...from Mui Ne, Vietnam.
Wishing you great adventures and a happy new year!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Bali: Ceremonies & Sunsets
Our trip to Bali was an unplanned detour, by way of Kuala Lumpur, where we had flown in order to escape the below freezing weather than had engulfed southern China, and only after discovering a glitch in our plan to take the train over the border from China into Vietnam: the train to Vietnam originates in Beijing, and only four berths are saved for passengers boarding the twice weekly train in Guilin – our point of origin. In order to get one of those berths, however, you must relinquish your passport for three days – the amount of time it takes from booking to ticket delivery from Beijing. Ouch. Foreigners cannot go anywhere in China without a passport – we'd have to stay in Guilin (see previous blog – NOT happening) while waiting for our tickets, not to mention the anxiety of simply letting our most valuable travel possession out of our hands. We started looking for alternatives – another traveler we met decided to head west and cross at a different border, and the bus to the border and then another to Hanoi was a possibility, but required at least 10 daylight hours to make the journey. Then we met a Malaysian woman and her daughter who had flown direct to Guilin from Kuala Lumpur (KL) for less than $100. From there, it was similarly inexpensive to get back up to Hanoi – altogether only a little bit more than the train, but without the passport hassle. But the real clincher was the $50 AirAsia fare from KL to Bali. We had three weeks until we needed to be in Hanoi, so booked our flights – paradise, here we come!
We landed in Denpasar, Indonesia and were picked up by our hotel and deposited in the center of Bali's surf and nightlife mecca: Kuta. One day of that was all that we needed to arrange a shuttle transport to Lovina, a relatively quiet beachfront town on the north coast – beautiful! and with a view of the mountains on Java when the light was right.
We spent a week watching sunsets and (mostly) fending off the ever-present fruit, seashell, and massage vendors on the beach, while marveling at the ever-present flower and incense alters and offerings to Ganesha, Allah, and Buddha at every storefront, house entry, and street corner in sight.
Faith and ceremony marks every moment and otherwise routine slice of life here, injecting thoughtfulness and beauty into the simplest walk to the corner market to get a refill of water.
Our homebase in Lovina was an unexpected treat! We booked a room for $25/night – higher than some alternatives, but at a place I felt reasonably assured we could get a good night's sleep and not worry about leaving our meager valuables in the room. For that price, as it turned out, we got a luxury resort – complete with extensive tropical gardens, two pools, a play area and treehouse, poolside restaurant, bar and onsite spa, and only half a block from the beach.
We spent our week snorkeling; heading to sea in a fishing boat at daybreak to look for dolphins (successful!); and touring the temples,waterfalls and hot springs in the nearby mountains.
We enjoyed our Thanksgiving dinner poolside with a whole duck roasted in banana leaves, and ventured as far as Menjagan Island offshore of Bali Barat National Park for a day snorkeling at the edge of a steep, deep reef shelf with the most spectacular coral formations and diversity of tropical fish Ive ever seen (and that's saying something!).
We began to make friends with the family that owned the neighborhood market closest to the hotel (Colin discovered during a blackout that they all play chess), and were invited to attend a cremation ceremony, unfortunately scheduled for the day after we decided it was time to move on.... next stop – Ubud: food mecca of Bali, nestled in the hills north of Denpasar.
We found a driver to take us there, so we could stop off and visit Singaraja Market, the 400 year old Beji Temple, Batur Volcano and a coffee farm on the way. When we arrived at our guest house in Ubud, we discovered preparations for another cremation ceremony underway on our small street, so spent the evening watching the large wooden bull that the body would be placed in for cremation being carved. Bali was beginning to grow on us, but the best was still to come...
On the third night we were to spend in Ubud, our guest house was full and we had to find new digs. Colin's prodding encouraged me to check Couchsurfing for hosts before booking a new room. There were indeed people listed in Ubud, and we got an almost immediate response from our first inquiry – that evening, we found ourselves at Villa Kubu Merta, a luxe villa on the outskirts of town, being preparing for use as a guest house and future home of the Bali Institute (www.baliinstitute.org) by its resident diver/owner, Elsha.
