I get into Beijing and head straight for the Mongolian embassy. It only takes about an hour to find. It might have been easier to get all the visas before I left but that would probably have taken me longer and Japan would have kicked me out of the country. I'm glad I'm going East to West and not the other way around, as I gather the embassies are stricter, pickier and grumpier in the UK and in Russia. Visa issues sorted for the day, I spend the next two hours trying to decide what to have for breakfast, by which time it's really rather closer to lunch. This is the beauty of travelling with no fixed schedule, you can give breakfast the due care and consideration it deserves in a country with such great food. Mysterious pastries, as it turns out. I'm sure they have a better name, but for me with my pathetic command of the Chinese language, mysterious pastries they shall have to remain.
Later I walk around the lake near the forbidden city and get lost (again) in the hutongs. This is a more commercially developed area, and it is impossible to walk 3 steps without someone offering me a rickshaw ride. Do I really look so decrepit?
Friday, May 25, 2007
Monday April 2nd
Shanghai again, and I don't like it any more the second time around. I think maybe because it's so big, and the weather always seems to be crappy, and I don't have a sense of how the city works. I don't know. Shanghai doesn't make sense to me, and my heart belongs to Beijing. On my way into the city centre, I pass old people doing Tai Chi in a square. So far, so Chinese. Then a group doing what seems to be cheerleading with pom poms, and they are led by the campest Chinese fellow I have ever seen. Then a squad doing an elegant dance with fans, similar to dances I've seen in Thailand and Japan. My favourite though were the fifty or so people, young and old, on the steps of the Oriental Shopping Plaza at 7.30 a.m. doing ballroom dancing. I've learned that since the medical care in China isn't always accessible to the poorest people but free Tai Chi or ballroom dancing is, most people take a 'prevention is better than the cure' attitude to their health. This explains why I see old ladies stretching their muscles, one foot up on the back on the bench on the street, and touching their toes.
I'm nearly out of money but can't change anything until I get my passport back at 12.30. I try showing the bank my receipt from the Russian embassy explaining that they have my passport, or a photocopy of my passport, but they must have the real thing for pointless beaurocratic reasons unspecified. I sulk, drink coffee, and read my book. When I am too wired from all the coffee I go back to sulking. I'm not particularly in the mood today, it's hard work getting around a strange city that either doesn't speak your language or will follow you for six blocks trying to practice it before embarking on an elaborate scam to separate you from your dollars.
Finally I get my passport, my Russian visa is all present and correct and I even got a smile from the girl behind the desk. The day is looking up. I have some nice conversations with people who do just want to practice their English and not steal my money, and speaking of which Shanghai bank is all sweetness and light when I can produce my passport to change some cash. This is good news, because now I can buy a train ticket, catch the train with a whole 4 minutes to spare and get back to Beijing.
I'm nearly out of money but can't change anything until I get my passport back at 12.30. I try showing the bank my receipt from the Russian embassy explaining that they have my passport, or a photocopy of my passport, but they must have the real thing for pointless beaurocratic reasons unspecified. I sulk, drink coffee, and read my book. When I am too wired from all the coffee I go back to sulking. I'm not particularly in the mood today, it's hard work getting around a strange city that either doesn't speak your language or will follow you for six blocks trying to practice it before embarking on an elaborate scam to separate you from your dollars.
Finally I get my passport, my Russian visa is all present and correct and I even got a smile from the girl behind the desk. The day is looking up. I have some nice conversations with people who do just want to practice their English and not steal my money, and speaking of which Shanghai bank is all sweetness and light when I can produce my passport to change some cash. This is good news, because now I can buy a train ticket, catch the train with a whole 4 minutes to spare and get back to Beijing.
Sunday April 1st
Birthday of fools and Lisas everywhere.
I get up late, go for lunch with Maria and eat a prodigious amount of food. Fried beef, fried pumpkin, rice, shredded potato, soup, and green tea from a wobbly teapot Maria insists we turn to face away from us.
"It's unlucky if the spout faces you."
"What about the people on the other table?"
"They can handle it."
