bit rainy in the morning, but always clear and warm in the afternoons.  South Korea proved to be even better.  We had clear crisp mornings that warmed in the afternoon.  No humidity and pleasant evenings.  Had only one big storm the evening we were in the pizza parlor in Pyongyang and temporarily lost power.  It ended before we left the restaurant.

Not sure what we would encounter in the train station, we arrived early.  Naturally then, we had no trouble finding the correct track and train car spot had to cool our heels awhile waiting for the train.  When it arrived, we were on with all our bags and a few minutes to spare before it pulled out precisely on time.  We whizzed most comfortably south-east through the dense, rice harvest-ready countryside at 186 miles per hour to a city called Dongdaegu.  There we transferred to a slower, but reasonably comfortable train to Gyeongju, the capital of ancient Korea and full of UNESCO sites.  We noticed that the fields along the whole route were almost as small as the fields in the north, but where the North Koreans are still working the fields by hand and ox, the Koreans have produced small, efficient machines to do the work.  The scenery, except for the modernization, looked the same in both countries.  We arrived late in the afternoon and took a taxi to our new, ultra modern, austere and nearly empty hotel.  Neither of us liked it, but we decided to make it do as we had made the choice ourselves, against our travel agent’s suggestion, and already paid for it.  We walked to nearby Bomun Lake where we found lots of people enjoying themselves in front of the Hyundai Hotel, the very one our agent had recommended.  Since we were to be in the area for three nights we inquired about changing to the Hyundai and found that they had rooms.  We determined to transfer the next day.  Back at the Gyeongju Suites Hotel, we had a good western dinner and retired, or tried to.  The room was so warm we could not sleep regardless how low we set the AC or opened the windows.  The hotel, we learned, has a central HVAC system and on October 1st the temperature is set to 20 degrees centigrade for the winter season.  We could not wait to get out of there.  Our new guide arrived at 8:45 am and we had him work out the details with the local operator.  By mid day we had a room reserved in the Hyundai at no extra charge.  That was a relief.  We set off with Kim Suyeol, or True Man as he calls himself, to see the local sights.

First we went some distance out of town, in a private car with TrueMan at the wheel, to one of Korea’s best know temples, the Bulguksa, which translates: Bul = Buddhist; gu = country and sa = temple.  It was built by the Silla dynasty in 535AD and enlarged in 752.  The original wooden structures are long gone, but there are newer reconstructions and the place is an active temple.  The most interesting elements are the original stone structures from 752 –bridges, walkways, stairs, pagodas.  TrueMan was full of interesting tidbits of Buddhist lore that were readily available on the property.

Bamboo, for example, has many meanings.

It is straight and therefore true; its green leaves stay green, which refer to an unchanging mind;

it is flexible and therefore adaptable, which is to be humanistic;

the stalk is hollow, which allows evil thoughts to pass through;

and segmented, suggesting the completion of one project before moving to another.

He also talked about the symbolism of numbers, especially 3, 6, 9 and 12; about Ying and Yang; about the mouth in the open position sounding “ah” and in the closed position sounding “ommm”; about everything having three parts—head or God, body or human and root or earth and much more I won’t bore you with.

With all this new information we grew hungry and TrueMan took us to his favorite Noodle restaurant back in town.  We had a delightful bowl of noodles in what we would call a fast food joint.  Afterwards we crossed the street into a park and hiked a short distance up a trail toward Mount Namsan.  It was TrueMan’s idea that we needed to exercise after lunch.  Fortunately we had little time or he would have had us hiking to the top, I’m sure.  Instead, we made a series of stops: first, at a pavilion where we saw a tortoise shaped wine conveyor, that is a small waterway in the shape of a tortoise that the Silla king of the day used to float cups of wine around to his guests—a bit odd; Second, the Gyeongju National Museum where we saw many Silla Dynasty (668–918AD) artifacts.  Especially interesting were the unusual gold crowns and girdles found in royal Silla tombs, and a 19 ton, 11 feet tall bronze bell (named Emille for the baby that was supposedly thrown into the mold with the hot bronze to give it a good tone) that is reputed to be one of the largest and most resonant in Asia (in both Koreas we saw a lot of such bells, but none as large as this one); Third, the Anapji Pond, where the Silla royal family relaxed, and which was drained in 1974 to reveal a veritable treasure trove of Silla castoffs—some fine, but most quite ordinary—which are displayed in a nearby building we walked through, the best of which was an unusual 20 meter long, canoe-shaped, wooden boat with two sizeable square dowels that held three carved wooden beams together.

What I must tell you is that, as soon as TrueMan found out we had been in the north, he could not keep from asking us questions.  When at the sites he would put on his guide hat, but back in the car he was all questions again.  This happened everywhere we went in the south.  If we mentioned where we had been, people stared at us and were compelled to ask questions.  We did not mind.  It was fun to recall our observations and interesting to hear their comments.  Everyone wants reunification and is, at the same time, afraid of it.  I feel the same.  Reunification, however it happens, will be a very difficult and painful process.

At last TrueMan took us to the Hyundai, where we happily checked into our lake front room with a balcony and lots of cool air.  We enjoyed Japanese tempura and sushi in the hotel and went to bed.

Next day, October 4, TrueMan is raring to go at 8:30.  He has decided that we are to see more than what is on the itinerary—to have a, tsk-tsk, “TrueMan Tour”.  Heading SE out of town again we stopped, not far from Bulguksa Temple, at the Seokguram Grotto parking lot and hiked a kilometer or more to the sixth century grotto, which contains “one of the world’s finest shrines of Buddha” according to the guide book.  Getting up there took my breath away.  I had no trouble breathing in front of the shrine, especially since it was behind glass and photography was not allowed.   It was, indeed, a lovely, serene image of Buddha gazing out over the forested hills to the East Sea.  The Sakyamuni Buddha, bodhisattvas and guardian deities are covered by a round, carved granite dome representing heaven that is considered an architectural feat.  In front of that is the square area representing earth and humans.  Apparently the grotto had been covered over during the Confucius period, when his supporters tried to destroy all Buddha images.  Gradually the location was lost through the centuries and was stumbled upon by a postman in 1913 and almost immediately rebuilt.  Both this grotto and the Bulguksa Temple are UNESCO world heritage sites. Back at the bottom of the hill was a large bronze bell we were allowed, for $1, to ring.  Both Mark and I took advantage of the opportunity.  The best part of the sound is the hum and vibration that goes on inside the bell long after the tone stops.  When I put my ear to it, I could feel the vibration throughout my body. Ah-Omm.

Next we visited a”TrueMan” site, the GolGul Temple which consists of 12 temples carved into a mountain.  We had another walk up to the mountain face and then realized that TrueMan expected us to climb up the rock face to visit all the temples—so, of course, we did.  It was tough going.  All the footholds were carved out of the rock and roaps and steep pipes were necessary to pull ourselves up.  It was not fun with my bad hip, but I refused to give up and finally made it to the top.  As we passed each temple cave we could here monks chanting and playing instruments.  Each song was different, but together the sounds were enchanting.  I snuck a few photos, in spite of the spiritual aspect of the place.  The way down was a little easier, but I was glad to be back on flat ground.  With that out of the way we were taken around the corner to a Taekwondo Center where TrueMan used to practice.  Unfortunately, no one is there on Mondays, so we had to content ourselves with looking at the facility, which was set nicely into the mountains.  TrueMan was sorry about the mistake.

The next TrueMan destination was right on money.  We went to Bongill Beach on the East Sea, which means we have now crossed the Korean peninsula from the North West to the South East.  The beach itself was rocky, but the water was a nice color.  The area was a bit scruffy and unappealing, even the fishermen, boats and small beach side village seemed bleached and worn out.  Vendor booths for weekend visitors were all closed on Mondays.  TrueMan pointed out the one tourist attraction, a cluster of jagged rocks about 100 meters off shore, which supposedly was the tomb of a Silla king, who wanted to be buried where he could protect Korea from evils in and on the sea.  We watched a female shaman setting up a large spread of fruits, rice, clothing and other items on a long table on the beach.   TrueMan thought it might be for a family that paid big money for her to pray for a deceased relative.  After hanging out there for awhile and wondering why we were there at all, TrueMan finally took us to a restaurant where he had made reservations. Obviously, we were early and needed to kill time.  All frustration soon evaporated.  We were ushered into a corner room with glass walls right over the water and shared a fabulous meal.  Sitting on the floor while dining at a low table was never so enchanting.   We ate lots of different raw and grilled fish and loved every bite.  Wish I could tell you what all we ate, but I was too busy eating to take notes.  We all stuffed ourselves.  Fortunately, the walk TrueMan had us take after that meal was on level ground at a large indoor and outdoor fish market.  Many of the fish were kept alive in large aquariums with sea water being pumped through continuously.  That is what I call “fresh fish”.   TrueMan bought some to take home to his wife.  What a thoughtful guy!

Heading back to Gyeongju, we were now done with the TrueMan tour and back on our itinerary.  Just a few more stops…groan, groan.  However, they were interesting.  The first was Cheomseongdae Observatory, Asia’s oldest existing one, built during the reign of Queen Sunduk (632-647).  It is bottle shaped and has a square window midway up the side that is believed to have served as an entrance reached by a ladder.  The place was surrounded by groups of students on field trips with their teachers.  Apparently, Mondays are field trip days.  Each group would wait its turn to get close and then sit on the ground in a tight group and listen to the teacher tell them about the observatory’s history.  They were all quite charming and well disciplined.  TrueMan remembered that when he was a kid there was a ladder and he and his buddies used to climb up and into the observatory, which is full of rocks to the bottom of the doorway so you can stand inside.

Lastly we visited Tumuli Park to see a collection of 23 royal Silla tombs.  Like tombs we have see in several places in both the north and the south, these tombs are large, steep grass covered mounds.  Each one holds one person.  Some are double hills for a king and queen.  Smaller mounds are for less important people and very small mounds are for common folk.  More than 200 royal tombs are found in Gyeongju.  Most have never been opened.  One tomb in this park, called Flying Horse Tomb after an image of a horse on an artifact, was opened in 1974 and revealed over 10,000 artifacts, many of which we saw in the National Museum, such as the unusual gold crown I mentioned.  We were welcome to go inside this tomb and see how it was constructed and how the artifacts had been arranged.  The coffin is placed inside a square or rectangular wooden enclosure the size of a small room, then small and increasingly larger rocks are piled all around and over it to several feet in depth and finally grass is sown over the top.  Over time the wood rots and the tomb collapses. We have seen some tombs where the dent from the cave in is apparent.  There must be many more treasures to discover, but there is resistance to opening more of them as the people still worship their ancestors and the process is time consuming and costly.

Our last stop was the traditional market in the center of town.  We wanted to by Korean chopsticks and look around.  It was a typical market with most shops under awnings on narrow pedestrian streets.  A few streets had regular indoor shops.  It did not take long before we had had enough.  On the way back to the car TrueMan spotted a shrub he recognized as the herb “chapi”, which meant nothing to us.  He had us pop one of the small red berry-like seeds in our mouth.  Without hesitation, we, the trusting souls that we are, did as he said and very soon our tongue and lips were numb and tingly and spicy hot. What an unexpected sensation.  TrueMan stood there and laughed at us.  He said it is used in kimchee, soups to spice them up.  It was because the berry was not ripe that we got the tingling sensation.   The sensation lasted half an hour or so.  Later we found some dried black chapi in a market.  They had a slightly sweet, spicy taste with only a hint of tingles.

After the whirlwind TruMan put us through, we were exhausted and almost glad to say good bye.  We will have a different guide to take us back to Dongdeagu the next day.  Being still full from that huge fish lunch, we decided to pass on dinner.  Mark went down stairs, bought some ice cream which we ate in the room.  Meanwhile we made phone contact with Jun Moon Ju, Paul Jun’s niece who lives in Seoul and speaks very good English. ( Paul, the owner of the Perko’s Restaurant in Grass Valley, suggested we meet her.)  We chatted a bit and made a date for dinner the next night. Door open, air cool, lights out…sleep tight honey.

Hang in there.  There are still a few exciting days left.

Julia and Mark

October 5, 2010

David, our driver-guide for the day, was a real surprise.  He was from Isreal, studied in India, married a Korean lady who was also studying there and eventually settled in her home town of Gyeungju.  He spoke very good English, but his Korean history was not as thorough as TrueMan’s.  His job was to drive us to the Dongdeagu train station a couple of hours away, show us a major temple along the way and squeeze in lunch somewhere.  We got him so engrossed in talking about modern Korean history that he missed a couple of turns and then his driving became a bit erratic. This was more unnerving than all our time in North Korea.  Mark noticed that there was something strange with one of his eyes and we wondered if that was the cause of his unusual driving.  We made it safely and learned a lot along the way.

He was planning to talk about ancient history as had TrueMan, but when we explained why we were more interested in contemporary history and how it compared with the same time period in the north, he did his best to remember details he had not personally experienced.  The first president to the ROK (Republic of Korea) was a civilian named Kim, who was popularly elected in 1948.  There was a very brief period of peace from then until June 8, 1950 when the North Korean forces under Kim Il Sung invaded the south and took over most of the country within a few weeks as neither the south nor the UNC nor the US were the slightest bit prepared.  We gathered our forces and fought back.  Look elsewhere for info on the Korean War.  After the Armistice was signed in 1953, another civilian was elected president in about 1954.  The ROK was almost as devastated as the north.  Severe flooding in the mid fifties, compounded by high taxes and the confiscation of most of the rice harvests to pay the government debts for borrowing to rebuild infrastructure caused great poverty and famine.  Life during the fifties and 60’s was actually better in the north than in the south.  The people protested. There was a revolt in 1961 and a military general named Parks took over and became a dictator.  His aim was to industrialize the country and shift away from agriculture.  Under him  companies like Samsung, POSCO and Hyundai began to develop into the huge industrial machine Korea is today.  Ship building and auto factories were built in the South East as well as steel mills.  People were put to work and the infrastructure began to be rebuilt, but Parks was hated by many for his dictatorial ways and there were several attempts on his life.  David told us the story of his wife’s uncle who was a guerilla fighter who, along with some others, made an attempt to kill Parks.  He was caught and charged with the death penalty.  While he was in prison, someone else killed Parks in 1978.  The next leader was another dictator named General Jung, who released the educated elite and political prisoners who had been incarcerated by Parks.  David said he enjoys hearing his uncle-in-law tell the story.  Jung was not as despised as Parks and continued the industrialization of the country.  He opened relations with many more countries and the ROK, with continuing assistance from the US, began to prosper rapidly during the 80’s and 90’s, while North Korea stopped making improvements and began to stagnate and decline in the late 80’s with the decline in support from Russia and China.  By the time Jung dies, the modernizing elite had laid the bases for economic and social conditions that lead to democratization. Korea returned to a constitutional government and held elections.  During the first decade of this century the ROK presidents held summits with the north and developed good relations with Kim Jung Il.  People on both sides were hopeful about reunification.  The current president, Lee Myung Bak came into office in February 2008.  He has done some good things for the country.   As a member of the G-20, Korea, through Lee’s efforts, made a successful bid to hold the G-20 Summit in Korea in November, 2010.  It will be the first non-G-8 country to take the chairmanship of the forum.  Korea has recently been admitted to the DAC as its 24th member.  DAC members provide more than 90 percent of the world’s aid for impoverished developing nations, and South Korea is the only member nation that has gone from being an aid beneficiary to a donor.

He is pro-US and takes an aggressive position toward North Korea.  Here is a paragraph taken from Wikipedia that fairly sums up the current policy:

“A longtime opponent of the ‘Sunshine Policy’ carried out by his predecessors Kim Dae-Jung and Roh Moo-Hyun, Lee shifted towards a more aggressive policy on North Korea, promising to provide massive economic assistance but only after North Korea abandoned its suspected nuclear weapons programs. The ultimate goal of the administration regarding inter-Korean relation is based on the “non-nuclear, openness, 3000” plan that entails reciprocity and mutual benefit between the two Koreas in order to achieve economic advancement and bring about happiness among the people living in the Korean peninsula. The current inter-Korean situation is undergoing a massive transitional period. The administration, however, made it clear that it will pursue a more productive policy that eventually would contribute to the peaceful reunification, but only after North Korea gives up its nuclear ambitions and adopts a more open-minded approach. The North Korean government viewed this as confrontational and responded by calling Lee a “traitor” and an “anti-North confrontation advocator”. The North Korean response included the expulsion of South Korean officials from an inter-Korean industrial complex, the launching of naval missiles into the sea, and the deployment of MIGs and army units provocatively close to the DMZ. Domestically, Lee’s critics claim his strategy will only serve to antagonize the Kim Jung Il regime and undermine progress towards friendly North-South relations.”

 After two hours of non-stop talking and driving, we arrived in the mountains above Deagu at the one Temple Mark and I had been looking forward to seeing.  It is a UNESCO world heritage site called Haeinsa (Haein meaning “reflection on a flat sea”, sa meaning “temple”), perhaps the best known temple in Korea.  Established in 802 and containing many treasures in over 90 buildings, the main and only attraction for us was the collection of over 80,000 wooden printing blocks, which contain the Tripitaka Koreana , the most complete collection of Buddhist Canon found in east Asia.

David told us that when Buddha died at the age of 80 in 552BC, 500 enlightened monks decided to preserve the 84,000 sutras (teachings or discourses of Buddha and his disciple Ananda)  by reciting them until they had them all memorized precisely as Buddha said them.  Sometime around 523BC, the sutras were written on palm leaves in Sri Lanka.  From then on every 100 years, monks would get together to review the sutras for accuracy and memorize them again.  The sutras were divided into three (tripitaka) “baskets” of teaching:  1) teachings for lay disciples, 2) rules for monks and nuns, each rule being explained with an example, and 3) analysis of mind and matter, an analytical study from the very gross to the very subtle.

In 802, during the Silla dynasty, two monks went to China to study Buddhism.  When they returned they, through some miracle, convinced the king to build a temple to Buddha and his teachings to help keep the Mongols away.  Eventually it was decided to carve the sutras on wood to help the people to remember the teachings.  The carving started in 1011 and went on for 77 years.  However, the Mongols came in 1232 and burned the whole temple including the sutras.  In 1236 the monks started again.  This time the carvings were finished in 16 years and, to this day, are contained in the same wooden structures that held them originally.  The construction and ventilation are so perfect that there is no mold even in winter and there are no animals, birds, bugs or spider webs to be found.  Some years ago scientists thought to improve on the safety and storage of the tablets, but found that nothing could be done that was better than the wooden structures.  They were an incredible sight, all of them stored in four rectangular buildings that are laid out in a rectangle.  On all four sides of each building there are two rows of openings, each containing wooden slats spaced 2-3 inches apart to reduce light and keep people out.   The lower openings on one side are large while the upper openings on that side are smaller.  The reverse is true on the other side.  The beams and roof are high with large overhangs that are open to the circulation but keep out the sun and rain.   The floor also is made of special substances including clay, ash and other materials that somehow detract animals, bugs and insects.  Even birds avoid the buildings so there are no droppings anywhere.  It was an amazing place.  Each wooden tablet was, to my eye, about 2 ½ feet long by 14 inches high and 1 ½ inches thick.  The whole tablet was encased in a metal frame for easier handling and stability of the wood over time.  There was carving only on one side, with each character carved in reverse for printing purposes.  It is an incredible treasure for the Korean people.  During the Korean War, a Korean air force pilot was ordered to bomb the Temple because the enemy was nearby.  He flew over the temple, but could not pull the trigger.  He radioed his officer that he was refusing to follow the order.  In the end he was made a hero for not damaging the temple.  Again, we were not supposed to take photos, but using a high ISO and no flash I was able to catch a few without being noticed.

This was an very interesting morning and soon we arrived at the Dongdeagu train station, said good bye to David and flew back to Seoul at 297 kilometers/hour.  We took a taxi to our next and last hotel, the Silla and were in the room only 20 minutes when Moon called to say she was down stairs.  When she arrived at the door, she had a girlfriend and her 19 month old baby with her.  We agreed on a dinner location and off we all went in her friend’s car to an “in” neighborhood called Insa-Dong.  It proved to be a collection of narrow pedestrian streets loaded with neon lights and small art galleries, shops and restaurants.  They picked, of all things, a Korean restaurant.  Mark and I were politely agreeable but stared longingly at an Italian place we passed on the way.  The food was…what can I say….Korean.  Since the petite ladies did the ordering, there was less variety then we had generally been served.  We tried to make conversation, but the baby was totally distracting and the ladies hardly ate anything.  There was also a large age gap and we were at a loss how to keep the conversation going.  Finally, we paid the bill and walked around looking at the stores and people.  I continued to marvel at the difference between Korea and North Korea, even though the people look and speak the same.  After awhile, Moon suggested we stop at an upstairs Tea House.  It was quite contemporary and hip.  I had a nice Chrysanthemum tea and Mark had water.  Moon disappeared for awhile and returned with a framed picture of traditional Korean masks for us.  We were dumbfounded.  Did she really expect us to carry a 2x2x2 glass framed picture home?  We graciously said thank you and wondered what we would do with it.  Moon and her friend were really cute and sweet young women and the baby was four hands full.  I felt really old and out of date and Mark was rendered speechless.  Fortunately, we did not stay out late and were dropped off by 9:30.

October 6, 2010

Today is the day we saw the DMZ from the South Korean side.  We met our bus group at a midtown hotel and proceeded north with a bus full of Japanese and a handful of English speakers.  There were two guides and they took turns speaking to each group.  Out guide, Geana-Lee, filled us with many facts you will be happy to know I did not write down.  We drove to Mt Odu Observatory for a close, but dim and hazy view of the DMZ and the North.  We were glad we already knew what it looked like up close.  There were a number of interesting historical maps and photos of the Korean War, a movie theater for viewing scenes from the war, a collection of war planes and equipment and a store where South Koreans could see and buy North Korean goods.  It fascinated me to watch the South Koreans poke through things with which we had so recently become familiar, such as North Korean beer and chopsticks.  I became all too clear that the South does not know the North anymore than the North knows the South.  Such a pity to be so close and yet so far apart.  There was also a room full of samples of the clothing the North Koreans supposedly wear including underwear.   I recognized some things, but most looked pretty out of date to me.  But then, I did not see anyone’s underwear in the North.  I can say I inspected a lot of restrooms in all three countries and can tell you ladies that North Korea has virtually no western toilets, outside the tourist hotels.  In Beijing and South Korea, where there are one or two western toilets in many public bathrooms, I never had to wait even when there was a line, because the Asian women seem to prefer Asian toilets and would rather wait for a free one than sit on a western commode. Lucky me. Now doesn’t that inspire you to want to visit these countries.?!

I had just the luck mentioned above at the restaurant our bus load along with others stopped for lunch.  I hate such group events.  Anyway, you know by now what we were served.…yep….another traditional Korean meal.  Thankfully, this was our last one.

Luckily, lunch was overshadowed by a North Korean defector, who accompanying our group somewhat as an ambassador.  We got to meet her and talk a bit through our guide.  She was petit, nicely dressed and pretty, but bone thin, I realized when we put our arms around each other for a photo.   She had a nice smile, but seemed a little nervous and unsure of herself.  She told us she had defected in April through the NE corner of NK via the Yalu (NK) or Tuman (China) River I have described.  She said she traveled to Cambodia where she was taken care of by protestant ministers before eventually flying from Beijing to Seoul, just as others we have read about have done.  She grew up in the NE industrial city of Chongjin and had somehow gotten transferred to Pyongyang where she worked as a secretary for 8 years.  She said she had good career possibilities until her grandfather defected and sadly died after a heart attack three days after entering China.  Having no future in the North she chose to defect, leaving her mother and two younger brothers behind.  She reluctantly gave me her name, which, in case this document should ever become a best seller, I will not put down.  Shortly after our brief meeting, she departed.  Our guide told us she was hired to come on these bus tours to share some of her experience with guests and make a little money.  My heart goes out to her and the other defectors for their incredible courage.

The DMZ was “lack luster and anticlimactic” said Mark of the South Korean side of the JSA (Joint Security Area).  We changed to a US military bus and were escorted by Specialist Casiano from North Carolina, who had seen two tours of duty in Afghanistan and been at Camp Bonifas for only 7 weeks.  Again we were not allowed to take photos.  Something about the military uniform and the polite way in which he said he would confiscate our cameras made me obey the order.  When we got to the JSA buildings we had seen from the North, our experience was much more sedate and decorous.  We nearly marched into the Armistice signing room and were allowed to take photos, but not sit on the furniture.  When we were on the tour from the North, the Chinese were all over the furniture and talking really loudly.  I preferred the solemnity of the South tour in that regard.  Here we were allowed to take photos, thankfully.  The big open and airy building we stood in front of to take photos of the north side of the DMZ had been built, we learned, to provide a meeting place for families from the North and South to gather.  Unfortunately, it has never been used.  From the north, this building looks new and very inviting compared to the other buildings in the JSA and puts the North Korean buildings to shame.  Back on the bus, we drove passed the infamous tree where Captain Bonifas was killed by North Korean military men wielding axes.  His intent had been to limb the tree as it was blocking the view from one outpost to another.  The scandal nearly caused another war, but things settled down and later, a large contingent of the military, including air force planes and battleships were ready and waiting while the army went out and cut down the tree—which was, in fact, on the North side of the DMZ.  Thus the name, Camp Bonifas.

On the way back to Seoul, we did learn about the 44,000 North Koreans that work in 121 South Korean factories in a designated area not far north of the DMZ.  This is a friendship program to help people in the north have jobs.  The businesses are supervised by South Koreans, who spend a month working on site, then return home, while someone else takes their place.  I am not sure what happens to the products that are made.  Coming into Seoul, we could see the low mountains that surround the city and the large Han River that runs through it.  Mark described the city as compact, vertical and vibrant.  We agreed it is almost, but not quite, as pretty as San Francisco.

