Departure from San Diego

Sorry about the delay in posting, but we have been very busy so expect new stuff in the next couple of days. We have adjusted our clock 19 times since the start of the voyage and until yesterday we were 19 hours ahead of home. But…the date line. Now you are five hours ahead of us, you do the math. We woke up today and it was Tuesday, November 29 for the second time. Here is the long awaited order of departure determined by a drawing. I guess we can wave to each other for several hours.

Order of Departure from the ship in San Diego:

1 – Aegean
2 – Vitamin
3 – Arabian
4 – Red
5 – Yellow
6 – Mediterranean
7 – Bering (That’s us!)
8 – Caribbean
9 – Baltic

Everyone could be off as early as 2:30 or it could be later. Since we will have already done immigrations it could be faster, but we shall see.

One World, One Dream...China

Happy Thanksgiving!! As you may have guessed by now the MV Explorer was without Internet or phone service during our stay in Japan. So here is the long awaited trip in CHINA!! Things are winding up as the voyage is winding down and we are incredibly busy, especially with losing one hour for the next four nights, right now after the first adjustment we are 15 hours ahead of home, but not for long. Please be patient with our Japan posting, we will do our best to keep something new up but it is likely that the majority of Japan may not be complete before Hawaii. Stay tuned and enjoy…

November 12, 2005
Hong Kong

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We cruised into Hong Kong this morning with the sun bleaching the towering peaks of the skyscrapers platinum silver. I feel as if this trip is almost at an end, and indeed it was interesting this morning to return once again to a more Westernized atmosphere. Although we were due to arrive at around eight o’clock we did not actually disembark the ship until around twelve thirty. I was surprised to learn at first that we are not actually docked on Hong Kong Island, but on Kowloon, and will have to take the Star Ferry across the harbor to the city, which means inevitably that Megan and I will only see the city of Hong Kong from a distance.

After the ship was officially cleared Megan and I sprinted off into the port terminal in hopes of finding souvenirs from Hong Kong, though we were even more shocked to find high-end designer shops, and instead purchased a bag of Berry Blue and Pink Grapefruit Jelly Beans for our flight to Xi’an. Soon we were running out of time and in a desperate search for memory sticks. At long last, nearly out of time, we discovered an electronics and camera store and bought a 1 GB each for our digital cameras. At least we did not have to pack a laptop, and once again we are pleased with our packing and the enormous amount of room left in the bags for our shopping in Mainland China.

At three o’clock we grabbed our bags and headed to the Union to fill out ever more forms and catch the bus to the airport. Our group is quite small considering the size of most trips during this voyage, and Betty and Bob, Martin, Professor Jacobs, and her husband will also join us. The airport was enormous and filled with so many shops. Disneyland Hong Kong just opened in September and so we were extremely excited about the small shop selling apparel and souvenirs. We also bought a couple of treats at a candy store, though for gift purposes my lips are sealed.

Megan writes, “Coursing up, yet another, river into the hum of a sizeable creature; this living city unparalleled with those of Myanmar, India, and Vietnam. The reflections of modern skyscrapers in the waterway echo in reverse the various angles of the buildings, fashioning a continuous loop of mirrored facets from the architecture. Shopping is everywhere, to the left shop windows, to the right vendors, in front a mall. After anxious anticipation and the passage of the morning hours, noon approaches and Heather and I disembark. In the ocean terminal, a shopping precinct among many, we find the electronic stores. Our mission, two one giga-byte Sony memory sticks for our cameras. In under an hour we successfully clutch our purchase of the two sticks and a bag of pink grapefruit and berry blue jelly-belly beans.

Back aboard the MV Explorer we organize the last minute purchases into our carry-on bags and small daypacks. The bags seem light, a good sign as the forecast entails lots of shopping. After three o’clock we exit the innards of the comfortable, mystical animal that has become our home for the airport.”

Before boarding Megan and I ordered a bowl of noodles, mostly because we were not sure what dinner would bring, but also because Megan has been feeling under the weather. We boarded our flight at six o’clock for a two hour and twenty minute journey to Xi’an. The weather in Hong Kong was much warmer than I had expected, perhaps in the eighties, but upon our arrival in Xi’an we were quite cold and wrapped ourselves in several layers with a windbreaker, and Isotoner gloves.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

If the streets of Hong Kong were hectic, it is likely that half the population has filled the airport terminal in search of baggage, departure gates, and, of course, shopping. We find a store for Disneyland Hong Kong, the theme park having just opened in September. Everything says Grand Opening and it is unusual to look at the merchandise and conclude on the popularity of certain movies over others, of certain characters, and certain items. Mostly toys adorn the walls, and children’s clothes. Several T-shirts for adults are on a low white table. The wall opposite the register has Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Daisy and Pluto. Either Goofy is so popular the supply of stuffed Goofy’s has been depleted or he is not a part of the repertoire. Daisy, this surprises me, and along with several other purchases, the sweet little face of Daisy Duck accompanies me to the register. Their features are expressive, larger heads than bodies, black almond eyes with thick upright lashes. Minnie and Daisy have bows that lean to the side, their little hands jutting from plump little frames.

The flight takes two hours and twenty minutes, a span of time that feels like eternity. The arrival in Xian is marked with as much paperwork as our departure, stamping of passports and a health examination. As I have been nursing a cold, I dreaded the temperature check. I turned in the health card, having left every option unmarked. My feet line up with the yellow model on the floor and seconds later I can pass.

We transfer to the hotel, a decent accommodation, and after a shower quickly fall asleep.

Heather writes, “Landing in Xi’an the city was lit like a Christmas tree, even the highway was outlined in dotted blue lights as we drove to the Jianguo Xi’an Hotel. It is comparable to every hotel we have stayed in during the course of the semester, with the exception of the rooms being perhaps a little bit more comfortable and a tad bit more plush.”

November 13, 2005
Xi’an

A bitter morning greeted us when we departed the hotel for our tour. Heather and I clothed in three layers with gloves. Another student mocked our attire, both of us so annoyed with the student from previous trips we made our feelings known. Always willing to ignore or laugh off his comments, it is refreshing to point out when he says he is not laughing at us, but rather with us, that it is just the reverse. He will be sporting gloves before too long!

We arrive at the Big Wild Goose Pagoda, an amazing complex with smaller buildings surrounding the seven-tiered pavilion. Many of the surfaces are covered in a weaving of vines, some with colorful auburn and reddish leaves. Drainage ports extend from the building in the shape of dragons, peaking through the blanket of foliage. The trees are so beautiful, exposed from their summer garments, limbs naked and bare, fragile leaves dangling from several twigs in golden hues. Two marble elephants are at the rear of the complex, and as this is the thirteenth we take a moment to remember Nana. A table has four concrete stools in the shape of elephants as well. Every country since Africa has ornamented shrines and temples with elephants and it has become a welcome reminder of how much I miss her, oftentimes still feeling I am at College Park and will return home for a weekend to visit.

Heather writes, “We woke up early this morning for breakfast at the hotel before departing around eight thirty for our tour of the Big Wild Goose Pagoda. It felt so cold outside that it made me wish that much more for snow and a hot cup of cider. Though the morning news did announce that it is snowing in Kobe, I was surprised that small white flakes were not drifting from the heavens in Beijing or Xi’an. We had about one hour at the pagoda and the tranquility of the gardens with the Asian architecture, the orange leaves of fall and the whiteness of the sky have made it that much harder to be away from home. But what a change from the sweltering heat of the previous ports. I love it! Throughout the complex you could hear traditional Chinese music and even in the gift shop they had an enormous array of compact discs. The shopkeeper was even generous enough to play some for us before we purchased, and made some fantastic suggestions that I cannot wait to enjoy back on the ship and upon our return to the States. I just know that every time I hear the traditional Chinese music I will think of this place and the peace that it imparts to the world. The central pagoda rose in seven tiers with green trees surrounding its base and stone elephants frozen in time matching the majesty of the open landscape.”

With the nippy curls of air spiraling through the garden paths encompassing the structure, it is a refreshing relief when we approach an outside vendor for some hot tea. He opens the various jars, trying to translate the Chinese block letters into something more familiar. “Oooo-llong,” he says, in a clipped English accent. We settle on the aromatic smell of these leaves as he scoops three small spoonfuls into plastic cups. Adding hot water we thank him and wrap our frozen hands around the vessels for warmth. The leaves of the oolong begin to open, unfurling themselves into a large heap. The steam rising from the cup brings a rosy-ness to our cheeks and a slight pinkish color to our noses. I wonder if Jack Frost is behind this weather? After coming from Vietnam and Cambodia where the temperatures were easily in the nineties and hundreds, even Hong Kong around eighty, the gray sky and frigid air reminds me of home.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Before departing we decided to purchase something hot to wrap our gloved fingers around and found ourselves at a small shop pointing to cups and jars of tealeaves. Though the man spoke no English he filled two cups with steaming hot water and two spoonfuls of small green pinwheels that we have come to know as oolong. I half expected him to scoop out the leaves, but they just floated in circles around and around and around the cup. I have never in my life had such a wonderful cup of tea. It tasted superb – I don’t know if it was the fresh leaves, the continued steeping, the joy of watching the small spirals unfold, or just that it was so cold outside, but I could definitely tell that others envied our ingenuity and wished they too had a cup of warm tea to partake fully in the experience. It was such an amazing morning wandering around the pagodas and sipping tea. I know that my whole being was warmed as I drained the glass.

Our next stop brought us to the Shaanxi Provincial Museum where we saw many of the cultural relics of the Dynastic periods, including the tri-colored figures, and our very first glance of things to come – a terracotta warrior and chariot. In the gift shop we met a woman from Maryland on a tour of China, and it just goes to show that it really is a small world after all. Even her daughters went to Maryland, and it was so much fun to talk about Semester at Sea. Of course we had to purchase tea, and the museum had the freshest selection we have seen and some pretty awesome choices, green definitely making the list of four that we could not live without. Our last purchase was really more for comfort and added warmth in the chill of the city, and so we were so happy to wrap a cashmere scarf around our necks to face the ever-colder temperatures outside. How soft and cozy they made us feel, and all day they certainly served their purpose.

We had lunch at Rongshengzai Restaurant and sat around a round table with a lazy susan. They brought so many dishes to the table, though the sweet and sour pork over rice was my absolute favorite. Megan and I have been trying to master the art of chopsticks and perhaps by the time we reach Japan we may be able to pick up a large piece of meat, maybe being the key word. The restaurant was very cold and so we were glad to be back in the courtyard and walking into a workshop that produces the terracotta replicas. It was so much fun to see the kilns piled with figures and to take pictures in line with the life-sized replicas as if they were real; it was a blast to stand in line surrounded by the warriors and the pictures are quite funny. I had only ever imagined that I would buy one of the smaller replicas, perhaps for my shadow box, but upon seeing all of the sizes and variations we each chose two of the larger ones to use as bookends. I can see them in my very own type of a curiosity cabinet one day along with my Akua-ba and other worldly possessions.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

We leave the serene of the compound, the music from strategically placed speakers, traditional Chinese melodies, fades as we reenter the bus. We depart for the Shaanxi Provincial Museum. It is difficult to understand the artifacts inside the glass vitrine. Everything is written in Chinese. Is this gold disk before me currency, a button for emperors clothing, or an oddly shaped key for a secret chest? Ceramic figures line another wall behind the glass, most tri-colored in green, blue, and gold. I wonder if I am digesting any of the artifacts and their significance, as they do not warm to my gaze. Their response to me is as distant and cold as the weather outside, we seem not to understand one another and I would much prefer the instruction from a guide if the time were available.

In the souvenir shop a women opens jars of fresh tealeaves for me to smell, their aroma so wonderful that when I close my eyes I am welcomed with images of boiling teapots and small cups filled with the golden liquid. I settle on four varieties – green, litchis, rose, and summer. A cashmere scarf beckons me from the corner of the room and for a small price the softness of the pink cloth becomes a permanent addition to my wardrobe.

As if it weren’t cold enough outside, the Rongshengzai Restaurant retains an arctic atmosphere within its four walls. Lunch was spent in the embrace of three layers of clothing, gloves, and my new pink cashmere scarf. Even the tea and soup became cool instantly at the table; the lazy Susan overfilling with dishes like sweet and sour pork, rice, beef stir-fry, and vegetables. With my apparent fever I opted for soup, soup, and more soup. Having a cold in China is worse than sweating buckets in Burma, at least now it appears that way. My stuffy nose, relentless blowing with barely enough tissue I stuff into my bag each morning at the hotel, is a nuisance. Even with this cold I have so far managed to ignore its persistence when I am off the bus and enjoying the sites. I figure that is what matters most.

Across the street, the only authorized manufacturing shop of the terracotta warriors allowed us the opportunity to observe the firing process, rows of headless soldiers scattered about the concrete floor of the shop. Heather and I purchased two soldiers, a commander and an officer, a size that will undoubtedly serve as fantastic, original bookends. We amused ourselves by stooping low enough, for the medium sized soldiers, to become their heads, as well as falling into the ranks of the life-sized replicas. And even though they were merely replicas, we knew we would never get as close to the original.