In the meantime, having been a couchsurfing host in Hawaii before moving home to her native Indonesia, she had opened up the villa's elegant rooms and lovely pool (watched over by Ganesha, no less!) to couchsurfers, as a means of training her staff and simply b/c her heart and her spirit are just so dang big! Wow – Kubu Merta was not only beautiful in itself, it was filled with the coolest, most inspired travelers and adventurers of all sorts. We had an incredible three days, finding ourselves almost reluctant to even leave the grounds and the company to continue our own explorations around Ubud. We did manage to see a few things during our time there, though... most notably:
Odalan
We happened to be in Ubud on the anniversary of the central temple, an occasion celebrated at temples throughout Bali with special ceremonies and offerings.
In the afternoon, after browsing through the public market, we wandered across the street in the general direction of some enticing music, and found the local gamelon orchestra in the courtyard of the Ubud Palace rehearsing for their performance at the Odalan ceremony that evening.
In the adjacent courtyard, we found two young men practicing with the dance master for their own roles in the proceedings. We kept bouncing back and forth between the two, inhaling the incense that perfumed the grounds, and taking in the music and dance, until we noticed a procession of women passing on the street outside the gates.
We stepped out and ran smack into the arrival of the offerings for the ceremony – elaborate headdresses carried by even more elaborately dressed women and containing layer upon layer of fruits and flowers to be laid out in the temple as an offering to the gods. Each person to enter the temple grounds (open only those appropriately dressed for the occasion – we were not) was sprinkled with holy water by the guardian of the gate. After a ceremony lasting several hours there would be a public performance of music and dancing in the town square – we were too wiped out to make it that late, though, so were content with our early glimpse into the preparations and headed “home” to get some sleep before the roosters started up (they seemed to think 4 a.m. was sunrise - not so!)
Sacred Monkey Forest
In the center of Ubud sits an expansive park containing forested and moss-covered temples and a holy spring, criss-crossed by serene trails, and decidedly NOT serene, mohawk-wearing, crazy monkeys! At the slightest sign of a banana, say in a two-year-old child's eager hand, they will jump upon the banana carrier, snatch the desired fruit, and proceed to munch away while sitting on your shoulder.
Should you have been so foolish as to enter Monkey Forest with such a thing, you will not be abandoned by the monkey once the fruit is gone. Said monkey will linger on your shoulder, on your back, off your hip, and in your backpack if at all feasible, looking for more “gifts” to appease his appetite. If you have been wise enough to abstain from carrying fruit through Monkey Forest, this can all be widely entertaining... until someone gets hurt. We were fortunate enough not to see bloodshed, but apparently it does happen. Despite this, the monkeys are damn cute, if also a little intimidating.
They even look nearly regal when perched atop the stone carvings of the temple.
If you want to escape monkeys while in Monkey Forest, then head for the banyon tree and holy springs – the most peaceful and mysterious park of the park is inexplicably free of monkeys, and absolutely lovely.
It was finally time for us to conclude our detour and head back to our regularly scheduled programming, but not without a stop en route in Kuala Lumpur to visit Elaine and Tasha, our Chinese travel mates who had turned us on to our detour to begin with.
We flew out of Bali – again just a day ahead of a new cremation invitation (!!) - and landed in KL for a brief look around before continuing to Vietnam.
Our day with Elaine and Tasha included a visit to Batu Caves - a temple in a limestone karst and home to more monkeys (where Colin got to hold a live python); a wonderful Malaysian lunch at a crowded, locals-only (except us) cafe; and a romp in Lake Gardens Park, before setting off on our own to tour the KL Bird Park – home to peacocks, hornbills, scarlet ibises, and hundreds of other fascinating and exotic birds in what is billed (no pun intended) as the world's largest open-air aviary.
Not normally one for tourist sights, this one was pretty spectacular. We also ate our way through Kuala Lumpur's international panopoly of foods – the highlights being succulent Moroccan kababs
and halal-prepared Spanish tapas. Yummmm.
Up Next: Vietnam for the holidays....
