Somebody slap me

I just got back from a marathon trip that went from North Carolina to New Jersey to NYC, back to Jersey, and then to, of all places, sunny Miami, where I enjoyed the beach for a brief time. I was delighted to get back to my own humble home. Today. This afternoon. And yet just now, while looking at my Cities I've Visited Map, I found myself thinking, "Hm, I haven't gone anywhere in a while..."

Sometimes I worry myself.

Guinness

 

It nearly killed me, but I was not allowed to drink in Ireland. I was on some serious antibiotics, and it's not that they would have stopped working if I drank (I would have been willing to risk it), but it would have made me even sicker than I already was. Deathly ill, apparently.

Nonetheless, I sneaked a delicious sip here and there. Here's our skillfully pulled Guinness at the Hotel Meyrick in Galway. None of the other bars bothered with such artistry.

Rocks and trees

Had a great time in Ireland, conference and all. Here's a photo of Kylemore Abbey in County Mayo, definitely one of the highlights of the trip. Built in the 1800s by the son of a hugely wealthy cotton merchant (Me, loudly, "SO THIS WAS BUILT WITH SLAVERY MONEY? Oh, should I have said that louder for the nuns to hear?") and sold to the Catholic church in 1920 or so. It's a couple hours' drive northwest of Galway, in a gorgeous, secluded, windswept location with high mountains, a small lake, and a few wandering sheep. Just an incredible place.

Land o'Joyce

I'm off to Ireland today for a conference and then some West Coast fun, and I'm taking my parents with me. We will hopefully all survive the experience. The fun starts in Dublin for three days, where we're staying off upper O'Connell Street right near the James Joyce Center and Irish Writers' Museum, and then we head for Galway, where we stay off Eyre Square, and day-trip to points beyond for another three days. A relatively quick trip, but I'm hoping for lots of sheep, green fields, and seafood. Alas, there will be no Guinness for me; I'm on a hefty course of antibiotics, and alcohol will apparently make me extremely sick.

Smithsonian day

Not much time for sightseeing in D.C., but I did do a remarkably quick run through three (three!) museums in less than three hours. I've never gone through a museum so fast in my life. First up was the Museum of American History, where I made sure to take a look at my friend Franklin Odo's new exhibit on Hawaii. Well chosen but rather utopian; I'm not sure that anything on the darker side of Hawaiian annexation would really fly unless it were on a much bigger scale, like the temporary exhibit upstairs on the bracero movement (the Mexican contract laborers from 1942 to the sixties). The permanent exhibits were fairly interesting; we only glanced at Julia Child's kitchen and the First Lady dress exhibit, which were very crowded. FYI, no Michelle Obama dress yet, but her photo has been added to the lineup. We did enjoy looking at the trains and the never-ending array of scientific inventions, including various light bulbs, engines, batteries, toasters, turbines...

Next we crossed the street to the Museum of Natural History, which has a great fossil collection. A brontosaurus, stegosaurus, triceratops, lots of wee dinosaurs I don't know the names of, primitive sea life, primitive horse hooves, you name it. Nothing quite as crazy as the T. Rex at Chicago's Field Museum, but a really interesting range. I towed my male companion upstairs to see the Hope Diamond, currently on display free of its setting for the first time, took one look at it, and said, “Eh... it's a diamond.” Jewels don't have much charm for me unless they have cool historical associations. Now the ruby at the Tower of London that Henry V supposedly wore at Agincourt, that one I stared at for a good long time. We jogged on through bugs, butterflies, Greek and Egyptian collections, quickly looked at a nice little Korean collection including some typical primitivist Cheju Island paintings which I'd never seen before, and finished up in sea life under the big whale.

Last but far from least, I speedwalked down the Mall to the Air and Space Museum. A friend had told me that this was really the most distinctive museum, in a way, and he was really right – you don't see rockets and planes in too many places. It would have been worth it just to see the Apollo 11 command module, which sits near the front encased in thick plastic. The planes were cool, too. I can't help thinking that early commercial travelers really had guts – some of those looked like tin cans. And don't even start on the tiny mail planes. Definitely good times all around at the Smithsonian, and don't forget, they're all free.

Whatever happened to Topher Grace?