We were let off the bus down town and went for a walk around the City Hall area and especially to a park called Cheonggyecheon Stream, or simple The Stream.  I had read about it in our guide book and was glad we went there.  It meanders through a long, wide and straight hole in the ground between two busy streets. On both sides of The Stream wide sidewalks and verdant landscaping fill the space.   Much art–ancient, modern and contemporary–lines the walls below the streets.  There are fountains, multiple cascading waterfalls, soft music piped along the walk and many people enjoying themselves.  Living art works were happening while we were there including: a woman in a long white gown walking slowly in the Stream pulling on colored streamers and creating different visual images as she walked; and two people wearing transparent, colored plastic cubes over their heads and interacting silently with people in the crowd that gathered around them.  We were invited to write our dreams on ribbons and hang them, artistically if possible, on a metal framework with strings hanging from it.  I could have stayed at The Stream a long time, but finally Mark reminded me we needed to eat and he wanted a drink so we found an Italian restaurant, Mezalune, and had a good Italian dinner.  In the taxi we could see the high rises all lit up and the changing shapes of the neighborhoods as we passed.  Seoul is quite an interesting and pretty city.  In addition to the museums and sights, there are many shopping malls above and underground as well as theaters and restaurants.  It seems like it would be just as easy to fly 10 hours non-stop from SFO to Seoul to see, shop and enjoy good entertainment and food as to fly to Paris, London or Rome.   No visa required for South Korea either.

Anyway, back as the Silla Hotel, we made arrangements to meet our last guide at 8:30 and went to bed.  The Silla is an ok hotel, but not the 5-star room we thought we booked.

October 7, 2010

This was our last full day in Korea and we made the most of it.  Natalie, our guide, picked us up on time and off we went in a van with a separate driver.  It was definitely easier for her to talk without having to negotiate her way around town too.

Our first stop was the War Memorial Museum.  We arrived ahead of the crowds and were able to walk the outdoor corridor where all the deceased Korean War servicemen and women from the16 UNC countries who participated were listed.  The vast majority, over 54,000, were US soldiers.  It was a sobering walk. Then we entered the museum and a docent took us to the top floor to see lots of war things that did not interest us, except that we found the displays most appealing to people and even interactive with children.  It was well laid out.  Then we walked down to the first floor where the Korean War and other more recent, conflicts with the North were displayed just as interestingly as the upstairs displays.  I was so taken by each object or photo we passed that it was hard to keep up with the guide.  Mark, of course, didn’t bother and went his own pace.  Will I ever learn?  It was especially interesting to compare the three war museums we visited on this trip—the one in Pyongyang, where the US Aggressors and their South Korean puppets  invaded North Korea and were severely defeated by the Korean Peoples’ Army—the one in Dandong, where the Chinese routed the US and the South Koreans with little help of the Korean Peoples’ Army and –the one in Seoul, where the North Invaded the South and nearly took over the country but for the rapid deployment of US, British and UN forces who fought back nearly to China before being driven back to a line near the 38th parallel.  The last exhibit was about the May sinking of the South Korean war ship, Cheonan, by the North Koreans.  Even though it happened only recently, there was a full display including the part found with North Korean markings on it.  Yes, we saw it for ourselves.   A North Korean charge destroyed the ship near a disputed Island that belongs to the South, but which the North refuses to acknowledge.  Over the years, South Korean fishermen have been kidnapped while out fishing, taken to the North and trained over several years to be spies.  At least one was able to defect and has told the very sad story.  To learn more, Google North Korea and you will find many stories and videos.  There is even a web site that publishes news broadcasts from NK.  The propaganda you will see is similar to what we experienced daily when we were there.

From the War Museum, Natalie took us to the National Museum.  It was built in 2006 and is very large and modern.  One of the smallest, yet most important, artifacts in the museum was a single piece of metal type carefully encased in thick glass.  Although the first moveable-type system was created in China around 1040AD, the metal moveable-type system for printing was developed in Korea around 1230 AD.  This led to the printing of the oldest extant moveable metal print book called Jikji in 1377, nearly 100 years ahead of Gutenberg.  How’s that for a bit of trivia?  The Koreans are rightly proud.

One darkened room we almost missed contained full size images of the inside of the three tombs we had visited with Walter in North Korea, but into which only he was allowed.  I wrote about it at the time.  The images were of large horses and dragons and were like none I have seen in other tombs, such as those in Egypt.  I was glad to be able to see them in the museum and took several photos without flash.  Although we saw beautiful celadon porcelains and an exquisite bronze “pensive Bodhisattva” that is a National treasure, Mark and I were both on overload and barely listened to Natalie’s commentary.  Finally, I told her we had had enough and we left.  I think she was disappointed in us, but soon we were at a casual Vietnamese noodle restaurant she liked.  Mark had noodles and I had fresh spring rolls.  It was a nice change.

Walter had told us to be sure to visit the “Secret Garden”, so after lunch we headed to Changdeokgung Palace where the garden is located.  Natalie left us with a docent who insisted we walk slowly with the group and not get ahead of her.  The place turned out to be neither secret nor a garden.  It was more of a hilly woodland environment with lots of poorly maintained shrubs and trees and almost no flowers.  There were a few pavilions and water courses that were pleasant and photogenic.  We could have walked the whole concrete pathway in an hour, but it took us an additional 45 minutes.  Guess we were ready to come home.   Natalie then walked us at a good pace around the Palace itself and that was a bit more interesting as it remained inhabited until the 80’s and still had some furniture in it.  It was nothing like the palaces in Europe.  More like a very small version of the Forbidden City with some modern conveniences.

At last, we are done sightseeing!!!!  I wanted to return to the hotel, but we did not have time as our hotel was too far out of the way.  So, with no clean up options, we went directly to dinner at, of all places, a Tony Roma’s that happens to be near the theatre for which we had tickets. Natalie said she keeps the restaurant in the back of her mind for American tourists who admit to being tired of Korean food.  That fit us to a tee.  We invited her to join us and had fun chatting with her over ribs.  Soon it was time to say good bye to our last guide of the trip.  She left us at the door to the theater and in we walked.  The play, written and produced by Koreans, was a very funny, non-verbal performance called “Ninta”.  There were 4 “chefs” and a maître d, who were to prepare a wedding feast in just one hour.   They were all expert drummers and liberally beat away on every kitchen implement available.   They managed to chop and drum their way through many cabbages, carrots, cucumbers and onions and kept us in stitches much of the time.   We were in the 4th row and could see, hear and smell everything.   It felt good to end our Korean experience on a light note.  As we drove to the hotel, we were entertained one last time by the colorful, blinking, twinkling display’s of light throughout the city.

October 8, 2010

We relaxed at the hotel in the morning and took the limo bus to the airport at 12:30PM for our 4pm flight home on Asiana Airlines, which provided great seats that had lots of cubby holes for our stuff and opened perfectly flat.  There was even an electric jack to plug in the computer.   That made my day and night, as I spent nearly the whole flight writing message 4 of this journal and barely got to check out the bed.  Mark enjoyed the bed, a few movies and “The Coldest Winter” (a tome about MacArthur and the Korean War) on his Kindle.  We arrived in San Francisco 3 hours earlier than we left Seoul and admired the City by the Sea as we passed by.

Postscript

On October 10, North Korea celebrated the 65 Anniversary of the founding of the Workers Party.  We knew I was going to be a BIG deal as we saw the fireworks preparations and the masses of people practicing for the event.  There was a lot of anticipation about the first public appearance of the son and intended heir of Kim Jung Il.  Kim Jung Un’s photograph had appeared on the front page of the Korean papers and everyone said he looked like his grandfather.  We brought home a copy of that paper and agree that the photo looks like Kim Il Sung.    However, when we saw him on our news broadcast during the pomp and circumstance and later on the web, he looked more like an overweight pampered kid who is not prepared, if even capable, of running or controlling the country should something happen to daddy.  Kim Jung Il’s  sister was appointed to 4-star general at the same time the son was promoted and it is presumed that she and her husband, who has been close to Kim Jung Il for a long time will mentor the son until he is able to take full control himself.

For the sake of the North Korean people, I hope Kim Jing Il moves on to the next life soon, that is, before Kim Jung Un has time to develop skills and connections of his own in the military and perpetuates the regime.  It would not surprise me if Kim Jung Il’s death resulted in a military coup and a change in power.  Hopefully that would be good for the North, but it is hard to say.  The military is totally entrenched in the good life they have and will probably not want to give up their many perks, regardless of the status of the people.  The odds are not good for the 19 million uninformed, undernourished people against the one+ million well fed, clothed and trained soldiers such as were aired on international TV at the invitation of Kim Jung Il.  Reunification might cost them their jobs and benefits, while confusion and fear could overwhelm the masses.

Meanwhile, the people in the south are largely indifferent to the situation in the north.  The South Korean government, however, is concerned and beginning to reserve money for the expected multi-billion dollar cost of reunification.  Most people on both sides say they want reunification and believe it is inevitable.  No matter if or when it happens, the transition will be incredibly difficult.  My prayer for all Korea people is that those in charge of a reunification process act with wisdom, compassion and grace.

With much gratitude for the country of our birth and heartfelt compassion for the world, we wish you all many blessings,

Julia and Mark

Adventures in Mongolia and parts of China–July-August, 2010

July 3, 2010
Ulaanbataar, Mongolia

Sixteen hours after leaving San Francisco, we landed in Ulaanbataar, the capital city of Mongolia, on July 1. The two legs on Korean Air had provided us with one of our most pleasant flight experiences. On both legs we received excellent service and good food from young, smiling flight attendants. There were no mishaps, rough weather or long layovers.  For once our bags were the first ones on the carousel. Then we walked out of the airport into the evening to quiet, peaceful dimness.  No big city lights.  No under current din as in most cities.  The air was fresh and sweet. As we welcomed each other to Mongolia, we both smiled and knew we liked the place already.

Our two guides, one local and one American, accompanied us into town and checked us into the modernistic looking Chenghis Khan Hotel. Mark called it is a 2 ½ star place and complained that the AC did not work very well.  I said it is nice and clean, has a really good bed with nice sheets, plenty of hot running water, good lighting and we have a nice view of the city from our 8th floor room.

As we arrived a day ahead of the group, we had the first day to do what we wanted. Armed with a city map and some tips from our guides we walked around the center of the city checking out the local folk (fairly Asian with nearly olive looking skin), their style of dress (very contemporary with the young women in really short shorts and skirts), art galleries (saw a couple of interesting things, but did not buy anything—yet), shopping malls and the main government department store (bought a Mongolian flag to go with the rest of our collection), a cashmere store (couldn’t resist buying several sweaters at very reasonable prices) and had a delicious salad in an Italian restaurant. We visited Subbaatar square, which was built in the Soviet era and had sported a statue of Stalin, but now contains a huge sculpture of Chenghis Khan sitting and flanked by his son Ogedei and grandson Kublai Khan and two 13th century warriors clad in full armor. It reminded me a bit of our Lincoln Memorial. Even though the country was dominated by the Soviets for 70 years, the people chose freedom, democracy and a multiparty system almost immediately after the Soviets departed in 1990. We find ourselves feeling very comfortable here. The many Soviet style buildings are gradually being replaced or re-fronted as with the Khan monument in the square. There are only a few steel and glass buildings, such as our hotel and an interesting looking office building called the Blue Sky or pregnant lady building, which has not been completed or occupied due to engineering problems even though it has looked finished for a couple of years. I would sure hate to be its owner or developer. Although Mongolia is a poor country, the people seem purposeful and engaged. We have encountered only 2 boys begging and they didn’t look the slightest bit hungry.

On our way back to the hotel we stopped at a small, but very interesting Buddhist temple called Choiijin Lama Temple Museum. Built in 1904-08, it is a classic example of Buddhist architecture. There were several buildings packed with a variety of Buddha statues, tsam (ceremonial dance) masks, tangkas, embroideries, sculptures and ancient texts. The place, although obviously very special, was dark, very dusty and hard for us non-Buddhists, to understand.

Back at the hotel about 4pm we crashed. Got up for a bite to eat at 8pm and went back to bed.

Next day, Saturday, July 3, we met our guides and the rest of the group at 8:30 for introductions and a brief discussion about our program and logistics. There are only eight of us including a couple, Susan and John, from Ventura, a retired doctor, Paul, from Manhasset Hills, NY, a retired lady, Lucy, from St Louis, MO, our two guides, Steve and Belguu, and Mark and me. Off we went to visit the only monastery that survived the Soviet era, the Gandantegchenling, or Gandan Monastery for short. It is in the outskirts of Ulaanbataar in 1838. In 1938, the Soviets destroyed about 900 monasteries and killed thousands of monks. Five temples in this monastery were destroyed and the rest turned into accommodations for Russian officers or used as barns for their horses. 1n 1944 Gandan was reopened as Monastery, but the socialist government kept it under strict control. Finally, in 1990, after the Democratic Revolution, Buddhism began to flourish again and Gandan Monastery began an ambitious restoration program. Currently there are about 1000 monks at Gandan and many more in other temples being rebuilt throughout the country. Most temples we have visited have been very old and very dirty places, including most of the temples at Gandan. However, we were allowed into a brand new, large temple where students were studying and everything was spit and polish. Even the deities were shiny and clothed in fresh robes. The experience was very different and pleasing. More than anything about the whole complex was the large number of worshippers of all ages, not just the very old, bringing their petitions to the monks, lighting butter candles, praying and enjoying being on the grounds. We saw whole families praying together and one newly married couple in wedding costumes celebrating with their family. Our usual experience in Buddhist temples is very quiet with few people around and often not many monks either.

Then we drove up to a Soviet memorial on a hill top to get a good view of the city. We enjoyed a pleasant day with blue skies, a nice breeze and not too much heat. Then to lunch in a typical tourist restaurant that serves groups. We were served a “typical” Mongolian meal of mutton, cabbage, beef soup, deep fried dumplings filled with meat or cabbage and fried bread. Sure hope we don’t get many more such meals. Anyway, we knew in advance that we were not coming here for the food. Still, I am hoping not to get clogged arteries from it.

In the afternoon we went to the Natural Museum, which is supposed to be special for its Dinosaur skeletons. Apparently there were more dinosaurs in Mongolia than any other place on earth. We saw a complete skeleton of a Tarbosaurus, which was discovered in 1948. That and parts of other dinosaur skeletons were interesting to see. Unfortunately, the soviet-era building is decrepit and the exhibits are tired and dusty. Many stuffed animals were in terrible condition. We could not get through the place fast enough.

Back at the hotel we repacked for our early morning flight to Lake Hovsgol in the north western part of the country. We have to leave a lot of things behind as we are allowed very little weight. No problem as we come back to the same hotel in a few days. After a rest we joined the group for dinner in another tourist dinner. We were very pleasantly surprised by the 4-man group of throat singer musicians who performed for us. They were fantastic and impossible to explain. They could make 2-3 sounds at one time with their throats. I was loving listening to them and wondering how I would tell people about them, when Mark reminded me that our camera also does videos, so I recorded their sound along with their images. Hope it turns out. I had trouble holding the camera steady.

Now to bed with a 3:45am wake up just ahead.
Sweet and fast dreams, Julia

July 4, 2010

Alagtsar Camp, Lake Hovsgol, Northern Mongolia

Happy Fourth of July.  It is just another day here and we are missing the fireworks and Sousa marches.  However, Mongolia’s National Holiday is July 11, so we will experience their celebrations then.

I am sitting on the threshold of our ger (the Mongolian term for yert) near the shore of Lake Hovsgol in northwestern Mongolia very close to the Russian boarder and Lake Baikal.  There is a roaring fire in the stove inside and we cannot stand to be in it for all the heat even though it is very cool outdoors.   We watch the sun slowly set at 9:40pm, while we leave the door open to let some heat out.  It has been a long day.  We were up at 3:30am to catch a 6:30 flight to a town called Moran.  We left the airport at 8am for a drive that lasted until 1:30pm and covered only 110km.  Multiple dirt tracks run parallel for a ways, then cross each other again and again, much like a river delta.  Our driver kept changing tracks and sometimes it felt like he intentionally chose the roughest path.  The few times he stopped we all uncurled slowly to get out and stretch.   The scenery made up for the bad roads.  Called steppe, it is vast, green, covered with wild flowers and crystal blue sky.  Gentle rolling hills gradually gave way to larger hills and intermittent conifer trees.   Early on we diverted a few miles to a wide open valley where we stopped to study the “deer stones”, which are slabs of stone 4-5 inches thick, 1 to 3 feet wide and 4 to 10 feet tall that have ancient carvings on all four sides that resemble deer bodies with and bird heads.  They are Bronze Age carvings that have been standing at least 3000 years old and are found in northern and western Mongolia and nearby areas of Russia and China.  The collection we visited was the largest in one place and well worth the effort.  They were very interesting to see and photograph especially as they were in a spectacular setting.  Under each stone is a wrapped bundle containing a horse head, neck bones and hooves.  Both the stone and the horse head face east.  Each one is unique and it is believed that they represented individual warriors and encapsulate Bronze Age cosmology.

To pass the time as we bumped our way north to the lake we chatted about local politics with our Mongolian guide, Bulgaa.  By March 1990 the communist politburo resigned and major reforms were implemented and Mongolia’s first free elections were held in July.  The Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party (MPRP), which was the former Russian communist party, won a majority but agreed to share both the presidency and the government leadership with the opposition.  A new constitution was drafted and Mongolia became a parliamentary democracy with an elected President, guarantees of individual and property rights and freedoms, separation of powers and a single 76-seat national assembly elected every four years.  For most of the time since, the MPRP has been in control due to the strong, but aging, rural base.  In 2007 there was a major uprising in the square in UB and 5 people were killed.  The president has never apologized for the killings and many people, including Bulgaa, are still angry.  The next election could result in some changes.  She thinks the opposition, Democratic Party, has its share of the blame and that neither party deserves to win.  She is part of a growing independent movement.

During the last third of the way we were in Hovsgol National Park and our trip became a mini game drive as we came across a pair of displaying Demoiselle cranes, several marmots and squirls, a gorgeous eagle up close that none of us could identify, a couple of fish eagles, a huge vulture and some yaks.  At last the lake and our camp came into sight.  We arrived about 1:30 and were very happy to get out of the vehicle.  Lunch was waiting and then we all crashed for the afternoon, during which we had lots of lightning, thunder and rain.  Around 4pm the sky cleared and we went for a walk around the camp.  It is set in a lovely wild flower filled meadow on the edge of the lake and next to a larch forest.  The lake at 5,379 feet elevation is very cold and clear and contains 65% of all fresh water in Mongolia (1-2% of the world’s supply).   The forest is also pretty to look at and walk about.  The trees are the only deciduous pine trees in the world and range above 50 degrees lateral, which is where we are.

Dinner was a simple salad and soup, just the perfect amount of food.  Even after a good nap we were all ready for a good night’s sleep.   The evening air was pretty chilly, but our ger was boiling inside with the fire that had been set in the wood stove.  We had to leave the door open for some time before we could stand to be inside.   I tried to write a bit, but kept making zzzzzzzzzzzzz so I closed the computer and took a sleeping pill for insurance.  It worked.  I got up only once.  When I stepped outside the ger I was confronted by several yaks munching away on the grass next to our door.  They were quite calm and relaxed so I did my business and went back to bed and instant sleep.

July 5, 2010

At last we had all had a good night’s sleep and were most ready for a boat ride through the fog to another part of the lake to visit the Reindeer People in their summer camp.  What a treat.  There were even a few small reindeer to photograph and touch as well as a whole family who were most welcoming.  We spent a couple of hours inside their teepee visiting and drinking yak butter tea.  They have a hard life, but don’t want to give it up.  Their population contains about 60 families and 1000 reindeer.  Their numbers are growing slowly as they have better health care and education via the Mongolian government, but they need outside people to improve the gene pool and help with the large number of animals.  Anyone want to marry into the clan and manage reindeer?   I bought a pipe, some Russian tobacco, a tobacco pouch and a carved reindeer antler.  Am sure you will all want to see my treasures.

The lake is calm as glass as the fog lifts.  We all wave goodbye to the reindeer people and motor back to camp.  Our heads are still full of thought about these gentle, sweet people.

But, on to the next event—horseback riding on the steppe.   We all received small Mongolian horses, except Mark, who was assigned a slightly bigger animal that proceeded to kick him, causing a couple of scratches and a bruise.  Still game, Mark got on the animal, but the head wrangler insisted on holding the lead to it because “he did not trust the horse” he said.  Mark would have none of that so he dismounted and walked away.  I don’t think he was very unhappy about missing out on the ride.

It was a lovely ride, walking and posting along through the wild flowers on the vast rolling landscape.  We were not required to ride single file and could move at our own pace and on our own path.  I loved it.  It turns out the word “steppe” means any area covered in grass and has nothing to do with the shape of the terrain.  Most of Mongolia is “steppe”.   The forests grow on the sunny northern slopes of hills and afford protection for the winter camps of the nomads.  We passed a couple of such camps on the ride.  There were wooden corrals with partial roofs for the animals and huge piles of dried dung nearby for winter fires.  Ger are moved from camp to camp with the nomads, which are currently in their summer camps that are out in the open where the grass is most plentiful.   There are numerous wild flowers that I have never seen before and beautiful vistas at every step.  Back at our camp I found Mark enjoying a book and watching a new ger for tourists being erected by the camp staff.  It normally takes two experienced people about two hours to erect a ger.  This one was being newly built from a kit and needed a lot of extra work to complete.  The camp staff spent most of the day completing it and Mark photographed the process.

Lunch and some needed quiet time were followed by a short drive to visit a yak herder’s summer camp.  A permanent, roughly built, 2 room wooden house filled with a very large family and corrals filled with yaks, cows and yak-cow hybrids greeted us on arrival.   Lake fish were hanging out to dry on lines attached to the house.   Three solar panels and a satellite disk occupied the front yard.    We soon learned that the grandchildren do the fishing and the solar system supplies power for a color TV and four old black and white TV’s, which still occupy space in the living/sleeping room.  The other room was the kitchen/eating room.   The family consisted of a hard-working and weathered, middle aged couple, their 8 children and spouses and 20 grandchildren.   Fortunately some of the children had their own homes nearby.  One son had moved to UB.  All of the children and grandchildren had been or were attending school.  The head of the family had completed grammar school.  He visited with us quite a while answering the many questions we all had with Bulgaa doing the translating.  Several of the grandchildren wandered in and out of the house.  We learned that they occupy this house 2 months of the year and spend the rest of the year in gers in their winter camp.  They much prefer living in a ger as it is more comfortable and warmer.  They own no vehicles but shared the use of a truck with other yak herders to get their products to market in Moron, the town we landed at 5 driving hours away.   The family herd includes 80 yaks, yak-cows and cows and 20 horses.  The whole family is engaged in producing yak milk, cream, butter, cheese.   The wife, who had been dressed in western style work clothes, quickly donned a deel (the traditional Mongolian dress) and sat with us, although she never spoke.  After a time she brought in a large bowl filled with fresh clotted cream and bread.   It tasted quite good with even a hint of sweetness to it.

Finally, we went outdoors to watch a daughter and granddaughter milk the animals.   The calves are kept separate from their mothers all day.  At milking time, one calf at a time is let out to suckle its mother.  Once it has “primed the pump” the granddaughter pulls it away and the mother milks the animal by hand.  Before the cow is fully milked, the calf is allowed to continue feeding and the next calf is let out.  This process happens twice a day, every day.  It did not take long before we were tired of watching, bid our good byes and went back to our own camp.

After dinner, Mark went to the shower house to clean up and I went for a walk to the lake shore to watch the sunset.  I imagined that Chenghis Khan (spelled the Mongolian way) must have visited this lake and that it and the surrounding landscape must have looked the same as it does now.  There is absolutely no development anywhere, except for a few ger camps, which look exactly like they did in his time.  The only new additions are the power line and a few vehicles.  When we flew over the landscape there was only the beautiful scenery, and few ger and occasional herds of animals.  I am loving the experience.

Hope you all enjoyed our national holiday.  Julia

July 7, 2010

Ulaanbataar

Yesterday morning we left Lake Hovsgol and retraced our steps to Moron (pronounced Mooroon).  None of us liked the 4 ½ hour drive on horribly bumpy dirt tracks.  At least this time our driver picked less bumpy ones.  We traveled in two vehicles and sometimes we were several tracks apart.   The A/C in one of the vehicles did not work so those folks had a hot dusty time in addition to the bumps.  The scenery is so beautiful and vast, it is hard not to stop the car to take photos.  Don’t know if any photo can capture it.   Back at Moron, we bid goodbye to the drivers and flew back to UB on time and without incident.  We are all hot and dirty, but Steve insists we go directly to lunch and then to two museums before we get to the hotel and a blessed shower with lots of hot water.  Fortunately, the restaurant was excellent and we enjoyed Greek salad and perfectly cooked lamb and chicken on skewers.  The food at the camp was just edible and mostly deep fried.  We all felt better after that and walked across the street to visit the charming Monastery/Museum Mark and I had seen on our own the first day in town.  This time we appreciated it much more as Bulgaa and Steve provided much needed details on the building, sculptures, paintings and masks.  It had originally been the home and temple of the brother of the last Mongolian lama, the Bogd Gadeen.   Many of the sculptures of buddhas were beautifully carved by a famous artist, Zanabazar.  Steve wonders why the world has not recognized him for his skill, which was indeed extraordinary.  Some of them are bronze.  We will visit the Zanabazar Museum later in the trip.

From there we drove to the National Museum of History, which I was most interested in visiting.  We only had one hour until closing time so we did the highlight version.  As none of the museums are air conditioned, and there were three floors to cover, none of us complained at the speed.  Mark said he had never seen me go through a museum so fast.  He was right about that.   This is when we really experienced Steve’s depth of knowledge about this country.  He has advance degrees in Central Asian and Mongolian history brought the museum to life, even with the highlight version.  The building is laid out in chronological order from ancient civilizations right through the Soviet era and the new democratic age.  There was also a section of traditional clothing from each of the areas or tribes of the country that was very colorful.