Then we waddle to the nearby Laama temple, a Tibetan Buddhist temple. Apparently its presence demonstrates the Chinese government's tolerance and inclusiveness. After all if there is a Tibetan temple in Beijing, Tibet must be Chinese. Or so this theory goes.
I collect my stuff before catching the train to Shanghai to get my passport back. I thank Maria and Raphaela for all their kindness.
"What will you do after you go back to Shanghai?"
"I'm going to come back to Beijing for a while, I feel like there's still a lot to see."
"Where will you stay?"
"Just a hostel probably."
"You can't stay in a hostel, come back here."
"That's very kind, but I feel like I'm getting in the way of your work. I mean, I'm sleeping in your office."
"I insist."
Maria insists, and I have somewhere to stay in Beijing when I come back. I'm amazed by how generous she and Raphaela have been with their house and their time.
I make it to the station with at least two minutes to spare and get on the train back to Shanghai. My compartment holds the usual assortment of three bewildered Chinese businessmen who don't quite know what to make of a foreign female travelling alone. In the next compartment there are some Americans who I drink a beer with in the restaurant car, but they talk so loudly I have to escape back to the relative peace and quiet of the snoring, snorking, gnark gnarking Chinese businessmen.
I get up late, go for lunch with Maria and eat a prodigious amount of food. Fried beef, fried pumpkin, rice, shredded potato, soup, and green tea from a wobbly teapot Maria insists we turn to face away from us.
"It's unlucky if the spout faces you."
"What about the people on the other table?"
"They can handle it."
Then we waddle to the nearby Laama temple, a Tibetan Buddhist temple. Apparently its presence demonstrates the Chinese government's tolerance and inclusiveness. After all if there is a Tibetan temple in Beijing, Tibet must be Chinese. Or so this theory goes.
I collect my stuff before catching the train to Shanghai to get my passport back. I thank Maria and Raphaela for all their kindness.
"What will you do after you go back to Shanghai?"
"I'm going to come back to Beijing for a while, I feel like there's still a lot to see."
"Where will you stay?"
"Just a hostel probably."
"You can't stay in a hostel, come back here."
"That's very kind, but I feel like I'm getting in the way of your work. I mean, I'm sleeping in your office."
"I insist."
Maria insists, and I have somewhere to stay in Beijing when I come back. I'm amazed by how generous she and Raphaela have been with their house and their time.
I make it to the station with at least two minutes to spare and get on the train back to Shanghai. My compartment holds the usual assortment of three bewildered Chinese businessmen who don't quite know what to make of a foreign female travelling alone. In the next compartment there are some Americans who I drink a beer with in the restaurant car, but they talk so loudly I have to escape back to the relative peace and quiet of the snoring, snorking, gnark gnarking Chinese businessmen.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Saturday March 31st
1 and 2: Forbidden city.3: Dragon.
4: Starbucks inside the forbidden city.
5: Gaggles of Chinese tourists.
I got up early hoping to beat the crowds, but I should have learned by now that in China there is no way to beat the crowds. I got to the forbidden city at 08.30, just in time to take up position behind hundreds of elderly Chinese tourists in matching baseball caps. The forbidden city is huge, but luckily my very clever audioguide flashed little lights to show where I had been. I liked this one a lot more than the Xi'an one.
I can't imagine what it would have been like to try to live in the forbidden city, or live outside and always wonder what was behind the walls. I would hate to be the servant told, "the emperor wants dinner in the garden of contemplative delight," and trying to remember which one it is.
This took til noon. Tried to go to the summer palace - no such luck. The lonely planet is a pile of poo and the instructions to get there utter gibberish. I give up and go to the temple of heaven instead, which also takes forever to get there. I realise I'm on the south side of the temple and the map has the street labled on the north, bah humbug. The temple is huge, set in an enormous park and it's still stuffed with tourists.
In the evening Maria, Merce and I go for dinner at a restaurant near the flat and order a ridiculous amount of spicy food. Portion sizes in China are a bit different to Japan.
Friday March 30th
1:Maria and Rafaela.
2: The corner of the Forbidden City.
3: Statue outside Mao's mausoleum.
4: The gate outside the Forbidden City.
Sorry I'm a bit behind. China periodically stops access to blogs, the week I was there being one of those times.