At last, we arrived at the Terracotta Warriors Museum. Our guide led us to a round theater to watch a clip on the construction of Qin’s army and upon our departure from the cinema were greeted with signed copies of the official book, “Awakened.” The farmer to discover the ruins works within the compound to greet visitors and aid in research. Needless to say, it was quite a surprise to be able to have such a special introduction to the discoverer of the Eighth World Wonder.

With leisure time to ourselves, Heather and I walked the circumference of Pit 1, the thousands of restored soldiers standing their ranks. To the rear, the unexcavated portion still has undulating slabs of wood covered in dirt, the promise of more soldiers to emerge in the future. Signs announced no flash photography, many in our group disregarding the guidelines. It is distressing to recognize and appreciate these fantastic marvels still being excavated and restored. But when all the archeological investigation is complete, how will the tourist gaze damage the majority already unearthed? Stricter guidelines should be implemented for the preservation of this site. And while all three pits are housed within marbleized architecture safe from the ravages of storms, I can only imagine the damage millions of flash photography cameras will induce in the years to come. As I point out the sign to another student, she shrugs her shoulders and replies that everyone else is, so what.

Heather writes, “At last we were on our way to the Terra Cotta Warriors Museum for our long awaited glimpse of this remarkable site. It was so peaceful on the grounds, with beautiful landscaping, and the pits situated amongst a dozen rolling hills. Oh I so wanted it to snow. We were given about two hours at the site, enough time for any average tourist to see the three pits, but certainly not enough for us with our love of art history. We were absolutely amazed as we entered the first and largest pit. Thousands of warriors stood in file, though it was even more astounding that less than half of the stone army has been unearthed. And even more remarkable was the fact that these warriors were once brightly painted, but age has whisked it away. That is why so many remain trapped in the earth, at least until we can find a means to preserve the pigmentation. The second and third pits were much smaller, pit two showcasing the chariots and horses, and pit three demonstrating the state of the warriors upon discovery in hundreds of small fragments - an arm here, a leg there, a head over there, and a wheel in the corner. Before departing our tour guide brought us our promised books only available at the museum, with a special gift; the farmer that discovered the warriors in 1974 had signed every single one for the students. How special is that? Such a treasure to someone that loves the history of art, I still cannot believe the generosity.”

The experience reminded me a lot of Windsor Palace and being able to see Queen Mary’s dollhouse. The only method of capturing this intricate and beautifully detailed mansion was to purchase a book. The same can be said of the Terracotta Warriors. Inside Pit 2 and 3 were smaller constructions. Pit 2 with mostly uncovered structures revealed the elaborate nature of the find, while Pit 3 possessed cracked warriors lying horizontal, and horses recovered in a stately row. A sign pointed to the site of the well, the farmer’s means of discovering the terracotta army.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We had hoped to find ourselves sitting at the tearoom after seeing all the sites from every angle imaginable, but time was short and so we were once more on the bus for our return to the hotel. Back at the hotel we freshened up for dinner and wandered around the gift shop before ultimately negotiating the price of two chops. We have seen them everywhere since arriving in China and it would seem remiss of us not to purchase one. The chops are a type of hand carved stamp with your Chinese name intricately sculpted by a master craftsman and so after several hours we could view the finished product. I can even see myself stamping all of my books with my name, and using it in my textbooks to mark mine separate from Megan’s.

Megan writes, “With a brief hiatus in the itinerary, Heather and I were able to relax for an hour, flipping through channels on our television to find CNN. Our only opportunity to gain any access to international news is during these times in the hotels. We listen while reading or getting dressed tuning in when anything from home is broadcast.”

We had dinner in a large theatre watching the spectacular Tang dynasty dinner show, which we learned was world famous – indeed we were even lucky enough to get tickets as they are sold out for years in advance. We sat with Betty and Bob, drinking Great Wall red wine, watching the most beautiful costumes and harmonious music imaginable. This is another part of our journey that seems impossible to describe and thus impossible to share, though we did take some small film clips of the performance. The costumes were so bright and vivid with long flowing sleeves, and shiny sequined headpieces.

Returning to the hotel we found our completed chops and took a quick shower before turning out the lights quite satisfied with all of the incredible things we have done.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Within the hour we departed for the Tang Dynasty show. This world-traveled performance made its way into the United States with successful results. Every concert was booked, tickets selling for no less than two hundred dollars. The four scenes were amazing, the music just gorgeous, the costumes even more so. The dresses worn by the women had lengthy sleeves that they used as streamers and their elaborate movements coupled with the grandeur of the music. Confetti fell during the last scene, a real sense of drama and completion. Never have I wished so much for a CD of local music. It was just amazing, amazing, amazing. Perhaps my several small clips on the digital camera will serve satisfactorily enough.

During the performance we ate dinner at our table with Betty and Bob (my habit while typing has led to misspelling Bob the majority of the time as Bod in which I have to erase and re-fix). The bottle of wine was on the house, and its red contents emptied into our four wine glasses led to a toast. It is difficult to describe how wonderful their presence is on the voyage. I think back to the first day boarding the ship. As we walked down the pier I remember seeing them in front of us heading toward the ship. I recall thinking how I would love to have them as my adopted family. Finally, a couple weeks later, Mezraim and Ormond carry their dinner trays to our table and we are introduced. The rest is history, I guess.

I suppose I shall resort to what I normally say at this point in the day: After a warm shower, the steam opening my nose for much needed relief, I quickly fell asleep.

November 14, 2005
Flight to Beijing

The prospect of another flight ahead of me, I packed my carry-on with my purchases – terracotta replicas, daisy duck, T-shirts, books, and my chop, a small stone pillar heavily ornamented with the base carved by an artisan to spell your Chinese name. Of course, it’s ironic that my chop is longer than Heather’s.

Heather writes, “Once again we awoke to an early morning wakeup call for breakfast, packing, and a trip to the Forest of Stele. Of course, being an art history major I knew exactly what was in store. Can you imagine a forest, a whole army of stele geometrically organized like a battalion of past history? We wandered in and amongst the rows upon rows of stone, many stacked atop stone turtles. Here we are on the other side of the world and what should we find – TESTUDO! Okay, so not really Testudo, but it could be his brother. The early morning light gleamed on the blackened surfaces of the stele surrounding small pagodas and delicate silver trees resplendent in orange and yellow drapery of veined leaves. It was a perfect autumn morning as we wandered through the forest with a canopy of sequined branches and the warm breathe of the sun on our backs. Many of the stele were sheltered under pagodas or encased in glass, much of the ancient scripts still visible; I wish I could have read just one, especially those that looked more like rare hieroglyphs.”

The bus headed towards the Museum of the Forest of the Stele, the small paths surrounded with pavilions and plants. The exposed trees caught in the touch of the morning sun coerced the remaining leaves to saturate with a fiery orange color. Perhaps I have missed fall at home and have escaped the gloom emotions that emerge from missing such a colorful vista of foliage by noticing these small replicas.

Hundreds of stele line the inner and outer structures, the original Confucius scripts on many of the tablets. I marvel at the stone turtles at the base, a student in the group remarking sarcastically, “There are thousand year old tablets here and you’re taking a picture of a turtle?” I retort I am an art history major and its none of his business what I’m taking photos of because I won’t share any of them on the public folder. Besides, I say, Maryland’s mascot is the terrapin and the turtles at the base of these stele are almost identical to the Testudo statues on our campus.

Several experts place large paper scrolls over the surface of the tablets and use black ink on large pads to make print replicas for purchase. Their tap, tap, tapping echoes in the hollow interiors of the structure. One of the buildings has been turned into a gift shop and Heather and I soon find ourselves making a purchase for dad, as it is his birthday in two days; even though he won’t receive the gift for another month. As we begin to pay the man, another student walks by and asks us how much he is charging. Fifteen dollars. The student laughs, having just bought the same item for five dollars from the same man. He tells the vendor who appears annoyed with the student to honor that price. Heather and I thank the student when we leave, having caught the man trying to deceive us and offering an unfair deal.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Soon we were on our way for a calligraphy lesson. We mounted the stairs of the university and walked awkwardly down a dark corridor before entering a classroom with wooden benches low to the ground and a Chinese-speaking instructor. I suppose that somewhere in translation her instructions for applying the pigment to the brush were lost and so what should have been small delicate lines and symbols morphed into large bulbous characters on the thin rice paper. The lesson lasted perhaps fifteen minutes, but I would not trade that time for any amount of shopping. Though my calligraphy is far from great it was so interesting to learn about the different aspects of their language and the meanings hidden within each character. Nevertheless I have to say that Megan’s was much worse, we can still laugh at the experience that we have captured so wonderfully in pictures of eachother with our masterpieces or lack thereof!

Megan writes, “We head to a school for a calligraphy lesson, the dark halls imparting a sense of foreboding. Inside the small classroom on low seats we listen to the instructor. She speaks only Chinese and we wait for our guide to translate. The instruction that a little ink goes a long way must have missed my congested hearing as my letters bled over the rice paper into large, monstrous blobs. In the end, we discovered we had written, ‘Good Friends China America.’”

The morning seemed to fly by and at twelve o’clock we were eating lunch at the Silk Road Restaurant in the airport. It seems as if we are always sitting down around a round table with a lazy susan, but at least I can say that Megan and I are getting much better with chopsticks. In fact we even managed to pick up the small peanuts in the chicken, as well as several grains of the sticky rice. Of course, it did take some time, and we still struggled with some dishes, but we are without a doubt heading in the right direction. If we ever figure this out perhaps we will have to buy a nice set of chopsticks.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Before our flight at the airport we went to Silk Road, a restaurant in the airport. By this time the group seemed to have found their friends and familiar faces soon surrounded the tables with lazy susans. At our table Jo-Ellen Jacobs and Gary Jacobs, Martin, an adult passenger, and Betty and Bob. With rice and an assortment of Chinese cuisine it became easy to enjoy the meal, even with the clumsiness of chopsticks.

The flight departed at two-fifty for a two hour and forty minute flight to Beijing. Heather and I were given our tickets to discover we were about twenty rows apart. Disappointed, I boarded the aircraft and soon fell asleep, hoping to feel better upon our arrival.

Heather writes, “Our flight lasted an uncomfortable two hours and forty minutes, Megan sitting at the front of the plane, and me at the back. I have no idea how that happened, but it was very boring and very long. Upon arrival we were greeted once more by the city glowing like a jewel. Our first stop was Tiananmen Square, but the hour bus ride to the city center during rush hour resulted in the first disappointment of the trip. Arriving after seven o’clock, the sky now a deep black, we found the square closed to the public and were only able to step on the corner to take a few pictures before leaving several minutes later. How disappointing to have come all that way to see only the corner, not to mention that you can forget any of the pictures turning out because of the horrible lighting and exposure.”

Ming, our tour guide, directed us to the bus and an hour’s drive to Tiananmen Square. As this famous square closes around seven, it was disappointing to, first, not witness the beauty of the place in the daytime, and second, only be allowed in for five minutes to stand stationary on the concrete slabs. Regardless, it was wonderful to be at this location, the luminescence of shops and signs surrounding the area making visibility better. Everything in the city is lit with more flair than a Christmas tree, though I cannot wait to decorate the boughs with ornaments, some from my travels, upon my return home. Shh!! I said nothing about ornaments!! Shh!!

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We rode directly to Hepingmen Quanjude Restaurant for Peking duck, and you guessed it, another round table with a lazy susan. Dinner was fantastic, especially the duck. The waitress showed us how to prepare the thin pancake with duck, plum sauce, and spring onions, I being given the demonstration wrap. Yum yum. Yet, none of my future attempts matched the proficiency with which she prepared the first, but it was all so delicious regardless of how precise or muddled it turned out. Though I do have to add that I did not enjoy the skin like most, just the meat please.

Megan writes, “After a long flight, a long bus ride, and a short hiatus in the darkness of Tiananmen Square, we departed for Hepingmen Quanjude Restaurant for Peking duck. Our group soon surrounded the same fanciful tables with lazy Susans, the unchanged place settings from our previous meals. After sticky rice, sweet and sour pork, steak, beef, chicken, fish, vegetables, cherry tomatoes, soup and tea, the Peking duck arrived. Sliced chunks of the meat were placed on a tray and added to the hurly-burly of the turning lazy Susan. The waitress snatched Heather’s chopsticks, a technique we were mastering, and used them to construct the Peking duck appropriately. First the thin pancake laid on the small porcelain plate, followed by the duck, the duck used as a paintbrush for the plum sauce, and small strips of onion, concluded with the delicate folding. It goes without saying that after her demonstration we knew how to eat the traditional meal, but did we ever parallel her artistry? No. Either too much or too little plum sauce, not enough duck, or a ripped pancake and the contents were everywhere. It was certainly a memorable and fun experience.”

We checked into the Jianguo Garden Hotel at around nine o’clock, and how wonderful it was to see this place. It is enormous and the rooms are wonderful. Though the carpet is definitely worn in some places, it is clean, and the amenities are amazing. For once I feel completely at ease with the evening portion of our trips and can sleep comfortably.

