9 posts tagged “traveling”
Back on the other side of the Great Firewall tomorrow, so no Vox for a few weeks. I will probably still send posts if I can, but won't be able to access it until the middle of July.
Wow, it's going to be a busy few weeks: meetings, discussions, observing, editing, writing, arguing...and that's just ONE job! I still have two other gigs I have to manage to keep up with after going into the office all day every day. But it's OK. I'm in a nice hotel in a great city...
But I hate leaving home for so long. I guess it's a good sign that after 5 years, I still miss Masa terribly when we're apart. A week is fine. Actually, a week might even be good. But three weeks sucks! We do end up talking on Skype at least once a day (usually twice) which is borderline pathetic (or maybe fully pathetic, I don't know).
But this time I feel that I have so MUCH to get back for: Masa (of course), closing on our house, getting ready to start renovating for several weeks, moving, Mags and Marie (I wonder if she'll remember me after being away for three weeks, I guess she probably will), plus all our friends who have fun stuff planned for later this summer.
It's good to have a little break from the routine, to be honest. And put in my face there to guarantee another 8-12 months of work on a new project (which means 8-12 months of INCOME). And hang out in Shanghai, a city I love (though it'd be so much better if Masa could come with me!).
I feel like getting slightly poetic here, to write about how lucky I feel at this time in my life: to be surrounded by close friends who give me so much, to have a job which though a bit dull at times, provides me with a good living and allows us to have our own place, travel, be productive. To be such an important part of Magdali's life, to feel invested here in Montreal. Leaving my life for three weeks is so good: it makes me reflect on how GREAT my life is and how very lucky I am.
This morning in O'Hare, waiting for my Shanghai flight...I am half dozing (I got like 2 hours of sleep last night), listening to a guy who is on his mobile phone just a few steps from me:
“Yeah, so it was really scary. I mean we started dumping fuel and that took a while. Well, at first we started dumping fuel and that took like 30 or 45 minutes. Then they realized that the flaps were malfunctioning so we had to dump even more fuel. And we just kept flying around and we were getting nervous that we wouldn’t be able to land because we had dumped so much fuel. And then we realized that the flaps weren’t working and then it seemed really scary. Man, I was sweating bullets up there and I know Jack was, too.
I’d say between dumping all that fuel and having to put everyone in hotels for the night, we dropped at least $250,000 for this event. I’m not sure who you want to communicate that to, but just FYI.
I’m about to get on the next flight now. I’ll text you if there is any problem but I am definitely going to double check the flaps. If there is any problem up there, I’ll be sure and let you know...”
The guy obviously worked for United, though not sure if he was a pilot or just an employee that happened to be on the flight. He spoke with authority which makes me think he was a pilot, though he was dressed casually and seemed rather young: in his early 30s.
What’s odd is that he had this conversation in a crowded terminal with hundreds of people sitting around and everyone could hear him. It sure didn’t reassure me as I waited for my flight to Shanghai!
Later, I found out that the Hong Kong flight the night before had had a major problem and was delayed for 18 hours. So it must have been that flight he was talking about...then, about 10 minutes after that they announced that the Shanghai flight was cancelled...grrrrrr. I guess they couldn't get a replacement plane for all the people who were stranded one night because of the Hong Kong aircraft so they bumped our crew and our plane for that flight this morning. That meant we were cancelled. Sheeyot. There goes my Monday night meeting. I was also hoping to have a drink with some old friends in Shanghai who are leaving for a month on Tuesday for Belgium. Sheeeeyot!!
So I've been sitting in this Chicago hotel room all day working. At least I got caught up on some other work!
I'm in a hotel room in Burlington, Vermont and thinking about how EASY things are in small towns.
It takes about five minutes to get from one side of town to the other.
Everyone is so friendly! The guy at the gas station asked me about my car (a rental: something GMish). He asked if it had any "get up and go." I have little to compare it to since I don't own a car. I just shrugged. He asked if I was from New York City. (What was THAT supposed to mean?!) I told him I had a gun in my backpocket: so shut it and let me sign the credit card receipt, niiice and sloooow like and no one has to get hurt.
Friendliness is kinda scary.
No traffic jams! People let you go first (something unheard of in Montreal, capital of "the worst drivers in North America.") You can turn right on red!!!! (They'll send ya up the fleuve on the island of Montreal for that offense.)
I went to the airport (to pick up my mom (flying in from the west coast) and parking was FREE! Imagine! Free parking at the airport!
I wonder what else'll be free in hicksville (no offense, that's what the hotel clerk said this town was after she gave my directions and I look confused, i.e., "You can't get lost HERE. This is hicksville!").