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Yangshuo & the Li River Valley
We left Shanghai on the overnight train to Guilin in Guangxi province, entryway to Yangshuo and the Li River valley. We traveled in “hard sleeper” class – 6 to a berth, piled three bunks high, 20-or-so berths to a car, with no doors or curtains, so its like one big 100+ person slumber party. Colin and I had the bottom bunks – advantageous for securely storing our bags between us and providing a small window-side table for playing cards, etc., but with the drawback that our beds also served as communal seating for the upper bunk occupants during the day – not a problem, really, since we are both short. ;-) 
The only real issue with hard sleeper class was the lack of sound barriers throughout the car – all conversation, snoring, and over-amped iPods created a constant low din of noise around-the-clock that made earplugs an absolute must to make the “sleeper” part of the journey a reality. Not a lick of English was spoken by any of the staff on board, so despite the occasional food carts going through the train, we were relieved that we'd brought our own food, as we hadn't the slightest idea what they were offering! (unlike street food stalls, none of the food was on display). Once in Guilin (after several hours of constantly asking “Guilin?”, “Guilin?” as we approached each station), we scurried our bags across several lanes of unyielding traffic to find our hostel off the main drag, checked in and chilled out for a few hours before heading off to find dinner. We planned to see the city the next day and find out how to get a ride aboard a boat down the Li River to Yangshuo.
Guilin proved to be a challenge. Taking our cue from the numerous signs around our hostel warning of pickpockets and bag snatchers, we slung our daybags over our heads and across our chests, fastened the latches, and kept one hand on the clasp at all times.... except when eating ice cream. Oops. I wish we could say we were Shanghai'ed in Shanghai – at least that would have some poetry to it – but instead it was in Guilin that Colin had his camera lifted right out of his bag without so much as a bump or a tug. Another traveler at our hostel had her phone lifted the same way the same day, and just like that, Guilin lost its appeal.
We'd been trying hard to find its charms, with limited success – some nice pagodas at a park, a raft ferry across the canal - but decided at that point that our hostel was the best thing about the city, and so we stayed put honing our pool-playing skills until the next morning, when our ride to the riverboat (arranged by our hostel) arrived to take us on our next adventure – and once again, just like that, our fortunes turned – the river journey to Yangshuo was downright, unbelievably, spectacularly AMAZING!
If ever a picture was worth a thousand words.....
Our “bamboo raft” (the bamboo deck on most has been replaced by plastic tubes over the years) left us in the town of XinPing, where we hopped on a local bus to Yangshuo, about 45 minutes away. Once in Yangshuo, we negotiated a price for transport to our guest house in a small village about 4 km outside of town, only to find our “taxi” was a tri-wheeled motorcycle with an open bed on the back just large enough for Colin and I and our bags.
I was about to bail out, when I saw the look of glee on Colin's face, and since “real” cars don't have seat belts in China anyway, figured we weren't any worse off – in fact, the view of the passing countryside was better this way!
About 15 minutes later, we arrived at the collection of farm houses that make up the Outside Inn, were greeted by a young Chinese woman who spoke perfect Australian-accented English (??), and were led to our room overlooking the mud-brick complex and surrounded by choruses of crowing roosters. Later that afternoon, we met the Swiss/English managers and their children, who became Colin's constant companions and playmates for the next week.
A twenty-minute walk at sunset through the neighboring rice paddies brought me to the edge of a tributary river to the Li, and endless views of karst mountains leading off into the distance. In my dreams, this is what I came to China for. I couldn't stop grinning from ear-to-ear.
The next week was a wonderful slow immersion in the charms of the Guanxi countryside:
a day biking along dirt tracks to a neighboring village and its thousand-year-old “Dragon Bridge;”
a visit to the local fan “factory” - family compounds of artists who hand down the skills of fan-making and painting from generation to generation; a couple of wonderful Chinese cooking classes; several walks through the karst hills into Yangshuo; and a couple of side trips to catch market day in the surrounding towns.
On our last evening we treated ourselves to a performance of Liu San Jie (“Illuminations” in English) – a mind-blowing 600-person dance, music and light spectacle on the Li River, viewed from the riverside, and created by Zhang Yimou, the director of the Beijing Olympics Opening Ceremony. Shown only after dark, karst peaks up to a ½ mile away were illuminated to stunning effect for parts of the show, dancers appeared to walk on water, and cormorant fishermen bobbed in and out of view in the shadows – it was really quite indescribable, and given the scope and darkness, very hard to photograph, though Colin managed to capture one or two lovely images.