Friday I got pushed onto the metro by a security guard (it was the only way I was going to fit) and disentangled my nose from a businessman's armpit at Dongjimen. I met up with Maria, my couch host in Beijing. She's a Porguguese freelance journalist, and said China is an easy place to work as long as you don't write about the wrong thing and you don't mind calling twenty different people to get a two minute interview. Her flat is in a Communist style block near Dongjimen subway station. She made me real espresso (the best cup of coffee I've had for a year) and it made me wonder if I was Europesick rather than homesick.
In the afternoon I walked around for a while and quickly discovered that Beijing is not a city designed for walking. I suppose this is what happens when 17 million people live in the same place. I did the first thing I always do in a new city - get very lost and spend the next two hours getting un-lost and seeing lots of the city.
In the evening Maria, Rafaela and Merce took me for dinner and it was delicious. We skipped some of the exotic items on the menu (duck chin, chicken feet, chicken neck, bull's penis) and settled on Peking Duck.
Friday I got pushed onto the metro by a security guard (it was the only way I was going to fit) and disentangled my nose from a businessman's armpit at Dongjimen. I met up with Maria, my couch host in Beijing. She's a Porguguese freelance journalist, and said China is an easy place to work as long as you don't write about the wrong thing and you don't mind calling twenty different people to get a two minute interview. Her flat is in a Communist style block near Dongjimen subway station. She made me real espresso (the best cup of coffee I've had for a year) and it made me wonder if I was Europesick rather than homesick.
In the afternoon I walked around for a while and quickly discovered that Beijing is not a city designed for walking. I suppose this is what happens when 17 million people live in the same place. I did the first thing I always do in a new city - get very lost and spend the next two hours getting un-lost and seeing lots of the city.
In the evening Maria, Rafaela and Merce took me for dinner and it was delicious. We skipped some of the exotic items on the menu (duck chin, chicken feet, chicken neck, bull's penis) and settled on Peking Duck.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Thursday March 29th
Xi'an
looks like: thousands of terracotta warriors.
smells like: thousands of terracotta warriors (a bit like the art room at school, an old clayish kind of smell, but without the aroma of teenage armpits).
sounds like: an incredibly nasal, whiny, audio guide that I wanted to stomp on.
tastes like: beer at noon. Hic.
feels like: bloody hot.
I got up at 06.30 and tried to get my stuff together to leave quietly but THUMP BANG no such luck. I'm sure everyone else in the room wanted to smother me. I got the bus out to the terracotta warriors and had hoped to get there early enough to beat the crowds, but I should know by now that there is no way to beat the crowds. Chinese tourists like to get there early too, damm them. I had to wait for the staff to beligerently scuff across the plaza to come and rent me an audio guide, but immediately regretted it because the audio guide was horrible. "I will break the information down in exactly the same way each time. First, I will tell you how many parts there are to this section of commentary. Second, I will tell you many dull statistics involving square metres. Third, I will make you want to bite your own ears off with my incessant high-pitched whine and peculiar mangling of English."
I liked the labels in the museum that went along the lines of, "we turned to the guidelines of the Communist Party to inspire our work and dilligently complete our endeavors". I love communist signage, but the new industrial China's signs are pretty groovy too. Outside the museum, this was written on the wall: "terra cotta warriors international plaza, according to configuration all kinds of cermocial items linked with new creative industries, become a morden public culture - tour pooling place, froming pure culture and history visiting enpand to Assembly traveling service, showing, shoping, consuming and so on this whole industries chain and connect industrial morden practice travling industries item."
Well, indeed.
I liked the terracotta warriors, they're all different when you look at them closely. So far only about half of them have been excavated and the rest remain a fiendish pottery jigsaw. Outside I got talking to an American high school teacher who did a not too shabby impression of a Scottish accent, so we ate lunch together and walked around the nearby tomb of dead emperor.
Back in Xi'an, I caught the train to Beijing and hopefully walked up and down the train in search of company. This time I'd caught the Z train (nicer than the T trains) but once again, there were no tourists to be found and the people in my compartment didn't speak English and looked utterly terrified of me. Le sigh.
looks like: thousands of terracotta warriors.
smells like: thousands of terracotta warriors (a bit like the art room at school, an old clayish kind of smell, but without the aroma of teenage armpits).
sounds like: an incredibly nasal, whiny, audio guide that I wanted to stomp on.
tastes like: beer at noon. Hic.
feels like: bloody hot.
