large stature

Jan met us at the station. We found Malaina teaching at the language camp with Jolon in hand, good to see/visit with family after almost 5 months of travel. Since they've been living here for quite some time (teaching English among various other things), they were able to give us a good overview of the country before we would set out in a few days.

Forever known for the being the first city hit by an atomic bomb, Hiroshima now has over a million people and is thriving with a vibrant cultural, shopping and night scene. Perhaps the most magnificent things we visited while here were the Mitaki-Jima temple complex and the 500m ascent of Mt. Misen on Miajima island. Both were scenes of what everyone dreams of when they think about Japan.

On Sunday, we were off to explore the rest of Japan (or as much as we could with a 7-day rail pass). First stop was near Fukuoka, where we sampled our first sushi plucked from circling conveyor belts and dipped into our first Onsen, or Japenese Bath, which usually consists of a hot pool -- many times filled with hot, volcanic-based water (with a pungent sulphuric odor to match), which is believed of course to have the requisite healing properties. No cold bath to throw the body into convulsions however like in Russia. Just a shower where you sit and get clean afterward.

The most interesting thing about the bath this day had actually had nothing to do with the bath. In the area where everyone disrobes, an older Japanese man very vocally becomes animated upon seeing Andy, admiring his large stature (compared to Japanese men) like he's a giant or something. So he starts comparing calves, legs, torsos, everything -- and I mean EVERYTHING! -- not the most peaceful welcome to a completely foreign enviornment where everyone gets naked (luckily, he had already been to a russian bath). And maybe the guy was drunk or something too because the exhuberance and seemingly never resolved point or new information except that Andy was 'big,' seemed very un-Japanese. Finally, culturally rude or no, Andy said, 'yeah, yeah, listen I gotta go,' and got out of there. When leaving the bath, there was another older Japanese man who commented on his size and that Andy must have done 'sports.' Luckily, that clunky conversation ended
quickly after they talked about Hideki Matsui.

On Monday, it was off to the fantasmagical Tokyo which did not disappoint. The scene was a surreal mix of crisply dressed businessmen emerging from seedy, dark lounges onto neon-fried streets -- stylish guys and scantily clad girls with sparkling, glittery cell phones and fingernails to match.

The scrambling, kaleidoscopic Tsukiji fish market was a highlight -- as was the insanely fresh sashimi had at a stall nearby.

Caught the first bullet train for the north and by around 4pm, we made it to the northernmost island, Hokkaido, more specifically, Toya-ko where there were two active volcanoes.
The big one, Mt. Uzusu, reeked havoc only last 2000. The hikewe took around the outer rim was stunning, steam rising up on either side of the trail. Back at the hotel, we dipped in the onsen there and caught the fireworks show (given every evening for the throngs in the giant hotels in the next town) from the boat.

The next day, after Sarah loaded us up with trays of beautiful sashimi and rolls, we headed south, taking three trains including the last one a bullet train screaming towards Nagayo (we couldn't get the one to Kyoto we wanted). Crashed at a hotel there, then took early one to Kyoto. In the sweltering heat in Kyoto, we rented bikes and actually caught most of the temples and shrines in the Northeast and Southeast sections of town before the day was over.


Caught the 9pm train back to Hiroshima and effectively ended our 7-day pass. In Hiroshima, we saw the 61-year anniversary of the A-bomb strike on August 6 (bells toll at 8:15am, the exact time the bomb hit) and evening ceremony where hundreds of lanterns are lit and floated up the river commemorating the 140,000 lost lives that day.

The rest of the week we spent seeing the nightlife here, resting a bit, and getting ready for our next phase: S. Korea then an
adventurous tour back through China, to parts known and unknown across the Central and Southern regions.

Our plan is to leave tomorrow on the fast ferry from Fukuoka to Busan in South Korea. But first, as a kind of a 'final goodbye' tonight, we're going to a Fugu restaurant -- serving the poisonous pufferfish that must be prepared by a highly specialized chef, lest the diner meet their demise. So, if in the coming weeks, you notice a mysterious absence of entries, you'll know why.

Thanks: Malaina, Jan and Jolon for letting us regroup at their place, for giving us an overview of the island and introducing us to the joys of udon.