Megan writes, “With our luggage and pleasantly filled stomachs we checked into the hotel, the best accommodations on the entire voyage. Everything about the room, the furniture, the bedding, the bathroom, even the drawer between the two queen beds that opened to reveal the panel for all the lights, the television and door light. High tech! In this environment, for the first time on the voyage in a hotel, I felt comfortable to fall asleep in the fresh lodgings. And with your mind at ease, sleep comes much more quickly.”

November 15, 2005
The Great Wall of China

It was an early morning with our tour of the Temple of Heaven. Many of the sites are under reconstruction and preservation for the Olympics, and though we wore four layers under our jackets, we decided to purchase a hat to complement our gloves and scarves because of the intense chill. But not just any hat, an Olympic hat, as we were told that it will be much colder at the wall. The Temple of Heaven was under partial reconstruction, though we did walk on the raised portion of the causeway to enjoy the privilege of following in the footsteps of the emperor. After passing the oriental archway we climbed the three tiers to the top of the circular mound where we could stand on the center of the universe, or at least in Chinese philosophy. It was a great photo spot, and we managed to get so many cute snapshots of the both of us.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

We enjoyed an early breakfast with Betty and Bob, as they were the only two from our group awake at six thirty. After our appearance in the hotel dining, the Jacobs arrived as well. For an hour and half we enjoyed conversation, Betty and Bob inviting us to come to their home so they could show us around New Hampshire. Betty laughed, inviting us to their newly purchased home in Florida as well. Well, it seems we have local vacations in the United States planned for some time, Pat excited about meeting us in Annapolis from time to time.

We left around eight o’clock, stragglers from our group boarding the bus, the telltale signs of a late night prominent in their attire and scruffy hairstyles. The Temple of Heaven, our first stop would set the parameters of the grandeur to follow. The expansive gardens surrounding the temple were filled with a maze of trees and locals exercising. Groups of tai chi performers every few blocks, women with flags or fans dancing to music in groups, and people will long calligraphy brushes painting the sidewalks with water as a morning prayer, made this ancient temple more alive. With such a flurry of activity it made it difficult to imagine the temple ever being vacant.

Ming pointed out how the main temple was undergoing renovation, a theme to follow throughout the day. Why so many major sites being restored, the Olympics are coming to Beijing. Even this morning as we entered the temple we are reminded of the event as vendors walk beside you selling baseball and knitted caps with the logo for 2008. It is so exciting to feel a part of this adventure, to pass the Olympic village, and experience the pride of the people as they renovate and restore every surface of hotels and buildings to make Beijing more beautiful than it already has become.

Inside the temple we walk down the center path where the emperor would have paraded down in regal flair. The elevated terrace has a circular platform large enough for one, and we learn this is the middle of the earth in their beliefs. We take turns, Heather, me, Heather and I, Betty and Bob, Gary, Gary and Jo-Ellen, and Martin, standing in this spot looking out at the grounds of the temple, the forest of trees, and the skyline in the distance.

Heather writes, “Finally it was time for the long awaited Great Wall. Though many of the Semester at Sea trips visited the wall, they walked the smoother portions open to tourists, some even with lifts and slides to aid in accessibility. Not for us though, we traveled to the most picturesque spot, which can be translated as not only the hardest to climb, but also the area with no added attractions. Yes, I said climb, and without a doubt we were once again scaling tiny steps to the upper towers. How amazing and exhilarating. The view was beyond description with the hills rolling in smooth waves all around, colorful banners swinging from the parapets. It took almost three hours to climb to the highest tower in sight and back, and still it went on and on and on, though you could never see much beyond the highest peak until you reached the next. It would be incomplete if we did not purchase a t-shirt to mark our accomplishments, a shade of pink with the great wall stretching on and the words, “I Climbed the Great Wall,” in Chinese and in English.”

We depart the temple for our long drive to the Great Wall. At the Ju Rong Guan section, the most difficult portion to climb we are informed, we bundle up in four layers of clothes, socks and shoes, a jacket, a scarf, a hat, and a hood. The wind whips at our faces and penetrates our gloves as we climb. It is a difficult ascent, steep steps like at the temples of Cambodia. There is no top of the Great Wall, no major point you can see stretching for miles and miles. We climb intent on finding such a spot, four, five tower structures, six, knowing we have to turn back in order to return to the bus promptly. An hour climb up, forty minutes down, though the descent is more difficult. With the various steps in random intervals, first steep, then shallow, followed by steep again, it is grueling for the knees and legs to adjust to the various degrees. Beginning to sweat in our layers we are happy to reach the bottom and remove one. Our legs feel like jell-o and we laugh with Gary as the three of us walk, wobble and hobble down the last slope.

We make two purchases before leaving the Great Wall, the greatest gift the photos stored in the 1 GB memory sticks in our packs. It will be fun to compare with any remaining slides at the Great Wall from our grandparents. I wonder if they were at the same section or a different one?

We leave this amazing fortification, a sight I never envisioned correctly for the Dayi Friendship Restaurant. I always saw the Great Wall as just that, a wall. No stairs, no strenuous climbing, no large battlements. The view was incredible from the top, the top of our climb that is, as there are no such concepts as the top of the Great Wall.

Heather writes, “We had lunch at the Dayi Friendship Restaurant and gallery. The most memorable part of the meal happened to be the completion of our chopstick training and our promotion to masters. I cannot believe that I can finally use chopsticks. As soon as we get home we are definitely going to Lee’s Hunan so that I can show off my skills. After lunch we purchased our very first set of beautiful chopsticks, in addition to an inkpot for the inkpad that we bought with our chops. It is going to look so pretty on our bookshelves at home.”

At the restaurant we fall into our usual formations, enjoying the foods of the region, always the same sticky rice and delicious cuisine. We laugh with the absurdity when our guide tells us in China there is only Kung Pao Chicken, not like in the United States with Kung Pao Shrimp, Kung Pao Pork, Kung Pao this and Kung Pao that. This is an American convention it seems, as anything marketable in the states can commodify a culture. The meal is fantastic, as always in China, and the proportions are even more enormous than what they squeeze into those cardboard take-out containers in the United States.

Attached to the restaurant is a large store and Heather and I browse for several items, a decorative container for our chop inkwell and a fancy pair of chopsticks among them. As we have now mastered the technique, rather clumsily but still mastered, we are excited about using these utensils even more in the future.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

After lunch we went for a tour of the Summer Palace. During the ride thirty of the forty students decided that they would rather shop than see another palace and practically demanded first, that we only spend fifteen minutes at the palace and then go to the market instead, or second, that the bus take them to the market and the ten of us that wanted our scheduled hour and forty five minutes at the palace pay for a taxi. Can you say, “I don’t think so?” Needless to say our wonderful trip leaders took care of everything and upon arriving at the palace thirty students ditched the tour to “go to the market, and buy nine strands of pearls.” We heard about these pearls for the entire trip, and several other things such as, “Ming, how far is it. Ming, how long is it going to take? What I am saying, Ming is are we going to have time to see the Palace and shop? How much is that going to cost us Ming? Can’t the bus just take us straight to the market, Ming?” Irritating right?

The Summer Palace was situated on a lake with towering pagodas peeking above the trees on the far shore. Small traditional boats, painted red with beautiful tapestries and lanterns were a perfect accent in the setting sun. The queen’s large marble boat sat perched like a beached whale on the shore. The Long Corridor was completely under reconstruction for the Olympics, though we did get a few glances, and a short walk in a small portion of the corridor. I have to say that I was saddened by the closure, but I felt even worse seeing the beauty and vividness being recaptured with the reconstruction. It seems so much more like a royal palace with its ancient patina, than the vibrant colors of a fresh coat of paint and patched planks on the ceiling. If only they could preserve the palace as is and not through a complete facelift. I suppose that is the art historian in me that wants things to stay the same. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.

Megan writes, “From this delicious meal we departed for the Summer Palace, a drive of about an hour. During the drive students began to discuss plans for the evening, attempting to coerce our tour guide to the back of the bus to convince him to change the itinerary. He inquired about how many people wanted to go to the market and shopping destinations instead of the Summer Palace. About thirty-five students raise their hands, leaving ten people.

We arrive at the Summer Palace for sunset, walking the long terrace, the actual structure covered over for renovation. We peeked over the railings to catch a glimpse of the grandeur, sad that we could not view the Palace in its entirety. The lake reflecting the orange sun and the circle of bare trees; it is tranquil and calm here. We reach the end of the terrace, the completed gate and main complex announcing their glory. They have been refurbished, their vivid colors and sparkling gold mimic the colors of the surrounding landscape – the blue of the lake, the gray of the clouds, the red, yellow, and orange of the leaves, the gold of the sun, the green of the grass.”

The large group of students has long since left, having departed before even entering the palace. In taxis they head to the market, silk alley, and a recommended pearl store. One girl goes to purchase ten strands of pearls at over one hundred dollars each. It seems Hong Kong and Beijing has become shopping destinations rather than cultural attractions. I did not understand the importance as we had plenty of leisure time that evening.”

The evening was free for our enjoyment and Megan and I would probably have eaten at the hotel and gone straight to bed had it not been for Professor Jacobs. Her husband was meeting some friends from the court system in China, and so she was alone and asked the two of us if we wanted to go out for a while and see the pedestrian street and have dinner. Two blocks over we passed through another high-end shopping mall and out onto a wonderfully lit street. I remember thinking, “Now this is China.” The street was closed off to cars and other vehicles and so you could cross at will through the throng of people. We found this amazing shop with so many handicrafts. Professor Jacobs purchased some really pretty silk bags for her friends to use as laptop cases, while we decided upon a traditional teapot. And the damage, about two dollars for both, but we have seen them everywhere with varying prices. This had to be the supply store. We even found a chopstick shop, and found this beautifully crafted set of five in varying wood tones with rests. We would have bought them but for the small difference in Japanese and Chinese sticks. We have only mastered the flat-ended Chinese sticks and not the thin pointy end of the Japanese. Though the shop sold both styles, the set we fell in love with was strictly Japanese. We are certainly going to keep an eye out in Japan for a set that meets our approval.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Heading back to the hotel we discuss possible options for dinner. Betty and Bob have decided to either stay at the hotel or go to the optional acrobatic show. Gary Jacobs has a dinner and tour of the courthouse as he is a judge in Illinois and arranged to meet some of the judges in Beijing. Jo-Ellen wants to find Mongolian hotpot, a dish she had when she visited the region years ago. And so, we go out for a night on the town with Jo-Ellen, just the three of us.

We walk the chilly streets, crossing the pedestrian bridge to the Malls at Oriental Plaza. We walk through the mall, an astonishing display of designer brands and outrageous prices. On the other side, the mall opens into an “Avenue at White Marsh” experience. Shops line the street, no cars. We enter a craft store, finding wonderful prices. Jo-Ellen picks up five silk bags for laptops as Christmas gifts, all one dollar. We find a table with ceramic teapots, a special material used to keep the liquid steaming for hours, all one dollar and beautifully made. It is wonderful to discover this authentic shop where prices are just right. We enter a hat shop, Jo-Ellen trying on some crazy styles.

Heather writes, “Suddenly we found ourselves wandering down an authentic alleyway of handicrafts and vendors. It was so amazing, like something from a movie with bright lanterns and banners in all shades and colors with Chinese characters elegantly painted in black. The shops sold traditional Chinese cuisine, some of the more memorable offering grilled corn on a stick, and seahorse kabobs. My mouth dropped open on that one, as the cute little seahorses were perched delicately on the wooden skewers. During our adventures we discovered a small shop with silk jackets. But the price was exorbitant, forty dollars each and so we once more relied on our bargaining techniques. The trick is that you have to be willing to walk away without, and we were on several occasions. But in the end a nod from Professor Jacobs at the final price of forty-three dollars for both, and we had stunning jackets in a deep wine and a brushed celadon, both with gold silk lining visible around the collar.”

From the shops we diverge into a lit alleyway. Red lanterns and colorful banners are hung across the road. We are the only foreigners and we are greeted with corn on the cob, seahorse kabobs, and other strange cuisine. A puppet show is performed at the end, and after some looking and taking in of the picturesque environment we depart in search of Mongolian hotpot.

At last, and after two restaurants later, the second with a not too pleasing or appetizing menu of lamb testicles, cow brains, and other strange innards, we find the place. In the hotel, and down a hall, we enter a restaurant feeling more like a sauna with nothing but Chinese men and one American businessman. We sat at a table, ordered the hotpot with beef, peapods and cabbage. Chopsticks in hand we dipped the food into the boiling pot, removing minutes later to eat. The delicious and juicy meat and perfectly cooked vegetables were fantastic. I look forward to trying to find some equivalent in the United States. It adds a new dimension when you dip your own food and eat with chopsticks. Later, the businessman joined us; he is from Washington DC and we enjoyed his company.