It was hard to tear ourselves away, but given the below-freezing temperatures most of our time there, and the lack of central heating in this part of the world (our only heat was a wood stove in the common room, and an electric blanket in our room – both of which are nearly unheard of luxuries here), we decided it was time to head for warmer climes. The Chinese railway wanted our passport for three days in order to issue us one of the few sleeper cots left on the train to Vietnam, so we abandoned that plan in favor of AirAsia's super cheap flights, and bought a ticket to the only place they fly from Guilin – Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. From there, we figured we'd catch a flight back up to Hanoi, but only after adding a side trip after learning that Bali is only $50 from KL on AirAsia! - so off we went... from 30 degrees to 90 degrees in a single day. Bali, here we come!
The only real issue with hard sleeper class was the lack of sound barriers throughout the car – all conversation, snoring, and over-amped iPods created a constant low din of noise around-the-clock that made earplugs an absolute must to make the “sleeper” part of the journey a reality. Not a lick of English was spoken by any of the staff on board, so despite the occasional food carts going through the train, we were relieved that we'd brought our own food, as we hadn't the slightest idea what they were offering! (unlike street food stalls, none of the food was on display). Once in Guilin (after several hours of constantly asking “Guilin?”, “Guilin?” as we approached each station), we scurried our bags across several lanes of unyielding traffic to find our hostel off the main drag, checked in and chilled out for a few hours before heading off to find dinner. We planned to see the city the next day and find out how to get a ride aboard a boat down the Li River to Yangshuo.
Guilin proved to be a challenge. Taking our cue from the numerous signs around our hostel warning of pickpockets and bag snatchers, we slung our daybags over our heads and across our chests, fastened the latches, and kept one hand on the clasp at all times.... except when eating ice cream. Oops. I wish we could say we were Shanghai'ed in Shanghai – at least that would have some poetry to it – but instead it was in Guilin that Colin had his camera lifted right out of his bag without so much as a bump or a tug. Another traveler at our hostel had her phone lifted the same way the same day, and just like that, Guilin lost its appeal.
We'd been trying hard to find its charms, with limited success – some nice pagodas at a park, a raft ferry across the canal - but decided at that point that our hostel was the best thing about the city, and so we stayed put honing our pool-playing skills until the next morning, when our ride to the riverboat (arranged by our hostel) arrived to take us on our next adventure – and once again, just like that, our fortunes turned – the river journey to Yangshuo was downright, unbelievably, spectacularly AMAZING!
If ever a picture was worth a thousand words.....
Our “bamboo raft” (the bamboo deck on most has been replaced by plastic tubes over the years) left us in the town of XinPing, where we hopped on a local bus to Yangshuo, about 45 minutes away. Once in Yangshuo, we negotiated a price for transport to our guest house in a small village about 4 km outside of town, only to find our “taxi” was a tri-wheeled motorcycle with an open bed on the back just large enough for Colin and I and our bags.
I was about to bail out, when I saw the look of glee on Colin's face, and since “real” cars don't have seat belts in China anyway, figured we weren't any worse off – in fact, the view of the passing countryside was better this way!
About 15 minutes later, we arrived at the collection of farm houses that make up the Outside Inn, were greeted by a young Chinese woman who spoke perfect Australian-accented English (??), and were led to our room overlooking the mud-brick complex and surrounded by choruses of crowing roosters. Later that afternoon, we met the Swiss/English managers and their children, who became Colin's constant companions and playmates for the next week.
A twenty-minute walk at sunset through the neighboring rice paddies brought me to the edge of a tributary river to the Li, and endless views of karst mountains leading off into the distance. In my dreams, this is what I came to China for. I couldn't stop grinning from ear-to-ear.
The next week was a wonderful slow immersion in the charms of the Guanxi countryside:
a day biking along dirt tracks to a neighboring village and its thousand-year-old “Dragon Bridge;”
a visit to the local fan “factory” - family compounds of artists who hand down the skills of fan-making and painting from generation to generation; a couple of wonderful Chinese cooking classes; several walks through the karst hills into Yangshuo; and a couple of side trips to catch market day in the surrounding towns.
