Listening: Stay on the streets of this town and they'll be carving you up alright. They say you got to stay hungry. Hey, baby, I'm just about starving tonight.
What's my problem? I'm afraid of the dark?
It was dark when I arrived in Shanghai. Customs was kind of a joke. Not to say that they just let anyone breeze by, but for a strict communist regime, I expected to at least have my bags opened is not a body cavity search. Well, I wasn't expecting a body cavity search, but even at passport control there was at least one hottie telling people to move along.
At the baggage carousel, I encountered a middle aged white guy wearing a Red Sox cap. Apparently, he was on my same flight, and I used this opportunity to knock the rust off of my typical icebreaker of, "So, where you from?"
It turned out that he was from Southie but he worked in Michigan. Small world. It was a pretty good ease into a place where I knew I wouldn't feel at ease. Apparently, he had a woman "friend" who was a local and was going to see her. I know that I have woman friends in various countries, but when I hear that a middle aged white guy has a woman "friend" in a foreign country, it automatically throws up a red flag in my mind. It's not that he was the typical overweight, balding, poorly dressed middle aged white man in khakis and sneakers. He was a respectably good looking middle aged white man in jeans and a button-down shirt in smart shoes. Even though he had a baseball cap on, I could tell he had a full head of hair, but that was neither here nor there. The red flag went up, and once a flag goes up, I tend to let the ruling on the field stand.
When we got out of customs, we parted ways. I immediately looked for the bank that was partnered with my bank in the States. I found out that I could withdraw money from those ATMs without any service charges. I would only have to deal with the current day's foreign exchange rate.
Travel Tip: When traveling abroad, go to your bank and find out if they have any partner banks in the country that you're traveling to. It can save you tons on transaction fees. It's also a good idea to notify your bank as to your international travel plans so they don't freeze your account for potential fraud.
The problem was that I had the bank name listed on a piece of paper deep in my pack. I knew that the bank had the word "Construction" in the name, but, as I quickly found out, there is more than one bank in China that incorporates the word "Construction" in it. I didn't know that. So I go to the first ATM with the word "Construction" on it, ICBC or International Construction Bank of China. I put in my ATM card and it tells me that it can't give me any money. I'm like, "what the hell?!?" I tried it three times to no avail.
There was another ATM next to the ICBC ATM, so I sucked it up and used my other ATM card in the other ATM. The fact that my primary ATM card couldn't even pull out cash, let alone pull out cash without a transaction fee worried me, so I pulled out the maximum that I could get.
When I get out to the cab stand, I see the guy from Southie again. He says that his woman "friend" lives in Puxi (west of the Huangpu River). I thought that I was going to Pudong (east of the river). He asked me if I wanted to share a cab and that we could drop me off first and then him. However, since that red flag was still there, I opted out. I knew nothing about Shanghai other than the cursory knowledge I picked up from my Rough Guide.
I hate taking taxis in places that I'm unfamiliar with. There's so much potential to be literally and figuratively taken for a ride. I had my hotel details printed out in both Chines and in English and showed the cab stand attendant the paper. The cab driver and the attendant exchanged words, and the paper was handed back to me and I in turn handed it to the cab driver when I entered the cab. He started driving, but after twenty feet or so, he stopped, popped out of the cab and went back to the attendant to, only what I could assume, ask him a question about how to get there.
The roads between Shanghai's Pudong International Airport and The Bund are virtually empty at half past midnight. We flew long the freeway on fly overs and elevated roads, watching the bright lamp post pass me by, not only from in front of me, but from the roads beneath me.
A few times in the journey, the taxi driver asked me, I think, little questions on how to get to my hotel. I was damned if I knew, but I used one of the few phrases that has stuck in my head from my three years of Mandarin classes, "Dui bu qi. Wo ting bu dong. (I'm sorry, I don't understand.)"
When we did finally pull up to the hotel, I figured out that the straight shot that we drove was, in fact, the right way to be going. The only misgiving that I had was that the trip was about a third more expensive than I anticipated. It was late. I was hungry, and I had a large enough stack of Maos in my pocket, that I let it go. On top of that, my guidebook was two years old. As I found out, China changes very rapidly.
Now, when I got out of the cab, I immediately thought to myself, "What have I gotten myself into?" The area around my hotel, when I looked around, seemed rather desolate. There were large, four lane streets, but not a lot of lights. The lone light source that I saw from the corner that my hotel was on was my hotel and the convenient store next door, which, conveniently, there was an entrance into right from the lobby.
When I went to check in, the lobby desk was empty. There was a man in a suit sitting at the public use computer, playing cards, rockin' a cigarette that needed to be ashed five drags ago. Immediately, he snapped up off the stool, dropping his butt into the ashtray, and ran behind the desk.
He greeted me in Mandarin.
"Check in?" I said.
He looked confused.
"Umm... reservation? "
I pulled out my printout from agoda.com that had all of my check in information.
"Ah. Hao, hao. (Right, right) Check. In."