Brilliant idea

Tianjin turned out to be our first Chinese city with healthy capitalist overtones from the looks of all the skyscrapers and neon (not really Beijing's style at all). As well as the overall mood of the city. There were no other foreigners here to speak of, no English signage, but ironically (and this was the exact opposite of Beijing) no fascination or intrigue with foreigners. And Tianjin is no small town, with over 9 million people -- more than New York City. Parts of it are almost Vegas-like with neon signs scattered throughout the two main shopping thoroughfares. There's even a handy Wal Mart we used to get classic dehydrated ramen, box of Tide detergent, a big tube of toothpaste (a rarity in these parts) and even chewing gum for the ferry -- there was the familiar big, black low price signs and lots of focus on volume. Also, it was crowded on this Saturday night as older women huddled in the supermarket section below trying to beat each other out for day-old, two-for-one special bread that would be tagged, carted out, and immediately pounced on.
Sunday saw us visit the antique market, the 'foreign' market (which was supposed to have cool vintage clothes from Japan and Korea, but in reality was not much more than rubble piles with some food carts and cheap clothes scattered among tile cleanser and dishwashing detergent. A bakery, open for 80 years (we were salivating for their glutenous rice cakes flash-fried in sesame oil we had heard about), had been replaced by a mobile phone store.

Andy did get a haircut, or more like an accidental buzz due to language difficulties, Sarah's peaceful, freindly countenance turned to a look of horror as the shears dug deep almost to the bone.



Monday we got up at 5:45am to catch a cab to the bus to go to Tanggu, but from the language difficulties it was still unclear if the taxi would take 45 minutes or the bus would take 45 minutes or if both would take a total of 90. We knew it should only take about 45 minutes outside of town and the recommenders didn't even know about the train, so Andy had the brilliant idea of trying the train station with its 'reliable' trains and cadre of minibuses (according to the book).

As Sarah guarded the luggage, Andy found out the early train was completely full, putting us behind schedule to get to the ferry in time for the required 2-hour departure window. At this point the language barrier became almost impossible. Andy was having trouble figuring out exactly where buses left from, which ones were going to Tanggu, when they would leave and when they would arrive. There were no schedules -- more word of mouth. To make matters worse, different people would point in completely different directions. We took a chance on one of the directions, and Andy simply used the tried and true (yet not entirely unscientific) method known as, 'asking.' Each bus that went by he asked, until sure enough, one to Tanggu emerged. No markings. Just a brown, dented minibus with a driver and about 4 people inside. 'Fare?': about $1 USD. The time to get there?: 2 hours. Way longer than we could afford in our window. Sarah then saw a cab and flagged it down. Andy negotiated a price of $10 USD and we were off. However, he neglected to mention not just Tanggu, but THE DOCK in Tanggu. Which, in a 'small' Chinese city of about 2 million, is still quite a ways from the center. Once we 're'-negotiated the fare, we continued on our way, but not before the driver had to get out of the car and ask different passers-by where the docks were. Twice.

Luckily, we arrived at the ferry terminal outside the time window, but with enough time to board (the next one wasn't until a week later). And when the guidebook said there were no money options at the ferry terminal, they meant it. Almost. We did manage to find out that the cashier at the duty free shop was willing to change USD to Yen or Yuan to Yen (but not Euros to Yen) and that you could change those same currencies actually on the boat (and, incidentally, pay with Yuan), but still the boat was not set up to take credit cards at all and there were no ATM's to be found anywhere (Sarah had been right all along). Not a single one at the terminal or on the boat. Since we had to pay an extra, like $30-40 each for a 'fuel' and 'luggage' tax (2 seperate charges complete with two seperate windows), we found ourselves with almost no Yuan with only a couple of buckets of dried noodles to our name. With visions of a two-day boat ride and few money options, Andy was already thinking of ways to obtain loans from fellow passengers to be paid back in Yen upon reaching the Kobe ATM's. Luckily, we still had a few USD with us and did not have to go hungry -- although the food on the ferry was so bad, we seriously considered hunger a very viable option more than once. Think, 'slightly warmed over' as an overall theme and let your mind go crazy from there. Sarah's unhappiness about the 7:30 AM wakeup call was further exacerbated by the revolting breakfast they dared to call 'free.' Kind of like 'torture' or 'misery' might be ok if it were free.