On our last evening we treated ourselves to a performance of Liu San Jie (“Illuminations” in English) – a mind-blowing 600-person dance, music and light spectacle on the Li River, viewed from the riverside, and created by Zhang Yimou, the director of the Beijing Olympics Opening Ceremony. Shown only after dark, karst peaks up to a ½ mile away were illuminated to stunning effect for parts of the show, dancers appeared to walk on water, and cormorant fishermen bobbed in and out of view in the shadows – it was really quite indescribable, and given the scope and darkness, very hard to photograph, though Colin managed to capture one or two lovely images.
It was hard to tear ourselves away, but given the below-freezing temperatures most of our time there, and the lack of central heating in this part of the world (our only heat was a wood stove in the common room, and an electric blanket in our room – both of which are nearly unheard of luxuries here), we decided it was time to head for warmer climes. The Chinese railway wanted our passport for three days in order to issue us one of the few sleeper cots left on the train to Vietnam, so we abandoned that plan in favor of AirAsia's super cheap flights, and bought a ticket to the only place they fly from Guilin – Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. From there, we figured we'd catch a flight back up to Hanoi, but only after adding a side trip after learning that Bali is only $50 from KL on AirAsia! - so off we went... from 30 degrees to 90 degrees in a single day. Bali, here we come!
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
A week in Shanghai
I am so far behind -- sorry folks!
My last entry left us arriving in Shanghai....
Shanghai was inside-out when we were there - half the city torn up for construction and renovation in preparation for the 2010 Shanghai Expo. The riverside walk along the Bund - Shanghai's signature historic architecture district - was walled off to build a new esplanade, and nearly every intersection had at least one corner piled 10-feet high in rubble. It made it kind of a pain, and kind of exciting, at once - a city in the throws of renewal.
Our favorite parts of town were unaffected though - the "old towns" whose charm is in their timelessness and history, rather than their newness. While most of Shanghai is gloriously "shiny," the old towns' draw is in their narrow alleys, interspersed courtyards, tiny shops and food stalls, and roving vendors.
Our favorite was Qibao, far to the southwest of the city center, and cut through by a canal with boatman ferrying visitors up and down on pole-pushed, covered rafts.
Colin's new-found love affair with tea continued to grow in Shanghai, and as usual we ate our way through the city - dumplings on Yunnan "Food Street," Nanxing steamed buns in the central Old Town, unbelievable seafood at an otherwise nondescript Chinese cafe, chocolate mousse in the French Concession, and noodles, noodles, noodles...
Our low point was a half-day blown at the International Hospital on the advice of Colin's doctor to check out some stomach cramps - a full work up, x-ray, surgical consult.. and huge bill!.. later and he was pronounced fine, with a word of advice to lay off the spicy food. ;-)
The highlights were our hostel itself, immediately off of People's Square, where Colin learned to be a pool shark from the many resident backpackers, and a night at the Shanghai Circus - dancers, acrobats, contortionists, jugglers, hoop jumpers, chair balancers, magicians, and five CRAZY Evil Kneivel-type guys criss-crossing high speed motorcycles inside/upside-down/and every-which-way in an enormous wire mesh globe.
On our final day, as the rains came in, we toured the incredible Shanghai Museum before heading to the train station for the overnight train to Guilin, entryway to our target destination: Yangshuo and the Li River in southern China.
Next up: Shangai'ed! (but not in Shanghai)
My last entry left us arriving in Shanghai....
Shanghai was inside-out when we were there - half the city torn up for construction and renovation in preparation for the 2010 Shanghai Expo. The riverside walk along the Bund - Shanghai's signature historic architecture district - was walled off to build a new esplanade, and nearly every intersection had at least one corner piled 10-feet high in rubble. It made it kind of a pain, and kind of exciting, at once - a city in the throws of renewal.
Our favorite parts of town were unaffected though - the "old towns" whose charm is in their timelessness and history, rather than their newness. While most of Shanghai is gloriously "shiny," the old towns' draw is in their narrow alleys, interspersed courtyards, tiny shops and food stalls, and roving vendors.
Our favorite was Qibao, far to the southwest of the city center, and cut through by a canal with boatman ferrying visitors up and down on pole-pushed, covered rafts.