At last we returned to the hotel.  Mark and I took long showers and relaxed until dinner.  Well, we both repacked and did our laundry in the bathtub.  Amid the wet clothing hanging around the room, I went to work on my story and Mark read.  I guess one could day we were relaxing.  I have not mentioned that the A/C in the hotel works, but just barely.  We have it on and the window open too.  We sleep with only the sheet and often we toss it off.   Same with cold drinks we buy.  They are cool, but not cold.  Restaurants are not air conditioned either.  The six story department store had no A/C and we were miserable up on the 5th floor where they kept the tourist stuff.  Hard to imagine anyone hangs around long enough to buy anything, but the place was full of shoppers—mostly local.  Slowly we are adjusting…or at least, not complaining.

Finally, we were treated to BD’s Mongolian BBQ.  We all enjoyed making our own concoctions and even went back to make additional ones.  Most of the patrons were westerners.  I suspect it is not local fare.   Ice cream for dessert and then back home to bed.  I tried to write, but soon gave up and joined Mark making zzzs.

This morning, July 7, we are off again driving west into the heart of the country.  We are told the road is paved and the drive is only 3 hours to our next ger camp.  Will let you know how it goes.

Some of the things we have learned so far about the Nomadic culture include:

Nomads invented the trouser—the only way to be comfortable on a horse.

The horse was domesticated about 1500BC, but it took more time for development of the bridle, bit, saddle and finally the stirrup.

The Great Wall of China was built to keep the horseback riding nomads out of China.

The yak-cow is a hybrid of the two animals and is preferred because it gives more milk than a yak and more butter fat than a cow.

Mare’s mile is fermented and drunk as an alcoholic beverage.  It must be aerated 2-300 times every day to keep it from going bad.  It is thin, whitish and very sour.  A couple of sips were all we needed to know it was an acquired taste we were not interested in developing.

Nomads share the land equitably.  Nomads do not own land.  Use of it comes down through inheritance.

Privatization of land has happened in the towns and UB, where one can own the land around one’s home and can buy small plots in the nearby countryside.  Otherwise the government owns all land.  The nomads share it equitably with their herds moving about freely.

Women are equal with men in nomadic cultures.

Mongolians are tolerant of all religious beliefs.  Chenghis Khan promoted that attitude.  They themselves have been Shamanists, Muslims, Christians and Buddhists.  Today most now are Buddhists, although we are told that only about 60% practice the religion.

The Reindeer People have very Eskimo-like facial features.  They paint a romantic picture, but the truth is they have problems similar to our native American Indians.  Later on the day we boated out to meet them, we encountered the man in camp helping himself to the vodka.   So much for romance.

The drive to Hustai Camp in Hustai National Park was 3 hours over mostly paved roads.  The scenery along the way was again open, vast, green, gentle rolling with low mountains in the far distance.  Small ger camps dotted the landscape and medium sized to very large herds were visible in nearly always in sight—some up close and some far away.  Along the road side there was occasionally a row of wooden buildings that housed small businesses and looked like cowboy props in a western movie.  Bulgaa calls them “canteens”.   Many were frequented by men on horseback, although there were lots of motor cycles and trucks too.

Hustai camp was large and full of tourists.  Our ger was in the middle of the camp and impossible to distinguish from other ger except for a tiny number on the door jamb.   It was like living in a community of row houses.  We memorized our location and hoped that we would remember it in the dark.   After another unmemorable lunch and a rest in the hot afternoon, we headed into the park about 4pm.  Immediately we noticed a change in the scenery.  We had entered very rocky hills with bunch grasses and stinging plants.  The hills and hillocks were made of metamorphic rock with interesting colors and shapes.   Our first stop was an ancient cemetery with unusually carved stones in the shape of figures with crossed arms.   A row of stone posts stretched out for several kilometers from the main grave stone in the cemetery.   What did it all mean?   We wandered and wondered.

Back in our vehicles, we began our game drive searching for the wild horses everyone has heard about.  They are Takhi horses, often called Przewalski Horses for the man who brought them back to Mongolia.  The last Takhi horse in Mongolia had disappeared in 1960 and there were only a few in zoos around the world.  Przwalski spent years getting people to support the idea of bringing the horses back, locating an appropriate environment, getting a huge park land approved and, in the early 90’s, finally bringing the first 15 horses from different zoos.  Eventually 84 animals were reintroduced to Mongolia and now there are over 250 totally wild animals.  They have 68 chromosomes rather than the normal 64 in regular horses.  They cannot be ridden or used as beasts of burden, which is why the Nomads had gradually eradicated them.  They were of no benefit and ate the grass useful horses needed.   Now the communities around the area have become invested in growing and managing the herd in the park for tourism.   It was very late in the day before we spotted any Takhi and they were very far away.   We kept looking and found other groups closer but still too far to photograph.   Then we say a group up on a hill and some of us hiked up to get a better look and some photos.   Somewhat disappointed we began to head out of the park, when suddenly there were herds of horses galloping down the hillside to the fertile grasses and the creek at the bottom.  What a wonderful sight.  We were able to get within 300 feet of them.  They are really beautiful animals.  Tawny colored with lighter bellies and flowing, dark brown tails and manes, they have slightly larger heads than regular horses in comparison to their smaller bodies.   We saw several fowls, which are a creamy white color.   Mark also spotted a rare red deer high on a rocky slope.  Try as hard as I could, I could not spot it.  It was nearly dark when we left the park, well after 9pm.  Fortunately, the dining room was still open.  I went to the shower building and had a cool, low pressure experience.  Unsatisfied, I was at least clean enough to go to bed.

Next morning, July 8, we left Hustai and continued west to Korakoram, the ancient capital of the Mongols established by Chenghis Khan in 1222.  Along the way we stopped at a ger camp next to some sand dunes, the first we have seen so far.  Then we drove a bit out of the way to the remains of a huge  17th century monastery, called Young Man Monastery, nestled into Khogn Khaan Mountain.   Housing thousands of monks, it had been one of the monasteries under Zanabazar, the 1st Bogd Gadeen or holy teacher and spiritual ruler of Mongolia.  (The Bogd Gadeen was the equivalent of the Dahli Lama in Tibet.  The last Bogd Gadeen was the 8th, who died shortly after the Soviets took control of Mongolia.)  Apparently Zanabazar was a better artist and spiritual leader than politician.  He made a critical decision to ask for help from the Manchu people in the east rather than side with his fellow Mongols in the west.  So the western Mongol king, Galdan Boshigt, decided to come after Zanabazar.  His troops reached Young Man Monastery and brutally strangled over a thousand monks on Khogn, which means “strangled”.   Zanabazar, meanwhile, escaped.  Then his troops returned to Karakoram but were unable to cross the Orhon River as it was in flood.  Many of them died trying.  As a result of Zanabazar’s decision, the Manchus’ ruled Mongolia for the next 200 years.   We were shown around by a pretty woman named Altai, who has made it her mission to restore the monastery.  She has built and furnished a couple of very small temples and attracted 5 monks to live and pray at the place.  The area was intimate, peaceful and charming and the view from the hillside temples was excellent.    We could still see the remains of the 17th century buildings.

The road was paved and nearly straight with undulating hills.  The landscape continued to be expansive and nearly empty except for herds of animals and occasional gers.  We tried to compare it to places at home but gave up trying.  Finally we crested a hill and began to descend into the great Orhon Valley, which is greener and more fertile that all the land we had crossed to get here.  It is protected by the Hangai Mountains and blessed by gently flowing rivers that across the wide marsh and grass-covered steppe.  The valley has such a desirable microclimate that it has attracted people since Palaeolithic times some 750,000 years ago.  Evidence of settlement has been found back to the Xiongnu nomads between 300 and 100BC.

The valley is considered one of the world’s most important cultural regions and was recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site in 2004.  The listing recognizes the valley’s influence on world history, trade and the strength and persistence of nomadic culture.  This culture is still a central part of Mongolian society and respected as a “noble” way to live in harmony with the landscape.   Karakoram is in the middle of the valley.   Today it is a small town of wooden houses, each individually enclosed with 6 foot tall wood fences, a large flour mill and some other industrial buildings.  The ancient city was completely destroyed by Mongol enemies only 20 years after Kublai Khan, Chenghis’s grandson, moved his capital to what is now Beijing.  Within the valley are evidence of the former capitals of the Xiongnu, the Rouran (5th-6th centuries AD), the Turks (6th-8th centuries AD), Uyghurs (8th – 9th centuries AD), the Kyrgyz (9th – 11th centuries AD) and the Khitan (11th -12th centuries).  When Chenghis came along in the late 12th century, he used the valley as his western encampment for his huge military campaigns to the west and south.  In 1222 he named the valley the capital of the Mongol Empire.  Unfortunately the capital lasted only 40 years before Kublai abandoned it.  In 1288 Ming dynasty troops launched a series of raids intro Mongolia and totally destroyed Karakoram in 1388.  Kublai’s shift to the east to establish the Yuan Dynasty marked the beginning of the disintegration of the Mongol Empire, which had become the largest Empire the world has ever seen.

In 1586 Erdene Zuu Monastery was founded on the site of the old city and the present day town.  It is Mongolia’s oldest surviving Buddhist Monastery, although it is now primarily a museum.

We arrived in town too late to do anything except go to Dream Land, our ger camp for the next 2 nights.  Steve had promised us a surprise and I was hoping it would be “en suite” bathrooms.  Instead, each ger was carpeted, had beds with thick mattresses, night stands and lamps, a TV and heating and air conditioning units that worked.  The bath and shower rooms were clean and there was a masseuse on duty.   Mark didn’t wait.  He took a quick shower and ordered a massage.  The lady came to our ger and worked on his back, which has been sore from all the bumpy riding we have done for days and days.  Meanwhile, I was really ready for a nice hot shower.  However, the water was only a little warmer than at the previous camp.  At least there was plenty of pressure and clean facilities.

Dinner was a slight improvement over previous ger food and our group, which has bonded nicely, did a lot of travel and other storytelling and laughing over beer and scotch.  Our ages range from 55 to 67 and everyone is as much or more traveled than Mark and I.  We get along especially well with the couple from Ventura and find we have a lot in common.   After all the laughter and liquor we slept really well.

July 9, 2010

Dream Land Camp, Karakoram, Mongolia

Today we visited the local points of interest and view sights, including the Erdene Zuu Monastery.   We also encountered our first outdoor tourist vendors.   With Bulgaa’s help I purchased some “authentic” Mongolian carved camel bone snuff bottles and a pair of Buddhist chimes.  The price we settled on was 43,000 tuglugs.  Not bad at 1350 tuglugs to the dollar.

Then we headed to the open field where the local Naadam Festival is taking place.  The national holiday is July 11, but each region chooses when they want to do their own festivities.  In the Orhon Valley, this is the 1st of a 2-day festival and as it is a small community, we were able to watch the participants, activities, events up close.  We saw the opening ceremonies, the beginning of the wrestling competition and the finish of a horse race before lunch.  The horse races are interesting in that the race is intended to determine the fastest horse independently of the rider.  So children, aged 5 to 14, ride the horses bare back or with saddles as they wish.  The races are of varying distances and start with the riders walking the horses from the finish out to the beginning and then racing back. Each race can take several hours.  We say the 7 year old horses racing in for the finish.   The crowd had been watching the wrestlers when an announcement came that the racers were getting close so everyone ran or rode to the finish line to cheer the riders home.   The rider on the winning horse appeared to be 13 or 14, but the second finisher was more like 10.  I didn’t see anyone that looked under 7, but there were a lot of very tired children and horses back in the pack.

Dream Land was very close to the festival site, so we had lunch there and went back in the afternoon.   The wrestlers were funny to watch as they have unusual and skimpy costumes and a variety of rituals they go through before making contact.  As we were watching the early matches, the best and biggest were paired with less strong and experienced wrestlers so many matches ended quickly.  The matches that were evenly paired dragged on.  Just when I tired of watching and let my gave wander, one of them would drop the other and it was over.   I soon tired of it and went to watch local women who had volunteered to demonstrate their archery skills with stone arrows they aim at an area on the ground rather than a target to be penetrated.   The arrows are blunt but strong enough to break a leg with a well-aimed shot.  None of the women were dressed in traditional clothing, which bothered our guide Bulgaa.   One woman had on a backless dress and high heels and succeeded in putting the arrow in the correct spot.   Another announcement sent us all running back to the finish line to watch the 2-year old horses come in.  This time I saw lots of younger children.  It was much fun to get into the excitement of rooting for the kids, who pullout all the stops to make it across the line.   This race was, I believe, only 15k.  While watching I got into a conversation with an unusual local who spoke some English.  He was a well to do looking gentleman, who asked me where I was from.  I was surprised, as few Mongolians we have met know any English.  Most rarely smile even when smiled at and are not particularly warm and friendly.   Anyway, he had just returned from a trip to Rhode Island to watch his daughter graduate from Brown University with a degree in microbiology.  She is now working in New York and he was obviously very proud of her.  I took his photo, for which he stopped smiling, and gave him my e-mail address as he plans to come to California someday.  He pulled out a huge snuff bottle made of coral, gold and some rare transparent stone I could not make out.  It had been his grandfather’s and he was nearly as proud of it as he was of his daughter.

By 4:30 we were very dusty and had had enough Naadam Festival for one day.  Back at camp, I had another tepid shower and then wrote until dinner, which was a briefer affair than the night before.  I think everyone of us was in need of some quiet time.  Tomorrow we depart at 8am for the long trek back to UB.  We are all especially tired of so much driving and bouncing around on bumpy roads, paved or not.  There is a lot of talk about massages and stretching.

Time for bed.  I will send this after we get to UB and have a hot shower.

July 10, 2010

Arrived UB after 5 ½ hours of driving.  Sure glad to get that drive behind us even if the scenery was equally beautiful in reverse.  Mark went directly to the massage lady and I checked email and did some writing.  Then we went out to see a couple of art galleries.  One was closed, but the other was not.  It was our second visit to the place and this time we purchased a large mask and costume to go with it.  Not sure how we will display it, but it will be unique among our motley collection of stuff.   All day the sky has been overcast and threatening, so the air is nice and cool.  We have been lucky to be under cover whenever it has rained.  After organizing payment and shipping for our purchase we walked to a restaurant we had eaten in with the group and had a just ok meal by ourselves—disappointing food and service.   All through the meal we were treated to a view of multiple security agents all suited up including ear buds and acting busy about a bunch of VIP’s who took over the restaurant upstairs from the one we were in.  It was fun to watch them and the black, flagged cars from a variety of countries.  Mark wondered if it might be a UN event or something to do with the National Day coming up tomorrow.   After dinner, while walking to our hotel via the main square, we saw 40+ costumed horsemen trot up to the statue of Chenghis Khan, get off and stand next to their steeds at perfect attention.  Even the horses did not move.  So we waited to see what would happen.  Next a costumed band arrived by goose step and formed up behind the horsemen.  Then we waited nearly 45 minutes for what?  Finally the band struck a drum roll and out of the Khan Monument walked more costumed men carrying large banners like the ones all Mongol rulers used in the 12th and 13th centuries.  They marched down the monument steps to the horsemen, who remounted and received the banners.  Then the whole group proceeded to march around the building.  We decided we had seen enough and marched ourselves home.  My guess is they returned the banners to safe keeping for the night and will bring them out again in the morning for the Naadam Festival as part of the opening ceremonies.  Although we have already experienced Naadam festivities in Karakoram, we are excited to see how it will play out in the nation’s capital tomorrow.

Till then, Julia

July 13, 2010

Discovery Camp, Gobi Desert, Mongolia

UB was a crush of people—locals, tourists and country people in town for Naadam.  The infrastructure has not kept up with the population growth and everywhere there was congestion.  The 35,000 seat stadium itself is very old and a bit scary.  The steps are very narrow and many are broken, the bathrooms are closed because they do not function and I could not imagine what we would do if there was a fire.  There were not enough places for all the tourists in our covered section 3 to sit and there was a fair amount of grumbling and selfishness at work before most everyone squeezed themselves into spaces, not all of which were seats, and the ceremonies started.  First the president of the country spoke and then the banners we had seen in the square were paraded into the stadium and placed in a circle near the center of the field.  A traditional long song, a throat song and a contemporary song were sung by various groups and then we all stood for the national anthem.   Chenghis Khan and a contingent of warriors galloped into the stadium amid loud cheering and proceeded to demonstrate some very fancy horsemanship including hitting targets with bow and arrows while at full gallop.  Many colorful dancers performed in groups on the field, some with banners flying.  Several military groups entered the field together and, by turn, performed precision maneuvers, did synchronized Marshal Arts and gave battle demonstrations.   Then there was a parade of groups of people in various kinds of clothing, carrying flags and balloons.  When they had all marched around the arena and into the center of the field, they filled the place.   Finally, the field cleared out and there was a short break during which many of the tourists also cleared out.  We stayed for the first round of wrestling.   Dozens of wrestler entered the field, paid their respects to the Khan banners, did a bunch of posturing and began to wrestle with each other.  Each wrestler has a second, who holds his hat and watches closely for any fowl moves by the opponent.  There is also a referee for each match.  It was very confusing to watch so many matches going on at one time.  As this was only the first round, the biggest guys were beating the little guys quickly.  We had had enough after that round, but apparently there are 9 rounds that last until 8pm the second day when a grand winner is declared.

We walked around the large grounds, which reminded me of our county fair.  There was a carnival, lots of vendors selling imported goods, food vendors, a special arena for the archery tournament and a separate building for a popular national game called knuckle bone, played with pieces of sheep bone.  First we enjoyed watching the archery.  The men and women teams took turns shooting and tending the target area.  The arrows do not have points.  They are made of blunt nosed stone and are aimed at a collection of stacked blocks.  The score depends on which blocks are hit.  Just about the time it started to rain we entered the game building and watched teams of 3-4 men shoot a rectangular bone piece about 1 ½ inch by 2 inches across a 12-15 foot space into a box where other bone pieces were standing.  Their job was to hit and knock out the pieces.  The first team to get to 16 points wins.  There were several of these games happening simultaneously, with people wandering from game to game watching.  Our game of marbles is the nearest game we have to it.

The rain and wind eventually pick up and we run for the car.  It has rained most days for a short time in the afternoon and been a refreshing break to the heat and dust.  This rain was more than the usual sprinkle.   Back at the hotel we had only enough time to shower and head out again to the National Concert Hall for a performance by the National Music and Dance Company.  We have been to numerous such folkloric performances and our whole group agreed that this was the best, by far, that any of us had ever seen.  We were treated to very professional dancing and singing, accompanied by a full Mongolian orchestra with traditional instruments and a conductor.   Spectacular costumes and theatrics and excellently timed choreography kept us totally engaged for 90 minutes.  Following the show we went directly to Bayangol Restaurant Theatre.  Unfortunately, neither the food nor the performance there were appealing in any way.  On the way back to the hotel, we passed by Sukebator Square again and found the whole square full of people hanging out and listening to a very loud pop band.   This is the one night of the year when there is so much frivolity.  I tried to write, but crashed instead.

Although Naadam events continue a second day, we head for the airport and fly to Dalandzagad in the southern part of Gobi Desert.  We are met again by two Mitsubishi Delica, the same kind of vehicles we had in Lake Hovsgol.  They are comfortable 4×4, air conditioned vehicles.  The scenery is even more expansive than the steppe areas in the north as the land is flat for huge distances with low mountains nearly out of view.  The grass looks green from a distance, but is sparse when seen up close.   Between each small tuft is lots of gravel.  The roads are mostly corrugated gravel with the usual choice of tracks to follow.  We are luck as it is not hot and recent rains have greened up the grass and reduced the dust.  We drive about an hour and a half to our first Gobi camp, called Camp Mirage.  Nearly all the way there we are seeing mirages and feeling thankful not to be walking in the desert.   We are greeted by a traditionally dressed welcoming committee holding the traditional bowl of goats milk given to guests.  This very nice touch was followed up with very clean, well-managed facilities.  Even the food, served buffet style, was better than we have been getting.   The salads were cabbage and cucumber, cabbage and beet, peas and pickles, warm plain pasta, a hot beef stroganoff type dish, the usual greasy warm French fries, bread and warmed preserved pear/apples is juice for dessert.   In spite of the underwhelming culinary fare, we are staying well, but not losing weight.

July 13, 2010

Discovery Camp, Gobi Desert, Mongolia

The next morning, July 12, we flew to the South Gobi Desert and landed in the middle of the desert at a place called Dalanzagad.  I think there was a town, but we never saw it.  From the airport we departed on a dirt road, the only kind in the Gobi, and headed directly west toward our ger (pronounced gair by the way) in Camp Mirage.  And the place was very aptly named as we everything in the distance was one continuous mirage for the entire 1 ½ hour drive across endlessly flat, gravel and low grass desert.    Having been warned that the desert was not all sand, we were not surprised.  In fact 95% of the Gobi is just what we were looking at.   It is impossible to convey the vastness of the space.  We were all mesmerized.  Any animal or structure became noteworthy.  We were fascinated by reflections of a ger camp in a mirage.  Camp Mirage itself was hot, dry, dusty, just what you might expect in the desert.   The staff, meanwhile, was very nice starting with greeting us at the entrance gate in traditional clothing and offering goat’s milk to drink.   We had lunch with barely cool beer and then headed out for our excursion of the day, Yolyn Am (Vulture Canyon) in the far eastern end of the Altai Mountains.   The sky grew dark an ominous, then opened up and provided us with a 30 minute downpour.  Nevertheless, we climbed imperceptibly for over an hour before entering the Zunn Saihan, or East Beauty as the range is called.  It is in the largest national park in Mongolia, 10,400 square miles.  From the valley floor we climbed over 1000 meters into the heart of the range.  At the entrance to the park we stopped at a small museum of local wild life—similar moth infested stuffed creatures we saw at the Natural Museum in UB—and a row of vendor shops where I found cashmere wool socks that say “Made in Mongolia”.   As we drove up into the Nature Reserve we watched for wild game and managed to spot a beautiful fox on the move.  It stopped and looked back long enough for us to get a good look.  Mark thinks he saw some eagles, but I missed them.  It was a beautiful drive with rocky crags and cliffs on both sides of us as we drove through the narrow, verdant valley lush from the creek that meandered through it.  When the road ended we walked three kilometers down into the canyon passing locals enjoying picnic lunches on the grass beside the cool water.   Gradually the canyon narrowed with tall cliffs rising on either side of us. The canyon walls were so close that we had trouble not walking directly in the creek.  Finally, around a bend we reached our goal—the remains of last season’s snow and ice.  There was not much left, but it was there—snow in the desert!  The sun must never reach that part of the canyon.  The hike out was equally pleasant.  It felt food to stretch our legs, breathe deeply and walk in the landscape.   Walking out of the canyon we passed several opportunistic vendors selling crafts.  I bought a piece of stone carved with a horse on one side and a camel on the other.  I also bargained for a hand-made tapestry called “A day in the Life” of Mongolia.   It reminds me of a similar one I purchased years ago on Lake Titicaca and the story board Mark and I bought in Papua New Guinea.   I have now spent all the Tuglug we brought from UB so no more shopping for me.

Driving back to camp, the low point in the road was flooded from the rain we had experienced three hours earlier.  Steve commented that this was only the second time he had seen the desert flooded in the 30 years he has been coming to the Gobi.   Our 4×4’s handled the situation easily and we continued on wondering at the suddenness nature can change  the environment.   Back at the camp, we had another meal about the same as lunch.  Thank goodness for the beer, even if it is not cold.  Mongolia offers 4-5 local options including one dark beer.   My choice is Chenghis.  We have experienced remarkably few bugs, if you don’t count flies, on this trip.  This night, as every night in the Gobi, we leave the door open for the breeze, the night sky and intermittent rain.  The air was not cold, but it cooled off enough to need a blanket.

At 8am the entire Mirage camp staff turned out to wish us a safe journey and sprinkle milk on our tires to insure the best for us.  We drive 4 hours through the unending gravel and grass desert where the tallest natural form is the camel, which can be seen from a long distance.  We continue further west in the south-eastern end of the Altai Range to get to our next overnight stop, Discovery Camp.  The rocky ridges give us perspective and points to focus on.  There are more herds of animals and summer ger camps in the hills.   At one point we passed a well where men were taking turns pulling water out of it and dumping it into a trough for their horses.  The horses fought each other to get to the water.  It was fun to watch the fracas.

As we crossed the high point of the range heading south the largest sand dunes in Mongolia came into view.  They are 12 miles long, 7 ½ miles wide and the tallest are 650 feet.  We could not see the full length of the dunes from our location.  Back down on the desert floor, we soon arrived at camp, checked into our ger and went to lunch.  This camp has many other guests.  We have been spoiled by having most camps nearly to ourselves.  After lunch, Steve gave us an interesting lecture on Shamanism and how it impacts Buddhism in Mongolia.  It has been in existence since the beginning of religious or spiritual beliefs in pre-history.

A shaman spirit selects and initiates a person. It acts like a second soul and is a source of power and controls the shaman’s encounters with other spirits.   The new shaman will fall ill and be examined by another shaman, who will recognize if the person has been selected.  If he has, the person has a choice to become a shaman or not.  If he accepts, he will be healed.  If he refuses, he will usually die.   Training and initiation will follow.  A shaman’s duty is primarily as a healer because spirits are believed to be the cause of illness.  Other duties include: blessing, protection, hunting magic and weather magic.  Shamans use a variety of tools.  Their costume provides actual residences for their helper spirits.  A one sided, 60 cm or larger hand-held drum is used in most ceremonies to drive the singing and dancing that help propel him into a trance.  The next important tool is a round metallic mirror, or mirrors, which he attaches to his costume, particularly over his chest to act as a shield against spirit attach and to absorb energy from the universe to increase his power.  The shaman will also have one or two staffs that represent horses, which they ride on their spirit journeys.  Not all rituals require a trance.  Many tasks are performed in an ordinary state of consciousness.