As he pulls up my reservation in the computer, a rather attractive girl in a black business suit appears out of nowhere and makes her way behind the desk. She takes my passport and processes it with the scanner and asks me for the first time, but far from the last time over my trip, where my entry point was. See, it seems that the person at passport control didn't really stamp hard enough, so the Pudong details weren't really legible. I must have had to answer that question at least twenty times when checking into hotels and hostels.
Traveler Tip: Always check your entry and exit stamps when you go through passport control. If they miss-stamp your passport with the wrong date or people can't verify your entry and exit, you're the one liable. If someone stamps you with the wrong date and your visa is "expired" because of that date, you might get booted from the country.
After I checked in, I'm brought up to my room. It's small, as promised on the internet, but it's enough for me. It's a hell of a lot more luxurious than any of the other places that I stayed during the rest of my travels. The guy from check in leaves me and I look around the room. My room was supposed to have an in-room safe, but I couldn't seem to find it. I always book my first few nights in a comfortable room with an in-room safe so that I can adjust to the new time zone without having to worry about other people in the room with me and the safe so that I can spend the first few days with most of my valuables locked up free to roam about the new environment with only cash and ID in my pocket.
When I figured out that there was no in-room safe, I went back down to reception to ask where it was. The people at reception didn't understand what I was asking for, so we turned to the computer. Luckily, I knew that Google knows all and that it has a translator. So I typed the word "safe." Then he typed back asking me if I thought that the hotel was "unsafe." I reworded my question. I told him via Google translator that agoda.com said that there would be a safe locker or safe box in the room that I could keep things in. Then there was the "A-ha!" moment in his brain. He told me that there were no in-room safes, but if I wanted to keep anything at the front desk, it would be perfectly safe there. I declined.
Upon returning to my room, I unpacked, locked up my Pacsafe to the shower door handle with the towel draped over it, re-packed and headed back downstairs to fill my incredibly empty stomach. I asked if there were any places still serving food around the hotel. He pointed me up the street, the dark sketchy street.
Reluctantly, I started walking. To be honest, I was a little creeped out. There was no traffic on the road. There really wasn't anyone walking on the streets, save for a couple of groups of drunk kids (as opposed to winos). Lamp posts flickered at times, and storefronts were closed up. Aside from the convenient store at my hotel, I found two other convenient stores (none of which had local sim cards), a 24 hour fast food noodle shop and a KFC. I was unimpressed with the selection after four blocks, so I kept walking. It just seemed to get bleaker and bleaker. So, I turned around, went back to my hotel and walked a few blocks perpendicular to the street I was walking on. Nothing. So, I resigned myself to going to the fast food noodle joint, because I'll be damned if I'm going to support KFC's takeover of the world. That, and bums LOVE to crash at KFCs, at least in China.
That first meal in China wasn't bad... but it sure wasn't good. It was a beef noodle soup that was lacking in any real flavor. Sure, it was cheap and it filled the tank, but you knew that there was no love going into this food. The girls working the register were just short of falling asleep, as was the rest of the staff if they weren't playing cards. The one guy who was in there when I walked in finished as I was waiting for my food. I was the lone man in a restaurant, something I aspire to never be.
By the time I got back to my room, it was half past two in the morning. I survived, what I thought, was the sketchiness of the street, but was still a little bit wound up. So, to the convenient store, I went. One beer down the hatch and nighty-night.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Day 0.5 - Can't a Guy Get a Break?
Listening: Ships may never leave the dock, but it don't matter, but it don't matter. Ticks may never hear a tock, but it don't matter, but it don't matter.
What's my problem? I've got bad wing-person luck.
Well, I'm on my long haul flight from San Francisco to Hong Kong where I'll be laid over for a couple of hours before continuing on to Shanghai. The flight is almost over. I have just over two hours left to go before we land. So far, I have used my twelve hours airborne rather well. I've slept a little. I watched "Iron Man II," "The Hurt Locker," and "Cyrus." And I started reading Lost on Planet China.
The food, this time around, was a little sub-par compared with the past flight that I had with Cathay Pacific. The worst part about it was the fact that I was so hungry that I scarfed it all down with a quickness. To tell you the truth, I'm still hungry and I'm debating getting a free cup o' noodles that you can ask for.
It's amazing how parched you get on long haul flights. I've been drinking water like a madman since the fourth hour in the air. I started off with a gin bloody mary and had some South African beer with lunch, but after that it was just tea, water and some airborne. An hour or so ago, I sat back in the galley and sucked down four glasses of water.
My flight to San Jose, which was also somewhat of a long haul flight was less than what I expected. For the first time in years, I flew Jet Blue for a leg that was longer than the distance between Nantucket and JFK International Airport. I remember Jet Blue being a really good flight. And I have to say that I have definitely had worse. However, there were several things that made it kind of crappy.
The first thing that happened was that my little personal entertainment module was on the fritz. It was on the fritz for my entire row. See, that was one of the reasons that I picked the Jet Blue flight to San Jose instead of Delta. Reason number one was that it was a direct flight with no switching of planes and no layovers. Number two was that I would spend four hours traveling instead of eight. Finally, reason number three is that I thought that I might actually have the entertainment of my choice on the plane.
