I think the locals thought we were weird when taking pictures of signs and menus. We were reminded how sensitive language is - replace a few words with synonyms and the results end up a tad off target and usually hilarious.
This was just before boarding a cable car in China:
Also in China, at the Three Gorges Dam. Billions of dollars on the project and they couldn't hire a translator for the sign every tourist sees? Welcome to China. The guy in this photo is Miles Hilton-Barber, Blind Adventurer. Perhaps the most amazing person I've ever met. He didn't turn over.
At Yellow Mountain in China, this is truly an earnest request.
Don't worry, I didn't take it as a compliment, really. From a crappy state-run hotel in Guilin, China.
Yes, China star-rates toilets. Seriously - it was still not great. This is inside the Forbidden City in Beijing.
Menus offered a near-daily source of laughter. This one is from a Dim-Sum menu in Hong Kong: Minced crap (I think they mean crab)
Yes, in fact, that is a cute potatoes with butter. Japan.
I'm just not sure what this is supposed to say. Japan.
Even when Japanese is not translated to English, it has a completely unique style. This is from a hiking trail in Tsuwano, Japan. See if you can decode it...
This was my guess:
1. Scrape the bottom of your shoe
2. Place scraped matter in your hand
3. And smoke it?
I love the design of this Japanese subway sign, seriously.
Stop using rocket shoes. From Osaka Buffaloes Baseball game.
Baseballs hurt. From Osaka Buffaloes Baseball game.
If I could do the trip over, I would build a catalog of crosswalk signs. They exist in every country in different forms along the same lines. This one obviously warns people to watch out for George Washington crossing with a devil child. Japan.
No one wants to see Pac Man drunk. Waka waka waka (hiccup). Japan.
And finally, if you're wondering what strategies Sachi and I will employ when we combine forces in 2007, this describes it perfectly:
Without yours, our trip would not have been then same- thanks.
I wrote this entry in September of 2006 from Helsinki, Finland just after arriving there from the Trans-Siberian Railway and a month in China. For a while I was consumed by learning about Communism and needed to get it on paper, so to speak.
This post is a bit of a departure from the usual travel topics and I hope you’ll pardon its serious and dark nature. Having been to
I figure that the root of my fascination is related to the fact that so many smart people believed in it so fervently and killed so many in an attempt to make it work – and the work continues to this day. To me as an American entrepreneur, Communism is endlessly fascinating because it diverges so greatly from my world view. The more I learn about it, the more baffled I become that so many could believe that it is a perfectly reasonable way to run a country.
I started the trip knowing very little about the Communist ideology, Marxism, Leninism or the history of the peoples’ revolution. After reading a number of books, visiting museums, etc., I think I have a handle on some of the basics. To test myself, I’d like to try to describe my layman's version for you as briefly and simply as possible.
Karl Marx was known as the father of Communism and the author of the Communist Manifesto – the first declaration of his theory in late 19th century. To Marx, capitalism (free markets, supply and demand, etc.) was evil and would eventually cause great misery to the people of the world. His goal was to stop it.
To understand why he thought this, we must consider the lives of workers in the Industrial Revolution of the 1800s. At the time he saw a world where people were either rich owners or exploited and unhappy workers. Marx saw this as a great injustice that was getting worse through the growth of Capitalism. He foresaw a future where Capitalism would create a small handful of rich people and a world of miserable people that would get more miserable over time. This would even be extended to a worldwide scale with the world eventually being run by a few rich industrialists. This was what some called Imperialism and it was the end game of Capitalism.
Marx was successful in convincing a lot of very smart and powerful people that his was the true vision of the world and his Communist ideology its savior. He promoted the idea that the true power of a civilization lies within the working class and if properly motivated, the working class can rise up in revolution against the rich land owners. This was revolution and it was the first stage of building a Communist system which would be fair to everyone – a single class society that worked to provide what it needed for the whole society. The government owned everything and everyone worked toward a common goal of self-sufficiency. In fact, according to the theory, there would be no need for government in the future – it would “whither away” as the Communist utopia was achieved. Everyone would be well fed, protected and happy as they worked together as one.
Of course, history shows that this is not the case. Two contributing factors:
- Marx got it wrong. He did not predict the rapid rise of the middle class. Before he died, he saw Capitalism creating opportunities for a new class that were neither the rich owner nor the exploited worker.
- Marxism was just a theory: It described how things should work and what should happen, but it never described *how* Communism or revolution should actually be managed. It was a theory with no doctrine.
Of course in the 20th century there would be no shortage of world leaders to test the Marxist theory in the form of prompting a revolution and establishing a Communist government – supposedly freeing the working classes from Capitalist oppression.