The most powerful way to induce a trance is by beating the shaman drum.  Shaman drumming is not steady, however.  The drumming will slow down or speed up, get softer or louder depending on the Shaman’s mind at any given moment.  Mongolian drums are generally large in diameter and give a deep, resonating sound that vibrates through the shaman’s body, especially when held directly over his head or near his face.  Intoxicants may be used before or during the ritual.  Juniper, a mild hallucinogenic, is used in many rituals in Mongolia.  Juniper smoke is believed to be pleasing to the spirits.  The muscaria mushroom, a more potent hallucinogenic, has been connected with Mongolian shamanism from ancient times.  Many shamanistic rituals, superstitions and spirit beliefs have been incorporated into Buddhism as can be seen in the many deities found in Buddhist temples.   Excerpted from Steve’s comments and “A course in Mongolian Shamanism-Introduction 101” at the Golomt Center for Shamanistic Studies, Ulaanbataar.

After the heat of the day had passed, we drove an hour to the edge of the sand dunes to visit a camel herder family and ride some of his animals.  This was the third nomad family we have visited and each time we have had delightful experiences.  First we invited to sit and then served the obligatory yak butter tea and small deep fried biscuits.  They are OK , but I am getting very tired of fried food, which is the preferred method of cooking almost everything.  If it isn’t fried it is boiled and has almost no flavor at all.  In this family there were the couple and their four kids.  The two sons were herders and worked with the father.  The two daughters were in school.   Even the herder’s wife had finished high school.   All over Mongolia we have witnessed girls going to school as much or more than boys.  We asked the couple, who were both involved in the conversation for a change, how they met.  They were pleases to tell us they met on a farm commune during the Soviet era.  He was a driver and she worked in the fields.  As soon as the Soviets left they went into the herding business, which had always been what they wanted to do.   They have over 400 animals, including a very gentle group of camels.   From their summer ger we rode into the dunes for a ways.  I really liked riding the Bactrian’s (two humps instead of one).  Once the sand became steep, we walked on up the dune a ways and slid down.  As we had had recent rain, the sand was more compact than usual so we did not hear the singing sound the sand can make when it is dry.  Half the group walked back to the ger while the rest of us road back.  It was especially nice not to be pulled by a herder.  We were each allowed to control our own animal.  Back at the herder’s camp, we did not linger.  Said our good byes and drove back to Discovery Camp.

This was the only camp where we were assigned a king bed.  At first I thought it would be nice, but I no sooner sat on the bed when I knew it was the going to be a difficult night.  The mattress was 2 inches thick and rested on wooden slats that were not secure.  What a time we had.  Best to grin and bear it and not talk much about it.  We did get through the night, but were sleepy most of the next day.

July 14,2010

Discovery was our most easterly camp.  On the 14th we retraced our path for 3 hours and then made a turn to get to 3 Camels Lodge, the most luxurious camp we visited.  Not only was it attractive to look at with well-built permanent stone buildings, we were provided with extra wide twin beds with thick comfortable mattresses.  Lovely.  There was a large veranda with porch swings that beckoned us to linger in the cool breeze.  Unfortunately, Steve had us booked all day long with activities.  After lunch, still not very appealing, we drove to the “famous” Flaming Cliffs to see where huge dinosaurs had been found in the mid 20’s.  The place looked a bit like Bryce Canyon, complete with hoodoos and the flaming red color.

Must go now to catch our flight to Beijing.   Good bye Mongolia.

More later.  Julia

July, 17, 2010

Raffles Hotel, Beijing, China

Ahh!  How lovely it is to be in a first class hotel—especially when you are not feeling well—but I am getting ahead of myself.

Back on the 14th, we drove all around the Flaming cliffs and spent some time poking around for dinosaur bones.  We think we found some bone fragments, but it is hard to tell as they look white just like a lot of small rocks.   Steve and Bulgaa said to lick the suspected fragment and if it sticks, it is most likely bone.  We tried it and are bringing home a few pieces that stuck.  Between the heat, grit, tedium and having to lick everything, there is no chance I will become a Paleontologist in this life.   Once, when I was much younger, I thought it sounded romantic.  From now on, I will content myself with the exploits of tongue licking scientists in the National Geographic.  Needless to say, we all quickly tired of bone hunting and drove on to the nearby Saxaul Forest, where the oldest and rarest trees in Mongolia live.  Apparently they grow nowhere else in the world.  The largest Saxaul trees are actually not much bigger than large bushes and live to be several hundred years old in very dry, hot and inhospitable desert.  They have long knobby needles and whitish, weathered bark.  Bulgaa was very proud of them.

About 5:30 we finally get back to the 3 Camels Lodge, clean up and head for the veranda for a drink, the cool breeze and the view of the endless landscape.  Mark and I have both been feeling a little off and eating less of the heavy fried food every meal.  No different this evening.  After dinner we watched a show put on by students of the local Arts and Culture School.  It was the same singing and dancing we had seen before, but not nearly as well done.   More activities were planned by the Lodge for the late evening including an outdoor fire, drinks, cigars and music, but Mark and I headed for the nice beds and a good night’s sleep.

We are up at 4am on the 15th to catch an 8am flight back to Ulaanbataar from the Dalandzagad Airport.  The Chenghis Khan Hotel was feeling like home when we pulled in before 11am.  We rested for an hour then went to the Zanabazar Museum to see beautiful bronzes by Zanabazar and fine art from ancient times forward.  I especially liked the hand stitched tapestries as well as Zanabazar’s exquisitely carved Buddhas.  Mark and I had previously purchased a mask and costume in the art shop of the museum and found it still on display.  The artist said she would ship it shortly now that the Naadam Festival was over.   Sure hope so.

Lunch was supposed to be an American treat called Milly’s Espresso that served “hamburgers and French fries like we get at home”.   Maybe so, but it was not what my stomach wanted.  I had a chicken sandwich and couldn’t get it all down.  Most everyone else had cheese burgers and ate it all.  The owner of the place is a big Kenyan lady who came over to make sure we were happy customers.  What a surprise it was to see her running an American lunch place in Mongolia.    Then we were off again for one last stop to see the 8th Bogd Gadeen’s Winter Palace.  It was in just about the same shape it was in when he last lived in it in 1924, complete with his spun gold and fur clothing, furnishings, a ger covered by dozens of white leopard skins, art works, his personal collection of stuffed animals from all parts of the world, temples and the same unkempt grounds we have seen in every temple, residence or monastery we have visited.   The house was built in Siberian style; 2 stories, a central door and several evenly spaced windows all cased in fancy, carved wood trim, painted yellow.  More Zanabazar Buddhas were on display in the temples.  The Summer Palace was destroyed by the Soviets, but this Palace was turned into a Museum instead.  It seems this last Bogd Gadeen was popular with the people and it would have been unwise to destroy his last home.

In late afternoon with a light rain, we head back to the hotel to organize our packing for our trip to Beijing the next day.  At 7pm we head to an Indian Restaurant for our farewell dinner.  We were not feeling at all well by then and Mark barely sat down before he excused himself and went back to the hotel.  I made it through dinner, but ate very little.   By the time I got back to the room, Mark had already spent a lot of time in the bathroom and was lying on the bed trying to sleep.  I wrote for an hour or so until I was suddenly overcome by the urge to run to the bathroom myself.   That was it.  One or the other of us was on the throne the rest of the night.  I don’t think either of us got any sleep.  Luckily we managed not to require the room at the same time–except once when Mark asked if I was going to camp in it.   We felt miserable the morning of July 16 and skipped breakfast.   In the lobby at 9am everyone looked as bad as we felt.  No one smiled.  As we soon found out, all of them had been just as sick and were just as tired as we were.  All the way to airport we talked about what might have caused us to all have the same problem at the same time, but we could never quite put our finger on a particular meal or food as we had never all eaten the same thing.   We were all so tired, including Steve and, to a lesser degree, Bulgaa that we minimized our good byes and hoped we could get to our destinations without getting sick again.  I think all of us used up our supplies of Imodium to insure a safe flight.   Mark and I made it to Beijing and were very glad we were not in transit back to the states as some of the others were.  Our guide, driver and a new Chinese car called Red Flag, which is made in Inner Mongolia were waiting.  Our guide, John, chatted all the way to the Raffles Hotel and told us of the plans he had for the balance of our first day in Beijing.  When we told him we were not up to doing anything and why, he recommended we have reflexology massages to help the G-I system.    By 3:30 we were in a very spacious 5th floor room with a balcony and good view of down town Beijing, highly polished hard wood floors, oriental carpets, functioning A/C and an excellent king size bed.   We did not leave it until the next morning.  We ordered noodle soup and foot massages in our room and were sound asleep by 7pm.

The next morning, we felt rested but our G-I systems were still not perfect.  In spite of the beautiful buffet breakfast spread, I only wanted yogurt.  Mark managed eggs, bacon, cheese and bread.

At 8am, John met us and we took the subway to the new concert hall that contains 3 theatres for opera, music and concerts.   It building was beautifully designed by a French company in the shape of an oval dome sitting in a shallow pond.  One must enter the complex from a tunnel underneath the pond and experience the water sliding down the tunnel walls.  All together the 3 halls contain 19,000 seats.  It was exquisite.  Sure wish we could have a smaller version in our community.   Then we walked to Tian’an Men Square and were instantly struck by the huge crowds of people waiting in lines to walk by Mao’s tomb.  John said it is like that every day, although weekends are worse.   It takes an hour to move through the line and is the only attraction that receives almost no foreigners.   Gradually we worked our way through the square and into the Palace Museum, more commonly known as the Forbidden City.  Originally completed in 1420 it became the heart of the Chinese world from which 24 emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties ruled China for nearly 500 years until the last ruler abdicated in 1912. Although Kublai Khan ruled from Beijing as the first Yuan Emperor in the late 1300’s, his palace was somewhere north of the Forbidden City.  I would like to have visited it to complete our trek through Mongolian history, but did not plan ahead for that possibility.   The Palace Museum was opened to the public for the first time in 1949.  I remember seeing the square and the Forbidden City in 1981 with my parents and am astonished at how much more crowded the City and the sights are today.  Between the oppressive, sticky heat and the crowds, visiting the Forbidden City was not a pleasant experience.   If you ever plan to go to Beijing, do not go in July and August or on a weekend day.  The Museum itself has not changed much since 1981 and the buildings have been well maintained.  As John said, it costs everyone, including locals, 45 Yuan to enter and 10’s of thousands visit every day so there ought to be enough money to keep the place looking good.

The City of Beijing has changed nearly beyond all recognition.  In 1981, the country had been open to tourists for only 3 years.  Everyone was still wearing Mao suits and carrying little red books.  There were only a few cars for VIP’s. Tourists rode in busses and everyone else was on bicycle or foot and pulling carts.  All the buildings were old and there were only a few places for tourists to stay and they were not very nice.   There were few store and very little to buy except for the “Friendship Stores” for tourists and VIP’s only.   The city is now transformed with many huge, contemporary buildings, wide streets full of cars, very few bicycles and western style clothing on everyone.   Everywhere people were busy shopping in stores filled to the brim with consumer goods.  As an example, 1000 new vehicles are sold each day in Beijing, according to John.  Is Mao turning over in his frozen grave?   Although there are only 17 million of the 1.3 billion people in China, it is easy to get a sense of just how huge and intense the population is.

We left the Forbidden City and collapsed hot and tired into our cool Red Flag car.  While on long drive to the Great Wall, John filled us in on some general information about the country.  About 10 million people are Catholic, including himself, 10 million are protestant, 10 million are Buddhists, 6 million are Muslims and vast majority do not practice any religion.  I was surprised to learn that of the 1.3 billion people only about 100 million are Communist Party members.  To become a social servant in any capacity, one must join the Party.  As a Catholic, he could never become a member of the Party.   When it comes time for an election, the winner is preselected by the Party, the people are given three choices to vote for and the winner is always the pre-determined person.  John thinks it is a joke and just the way it is in China so why get worked up about it.  Maybe that is a good attitude to adopt when you have absolutely no control.  He wondered about all the money our candidates spend on elections to get elected.   In the end it is still the rich and powerful that control, so why spend so much money and get all worked up for something we cannot control.  I asked him where he got all these notions about how Americans were no better off that Chinese.  He said he read it in a book.

We talked about land ownership and learned that the only landowner is the government.  People can rent residential property for up to 70 years, but after that it reverts to the state.  No one knows what will happen when the 70 years is up as this law has been in effect only since 1978.  John said there is much discussion in the government about what to do as it will not make sense to empty out all the buildings and reshuffle people.    For commercial property, the use right is up in 50 years so there is more urgency to address the matter.  The only exception, if I understood him correctly, was that churches remain the property of the religious institution indefinitely.   Six years ago, John bought a new 60 meter (645 sq ft) one bedroom apartment for $50,000.  It is about 40 minutes by subway from downtown Beijing.  He had enough to make the down payment and borrowed $30,000 over 30 years for the balance.  After 70 years, it will revert to the government.  Meanwhile, he said proudly, it has already quadrupled in value.   The probability is that he will trade up to a larger apartment when he and his new wife have a child.  He thinks it does not make much difference if there is land ownership or not as people have to be somewhere and the government will find some way to let the market and the economy function.  I think he must have read about that in his book too.  Regarding businesses and especially foreign companies, John said the government owns everything, including the buildings which have been built to spec, and just rents the space to the companies.   It appeared to me that John definitely has a nice life in Beijing regardless of politics.  Why rock the boat?

We stopped at a restaurant not far from the wall for lunch.  Thankfully there were pictures and English descriptions to help us choose.  We had braised fish with eggplant, string beans with garlic, minced meat and hot peppers and roasted chicken.  The beans came first, were super, even if on the hot side, and we could have called that lunch.  Then the fish came and we ate a fair amount of that.  Finally the chicken came and I passed as I was full.  Mark managed to eat more than half of it.  We both felt better for having eaten a real meal after almost 2 days of eating almost nothing.  We were ready for the hike up to the wall.  It was a lot steeper hill to climb than I expected.  About half way up through the gauntlet of hawking vendors, John suggested we take the cable car the rest of the way.  It felt like a mirage had turned to real water.  The cable car was more expensive than the fee to visit the wall.  We did not care.  Once on the wall, we walked a bit in both directions and took several photos even though the smog reduced visibility significantly.  There were lots of young Chinese bounding around and I was beginning to feel my age.  It did not take long before we were happy to retreat to the cable car for the ride down.  Mark had some fun negotiating with a t-shirt vendor and bought 3 “top quality” shirts for $21. He could have had 3 for a dollar from several other vendors, but was convinced that he ended up with a better product.

We were back at the hotel by 5:30 and cleaned up for dinner.  Then we walked to a Peking Duck Restaurant near our hotel that was highly recommended by several people.  We had to wait in line 30 minutes for a table and then another 45 minutes before the duck carver worked his way to us.  The place was packed with people.  Apparently there are 5 floors to the place with enough room for maybe 150 diners per floor.  Can’t imagine how many ducks must be consumed every evening.  Our duck was very tasty.  It was served with thin flour tortillas, plum sauce, scallions, cucumber wedges and mashed garlic.  Mark also ordered spring rolls, but they arrived so late that we were too full to eat more than one small piece each.   So again we ate the same food, except that I ate no duck skin and Mark ate quite a bit of it.  After dinner we walked back to the hotel.  The streets were packed with people strolling around.  It was Saturday night, but all I could think was that most of these people must live in un-air conditioned apartments and go out on the streets to be cooler.  Apparently, we have chosen the hottest week of the year to be in Beijing.

Back in our cool, quiet room, Mark went to bed and I wrote until he grumbled about the light.  I slept well, but he was up several time with the same problem we had just been through.   What a drag.  We were out of Imodium, so now he was on Lomotil and a round of Cipro.   Sunday morning, July 18, we were to be picked up at 8am to visit the Temple of Heaven before driving to the airport.  Mark had yogurt for breakfast and decided to skip the temple tour.  I met John and he took me to Mass at the nearby St Joseph’s Catholic Church instead.  We got there in time for the proper of the Mass and missed the Chinese homily.  Perfect.  The church was several hundred years old and in excellent condition.  It was immediately next door to a row of fancy stores with high end names like Bally, Gucci, Armani, Boss, etc.  I loved the juxtaposition of the ancient next to the super contemporary.  Back at the hotel, Mark was managing ok so we headed for the airport.  Once there we said goodbye to John and the driver and got through check in and security smoothly only to learn that our flight was delayed an hour and a half.  No problem for me as it gave me more time to write.  A western looking gentleman sitting next to Mark struck up a conversation and we soon learned he was from San Ramon.  The two of them chatted while I wrote.  The airport, by the way, is the most futuristic and spacious airport facility we have ever been in.  In addition to beautiful, it is very quiet, well lit, has good air flow and multiple levels to increase efficiency.   John told us it was designed by a British company and that the exterior was intended to resemble a dragon’s back and, from a distance, it does.  Finally we boarded and were off the ground by 2:30 after being at the airport since 10:30.   Once we were above the smog and haze, mountains to the southwest of Beijing came into full view, wish I knew what they are called.  Dark green timber against a light green backdrop of grasses was such a change from the landscape in Mongolia and my past experience of treeless landscapes in Yunnan Province and eastern China. Immediately west of the mountains, there appeared countless small farms as far as I could see from 30,000 feet.  Roads connected small and large villages.  We must have been flying over a major food supply area near the Yellow River drainage.  Gradually the sky clouded over and we landed in Xian without seeing it.

Our new guide, Frank, walked us through the rain to our driver and unremarkable vehicle.  It took an hour to get into the city proper and Frank filled us in on lots of details.  But….more later….

…..It is late on July 18 in Xian, time to quit and send this to you.  In case any of you are concerned, Mark is improving and I am nearly back to normal.  Just had a meal our stomachs understand and now a good night’s sleep should fix the problem.

I must be tired as I think I have just merges messages 4 and 5 and can’t remember what I have sent and what I have not.   If you receive a duplication of part of the story, please blame the computer.  I will start with message 6 next time.  Julia

Our new guide, Frank, walked us through the rain to our driver and unremarkable vehicle.  It took an hour to get into the city proper and Frank filled us in on lots of details.  But….more later….

…..It is late on July 18 in Xian, time to quit and send this to you.  In case any of you are concerned, Mark is improving and I am nearly back to normal.  Just had a meal our stomachs understand and now a good night’s sleep should fix the problem.

I must be tired as I think I have just merges messages 4 and 5 and can’t remember what I have sent and what I have not.   If you receive a duplication of part of the story, please blame the computer.  I will start with message 6 next times.  Julia

July 21, 2010

Yangshou Resort

Yangshou (a town 1-hour from Guilin), China

What you read above is all there is since we arrived in Xian.  Between trying to recover from being sick, running all over Xian with Frank and struggling to send message 4 & 5 to one whole group of you, we have now arrived in Guilin with nothing new written.  The good news is we are feeling almost normal again and I got the message off to the rest of you piece meal.  Sure hope you all received it.

So, back we go to Xian on July 18.  Frank was a very interesting guide.  He spoke the best English of all our guides so far and was very knowledgeable, if a bit full of himself.  His statistics were so different than John’s that I am not sure what to believe.  Mark thinks I should get the stats over the net when we get home.  They will probably be much more accurate.  The personal side was more interesting anyway.  He and his wife of 3 years live in a 3-bedroom apartment on the 18th floor of a new high rise apartment building.  He and his wife and both sets of parents pooled their money for them to get a 3 bedroom 110 meter unit free of debt.   The 70 year rule applies to them as well and they also think the government will make some changes before the 70 years are up.  He also has a younger brother, which was against the law.  His parents wanted the second child so much that they paid a $3000 fine in 1985 when the second child was born.  Mark and I both think his parents were pretty well off to be willing and able to pay such a fine, which was very high for those days.  Unfortunately, we did not learn the amount they paid for the apartment.  He also thinks the government is very corrupt and makes fun of the situation.  He believes 99% of all government politicians are corrupt.  He had some interesting comments about capitalism vs. communism in China.  The government has decided to allow capitalism to develop until there is less poverty and the whole society is in a better place.  Then, said Frank, the government will abruptly go back to communism as that is the philosophy they really believe is better for everyone.   As far as we can tell, however, the genie is out of the bottle in a big way and we don’t see how the government will ever be able to stuff it back in again.

Meanwhile, Xian has become a city of 8 million people since it was a nowhere village in 1981.  The Terra Cotta Warriors definitely put Xian on the tourist map, but the real growth has been in industry and the exploration and exploitation of natural resources in the region including petrochemicals, iron and coal.  The air was almost as bad as in Beijing.   It was amazing to see so many foreign companies in the area—BMW, Mercedes, Buick, McDonald’s, KFC, Papa John’s Pizza.  Before arriving at our hotel, Frank took up onto the City walls, which date back to the 6th Century and encircle the city in an 8 mile square, 2 miles on a side.  It was raining and the visibility was less than a mile so we did not stay long, but it was good to get a sense of the city from the top of the wall, about 100 feet above the street.  There was clearly a height restriction inside the walls, none outside and unchecked growth upward and outward.   Finally we arrive at the Sofitel and bid Frank good evening.  We were ready for a shower, a meal we could understand and some quiet time as our bodies were still not quite back to normal.  We had several non-Chinese options and chose…that other noodle… pasta.   The rain had stopped so we walked a bit around the hotel.  The cars, lights and night life in the city are more like New York or Vegas than the middle of China—or so I had thought.  The growth here in the heart of the country still has me in shock.  I am beginning to see how China is now the largest user of energy in the world.  We are seeing the news about the flooding in the Yangtze River area, how the 3 Gorges Dam is doing its job and about the 34 million people affected. Not to sound blasé about it, we can appreciate the Chinese perspective, that it is not so many people.

On the morning of the 19th we are feeling pretty good and ready to visit the Qin Shi Tomb Army of 206BC.   First, however, Frank took us to the Tang Dynasty Great Goose Pagoda, built in 652AD to house the Sutras, or sacred Buddhist writings, the monk Xuanzang brought back from India after a long and colorful journey.  It is tipping about 3 degrees and often called the Pisa of the East.  We were quite hot by the end of that tour and glad to get back in the car.  We declined a full lunch and instead went directly to the Tea House at the Warrior Museum.   I had a simple ham and cheese sandwich, while Mark ordered Ramen noodle soup in a large paper cup.  It was served so hot he burnt the top of his mouth.  My tea came the same way and I burnt my lip.  Aren’t we a pair?

I am sure that most of you have heard of the Terra Cotta Warriors so I will not bore you with too many details, except to say there are 3 pits open to the public.  The first and largest contains over 6,000 infantry and horses and horses in battle formation under one clear span, domed roof.  More of them are unrestored than restored much to my disappointment.  The second pit is filled with cavalry and soldiers.  This pit was not damaged in 206BC so the figures are not in such bad shape.  Still, most have not been uncovered.  Once it was realized that exposure to air ruined the color very quickly, it was decided not to uncover more until an airtight process is worked out.   The third pit contains 70 officers and some horses and seems to be the command center.  Although the warrior bodies have only a handful of costumes, each face is unique and has an individually crafted expression.

What surprised me was that very little has happened since 1979.  The government put a stop to any more excavations or restorations, except to finish building the structures that enclose them, until very recently.  Restoration has now begun again inside the exposed pits.  We saw more warriors under various stages of restoration.  Many more pits have been catalogued and opened enough to determine what is in them and immediately recovered to keep them from exposure to air.  The warriors were originally painted in brilliant color, which fades in only a week once exposed to air.  Apparently a good amount if information is known, but being withheld from the public.  The story Frank told us about Qin, was that he committed suicide unintentionally by slowly consuming mercury over a period of time under the belief, given to him by the Daoist monks he retained, that mercury would make him immortal.  He died at the age of 49 with most of his afterlife plans completed.  According to historical sources, his afterlife empire contained a floor cut by rivers of mercury beneath a ceiling of pearls representing the night sky.  In addition to the mercury there may be trap or trick entrances.   If so, that would explain why the tomb has been only partially excavated.  I wonder when we will have the technology to see underground clearly without having to dig things up.  The Chinese believe that this is the largest, 56+ hectares and most complete tomb in the world.  The other bit of info I had missed was that the Han Dynasty, which followed Qin immediately after his death in 206BC, wasted no time opening the Terra Cotta Warrior Pit 1, breaking the infantry to bits and setting the pit on fire.  What a day it will be when we get to see what is in the tomb and other pits.  Even though I remembered parts of our 1981 visit, it was really wonderful to see it all again and the new tourist aspects that have been added.  A newer Exhibition Hall on site presents many details up close, well lit and explained in English.  We were at the site for almost 4 hours, including the time we spent in the tourist store looking at warriors, happy Buddha’s and other stuff we did not need.  It was close, but we managed to get away without buying anything.

Back in the city, over an hour later, we drove to the Great Mosque built in 742 during the Tang dynasty.  It is a Chinese style mosque, built when Islam was a young religion.  Set in the midst of a busy, noisy, Muslim neighborhood, it is a tranquil place with 4 courtyards, many wooden Qing era buildings and a short, octagonal pagoda for a minaret.  Of much more interest to us was the neighborhood.  Teeming with people, the alleyways contained vendors hawking every imaginable item, especially food cooked to order.  The smells were marvelous even though we knew better than to try anything.  We both took lots of photos until we had to find a place we could eat too.   Frank took us into “the best dumpling restaurant” in Xian, where we ordered 2 set meals which include one of every kind of dumpling available, plus a large plate of the staple food of Xian, boiled dumplings.  Having just recovered our stomachs, we were not too sure about what we were getting into, but once the food came and we had a beer in hand, we were fine.  I actually liked the boiled dumplings the best.  Next time I will just order them.  Desert, as everywhere we have been, was delicious, cold watermelon.   It was a long, but interesting and fun day.  Back at the Sofitel, we both crashed.