Heather writes, “It was time for dinner by this point and so we found ourselves searching for the Mongolian hot pot restaurant suggested by our tour guide. One of the bellboys took us to a restaurant behind the hotel, but it was absolutely, positively not right. I don’t even want to utter the menu, but it did include cow brains and testicles, a special medicinal soup with various animal parts and other not so favorable dishes. We left that establishment pretty fast and returned to the hotel feeling at a loss without our hot pot. But there it was, right in the hotel, filled with Chinese men, and now three, just three white women. It was so warm like a sauna and we peeled off the layers. We have to find a place like this in Maryland. We ordered the choice cut beef, bean pods, and Chinese cabbage, with sesame sauce. A tray of various fresh herbs and an enormous copper pot was carried to our table, joined shortly by bean sprouts, cabbage, and very thin slices of raw beef. This is where the chopstick skills were really put to the test. First we dumped in the herbs and then picked up the beef with our sticks to drown them in the boiling broth. It cooked in seconds and it was the most unbelievable meal, even the cooked sprouts and sweet cabbage. It has probably become one of my favorite meals and I think that we are going to have to go for a trip to Williams and Sonoma to purchase one for home.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Afterwards we showered and hit the sack for our early morning checkout. I am not sure how to compare all of the experiences that we have had, but certainly today was a real highlight of the trip, but like I said there are so many.

November 16, 2005
Happy Birthday Joe!

I have thought a lot about today and really wanted to call home to wish dad a happy birthday. Hopefully upon our return to the ship we will find the phone cards once again in supply and can even sing for him, though Megan’s voice is slowly disappearing from the cold.

We were scheduled to depart at eight o’clock but found that one student did not return to the hotel last night, and so it caused a huge fiasco to decide whether to leave his bags and
plane ticket or not. Eventually we did leave without the student in question for our tour of the Forbidden City. Our goal this morning was to purchase two more Olympic hats as we made the discovery that one of ours has the year 2006, turned into 2008, and not 2008.

Arriving at the Forbidden City we were given audio guides as we walked through the palace. It was beautifully preserved and I enjoyed all of the broad vistas of bright red pagodas. The site was expansive, crossing from one platform to the next, one courtyard to another, and one landscaped garden to the next. Everything was so green and so red and so yellow. The tour was enjoyable, but for the first time on this trip I was too cold regardless of all my layers and precautions. Near the end I lost circulation in my hands and was ever so glad for the conclusion and the warm gift shop, and another cup of hot tea.

Megan writes, “It is frigid, more bitter than I can ever imagine and as we tour the Forbidden City, it becomes more difficult to enjoy its beauty. We purchase hot tea, although it is not very good, just to warm our hands. After an hour and a half, even in the enormous complex with its grandeur, we are ready to leave for the airport. Our flight is at twelve fifty-five, but we soon discover it has been delayed three hours. In the airport we wait, eating our boxed lunches. The time passes slowly, and still we wait.”

Back on the bus we were joined by our missing student, only to discover that another was abandoned at the palace. We arrived at the airport, with little time before our flight to check in, collect our tickets, pass through security, and board the plane. We waited in line forever to collect our tickets individually. Once at the counter we requested seats together, though we were given seat 41C and 41D, it took quite some time to convey that the plane was enormous and that we were not aisle seats but in the middle. A student behind us got quite impatient and a Chinese man practically told him off and laughed, saying, “If they requested seats, then they should have those seats. They waited just as long as you to check-in; they are at the counter, you are in line. Be quiet and wait your turn.” Bravo! I could not have said it better myself. At our gate we discovered a three-hour delay to our flight, which means an eight o’clock arrival in Hong Kong and a forty-five minute ride to the pier. It was definitely cutting it close to the nine o’clock boarding time, though a flight after us would arrive around eleven.

Megan writes, “We board the flight at three, wait another hour till four, and finally lift off for our four-hour flight to Hong Kong. Back in Hong Kong we arrive at the pier. It is eight forty and all students are supposed to be on by nine o’clock. We wait, and wait, and wait, till ten twenty. At last, we lug are purchases and carry-ons to our room. The dining hall has been left open for us and we quickly eat dinner. Soon after, we fall asleep in the comfort of our cabin. It has been a long amazing trip, one I am not soon to forget.”

We made a quick stop at the Olympic shop for t-shirts before relaxing in the lounge and eating our boxed dinners. The flight was nearly four hours and Megan and I sat in the very last row. After landing we went through customs and immigrations, making a quick stop to pick up one item at the airport, and finally arrived at the ship around eight forty five, though we waited in line for nearly one and a half hours to have our bags checked. The dining room was still open and so we enjoyed a quick dinner and a phone call home before bed.

Pictures from Cambodia and Vietnam

Cambodia Bound

*The first journal entry has been revised. Underneath is our adventure in Cambodia. Enjoy!

November 5, 2005
Ho Chi Minh City’s Temples and Churches

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Meandering up the Saigon River, swerving around corners, left, then right, then right again, we enter the city, rice paddy hats swaying from outstretched hands of women on the docks holding a welcome sign and twice as many parents from the parent trip. Seeing them brings me to the realization of how much I feel away from the familiar. News, cuisine, television, movies, music, and more importantly family and friends. There is such a sense of disconnection, even though the ship has become a home, a closely-knit community. Just today as we sat in the Union, Bob brings Betty, Heather, and I into a small circle to say how much we have meant to their trip, Betty smiling and trying to hold back tears. She’s not ready to say goodbye, like us. To wake up in the morning with the undulation of white caps and foamy surf out your window – the occasional whale whose blowhole erupts on the horizon like a volcano spewing bubbly spray, or the rainbow ribboning across blue sky and feathery clouds – is such an experience, too perfect and beautiful in its entirety to be here for a semester and not a two week cruise.

Heather writes, “At eight thirty in the morning the pilot and twenty four other miscellaneous passengers including immigrations, customs, and embassy officials, pulled along side the rear of the Explorer and climbed aboard via ladder. I can only imagine crossing that small void of blue water and clinging to the silver rails to board the vessel. It took three hours to navigate the Saigon River, meandering to the right and then the left around and around and around in some maze known only to the captain and his first mate. We watched as the ship spun on its axis to swerve around tight corners, all the while both port and starboard mere meters from the green shore. Sampans rowed along the river, their occupants waving excitedly as we passed until finally after our three-hour tour we approached the pier in what was quickly becoming monsoon conditions. Along with a dozen or so Vietnamese girls in traditional dress and rice paddy hats we were greeted by a small army of rice paddy hat clad parents, though quite wet I would imagine. They waited in the pouring rain for the ship to dock, at least an hour or more before students emerged from the bowels of the vessel. I started to cry looking out the window, wishing that mom and dad had been there. It makes me think that we only have three ports left, which sounds like nothing in comparison to the eight that we have already experienced. Yet, at the same time we really only have a month, almost thirty days, but it seems like just yesterday that we were celebrating the half way mark of the voyage. Oh, how I wish that I could give a great big hug to mom and dad!”

At the pier, it started to pour, monsoon really, the parents taking cover under a green roof, their paddy hats looking a little like those peculiar and ridiculous personal umbrellas worn on the head. Some opted for the torrential downpour to wave up at their son or daughter and blow kisses. Looking out the window of the Union where my trip waited to disembark once the ship was cleared, I teared up, and even though they were not my parents, they were parents, something familiar.

It took nearly two hours of waiting for our trip to depart, a hiatus in the rain a nice surprise to get on the bus and head on our temple tour, seven distinct centers of religious worship. Betty and Bob was on our trip, providing company on our tour, as well as Sony, the videographer. It was obviously not her day, as the third stop she managed to step on a pile of leaves while filming for the Semester at Sea Fall 2005 video, and seconds later was being bitten by hundreds of red ants. She ran into a corner where some female students surrounded her, holding up their shawls as she removed her shirt, everyone wiping and brushing the ants off as they clung to her skin. Later in the day, her viewfinder on her large camera broke off. With a smaller camera on the ship, she will still be able to film, and hopefully some repair can be made on the original.

At a mosque it was interesting to read the translations of the signs, “No Femininity Allowed,” and “Area for Mankind.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

At last we made our way down the two-story gangway in the rain around two-thirty for our trip to Ho Chi Minh City’s Temples and Churches and the jubilant crowd of parents. Right at the terminal there is a small hut selling rice paddy hats; I think you can guess what we bought dad and his two favorite girls! We even got a small one thrown in, which happens to fit Bearing, so of course now Awoo has to have one. The city seems very clean and cosmopolitan, with the juxtaposition of small venders in rice paddy hats lining the streets selling fruits to the suit and tie businessmen riding in swarms on motorbikes. Our first stop was a Muslim mosque and I was so excited about the cute little street less than ten minutes away lined with the most wonderful array of shops; you have never seen so many cute shoes, purses, and Asian clothes in one place.

There was a beautiful pool at the mosque for their ceremonial baths and the afternoon sun shining through the clouds dappled the greenish water with a ghostly white reflection of the scalloped arches. We only spent fifteen minutes at each of the temples or churches and so with seven such stops on our itinerary it was indeed a whirlwind tour.

Megan writes, “Yellow, blue, and green plastic buckets, the color of crayons, were on the tiled ledges around the pool. With the scalloped arches it felt like an extravagant bath and would have been perfect with an array of bubbly soaps, oil, fragrances and a Jacuzzi whirlpool. Of course, such relaxation was not to be found at this mosque, as fifteen minutes would have been far to short a time.”

Pretty soon we were on our way to the Notre Dame Cathedral and the statue of the Virgin Mary. On our way we passed the Ba Chieu Market in the Ben Thanh District where baskets of squid and octopus sat on tables, grains of rice and stacks of fruit gleamed on the shelves, and row upon row of flowers bloomed like the smiling faces of the people. At the Cathedral a large crowd had gathered at the statue to see the newly discovered teardrop on Mary’s face. They stood staring at her, singing under the blue sky in the presence of the Cathedral. At the front of the church a wedding party gathered for pictures, the bride in the prettiest gown, the blackest hair, and the reddest lips. She looked so happy.

Megan writes, “The slightest variance in the stone indicated a gentle tear rolling down the cheek of the Virgin Mary. It reminded me of the image in the news that had appeared on a bridge and a large congregation had formed around her statue, dwarfed by the presence of Notre Dame Cathedral.”

Inside the church the stained glass windows cast small dots of color on the wooden benches and in small alcoves stood stone elephants displaying fresh cut flowers. In fact everywhere you look in Vietnam at the churches and temples you can see the elephant statues like Nanas, which is now sitting in Megan’s room. Is it possible that she got it here? I have taken to documenting many of them and have even found a store not ten steps off the ship that sells them. The bride marched down the aisle as we watched and it is hard to imagine what type of reaction so many foreigners appearing at an American wedding would produce. As it was she seemed undisturbed by our presence and did not even mind the click of our shutters as we snapped a shot.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

It was such a wonderful opportunity to visit the various mosques, temples and pagodas. Many were small and dark inside, the camera illuminating the inner recesses and providing a wonderful ‘second viewing’ once downloaded to the laptop, as small beaded items like turtles on fabric and marble elephants pop into sight in lucid and bright details. At Notre Dame Cathedral a bride in the most elaborate gown, ruffles of silk undulating in a long trail walked down the isle and at the Saigon Central Mosque, a funeral ceremony was taking place, a monk chanting in loud syllables to the ding dang dong of the bell.

From Notre Dame Cathedral we were on our way to Cong Tam Quan Pagoda, banyan trees’ roots digging into the green of the grass, their vines hanging like a canopy, an umbrella in the rainy weather. Inside the spirals of hanging red incense, bizarre at first as I wondered what they were, made the empty complex seem more like a bright festival. Piles of soot from the burning had fallen to the floor. Red banners, and fabric umbrellas glittered in the light of candles, many with beaded turtles and birds. The smell, a smell so distinct I can only compare it to the aroma of Autumn and cold mornings with chimney smoke, proliferated and seemed to breed in the enclosed space, the swirls of smoke circling in the air like small tributaries of a stream and branches of a tree.

Heather writes, “Our next stop was the Cong Tam Quan Pagoda, but before entering the grounds we had to cross the street, which would not be worth mentioning if it were your typical Western street with crosswalks and stop signs. Okay, so there are crosswalks, but pedestrians just start walking and keep edging their way across. Don’t stop, just keep going, take a tiny pause as another bike zooms past and keep going. It is very literally a throng on motorbikes zipping and buzzing down the street, as you and your companions cling to each other digging your nails into the others arm. Ouch! Perhaps, I forgot to mention the hundreds of motorbikes, but certainly keeping next to the tour guide is the smartest idea. I guess that the only thing that would come close is trying to cross the street during the peak hours on the busiest street in New York City.

The temple was dark and intricately decorated, red spirals of incense twirling on the ceiling with silk banners sequined in every color of the rainbow. Every surface was lit in the ambiance of a candle, with brass figures reflecting the light. I just loved all of the tapestries and beading, at the end of the temple a small pool draped with the red silk and green fronds – a rather large fish swimming lazily in its depths.”

The one large fish seemed to engulf the cement pond, his large lips seemingly more caricature-ish of a cartoon fish about to eat an enormous worm. His eyes gazed up at the surface of the water, and at us, as we stared back.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

After crossing the street once again, a task repeated many times during our trip, we made our way to the Dai Glac Pagoda. It was very dark inside and rather small for the size of our group. I have to say that I was disappointed by the almost Las Vegas like display of lights adorning the shrines, as if the Buddha statue were some musical legend or Hollywood star of the silver screen. Sony, the videographer found herself covered in red ants, and I guess it is best to say that modesty was the first to go as she ran to a corner surrounded by girls from our group with shawls, wraps and jackets to create a wall of privacy as she sought to rid herself of the crawling, biting, and itching bugs.