The first serious revolutionary was Lenin in
What has happened since then is the subject of great debate. Most would agree that if there is a winner in the Cold War, it is Capitalism. Many questions remain about what went wrong with Communism. I’ll let you research the myriad perspectives on what happened and leave you with my own admittedly half-baked answer.
I think there are two main reasons Communism failed. The first is human nature. Communism underestimated the human need for achievement, competition and recognition. Making everyone the same reduced everyone to the lowest common denominator and bred more misery and frustration than it prevented. The second reason is leadership. Have you ever heard of the founder of a company having to hire a CEO? It happens often because the people that start things are not often the best people to manage them. Revolutionaries are great at revolution, but can be poor at administration and management. The history of Communism is rife with stories of Mao, Stalin and Pol Pot making ludicrous decisions that caused the deaths of millions of their people. They grew omnipotent through revolution but lacked the skills to use that power in any responsible manner.
My guess is that human history will show Communism as a destructive and deadly force in the world, not because of the idea or theory, but its implementation. It enabled the centralization of absolute power that bred mass corruption and quickly became unmanageable. To give you an idea of the level of destruction, consider the number of deaths in these countries in the Communist era:
and Mao’s Great Leap Forward (1950’s) - 30 million dead from starvation China and Pol Pot’s Communist Revolution (1970’s) 7 million dead from starvation and executions (1 in 7 Cambodians) Cambodia and Stalin’s Iron Rule (1920-50s) – 40 million dead from starvation and executions Russia
… and this is not counting the unquantifiable misery wrought on families and individuals in these countries as secret police, hidden agendas and propaganda were a fact of life.
Could a system of government that produced numbers like this be considered a positive force in the world? I think not. Yet, the Communist Party is still a major player in world politics. In
Maybe the real root of my fascination with Communism is related to how it helps me to understand all the things I take for granted. The more I learn, the more I wonder what my life would be like if I was a child of Communism. With an entrepreneurial American worldview, I find it nearly unfathomable.
Our first impression of our train compartment was one of amusement. Two couches facing one another, a small table, a window and lots of metal clips, hinges, handles, ladders and switches that did not appear at the time to have any utility. What made us laugh was the decoration – I would call it Russian Grandmother style. Darkish floral print that was perhaps dark with age and usage with gold satin frill. The curtains matched the beds and the diagonal tablecloth really tied the room together nicely. Ugly but certainly sufficient for the 1.5 day journey.
It wasn’t long before we realized that we were on the way out of
After the first 12 hours, we went to the dining car and returned to walk through a train filled with a dusty fog. It had a sweet smell, not like fire, but a bit like freshly cut wood. You could feel the air on your eyes and it your nose and it settled near the floor. The air was crunchy. At dusk we looked out of the window across the hall through a dust covered window. Through the dust spattered glass, we could see sand - the very beginnings of the
Border crossings are a bitch. Since the toilet flushes directly onto the tracks, the toilets on the train are locked during the border crossing into
In some strange turn of railroad evolution it came to be that railroads were connected that didn't match in width. Such is the case with the Trans-Siberian train which must be refitted with new wheels or "bogeys" before heading into
: After crossing the Mongolian border, the train pulled up to Zamyn Uud, where we expected to get out and use the bathroom. Instead, the border guards boarded the train, took our passports and left. Soon after, amidst yelling and running down the halls, the train left the station without our passports. After leaving it then stopped and then rolled very slowly toward the station once more before going back two more times. Like everything else, no explanation is given. Later we received our passports and all was well.
Sunday, September 10
We awoke with the anticipation of a school kid on a snow day - what would we find when we opened the curtain for the first time? It turned out to be a scene of absolute nothingness - more nothing than we had ever seen anywhere. We looked out over an ocean of pure sand - the middle of the
Soon after waking we rattled into a small stop at the edge of the desert called Choyr, where eager Mongolian kids greeted us selling stones of quartz and amethyst. I expected to be mobbed when I stepped of the train, but they were polite and not tenacious on a level that I expected. I suppose
The run into Ulan Baatar was grassy rolling steppe - no vegetation over a foot high and gers that dotted the horizon along with their sheep, horses and cows. Disturbing the landscape on the train side were barbed-wire fences and electrical poles which are well used by White Tailed Eagles - certainly the most entertaining wildlife in view. The scrubby steppe is surely home to bite sized rodents that teased the eagles from their perches. It was not at all odd to see an eagle swoop down and attack just outside the window. It's nice to know this desolate place is feeding something so effectively.