I got up at 06.30 and tried to get my stuff together to leave quietly but THUMP BANG no such luck. I'm sure everyone else in the room wanted to smother me. I got the bus out to the terracotta warriors and had hoped to get there early enough to beat the crowds, but I should know by now that there is no way to beat the crowds. Chinese tourists like to get there early too, damm them. I had to wait for the staff to beligerently scuff across the plaza to come and rent me an audio guide, but immediately regretted it because the audio guide was horrible. "I will break the information down in exactly the same way each time. First, I will tell you how many parts there are to this section of commentary. Second, I will tell you many dull statistics involving square metres. Third, I will make you want to bite your own ears off with my incessant high-pitched whine and peculiar mangling of English."
I liked the labels in the museum that went along the lines of, "we turned to the guidelines of the Communist Party to inspire our work and dilligently complete our endeavors". I love communist signage, but the new industrial China's signs are pretty groovy too. Outside the museum, this was written on the wall: "terra cotta warriors international plaza, according to configuration all kinds of cermocial items linked with new creative industries, become a morden public culture - tour pooling place, froming pure culture and history visiting enpand to Assembly traveling service, showing, shoping, consuming and so on this whole industries chain and connect industrial morden practice travling industries item."
Well, indeed.
I liked the terracotta warriors, they're all different when you look at them closely. So far only about half of them have been excavated and the rest remain a fiendish pottery jigsaw. Outside I got talking to an American high school teacher who did a not too shabby impression of a Scottish accent, so we ate lunch together and walked around the nearby tomb of dead emperor.
Back in Xi'an, I caught the train to Beijing and hopefully walked up and down the train in search of company. This time I'd caught the Z train (nicer than the T trains) but once again, there were no tourists to be found and the people in my compartment didn't speak English and looked utterly terrified of me. Le sigh.
Number-crunching in China
50: times you will hear "hello miss, shoesbagswatch?" in downtown Shanghai in one hour.
0: pushchairs or prams in China. Everyone carries their kids in their arms.
0: nappies on Chinese babies. They have strategic slits in their trousers instead, and cold bums.
9000: rooms in the Forbidden City.
1: Starbucks in the Forbidden City.
32.66: cost (in pounds) of the train fare from Beijing to Shanghai (1463 km).
129: cost (in pounds) of the train fare from Aberdeen to London (841 km).
??: weight I've put on in China from eating too much Chinese food - I'd rather not think about it.
0: pushchairs or prams in China. Everyone carries their kids in their arms.
0: nappies on Chinese babies. They have strategic slits in their trousers instead, and cold bums.
9000: rooms in the Forbidden City.
1: Starbucks in the Forbidden City.
32.66: cost (in pounds) of the train fare from Beijing to Shanghai (1463 km).
129: cost (in pounds) of the train fare from Aberdeen to London (841 km).
??: weight I've put on in China from eating too much Chinese food - I'd rather not think about it.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Wednesday March 28th
Looks like: grand old city with ever-present smog.
sounds like: "I give you good price..." followed by half an hour of haggling.
smells like: lilacs and cherry blossom.
tastes like: steamed dumplings, yum yum. 6 RMB (about 30p) for 10.
feels like: unseasonally hot.
In Lu Dao hostel I found a clean bed and someone keen to hang out for the day, so Sarah and I walked around Xi'an and tried to get a good price in the market. Not much luck. I liked walking around the Muslim Quarter with its wide streets, old men sitting outside their shops, bird cages hanging in the trees with sparrows or larks singing inside, food smells wafting down the street. We walked to Grand Xingshan Temple and admired their creepy halls full of plaster depictions of Buddhist hells. Poor souls were impaled, had their entrails eaten by dogs, eyes pecked out by birds, or boiled in big pots, all in glorious technicolour and fine detail. Grim but kind of funny.
sounds like: "I give you good price..." followed by half an hour of haggling.
smells like: lilacs and cherry blossom.
tastes like: steamed dumplings, yum yum. 6 RMB (about 30p) for 10.
feels like: unseasonally hot.