Colin's new-found love affair with tea continued to grow in Shanghai, and as usual we ate our way through the city - dumplings on Yunnan "Food Street," Nanxing steamed buns in the central Old Town, unbelievable seafood at an otherwise nondescript Chinese cafe, chocolate mousse in the French Concession, and noodles, noodles, noodles...
Our low point was a half-day blown at the International Hospital on the advice of Colin's doctor to check out some stomach cramps - a full work up, x-ray, surgical consult.. and huge bill!.. later and he was pronounced fine, with a word of advice to lay off the spicy food. ;-)
The highlights were our hostel itself, immediately off of People's Square, where Colin learned to be a pool shark from the many resident backpackers, and a night at the Shanghai Circus - dancers, acrobats, contortionists, jugglers, hoop jumpers, chair balancers, magicians, and five CRAZY Evil Kneivel-type guys criss-crossing high speed motorcycles inside/upside-down/and every-which-way in an enormous wire mesh globe.
On our final day, as the rains came in, we toured the incredible Shanghai Museum before heading to the train station for the overnight train to Guilin, entryway to our target destination: Yangshuo and the Li River in southern China.
Next up: Shangai'ed! (but not in Shanghai)
Monday, November 23, 2009
Blog 10: The slow boat to China
We boarded the 17-hour international ferry from South Korea to China at the port city of Incheon, about an hour by subway from the center of Seoul. 
Arriving at the international ferry terminal, we first noticed that there was not a single other “gaijin” in the terminal – we were the only westerners taking the boat to China. The second thing of note was that 90% of the other travelers were dressed in identical red vests and hats – the ferry was filled with hundreds of group tour visitors from China heading back home.
When we bought our tickets, all the cheap spots were full, so for an extra $20 we booked a twin room, instead of the usual 6 or 8 (or 30!) beds to a room. Turns out that that upgraded us to “royal” class – we had a stately private room with mini-fridge, tv, and our own bathroom with both a shower and tub (we hadn't had access to a bathtub since leaving home!).
The ferry itself was impressive – Colin's first reaction upon boarding was that he felt like he was on board the Titanic (in a good way, though I didn't quite appreciate the comparison).
It was smooth sailing all the way to China...
Arriving at the port in Qingdao, things were a little different. We were immediately assaulted by yellowish, stinky smog that made Colin's eyes sting and our stomachs a bit nauseous. We looked for the currency exchange to change our remaining Korean money to Chinese Yuan, but there was none – in an international terminal – hmmm. We fared no better at the bank down the street – we were told that only the Bank of China could change Korean currency. I did have some Yuan that I had bought in the U.S. before leaving, so we took a taxi to our hostel and figured we'd work out the currency exchange later. In our efforts to change money at the bank, though, we hadn't let on that we had any Yuan, so thinking us destitute, the bank manager insisted on giving us bus fare to get to the nearest Bank of China. I didn't have the heart, or the language skills, to correct her, so off we went with an additional 2 yuan (about .30 cents) in our pocket...
The taxi deposited us at the base of the park where we had been told our hostel was located. I was able to see a sign pointing us to the hostel, so we unloaded our bags from the trunk, sent the taxi away, and started up the stone steps ascending the hill. As soon as we started climbing, people started blocking our path and pointing us back down. They clearly wanted us to go another way, but we only had the posted signs to guide us to where we needed to go, and we were going to follow them, damn it, no matter what! As we got higher, the steps soon ended in a pile of rubble, and a half dozen workers were busily smashing up the concrete stairs and connecting patios, but on we went, climbing over the rubble with our heavy bags, sweating profusely, and alternately cursing and laughing as we plodded up the hill. Once past the construction, we continued to climb the stairs, and climb, and climb... following the occasional signs to the hostel as we went.
We finally came to the top, and were greeting by a wonderful old Observatory housing the youth hostel. We checked in, dragged our bags up two more flights of stairs, and made for the roof, where we had a view over all of
Qingdao, complete with a cafe and bar, a rooftop pool table, and the old observatory dome itself, decked out with cushions and curtains and the resident cuddly kitten.
Score!