Signs of Ulan Baatar slowly start to appeared from the window in the form of Gers that seem to be moving closer and closer together. A ger is a traditional Mongolian nomadic home – basically a round tent made of white felt or canvas. Most have no electricity or running water. Outside of the city you noticed gers as a white dot on the horizon, surrounded by livestock. It seemed that in the outskirts of Ulan Baatar, the nomads are inching their way towards stationary city life by planting their gers in more permanent positions around the city. In fact we would see them in downtown too.
The most immediate and striking aspect of Ulan Baatar was the women, many of whom were quite beautiful and dressed in the most up-to-date western fashions. I didn’t expect this in Ulan Baatar. The city itself is not beautiful and I described it at the time as appearing to be part refugee camp, part abandoned construction site and part modern city. It had all the conveniences that anyone would need – Internet cafes, supermarkets, movie theaters, restaurants, etc. The city has a reputation for lawlessness and aggressive pickpockets, but we saw no evidence of them.
Within an hour or so we boarded a mini-van and departed the city for Elstei Ger Camp, about 50 kms outside the city. Within about 30 minutes we reached the steppe – the land of absolutely endless rolling hills of grass. This is where we would spend the next two days.
Here are a couple of my favorite photos from our stay here...
This video is about our stay at the camp…
The train trip has exceeded our expectations in a big way. The train itself is OK, but Mongolia and Siberia have been highlights of the whole trip, except for my saddle sores. Unfortunately though, it's a bit harder to upload all the pictures, videos, etc. Once we get into the big cities like Moscow we'll be sharing a lot more. Here is quick video to get started...
In couple of hours we board a train from Irkutsk to Ekaterinberg, Russia which will take about 48 hours.
We are about to begin the first legs of the Trans-Siberian Railway, first stop: Ulan Baatarr, Mongolia, where we will spend two nights at a Ger Camp (I'm not really sure either). We are both so very excited - this trip marks the end of Asia and the beginning of perhaps the most anticipated journey of the year. Woo hoo! Here's the plan:
- September 9th: Depart
- September 10th:
(2 nights plus travel) Ulanbaatar, Mongolia
- September 14th:
(Lake Baikal-Siberia) (2 nights plus travel) Irkutsk, Russia
- September 18th:
(Urals) (2 nights plus travel) Ekaterinburg, Russia
- September 21st:
(2 nights plus travel) Moscow, Russia
- September 24th:
(3 nights) St. Petersburg
- September 27th:
Of course, this also marks the end of China, which has been amazing in so many ways - mostly unexpected. There is something I'd like to share about China before I go (with more coming later).
Tomorrow (September 9th) is the 30th anniversary of Chairman Mao's death and today on CNN International (one of two English stations) there was a segment on Mao. Two different sections of the segment were blacked out and we can only guess that the government was involved. There was a specific woman that spoke in the segment and whenever she came on the screen, it went black. This appeared to be blatant media censorship right before our very eyes.
I doubt I will ever be able to reconcile the contrasts that appear in China. It seems to be going at light speed into the future and stumbling backward at the same time. Amazing.
I'm not sure what I've gotten myself into with this whole concept eating strange things in foreign countries, but the ball is rolling... downhill. I fear that I may not be able to top this one.
Also, yes, I know a scorpion is an arachnid and not an insect.
I have a bad attitude sometimes, particularly regarding sightseeing and the tourist experience. It’s a necessary and often rewarding part of the trip, but we’re both learning that we don’t really like sightseeing. It often seems like the many of the things we see are significant because someone with dollars in their eyes decided to make it significant. Either that, or the significance that is experienced by others is lost on me.
Maybe I am shallow or cynical or unsophisticated, but I will be just fine if I don’t see another “important” image of The Buddha for many years. The same is true for many temples. Long before we reached
Another example occurred just today at the
(photo of the Blue Iris Stone is from this travelouge)
I have to wonder though, am I being cynical and shallow or am I being realistic? We’ve seen it happen before in tour groups – the guide makes a big hairy deal about something and the group eats it up and prepares the cameras without thought. This is where the tourist experience blends a little too closely with dollar signs. Tour groups need sights and the more the tourist is convinced that they are seeing something significant, the more likely they’ll actually find some significance. So, from my perspective, a strong percentage of what a tourist sees is filler – something to make the tourist feel like they are having a great experience in between the things that are really impressive and important to them. I think this gets to the heart of why I loath tour groups – too much filler and not enough time to independently figure out what is significant to me.
The tour guide is very in tune with photo taking opportunities as well. He has surely observed the hoards take pictures of a sight and assumes that everyone should have one – including me. Sometimes I snap a quick picture just to make friends but at the same time I’m thinking “If you really want to know what I want to take a picture of, it’s the grotesque and barely alive condition of your toenails, Mr. Tour Guide.”