Amazingly, other than the food, the boat was quite enjoyable. Our cabin had a TV (even though it only broadcast pirated movies -- ones shot with a camcorder in the theatre -- that were mostly dubbed and rarely subtitled -- on its closed circuit network). There was hot water and green tea waiting in our room. A sauna (which wasn't really that warm -- and actually barely broke a sweat-- but it was there), a tepid pool, a room listed as 'game room' but was really storage for beds and laundry room on board. The staff were all surprisingly pleasant and helpful -- and there was even a Karaoke hour. For some reason, the only locals-sung, English song that kept coming up was Billy Joel's ''Honesty...'' (is such a lonely word...

It was a very relaxing two days and was fun seeing the southern islands of South Korea glide by at the beginning of day 2, with unforgettable highlights including passing under the enormously high Shimonseki bridge (Japan) at midnight as well as the other marvelously engineered bridges further into Japan.

We arrived in Kobe on day 2 at about 1pm. Passed through passport control pleased that we brought a photocopy of a ferry schedule as Japan usually requires evidence of onward travel (even though we couldn't purchase a ticket in China). He took the photocopy as 'evidence' and we went in. Then, for some reason, customs takes us aside to a back room for a cursory luggage search that can be best described 'lip service.' He made us take everything out of our packs (which Sarah was none too happy about after a meticulous packing job just an hour before), but never really looked inside the clothes or in our stuff sacks which contained two entire sleeping bags.

That said, Japan turned out to be a civilized oasis of wonders. We stayed with cousins Malaina and Jan and son Jolon in Hiroshima and would use it as a kind of base for the next couple of weeks to explore the island(s) with foreigners' rail passes purchased two months before in Helsinki. The first bullet train pulled away from the station at 7pm as we reached a speed of about 150 mph bound for Hiroshima.

The Middle Kingdom

It seemed the train traveled the most circuitous route possible exiting Ulan Bataar, but it made for all the more thrilling scenery. Tracks winding East, then South, then Southwest and back to East and then South again through the small mountains and grassland, surrounding countless Ger camps and roaming herds until we straightened out for our rendevous with China. About 4 hours later, the grassland started to become more and more sparse, with dirt in between clumps of grass until finally it gave way to grass and sand (similar to a sand dune), then, finally all beige-ish colored sand.

As the stops along the way became increasingly blistering hot (July 6), it was the one in the middle of the Gobi desert which stood out. An abandoned railway station (no ticket windows/only some painters) and about a hundred houses scattered through the wavy air (Las Vegas style) and everything with a white-washed look -- even though they weren't -- while the platform baked with touts.

We got back on, then for about the next 6 or 7 hours it was all sand. We took advantage of the restaurant car --- even
though the air conditioning was almost nil -- there were a lot of european tourists on this train, mostly German and French. Perhaps our most bizarre sight was, at about the very middle of our journey through the desert, we saw someone riding a
mountain bike in the middle of the sand, with a scarf covering and a large backpack filling with what looked like complete camping gear. It also looked as if he was traveling the length of the desert on bike and we wondered how he could even gain proper 'footing' in the sand much less endure the heat.

Gradually, grass began to re-emerge. At this point, it was very repetitive scenery (except for the occasional worker and dog) and after what seemed like another day (in reality, it was about 4 hours) the endless concrete fence posts with barbed wire appeared. We thought it might be for extra border security but really think it was just for the cattle. Nevertheless, the fence extended continuously for 40 or 50 miles.

At about 8pm, we reached the Chinese border and the train stopped. As did the air conditioning and use of the toilets. But formalities were fairly straightforward, and after about 45 minutes, we were on our way to 'The Shed' (air still off and toilets still locked however) which was straightforward but time consuming. Instead of disembarking for another train at the border to accomodate more narrow Chinese tracks than Russia's/Mongolia's (The only size like this in the world), the system is in place to change all of the carriage's wheels, or more precisely the entire undercarriage known as the 'bogies.'