Up early on the 21st, Frank wanted to give us as much time as possible in the Shaanxi History Museum before heading to the airport.  It was not on our itinerary, but some of you had recommended the Museum so strongly we asked Frank to add it and we are really glad we did.  We were at the door when it opened at 8:30am and already there was a long line of people waiting to get the free, but required, tickets.  Frank took us in through the gift shop to skip the crowds.  What a delightful museum!  Mood lighting accented the well displayed items in chronological sequence from pre-history through the Tang Dynasty until Xian began to decline as the Ming Dynasty gained ground in Beijing.  The Tang-dynasty section contained the original three-color polychrome earthenware Sancai Horse that is so often reproduced and other wonderful pottery pieces.  There is an excellent section on the Terra Cotta Warriors that includes items that are not at the Qin Tomb site, especially the 2 exquisite ½-life size bronze chariots, each drawn by 4 horses.  There were also a few tantalizing pieces from pits that have not been opened to the public, including a bronze swan, a terra cotta acrobat and a coat of armor made of linked stones—can’t imagine who would wear it.   We made it through the museum with the crowds, thankfully, behind us and were about to pass out through the gift shop, when Frank had a sales person present me with a mahjong set.   I had mentioned that I played the game and would like to find an old set if possible, but had totally forgotten my comment.  He had not.  Now I have a 50-60 year old set to carry home with all the rest of the stuff we have purchased.    I asked Frank about scoring and he admitted that, although he played the game, he did not know how to score.  Well, mahjong ladies, we know have one more set, but no improved info on scoring.

Our flight to Guilin was on time and uneventful, except for the view of the flooded Yangtze River drainage as we flew over it.  The water was muddy brown everywhere.  We were met by Michael, our third and final Chinese guide.  He was a sweet and gentle man we liked right away.  On the 1 ½ hour drive to the hotel, we talked a lot about him and asked the same questions we had asked John and Frank.  Unlike them, Michael is less well-healed.  He, his wife and child live in a small two-room apartment, which they rent from the government.  He is a free-lance guide like the other two.  His wife is a school teacher and they live in Guilin.  When we told him about the others, he admitted that there was a time during the few years before 9/11 during which the guiding business was very lucrative and it was easy to make and save good money.  While others were cashing in, he and his wife spent those years as volunteers for Doctors without Borders.   Once he went back to guiding, tourism had collapsed and he was barely making ends meet.  Business is somewhat better now, but not as before.  He said he has no regrets, however, as he liked the volunteer work and wants to do it again in 10 years or so after he retires.   His comments on politics were more personal.  He said he can talk all he wants about the system and the government to anyone, as long as he does not take any action.  He has no illusions about life in China, but, since there is nothing he can do about it, he, like the other guides, puts on a smile and goes about his business.  He hopes democracy and freedom will come to China during his lifetime.   We hope with him.

The weather in Guilin is 36 Celsius; just as hot and humid as Beijing.  We have not gotten used to it.   We have a mini-van for the Guilin area and a cute 27-year old driver with a baby face.   He cannot understand a word of English, but he smiles often and is very obliging.  Within a short distance from the airport we see our first karst tree covered hills I have seen so often in photographs and Chinese art.  Even though the sky is hazy and partially overcast, the landscape met my expectations.  The closer we got to Guilin the more hills we saw.  The small valleys between the hills are very lush and full of ripening rice.  People are working everywhere in the fields and the scene provides the image of rural Chine I imagine it was for centuries.   I can’t help myself and take numerous photos from the road.  Late in the afternoon we arrive at our hotel on the banks of the Yulong River near the outskirts of the small town of Yangshou.  Our room overlooked the river, hotel gardens and a huge swimming pool, the first we have seen on this trip.  Hot and tired, we went directly to the pool and let our bodies sizzle in the not very cold, but rejuvenating water.   We had the night off and were glad to have no agenda.  It was 8pm before we went to find some dinner.  We had been told there were a Chinese and a “western” restaurant in the hotel.  The western restaurant was located outdoors by the river, but there was no one there when we arrived and the menu looks pretty sparse.   So we went to the Chinese Restaurant, which had only  4 groups including us, and had a disappointing mix of Chinese dishes.  Never mind, we were glad not to go out, and happy to spend the evening in our very nice room.  Wi-Fi works in the room and I can write as late as I want.

Breakfast on July 22 is no better than dinner in our hotel.  We eat the yogurt, fruit and toast.  Mark said even the bacon was cold.  Anyway, we are excited to be out at 8am for our long awaited boat ride on the Li River.  Michael has arranged a ride for us where tourists don’t go and is, according to him, even more scenic.  He was right on both counts.  We had a wonderful float down the Li River from Yangshou.  We stopped at the old traditional village of Fuli, which contained mostly old people and a few small children.  Many buildings had been abandoned and the occupied ones looked very dilapidated.  Michael told us, the few young men and women had gone to big cities to work and would send money home when they could.  Meanwhile, the grandparents took care of the children.  He thought the town would die within 20 years when the old people were gone.  There would be nothing worth saving.  We were clearly the only visitors in the very picturesque town and were able to go slowly and take a number of photos.  Back on the River we continued downstream to the village of Liu Gong, also old, but with a mix of new unfinished brick buildings.  Because of the new construction, Michael believed the young people would eventually finish the houses and move back into them when they raised enough money.   This town was not as interesting and we encountered one group of tourists.  Michael also took us on a hike to see three different colored ponds.  The hike was very hot and the three ponds were the same color—a bust in our book.  I would have preferred to boat back upriver, but our van met us at the edge of the village and took us back to our hotel.  This time we went to the “western” restaurant, ordered beer and a ham and cheese sandwich and went directly into the river for a swim there.  The water was a tiny bit cooler than the pool and we were eye level with bamboo rafts floating down river with Chinese tourists sitting on bamboo chairs under large, colorful umbrella’s with a boat man polling each one.  They were thoroughly enjoying themselves and so were we.  Lunch arrived; we split what came and then spent more time in the pool.  Finally cooled off, we returned to the room to read, write and get ready for an evening in town.  We had a good Chinese meal, selected by Michael and then, in a light rain, went to the Liu Sanjie Evening Show just south of town on the Li River bank in what is for sure one of the world’s largest natural amphitheaters.  Earlier in the morning we had passed the theater and knew the place was huge.  In the evening we were surrounded by thousands of boisterous Chinese pressing to get into the theater all at once.  Fortunately, we had assigned seats so we did not rush.  At the entrance, plastic rain ponchos were passed out to each ticket holder in case it really rained hard.  Clearly, the show would go on regardless.  Our seats were wet, but Michael had come prepared and pulled a towel out of his bag.  He told us what to expect on the program, advised us to stay seated until he came to get us and then disappeared.   We felt impressed and pampered.  The cast consisted of over 500 singers and dancers.  There were many bamboo boats, cormorant birds and even water buffalo.   The program was designed and directed by the same man who created the 2008 Olympics, so you can appreciate that it was a first rate production.  The set included the karst hills on both sides of the river in a roughly U shape and were stunning when lit up at the beginning of the program.  Lighted Bamboo rafts glided on the river from every direction and angle depending on the act.  The costumes were very colorful and interesting.  One costume was lit from within and could be turned on or off and into a second set of colors.  There were at least 150 or more people in such costumes and they made a spectacular display.  My favorite act was the sudden appearance of bright red fabric shimmering on the water in 3-400 foot long, 4-foot wide strips lifted by people on bamboo rafts, linked together.  There must have been 15-20 rows of fabric and the bamboo people shifted back and forth raising and lowering the fabric in a variety of patterns.  It is very had to describe, but was beautiful to watch.  We loved the performance.  We hated the Chinese audience.   I had forgotten that they talk all the time during a performance, making it hard to hear the singers, and never clap.  It must be distressing to be a performer.   Michael thought they were that way because no one taught them any different behavior.  Hmmm.  Luckily, the rain never materialized and we returned to the hotel having experienced a very satisfying day.

July 23, 2010

This was exercise day.  We met Michael at 7am and headed to town for a bike ride.  Along the way, we encountered a funeral procession, so stopped to watch the firecrackers and the lion dancers drive away evil spirits while the casket was carried down the road. Men lighting many rounds of firecrackers lead the way, followed by white clad family members, assisted by friends, walking backwards, falling to their knees every few feet.  Then came two Chinese lion dancers, like one’s we see on Chinese New Year, who performed a wild dance around the casket.  Behind the casket came drummers, cymbal clangors and more friends and neighbors.  It was quite a production.  Our timing was perfect and we watched for about 20 minutes as they carried on down the street.

One of the benefits of traveling on our own is an event, like the funeral, that just appears unexpectedly.  We can choose to make digressions without worrying about a group itinerary or time table.  By 8am we had 8-speed mountain bikes and helmets and were headed out of town on a side street with little traffic.  We rode through rice fields in every phase of growth from fallow land to harvesting.  We rode through villages and around karst hills and stopped to take lots of photos.  As long as we peddled, we had a cool breeze.  It felt good to be doing something physical, besides walking.  After we finished the bike ride, Michael took us to a karst cave system called Watercave.  The karst hills are extremely porous and rocky so there are caves everywhere, although few are developed for viewing.  At Watercave we donned hard hats and climbed into a boat on a small lake at the entrance to the cave.  The boat man pulled us into the cave by a series of ropes attached to the ceiling of the cave.   Once a few hundred feet inside, the lake was too shallow to continue so we got out and hiked half a mile or more up, under, around and through many different stalactite and stalagmite formations, banging our hard hats on the low formations all along the way.  We were really glad we had them and that we did not have to get on our hands and knees.  The cave had been found about 20 years ago by a European backpacker and then been developed by some Chinese businessmen.  Two young female guides accompanied us with large flashlights and pointed out a variety of interesting formations and shapes.  Between their torches and the intermittent lighting set up inside the cave, we never felt claustrophobic; with nearly 100% humidity inside the cave, we did not feel cool either.   Once at the far end, we had to retrace our steps.  This time we had a better sense of how low the passages were and scratched our hard hats only a few times.    Having had enough hot humid activity for the day, we drove back to town and talked Michael into joining us for pizza.  He refused the beer, however, so we drank it.  We were very ready for a swim by then so we headed back to the hotel and spent the rest of the afternoon soaking in the cool water, doing laundry and writing.  Back to town in the evening for the local dining specialty, beer fish, which was very tasty, if a bit boney, we walked around the pedestrian streets of town mostly watching the thousands of Chinese tourists on holiday as they window shopped in the many open stores, restaurants, bars, karaoke clubs and ice cream parlors.    We too bought Italian Gelato ice cream cones and slurped our way down the street.  Eventually we had had enough, called our driver and headed home for the night.

On the 23rd we drive to the village of Longshen.

More from there if they have wi-fi and we have time.   Julia

July 24, 2010

Lian Lodge, Ping An, China

I forgot to mention that at dinner in Yengshou the evening of the 22nd, Mark and I decided to try the local snake wine.  We had purchased a bottle of it when we were in Vietnam several years ago, but have never opened it.  Michael suggested we try it without seeing the bottle first.  So we said ok.  We only have a few days left and we have already recovered from the tourist bug, so why not.  Well, it tastes about as awful as you might expect, although wedid not get any sense of “snake”, whatever that might be.  One sip each was enough.   One more thing we can check off our list of things to try once.

On the morning of the 23rd we departed Yengshou and drove north along a beautiful stretch of highway with karst hills along both sides of the road. After about an hour we pulled into a 1500 acre park called Yuzi Paradise.  We had no idea what to expect, but found ourselves being driven around in a golf cart and viewing exquisitely manicured grounds with huge sculptures placed strategically into the landscape.  This was an extra that Asia Transpacific Journeys included and we loved it.  In addition to the outdoor sculpture, we visited an exhibition hall and saw many more pieces of first rate art.  Apparently over 150 artists have been commissioned to exhibit their work by the owner/developer of the project.  He is a wealthy Taiwanese who looked all over Asia for the perfect place to create a sculpture park and settled on the karst landscape near Guilin, much to our delight.

Back on the highway, we bypassing Guilin and gradually began to climb into the mountains.  The road narrowed and became very curvy with trees, creeks and hillsides encroaching close to the pavement—very much like Hwy 49 near Downieville.  As we came around a turn we encountered a large truck that had just swerved into the concrete drainage ditch to avoid hitting, unsuccessfully, other cars that had stopped because of an accident further up the road.  Our driver had been going slow enough to avoid the pileup.  It looked like we were in for a long wait, but our driver managed to get the van turned around and, not far back down the hill, he took a side road.  It was even narrower and curvier.  Michael said it was the old highway and would serve us well in this situation.  We reached Rongshui River Valley, 850 meters above Guilin, only 10 minutes later than we would have without the detour.  We had to pay a fee to enter the valley, one of many we have paid to travel on toll roads, enter tourist areas or even to enter some towns and villages.  Chinese tourists pay these fees as well as us foreigners.   Upon entering the valley, we were in the township or county of Longsheng.  We stopped to drop off our big suitcases at a prearranged farm house where we encountered people from the two minority groups who inhabit the area and retain their own customs and costumes. The road continued up several steep switchback turns for a couple more miles to a large car park where we had to leave the car and continue on foot roughly 30-40 minutes to our lodge, which was a good 400 feet or more above the car park.  Michael hired two Zhuang women porters to carry our small bags.  They promptly stuffed them into bamboo baskets and headed up the hill.  Later, when we were only half way up, we saw them headed back down with empty baskets.  I had expected, romantically, that we would be walking up narrow rice terrace paths, but found ourselves in a crowd of Chinese tourists also heading up the hill on a wide concrete path packed with vendors on both sides.  We no sooner started out when several sedan chair proprietors wanted us to use their services.  Mark wanted no part of them at first, but I suggested we take a ride in them as it would probably be the only chance we would ever have and, I argued, they looked like they needed the work.  He finally agreed and soon we were settled into two chairs.  It was a pretty comfortable ride, but it was hard to watch them strain to carry our weight.  About a third of the way up the hill, the path crosses a bridge and turns to steps.  We stopped them there.  The vendors also stopped at the bridge.   The rest of the walk was more picturesque as we passed among the wooden houses of the village, called Ping An.  Soon we were at the top of the village and the entrance to Lian Lodge, our home for the next two nights.  High up on the mountainside, our room looked out over spectacularly terraced rice fields and the tree covered mountains on the other side of the canyon.   The lodge served us a late lunch and we happily retired to our room to enjoy the view, the quiet and the rest.  We learned that the area was settled by the Yao and the Zhuang people about 500 years ago.  It took them 400 years to complete the stone terracing and bamboo irrigation system.  Since then the villagers have maintained the fields and irrigation canals and, in the fallow season, spent their time repairing eroded terraces.  In addition to rice, they grow corn, sweet potatoes and chili peppers, as they like their food spicy.   After dinner we watched a film made by the lodge owner about the rice terraces with the only other guests, another rare American couple.  We enjoyed a very quiet night with only the sound of rain, which let up by morning.

Michael arrived at our doorstep at 9am on the 24th and off we went on a 2 ½ hour hike up, around and through the rice fields.  We were early enough to miss the tourists who come up the hill on day trips from Guilin and enjoyed a peaceful morning.  At one point we encountered five Yao women who wanted us to buy their “handmade” wares.  After much discussion, I finally selected a small runner that looked like it might be homemade.  Most of their merchandise was definitely not.  After we settled on the price, I asked if they would let down their hair, which is uniquely long.  So, they all did.  Their hair fell to below their knees and was a course, shiny black.  When they let it down, two additional bundles of equally long hair fell out.  It turns out Yao women cut their hair once when they are 17 to signify adulthood and save that hair.  After that, when they comb their hair, they collect the strands that fall out into another bundle.  Once we had taken several photos, they put their hair back together in the traditional style and began to sing.  Michael said they always sing when they do their hair. It was a double treat for us as we made a video of them singing.  The whole morning was delightful , even with 2-3 intermittent showers and the usual overcast sky.  After lunch we went out again in a different direction for a walk to a nearby old Zhaung village called Longji.  As we entered the village we passed by a large hall with a very noisy party in progress.  Apparently it is common in the countryside for families to celebrate the first month of a baby’s life by inviting family and friends to celebrate.  The host family provides a huge meal with the expectation that the guests give money.  The process is repeated when the child turns one year old and again when he or she gets married.  Later in the day, there will be lots of fire crackers set off.   We walked into the center of the village encountering no tourists or vendors and found a group of old men watching a man repairing woks.  Using a small bellows, he heated coal in a small clay pot until it was hot enough to melt some iron filings.  Then he poured the molten iron onto the wok near the hole and, using clay as a back stop, worked with it until the hole was gone and the iron solidified.   Michael explained that the huge woks being repaired were for cooking food for pigs, not for people.  The villagers believe that pigs will grow bigger and faster if they eat cooked rather than raw food.  While Mark supervised the wok repair, I sat down with Michael to learn to play a card game that is often used to replace mahjong tiles because it is easy to transport, is not noisy and can be played anywhere, even on the ground.  I got some of the rudiments of the game and bought a deck, but the characters are in Chinese and I do not have them all memorized.  We photographed the cards in sequence to help me remember and Michael promised to email the directions in English.  The cards only set me back 5 Yuan.  The sun had finally broken through the overcast and we had a steep, hot and steamy hike uphill to Ping An, and our room.  The shower was most needed and refreshing.

In all the minority mountain villages, the houses are made of Chinese fir boards, the product of a local tree.  They are very pretty, two-three story buildings that are built without the use of nails and are stained or oiled a natural tone.  Our lodge was built in this style and was very attractive.  The 16 rooms are small, but comfortable and charming.  Each is decorated differently.  We were in “Double Happiness”, which was painted red and contained a king size bed and just enough room to walk around it.

The lodge was full by evening with Europeans and a family from Argentina.  A couple of scotches and we were happy campers, never mind that I seemed to be catching a cold.  The lodge energy settled down about 10:30 and we enjoyed our last night in the countryside.

July 26, 2010

Airport Crowne Plaza Hotel, Beijing

Our last full day in China, July 25, we said our goodbyes to the lodge staff and were headed down the steps with Michael by 8am.  This time, the weather was sunny and the walk down the mountain pleasant and photogenic.  Between the rain and the crowds we had missed a lot on the way up.  We stopped several times to look at the minority peoples textiles and found a couple of things that appealed.

Back at the car, we retraced our steps back to Guilin and were in the city by 11am.  The driver took us directly to Fubo Hill in the middle of the city and next to the Li River to see hundreds of Buddha images carved into the open cave walls during the sung dynasty 1000 years ago.  The oldest Buddha’s were very different in appearance and, to me, more appealing than the images we see in most places.   In addition there were many poems and writings that have been carved into the walls over the centuries by famous Chinese people.  One might call it old graffiti.  Guilin was very hot and humid compared to the cooler mountains around Ping An.  We were melting.  Michael suggested we have the local specialty for lunch—rice noodles.  Mark said only if the place had AC.  Well, the best rice noodles in town are served at the Chinese version of a fast food joint, which had a fan but no AC.  We went anyway.   You go through a line and select the toppings you want on the noodles and add as much chili as you want.  The food came very fast and we loved it.  Mark sat under the fan.  I wanted more, but was too hot and full to have seconds.    The best AC was in the van so back in it we drove to another cave called Reed Flute Cave.  Nearly every Karst hill has a cave as they are rather like rocky Swiss cheese at this stage of their evolution.  Dozens have been opened to the public.  Reed Flute Cave is the most famous.  It has been visited by Nixon, Clinton and Bush and now us.  The cave has several very large caverns and winds more than 1600 feet into and under the hill.  It is well presented and lit a bit too colorfully with neon lights.  Apparently, the cave provided a hiding place for over 2000 people during the Japanese invasion in the 40’s.  The entrance was covered with reeds and effectively invisible to the Japanese.

With time to spare, Michael suggested we visit the Chinese Pearl Museum, which is really a pearl jewelry factory with a very large showroom.  I went right for the best and selected a beautiful pearl choker.  The $84,000+ price burst that bubble and we walked out.  Fortunately, I had had no time to build any expectations.  According to the information we received, the Chinese pearls are much better than Japanese pearls—something about not being polished and having natural luster that lasts longer.  I doubt I could tell one from the other, but there were no Japanese pearls around to make the comparison.

Then we went to the University Art Museum, where professional and student art is on display and available for sale.  That was more up our alley and we found a piece to add to our collection for a pittance, compared to the pearls.

Finally we headed to the airport and said goodbye to the driver, whose name we never did get, and Michael.  We both voted him the best guide we have had anywhere in our years of traveling and told him so.  We hope to stay in touch.  If any of you are ever planning to go to the Guilin area, please let us hook you up with him.

We arrived at the Beijing Airport Crowne Plaza around 9:45pm, had a bite to eat in the hotel, showered and went to bed exhausted.

Now, at 9am on July 26th, as I sit in the room writing these last words of our Mongolian/China adventures, I can say that it has been an interesting, educational and satisfying experience that I would strongly recommend with very few changes.  Asia TransPacific really did provide us with superior service and excellent selections to match our requests and needs.  At this point, however, we are glad to be headed home and wish we could beam ourselves there rather than live through the next 24+ hours of travel.

See you all very soon, Julia

Tanzania, South Africa, Swaziland, Lesotho & Madagascar–2009

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania

Jambo…We are safe and sound in Dar after having a very pleasant stay in London.  Our hotel, the Royal Park, was in Bayswater, Westminster, very near Hyde Park.  We took the train to Paddington Station and walked our bags about 2 blocks to the small, unpretentious and very pleasant facility.  We slept a lot and more or less adapted to the time change. During our first day we walked around Hyde Park and later took a bus to Victoria Station where we had a good Italian dinner at Zizzi’s.  From there we walked around the corner to the Apollo Theatre and saw the play “Wicked”, about the unfortunate life of the witch of the West.  It was a delightful musical.  Sunday we took a bus tour of the city, including a long stop at the Tower of London.  Learned all the gory details of activities that took place there.  One building was full of weapons and armor that was more interesting than I expected.  There were videos of how to put on the gear and how jousting works.  We looked through an armor helmet to learn what one sees from the inside and it is not much at all.  Must have been miserable being in such a suit—hot, uncomfortable, poor visibility and fairly un-maneuverable.  The only way it would have made any sense is if the enemy was in such a suit too.  Most interesting was the actual suit worn by Henry VIII.  He was very big in every way, so his suit is very large and fancy in design.  No surprise he quit using one in his early 50’s and soon died at the age of 55.  On leaving the tower, we took a nice boat ride up the Thymes to Westminster Abby.  Normally closed on Sunday’s, the Abby doors were opened just as we arrived.  We lucked into a free organ concert of Bach’s Sonata II.  The opportunity was too good to pass up so we enjoyed the stained glass windows and the ambiance of the Abby while we listened.  We bussed back to the hotel, cleaned up and walked around the corner to the Aberdeen Steak House opposite Paddington Station.  Had an excellent meal there and chatted a long time with two ladies from Wales who were in town to see a cricket match.  One of them has 400 sheep on an 80 acre ranch.  She says the land can handle it because there is so much rain and the grass is always green.  Sure not like our ranches in California.

Monday morning we luxuriated in our hotel until noon.  Left our bags there and walked to Buckingham Palace.  Just missed the guard change.  Then we walked to Harrod’s just to see what it was like.  It is not only huge—seven floors of stuff—but there is every conceivable thing one can imagine to buy as well as things you would never imagine—mostly high end, but some clearance racks and medium priced things as well.  All we bought was lunch and a couple of books.  The most unbelievable item for me was an 8×3 foot slab of exquisitely beautiful, highly polished, petrified wood from, of all places, the Black Forest in Arizona.  Asking price—only 70,000 pounds, about $120,000.  We walked back to the hotel, grabbed our bags and pulled them to Paddington Station for the trip back to the airport.  The train sure beats taking a taxi—both in price and time.  Mark figured we walked at least 6 miles that afternoon.  I know I was ready to sit on the plane.

Our flight to Dar Es Salaam was lovely.  Our business class seats could actually go flat so we were able to get some good rest and sleep.  We arrived at 7am and were met by our guide, Ian, a delightful and informative fellow from Zimbabwe who will be with us throughout Tanzania.  We will be in good hands.  The Sea Cliff is our hotel and we have a lovely room overlooking the hotel grounds and the ocean, about 100 feet away.  The sky is a solid, dark overcast with intermittent rain.  The air is hot and humid.  We have arrived in Africa.

Kwa heri (good bye in Swahili) for now and blessings to you all,  Julia and Mark

June 29, 2009

Cathedral Peaks, Drackensberg Mountains, South Africa

Hello from the most beautiful mountain range in SA.   The uKhahlamba-Drakensberg Park is a World Heritage Site.  There are soaring basaltic buttresses, golden sandstone ramparts, rolling high altitude grasslands, steep-sided river valleys and rocky gorges.  Additionally, the landscape has many rock shelters containing the largest and most concentrated group of rock paintings made by the San people over a 4000+ year period. 

Today we completed a scheduled 5 hour loop walk in 6 hours and 15 minutes.  We stopped often to absorb the scenery, take photos and enjoy a nice picnic lunch.   Started from our hotel at 4820 ft and climbed 1700 feet for spectacular 360 degree vistas.  The weather was a perfect winter day—totally sunny and gently warm, with a soft breeze now and then.  Along the way we saw forests of protea shrubs the size of small trees, a few wild flowers, two waterfalls and a troup of baboons.  This hike ranks in the top 5 for our all time best hikes.  Very special!   Our legs were like rubber and our knees were screaming when we returned—1000mgs of IBU for Mark and a rare soak in the tub for me.  We are feeling very relaxed and ready for dinner.  So more later.

Later it is.  We got up yesterday morning at 2:30am in Matemwe, Zanzibar to catch an early flight to Nairobi and another flight to Johannesberg.   With a one hour time change we arrived in Jo’berg at 12:30pm, were met by an agent who gave us our travel documents for SA, helped us pick up our rental car, gave us directions and tips on driving and sent us on our way with a picnic lunch for the road.   Although we were very tired, Mark drove the 4 hours it took to reach Cathedral Peaks.  It was almost dark when we arrived, but the scenery along the way was wide open golden plains and rolling hills—more expansive than driving through the big California valleys.  It did not take Mark long to adapt to the left side drive.  “Just keep the white line on the right” said our agent. 