One thing: gas is expensive. Still cheaper than Canada, but like $4.15 a gallon here. Yow.
This rash of "list books" has really taken up a significant place in many people's imaginations the last few years. There is the 1000 Places to See Before You Die, 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die. Or 100 Best Movies. And 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. And many others. Each TV morning talk show is now jumping into the fray and compiling their own lists. Interesting story about the book list here.
I don't get this. At all. Why would someone buy one of these books? Is it simply out of curiosity? Is to to gauge how smart or well-read or well-traveled you are? To get a sense what books or albums are "officially" good? Can't we just compile our own list? Can't we trust our own judgement? Reading (at least to me) isn't about reading something because you SHOULD read it (unless you're in school or doing research for something). It's about reading something because you WANT to, because it interests you. Traveling ditto.
I guess I don't travel that way. I just go where I want to go, places that have something appealing: the architecture, the language, the history, the food. I don't want a book "summing it all up" for me and ranking places. I don't want my travel plans all laid out for me by some editors far away who know nothing about me. Part of the thrill of living is NOT knowing where life might take me: it totally depends on circumstance and whim.
I don't read that way either: in fact, a good deal of my reading has to do with my traveling or my general interests in place. Though there are many writers that I like, I generally discover these writers because for three months or two years I get on a "China kick" or an "Argentina kick" (which I'm on now) and I read pretty much books that fall in line with that (though not exclusively). I also tend to watch movies from the same place or period at the same time.
I don't know why I read like this but it's always been this way: when I lived in a certain part of Shanghai, I was on a French Existentialism kick and certain neighborhoods in Shanghai still remind me of Sartre & Simone de Beauvoir and Arthur Koestler. One summer in my early 20s, I read everything by Alice Walker and Zora Neale Hurston and if I happen to go by that apartment in Boise where I lay in the backyard reading, I am reminded of these books and writers.
And these "kicks" come and go: occasionally I get all into Henry James and read three of his novels in a row. Or Edith Wharton. I've been on a Japan kick many times: it waxes and wanes. Lately, I've been on an Argentina kick and I feel like I'm learning so much about Argentine history and culture. But that's going to transition soon into a Mexico kick, I think: I'm priming myself up for all the countless excellent Mexican writers that I've not read (Elena Poniatowska, Carmen Boullosa) and re-reading writers that I have read (Carlos Fuentes, Octavio Paz).
Also I will read history books and watch movies and listen to music from the same area when I'm on "a kick." I don't ONLY read books or watch movies, etc., from ONE area when I'm going through this. But mostly. Also, poetry is different: poets whose work I really like are usually American. Contemporary. Odd.
I wonder why I don't read novels that take place in modern North America. They often just don't interest me unless there is some historical element to them. Rarely will I pick up a book which takes place in modern America and find it interesting enough to devote hours to. Sometimes: I like Jane Hamilton and Anne Tyler. I like Phillip Roth and Jonathan Franzen. I like Amy Tan and Junot Diaz.
I'm much more interested in books and music which explore other kinds of cultural or historical realities.
I guess that's why I don't like these rote lists: they don't speak to me. They don't offer options since 90% of them are by American or British writers: they'll have one or two from France or Italy, maybe Russia. But that's about it.
I suppose reading is a form of escape for me (as it for most people, I guess). But it's a good escape. I don't necessarily want to move to Mexico City (maybe), but it opens up a new world for me and I can both see the similarities to my own life, and consider the differences. Who wants to read about people or lives that are like their own only?
And I don't decide to go travel somewhere because of a museum or restaurant or a three star Michelin rating. Or because some person I don't even know tells me I should go there before I die. The world is HUGE. I've got my own list to get through.
before i went to niagara falls for the first time (october, 2005), i never thought much about waterfalls. the only reason, in fact, we went to niagara to begin with was because masa really wanted to see it. so we went and it was quite spectacular (though the city of niagara is one of the worst tourist hell-holes ever).
and before we even came here, masa said that he wanted to come to iguazu falls. to be honest, the only thing i even knew about iguazu falls was that tina lord from one life to live had disappeared over iguazu falls and was presumed to have died, but reappeared years later (replaced, of course, by another actress). for some reason, i kept thinking about this as we stood looking over the precipice. but i'm getting ahead of myself:
leg one
tour of the jungle. pretty. interesting flowers. some interesting information. blah blah blah. but kinda hokey at the same time: a big open-topped 4X4 with about 40 people all with cameras, a woman shrieking into a microphone with pertinent tidbits, everyone ooh-ing and aah-ing at the same time. i've been on enough jungle tours that "the edge" was softer than it might have been, i guess. still, it was worth it. what sruck me as we rode through was that paul theroux book i read a few months ago the mosquito coast: imagining that family cutting a clearing in that kind of jungle and starting a life there with none of the conveniences that even the most hardened granola-type would be hard pressed to do without...at night i imagine a place like to be one of the most truly terrifying spots on earth.