I leave you with this thought while I jet off to D.C. Liberal Traveler musings on museums will no doubt follow. Weather cooperating, I am going to go see a panda.

I'll huff and I'll puff

And then I'll get overheated. Climbing the Great Wall was a real experience, though true adventurers should definitely head for the unrestored wall on a tour with Wild China or Wild Wall, or even just the day hike from Jianshanling to Simatai. We headed for Mutianyu, about an hour directly north of Beijing, a drive taking you through small towns and past tons of newly planted trees, which a Chinese student told us were done to cut down dust for the Olympics.

Mutianyu is well restored, but at least early in the morning, quite peaceful. When we started climbing around (before 9am), we were perhaps two of ten people on the Wall. It was, as promised, steep and slightly perilous in parts, even though so well restored. I didn't see anyone tumble, but I did hear people saying that they had fallen down stair sections. I calmly and shamelessly resorted to all fours on the steep parts. Why not? Easier than trying to hang off a shoulder-height flanking wall.

The little watchtowers were quite interesting, though of course bare. Little animal stone carvings decorate the corners, and you could even climb up on the roof of some of them. The unrestored section isn't just slightly crumbly on top; it's completely overgrown with shrubs and weeds. You can barely see the wall. I'd imagine that the Wild China tours must go to parts of the wall that are in a more desert location than Mutianyu's greenery, which was quite lush. We got good views of it from the ski lift that carries you up, and then on the toboggan that you can take down. My first toboggan ride! It would have been more fun if the middle-aged European lady in front of me hadn't been terrified to go at more than a crawl.

All in all, an excellent half-day trip, complete with a lovely, friendly cab driver (a black taxi arranged by our concierge). We bought him a bottle of tea, and he then felt compelled to stop and buy us some fruit.

Cutting a swathe

Let's step back to China, shall we? I scarcely know where to start there either, but here's the summary of what we hit: Forbidden City, Wangfujing shopping street and snack street, Lama Temple, Pearl Market, Mao's mausoleum in Tiananmen Square, several Excellent restaurants, and the Great Wall at Mutianyu.

Oh, what the hell, let's start with the food. We didn't do so well the first day—as a matter of fact, we barely ate, as I recall, snacking on a few buns for lunch and getting some soup dumplings in a mall food court for dinner. The second day, we did much better. We thoroughly pigged out on the best dim sum I've ever had at Crystal Jade restaurant in one of the malls on Wangfujing. It was a pretty ritzy restaurant, pricey by Chinese standards, but worth every penny. Excellent service, very little English, leading to a hilarious pantomime when my friend wanted hot sauce.

In the evening, we hit the famous Li Qun roast duck restaurant, to which Mao supposedly used to send his driver to pick up a bird or two. More hilarity here. Guidebooks and maps gave us a general idea of where it was. I paused at a newspaper kiosk to ask the young proprietor if we were on the right track by eloquently handing him the card on which our concierge had written the name. “Ah, Li Qun,” he said thoughtfully. I nodded eagerly. He thought hard and added, “Duck.” I nodded again. He pointed straight, then right.

We knew we were on the right track when we were accosted by an enterprising bike taxi driver, but we waved him away and kept walking. Empty taxis going past us gave me hope, and sure enough the restaurant was right there. My friend remarked on what an ass she'd have felt like if we'd taken the ricksha! Though very, very famous, the place is still an unassuming hole in the wall and none too nice, but more importantly, I've never had such duck in my life. I don't like duck in the U.S. – it's too oily and gamy for me – but this slow woodroasted duck drips the fat out, leaving a tender, flavorful white meat that you roll up with cucumbers and scallions (not me) in little mu shu, dip in the special sauce (some kind of fermented bean base, I think) and eat till you feel like exploding. When we got there, only Chinese customers were around, but some Americans trickled in as real dinnertime approached. When we left, we nearly split our already-splitting sides with laughter; as you exit, on the whitewashed wall ahead of you is stenciled a little cartoon duck and the words “DUCK OK.” I wish I'd taken a picture.



On our last day, we came back from the Wall close to ravenous, and hit one of the oldest Chinese Muslim restaurants in town, Dong Lai Shun, conveniently right on Wangfujing. We had classic hot pot, which we filled with noodles, potatoes, pea shoots, mutton, and scallops, and chased with their delicious little sesame bread cakes. For the record, scallops suck in hot pot – fishing them out is much too hard.