Megan writes, “From Dai Glac Pagoda, a funny name I think, rolling off the tongue as you say ‘glac’ sounding like goop, like some sort of a sticky, gummy mess, we left for the Saigon Central Mosque. A funeral ceremony had began, the loud chanting of the monk in melodic tones seemingly had an effect on our group as we entered, feeling so awkward as we stood, we joined the already large procession and sat on the floor, shoes having been left outside.”

Next we found ourselves at the Saigon Central Mosque whose stairs spiraled into the treetops cast like silver in the glow of the evening hours. We walked inside to the chanting of voices to sit cross-legged on the tiled floor to watch a traditional funeral. I was surprised at the display of wealth on the central shrine and the people sitting on the ground with their arms held in prayer.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

One of the last temples we visited in the dark of night was the Cao Dai Temple, in which we walked up three floors to the top where silk blue and white checked pillows were scattered geometrically across the floor, hundreds piled in the corner, mimicking the glittering silver stars on the blue ceiling. There were 3,600 stars, because I counted them all while I was there. Of course I am only joking, as the tour guide explained at the time this temple was built it was believed that there were 3,600 countries in the world, and 3,600 different people. These small silver flecks seemed to twinkle even more in the darkness surrounded the opened windows, candles flickering on the ceiling responsible for this light show.

Heather writes, “On our last stop we went to a Cao Dai Temple, which was painted in the most vibrant of hues. Most notable was the sweeping blue and white clouds on the scalloped ceiling and bright pink lotus flowers. Three thousand six hundred silver stars decorated the sky and the columns were sculpted in three dimensional flowers and ornamentation. Blue and white silk checked cushions lined the tiled floor all the way up to the central shrine. At last our tour came to an end near dark and we headed back to the ship. After our return we wrote some long emails home and as you have already found, a schedule of our Cambodia trip. It has been a very long day and I have a feeling that the days are only going to get longer. I am very excited about Cambodia, but anxious to see our accommodations and hesitant to leave the comfort of our shipboard home and community. It is just such a wonderful place to return to every night and live in such a clean and well-kept environment. Good night for now, good night home, and good night Viet Nam.”

After such a whirlwind experience we were exhausted and ready to hit the sack. Because our departure to Cambodia was at four o’clock in the afternoon the following day we were content to enjoy a couple extra hours sleep and take our time packing and preparing the cabin for our return. The drive back to the ship was exciting in the dark, the illumination of shops and the market, the center and opera house, the silk shops and docks. Because we have not been able to obtain a ticket and how excited we have become with the idea of shopping in the city, that is most likely what we shall do in the last day. Cambodia here I come.

November 6, 2005
Cambodia Awaited

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

From the prior meandering up the river to Saigon, boat people anchored in rows along the shore, to the parents beaming up at the blue behemoth of the MV Explorer and waving in the torrential sheets of rain, it is hard to imagine that at four o’clock today we will depart from Vietnam, immigrations and custom forms in hand, to have our passport stamped a dozen or more times upon our exit from this country and entrance into another. A visa to Cambodia with be glued to the passports jumble of stamps and forms, the little blue creature consuming imprint after colorful imprint from each country.

As I sat in the Union waiting for the ship to be cleared I learned to make origami paper cranes for a project involving the entire shipboard community. The goal, one thousand of these colorful little birds are to be hung in strands of ten in the Union for our arrival in Japan. A Japanese girl, diagnosed with leukemia set upon making one thousand cranes before the end of a year, and as she grew sicker could not finish the task. Family and friends, even strangers joined in the project. Each year since that time one thousand cranes are made each year to honor her memory. Sitting near the window Heather and I made eight cranes each, blue, pink, and green birds with fanciful wings, birds who will soon take to flight in Purser’s Square.

Heather writes, “It was a very lazy morning packing our bags and leaving the last messages for home before our departure at four o’clock in the afternoon. What luck that we did not have to wake up at the crack of dawn for an early morning flight. We packed, the carry-ons similarly light with extra room for souvenirs from our trip, though one slightly heavier with the added weight of my laptop. Last night we finished storing all my files on a compact disc and ensuring that all of the pictures were indeed present and accounted for on Megan’s laptop that will remain on the ship. We also charged both the laptop and the three extra batteries for my camera in the extreme case that we are unable to use the outlets at the hotel because of the voltage, and so we are feeling pretty secure in the fact that if one camera battery dies we still have two more to take thousands of photos.

Reporting to the Union several hours early, we attempted to finish our blog about our first day in Vietnam, but alas time was short and so as you have noticed only about half of the day has made it to public eyes. We decided to fold some paper cranes, especially because we are becoming experts, and made around a dozen in the hour or so before our group departure for the airport. The shipboard community is preparing to decorate Purser’s Square with one thousand paper cranes before our arrival in Japan, strands of ten cranes in various colors hanging from the ceiling. Yet thus far we have probably only made one hundred as a community, though the crewmembers have made a ton and they are truly beautiful. They must have had a lot of practice.”

After spending the morning packing and washing some laundry for our return, we headed to the Union for departure. Soon enough we were plodding down the two-story gangway, carry-ons and daypacks laden on our shoulders, blue jeans, flip-flops and a T-shirt from India becoming sticky in the humid heat. Nevertheless, we managed the two flights, the small walk to the bus, and the lugging, tugging and pulling to drag the bags out of the aisle and under the seat. Our first stop, Novotel Garden Plaza Hotel for dinner before our flight. This magnificent hotel, whose chandeliers and light fixtures gleamed on the hardwood, the marble tiling, and the banisters, had one genuine demise as a communication glitch left them unprepared for our meal. Owing to our empty stomachs, the lack of food, and an appetite announcing itself with the grumbling and gurgling, we departed the fanciful hotel for the airport, dinner in the near future.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

At last we departed for dinner in Vietnam at the Novotel Garden Plaza Hotel. What a beautiful hotel; I only hope that we are staying at an equally wonderful place in Cambodia. It was pure grandeur with marble floors, plush sofas, glass sculptures, and flowing fountains throughout the lobby and restaurant. But this would have to be the first disappointment of the trip, as the hotel had no idea that we were coming and were not prepared for our early dinner. So we climbed aboard the bus once more, watching as we passed equally as elegant restaurants, but we only drove straight to the airport for a quick bite to eat before our seven o’clock flight via Vietnam Airways. I was so disappointed about having to eat airport food after seeing that elaborate display at the hotel, but we were given a fifteen dollar refund to our shipboard account upon our return; we just wished that those fifteen dollars could be held in our hand to prevent the dwindling of our cash for this trip so early. We found a small Vietnamese restaurant at the airport and ordered two beef noodles, which were fantastic, and then bought some milk chocolate and dark chocolate toblerones for our one-hour flight.

One more stop before boarding the plane brought us to a Clinique counter in search of eyeliner. It was never really deemed an essential, but Megan’s lessons to teach me the skill of applying the black liner had resulted in the breaking of her only stick, and so I was very glad to finally replace the loss – and of course so is she. I suppose that I will require many more lessons, but will perhaps wait until I am on solid land once again to learn.

Finally we boarded VN849 Vietnam Airways to Siem Reap, I with a window seat and Megan right beside me. My cushion was deplorable, covered in black stains and falling away from the frame of the chair, but I made the best of it and read some articles in the airline magazine about Khmer textiles, Angkor Wat, and silk embroidery, deciding at the conclusion to take both magazines with me for further reading. I was so glad to exit the aircraft in Siem Reap, though it was pitch black and the lighted walkway only attracted thousands of insects, which made me very happy to be wearing a ton of bug repellant.

Megan writes, “After a security checkpoint, immigrations, customs, and long lines, we were finally at our gate, ready to eat. At a small café Heather and I ordered noodle soup, the safest item on the menu comparable to those Ramen Noodle bowls college students seem to hoard in their dormitories for backup meals and late nights. Feeling disappointed in the switch from gourmet buffet to a noodle soup, therefore we purchased some chocolate for the flight and the necessary and incredibly indispensable, vital eyeliner at the duty-free makeup store. Having brought only one on the voyage, as Heather had helped to deplete my supply around Halloween and disappointed in the loss, I was thrilled to be able to purchase some for the remainder of the voyage.

The flight departed for Cambodia around six o’clock to the whirring and swish of air outside my window, the void of darkness enveloping the craft for forty-five minutes. Upon our arrival, the plane descended to the runway, I caught unaware when the wheels touched gravel, thinking we were still making our plunge to the terminal. Our entrance into the building was largely greeted with swarms of bugs, a wait for visas and the immigration line. The two men behind the counter looked up repeatedly at us, smiling, not speaking English but for a few clipped words like, “Same same,” the designation they came to call us upon realizing we were twins. This catchphrase became the label for the next three days as vendors, maids and hotel clerks attempted to communicate.”

Once inside the terminal we waited in line to purchase our Cambodian visas before moving on to customs and immigration. Megan and I stood side-by-side at the customs desk as the two officers peeked up at us, smiling and passing glances. “Same same,” they asked to our acknowledgements. We assumed they meant twins and indeed for the remainder of the trip we were plagued by the verbal rhetoric, “same same.”

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

In the darkness we rode to our hotel, a feat quite uncertain on uneven ground. In the unlit surroundings it was difficult to gauge the appearance of the country, a façade we would have to discover the following morning in the ascent of the sun. The main road was lined with hotels, their Christmas lights lining the architecture, and small glowing globes on lampposts. As we progressed past each one of these mammoth buildings, I longed for sleep, any of them sufficient for this purpose. The smallest, darker hotel became our stop, a rather open building to the outdoors, where geckos and other small night bugs crawled on the faded walls. Thankfully we were placed on the second floor, as this would deter some of those creatures from venturing too far from the outside.

Upon our arrival we were greeted, like an India, with a small token. And while New Delhi had adorned us with leis of fiery marigolds, Cambodia wrapped a colorful scarf around our necks, Cambodia embroidered at the bottom. Even this small token was wonderful, the pink and blue materials quite beautiful.

Heather writes, “We made our way to the Angkor Hotel, curious about our surroundings, but unable to see in the darkness except for the presence of lighted courtyards like a Christmas display as we read the name of the dozen or so hotels that we passed. Each one seemed like a palace and we held our breath wishing to pull into the drive of one of the elaborately lit hotels. At around nine o’clock we arrived at the Angkor Hotel, the naga snake motif decorating the entranceway and large Bayon-like heads spotlighted in the beam s of the hotel windows glaring out over the circular courtyard.

As we walked into the lobby the staff draped our necks in vibrant, sparkling linen scarves printed with the Angkor emblem. Megan got pink and purple, and I blue. It seems as if everywhere you look items are emblazoned with the Angkor temple including the flag of Cambodia. At last we walked to our room, down a hallway, out into the open terrace, and back into the hotel where we climbed the stairs to the second floor, avoiding as many of the sticky green lizards on the walls and ceilings as we passed.”

The hotel had a wonderful lounge at the entrance with a small shop in the rear. Taking a peek at the brimming shelves we found ourselves with several purchases. Among them, a silk top in vivid jewel tones. After trying the top on in the coziness of our accommodations, we decided we would have to purchase several more of these tops. At the conclusion of our shopping spree at this gift shop we left with a ruby red, glowing orange, yellow, bottle green, blue, and amethyst.

Heather writes, “The walls in the hallway were covered in dark wood, and the dark wood of our door creaked open to reveal a nicely lit room with two queen beds, new carpet on the floor, and sweeping curtains. We made down the beds, checked the linens for bed bugs, closed the curtains, showered in the clean bathroom and went to bed. We had to wait fifteen minutes for the water to heat up in the shower, and the appearance of a single mosquito compelled us to spray ourselves once more with deet after our shower. It is surprising how one mosquito can cause so much chaos and aggravation on this trip, but we both slept through the night and awoke with no bites in the morning.”

The trek to the room took us through a winding hallway, across an outside terrace and up a flight of stairs, quite steep to overcome with luggage. The room was decent, perhaps the most comfortable to this point. The water took fifteen minutes to heat, and during this time we turned on CNN to catch up on any available news from home. After a brief shower we found ourselves in bed and soon sleep overtook our wandering thoughts.

November 7, 2005
Angkor Wat – A Mouth of Stone and Shadows

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We awoke this morning around three thirty for our early morning trip in the darkness to Angkor Wat for our sunrise tour. As we drove the fifteen minutes to the temples the sky lightened from black to navy, until we filed off the bus onto the long cobbled causeway of the temple in the rising light of the day. Swirls of pink, purple, and orange splotched the sky like a watercolor painting as we paused to take pictures before entering the gate.

Megan writes, “Beep, beep, beeeeepp. The alarm announces the beginning of a new day, but sleep did not come easy the previous night, and from continual tossing and turning, a three o’clock buzzer seems rather cruel. Fifteen minutes to heat up the shower and a brushing of teeth from bottled water, it is around five o’clock that the tour bus departs. We wait for the distribution of temple passes, the sky growing lighter as we pull up to the main entrance. Pools of water still litter the cobbled walkways, and to avoid them hopping on tiptoes becomes essential. Over the crest of the main temple the sun melts into the warm color of the stone. The orange of the sky, reflected in the lake is like orange juice, taunting us as breakfast will not be until eight o’clock, and the spitefulness of the sun is all too unfair.”