leg two
we climbed down from the 4X4 and walked down the hillside to a waiting boat, where we all strapped on our life-vests for a tour of the river. now this was fun: racing along, motor blaring, seeing wild animals, birds flapping away in fright at the sight. we zoomed under the falls, got soaking wet, etc. etc. then we got out, crossed the river on another ferry and walked around san martin island for a while, eating a sandwich, watching kids play in the river. we hiked around, saw the smaller falls, discovered some "vulture" park where hundreds of vultures lounged about lazily, waiting for something (or someone) to die. i asked rupe to climb out onto the rock and lay reeeeeally still for a while and see if they'd come over and peck his eyes out, but he refused. some friend. then it got interesting because it started POURING down rain.
we crossed back over to the "mainland" and wandered up the side of the cliff as the rain drenched us and everything with us.
at some point we just accepted that we couldn't get any wetter, but the worst part was the COLD, big lightning flashes (i was convinced we would die there on the cliffside, struck by falling trees hit by lightning). when we reached the top and discovered a cafe, i was ready to give up on the rest of the tour and sit in that place with coffee the rest of the day (as if we could have found a seat!). masa and i went around back (no room anywhere else), wrung our shirts out and hung them up over the air conditioning unit which was blowing hot air. that invigorated us, but i was still: "i'm NOT going on a boat ride in the pouring rain, so you go and have FUN" (he didn't want to go either).
leg three
the rain stopped, suddenly. it warmed up. we wandered up yet another mountain to the train station where we boarded a train for some place named "devil's throat". (it was here, i imagine, that tina lord fell overboard and vanished for a few years). we crossed a long bridge over the wide flat and shallow river that was surprisingly calm and peaceful just a few meters upstream from the falls. but the falls: ok. one of the most amazing sights i've ever witnessed. the power and force of that water just cannot be captured in a picture. it was exhilerating, beautiful, peaceful, terrifying all at the same time and hundreds of swallows flitting all around, playing in the mist and dodging in and out of the roaring torrent. those birds have quite the life! the only down side was the huge number of people there: so far i've been lucky in that whenever i do these "tour group" things, it's always off-season, so it's quiet. but not this time: everyone and his brother was there having their own unique experience. yech.
leg four
after the rush of the falls and the crowds, we boarded a smaller boat and meandered down the river (upstream from the falls) and just took it all in: the trees, the landscape, the smooth tranquil water. bamboo leaning in the breeze, creaking peacefully (i was surprised to see so much bamboo here: i had thought it was primarily an asian species). then we floated past an alligator. kinda nervewracking, actually: at one point, i could have reached out and touched his face we were so close. i didn't. i don't know how these guides trust that the alligator wouldn't suddenly just jump up into the boat and feast on all of us...he just slept, his pokey eye rolling around, just enough motion to let us know that was alive and, indeed, taking us all in....sheeesh.
and that was it. two parts hokey, one part annoying, two parts beautiful, one part spectacular.
oh i had my hostel days, don't get me wrong. but the last one i stayed in was probably vietnam in 2001. i think it was in hanoi, in fact, that i decided: hostels are not for me. i am too old for hostels. since then, it's been only hotels.
but one of the guys we came here with (we're in iguazu falls up near the border with brazil and paraguay) booked a room in this hostel before we left buenos aires and we thought, ah, what the hell.
the room is so-so. the food is lousy. but i forget how much FUN hostels are: right now as i write this, a samba line is moving around the lobby (imported brazilian dancers in carnival outfits), masa & rupe are playing ping pong, people are playing pool, hippies are reading books, dudes are drinking beer, others are surfing the internet, talking, sleeping, cooking, smoking, swimming, playing fussball. it's quite a spectacle, actually.
hotels isolate people. you rarely meet people in hotels. i'm trying to think, in fact, the last time i "befriended" someone in a hotel. ages. but when i was young and did the hostel thing across europe, i met some great people and ended up traveling half of my time with them. and here, too: it's like being on a cruise: we keep seeing the same people, smiling, cheersing, chatting, everyone is becoming familiar.
and cheap. we (masa and i) are in a double room with a private bath, tv, just like a hotel only not as...mmm...nice (comfy bed even) for like $39US a night. and the samba dancing is free!