In Lu Dao hostel I found a clean bed and someone keen to hang out for the day, so Sarah and I walked around Xi'an and tried to get a good price in the market. Not much luck. I liked walking around the Muslim Quarter with its wide streets, old men sitting outside their shops, bird cages hanging in the trees with sparrows or larks singing inside, food smells wafting down the street. We walked to Grand Xingshan Temple and admired their creepy halls full of plaster depictions of Buddhist hells. Poor souls were impaled, had their entrails eaten by dogs, eyes pecked out by birds, or boiled in big pots, all in glorious technicolour and fine detail. Grim but kind of funny.
Tuesday, 27th March.
Coco Ichiban! Hooray!Shanghai.
Looks like: we're about 2 seconds away from a car crash.
Sounds like: still spitting.
Smells like: dumplings.
Tastes like: hot cakes filled with red bean paste, topped with burnt sugar and sesame seeds.
Feels like: I wish there was someone on this train who spoke English.
I got up early and left Nicky's apartment with just a slight aftertaste of absinthe from the night before. I walked to Fangbang road, walking through some of the surviving old streets. Most of them are being demolished to make way for shiny new apartment buildings. To be fair, I can see why. A lot of the old buildings are rotting, roofs have fallen in, and there will be one ground floor room (a shop) being used out of the whole building. It's odd to walk through winding, smelly streets, cross the road, and find yourself in a gleaming apartment complex. I wonder what they make of their neighbours.
Later I caught the train to Xi'an and wandered around hopefully looking for someone to talk to. No luck. Lots of people gave me funny looks, but I seemed to be the only hapless tourist on the train.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Monday 26th March
2: Nicky's flat.
3: Shanghai skyline.
Shanghai smells like: builder's rubble.
Tastes like: tasty spicy savoury pancakes; over-priced tea.
Looks like: a builder's site.
Sounds like: spitting.
Feels like: wary of Russian embassy officials; grateful for nice people who let me sleep on their couch.
I woke up early, fed the cats, and headed off to the Russian embassy to get my visa. There was some waiting around, then some feeling nervous in front of embassy people as they go through everything written on my application form and ask me questions, then utter disbelief at the cost of a visa.
"Can I get same day processing?"
"Miss, it's a little expensive." There's a sign on the wall, 120 dollars. I can live with that.
"That's ok."
"240 dollars, please."
"What?"
"That price is for Chinese people. For British people same day processing is 240 dollars."
That's a lot of money. Suddenly regular 5 day processing and coming back to Shanghai to pick up my passport seems like a much better idea.
Feeling naked without my passport, I go for a walk. The buildings in Shanghai are a brilliant mix - old Chinese buildings, French mansions, British banks, American-style hotels. People look at me curiously. For all that Shanghai is supposed to be an international city, everyone seems to be Chinese. Including the 3 Beijing students who want to practice their English and then take me to a tea-tasting session. I don't have anywhere I have to be, so I go drink tea. It turns out to be extremely tasty, and surprisingly expensive. The students open their wallets without hesitation. This is the new Chinese middle class, it seems.
After tea, I walk around some more and find myself in the People's Square. The people's hobbies seem to be spitting, kite flying, and shouting hello to foreigners (though not necessarily in that order). I feel like I've been under the spotlight too much, so I go back to Nicky's apartment. I play with her cats and wait for her to come home so we can go for dinner.
I met Nicky though a site called Couchsurfing.com, where travellers can arrange to stay on couches all over th world. A bit like house swapping, only without the house or the swap. I stay in her house, and in return I buy her dinner. Much more convenient than a hostel. Nicky is an architect, originally from Beijing. She studied in America and her English is excellent. Her house is in the French quarter, and extremely pretty. It's interesting to be in a real person's house instead of staying in a hostel.
Tastes like: tasty spicy savoury pancakes; over-priced tea.
Looks like: a builder's site.
Sounds like: spitting.
Feels like: wary of Russian embassy officials; grateful for nice people who let me sleep on their couch.