We explored the grounds for over an hour, walking past stone pools, relief columns, hidden rooms, and decorated shrines. Before we emerged from inside the complex a monk approached us with incense sticks, showing us a traditional offering to the stone Buddha before handing each of us an incense to place into the stone vessel already issuing smoke clouds from previous offerings.

At last we climbed into an open courtyard flanked on the far side by the three familiar towers of the Angkor Wat complex. Two foreign tourists had begun the treacherous ascent into the central platform, climbing over one hundred tiny steep steps to the top. Megan and I looked at each other, more in acknowledgement of the ridiculous climb than in agreement of our next plan of attack. But curiosity won out, especially because you cannot climb such temples in Mesoamerica and Latin America today, and even in a flowing skirt we began our climb up into the mouth of stone and shadows. We paused at intervals to take pictures of the beautiful sunrise; finally nearing the summit when we knew that time was short. We began our descent, knowing that breakfast awaited us at the hotel. It took much longer to climb down than up, requiring more concentration, but we finally touched the flat ground once more and made our way back through the cavernous interior to the long causeway and the bus.

Megan writes, “Heather and I made our way to the rear of the temples, stopping to accept an incense from a shrine to stick into the ashes of a vase. The incense circles in curlicues of smoky sweetness like the aroma of an autumn morning. The largest complex at the rear invites Heather and I to climb its numerous steep, thin and crumbling stairs, and with only fifteen minutes to return to the bus, we climb seventy-five percent of the way to a ledge for photos. With a glance down into the complex, nervousness envelops me. How do I get down? One step, sideways, followed by another, a clinch of my hand around my skirt, and yet another step. I descended slowly and mastered the technique that will come in quite handy for the remainder of the day.”

Upon our return to the hotel we traversed the sprawling lobby to the dining room to eat, selecting bacon and toast, as we assumed it to be much safer than the milk or chicken products, especially with the recent outbreak of Bird Flu. After breakfast we decided it was time for a mini-shopping spree in the gift shop and bought the most beautiful silk shirts, which later we determined to buy two more each because of the price. Of course we bought a couple of other items, but that secret is locked up tight, though postcards were on the agenda. We wrote six postcards of which will be sent to mom and dad to be delivered to everyone since we did not have everyone’s address. So watch for Postmaster Cherylie with your postcards. We did not send any in India, but a total of nineteen were sent in Myanmar watch for those and give us a shout when they arrive.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Back at the hotel for breakfast, a brief hiatus from the heat is all too enjoyable. I munch on toast, opting for carbohydrates rather than eggs and milk. After a short meal, the prospect of climbing more stairs firmly engrained in mind, and the excitement of the beauty to come, I mount the three stairs into the tour bus for Ta Prohm. Embedded deep in the jungle and forestation, the bus tilts and leans left, then right, as we swerve on earthen paths. The east gate is a tower of gray stones with a Naga stretched for several yards supported by the hands of headless statues – heads that have long since been stolen for the black market. They are resolute in their task, even when sight has failed their stone bodies and Heather and I pretend to help support the long snake for a photo. Inside we are told to meet the bus in half an hour at the west gate and the group begins wandering the complex. Large trees whose roots have engulfed the structures from the top to the bottom provide some relief from the temperature, but just barely. As a monument of the past it has been left largely untouched from reconstruction. Green moss and weedy plants issue forth from the surfaces. It reminds be of the movie Two Brothers, and it would interesting to find out where it was filmed.

Heather writes, “Following breakfast we boarded the bus, and fifteen minutes later we were at Angkor Wat once again, this time visiting some of the smaller complexes. Our first stop was at Ta Prohm where much of the infringing wilderness was left to overtake the stone ruins. Exiting the bus one of the students splashed through a puddle spraying my leg and skirt in mud without even an apology. It made me so angry, but mostly because they just kept walking like it had never happened. Megan knew I was upset and so before exploring the complex she bought me two t-shirts from Cambodia with Angkor Wat printed on the back. Trees sprouted from the roofs of temples, green moss covered fallen walls like a plush carpet, and root systems poked from the earth inside buildings like ornate sculpture. It was hard for me to see the chaos of the site, and the decay. I dislike not seeing the grandeur of ancient cities, but then again there is always the conflict of restoration and whether or not it is accurate. I suppose that this is the best way to leave it then, but perhaps further conservation would preserve what little remains. Ta Prohm was a veritable maze with many dead-ends sealed over from falling stones. We had entered through the east gate and were to depart through the west, but of course there were no instructions on how to accomplish this, and so pretty soon we found ourselves lost in the ancient city.”

Heather and I manage to become disoriented in the maze of toppled debris, plants like dense curtains, and dark interiors; time is limited and we walk back to the entrance of the inner temples. I ask a guard how to get to the west gate, he points to the east gate. “West,” I say. He directs his bronzed arm in the course we have just emerged from. I ask several others hidden in little alcoves of the core of the structure, each one pointing different routes each time, many in the direction of the east gate. We follow red arrows on signs that take us deeper into the compound only to reverse our tracks and follow another. At last the only route without such a red arrow rewards us. The west gate at last.

Heather writes, “Yet in our trials to exit the complex we saw more than we ever imagined, things that a casual observer would just miss, and so after asking many of the officers how to find the west gate, they would simply say, pointing, “East gate.” Though shortly we did find the way, and all I can say is that we most likely saw many parts of the complex that others did not. Taking pictures can be a very difficult task with so many angles and so much to see. It would be impossible to show someone what it was truly like just in pictures and I only wish that I had more room on the memory sticks to make a short film clip showing the scope of the ruins. I suppose that this is where you will have to enter the realm of imagination to fill in the gaps yourself.”

From the dense foliage of Ta Prohm, a mystical air exudes itself. The bulky roots of the tallest trees I have ever viewed are incredible. They cling to the stones, the ancestry of such trees must clearly be Entish in nature as they appear as feet like appendages grasping the moist earth.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Our second stop was at Ta Keo Temple, a large square complex topped with five towering temples. Of course the only way to get to the top was to climb those tiny steps once again. But with only fifteen minutes we never did make the top, but pretty close. Thus far at each stop we have been told to return at completely different times than the second bus, though our group is supposed to remain together. The trip leader was finally able to correct the differences in time enabling us to remain together as a group.

Megan writes, “Leaving this magical environment for Ta Keo, I am greeted with yet more stairs. Fifteen minutes for a photo stop leaves little time to climb the entire complex. I manage seventy-five percent again as this complex only includes two options. A tourist can either take photography from the exterior or go within the walled complex for this task.”

Several minutes later we arrived at Tommanon with perhaps three smaller temples to explore, and more tiny stairs. It did not take long to see the complex in its entirety and we were excited once more to travel to the larger complex of Angkor Thom with the Elephant Terrace and Bayon. The terrace sat on the edge of a marsh with the wall carved in rows of shadowed elephants.

Megan writes, “It is a beautiful landscape, the recesses of this compound too damaged in some places for access. Green grass spreads around the structure, trees popping up in random intervals. But it is time for our departure and visit to Tommanon and Chaosay Tevoda. The latter is under reconstruction and stands opposite Tommanon. A series of temples dots the landscape, their stone darkened, almost black. Surrounding the cleared terrain is a woodland. It too seems enchanting, just appearing amidst this vegetation, streams of sunlight caressing their damaged fortifications. Like Snow White stumbling upon the home of the Seven Dwarves, this site just emerges from the lushness of its surroundings.”

As we departed the bus I noticed something sharp and tingly on my foot, and looked down to find a red ant clung on for dear life. I shook it off, but not before realizing that my other foot was teeming with the ants as Emily threw my shoe to the ground, Megan shaking the ants free, and Emily and I removing the clinging legs from my foot. I was lucky only to be bit once, but even that caused my toe to swell in red splotches for the remainder of the day. I loved seeing all of the elephant carvings along the long terrace, which of course reminded me of Nana – she would have loved to see this place.

Megan writes, “We depart all too soon for the Elephant Terrace and Leper King Terrace, passing through the South Gate of Angkor Thom, the same headless warriors still bearing the weight of the Naga. Three elephants emerge from the stonework, their trunks lined up symmetrically. At the Elephant Terrace Heather feels a bite on her foot, a red ant on her left sole. Seconds later she realizes they are crawling all over her right shoe and foot. Emily and I help swat them away, Emily cleaning off the flip-flop, I brushing them off her foot. It’s amazing how many small anthills litter the ground. We make our way onto the terrace, observing the row of elephants facing sideways in the masonry. They are difficult to perceive in the crumbling refuse, but majestic all the same.

As T-shirts are only two dollars and actually of good quality, Heather and I buy three each for ourselves, several others perhaps for other people. Hehe! We also purchase a book on Ancient Angkor for eight dollars, but with a price tag inside of thirty dollars, which I wholeheartedly believe as this looks like an art history textbook or Barnes and Noble equivalent.”

Just feet away we climbed up steps once more on hands and knees to see the fifty-four towers of Bayon. How incredible! Each tower was adorned with four faces, one on each side. I have never seen anything so wonderful as we made our way through the raised platform. It reminded me of the Olmec heads, colossal faces carved into the side of each tower. Climbing down the stairs on the far side, two students asked, “Was it worth it, or was it like everything else?” They had walked around the complex on the road, instead of through the temple. “You haven’t seen Bayon if you haven’t climbed to the top,” we said. Can you believe that? They spend all that money to come to Cambodia to see the temples and yet they don’t really even care to see them.

Megan writes, “We headed to Bayon, our last stop of the day where I am greeted with hundreds of four-sided stone faces. Climbing up the steps again, we are soon surrounded by nothing but stone and enormous, intricate heads. This is a dream come true, as it is all so amazing. This site is unique with their numerous heads and Heather and I turned to competition to see who could capture the most heads in a photo. I believe Heather won, with four of the heads, I squeezing in barely three. Can we say, stupid stupas? Now imagine those feelings with the heads.”

Before boarding the bus we made another purchase for dad, and of course at this point I needed a t-shirt with Bayon on the back. You would not believe how inexpensive everything is, and how good Megan and I am getting at bartering. Dad would be very proud of our skills! In fact we had a competition on our bus with the adults to see who could get the most woven bracelets. One student returned with fifteen for one dollar, another an assortment of perhaps eight small and four or five large for two dollars. So Megan takes a dollar, gets off the bus, and comes back two seconds later with twenty for one dollar. I guess you could say that she won the prize.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Back on the bus before heading to lunch one student carried on ten woven bangles she had purchased for a dollar. The vendors had swamped the side of the bus, holding up the bracelets, shirts, shawls, books, and other trinkets. When another student came on with three large bracelets and ten of the small bangles for two dollars, Heather decided she was fond of the little wristlets and taking a dollar from my pocket, I excited the vehicle alone to test my bargaining skills.

“Fifteen for one dollar,” I said, holding up the bill.

“Twenty,” the woman replied, holding up the two groups of ten tied together with a piece of twine.

Boarding the bus I could sense the atmosphere of competition. As the winner, I felt proud have made the best deal, a deal that seemed too easy. Heather was thrilled with my stroke of luck and has called them her bracelets ever since.

Heather writes, “After our morning tour we went to lunch at Viroth’s. It was an outside restaurant with canopy and fans, our table for four sitting right alongside a trickling fountain. It was simply wonderful. We met Jo-Ellen, one of the professors and her husband who has recently joined the voyage, and conversed with them over lunch. She is leading the Xi’an/Beijing trip and he reminded me so much of dad as he joked around with the waiter as if he were bartering for the price of our beverages. At the conclusion of the meal he paid for our sodas and even went to the desk to get a one dollar bill changed into Cambodian currency, giving us each a 500 dollar bill with Angkor Wat imprinted on the back.”

Lunch was at Viroth’s restaurant, a modern outside establishment with sheer fabric dividers and white overhead lights. We were served papaya salad, pork with curry sauce, and rice, the adult passengers sitting with Heather and I paying for our two sodas; not even water was included in the meal. One of them exchanged an American dollar at the counter for local currency, giving Heather and I each a five hundred riel bill, equivalent of a quarter at most. Brand new and crisp, the bill has Angkor Wat on one side in a watercolor of amethyst and ruby red.

Heather writes, “We retuned to the hotel for a brief rest, Megan and I downloading the pictures from the morning before returning to Angkor Wat for sunset. We had a nice rest, slipping into a cool shower to freshen up. It is unbelievably hot and humid, making the thin fabric of my skirt welcome even if it does mean that someone may see up on my way down. Soon we were on our way to the temples once more to see the sunset over Angkor Wat. If there is anything more beautiful than a sunrise it is the sunset, and by this time we were already ascending into the clouds of the final tower, up what seemed like thousands of steps into the mouth of stone and shadows once more. The top complex was much larger than I ever imagined, instead of what I assumed would be a single chamber it seemed to open up room upon room and shrine upon shrine. The sky became smeared in beautiful oranges and pinks, and thus our tour around the small circuit of fifteen kilometers was complete, and we turned back to descend to the ruins below. I have to admit to being sad during our descent, but we clung to the stones, stepping right and then left, right and then left, and right and then left until we reached the bottom. After a huge sigh of relief I looked back and wondered how the time had gone so fast. Will I ever climb this temple again? Will I ever return to Cambodia? If and when I return will you still be able to climb to the top, or will it be in too much decay to appreciate all that I have seen today? I certainly hope I will return, but I can only hope.”