A few days in Qingdao brought both rain and snow, which we were decidedly NOT prepared for. So after walking around a bit, finding the street markets, and watching in awe as the locals played beach volleyball practically in the buff and went swimming in the ocean, despite the freezing temperatures, we decided it was time to move south to Shanghai.
Easier said than done.
The receptionist at our hostel suggested taking the overnight bus to Shanghai instead of the train - “cheaper and faster,” she said. I suppose I cant argue with the truth of her statement, but the bus had a confusion factor that wasn't described as part of the bargain.
When we departed for the “bus station” in the cab she called for us, she neglected to include a few details – such as how we would be deposited by the side of a busy road with no obvious bus terminal in sight, and no where to walk without delving by foot into thick truck traffic because there were also no sidewalks in sight;
...or how we would have to stand there and wait until a man approached us flapping a paper with the receptionists' cell phone number on it (this part we only discovered upon begging our cab driver to call the receptionist to ask what the heck we were supposed to do once let out on the side of this busy, sidewalk-less road);
...or how we would have to stand in a 20x20 concrete block with a dozen chain-smoking men for nearly an hour while waiting for our bus to arrive (after diving into the aforementioned truck traffic on the heels of the paper-waving man and skirting a narrow opening between the trucks and a tall barrier wall to find the “station”);
...or how the bus that arrived to take us would have no reclining seats and no bathroom (both of which she assured me the overnight bus would have), leading us to frantically decide whether we should proceed or get the hell off now – after deciding we would use an empty water bottle for a toilet, we reluctantly decided to proceed;
...or how 30 minutes later, we would once again be ushered off the formidably inadequate bus onto a new bus waiting for us in the dark on the side of the highway – this one with a bathroom (yay!) and full of metal bunk beds, three across and end-to-end the length of the bus (double yay!!).
While in the end, all was well, those little details would have been good to know.
We promptly claimed the only two connecting bunks, at the very back of the bus, hung a blanket across the end as a makeshift screen, and settled in for the night. Not luxury, but quite comfy compared to what we thought we had gotten ourselves in for! About 8 hours later, we were suddenly awakened by the bus slowing down and the lights coming up as we pulled into the station in Shanghai, just before 5 a.m. It was pitch black, and my plan to duck into a nearby cafe (non existent), grab a coffee (ditto) and get oriented was abandoned in favor of grabbing a waiting cab, handing over a piece of paper with the address of our hostel, and hoping it wasn't too far or too expensive. Fortunately, it was neither. 10 minutes later, we were leaving our bags with the hostel's night watchman and heading out to find coffee and food. Shanghai was still deep asleep, but our hostel was immediately behind the Marriott, and McDonald's (24/7) was conveniently immediately across the street from the front of said Marriott. Micky-D's never looked so good! Two Egg McMuffins and two hours later, the reception desk at our hostel opened, and we checked in for the start of a week in Shanghai!
Arriving at the international ferry terminal, we first noticed that there was not a single other “gaijin” in the terminal – we were the only westerners taking the boat to China. The second thing of note was that 90% of the other travelers were dressed in identical red vests and hats – the ferry was filled with hundreds of group tour visitors from China heading back home.
When we bought our tickets, all the cheap spots were full, so for an extra $20 we booked a twin room, instead of the usual 6 or 8 (or 30!) beds to a room. Turns out that that upgraded us to “royal” class – we had a stately private room with mini-fridge, tv, and our own bathroom with both a shower and tub (we hadn't had access to a bathtub since leaving home!).
The ferry itself was impressive – Colin's first reaction upon boarding was that he felt like he was on board the Titanic (in a good way, though I didn't quite appreciate the comparison).
It was smooth sailing all the way to China...
Arriving at the port in Qingdao, things were a little different. We were immediately assaulted by yellowish, stinky smog that made Colin's eyes sting and our stomachs a bit nauseous. We looked for the currency exchange to change our remaining Korean money to Chinese Yuan, but there was none – in an international terminal – hmmm. We fared no better at the bank down the street – we were told that only the Bank of China could change Korean currency. I did have some Yuan that I had bought in the U.S. before leaving, so we took a taxi to our hostel and figured we'd work out the currency exchange later. In our efforts to change money at the bank, though, we hadn't let on that we had any Yuan, so thinking us destitute, the bank manager insisted on giving us bus fare to get to the nearest Bank of China. I didn't have the heart, or the language skills, to correct her, so off we went with an additional 2 yuan (about .30 cents) in our pocket...