I woke up early, fed the cats, and headed off to the Russian embassy to get my visa. There was some waiting around, then some feeling nervous in front of embassy people as they go through everything written on my application form and ask me questions, then utter disbelief at the cost of a visa.
"Can I get same day processing?"
"Miss, it's a little expensive." There's a sign on the wall, 120 dollars. I can live with that.
"That's ok."
"240 dollars, please."
"What?"
"That price is for Chinese people. For British people same day processing is 240 dollars."
That's a lot of money. Suddenly regular 5 day processing and coming back to Shanghai to pick up my passport seems like a much better idea.
Feeling naked without my passport, I go for a walk. The buildings in Shanghai are a brilliant mix - old Chinese buildings, French mansions, British banks, American-style hotels. People look at me curiously. For all that Shanghai is supposed to be an international city, everyone seems to be Chinese. Including the 3 Beijing students who want to practice their English and then take me to a tea-tasting session. I don't have anywhere I have to be, so I go drink tea. It turns out to be extremely tasty, and surprisingly expensive. The students open their wallets without hesitation. This is the new Chinese middle class, it seems.
After tea, I walk around some more and find myself in the People's Square. The people's hobbies seem to be spitting, kite flying, and shouting hello to foreigners (though not necessarily in that order). I feel like I've been under the spotlight too much, so I go back to Nicky's apartment. I play with her cats and wait for her to come home so we can go for dinner.
I met Nicky though a site called Couchsurfing.com, where travellers can arrange to stay on couches all over th world. A bit like house swapping, only without the house or the swap. I stay in her house, and in return I buy her dinner. Much more convenient than a hostel. Nicky is an architect, originally from Beijing. She studied in America and her English is excellent. Her house is in the French quarter, and extremely pretty. It's interesting to be in a real person's house instead of staying in a hostel.
Sunday 25th March
Weather: foggy.
Progress: Slow.
Hours delayed: 7.
Woke up and everything outside the window was white. Couldn't even see the water. Dropped anchor at 7 am and sat there in the mouth of the Yangtze river for 7 hours. When the fog finally lifted we saw other ships nearby, equally still. When we finally got moving, it took some time to sort out the traffic jam and get moving. We finally got off the ship in Shanghai at 8. I walked into town with a few other people. I tried to phone Nicky, my accomodation, but Chinese phones seem to be a practical joke. I made it to my digs at 10 pm, totally exhausted. The cats kept me up for a while, but eventually settled down at the end of my bed.
Progress: Slow.
Hours delayed: 7.
Woke up and everything outside the window was white. Couldn't even see the water. Dropped anchor at 7 am and sat there in the mouth of the Yangtze river for 7 hours. When the fog finally lifted we saw other ships nearby, equally still. When we finally got moving, it took some time to sort out the traffic jam and get moving. We finally got off the ship in Shanghai at 8. I walked into town with a few other people. I tried to phone Nicky, my accomodation, but Chinese phones seem to be a practical joke. I made it to my digs at 10 pm, totally exhausted. The cats kept me up for a while, but eventually settled down at the end of my bed.
Saturday 24th March
I slept in a tatami room with 8 other people, and slept quite soundly. I wasn't sure about how futons would work if the sea was rough, but we were all fine. We were fine for another couple of hours, and then the sea gradually got rougher. And rougher. The waves didn't look that bad outside, but lots of people were puking. There was nowhere to escape. Chinese women were puking in our cabin. A Japanese man was puking in the lounge. Children were puking downstairs. The deck was too rough. I felt ok if I lay down, so I did that. I didn't puke. Finally the waves calmed down, but we'd spent so much time sleeping in the day we were all wide awake at night. We played various international versions of card games, supervised by a curious audience. The next day I saw a Chinese family playing the version of Scabby Queen we played. I felt quite proud of that.