It was a welcome notion from the trip leader who suggested we return to the hotel for an hour as Heather and I had already utilized every space on our camera sticks and this provided the opportunity to download the massive amount of pictures that will have to be organized in the following days.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

That night we went out to dinner at Bayon II for a cultural dance performance and buffet. The accommodations were decent, though it was raining. We were in an open-air restaurant and those tiny green lizards were once again clinging to the ceiling above our heads. Yuck! I ate rice, pork, pineapple, bread, and a number of things from the Cambodian menu that I could not even begin to explain. The performance was beautiful with the women dressed in bright colorful costumes performing the traditional Cambodian dance. At the conclusion we returned to the hotel where Megan and I purchased two more of the silk shirts and went to our room to shower, download pictures, watch the news, and go to bed.

Megan writes, “As the sun traversed across the sky, we headed back to Angkor Wat for sunset. To begin the day early with sunrise at this phenomenal place and conclude with sunset is so poignant. The colors of the sky, like an oil on canvas, mixed with the vista of the jungle and the darkness of shadows from the complex. It was like opening and closing a moving novel and reading the entirety in one sitting, from the issuing sentences of page one to the last fantastic word. Heather and I managed to climb all one hundred stairs the second time at the temple, reaching the summit as the rays of the sun bore into the last remaining surfaces of the complex, flowing in through the open windows and doorways to create an ambience up on the apex of the tower. Below, shadows had began their meal, consuming the interior courtyard into a dark hollowness.

After a forty-five minute hiatus at the hotel, we departed to Bayon II, a local restaurant with a cultural show. Also outside, I was thankful for the cover of a roofed terraced when the rains began to pour. There were long tables ornamented for the meal with folded napkins. The buffet offered an extensive selection of what I would consider non-edible food like frog legs, octopus, fish, strange meats, and lots of cold pasta dishes littered with seafood. After having sat out in the heat, I couldn’t imagine the effect on my stomach. I chose rice and some pork with cashew akin to a Lee’s Hunan. The show was spectacular, for all of its vivid costumes and melodic tunes, but difficult to watch between sheets of rain and conversation over unusual cuisine.

Upon our return to the hotel, we skipped past geckos on the walls, consequently by this point feeling more comfortable with the creatures on the sidewalls as we discovered at Bayon II during our meal a dozen or more of these critters scurrying around on the ceiling, people directly underneath. How frightening it would have been to have one fall. Thankfully, they seem to be masters at this space-walk routine.”

November 8, 2005
Grand Circuit

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

The morning was more leisurely than the previous, no sunrise to contend with and after breakfast, the most delicious looking little donuts covered in sugar, we headed for Tonle Sap Lake. As the temperature began its climb, Heather and I were experiencing the aftermath of day one on the thighs. Barely able to climb stairs, we were relieved to begin the day on a boat tour to observe floating homes and a local village.

Heather writes, “We woke up this morning and reported for breakfast at around seven o’clock; the only two from our entire group present so early. We enjoyed bacon and cinnamon-like donuts, which were delicious. As soon as they brought more out we grabbed some warm ones to stuff our faces. It was the best thing I have had in a long time and it really made me wish for some donuts from Shoppers.”

In the small wooden sampans we traveled upstream to the mouth of the lake, muddy water sloshing around the sides. Children in round metal bowls used sticks to row themselves to our small vessel and beg for money. A brief stop was arranged at a school, our sampan hitting the edge of the building and agitating the floating school. We unloaded into a schoolroom where the students sang a traditional song about hygiene. We returned the gesture by singing “You Are My Sunshine,” their eyes staring at us with confused features. Paintings hung form a string across the ceiling, Heather pointing out the Daisy Duck among others.

Heather writes, “This morning we went for a boat tour of Tonle Sap to see the floating homes and local village. The port was disgusting and smelly, and the boat dirty. I was glad that I had brought my rain jacket packed in its pouch to use as a seat cushion. I felt like the two hours we spent on the lake were a complete waste and had nothing to do with the temple itinerary. It’s not like it had been a bad experience, but the title of the trip was Temples of Angkor, not People and Places of Angkor. Needless to say I was glad when it came to a conclusion. At one point in the trip children in bucket lids with long sticks surfed the waves that our sampan created, but it came at a price later as they swarmed the sides of our boat to ask for money. I really felt like this trip was just an excuse to give money to the kids who should be in school anyway. We stopped at a floating school where the children sang to us, of which we reciprocated with “You Are My Sunshine.” There were colorful drawings hanging from the ceiling and I was surprised to find a very good rendering of Daisy Duck. Before returning to the bus we stopped at a floating shop where the exact same wares were sold as at the temples and it was so frustrating to waste an hour at the shop instead of wandering through the ruins of the ancient city.”

A group of children played in the water, splashing at each other in their barely clad bodies. They appeared so content, but I could not help notice the dirtiness of their conditions. The water most likely utilized for cooking, cleaning, recreation, transportation, and bodily functions, would be unthinkable in Western societies. So many children, particularly little boys were unclothed entirely and without a doubt quite a few of the photos reveal the abundance of undress among the children. Even an elderly woman was bathing herself in the shade of her palm home, the house up on wooden sticks.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We checked out of the hotel around noon and ate lunch, a meal of rice, pork, and bread. During the afternoon hours we explored the Grand Circuit of Angkor Wat laid out in eighteen kilometers. Our first stop took us to Preah Khan where you could see some of the methods used by the people to build the temple. Holes were used to string the stones to the backs of elephants, and it was interesting to compare this with the ledge-like construction used by the Incas to lift blocks into place. At the entrance of the temple a large tree was latticed with wood to keep it from tumbling into the complex, though this was another temple where so much of the original structure lay in piles of green covered moss. We found ourselves at a dead-end with a very small entrance to a small shrine. I thought about entering but was deterred by the abundance of cobwebs. I turned around, doing a three-sixty and crawling into the small shrine anyway. I could not miss it and so Megan joined me; only room for two in the small space. Annie Cleveland took our picture and then we were off to see the remainder of the complex with its three story towers and massive tree growing through the temple like a sword.

Megan writes, “We returned to the hotel for about two hours of R and R or individual sightseeing. Following lunch and checkout we headed to Preah Khan, a dilapidated fortification where Annie Cleveland, a professor, Heather and I took scenic option two through the temple, rather than the shortcut. We discovered a small shrine in a dark cavern, Heather and I crawling through for a photo. Similar to Ta Prohm, this complex on the outer loop, was covered in tufts of moss and towering trees. The sun reflected off the moat and bounced back through the branches.

From this site we traversed outside Neak Pean. The interior is surrounded completely by water, a sub aqua pool for bathing. Caught in the reflection of the water, it seemed quite majestical. With time constricted we left for East Meborn, its only entrances to the interior being stairs. It started to pour in the early afternoon, the bus driver distributing large umbrellas. We climbed the first tier of steps, walking the wall to the elephant statues on the corner. After admiring these stone imitations we climbed to more tiers to the interior complex, the rain dissipating long enough for some photos of the two of us in our skirts. Heather and I searched for a rainbow in the sky, but none was to be found.”

Soon we made our way to Neak Pean to see the five pools. It was certainly a small site dedicated only to the five small pools, though the walk from the bus was quite long we did enjoy some traditional music performed along the way.

Because of time we canceled Ta Som and Pre Rup, which made me so angry because of the wasted time in the morning. Why did we not just return to the temples to complete our itinerary? Our last stop was East Meborn with amazing elephant statuary and once again steep steps all the way up to the central tower. After two days of steps my thighs and calf muscles are so sore, and even my arm muscles from pulling myself up each level. It started to rain, though the sun was still shining, but the tour guide did provide us with enormous umbrellas, though it made it quite difficult to climb the stairs. It made me sick to my stomach to watch as others barreled through openings with their umbrellas scratching the stone. The beauty of this place will not last long if people continue to disrespect it with their careless behavior.

Nearing sunset we made our way to the airport, passing the central complex of Angkor Wat once more. I had to breath deeply several times to prevent myself from crying. I did not want to leave. I have not been so emotional about leaving a place since South Africa and perhaps even a smidgen for Myanmar. I cannot believe it is over.

With our group split into two flights, one at six twenty, the other at seven fifteen, Megan and I found ourselves as the first two on the second flight – so close to being on the first. We bought some ramen noodles, which we believe that both spice mixes ended up in my bowl. My lips were tingling; I could probably have breathed fire. Yet Megan’s was fine. After some last minute shopping for dad we finally boarded our flight. Both the Cambodian and Vietnam airports are very nice, and I was relieved that we did not have any additional security checks like in India. Our plane of course was another thing as it was the smallest thing I have ever seen. Two seats on each side, though it was cleaner than the first, there was so much turbulence that I was thrilled to be on land once more. I don’t ever want to ride in one that size again.

Megan writes, “As we left for the airport, we passed each one of the sites we had visited for the last two days. To the annoyance of several students behind me, I slid open the window to take more photos. The sun was in the perfect position on the temples, fashioning a regal panorama. Our departure was bittersweet. I have fallen in love with this country, the temples I could spend months observing every inch. At the airport we were handed our boarding tickets, Heather and I on the later flight. Half the group left around six thirty, our flight not until an hour later. We had some soup and went through the shop in the terminal, making a last minute purchase from Cambodia. We arrived back late, ordered a pizza from the pool deck and found ourselves in bed shortly after ten o’clock.”

We finally returned to the ship at around nine thirty in the evening and our cozy little room. We grabbed some pizza from the pool bar, followed directly by bed. Goodbye Cambodia. I cannot wait to see all of the photos, and I am sure that I will cry. It was so amazing, I only wish that mom and dad will see it one day and then we can be the experts and show them everything.

November 9, 2005
Shopping Day

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

As the first time Heather and I went out alone in a country, we were slightly apprehensive about the course of the day. We boarded the shuttle into the city, Brianna, an RD on the ship and a graduate of the University of Maryland, informed us of a place to make international calls. For less than three dollars we were given a card with more than two hours. We called home around nine-thirty, meaning it would be nine-thirty in the evening for them on the 8th and were surprised to have no answer. Not once has the phone been unresponsive. We left a message and departed the shop. Before I knew it, Heather had hailed a taxi and was ushering me inside to point out to the driver on a piece of paper the name of the place we were headed.

As he spoke no English, the ride was silent, but just five minutes later we were exiting the vehicle and paying him with fifteen thousand dong, or a little under one dollar. Beth had given us the address of the place she had gone for tailoring and we hoped to find something readymade as the ship would depart that evening. The woman in the shop inquired about what were looking for and when we informed her that we wanted to purchase an ao dai, the traditional outfits worn by women to school, she beamed and took us to a rack of silk fabrics. We informed her we would be leaving that night for Hong Kong and to our surprise she agreed to have them ready by four thirty. We decided to each have two tops made, and one pair of the pants.

Heather writes, “We woke up early for breakfast, leaving our beds unmade for the first time. Breakfast was not so good though, Granola or Shredded Wheat the only cereal options. Soon we were on the nine o’clock shuttle into town. Brianna took us to a phone place to call home and we were so thrilled that for three US dollars we could call home for over one and a half hours. Though we were very disappointed when no one answered as they have never missed our calls and it would have been nine thirty at night.

So we continued on our way to De Tham Street and Beth’s recommendation of Bao Silk. We walked into the shop looking for the traditional dress called an ao dai that the girls where at the university. They are really classy and so we hoped to find a ready made since it was our last day. What luck that the shop owner said she could make them by four o’clock. We decided to have two tops each made from various silk and one pant each made from white silk, which is the custom. The pants zip at the waist and the long sleeve top has an Asian feel and open slits all the way to the waist as well.”

We left after extensive measurements for the Ben Thanh market to find T-shirts and tea. We bought six T-shirts and an army of loose tea. The women at the tea stall pulled up plastic red stools and opened jars of the freshest smelling tea I have seen. Five bags of jasmine, five bags of lotus, five bags of green and one of oolong we paid twenty dollars and even received an additional bag of green tea for our sizeable purchase.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

I was on a roll today with getting taxis and though I was never sure whether I was paying them the right amount, it typically cost about one dollar to get anywhere in the city. Our next stop was at the Ben Thanh Market. First we purchased two bottles of water for less than a dollar, and we both agreed that it was the best bottled water we had tasted for a long while. It is called Joy by Coca Cola. The market was slighting overwhelming as the vendors were much more aggressive than in Myanmar, but we are professionals now at this and so we found ourselves being treated to Vietnamese hospitality at one of the small tea vendors. They pulled out small stools for us and opened each tea for us to smell. They all smelled so good and the fresh leaves looked so different from what we are used to. I think we got a really good deal on Green, Jasmine, and Lotus tea, with the extra bonus of a special quality of Oolong. We bought each in a pack of five for five dollars, so for twenty dollars we have so much wonderful tea. I cannot wait to try them, especially the green because it is mom’s favorite.