last night dinner in town with some friends we met in buenos aires last weeked in tango class. today we spent traversing the national park here, more about that tomorrow...
once, in shanghai, i was in an internet cafe and this tall gangly british guy was standing in the front, facing the poor bar girl with a very aggressive (and very western) confrontational stance, clutching his lonely planet guide and shouting "but it says here in this guide that the cost is only four yuan an hour! you are trying to rip me off!"
the image -- long haired, half crazy dirty asshole, using a guidebook as some kind of testament of what reality should be -- has always stayed with me and represents to me the ugly "modern" traveler.
in graduate school, i did a bit of work on edward said who devoted his entire career to this question (though in a much more complex fashion): how do textual representations of reality, particularly of other cultures, affect and influence our "real life" interactions with these cultures? edward said was interested mainly in how westerners generally subjugate and oppress cultures they see (or saw) as inferior. but there are so many extensions into simply the way travelers expect certain cities or countries to be based on what lonely planet or rough guide or the internet says they should be. and though edward said was interested primarily in how this was done in the past, the practice is still very much alive today (case in point: british guy in internet cafe in shanghai).
in the several guide books i bought, perused, and read before (and after) coming here, i was struck with the sheer similarities they share: the brief historical sketches, the "quirky" fact that 'few people' know about such and such a place, the apocryphal story that is "inside" information. these books are often written with that sort of tone in mind: that the writers/editors of X guidebook have the "real" story of the city, the inside scoop, the most accurate picture of the place possible. the informal, chatty style underscores this, reminding me of a chat you'd have with someone in a dark corner of a bar in thailand, someone "in the know".
but this is ludicrous, of course. the "secret" restaurant that three guidebooks talk about, the "back way" that no one knows about, is just a silly way to break down the formalities between writer (or editor) and reader. and, most obviously, it undercuts the entire attempt at imparting secret information to begin with...more than once i've seen a "secret" place become overrun with hoardes all clutching their lonely planets as some kind of travelers' badge. knowledge most certainly is power!
(i'm not picking on lonely planet, just using them because they are just the most obvious example)
what happens to the parts of a city that guidebooks simply omit? huge swathes of this city are simply excised from all the guidebooks i've looked at, as if these sections don't exist at all, as if the people in these neighborhoods are not worth even a cursory glance. one book even says specifically about one neighborhood (la boca): "stay on the main avenue where the tourists stay. there's nothing else to see in this neighborhood anyway." what makes one area "the beaten path" and one have "nothing to see"? how presumptuous of the writer!
this wouldn't matter so much except that i know for a fact that people pay attention to these kinds of powerful, seemingly innocent asides. i can't count the number of times someone, after telling them i'd been in XX city in china, said: "oh, XXX guide book says there's nothing worth seeing there. why did you go there?"
as if there is only one reason to travel. as if there is only one way of seeing something. as if there is only one kind of experience that travelers are all after...
on reflection here, i wonder about my question yesterday about blind travelers: what a blesisng to go somewhere and NOT have access to lonely planet. i tell you what: if a blind guy could write a travel guide, i'd buy it. imagine how interesting that would be...
ayutthaya is the ancient capital of thailand. it was a populated and important centre of culture and knowledge until the burmese sacked it in the 1760s. after that, the capital was moved to bangkok, along with the king's palaces and most of the precious artefacts that the burmese didn't cart back off to mandalay.
we booked a room there for two nights but abandoned our last night and came back around 7pm yesterday. it was lovely to see the ruins and some beautiful buddhas and so on. but nothing else to do and everything was boarded up by 8pm. during the day it was nearly unbearable with the heat AND the humidity.
here are some pictures we took....
some snippets:
- mosquitoes never bite me! we can be outside and masa will have 100 mosquito bites and i won't have a single one. this is the same in thailand and japan and even in canada! strange!
- there has been a lot of rain in this area for the past several weeks and the rivers are nearly bursting from their banks. we had dinner at this little cafe along the river bank. the water rushed by literally 5 inches from our feet. it was a little freaky because the current in that river was like nothing i've ever seen and if any unfortunate soul fell in, they'd be in cambodia in about 15 minutes (wait: maybe that's the wrong way: maybe they'd end up in the gulf of thailand).
- we took the train and it was such a beautiful old train station with painted signs above the doors that read: station master and cloakroom (what is a cloakroom exactly? a place for cloaks?). when the train was arriving the station master would come out, take a whistle out of his breast pocket, blow it, then ring this huge brass bell. it was like some 1940s movie. (the train fare from bangkok to ayutthaya was about 35 cents apiece!)