The taxi deposited us at the base of the park where we had been told our hostel was located. I was able to see a sign pointing us to the hostel, so we unloaded our bags from the trunk, sent the taxi away, and started up the stone steps ascending the hill. As soon as we started climbing, people started blocking our path and pointing us back down. They clearly wanted us to go another way, but we only had the posted signs to guide us to where we needed to go, and we were going to follow them, damn it, no matter what! As we got higher, the steps soon ended in a pile of rubble, and a half dozen workers were busily smashing up the concrete stairs and connecting patios, but on we went, climbing over the rubble with our heavy bags, sweating profusely, and alternately cursing and laughing as we plodded up the hill. Once past the construction, we continued to climb the stairs, and climb, and climb... following the occasional signs to the hostel as we went.
We finally came to the top, and were greeting by a wonderful old Observatory housing the youth hostel. We checked in, dragged our bags up two more flights of stairs, and made for the roof, where we had a view over all of
Qingdao, complete with a cafe and bar, a rooftop pool table, and the old observatory dome itself, decked out with cushions and curtains and the resident cuddly kitten.
Score!
A few days in Qingdao brought both rain and snow, which we were decidedly NOT prepared for. So after walking around a bit, finding the street markets, and watching in awe as the locals played beach volleyball practically in the buff and went swimming in the ocean, despite the freezing temperatures, we decided it was time to move south to Shanghai.
Easier said than done.
The receptionist at our hostel suggested taking the overnight bus to Shanghai instead of the train - “cheaper and faster,” she said. I suppose I cant argue with the truth of her statement, but the bus had a confusion factor that wasn't described as part of the bargain.
When we departed for the “bus station” in the cab she called for us, she neglected to include a few details – such as how we would be deposited by the side of a busy road with no obvious bus terminal in sight, and no where to walk without delving by foot into thick truck traffic because there were also no sidewalks in sight;
...or how we would have to stand there and wait until a man approached us flapping a paper with the receptionists' cell phone number on it (this part we only discovered upon begging our cab driver to call the receptionist to ask what the heck we were supposed to do once let out on the side of this busy, sidewalk-less road);
...or how we would have to stand in a 20x20 concrete block with a dozen chain-smoking men for nearly an hour while waiting for our bus to arrive (after diving into the aforementioned truck traffic on the heels of the paper-waving man and skirting a narrow opening between the trucks and a tall barrier wall to find the “station”);
...or how the bus that arrived to take us would have no reclining seats and no bathroom (both of which she assured me the overnight bus would have), leading us to frantically decide whether we should proceed or get the hell off now – after deciding we would use an empty water bottle for a toilet, we reluctantly decided to proceed;
...or how 30 minutes later, we would once again be ushered off the formidably inadequate bus onto a new bus waiting for us in the dark on the side of the highway – this one with a bathroom (yay!) and full of metal bunk beds, three across and end-to-end the length of the bus (double yay!!).
While in the end, all was well, those little details would have been good to know.
We promptly claimed the only two connecting bunks, at the very back of the bus, hung a blanket across the end as a makeshift screen, and settled in for the night. Not luxury, but quite comfy compared to what we thought we had gotten ourselves in for! About 8 hours later, we were suddenly awakened by the bus slowing down and the lights coming up as we pulled into the station in Shanghai, just before 5 a.m. It was pitch black, and my plan to duck into a nearby cafe (non existent), grab a coffee (ditto) and get oriented was abandoned in favor of grabbing a waiting cab, handing over a piece of paper with the address of our hostel, and hoping it wasn't too far or too expensive. Fortunately, it was neither. 10 minutes later, we were leaving our bags with the hostel's night watchman and heading out to find coffee and food. Shanghai was still deep asleep, but our hostel was immediately behind the Marriott, and McDonald's (24/7) was conveniently immediately across the street from the front of said Marriott. Micky-D's never looked so good! Two Egg McMuffins and two hours later, the reception desk at our hostel opened, and we checked in for the start of a week in Shanghai!
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