Then it was off to the conference, where food was abundant but not nearly so good, of course. But those two days were ones for the books, for sure.

Once upon a sword

Another airplane post. Look, I've got time to kill and can't sleep.

My last day in Tokyo, I was really torn about what to do, and ended up heading for a slightly off-the-beaten path site, the temple of Sengaku-ji. Off the usual path but celebrated enough to have its own metro stop. This temple is the site of one of Japan's most famous stories from the samurai era, this one the 18th century. The story of the Forty-Seven Ronin is a bloody tale of revenge, hara-kiri, and chivalry. Read the full version on wikipedia; I can't do it better. In very short, a band of forty-seven masterless samurai plotted for two years to avenge their dead master, led by the famous Oishi. They succeeded, carrying off the enemy's head in triumph, but were in turn condemned to commit honorable suicide, which all of them did except one, the youngest, who was pardoned, lived to a ripe old age, and was buried with his comrades. The story became a celebrated tale of loyalty and honor.

The temple is where their master was buried, and all of them with him. It was very quiet, with a few pensioners sitting and snoozing in the courtyard and then some young folks coming to eat lunch on the benches. Only a very few other tourists, all Japanese. The museum has many original documents and artifacts, including, most famously, the receipt the priests wrote out when Oishi returned the enemy's head to his family for burial. There are also letters and documents written by him, and the war drum that the ronin supposedly used on their raid. Most cool of all, I thought, was one of the copies of the ronin's objectives in the raid, which they left behind and also pasted on their enemy's gate the night of the action. What a tale.

I ought to end there, but will just add that I wish I spoke or read a little Japanese to get the most out of this place. The ticket seller barely spoke any English, so I couldn't ask him questions, but I wasn't sure who was buried where. I took photos and will have to ask friends for translations.

Conspicuous consumption

On the airplane this time, on my way back to the U.S.

My last days in Tokyo were exhausting and exhaustive. As a matter of fact, it's hard to remember exactly what I did on which days, but it involved doing pretty much all my Christmas shopping. Tokyo is a shopping mecca. I can't see why, to be honest, you'd go shop anywhere else, except of course for the strength of the yen. With my usual impeccable timing, I hit something like an eleven-year high of the yen against the dollar, much like when I visited England and the pound was 1:2. I opened a vein and happily bled my way to Wimbledon, and so I did once more. Almost bled my way to another tennis tournament, as a matter of fact, since the women's Toray Tokyo tournament was going on, but in the end decided against it.

To return to the shopping, there are multiple high-end shopping areas, Ginza being the most famous and most ritzy. You've never experienced such customer service—such bowing, such gift-wrapping, such polite greeting, such bagging and rebagging of your purchases. Omotesando is also extremely famous, with some great architecture – a standalone Prada store made out of puffy glass diamonds, a famous mall called Omotesando Hills that has a kind of zigzagging ramp from one floor to the next. The Hills has a Harry Winston and a Jimmy Choo. You'd go a long way to find that kind of mall in the U.S. Shinjuku, though a little more vibrant and less high-end, also has some fairly high-end department stores.

For the cool stuff, you head to Shinjuku, Shibuya, Harajuku. Shinjuku is home of Disk Union's flagship store(s), with six branches within three blocks, many specializing in a particular genre or genres. I got myself a fanclub Queen concert recording and an obscure Turandot. People were buying like mad, particularly on the classical floor, where the customers just had little shopping baskets. I was distressed to note that I was almost the only female shopping there; that's just not right. It doesn't aid stereotypes that Harajuku is so female dominated, full of young girls like a Forever 21 is here (and there's one of those there, too). Though there are plenty of guys, hanging out or accompanying girlfriends. Shibuya is also youth-oriented, very trendy.

Asakusa is full of tourist shopping. Little souvenirs, ranging from tiny drums or refrigerator magnets to beautiful handmade crafts that cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars. For that matter, there's a lot of tourist shopping as well as worshipper shopping at all the shrines, where you can buy little charms for all kinds of things; pregnancy, scholarship, traffic safety (it was green). Main tourist shopping street here:



I've already mentioned my trips to the guitar stores of Ochanomizu and the bookstores of Jimbo-cho, of course. A used English paperback will run you about $5 there. And, of course, my mandolin purchase at the Meiji Park flea market behind the National Stadium. There are many weekend flea markets in Tokyo now, popularized by recycling and, of course, everyone's love of deals. I just couldn't be sure what haggling was like in Japan's polite culture, though. I watched it happen, but when you can't understand numbers, how can you know how much the price is shifting?