Friday 23rd March
So this me leaving Japan: sweating, heart pounding, and twitching slightly. Let's recap. I left Nagoya at 7.30 and took the Shinkansen to Osaka. From there I dashed to the Chinese consulate to collect my passport and lovely shiny Chinese visa. After that I zoom to the ferry terminal. I am there in perfect time. It is 10.30, the ferry leaves at 12, I am cucumber cool. And also, I soon realise, in completely the wrong place. The international ferry terminal is somewhere totally different. I have a horrible vision of missing this ferry and either having to fly to Shanghai, or camp in Osaka until the next ferry on Wednesday because it would just be too embarrassing to go back to Nagoya. I get back on the train, go back several stations, manhandle a station attendant, walk/jog for 10 minutes through a non-descript industrial estate, and arrive, wheezing slightly, at 11.30, a full hour later than I was supposed to be here. The attendant looks at my passport and points to the ship. It seems I have plenty of time after all and need not collapse in a small heap just yet.
I don't know what to think as I stand on the deck and watch Japan slide away. I've made some good friends here, had a lot of fun, and done lots of cool things. I can't imagine how the next part will go, and the excitement of the trip briefly overrides the recognition that I have left Japan.
On the boat, I don't know what to do with myself. No phone, no internet, no pressing things I have to do. I wander around the boat, play cards, read books. It's very strange.
I don't know what to think as I stand on the deck and watch Japan slide away. I've made some good friends here, had a lot of fun, and done lots of cool things. I can't imagine how the next part will go, and the excitement of the trip briefly overrides the recognition that I have left Japan.
On the boat, I don't know what to do with myself. No phone, no internet, no pressing things I have to do. I wander around the boat, play cards, read books. It's very strange.
Wednesdy 21st March
1: Matt.
2: Me, Nozomi, Kumiko, Kentaro.
3:
Eddie the karaoke god serenades us all.4: Crafty cig.
Leaving party and karaoke - super super fun getting drunk and being silly. Drunkeness in no small part helped by the nasty pint of guinness with shot of bailey's sunk in the bottom Matt made me drink. I dont much care for guinness. A few people called off due to flu and snot, but I got a couple of nice phone calls from people who couldn't make it.
Weird to leave Japan... more thoughts on this later.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
9 days to go
Number crunching:
9 - days left in Japan.
1 - shiny new passport with passport photo that doesn't make me look like a 40 year-old lesbian.
2 - free pages left on my old passport, which is why it had to be renewed early.
4 - visas to get for a month-long trip.
2 - days left at work.
1 - speech to be delivered on Friday morning in English and Japanese. Argh argh argh.
0 - boyfriends. I like to travel light.
3 - parties to go to over 4 days.
48 - hours from Osaka to Shanghai on a ferry. The slow boat to China, if you will.
9 - days left in Japan.
1 - shiny new passport with passport photo that doesn't make me look like a 40 year-old lesbian.
2 - free pages left on my old passport, which is why it had to be renewed early.
4 - visas to get for a month-long trip.
2 - days left at work.
1 - speech to be delivered on Friday morning in English and Japanese. Argh argh argh.
0 - boyfriends. I like to travel light.
3 - parties to go to over 4 days.
48 - hours from Osaka to Shanghai on a ferry. The slow boat to China, if you will.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Exciting new things
I have lots of pretty photos from the Hokkaido snow and ice festival that I can't show you here because Blogger is evil. It has decided to punish me by putting all of my menus into Japanese. I don't know how to change them back because, hey! I don't speak Japanese. Well done, Blogger. I don't know why it doesn't want to upload my photos, so no photos for you I'm afraid.
So imagine, if you will, 10 metre high snow sculptures of arctic scenes, famous buildings, and a giant cow. Ice sculptures lining the streets, snowflakes glinting in the dark... you get the idea. The ice bar was impressive. The owner made a metal frame, covered it with packed snow and then dripped water through the ceiling to fill the roof and walls with icicles. Embed fairy lights into the floor, add a bar and a pair of speakers, and presto! Money spinner. Wins 'coolest bar in Japan 2007' hands down.
So imagine, if you will, 10 metre high snow sculptures of arctic scenes, famous buildings, and a giant cow. Ice sculptures lining the streets, snowflakes glinting in the dark... you get the idea. The ice bar was impressive. The owner made a metal frame, covered it with packed snow and then dripped water through the ceiling to fill the roof and walls with icicles. Embed fairy lights into the floor, add a bar and a pair of speakers, and presto! Money spinner. Wins 'coolest bar in Japan 2007' hands down.
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