Everyone in this case stayed on the train while their carriage was slowly raised by special hydraulic lifts and the new bogies slid underneath. All in all, for each carriage to be re-fitted, took about two hours. And the only view we had was the interior of a metal shed with flourescent orange lighting. No getting off and, of course, the power was off and restrooms were locked the entire time. Somehow in the back of your mind, you know they have a system down that's been in place for years with reasons for every detail -- costs and time considerations as well as passenger's safety and comfort must well thought out -- but still in this mind and body numbing state, you can't help but think that, ''My God, please, there's got to be a better way!!!'' Oh yeah, that would be taking a flight.

When we were done, unexplainable some kind of fire was set underneath the previous blase Chinese workers because, after a couple of shouts, they all started running full speed out of the shed! We, of course, just assumed it was normal. Crossing into China after that at about 1am, was pretty magical though. All of a sudden the streets were filled with bikes and a lively mysterious buzz in the air as a group of 'Hell's Angelish'-type mopeds reved their engines along side of us as kind of an symbolic motorcade offering.

We stopped at Erlian, in the Hebei provice (lots of manufacturing and coal), had our first taste of Chinese plums and got cold water. But still no toilet existed at the stop! Back on the train, the toilets were finally opened (4 hours later) and we slept our most peaceful night of the journey yet. The Mongolian attendants (we wouldn't dare call them 'podvinistas') were laid back and approachable. One even kept asking Sarah for the time on her watch and kept using it as the 'official' one. At the end of the journey, they even passed around a guest book for people to sign with names, comments and email.

The morning waking up to the Chinese landscape couldn't have been more different than before. Lush, green farms and rice fields -- even corn. Farmers in hats on bikes and all sorts of old three-wheeled, gas-powered contraptions. It did seem odd that so many were working in the fields solo however.

Then came the afternoon, our first sight of the Great Wall (set into a deep mist and plunging at a 60 degree angle down a mountain near Badaling) and pulling into Beijing (which took longer than one would think as we found out Greater Beijing Municipality was essentially the size of Belgium). Population: about 12 million.


The change upon arrival was equally drastic. There was still somewhat a 'rubble' environment (as Mongolia), but the people were thriving and there seemed to be constant energy and life, even if it was just sitting on a stool in the street, eating boiled peanuts or soybeans, and hawking lots of phlegm (the cultural norm). Yes, Beijing was dirty, but compared to Russia, it was also very relaxed (without sacrificing energy and enthusiasm for life). And you didn't feel like you were going to be scammed at every moment. The best way to see it by far was to jump in.

And that we did. For the next two weeks we saw the Great Wall, Tieneman Square (our guide refused to bring up the 1989 'incident' as he said there were many police in 'plain clothes' listening), The Forbidden City, biked the length and breadth of this thriving, gigantic capital and enjoyed more than our share of outstanding cuisine, for complete dinners with incredible flavors and vibrant spices of fresh pepper, ginger and cumin (the 'taste of Beijing' as we would call it, bore little resemblence to Chinese food in New York) -- the cost: about $5 USD every time.

Our hotel even had free Internet. Albeit most of the sites (including this 'Overland') were blocked by the government. We also got our Vietnamese visa. After applying and waiting for our Pakistani visa for two days - many times in the sweltering heat of the office, we were told by an official that they had 'more important things to do,' -- which was odd because we thought that was the very purpose of the Visa Issuing Division of the Pakistani Consulate. After someone else asked him about a timetable, he replied that he couldn't say for sure and furthermore, 'how long does it takes for us to get a visa in your country?' The person responded, 'I don't know a long time? I guess now I can kinda see why.''






At this point, we figured it was time to get the hell out of Beijing. Sarah had a traveler's food reaction (funny tummy) the next day, so we pushed back our departure to Saturday and took the train to Tianjin, a 'small' port city of over 9 million. Our plan was to the get to the docks in nearby Tanggu (TAHN-GOO) Monday morning then catch the once-a-week ferry and set out in the East China Sea bound for Japan, or, more specifically, the port city of Kobe -- a 2-day trip on the water.