Finally, I just about hit my shopping max in a store called Tokyu Hands. This has several branches in Tokyo, and it's billed as a hobby shop or handcrafting shop or something of the kind. Basically, if you do it with your hands, you find everything for it here. I hit the kitchen floor of the branch in Ikekuburo, and to my great delight, found white silicone steamer lids that I'd eyed at MOMA Design Store but were twice as expensive there. They're just round white silicone disks with a pig snout in the middle. Put them over whatever you're microwaving or steaming or boiling, and the steam issues out the pig nostrils. Too cute, and much saving of paper towels, etc. I did take the escalators to the other floors, but I was so maxed out by that time that I could barely function to take in the giant assortment of insoles, gift bags, knives, garden hoses...

One area I did not hit is famous Akihabara, the electronics mecca. I was hoping to find a retractable USB cable, and I almost found one at the airport—but it was a USB to other-connector converter. I knew they'd have anything you could dream up, and I was just about right. I bet I could have found one in town. Oh well.

Donkey, two piles of hay, me

[ETA: I've been blogging about guitar-related Tokyo sightseeing on the other blog, so skip over there for that stuff.]

I've never been on a trip where it was so completely true that it wouldn't matter which choice I made to go wherever; it would still be awesome and amazing and I would also wish I could see the other place. Tomorrow is such a choice. Kamakura or more of Tokyo?

Today was also such a choice. After a morning at the flea market, I spent the afternoon at the Meiji Shrine, Harajuku, and Omotesando. Three more different things in close proximity could hardly be imagined. The Meiji Shrine is majestic and peaceful, very simple and dignified, like the emperor it honors. Go out of the park and you'll be hit in the face by the swarms of humanity that shop Harajuku and Omotesando. Yes, Harajuku, like Gwen Stefani's silent backup dancers and her fashion line. It is a very cool area, very very youth-oriented. Just insane shops from one end to the other, mostly very trendy clothes and accessories but interspersed with costume shops, the odd comic shop, and crepe stands. See:


Omotesando is yet another high-end shopping area, but right next to Dior is the Oriental Bazaar, a great place to souvenir-shop. I got myself a yukata, basically a light cotton kimono, or what we might think of as a bathrobe made out of sheet material. I've always wanted something like this, since I hate heavy robes, but I didn't know there was a name for it. I've been enjoying wearing them in the hotels (they leave them for you, along with a sash, just like a robe in an American hotel). These can be used as dressing gowns or nightwear or summer outerwear if they're nice ones.

I left my heart in Shojiko

Here I am on the bus back from Kawaguchiko to Tokyo, typing this up to post later. Bless the netbook.

I was tempted to stay all day out here, maybe go back to Shojiko, which truthfully I only saw from the bus but fell in love with as we circled it. Tiny blue-green horseshoe-shaped lake, surrounded by unassuming-looking shops and hotels, with plenty of folk boating and fishing on the lake, gorgeous view of Fuji. It also seems more walkable than Motosuko or even Kawaguchiko, which you just can't circle. No trails. This area is also not meant for hiking; you can't get there from here unless you're willing to walk along the edge of a major road. Only two lanes, admittedly, but no shoulder; you'd just be walking the line. No thanks.

Anyway, I decided against it mostly because my stomach has been only the edge of cooperation (medication issues, I think), and also because I was a little afraid that it might be anticlimactic. I got my boating on Motosuko, and that'll just have to hold me till the next water trip. I must say that I am still mightily bummed that there's no swimming in any of the lakes, particularly Motosuko. The water there was so clear and felt so good just splashing my hands in it that I'm sure it would have been the swim of a lifetime. (Had I not been wearing sneakers and full clothing, I'd have been tempted to fall overboard by accident.) Incidentally, all the people (all Japanese) were staring at me as I calmly boated around, including the old boatmen who clearly thought I'd paddle feebly away from shore and get stuck. Must not be a very feminine thing to do here. The boat was actually great, very light and with curved paddles, which let me whiz over the surface of the water. The photo is the view of Fuji from the water.