So what has happened since you last heard from us in London?  We had a wonderful 2 weeks in Tanzania.  We arrived in Dar es Salaam early in the morning along with another couple in our group, were picked up and driven directly to our hotel, where our rooms were waiting, thankfully.  The weather was hot, overcast and humid with a few sprinkles now and then.  We were too tired to do any sight seeing so we hung around the hotel pool and visited with group members as we met them.  That evening we shared a welcome dinner and met everyone in the group.  I can tell you now that we were all pretty compatible and got along very nicely.  There were 14 paying members, two specialist guides, Ian and Andy, and a Stanford trip coordinator, Deborah.  Deborah made the trip run smoothly and handled all problems and issues quietly and efficiently.   With her working on all the details the rest of us were free to have fun and enjoy our adventures.  Ian and Andy now much about the animals, birds, trees and plants we encountered and they did their best to help find as much action as possible. 

 From Dar we flew in a chartered Caravan to Ruaha National Park for four nights in Kigale, a tented camp.  Recently built and operated by an Australian couple, it is a fairly simple and rustic camp.  We had our own toilet and bucket shower, which were outside and adjacent to our tent in small enclosures.  The water was boiled and smelled like smoke from the wood used to heat it.  The electricity was solar and generator powered.  We were careful not to use too much of either.  One bucket provided Mark and I with a hot shower in the evening before dinner and Mark with a cold shower the next afternoon.  Our tent was the farthest from the dining tent and we had to be escorted back and forth after dark as there was no fencing around the camp and the animals wander around freely.  Nothing exciting ever happened to us, although others saw elephant and civet near their tents.  The food was reasonable and plentiful, especially given the effort required to get it to camp.  The nearest shopping post was three hours away by dirt road.  Must stop now to get some sleep.

June 30, 2009

We have a relaxed morning sitting in the sun on our balcony at Cathedral Peaks, so back our adventure.

Ruaha National Park at 4000 square miles is one of the largest game parks in Africa and one of the least visited.  During the 4 days we were there  we saw only a few other vehicles and never did we share a sighting with anybody else.  The landscape consists of gentle rolling grassland, savannah dominated by forests of baobab, acacia and euphorbia or candelabra trees.  The escarpment can just barely be seen in the distance.  There has been no rain this season so the whole park is very dry, with few places for the wildlife to get water, except the Ruaha River, which was a long drive from our camp.

The animals are not adapted to vehicles as in heavily visited parks so it was harder to find them and much harder to catch them stalking prey or doing something interesting.   We did see a number of lions (17 in one group alone) doing what they do best on hot days—lay in the sun digesting their last meal. However, we saw no other cats, or aggressive carnivores, except crocodiles, vultures and fish eagles.  There were large numbers of maasai giraffe, Birchell’s zebra, cape buffalo, yellow baboons and impala, a two toned antelope.  Not quite so plentiful but still numerous were the saharah elephant, vervet monkeys, wart hogs, greater and lesser kudu, crocodile and hippo.  We were lucky to spot a few dik diks (a very small, shy and cute antelope that takes one mate for life), a few black-backed jackal, one small group of Grant’s gazelle, a few rock hyrax and banded mongooses.  This park presented us with our first sighting of a bat-eared fox and a slender mongoose.  Each animal was close to the vehicle as we came around a bend and stayed put long enough for us to get several photos.  Very exciting! 

There are over 450 species of birds in the park and we saw many of them.  Our favorites include the lilac breasted roller, little bee-eaters, red-billed hornbills, marshall eagle, hammerkop, saddle billed stork, pied kingfisher and many more.  We both really enjoy looking at and identifying birds.

To see the park, we traveled in 4-6 passenger bush land rovers and went in different directions to avoid each other’s dust and have a more private experience.  We mixed ourselves up on the game drives to get to know each other better and have time with each guide.  Each day we went out early in the morning for a drive or a walk, had lunch in camp and relaxed during the heat of the day, then went out again in the late afternoon until dusk.  Sundowners under a baobab tree on a slight hill with a view of the surrounding scenery were delightful for us and gave the staff a good vantage point to watch for animals.  Unfortunately, from our point of view, the park management does not allow night game drives in either park we visited in Tanzania.  In the evening we enjoyed outdoor candlelight meals and star gazing until bed time, which came early as we were awakened at 5:30am each day for the morning drive.  During the night we could hear the occasional roar of a lion and yip of hyenas.  Otherwise it was very quiet. 

On June 21, we said our farewells to the Kigale Camp staff and drove to the airstrip for our Caravan flight to The Selous.  The flight took an hour and 45 minutes in a south easterly direction and landed at the Sand Rivers airstrip in The Selous Game Reserve, which contains about 17 thousand square miles.  Most of the reserve is managed for hunting with only about 20% devoted to photography safaris. 

We arrived at the San Rivers Safari Camp and were greeted by smiling staff offering cold towels and cool drinks.  We all felt the pleasure of experiencing the uptick in the world of bush camping.  Perched on the bank of the Rafiji River, the air was a touch cooler, the lodge spacious and built with concrete floors, stone walls and a heavy thatched roof.  Unlike Kigale, which is a temporary camp, Sand Rivers is permanent and has a much larger staff even though both camps are built for 14 people.  Each unit is built partially on stilts, has partial stone walls and thatched roofs like the lodge.  All for side open to the outdoors and animals come and go at will.  So we had to keep our dop kits zipped and stowed when not being used.  Our main visitors were baboons, monkeys and bushbabys, who make a very distinctive and loud shrieking sound.  Our bed is totally enclosed by mosquito netting and gives a feeling, at least, of safety during the night.  In Kigale the tent zipped up so we were protected from the bugs and animals.  The food is also a step up from Kigale along with the choice of activities.  The facility has a nice swimming pool, a library and curio shop.  In addition to game drives and bush walks, there are boating excursions, fishing opportunities, and a ranger station where there is an ongoing effort to save the rhino.  At the moment it is believed there are about 17 rhino in the whole reserve.  Poaching of rhino and elephant is a big and growing problem for park rangers in every park and for the world for that matter.

.  During our arrival lunch we were told about our adventure options and Mark and I signed on for an afternoon boat ride on the Rifiji and an all day drive in search of a wild dog den, which the staff had recently located.  We loved being on the water for a change from driving on rough roads in the bush.  Hippo and crocodile were everywhere and always fun to watch.  We also saw shore birds such as the African Skimmer (considered on of the 10 classic African birds), a few fish eagles and monitor lizards.  Back at camp we enjoyed sundowners on the patio overlooking the river, a delicious dinner by the pool and crawling into the largest bed we have ever slept in.  It was the size of three twin bed put together, but was only one mattress.  Great sleeping once the bushbaby finished screaching.  We could hear hippo grunting as they walked passed our units heading to their grazing grounds.  Wish we could have seen them, but we stayed tucked in our netted bed. 

The next day was most exciting for me as I have never seen wild dog.  Mark has never let me forget that the only time I stayed in camp rather than go on a drive, several years ago, he got to see them hunting during an evening drive.  Because the dogs are so far from camp we depart at 7pm and drive for over 3 hours before finding them.  The unexpected bonus was that we drove through a wide variety of landscapes including a huge meadow of bunch grass(really hard to drive through); palm forests with the unusual dome palm that starts with one trunk that branches into 4-5 trunks with the expected palm tree top; wide open savanah with the odd acacia and mixed brush and dry grass lands.  The day was nearly perfect—a partial overcast sky kept the blazing sun at bay and a slight breeze kept us comfortable. 

In spite of agreeing not to stop for photos until the return trip, we had to stop for unusual sightings along the way.  Finally, we find the dogs—4 of them—doing what full lions do—sleep.  One male and 2 females were in the shade of a tree, while the mother slept on the other side of a small drainage, where we believe the den must be.  The mother looked really awful.  Much of her skin was bald and she seemed to have a bad rash around her neck and upper body.  The other dogs were in better shape, although our guide thought that they probably have lesser degrees of the same condition.  We stayed with the dogs for an hour, drove a long way for lunch prepared by Sun Rivers staff and back again for another 45 minutes of being with the dogs, who moved around just enough for us to take more photos.  We were sorry not to see the pups, but glad for the drive and the encounter.  We stopped at several places on the return trip and got back to the Lodge just in time for a shower and dinner. 

Need to stop to get this sent before we run out of internet time.  Will continue at the next opportunity.  Tomorrow we have a very long day driving up through the Drackensberg Mountains via Sami Pass and into Lesotho.

Hope you are all well.  We are completely adjusted to African time and place now.  Three weeks seems to be the amount of time we need to hit our stride.

God bless you all, Julia and Mark

July 8, 2009

The Royal Villas, Ezulwini Valley, Swaziland

Dear Friends,

Am picking up from where we left off in Cathedral Peaks.  On our third day there we got up at 5:30 to hit the road at 6am for a 3 hour drive south to a small town called Underwood where we met our driver/guide.  This is the day we travel up the Sani Pass at 9700 feet and into Lesotho.  From Underwood the pass is about 50km, but from the base of the mountain to the pass, only 8 km, the road is so bad we are glad we have left the driving to the guide.  He was quite conversational and drove very slowly and carefully over the boulder strewn hair pin turns up the steep grade.  It took us 2 hours to get to the Lesotho border crossing just beyond the top.  There the landscape was barren, partially ice covered and cold.   We drove just a short distance to a small Besotho village and visited with a woman, Belina, who has lived there all her life and seemed quite content and maybe even happy.  She makes bread, beer, small fabric dolls and grass baskets to sell to visitors.  We tried the bread (excellent), the beer (not so good) and bought a doll for the kids at Hennessey School.  Also took lots of photos.  Then we had lunch at the “Highest Pub in Africa” on the edge of the pass and headed back down the mountain.  Got back to Underwood about 3pm and arrived at our hotel at 6:30.  Exhausted, we went directly to dinner without cleaning up and then to bed.  We had a good experience.  I only wish we had planned to spend more time in Lesotho.

The next day, July 1, we were at Cathedral Peaks heliport at 7am for an early flight around the central and northern Drackensberg’s.  It was a crystal clear morning with no breeze or clouds, perfect for our close and personal 1 hour 15 minute flight.  Having told the pilot we also flew, he took us really close to the ridges and peaks and dropped us over and down a few mountain cliffs.  We loved it.  Then we stopped on a ridge looking up at the popular postcard view of the “amphitheater” for a mimosa and photos.  Wow! 

Back at the hotel, we thanked everyone for a wonderful 4-day stay and began our drive to Fugitive’s Drift.  We drove south through an upscale neighborhood called the “Midland Meander”, skirted around Pietermeritzberg and headed north-east through Greytown and Pomeroy before turning off the tar roads onto gravel for the last 45 km to our next lodge.  We had a 6pm deadline to get to the place before the gates were locked and Mark was driving pretty fast for the road conditions.  It was here at Elandskraal, about 14 km from our destination, that the right rear tire blew.  Fortunately, it was not quite dark and the roadway was level.  Mark managed to change the tire in under 15 minutes and we made the gate at 5:45pm.  Our accommodations were very nice and we welcomed the upgrade.  We were in our own cottage with a large bedroom and sitting area, a huge bathroom and a private patio looking into the near garden with the bush beyond.  Shortly after our arrival, we were summoned to the outdoor fire pit for cocktails followed by dinner.  There were two large tables and about 20 people present.  The food was plentiful and good.  Our table mates included 7 men from Wales who were taking a break from the SA vs. British Rugby tournament and learning about their ancestors who had fought with the British during the Zulu battles.  We had several good laughs with them and learned the British Lions have already lost 2 of the 3 games to the SA Springboks.  No one minds.   They will go to the next game and root for their team regardless.  Later we learned that the Lion’s won the final game, which must have made the Welsh fellows proud.  After dinner the group received instruction about the coming day–up at 6am, breakfast at 6:30 and out the door at 7 for the battlefields where we would hear the stories.  Next morning we piled into a big vehicle, were handed hot water bottles and told to be quiet and listen to a CD about the build up to the battles we will witness. We listened to the CD’s the whole 45 minutes it took too reach the first battlefield and felt primed for the personal tale to come.

We are in the heart of Zulu country and the battle ground for much of the fighting between Zulu and British; Zulu and Boer and British and Boer during the 1800’s.  We visited two battlefields called Isandlwana and Rorke’s Drift and relived the events with the fabulous storytellers keeping us spellbound for 2+ hours at each site.  In the first conflict 20,000 Zulu on foot with spears and clubs crushed the 1600 well armed and partly mounted British and 2500 Africans in less than 2 hours.  In the second conflict 140 British held out against 3-4000 Zulu for 10 hours during a moonless night.  Only 17 British died while 5-600 Zulus were killed by British fire power.  The surviving Zulus picked up what dead warriors they could and walked away just before dawn.  Eleven Victoria Crosses, the most given in any conflict in British history, were given to British soldiers for valor in that conflict.  Both battles took place on January 22, 1879 within a few miles of each other.  It is no surprise that the Zulu remember the Isandlwana battle and the British remember Rorke’s Drift.  Both storytellers were very careful to be unbiased.  I think we know more about the Zulu-British War now than we do about WWI.    

Beyond all the fighting, the landscape is vast–mile after mile of rolling grass land interrupted by thousands of acres of planted pine tree forests.  The trees are planted so regularly that they look like fruit orchards in our California valleys.  We learned that they grow rapidly for 20-30 years and are then harvested for paper, pulp, poles and lumber, after which nursery saplings are planted in between the stumps.  We saw forests of every age and diameters of 2 to 10 inches.   As it is winter, the grass lands are dry, golden stubble.  The main roads are paved and mostly in good repair.  Other roads are full of pot holes or gravel.   Leaving Fugitive’s Drift Mark drove more slowly as we had no spare tire.  After several miles of gravel and then many more of pot-holed tar roads, we took a short detour to the Richard’s Bay Airport Budget office for a new tire.  

From Fugitive’s Drift we drove south through Richard’s Bay on July 4th (we thought about home and parades and fireworks and realized that, for the rest of the world, it is just another day) to Phinda, a private game reserve, where we spent 4 days and nights in the bush enjoying more wild animal and bird sightings and luxuriating in the exquisitely thoughtful and creative service provided by the staff at Phinda Rock Lodge.  A couple examples of the service include; hot towels and spiced chocolate at the end of each game drive,  a first rate dinner served in the bush with many lanterns creating a magical effect under a full moon and a surprise candlelit bubble bath waiting for us in our room after a long day in the bush.   We saw a number of the same animals and birds as we had in Tanzania with some notable exceptions.  On our first drive the afternoon we arrived at Phinda we spotted 4 cheetah–a mother and 3 10-month old cubs–and watched them until dark.  On two other occasions we saw 2 male cheetah on the hunt and again we had to turn away as it became too dark to see them.  We also saw many nyala–antelope with interesting white markings that make them look similar to a kudu, red duiker–one of the smallest and shyest antelope, blue vervet monkeys and a few new birds.  One of the benefits of being in private game reserves in South Africa is that night drives and off road driving are permitted as long as the animals are not approached too closely.  Thus we were able to follow the cheetah off road until it was too dark to see them.  Six elephants came very near our vehicle after dusk while feeding on trees and we watched giraffe necking in the moonlight.  Magical, memorable moments!

One day, while at Phinda, I went scuba diving at Sadwana Bay on the Indian Ocean.  It was a 1 ½ hour drive to the Bay.  Mark stayed behind to watch land animals, so one of the Phinda staff came with me to be my dive buddy.  Young enough to be my grandson (ouch), Matt was thrilled to have the chance to dive and very thoughtful about watching after me.  We made 2 dives and had our own Phinda packed lunch on the beach in between.   The dives were fantastic.  The visibility was only 30 or so feet, but we saw 7 extremely large sting rays, 2 huge potato bass (one as big as I am), a very large octopus, 3 moray eels, several nudibrancs, a rare paper fish with a large dorsal fin as thin as paper, schools of various sized fish moving slowly with the current and many reef fishes in rainbow colors.  Hard and soft corals were in abundances.  I was told that the St Lucia Marine Sanctuary, where we were, is the only known marine environment in the world where there is a net increase in coral growth and thus has been declared a World Heritage Site.   At the Phinda manager’s suggestion, Mark flew to Sodwana Bay in the Lodge’s plane and picked Matt and me up so we would get back to the Lodge quicker.  While enroute we flew down the coast to St Lucia Lake, then over the lake and around the countryside and game park to the airstrip near camp.  A perfect end to another perfect day. 

Yesterday we went for a morning boat ride to watch birds and have a relaxed final experience at Phinda.  Our guide, Andy, was with us for all our bush experiences and she made them all interesting, informative and fun.  We truly hated to leave, so she gently pushed us into our car and sent us off with a packet of snacks for the onward journey.  We really loved every bit of the pampering we received.

On July 8 we drove north to Swaziland.  Getting through the border crossing took about 40 minutes and then we had a pleasant drive into the heart of the country where our current hotel is situated.  The scenery changed slowly as we climb into the mountain country.  The rolling hills gave way to rocky bluffs and scrub, which gave way to bouldered peaks towering above green valleys with clear running rivers.  Expecting to see more poverty than in SA, we found better houses, more electricity and increased prosperity–at least here in the heart of the country.  Last night we checked into the Royal Villas, a nice place, but without the Phinda service.  We had dinner at the hotel and went to bed.  Today we drove around the area, shopped at several craft and art shops and visited the cultural center, where we saw traditional Swazi housing and dancing and heard about Swazi life as it was until 40 years ago.   While at breakfast we met 3 US military people who are here planning a medical clinic for the rural people all over Swaziland.  It will last 14 days and include the services of 24 professional medical people.  The population of Swaziland is about 1 million and decreasing due to Aids related deaths and fewer births.   Roughly 40% of the adult population has Aids or 27% of the total.  Swaziland has the highest percentage of Aids infected people in the world.  Huge numbers of children are orphaned because of the high death rate from Aids complications.  Meanwhile, the king, Mswatti III, has 14 wives and refuses to draw attention to the problem.  His father had 70 wives and 600 children.  King Mswatti is only 40 years old and could take many more wives before he goes.  The situation is very sad and frustrating.  According to the traditional culture we learned this afternoon, a king must be an only child of his mother and never been married.  So the king must continue to marry until he has a wife who bears only one child, a boy who has not married by the time the old king dies. 

The probability is that his earlier wives will bear many children, while a wife taken during his old age may have the one who will become the next king.  That mother of that single son becomes the Queen Mother and regent for her son, if he is under 18, until he reaches his majority.  Imagine how small the blood lines are when so many people are children or cousins of one king or another.

Anyway, tomorrow we plan to drive and hike around more of the country and meet some local people.  

To catch you up on what happened to us after our encounter with the wild dogs in the Selous and before getting to Cathedral Peaks, let me just say that we saw lots more animals, especially giraffe, zebra and impala, we visited a ranger station where the endangered rhino are the focus of attention and learned there are only 17 rhino in The Selous where there used to be many hundreds, we took one afternoon off and sat and read by the swimming pool overlooking the river filled with hippo and crocodile and we spent a quiet couple of hours in a tree blind overlooking a green marsh with many water lilies and birds.  For our last evening at Sand Rivers, the staff provided a group sundowner on a hilltop with a lovely sunset vista.  Unfortunately, one of our group members became very sick on the spot.  Then a couple of others didn’t feel so well.  By the time dinner rolled around several had fallen and only 8 of the total 17 in the group finished the meal.  Fortunately, Mark and I were 2 of the 8.  By the next morning when we departed for Zanzibar, all but 2 were feeling better, if not perfect.  The 2 really sick people made it to the plane and to the hotel in Zanzibar with help and were down for another 24 hours.   

I am really tired after so much writing and staying up late–Mark is sawing logs already–so our three days in Zanzibar will have to wait.   However, I am almost caught up to real time.  Hope I get more writing time before we fly to Madagascar on the 12th.

Blessings to you all, Julia and Mark

July 12, 2009

South African Airways enrooted from Johannesburg to Antananarivo, Madagascar

Hello again,

In the last letter I promised to write about Zanzibar.  We arrived there mid-day on June 25, 2009 with 14 of us remaining from the Stanford group.   The airport was old, unpleasant and somewhat infested with mosquitoes.  For once, I was not bitten, but Mark and others in the group were.  It was one of those few times when we are glad we are taking malaria pills. 

Zanzibar is part of Tanzania, but it has its own government, its own president and it functions fairly autonomously.  The main city, really a medium sized town, is Stonestown, which is named for the many stone buildings made from coral during the 17th and 18th centuries.  The buildings are nearly all a dirty white color and have touches of Portuguese and Arab architecture.  Many streets are too narrow for cars, making the more pleasant walking.  The island is most famous for its spice and slave trades.  Stonestown had one of the biggest slave trading ports in Africa that came to a reluctant end when the British forced the issue with pressure from David Livingston, who had seen its effects on the people and hated the practice.  

We took a walking tour of the local markets and smelled many fresh spices.  Would have purchased some, but did not want to have them in our bags for the rest of the trip.  Vanilla beans were about $3 for a package of ten.  Last time I wanted to buy one bean at home it was $21.   Maybe I will find some in Madagascar.   Down one of the walking streets I found a Zanzibar flag for our collection.   Wonder if we will ever put up all the flags we have collected.  Need to find a place.   We also saw several slave sites including the cramped spaces in which they were kept until sold and the market place where they were auctioned off.  That spot is now the site of the alter in the local Anglican church, which also contained beautiful, tall and slender stained glass windows. 

After the tour we were bussed to our hotel.  It took an hour and a half to negotiate the terrible roads to the northerly end of the island, Stonestown being about in the middle.  The roadside activities were interesting for awhile–people and animals walking wherever they wanted, business stores and shacks all along the roadside, grain and corn drying on roadside mats, green trees, shrubs, grasses and some flowers near and beyond the road all wild and unkempt.  However, after awhile we just wanted to get to our rooms and have some lunch.  Finally we arrived at Matemwe Lodge.  Our bags were already in our cottage, which was only 30 feet from the edge of the bluff against which the Indian Ocean waves were crashing.  There are only 12 cottages at the lodge and our group used 7 of them, all on the bluff edge.  The weather was warm, the bugs were few, the beach was white powdery sand, our private space had a patio with comfortable seating and a hammock.  We did not want to leave the place.  After lunch, we lounged by the pool and on our patio.  The whole group took the next day off and did nothing but read, swim and walk on the beach.  The ocean water was very warm, but full of seaweed.  Swimming was more pleasant in the pool.  The next day Mark did more of nothing, while I went scuba diving with two other people in our group.  The dive shack, where we were outfitted, was only 10 minutes away, but we had another awful drive further north to a beach where the large motorized raft waited for us.  The tide was low and the only place to get beyond the reef, which surrounded that side of the island, was through a single opening.  Once beyond the reef we were shortly at our first dive sight.  The water was reasonable clear and the drift dive at 60 feet amid coral heads was delightful.  Lots of colorful reef fish.  We also saw nudibrancs, moray eels, 2 different kinds of lion fish, octopus, stonefish, soft and hard corals and sponges.  Our first dive was to 60 feet and our second one was to just 25 feet and was not as good as the water was murky and there was a fair amount of dead coral.  Our guide told us later that his ears were hurting him and he did not want to take us deeper.  Oh well, it was fun just being able to dive again.  On the way back the tide was higher and we were able to cross the reef near the dive shack.   The three of us got back to our lodge just in time to join the rest of our group for a sunset sail inside the reef on a dhow-a wooden boat with a single wooden mast and triangular sail.  Mark calls it “a rickety ass homemade boat”.  We had a lot of laughs along with our sundowners and snacks.  That evening we shared our last meal with the group.  The table was beautifully set outdoors in the sand.  We had just sat down and were watching video photos of our trip, when the sky opened suddenly and we were deluged with rain.  We grabbed what was not rain proof and ran for cover in the bar.  Not long later the table was re set in the dining room and we commenced our meal, no worse for wear.   At 10pm Mark and I said good bye and went to bed.  We were awakened at 2:30am for a 3pm departure to the airport for our 6:10am departure to Nairobi.  Fortunately this is the only awful departure time in our itinerary.  We had only an hour in Nairobi before our flight to Johannesburg.

I think that catches you up to just a couple of days ago.  We were in Swaziland where we had two days to explore the country, which can be driven around in only one day and is the smallest country in Africa.  The first day we meandered around the local craft and art shops and bought way more stuff than we intended–much of it heavy and bulky.   We also visited a Cultural Center where we toured a traditional village and saw traditional Swazi dancing.  We also did a short hike to a waterfall.  The next day we drove around part of the country and did another hike to some San, bushmen, paintings that are about 4000 years old.  We had a long visit with the volunteer, Nellie Dmlini, who took us to the paintings.  She shared her personal story and dream of becoming a nurse.  He spoke excellent English and answered all our questions forthrightly.  We were much impressed and plan to stay in contact with her via email and may try to help her at some point.  Who knows.  Aside from meeting Nellie, our drive about was rather uninteresting and we finally returned to the hotel to pack up our new acquisitions, have dinner and go to bed.

The next day, July 11, we drove to the border post at Oshoek, spent 40 minutes leaving Swaziland and entering South Africa and then sped our way along excellent roads to Johannesburg.  We stopped at a small town called Carolina and bought oranges and biltong (African version of jerky) and ate along the road side under a tree.  We arrived at the Johannesburg airport and the Budget car rental return with no mistakes, were collected by the driver for the Witwater Guest House, which is near the airport, and soon were welcomed by the staff at the entrance.   What a place.   Totally top of the line in every way except that the place is not quite finished and we are one of the 2-3 guests who have stayed so far.   We were given the “presidential suite as there were no other guests and it was available.  The HVAC system was not finished, the TV and computer hookup were not available, the landscaping was incomplete and there were not many staff on duty including the manager.  The owner’s son catered to our every wish including setting up a Far-Infrared heat treatment for us to warm up, driving us to a nice restaurant for dinner, Jose’s, and picking us up afterwards.  He gave us hot tea before bed and a wakeup call in time to have breakfast and depart at 7am for our flight to Madagascar.   We certainly could have stayed there longer.

