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.