It reminds me of
All this is leading to the realization that I don’t like sightseeing. I yearn for reality or a historical and observable connection to the reality of a city or country. Modern history is endlessly fascinating. The spread of Communism in
I will gladly continue to see sights and learn about history, but I’ll do it recognizing that there is a curiously real, entertaining and interesting aspect of tourism and tourists that can be quite rewarding to observe, even if the sights are not.
We went into deciding that we would laugh and find humor in the situation - no matter what. Being in
It started with a nice surprise - a minibus with 8 well-travelled and youngish Italians and some a few rows of spare seats. Italians are so fun and full of life.
Anyway, after sitting in ridiculous
Prudence is a very nice and gentle tour guide and it was hard to conspire against her. We huddled together to plot our resistance - we would not be taking the tour and we would demand to get back on the bus and proceed to the Great Wall. Stephania was our leader and the negotiations began while each of us used the bathroom and returned to the sidewalk by the bus, sure not to be lured into the fold.
Somewhere along the way, it was discovered that an espresso machine was present and the discussions were moved to ensure that Italians could get an espresso fix in the midst of the overthrow. A lesson in espresso-making ensued.
Prudence put up a valiant fight for our time spent in the factory, insisting on 40 minutes, then 30, 20 and finally 10 before capitulating completely and allowing us to board the bus to the Wall. Stephania was our rock and the insurrection was complete before too much time was wasted...and there was much rejoicing.
I encourage all travelers to call bullshit on the factory tour scheme when they travel - you will rarely find it on the itinerary before you buy the ticket, yet it will waste time that could be spent at the actual destination. If the group is small, ask about interest and organize your mutiny - remember that you are paying for the experience. Viva la Résistance!
Oh, and we saw the Wall too...
I do love my wife – but she is such a huge nerd. Did you know she has a degree in microbiology? You’d think with such knowledge, she would be more in tune with her own health. Before we left, Sachi saw an allergist and learned that she has allergies to trees and grasses – it affects her every year at home and her allergy medicine, which helps immensely, is in her backpack now. Sometimes Sachi needs a reminder about this fact.
For nearly the entire time that we’ve been in
I do not know why Sachi can’t recognize her own allergies, but I am now on allergy alert on her behalf. Never again will I watch her suffer through weeks of a “cold” only to find that we’ve been sharing the room with the cure the whole time. So much for microbiology.
There is a very particular and interesting type of Chinese gentleman that I’ve been observing for a while now. He is perhaps the Chinese everyman, or the closest I can find to the type. He is an everyman in
I do not wish to comment on his character or personality as I have not been able to communicate with him in any meaningful way. I can only comment on observing the multitudes of his kind from afar. For purposes of creating a meaningful persona, let’s call him Chinese Bob.
Chinese Bob is about 50 years old, about 5’5”, has a mildly receding hairline and a serious look on his roundish face, sometimes with a hint of consternation. His serious look is deceiving as he may break into boisterous laughter at any moment. His physique is rather stocky, with a plump midsection and a thick neck that extends from his ears.
I’ve sat next to Chinese Bob in movie theaters, subways and park benches and can only describe the experience as a cavalcade of bodily noises. Bob has acute respiratory problems, causing him to groan out throat clearing half-coughs every few minutes and burp loudly without conscience. Chinese Bob can also been seen performing the very common snort-hock-spit routine on
You might see Bob while leaving an elevator. He will be part of the group rushing into the elevator before you have time to get out. On the streets of
The one tried-and-true method of identifying Chinese Bob is by his footwear. Bob always wears the same shoes and socks. They are pointy-toed dress shoes with very thin, light-colored socks. You might even see Bob wear these shoes with athletic shorts as he ambles down the street with his posture laid back and his feet flopping forward.
The other sure way to identify Chinese Bob is by watching him talk on a mobile phone. Actually, it’s not something you observe so much as hear. Bob will seem to be yelling into his mobile phone without regard for his location. You can picture him saying “BIG BUSINESS HERE. I’m talking BIG business everyone, BIG TIME.” Bob is quite a big talker, I imagine.
I also imagine that Bob is a family man and a dedicated worker. Despite his foreignness and actions that sometimes seem repulsive to me, I know that Chinese Bob, if I could talk to him, would be a friendly and helpful person who might try to convince me to have a cigarette with him as he tells me about English football, Yao Ming and the upcoming Beijing Olympics. Unfortunately though, I don’t speak Mandarin Chinese so I can only assume that, on observation alone, he finds me equally or more foreign and strange.