Evening of July 12, 2009

Relais des Plateaux, Antananarivo, Madagascar

We arrived in Madagascar at 1:40pm, spent an hour clearing immigration and visa control and finally met our new guide, a Malagasey named VY, and driver, named Atienne.  In about 15 minutes we were at our hotel, the Ralais des Plateaux.  It is very basic, just the opposite of the previous night’s accommodation, but clean and with a good bed.   We check in, put our valuables in the safe, plug in the computer to recharge and head out to do some sightseeing with Vy and Atienne. 

Although it is Sunday the streets are crowded and traffic moves slowly through the streets, which have buildings crowding right up to the roadway in some places.  The architecture is very interesting and varied with many of the building 2 and 3 stories tall and most colorfully painted.  Very different from South African buildings.   Lots of churches as the population is 65% Christian.   About 25% are animist and 8% are Muslim.    For an hour we drive through this suburban area while Vy tells us about the history and politics of the country.   By the time we get to the Queen’s Summer Palace we have learned about the centuries of tribal rule and the period called the Kingdom years from 1787 to 1895, at which time the French invaded and colonized the country.  The French stayed until independence in 1960.  At that time the country was doing well economically, but began to deteriorate under years of corrupt elected officials.  Now the place is in very bad circumstance as the former elected President was ousted in April by a military coup for closing down a TV station that spoke out against the government.  Since then a new government has taken over under the leadership of the man who had owned the TV station.  Hmmm.  The problem is that he is not an elected person and other countries refuse to recognize his government.  Meanwhile, the ousted President sits in Swaziland at the Royal Villas, two doors down from our villa, trying to get the EU to help him regain power.  Vy does not think that will happen and that new elections may be held in December.   Meanwhile, the economy suffers and tourism has all but dried up, even though there are no problems for us tourists.

Back to the Queen’s Summer Palace.  It is a very quaint collection of Malagasey and French architecture that clearly defines the people who used them.  The original building was a 3 stories tall square structure with only a dirt floor that the first king lived in with one of his 12 wives, depending on his mood.  The other structures were built in the French style by the widow of the first king’s son, who ruled from 1810 to 1828.  She ruled with an iron fist for 33 years, eliminating any threats to her power.  Following her reign, the succeeding monarchs were weak and ineffective.  The French shipped the last queen off to Angola after they invaded and took control.

After our history lesson, we drove even slower back to the hotel as the roads were totally clogged.  Dinner at the hotel and now it is bed time.  Unfortunately, I feel a cold coming on so am doctoring up as best I can.

At last I am caught up.  Hopefully I will not fall behind and we will have more opportunities to send messages.

God bless you all, Julia and Mark

July 13, 2009  Antananarivo Domestic Airport

We are waiting for our flight to Maroantsetra, a town in the north-east of the country and our access to the rain forest. 

Here are some facts we have learned so far.  Madagascar is the 4th largest island in the world.  It has a population of 20 million, with 20% living in the urban center and 80% living in the country doing farming.  The land mass is slightly smaller than Texas with a length of 1000 miles and a width of 400 miles.  South Africa on the other hand is nearly twice the size of Texas.  The population here is very young–40% are under 15 years of age–while the growth is 3% per annum.  Malaria is a major health problem with 5-6 malaria deaths every day.  AIDs exists but is not nearly as bad as in African countries.

Swaziland is the smallest country in Africa and has a population of about 2 million.  Sadly 40% of the adult population has Aids and the life span is currently 35 and is expected to be only 32 in a few years.  Thousands of children are orphans living with other relatives or in orphanages.  It has the highest %age of Aids in the world with South Africa in second place.   Numbers are misleading, however.  Many people in the urban areas live in relatively nice houses and dress well.  They own and operate upscale tourist shops and eat in nice restaurants. 

Although Madagascar is listed as one of the poorest countries in the world, our eyes already see a different story.  There are many cars on the road and people look well fed and reasonably dressed–here in the capital at least.  Although the annual income is listed by the UNDP at $200 per person, many rural people do not even use money, but live on the barter system and urban dwellers must be making more.  I think this must be true of many poor countries we have visited.  Our guide and his wife both work and live in a rented house with 2 bedrooms/1 bath for $180 per month.  That clearly blows the $200/annum theory as Vy, pronounced “V”, is an ordinary urban citizen and not a member of the wealthy or ellite.  They saved for 5 years so they could buy a car with cash and he saved for 10 years before that to buy a motor bike.  Apparently borrowing from the bank costs up to 3 times the cost of the item–once for the item, once for interest on the loan and once again for the bribe to the loan officer.  No wonder they saved their money to pay cash.  The same problem exists for buying a house.  Vy is 34 and his wife, who has a law degree and works in a  bank, is 28.  They have no children so far as they are both working to save money to someday build a house.  He tells us they are unusual in this regard as most of their friends already have 2 children per couple. 

We arrived at Maroantsetra and were driven to our lodging, the Relais du Masoala.  We have one of 15 elevated and very pleasant bungalows on the sand near the beach, but are the only guests.  Even though this is the high season, tourists are staying away, unfortunately.  Our guides are very frustrated about the political situation and see no resolution until there is an official election with an official winner.  They are hoping for an election to be set in December.  The elected president, Marc Ravalomanana, was ousted by a coup in February.  The coup winner, Andry Rajoelina, was assisted by some of the military and has set up an illegal government, which most people do not accept.  Apparently he was the outspoken Mayor of Tana and owner of a local TV station.  Due to the bad press he gave the president about a variety of complaints–high cost of living with no solutions offered, monopolization of most big businesses and his pro American relations that pissed off the French who were backing the Mayor–the president closed the TV station, which precipitated the coup.   People were glad that he had opposed the president in the press, but not pleased with his heavy handed ousting or the man.  Everyone wants to see an election and choose who their president will be.   The UN and the EU have since refused to honor grant funding of E400 million until elections are held.  Consequently, the illegal president has said he will set elections for December, but so far he has done nothing.  Vy is not hopeful for elections any time soon.  

During the afternoon, we took a very relaxed boat ride on the local river, Anjahanambo (tall Mangroves), passing a village, many papyrus plants and rice fields being carved out of the river bed.  The Malagasy grow a very high quality of rice which is exported to Europe.  Meanwhile, they import cheap rice from China to feed themselves so they have a net economic gain.  There is so much rain in this part of the country that the yield is 4 crops per year.  There are 2 seasons– the rainy season and the season in which it rains.  We are here in the latter season and have experienced only a couple of sprinkles so far.   The biggest excitement of our boat ride was the spotting of an 18 inch long Punter Chameleon.  It has 4 pigment colors and changed from green to reddish while we were with it.  We moved in very close and Vy picked it up and handed it to me.  I was thrilled to be able to see it up close, touch its skill–scaly but not prickly–count its toes–5 with three opposing the other two and have it walk down my arm and hang onto my finger.  Mark was not so thrilled as it wanted to crawl down his back, but he took lots of photos. 

We had an early dinner and I went to bed.  I am really feeling lousy.

July 14,2009  Bastille Day in Maroantsetra

This morning I was still feeling awful, but I mustered as I didn’t want to miss the day’s activities.  At 7:30am we were on a motor boat traveling as fast as possible through the Ocean to get to the largest national park in the country, Masoala, which takes up a whole peninsula but is nearly inaccessible by road.  We hit the beach after 1 ½ hours of beating against the incoming waves.  Our driver did a super job of avoiding the worst bumps.  Midway through the crossing, we spotted a pod of Humpback Whales and stopped to watch them breaching.  Two of them came very close to our boat.  We were not even to the island and already I was glad I came.  In addition to us, our head guide, Vy, and Claudio, the local guide Vy has selected to accompany us, there were 2 boat men, who dropped us off at the beach next to the trail head and moved around to a better location for parking the boat and having lunch.  Instantly we were in the rainforest on a well marked trail.  Our guides patiently told and retold us the names of trees as we walk by them, but all I can remember is tree ferns, Ebony trees and Canarium trees, which have stumps that look like cathedral buttresses and are used for making the local boat as it is light and hard and grows fast.  We were very luck as the day was dry and there were very few bugs.  Soon, we encountered our first lemur high in the tree canopy.  It was the Red Ruffed Lemur, which is the second largest of all lemurs and is found only in this forest.  During our hike we spotted a total of 5 of them.  They were not very helpful about giving us good photo ops, but we did our best.  We also saw one of the White Fronted Brown Lemur, which is more common that the Red Ruffed, but even harder to photograph. 

Our bird sightings were also special.  We saw the Scaly Ground Roller, which is very rare and hardly ever seen.  It was on the ground holding very still in hopes we did not see it.  Even so there was too much foliage to get a decent photo.  Claudio told us hundreds of birdwatchers come to this park just to see this bird and leave without success.  Another bird that held perfectly still on a nearby limb was the Pygmy Kingfisher, a small brick red colored bird.  We got several photos of it.  Less easy to photograph but equally interesting to see were the Blue Coua and the Crested, Fork-tailed Drongo.

We were in the forest for 3 ½ hours and loved every minute of it.  Back on the beach we walked to where our boat was anchored and enjoyed a chicken and pasta salad lunch prepared by our hotel and served on the beach by the boat men.  After lingering as long as possible we headed for home.  This time we were moving with the sea and had a smooth, fast trip back. 

Having docked next to the town, we decided to walk the main street, find some vitamin C and hang out with the locals.  The roads are all hard packed sand with the stores built very simply of wood and corrugated metal standing next to each other and at the edge of the street on both sides.  The configuration made for convenient shopping and visiting and most people were very sociable.  As Madagascar was French Colony from 1895 to 1960, the common language, besides Malagasy, is French.  Today being Bastille Day, several people were out and about all dressed up.  We stopped at a dress shop where the proprietor was Chinese-Malagasy and quite friendly.   We also saw a few Indians walking about.  They are mostly in trade and are third generation.  Quite a mixture for such a small town in rural Madagascar.   After an hour, however, I was really feeling the effects of the cold.  Back at our bungalow we cleaned up and relaxed on our veranda until dinner.  The hotel owner made me a cup of ginger root tea for my chest congestion.  It was really bitter, but drinkable with a lot of honey.  We found some decongestants in our medical kit and between them, the ginger drink, vitamin C, IBU and my 12 hour nose spray, I think will improve– especially with a good night’s sleep.

July 15, 2009    Relais du Masoala, Maroantsetra

Today I felt a little better and we were out again on the water headed for an island called Nosy Mangabe, only 20 minutes away.  The whole island was designated a preserve in 1987 to keep the locals from cutting down the trees and wiping out the habitat.  So far so good.  I am sure the caretaker/guard makes a difference too.  Interestingly, nothing can be taken from a preserve, but a person can take all the medicinal plant material they need from a National Park. 

We pulled into a lovely little cove that was set up for overnight camping.  We had been given the option to stay here and try and find the nocturnal Aye-Aye.  Had I felt better and had Mark been willing to live with only a cold shower we probably would have camped.  The place was really charming.  Having made the decision ahead of time, however, we plunged into the forest for our planned day hike and walked slowly to the top of the island, over 1000 feet, looking for the Black and White Ruffed Lemur, which completely eluded us even though we heard its call many times.  We did see a male and female Paradise Fly Catcher and another Pygmy Kingfisher.  Mostly the walk was about small things close to the ground–several Brookesia Chameleon (which are the smallest in the world), crabs, lizards, 1 large millipede, 3 hard shelled centipedes, several interesting frogs, mushrooms and conchs.  After 4 hours of walking, we finally spotted two White-Fronted Brown Lemurs high in the trees and totally un-photographable.  Not far from the camp and our lunch sight, Claudio found the very hard to spot, Leaf Tailed Gecko.  It was hard to make it out even when he told us where it was, about 8 feet high on a similarly gray tree trunk facing down.  Once we saw it we were really impressed and took lots of photos, hoping at least one will be good.  Claudio proceeded to find us two more gecko’s.  At the last one, only 5 feet off the ground I was able to get in really close.  When I was told it was ok to touch the creature, I rubbed its back and it went into a totally threatening and angry stance which it held for as long as I took photos and we walked away.  In the process, it changed color from gray to green, flipped up its leaf like tail and opened its crocodile shaped mouth to reveal a blood red tongue.  I would have been afraid except that Vy said not to worry.  Its major predator is the Blue Coua and I suspect it would have looked pretty formidable and much bigger that a mouthful to that foe. 

Our walk took 5 hours and we were really glad to see camp.   The air inside the forest today was hot and steamy and we were sweating like crazy.  Yesterday’s hike had been cool and breezy by comparison.  The humidity seemed to be good on my lungs, however, so I had no complaints.  Lunch today was boiled prawns, couscous salad and fresh pineapple.  We are certainly eating well.  While we ate, two local pests, male and female White-Fronted Brown Lemurs, challenged us constantly to get at our food, but we prevailed and got some photos as well.  Not exactly wild shots, but better than nothing.  Again, as yesterday we had the whole island to ourselves.

Back at the hotel, we were very happy to have hot showers and relax on our veranda, even when there was a light sprinkle.  We have been very blessed on this entire trip regarding weather.  We have enjoyed sunny skies, mild temperatures and light breezes most days in Tanzania, South Africa, Swaziland and now Madagascar.  We have not yet had more than a light shower anywhere and most of the showers have occurred at night.  Sure hope our luck holds.

Unfortunately, Mark and Vy are starting to come down with my cold.  Claudio has been spared, but today was his last day with us as we fly tomorrow back to Tana for one night, before flying to our next destination.  Traveling within Madagascar is much like our experience in Bali during our honeymoon.  Every time we wanted to go to another destination off the island, we had to overnight in Denpassar.  Same day connections never worked there either.

July 16, 2009  Maroantsetra Airport

We sit waiting for our flight back to Tana for another overnight before our onward journey to Perrinet. 

Mark and Vy are now coughing like I was a few days ago.  Meanwhile, I am feeling better but still have a lot of congestion and an achy back from all the hacking.   They both rested this morning while I took a long walk on the beach photographing people and watching the fishermen pull in their long lines.  I have rarely seen people work so hard for so little return.  After spending more than an hour pulling in about 1000 meters of line with hundreds of feet of net attached, the family would scrape through the grass, debree and muck to find a small bowl full of fish and prawns from 1-5 inches in length.  Not even enough to feed themselves one meal.  I felt so sad for one family whose line snapped half way through hauling in the line that, when they recovered and started again, I lent a hand.  They were clearly exhausted by the ordeal.  I grew tired after about 15 minutes.

Staying at our hotel were a couple of women from Berkeley, who have friends living in Grass Valley.  They are some of the very few Americans we have seen on this whole trip.   They are a mother and daughter here for 2 weeks, because this is “one of the few places in the world we had not yet been”.  I mentioned a couple of out there places and they had already been to them.   They must be more traveled than we. 

July 17, 2009      Vakona Forest Lodge, Andasibe (Perinett), East-Central Madagascar

Salaam,

Much of yesterday was uninteresting due to a late flight back to Tana, just to reposition for a drive to Andasibe this morning, but we rested on the flight, ate dinner early and were in bed by 8:30pm.  Mark woke up at 3am freezing and wrapped himself around me to get warm.  I understood as I had had that same thing happen to me a few nights earlier.  As there were no extra blankets in the room I covered him in our bath towels and tried to warm him up.  Eventually he went to sleep, but by then I was too hot so did not get back to sleep myself.  Anyway, we had a 5:45 wake up.  Having started early to sleep, we did not feel too tired.  Today was Mark’s and Vy’s day to feel perfectly awful.  It was primarily a 5 hour road trip with lots of photo stops along the very scenic route east through the city of Tana and its suburbs to the rural countryside with many fields of rice, vegetables and fallow ground waiting for winter to pass.  The early morning light made the landscape and the traditional houses of two-story mud brick look like paintings by the Dutch masters of the 16th century. 

Mid-morning we reached the Mandraka Reptile farm that Vy wanted us to visit.  It sounded rather hokey to us, but we went along and were really glad we did.  We were allowed to hold and photograph every creature we saw and lingered long over the stick insects, dozens of different sizes and species of Chameleon (for some reason I am really taken by them), several leaf-tailed geckos of two varieties (Europlatus Fimbriatus and Europlatus Fantasticus), a charming Tomato Frog, who really was the color and wetness of the inside of a tomato and a medium sized boa, which we elected not to handle.  The species of the chameleon included: The common Punter (male and female), Parson’s (which doesn’t not change from green), male and female Globifer (very colorful), Nazitus and Pygmy (which lives only on the ground).  Sorry to bother you with so much detail, but I want to remember the names to put them with the photos.   Of more interest is that all chameleons live in trees, except the Brookesia species.  The average life span is 8 years.  They lay their eggs in the ground and it takes 18 months for the eggs to hatch.  Many males have one or two hornes, while the females have none.  They have feet shaped like pliers and a prehensile tail that allows them to grasp a branch effortlessly.  Their eyes are shaped like gun-turrets which can swivel 180 degrees independently of each other.   They have a slow measured back and forth step, that more or less  resembles a leaf in the wind.  Color changing is an autonomic reaction to a range of stimuli.  Chameleons have a transparent epidermis, then 3 layers of cells–the top ones are yellow and red, the middle laayer reflects blue and white light and the bottom layer consists of black pigment cells with tentacles that can protrude up through the other layers.  Change occurs when one layer is more stimulated than others and patterning when one group of cells receives maximum stimulation.  

Down the road, we stopped in one small town for tissue and water and another, Moramanga, for lunch and a walk around the streets.  We were surprised to see barefoot men pulling rickshaws carrying people and supplies around.  Clearly no tourist attraction as we were the only “vazaha” (white foreigners) around.  Fortunately for the men, the town was flat, although most of the roads were dirt or mud depending on how wet they were.  Apparently, the French brought in Chinese people as skilled labor in 1900 to build a system of locks and channels to connect a number of lakes for a 600 kilometers waterway, called the Pangalanes Channel, on the East coast.  The Chinese stayed and today there are still 4 towns that provide rickshaw service.

Shortly after lunch we arrived at our destination, Andasibe Special Reserve.   The guide book says this Reserve is composed of moist montane forest (930-1049m) and is rich in fauna and flora including a higher number of frog species than any comparable rainforest on earth“.  We started by walking through the orchid garden and spotting a few birds and one chameleon.  As it is winter we saw only one flowering orchid.  Then we drove on toward our hotel as it was park closing time and we plan to return in the morning.  Our hotel has a mini-park of its own that is home to 6 species of lemur.  The hotel management created an island with no way to get off unless a creature flies or swims.  Lemurs apparently hate water and don’t swim so they stay put on the island and are fed a kilo of bananas each every day.  Most are not friendly with people, but a few were very habituated and climbed all over us to get a chance for a piece of banana.  It was fun for awhile, but soon grew old as a couple of them continued to jump on my head and back.  Once the feeding part was done, we climbed into a canoe and were rowed around the good sized large island enjoying the habitat and the lemurs at a comfortable distance.  The 6 kinds of lemurs we saw included:  Common Brown (jumped all over us like a pest), White-fronted Brown (friendly, but less of a pest), Diademed Sifaka (danced on hind legs for food), Bamboo ( a cute small lemur), Black and White Ruffed (hung upside down while eating his banana) and Ring-tailed (has a long, bushy, ringed tail).

At last we checked into the hotel, rested a bit in our small, but adequate, room, had our habitual (since we have been in Madagascar) JW Black neat, ate another so-so meal while talking philosophy and politics with Vy and then retired to bed.   Vy had me try local Madagascar food this evening–consists of rice on one side of the plate and a beef or chicken stew made with bitter mustard greens and some juice on the other.   Now that I have tried it, I can go back to eating the so-so food that is, at least, recognizable. It is 9:15pm and Mark is out, this time with plenty of blankets on him, and I am about to do the same as we have another 5:45am wake up call in the morning.   

July 18, 2009  On the road from Andasibe back to Tana

We started walking into the fog and mist shrouded rain forest of Andasibe at 7:30am.  Our forest guide is a very experienced Malagasy named Patrice.  We walked silently over the leaf strewn ground for more than half an hour before Patrice left us in search of the world’s largest lemur, the Indri Indri.  We waited quite awhile and then we heard the unmistakable sound of the Indri Indri singing.  Patrice came back breathlessly to get us to follow him quickly in the opposite direction from the sound.  Apparently we heard a distant group singing (their voices carry 3 kilometers) and he wanted us to be with another group he had spotted before they gave the expected singing reply.  We just made it to a group of 4 lemurs as they started to sing.  What an incredible sound.  I was able to capture it on the video, although we were unable to get even one reasonable photo.  There was so much mist and they were very high in the tree canopy.  We stayed with them as long as we could.  But as we have a 5 hour drive back to the airport at Tana for our 4pm flight to Tulear on the south-west coast, we had to walk out of the forest without lingering.  We did manage to get a very good look at a Blue Coua, one frog and 2 Brown lemurs high in a tree near the entrance.

Now we are in the car and so far I am not carsick, but I think it is time to stop as the road is getting very curvy.

Later at the airport.  So far I have not shared much about our logistical experiences.  Air Madagascar is proving to be more than a little frustration.  First our flight ftom Tana to Maroantsetra was delayed by enough hours to keep us in Tana an extra night and shorten our visit to Andasibe.  Now our flight from Tana to Tulear has been delayed twice. If it had gone as planned we would be in Tulear and on the road to Isalo for a 3 night visit.  The flight was delayed until 4pm so we spent more time in the forest this morning, a good thing as we got to hear the Indri Indri sing, but will have to spend the night in Tulear as it will be too dark to drive to Isalo and force us to stay one night in Tulear, a not so good thing.  Then, as we entered Tana and headed for the airport, Vy received a call that the flight has been further delayed and now we are to depart Tana at 7pm.  So we have gone into plan C and have been having a tour of the city center.  Went to the top of the highest hill in the city, not unlike San Francisco, to see the view–quite nice–and look at the Queen’s Palace, the Prime Minister’s home and office and the ousted president’s home.  Now we are sitting in the nearby and centrally located Hotel Colbert, where Mark is on line while I type away.  Will try to get this off when he is finished.  We sure hope the flight is not delayed again.  As Air Madagascar has a monopoly in this country, there is nothing to do but……practice patience.  J

July 19, 2009  Le Jardin du Roy, near Isolo National Park, south-central Madagascar

So much for sending a message from Tana.  No internet available.   Enroute to the airport we stopped at a hand-made-paper-with-pressed-flowers plant to watch the process and maybe buy a couple of cards.  Ha!  Forty-five minutes later, we departed with a large bag full of handmade notes.  I’d have bought a lot more if we had room.   Really beautiful work.

While waiting for our 7pm departure, Vy suggests we drive the 3 hours to Isolo after we arrive in Tulear rather than staying there overnight and then driving early in the morning.  He sells us with the thought of 3 nights in a really nice place, a fast 3 hour drive night drive rather than a slow 4+ hour drive in the morning and the promise to sleep in in the morning.  As sick as Mark was, he opted for the “get- there and-get-it-over-with” option.  The road was mostly straight and all paved, but pretty bumpy so sleep was possible, but the time passed and we dove into bed at midnight. 

When we looked out the window this morning we found ourselves in a lovely new stone bungalow complex called Le Jardin du Roy.  In the night we had driven from the coast up into high desert, with the changed landscape a bit like the 4 corners area in the states.  Unlike the rain forest, which doesn’t exist in the states, this dry desert is more like many scenes we have near home.

The local guide Vy arranged for us for our time in Isolo National Park, is a 41 year old husband and father of 4, called Tucson.  Very friendly and helpful, he led us on a 4k hike up through dry grass and rice fields into a canyon in the park called “Canyon des Makis” (maki being the Malagasey word for lemur) for the Verreaux’s Sifika, a lemur that dances bipedally, and for the shady canyon scenery.   He introduced us to a variety of endemic plants including the Pandanus tree, which looks like a palm bush when young and is medium height and multi-branched with as many small palms when old and the fire resistant Tapia tree that has an edible fruit and leaves that are the only source of food for an endemic silk worm, who’s cocoons are used by local women to make shawls and burial shrouds.  I admired the native aloe plant called Aloe Isaloensis and a fairly small, soft and lacy Carrot Fern.  My favorite plant is the Pachypodium or Elephant Foot, which is a bulbous rock-clinging plant that only grows in Isolo Park.  It looks like a miniature baobab tree, but is actually a relative of the periwinkle family and sports white, yellow or red flowers that do have a periwinkle appearance.   About 50% of the plants here are endemic and almost as interesting as the lemurs.    Just as we finished our picnic lunch by the creek in the canyon, Tucson told us he was spotting lemurs on the other side.  We jumped up and followed him to where they were feeding on leaves fairly low in the trees.  Finally, we got some reasonable shots of wild lemurs close up, which was a treat.  First we saw a Red-fronted Brown Lemur and then four Verreaux’s Sifaca’s, which were wonderful to watch as they leaped vertically and effortlessly from limb to limb in the trees.  They were nearly all white with just a little black on their heads.  After watching them until they leaped out of sight, we hiked further into the canyon on a trail that was literally carved out of the sides of the boulders in the creek making a very pleasant path.

From the trail head it took 45 minutes to drive out on a very rough dirt road.   We dropped Tucson off in the village near the park and went on to a popular tourist attraction called “the Window” for sunset photos.  The light on the sand stone hills in the vicinity made for some nice images.  There were more tourists gathered at “the window” than we have seen in all of Madagascar until now–most were French or German.  We did not linger, but headed to our hotel for hot showers and a game of dominos with Vy.  He taught us the local domino game, which is played very fast and does not include counting and we taught him our traditional 5 tile game.  He is a very quick study.   Then dinner, pretty good food at this hotel with fresh green salad for the first time in weeks, and bed.  Mark and I agree that this is the best hotel we have experienced in Madagascar so far even though the power goes off at midnight and stays off until 2pm the next day.                