On the way to the other lakes, I stopped at two famous lava caves formed by old Fuji eruptions, Hyoketsu and Fuketsu. Fuketsu, which I went to first, is the “wind cave,” a dark little cave with a small structure built at the end of it. Alas, all the signage was in Japanese, so I have no idea what the heck I was looking at. There was lava rock. There was some ice. There were bamboo banisters.

Hyoketsu was more exciting. The descent was fairly perilous, though brief; I met some elderly Japanese emerging who looked like they'd been through the mill. Really steep, narrow stairs (wet, to boot), tunnel-like areas with vaguely step-like indentations. At one point you had to crouch and scoot through. I gave up and slid on my butt for a few feet, thinking all the time, “How would my parents manage this?” Hyoketsu used to be mined for ice, and there were signs with pictures showing how it was done. They have ice blocks piled up in a few areas for historical reenactment purposes. Lots of fun.



I hiked from Fuketsu to Hyoketsu through the beginning of the famous sea of trees, Aokigahara, following the signs by matching the Kanji to the words on my bus schedule. I now know the character for cave. Some of it was nice walking, some rougher over loose lava rocks, two small pebbles of which I took for souvenirs. I also bought some pink Japanese salt when killing time waiting for the bus to Motosuko (had to go back to Fuketsu for that).

And as I said, all day, the only foreigner around. Really unique experience. I exaggerate when I say that they didn't speak a word of English. They all spoke words. Maybe two. And I finally heard someone refer to me as a 'gaijin,' which excited me no end. I did teach the old man the word for “rowboat,” and when I backed the boat neatly into the launching fork, he said, “Nice!”

Where none have gone before

Torn between lakes and mountains, I went for lakes and caves -- mostly because the bus was earlier and I was raring to go. While Im sorry not to see Fuji on this trip, it was a great choice. I saw lava caves full of ice that used to be mined for it, the infamous sea of trees, the adorably horseshoe^shaped Lake Shoji, and the completely pristine Motosu. And all day, I was the only foreigner around. This seems like freak timing, since Im pretty sure I saw some tour buses saying Kanko, which means Korean. Still, it was pretty cool, and I think I was a nine days wonder to the old men at Motosu who rented me a rowboat for a half hour so I could get out on the surface of the lake and photograph Fuji. Motosu has the bluest water Ive ever seen, and its so clear that you can see all the way down (how far I dont know).

In case you can't tell, I just found the apostrophe on this keyboard.

In any case, it was fantastic, and I'm jazzed and wiped out at the same time. I spent the afternoon at a small museum, about which more later. Dinner is ready.

Neither fish nor fowl

Out at Fuji Five Lakes, more specifically Lake Kawaguchi. 50-min bus ride　to Fuji is giving me pause. I may just do the caves, lakes, etc. Touristy but not very dolled up on this side of the lake. Yamanaka might be nicer, or the north shore. Will try tomorrow and blog from my own computer if the wifi is back up. This Japanese keyboard is driving me nuts.

Faster than a speeding train

Going around Tokyo has been so easy. The subways are full of English signs, and they move fast. Fast! I can get to Ginza in 10 minutes, and to Ueno, which is almost the opposite end of Tokyo, in 22. The only difficulty is the stations themselves, which wind around crazily for transfers sometimes and have multiple exits that are rather far apart. In addition, the system is made up of Tokyo Metro lines (the majority), four private lines run by Toei, and the JR network, which is more like a commuter rail. So if you buy a day pass, you need to know which lines you want, or else you may just be wasting money. Stations are clean and most have bathrooms.

Today, however, I take a break from Tokyo and go out to Kawaguchi-ko, one of the five lakes around Mount Fuji. Wish me luck. I will try to blog from there if I can.

Emerging!

Here I am in the land where you can access blogger and facebook, i.e. Japan. I couldn't get to them in China, which blocks such instant-commentary sites as best it can. In spite of such reminders of totalitarianism, I loved China and found it unbelievably interesting and surprisingly modern, full of paradox and development and Michael Jordan ads. The first three days there were an orgy of tourism and eating such as I have rarely managed before on jetlag – more on those later.