Megan writes, “Heather, having a two for two score already with hailing taxis, took the opportunity to blow her own horn when she arranged the third back to Lam Son Square. We retraced our path to the shop for international calls and were thrilled, after waiting an hour, to hear the voices of mom and dad ecstatic to discover we did not have to talk for just thirteen minutes. Two hours later, tales of Cambodia shared, progress of the renovated kitchen, and news of family and their outing to celebrate with our Aunt and Uncle after the town election where our Uncle was defeated for the first time in many years, we said our goodbyes, not wanting to hang up the receiver.

Back on the ship we had lunch and continued to unpack from our Cambodia trip, washing some laundry in the meantime. Around three-thirty we departed on the shuttle once again. Heather hailed the fourth taxi of the day, they swerved on the busy streets left and right as it returned us to the shop where we would pick up our tailoring. As we arrived half-an-hour early we took the opportunity to stroll the street and look in the other shops. At the corner, the sister store of Bao Silk, we decided to test our assumptions on silk wrap around pants that looked marvelous on the mannequin. We had seen these in Mauritius, Heather even willingly let a shop vendor tie one on, as all size fits all. Apparently not because they looked horrendous. These however, were fabulous, just a little too long. The women agreed to shorten them in an hour and for only six dollars apiece the pink and orange silk pants are too cute.”

Before returning to the ship we stopped at the phone place and called home once again, this time at around midnight for home. We had the best conversation and the longest. I really needed it and we were able to tell them all about Cambodia, especially because our Internet time that we just bought has been completely drained. It was so wonderful for once to hear about home. Tell Uncle Doug that we are sorry for his loss and that we only wish that we could have been there to support him with the rest of the family.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

We returned to pick up our delivered ao dais, trying them on behind an almost sheer curtain. Fabulous! Absolutely beautiful. I cannot wait to wear them. They are tailored and sewn so well I am overjoyed. From this shop we strolled past Bao Silk on the corner and entered some shops on that street. One shirt read “Same Same,” on the front, and “But Different” on the back. As this was the motto even Beth had come to call us all week, we knew we had to have one. Three of these shirts for five dollars!! What a bargain.

Once we had retrieved our silk pants, Heather again arranged the taxi within seconds, and we were headed back to the terminal. Five for five, I am clearly not as proficient. It certainly didn’t seem that difficult as the locals would pretty much ask anyone passing by not native if they needed a taxi. Overall, it was a wonderful day and very productive.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Soon we had to say goodbye, which proved very difficult, though the knowledge that we are finally getting closer to home and not farther is exhilarating with only about twenty five days to go! It is hard to believe that in two days we will be in China, Xi’an, and Beijing. I only wish that we could find someway to call home, but just know that on the thirteenth we will be thinking about everyone as we all remember Nana. And she will of course be with us on that day as we see the Terracotta Warriors in Xi’an. Indeed we would love to wish dad a happy birthday verbally, but if it does not happen, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, you can have your presents when we get home! We will be seeing the Forbidden City and flying back to Hong Kong on your birthday and will be thinking about you all day. How OLD are you now?

After our phone call we returned to the ship for lunch and to unpack our bags. We asked Dalphon if he had seen the mess in our room and he laughed saying, “No, it still was not messy.” We got everything unpacked and put away, the accounting complete, and souvenirs labeled before embarking once more into the city around four o’clock. Once more we returned to Bao Silk, though our outfits were not quite complete, and so we wandered up the street in the humid afternoon and the pouring rain. We found a pair of pants in another shop, which happened to be another Bao Silk. And so one hour later they would have them hemmed. It was time to pick up our ao dai and we tried them in the back. They are so beautiful and they fit marvelously. We are very pleased with our purchase and cannot wait to show everyone at home. With a little time left before picking up our last purchase from the tailor we walked around the corner to find a shop selling “Same same,” t-shirts. We were so sad to find that they had no smalls, but Megan insisted that we continue down the street and so one store down we found them, three for five dollars. It just seems so right for the two of us, especially since everyone we have met in this country calls us “Same same,” though the back of the shirt adds, “But Different.”

At last we picked up our silk pants and returned to the ship. I felt so good after today, proving to myself that I could do anything and go anywhere. I was five for five with the taxis, and said, “Megan, I got one, I got one,” after the first one. It feels wonderful to know that you can do anything and that you are in control.

We went to bed early, classes start tomorrow and it is back to the routine for two days before we are off again on a long trip. Ormond tells us that the terminal is wonderful and we hope to find some snacks and perhaps another memory stick for our departure. There is also going to be Gobble Grams on the ship, which are chocolate chip cookies. I would love to find a small laptop, but I could never spend the money knowing how much I am going to need when I return home. It is just not practical.

Before returning to our cabin Bob and Betty invited us up to see their room and it was enormous. The balcony was practically the size of our own cabin. Because they upgraded to the seventh deck they have one of the deluxe suites. Betty showed us all of the clothes that she bought in Vietnam and it reminded me so much of mom showing us what she bought on a shopping trip for herself or for Nana.

November 10, 2005
Goodbye Vietnam

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

This morning we cruised away from Vietnam at around six o’clock as Megan and I watched from our window. It seems as if the city never sleeps, motorbikes already crowding the streets in the early hours. The highlights of the day include more stress with the Internet, and adjusting the clock another hour, making us thirteen hours from home.

The Internet has been one hassle after another, as they wanted me to calculate the exact time on ship because the logs are set on a different time. So we did that and by the end of the day they had credited my account seventy eight dollars for our three hour and fourteen minute loss. It does not make sense to me why the did it this way and not just add the minutes back on because it means that I have to purchase another account for one hundred dollars and lose twenty two dollars. I think it is really all about them making money, which is why everything is so strict with what constitutes an actual refund. The IT student told us after we log off to input a false name so that it does not remember our account when the next person logs in. It makes sense of course, but why not just make it so that the computer does not remember anyone’s username?

There is no cultural pre-port tonight, so they will be combined tomorrow. We did some laundry this morning and read the remainder of our Global Studies work for the semester. We also repacked both suitcases full of gifts and made a spreadsheet of what everyone had gotten thus far. Wouldn’t you love to get your hands on that Cherylie Girl?

We took all of the cranes that we had folded down to the box and saw the beginning of the strands going up in Purser’s Square.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Below is the itinerary for our ONLY five-day trip on this voyage converted to pollywog time for your convenience:

November 12, 2005
3:00 pm Depart Pier and transfer to Airport to flight MU 204 to Xian.
6:00 pm Flight leaves airport.
8:15 pm Arrive in Xian by flight MU 204. Meet and greet at Airport then transfer to Jianguo Xian Hotel to check in. Overnight.
November 13, 2005
08:30 am Breakfast at Hotel.
09:30 am Visit the Big Wild Goose Pagoda.
10:30 am Shaanxi Provincial Museum.
12:00 pm Chinese lunch at Rongshengzai Restaurant.
02:30 pm Tour of Terra Cotta Warriors Museum.
05:30 pm Return to Hotel.
06:30 pm Depart Hotel for the spectacular Tang Dynasty show and dinner.
09:00 pm Return to Hotel and overnight.

November 14, 2005
09:00 am After breakfast depart Hotel for sightseeing.
10:00 am Calligraphy lesson in the Museum of the Forest of Stele or free time at leisure.
12:00 pm Chinese lunch at Silk Road Restaurant at Airport.
01:15 pm Arrive at Airport and take flight CA 1235 (ETD 2:45) for Beijing.
04:20 pm Meet at Airport then transfer to have tour.
05:20 pm Tour of the Tiananmen Square.
06:15 pm Check in Hotel.
07:00 pm Depart for dinner.
07:15 pm Peking duck dinner at Hepingmen Quanjude Restaurant.
09:15 pm Overnight at Novotel Xinqiao or similar.

November 15, 2005
08:00 am Depart Hotel for tour after breakfast.
08:15 am Tour of the Temple of Heaven.
10:45 am Sightseeing on the Great Wall – Ju Rong Guan section.
01:15 pm Chinese lunch at Dayi Friendship Restaurant.
03:15 pm Tour to Summer Palace.
05:45 pm Return to hotel and dinner at leisure. Overnight.

November 16, 2005
08:00 am Depart Hotel for tour after breakfast.
08:30 am Visit Forbidden City with headset and tape.
11:00 am Arrive at airport and pick up lunch box
12:55 pm Depart by flight CA 109 (ETD 12:55) for Xian.
04:25 pm Arrive at Hong Kong Airport. Local representative will hold a ‘Semester at Sea’ sign to meet you at Arrival Hall B. Transfer to Ocean Terminal to board MV Explorer.

Beijing Accommodations:
Jianguo Garden Hotel
No 9, Jiang Guo Mennei Avenue
Beijing, 100005, PRC
Tel: (86 10) 6528 6666

Xian Accommodations:
Jianguo Hotel Xian
No 20 Jinhua Road, Xian
Shaanxi Province, PRC
Tel: (86 29) 323 8888

It would be wonderful to disembark from the ship early on Saturday before our trip departs as we have read the Explorer gangway will converge on the pier with the Ocean Terminal, a selection of shops and restaurants. Do I hear the buzzword, shopping? Electronics, clothes, and accessories, here I come!!! Actually, it would be fantastic to have the opportunity to just have an hour for some essential shopping, perhaps camera or electronically related, as well as to glance outside the terminal mall at the streets as we will have no time upon our return from the northern section to experience this port.

As the hour pocketed once again by the persistent hands of the alarm clock, a now thirteen hours from home, we have been engaged in the most hectic portion of this voyage. It seems like late nights are all to customary and frequent between ports, squeezing in every spare second to organize photos, journal, read, study, work on papers and do laundry. All this accomplished between classes, pre-port orientations and logistical meetings, not to mention I seem to be fighting a cold. Robitussim cough gels have come in handy, my throat seemingly sore and scratchy, so much so I can barely swallow. Add to the physical exhaustion of climbing temples for three days, thighs so constricted and stretched at the same time that stairs are a nightmare and the emotional cycle of arrivals and departures in some of the most fabulous places in the world and the outcome is someone who is likely to sleep more than a bear hibernating from December to February. It will probably improve when the hours are returned so fast that an additional day is added. November 29th twice!!

As the voyage dwindles, barely a month, it is difficult to believe that there are three ports left on the voyage and seven behind me. Going through my two suitcases today to reorganize the purchases, and to make an excel spreadsheet on these items, I realized how closely related the items I have purchased are embodied in my experiences. I am pleased with everyone I now have to lug off the ship, as they will be “keepers” as Nana would say. Every item is wrapped nicely, a small round label clarifying the contents, port purchased, and the receiver of the item. I cannot help but smile at items like beaded shoes from India, tea from many of the ports, and an array of T-shirts and other surprises I cannot mention. My newest favorites, my two ao dai outfits from Vietnam are absolutely incredible. Along with them are a pair of wrap around pants in silk that I have to admit to being hypocritical of the one-size-fits-all label. Heather and the women helped prove me wrong, only to fall in love with them. For six dollars, it’s easily worth fifty to seventy dollars, maybe more, in the United States. These we had tailored in one hour as we walked around the street in the aftermath of the rain.

As the MV Explorer pulled away from the dock at six o’clock in the morning it was too moving, four parents on the docks waving. With only three ports remaining and less than a month, it is hard to imagine how much will be crammed into this time period. Papers, studying, presentations, port experiences, and large trips. A land-based campus never seemed this busy and with so much work. With the gradual depletion of hours, continual flights, trips in the city, journaling and organizing of photos, school work and study, I am quite exhausted. I have been fighting a cold for a day now, taking Robitussim Cough Gels. Thank goodness for soup in the dining hall as nothing else seems to be edible on my restricted throat. In just a day we will be in China, and I cannot imagine five days away from this place I have come to call home.

November 11, 2005
At Sea

The following is a shared journal entry:

The sea has been very calm and there is not much going on today. We are going to journal, wash more laundry; finish organizing photos, and pack. We have received the packet on Hong Kong and China, the weather in Hong Kong in the fifties and sixties, and between thirty-two degrees and forty-nine degrees Fahrenheit in Beijing. Brrrr! That’s cold. We are going to pack long sleeve shirts, fleeces, tennis shoes, windbreaker, and gloves so that we can layer. I am glad though that we are moving away from sweltering heat.

Tonight we have cultural and logistical pre-port. It has been really difficult to leave some ports including South Africa, Myanmar, Cambodia, and Vietnam. There is just something about a place that pulls you in and makes you never want to leave and these are those places. You just don’t want it to be over. I am so excited about Hong Kong and cannot wait to share all of our experiences with you. We have posted our itinerary, so be on the lookout for us upon our return. Hopefully we will be able to journal during the trip and it will not take as long as it did for Cambodia to catch up.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DAD, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!

Have some cake for us and we will have one for you. Hope you have the best day; of course it would be better if we were with you, but we will celebrate it when we get home. Deal? We love you birthday boy, behave.