July 20, 2009

Well I am back to feeling normal except for a persistent hack.  Mark is somewhat better, but not very energetic.   Nevertheless, we are out by 8am for a couple of walks in the park.  The first one is to Piscine Naturalle, perhaps the loveliest swimming hole I have ever seen, complete with a small waterfall, Pandanus trees providing shade, nice boulders to sit on and a sandy bottom from 2 to 6 feet deep.  It took us an hour and a half to walk there through some beautiful sandstone crags cut by deep canyons and eroded into weird shapes, forests of Tapia trees and occasional Pachypodium plants, one of which sported yellow blooms.  The water hole was rather crowded so we stayed only about 20 minutes.  The round trip was just as pleasant as we learned about a few more plants and about burial customs of the local Bara tribe (there are 18 tribes in Madagascar and they have mostly gotten along with each other since the French colonial days.   The Bara prefer to bury their dead in temporary, fairly accessible caves initially.  After a few years, the bones are removed from the temporary cave, re-shrouded, placed in another, smaller, wooden box and relocated to an inaccessible cave for permanent burial.  We saw a couple such cave sights.  We also learned that it is bad form, or “fady”, to point at a grave or anything considered sacred or spiritual.  Instead you must bend the pointing finger so only a knuckle guides your gaze.  

Back in the local town of Ranohira, we had a delicious leafy green salad and sandwiches.  Then we drove to the trail head of the next hike, about 15 minutes.  It was to be a long hike, but Mark was only up for a short walk to a camp sight where we were promised more lemurs.  They were there–both the Red-fronted Brown Lemur and the Ring-railed Lemur.  We spent a half hour or so trying to get some good images with only limited success and finally hiked back to the car.  Back in town, we bid Tucson good bye, spent half an hour in the Isola Interpretive Center getting a better idea of everything we had seen and got back to the hotel by 3pm so we could have some down time in the sunshine–precious time for us since we have been in Madagascar.

At 7pm we joined Vy for dinner, preceded by cocktails and a game of dominoes.   Again we prevailed on the staff to provide us with a fresh green salad, which was not on the menu, and we loved it.   It was early again to bed with hope that Mark feels good in the morning.

July 21, 2009

Very relaxed start to the day with breakfast at 8am and departure at 9am.  Although Mark was not back to normal yet, he showed signs of continued improvement.  The plan for the day was to take our time driving back to Tulear, stopping along the way for photos, a visit to the new Sapphire mining area, a picnic lunch along the road and a visit to the Botanical Gardens in Tulear before catching a 6pm flight to Tana.  We did it all with time to spare. 

We stopped for baobab tree photos as these were the first in Madagascar that we have seen.  There are 8 different types of baobab and 6 of them are endemic to Madagascar.  We saw two different species during the drive and a couple more at the botanical gardens.   Everytime we stopped we were mobbed by children who loved nearby so I took photos of them as well.  Vy had told us to expect the children to materialize so we were prepared with biscuits.  The arrangement worked well for everybody.  The rural villages we passed were among the poorest we have seen in Madagascar.  As far as we could see, they grow cassava, make charcoal from eucalyptus, graze cattle and do other subsistence farming…or try to make it rich by mining for Sapphires. 

In Ilakaka, the heart of the 10 year old Madagascar Sapphire trade, many thousands of people, including rural people and newcomers, have descended on the town and are trying their luck at digging and selling uncut sapphire stones to the Sri Lankan and Thai traders who have set up shop in fancy new buildings that contrast sharply with the wood and mud shacks lived in by the everyone else.  Driving into this boom town after miles of empty open grass land was a bit surreal.  I immediately thought Nevada City and Grass Valley must have looked like this shantytown in the mid 1800’s.  We stopped at one of the few gem stores where one can purchase cut stones.  Mostly the traders buy from the locals and send the rough stones to Sri Lanka or Thailand for cutting and distribution to the world market.   The proprietor was French and had only a few small stones for sale.   No one we saw looked any better off for the Sapphire boom except the traders who are making the market.   Several other small towns have sprung up to take the pressure off Ilakaka and they look just as depressing and ramshackle.  What gems were nearby and easy to pick are long gone and now the mining takes place 60-80k away in the desert so we did not get to see any mine works.

Further on we found a shady roadside place to stop for lunch.  While we ate there was no other traffic on the road and we remarked about how silent the place was–no cars, no planes, no machines, no electricity, not even any birds.  Vy and our driver were surprised that we thought it was unusually quiet as it was normal for them.   We also commented on how many stars we can see at night after the generators are turned off.  For Mark and me it is much quieter and darker than our ranch in Mendocino.       

On the outskirts of Tulear we turned into the botanical gardens where there are 400 different species of plants on 8 hectares–90% of which are endemic and 80% of which have medicinal properties.  We were given a pleasant walking tour and I took some photos for my plant loving friends along with the names so I wouldn’t have to remember what they are.  Although it was winter and almost nothing was in bloom, I must say there were some really weird looking plants all surviving happily.  In the garden we found 2 chameleon, a couple pied robins and a sunbird.

From there we went directly to the airport and caught our flight back to Tana for the third time.   This was also our third time to stay at the Relais de Plateau.  We are now familiar enough with the place to know what to ask for and what to order at dinner.   So far, this is also the only place from which we have been able to send email, so I will close for now so these mumblings get to you soon.

Love and Hugs,

Julia and Mark

July 22, 2009

Nature Lodge, Diego Suarez, Madagascar

Salaam from the far north end of the island.  After an on-time flight from Tana to Diego Suarez, we arrived in this city of 110,000 people that was discovered by a couple of Portuguese, William Suarez and Diego Diaz, in 1453.  Their real find was the natural harbor that is second only to Rio de Janeiro’s harbor as the best in the world.  It has one narrow entrance, a false entrance and 154 km of circumference.   Unfortunately for the Malagasy people, the harbor is too far from world markets to be of any significance.  It is a beautiful sight anyway as it straddles the Indian Ocean and the Mozambique Channel and is turquoise to dark blue in color.  Even though this is the least populated region of the country, it is most cosmopolitan with a mix of Arabs, French ex-pats, Chinese, Comoros Islanders (between Mozambique and the northern tip of Madagascar) and the local Antakarana tribal people.  Winter weather here is warm and sunny, unlike Tana weather, which is very cold and damp.  The terrain around the bay and the city is mostly flat with medium hills and rain forest in the receding background.  We drove around the bay, saw another variety of Baobab tree, the Andasonia Surenzensis, which has distinctively reddish skin and grows only in Diego Suarez.  In the bustling city center, also full of rickshaws, we found a place to buy a Madagascar flag, took some photos in the market and then drove to our accommodations, the Nature Lodge, about 20 minutes out of town in the hills near the rain forest, Montagne d‘Ambre. 

After lunch we headed into the rain forest, picked up a local guide who could not really speak English and who did not show us much in the forest.  The guide Vy had chosen for us was not willing to wait, which forced Vy to take whoever we could get.  It was a good learning experience in appreciating the quality of guides Vy has secured for us on every other local tour.  We walked around in the forest for 3+ hours, during which it rained off and on a good bit of the time.  Due to the overcast and rainy sky, the viewing was not the greatest, but I enjoyed walking among the lush plants, visiting two super waterfalls surrounded by large ferns and listening to birds even when we could not see them.  Still, we saw a band of Sanford Lemurs, a Stone Chat, a Paradise Flycatcher and a chameleon.   Back at the Nature Lodge, again we were the only guests, we enjoyed our bungalow perched on the edge of a hillside with a view of the bay, the Indian Ocean and the Mozambique Channel as well as the nearby hills.  The sunset was lovely.  Dinner was passable, but our ongoing conversation about life in Madagascar according to Vy continued pleasantly.  We agreed on another early am departure and off to bed we went.  The air was pleasantly cool and we were asleep before the power was turned off at 10pm.  Nearly all the accommodations we are using are on generator power and, with so few guests, they are leaving the power on as few hours as possible.  Can’t blame them.  It does mean we have little time to recharge the computer and camera batteries, however.

July 24, 2009

Tsara Kumba, Nosy Komba (Nosy means “Island“ in Malagasy), Madagascar

Yesterday, we hit the road at 6am to get to the Ankarana Reserve by 9am so we would have some morning time with the wild life.  Part of our problem in the rain forest the day before was that we were there in the afternoon when most of the animals are quiet.  We hoped to experience more activity by arriving earlier and we did.  The guide for the day, Jaffra, was quite pleasant and had his plants, animals and English in good command.  The reserve is known for its unusual limestone pinnacles, called “Tsingy”, which means “walking on tip toes”, because that is how the local people had to walk over them as they were so sharp and pointed.  Of more interest to us was a huge hole in the limestone into which falls and disappears the contents of three rivers.  We could see the hole as the rivers are completely dry at the moment.  Apparently the water does not daylight until it reaches the Indian Ocean 80km away.  Jaffra was able to find several lemurs and birds for us including the Crowned Lemur and two nocturnal species, the Northern Sportive and the Ankarana Sportive Lemurs.  We have tried very hard to get good photos of lemurs to share with you, but we cannot promise that our photos will be good as the lemurs are fairly high up in the trees and there is a lot of foliage between them and our lenses.   The same is true for many of our bird sightings.  Sometime we don’t even try to photograph them.  At least we are enjoying seeing them.  In this reserve we had good sightings of Crested Coua and Paradise Flycatchers.  As for flora, we saw another rare baobab, the Andasonia Madagascariensis found only in this reserve.  We also saw a weird bulb shaped creeper vines that has a bulbous-like trunk that holds water during dry times, called Adenia elephans.  We found a Pandanus Biecaps with a large seed and Pachypodium decari plants with white flowers in bloom.  Mark spotted stag horn ferns, Platyceraum alucorne, growing on tree limbs.  Hope that is enough Latin for a day or a trip.  If you think the above few items are a bit much, imagine how much we have had our ears filled with names and medicinal properties of rare and endemic plants that are at once very interesting….and almost as immediately, forgotten.  There was so much to take in, we often asked our local guides to go slower, not because we were tired, but because the experience of walking in theses forests, parks and preserves was so rich and full of new things to see, smell, hear and touch.

We walked out of the reserve about 1pm and had a real Malagasy lunch prepared at a local restaurant–a place we would not have entered on our own.  However, the place was clean, there was a bucket of clear water for wash our hands and the meal was good.  It consisted of huge quantities of steaming rice accompanied by a stew of very “free range” chicken and an unusual green vegetable that made our tongues tingle, but which Vy could not name.  Dessert was a whole banana.  Other variations on this Malagasy dish include the substitution of beef or plain vegetables rather than chicken.  We have read, and Vy confirmed, that the Malagasy people consume more rice per capita than any other country–400 grams per day or 323 pounds per person per year.

Fully filled on stew and beer, we began the drive south-east to our next lodging in a coastal village called Ankify.  In spite of wanting to see the scenery, we both napped an hour or so.  The tarred, but pot-holed road was only 140km, but took 3 hours to negotiate, as has been the case on all the roads in Madagascar.  When awake we chatted with Vy and our driver, Charlie, who were both very humorous and made a few photo stops.  Finally we arrive at the coast and our hotel called The Dolphin Bleu on the Mozambique Channel.  It looked ok from the outside and the bungalow we were assigned seemed ok at first.  However, this turned out to be the worst place we have stayed on the whole trip.  We started by going for a refreshing dip in the sea and then heading for the shower, which dripped only cold water straight down the head to the handle making it hard to get any water on ourselves.  After that unsatisfying experience we met up with Vy for a drink, which could not be served with ice as there was none.   By then we were noticing that the place did not seem very clean and everything looked tired.  We played a round of doms, the one good thing about the place, and then had the worst meal we have had in ages–a tepid, thin, fishy smelling broth with tiny fish bits at the bottom,  followed for me and Vy by a plate of bad tasting fish and boiled potatoes and for Mark by the chicken, so tough it tasted like jerky, in an unsavory curry sauce also served with boiled potatoes.  Vy had not stayed here in ages and thought it must have been booked because it was the only possible place for us to stay before taking a morning boat to our R&R resort.  Then we went to bed, hoping to get a good night’s sleep.  However, the power, along with the fan in the room, was turned off at 10pm and we sweltered most of the night.  There was a mosquito net, as there has been at every place we have stayed, but we did not put it down as the air was so still and hot.  Consequently we each suffered several mosquito bites before we crawled under the sheet and eventually closed the netting with some mosquitoes inside with us. The bed looked reasonably firm before we got into it, but when we got out of it in the morning it looked like a deflated tire.  We could not imagine how they got it to look good for us and what they will do for the next customers.  Needless to say, we were more tired when we got up than when we went to bed.  It is hard to imagine how one can do a bad job of serving a continental breakfast, but this place managed.  By 9am when the boat arrived to take us across the channel to Nosy Komba, we were more than ready.  Charlie had driven back to Diego Suarez, but Vy joined us and we all felt better with the morning breeze coming across the boat as we motored only 15 minutes to our next destination.

The change was dramatic and most welcome.  We stepped off the boat into 3 inches of warm sea water and walked up to the landing where we were met by the manager, Cecile, and invited to step into a tub of clean water so we would not get sand on the wood decking.  The thatched roofed bungalows were set among a dense stand of palm, bamboo and bougainvillea plants that made the place cool and inviting and the restaurant reception area was high on the hill with a lovely view of the Madagascar coast line.  Our grass and wood bungalow is spacious (Mark says about 750 square feet) and delightfully appointed.  Mark commented on the detailed cleanliness and careful construction of the place and how much he appreciates quality when we get it.   We have a large deck where we spend much of our time reading, computing, birding and listening to the gentle lap of the surf, which is directly below us at high tide.  We will be here 3 days and 2 nights and Mark has declared that he is done doing until we leave this piece of paradise.  I plan to scuba dive tomorrow and then relax the rest of the time.  Vy hung out with us and we played dominoes most of the morning until lunch.  Then he took the boat to another island, Nosy Be, to catch a plane back to Tana.  Our time with him is finished and we will miss him.  Mark and I walked him to the boat and handed him an envelope with his tip inside.  We hope we have given enough to make him feel appreciated while not giving too much.  Such a complicated decision which we discussed several times and for which we will never know what would be best.  Now back to being on our own.  Nice.  Late in the afternoon we had a lovely rainstorm that lasted through dinner and off and on during the night.   

July 25, 2009

The day dawned sunny and clear and we both felt refreshed.  While Mark spent his day being, I went on my third scuba diving adventure of this trip.  Toni, the French dive master who lives on the other side of the island with his Malagasy wife and two children, picked me up at 8:30am.  I was the only client for the day, so he was not keen on taking me out to the favored dive spots in the marine reserve near Tanikely Island, but with a little persuasion, he agreed and we were soon motoring to the island.  The gear he packed for me was a bit too small, but we made due and were soon below the surface in 85 degree water.  If felt most warm to me and I was still comfortable after the second dive, an unusual occurrence for me.  The first dive was about a quarter mile off shore of the island in 60 feet of water with at least 65 feet of horizontal visibility.  We let the current take us on a drift around one side of the island and saw many different reef fish and schools of bigger fish drifting with us.  The hard and soft corals and sponges were abundant and very different from many I have seen elsewhere.  I have never seen so many gorgonian fans in such shallow water–quite a beautiful sight.  Toni told me the area is a preserve and it felt great to swim in a healthy marine environment.  We saw 2 medium sized sting rays, one moray eel, a few nudibranches and a 14-16 inch crocodile fish laying on the bottom looking as menacing as the shore bound variety.  We surfaced at 54 minutes and went ashore for the hour break between dives.  I was pleased to see more lemurs and to be able to feed them the bananas Toni brought for that purpose.  There was a group of about 8 Common Brown Lemurs, who were used to being fed by divers and snorkelers who frequent the island. They took bits of banana from my hand and sometimes put their hand on mine to reach the fruit.  The sensation was quite pleasant as their hands were soft and gentle.  They were not so tame as to leave the shelter of the trees, but would come down quite close to the ground to get a piece of fruit.  I was only sorry I did not have my camera.   Ate a couple of bananas myself and then we were off again for the second dive, which was very close to the beach in 40 feet of water.  This time we stayed down for an hour and 3 minutes, a fairly long dive.  The visibility was just as good as the first dive, but the viewing was different.  The sandy bottom was broken by clusters of coral where the sea creatures gathered for safety and food.  We saw the usual colorful coral fishes including many Parrot fish, tangs, Moorish Idols, black and white clown fish and many whose names I do not have in my head.  There were several large lion fish, lots of gobis on the sand in many sizes and colors and 4 very large turtles.  They were fun to watch feeding on the coral and swimming between feeding stops.  I was able to get close enough to touch 2 of them and one turned and stared me in the face only 18 inches away.  I loved it.

Back in the boat, we motored back to the hotel.  We had been gone for 5 hours of total pleasure.  Meanwhile, Mark had an equally wonderful time being.  I showered and we had a delicious lunch of gazpacho, fish Carpaccio, dorado kabobs and duck stir fry.  And there was still the afternoon to while away.  We read, went for a walk on the beach, a swim and a shower and did some computing.  A super day.  Now, for a drink in the twilight and dinner.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

I learned that there was a Catholic Mass happening in the village around the corner from our beach resort so Mark and I took a pirogue (wooden outrigger canoe with a motor on it) ride to the village and walked to the church for what we thought was to be 8:30 service.  Slowly people arrived and Mass began about 9:15.  The small building was full of children and a few adults.  I could follow the parts of the service and we enjoyed the singing.  By 10am the priest, who was dressed in street clothes, was still giving his sermon and we had had enough, so we walked through the pleasant village chatting with people and taking photos.   We saw a wood construction business, where the men were hand making fine joinery for building beams; a pirogue building business; lots of people washing clothes; people napping on their porches; women selling their handmade table clothes; coffee drying and vanilla being cured.  

Vanilla is very cheap here as there is so much growing everywhere, but it is very labor intensive, which, I guess, is why it costs so much to buy it at home.  It grows on a vine and is green when picked.  Then it is boiled for no more than 3 minutes, dried exactly 15 minutes in the sun every day for two weeks, then dried all day every day, unless it rains, for three months.  If it gets wet, every bean must be hand dried immediately or it will rot.  The hard part is that good vanilla must be individually massaged every day during that 3 month period or it will be brittle rather than supple.   Knowing if it has been correctly cured is the part that stumped me.  We bought some when we first arrived in Madagascar and now realize that it must have been smoked to assist in the aging–it has a smoky smell–duh!  Boy did I get taken in.  So we purchased more from Cecile, who told us she markets the “good” stuff for the ladies in the village and does not keep a percentage for herself.  I believe her. 

Eventually we passed through the village and followed the trail through the woods and along the beach until we got back to Tsara Kumbe.  By that time we were really hot so we went for a long, last swim in the warm ocean and talked about being sorry our holiday was almost over, that we were about to begin our slow process home, via Tana and Johannesburg and what a wonderful adventure it has been.  A shower, one last lunch overlooking the sea and we were on our way.

Nosy Be airport, Nosy Be Island, Madagascar

We have just had an abrupt end to and idealic visit to Tsara Komba.  We said good bye to Cecile, the manager, and got on a speed boat with an Italian couple also heading for the airport.  The ride was fast and bumpy and we got a bit wet, but it still felt like we were on holiday.  Then we pulled into the port at Nosy Be.  Nothing pretty there.  Lots of people, noise, diesel fumes and filth.  A small car was waiting for us, but could not take all our luggage with the trunk closed, so we departed with it open.  The city buildings were very dated colonial and, like most of the colonial building all over Madagascar, not well kept up even if still in use.  The town was hot and dirty and it felt better to get out into the countryside for our 20km ride to the airport.  About half way there, the car had a flat tire, our second of this trip.  We all piled out and took out our bags.  The driver managed to change the tire in less than 10 minutes, even faster than Mark did it.  Back in the car, we made it to the airport in ample time.  Now we wait for the plane to arrive for our 5:30pm flight to Tana, which, as usual, was late. 

Apparently Madagascar was in pretty good physical and economic shape in 1960, when the French left.  Unfortunately, bad leadership and lack of skilled labor caused the country to go downhill rather rapidly.  By the 70’s the country was as poor as other African countries which had been granted independence.  In Vy’s opinion, the people were not ready for independence.  No one had been taught leadership skills.  Reunion, a French Protectorate, fared much better as the French continued to offer help.  Vy wishes Madagascar had become a protectorate too, so the people would be better off today.  It is really sad to watch African countries flounder through bad governance.  The people deserve better. 

At Tana our driver was waiting and in about 40 minutes we were at the Hotel Colbert in the heart of town.  We quickly freshened up, had dinner in the hotel and went to bed.  Tomorrow we will do a bit of shopping at a couple of art galleries that have been recommended and then head back to the airport for our mid-afternoon flight to Johannesburg.

As we finally have internet access here at the Colbert, I will send this off now.  Don’t know if I will have time to send another message.

See you all soon, Julia and Mark      

July 28, 2009

AtholPlace, Sandton, Johannesburg

AtholPlace is a guest house on a residential street in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg.  Every property in this and other nice neighborhoods is surrounded by high walls and further secured with a watchman stationed in a glass booth next to the gate.  We arrived here last evening about 7pm.  The managers were two charming gentlemen, who upgraded us to a suite because they did not want to bother putting us in a standard room in an adjacent building where we would be the only guests.  No complaints from us.  The suite is quite large with very high ceilings and contemporary furnishings with touches of distressed wood pieces and fresh flowers scattered about.  The best part is the bedding, which has a 725 cotton thread count and is made by the Italian company, Frette.  Most sumptuous for our last two nights in Africa before the 30+ hours it will take before we see the inside of our own bed, which happens to have a much lower thread count, but is HOME.

Today we took a guided tour of the city and really enjoyed learning the history of Jozi, as Johannesburg is known locally, from our guide who is 64 and lived through and participated in the struggle against apartheid.  He mostly spoke from his experience and brought that whole period to life for us.  In addition to driving through different neighborhoods in the city, we visited Constitutional Hill, where the men’s and women’s prisons were located until 1983.  We joined a group of university students for the prison tour and they were as shocked as we were to learn about the atrocities imposed on the prisoners, especially black men and women during the apartheid years.  So bad I don‘t want to describe them here.  Ask me later, if you are interested.  Suffice it to say, it was horrible and hard to imagine how the whites could be so cruel.  Apparently, they thought of black people as inferior beings, who did not need to be treated with decency or respect, which is why apartheid was so bad and lasted for so long.  Desmond, our guide, said the blacks were and still are grateful to the rest of the world for imposing sanctions, which helped considerably in bringing apartheid to and end.  From the prisons we walked into Constitution Court, built in 2003, where issues affecting the new constitution and its array of popular rights, passed in 1994, are heard and sorted.  It has been built from brick taken from parts of the dismantled prison and is very provocative. 

The plan was to visit the center of the city next, but Desmond learned that there was a large strike of municipal labor workers in the downtown and he would not take us near it.  So, we went to Soweto and spent several hours driving around its various neighborhoods including where the new middle class live–even a few millionaires; where the majority live in very small box houses that are very tidy as they are now owned by the residents; where thousands more still live in tin shacks and squalor; where 5 large shopping malls, complete with cinemas, now exist and appear to be doing a robust business–we bought lunch at McDonald’s in one of them; where industrial buildings and businesses are adding to the mix in the hope and plan that Soweto will become a city in its own right and no longer a bedroom community of Johannesburg.  Nelson lives in Soweto and was very enthusiastic about the progress that has been made and hope will continue to be made.  So far the government has clearly poured a lot of money into the area.  I am somewhat skeptical as we were not taken to other slum neighborhoods to see what help, if any, they have received.  While there we toured Mandella’s home from the 40’s until he was arrested in 1963 and visited the Hector Pieterson Memorial Museum regarding the 1976 student uprisings.  Hector was the first person, a child of 13, killed.  This uprising, which left many children dead and drew the attention of international press, was the beginning of the end for Apartheid.

By late afternoon we agreed that the strike must be over for the day and headed into the Central Business District, CBD, which was abandoned by most businesses, restaurants, shops, tourists and residents during the 80’s and 90’s when crime brought the center to a standstill.  Most every business, including the stock exchange, moved out to the northern suburbs.  Now there is an effort being made to revitalize the area and many big historic buildings are experiencing a renaissance.  Unfortunately many vacant buildings have been taken over by migrants from Zimbabwe, Nigeria and other unsettled countries.  I asked why the landlords didn’t through the people out or turn off the power and water and was told that landlords are not allowed to cut off services to the poor and getting them out legally is a nightmare of paperwork.  So the building owners are sabotaged. What a distressing predicament.  Meanwhile, it is relatively safe to visit during the daytime, but by 7pm the streets are empty of all but vagrants.

Desmond provided us with a very full day and we were glad to have learned so much.  Back in our cocoon, as the guest house feels to me, we relaxed a bit and then headed to another “safe” suburb called Melville for dinner at Moyo, a restaurant with African décor, food and live music.  I had hoped for something lively and interesting, but the musician of the evening was a solo guitar player/singer from Cameroon.  His music was monotonous and boring.  At least the food was good.  Melville proved to be a pleasant upscale village, with outdoor dining and pleasant pedestrian streetscapes.

July 29, 2009

This is our last day in Africa.  We use it by going to the Apartheid Museum in the south side of the city for a 3 hour visit.  It reminded me of the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC–very informative, dramatic and intense.  The museum covered the period from the first appearance of man in Africa–ie. everyone–through all the various contributing racial factors and periods in South Africa contributing to Apartheid to the presidency of Nelson Mandella.   Very well done.  Go if you get the chance. 

Driving back to the cocoon, we commented on how much more comfortable we are in Johannesburg than we expected to be.   Although we must be conscious of our surroundings and keep aware, which is the case in all our travels, we found nothing to arouse fear or serious concern.  We will happily return.

And now we head for home.

God willing we will see you real soon,

Julia and Mark