They were then made up for by the next three days at a conference center out in the boondocks next to a petrochemical plant and nothing else. Not a shop nor restaurant nor anything else within sight or a half hour's drive, and a serious lack of bottled water. I boiled like nobody's business, but on the second day found white particulate matter in my mug, and sure enough my stomach rebelled about six hours later. God only knows what it was – I really don't like to think. My traveling partner and I escaped on Sunday morning, heading first for an expat clinic for medical treatment for me and then to Dashanzi 798, the artist and craft area that's kind of like a pedestrian converted-warehouses version of, say, Greenwich Village twenty years ago? I don't even know if that's a fair comparison, but it was obvious that this is where cool young Beijing hangs out. After another fraught stomachic night, here I am in Japan, quietly drinking my hotel's free bottled water.

I had a great time talking to the Chinese graduate students, so cool and aware and curious and all completely untraveled outside China. So young-looking for their ages. I bestowed my Glamour magazine on one girl who had a Coach knockoff purse, and she was so delighted she couldn't even express it. She said they can't get the American fashion mags there – I wonder if that's true, but maybe they don't try shopping the Peninsula hotel newsstands. Another girl expressed great love for Kobe Bryant and Nicholas Cage, and inquired if there was a real Central Perk (the coffeeshop in Friends). A lot of the girls were very into the Twilight books -- can you imagine? Worldwide phenomenon. They wanted to know what Seattle and the Pacific Northwest were like (which is where the books were set and movie was filmed, apparently). Some few had extremely good and idiomatic English, some were very halting. They all have English names for speaking to foreigners (a practice I hope they get rid of ASAP), and one couldn't even pronounce hers: Nadine. The only two Nadines I have ever encountered are Gordimer and Fran's sister on "The Nanny."

Over the North Pole

Off I go tomorrow morning, folks. Flying to Beijing via Tokyo for three days of jetlag/tourism and then a conference. Return to Tokyo for a week+ of tourism (will need to work, also, while I'm there), including three nights in the Fuji Five Lake region and a possible day trip to Kamakura or Kawagoe. Will try to keep you posted -- I'm taking the netbook, god's gift to weary travelers, or in my case, the gift of Asus and a Best Buy sale.

Life of leisure

I have always thought that in order to live in NYC, or at any rate to enjoy it, you have to have either money or energy. Ideally both. One of the things that requires mostly energy is boating on Central Park Lake. (It's $12 for the first hour and $2.50/15min after, as low a boating rate as I've ever seen in any reasonably sized town .)

Here's a view of the lake from the boat after we had made it away from the boathouse into the main area. You can see one of the tiny islands in the lake, and the pretty bridge.



I rowed my parents around on Saturday, not always an easy task in a rowboat, which travels backwards. Lots of people on the lake had never rowed before, plainly, not least the two toddlers with a mom who was letting them try to handle one oar. I did greatly enjoy our exchange with the boatman when we were embarking.

Boatman: "Ladies, both on the back seat, please."
Me (firmly): "Oh no. I'm doing the rowing. I appreciate the thought, though."
Dad (to the boatman): "This is for you young folks, you know."

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown

The Statue of Liberty's crown has just reopened to tourists, albeit bagless, guided by Park Rangers, and limited to 30 at a time. While this might significantly improve the experience, let me tell you right now: it ain't worth it. I was about ten years old, I think, when we took my aunt and uncle to see it. I remember the interminable climb, which was not so much a climb as a standstill. I was sitting on the stairs at my uncle's feet, suffering in silence till the next time we got to climb a few feet. Then when we got to the crown, they were shuffling us through, so I got a quick glimpse through the small windows, which I recall not even being perfectly clean, and that was it.

In contrast, the pedestal is still a great view, it's open so you can smell the sea breeze, it's elevator-equipped for the handicapped, and you can walk all the way around. No contest.

Freshwater madness

The Tampa Aquarium doesn't have much in the way of big marine life, and none of your classic dolphins, belugas, etc., but they do have a really adorable pair of river otters who like to tussle:





Also, in the coral reef area, which is a series of small tanks, they feature these incredibly weird sea dragons, which look more like floating plants than anything else. They swim with tiny, almost invisible transparent fins. They would not do well in a hurricane.