As you can see, reason number three didn't really happen. I just kind of crashed out, wrote a blog and re-read the section of my Rough Guide on Shanghai (and I still feel thoroughly ill-prepared). I also watched over the shoulders of the people diagonally in front of me as the San Francisco Giants, yet again, shamed the Texas Rangers. Occasionally, over my headphones, I would hear cheers whenever someone scored, but, overall, I was in a sad little cocoon next to a guy who was neither interesting nor talkative. Someone around me, though, was dropping major ass throughout the entire four hour flight.
As far as reason number two goes, well, that almost went out the window. We were supposed to take off at 4:25PM. We didn't start boarding until 4:45PM. By the time we were all in our seats, it was probably around 5:00PM. We start backing out of the gate when the lights in the cabin goes dark and all of the TVs shut off. Apparently, the auxiliary generator went kaput and we had to go back to the gate so that someone could fix it. They assured us that the generator on the fritz is never used during flight, and only on the ground or at the gate. I have to say that it did kind of worry me, but what're you going to do? You can't just unbuckle and say, "fuck dis shit, I'm outta here and I want my money back too!"
But all in all, I did get to San Jose just fine. I chilled with my pals and had some cocktails and some bibimbap.
As far as this current flight goes, it's much the same as it pertains to the people that I'm sitting near. I was actually originally ticketed to sit in a middle seat, something that I despise. Luckily, the two guys on either side of me were together, and there was a third guy who had an aisle seat behind me. So I traded my middle seat for the aisle and I have to say that I was pretty happy about the decision. I like to walk around at least every three hours and crawling over people ain't my idea of a good time. I don't like other people's asses in my face, so I don't like putting my ass in others'.
But next to me are two, seemingly nice, but quiet, older Indian women. It seems like there are a lot of people on this flight who are Indian. I think that Hong Kong may be a big hub to get to Mumbai or Dehli or something.
Across the aisle from me is a VERY attractive girl, who I noticed in the gate area. What I didn't notice was that she had a little tag on her jacket that said, "Sister Lo, The Church of Jesus Christ for Latter Day Saints." I saw that tag when she sat down and it broke my heart. To top it all off, she had a bible that was three inches, by four inches by three inches. Fucker was thick, and looking over her shoulder, it was highlighted like a motherfucker. What leads people to try to be conversionists? Why can't the just be normal attractive girls that I can ooggle without being disgusted with both her AND myself?
Something that I've noticed on these two long haul flights that I have never noticed before.... No matter how short I am, my inside knee always aches after a little while. What I mean is that if I'm sitting in a seat to the left of the aisle, my left knee hurts, and if I sit to the right of the aisle, my right knee hurts. The fucked up thing about it is that I'm short. I have about a twenty eight inch inseam, if not shorter. I can only imagine if I were one of the guys that I know who are six foot or taller. How the hell do they do this without wanting to amputate their legs at the knee? I, for the most part, can stretch out my legs, but I bet that my pal Manni has his knees up to his chin. However, for some reason my inside knee still hurts (today it's the left knee).
A lot of people have been asking me lately if I'm excited to go to China. Sure, I'm excited. But my excitement this time around is quite different from my excitement when I traveled around Europe and when I traveled southeast Asia. I feel like this time I'm much more nervous and scared of what I may encounter. I have heard rumors about a lack of personal space. I have heard rumors of rudeness, but I have no real clue what I'll be encountering and how it will all affect me. Will I be turned off by the motherland? Will I feel violated by the lack of personal space? I have no clue. Will I have trouble getting from point A to point B without being able to speak or read Chinese? All of these things scare me. They're nothing like what I had dealt with on my other travels. The backpacker route has been relatively well worn in Europe and southeast Asia. Not so much in China. It is done, but it's not as easy as it is in other parts of the world. Keep in mind that it wasn't until recently that China really opened its borders to tourism, let alone budget tourism. Will I be able to hack it?
Anyhow, that's where I am with the traveling right now. I hope to post this when I get to Hong Kong, before I head off to Shanghai and maybe encounter the Great Firewall of China. So, if this is the last you hear from me, know that I'm hungry, parched and that my left knee hurts, but chances are that I'll be stuffed to the gills with dumplings in under six hours. Boo-yah, bitches.
ADDITION! - So, I'm in Hong Kong's airport and 60% of their food court is under construction. That means the remaining 40% is swamped. And THAT means that I don't have enough time to get a snack before I board. SONUVA..... I guess that really does mean I'm going hunting the second that I check into my hotel. So. Hungry. Must. Find. Food. Too bad I can't just gnaw on an air hostess.
What's my problem? I've got bad wing-person luck.
Well, I'm on my long haul flight from San Francisco to Hong Kong where I'll be laid over for a couple of hours before continuing on to Shanghai. The flight is almost over. I have just over two hours left to go before we land. So far, I have used my twelve hours airborne rather well. I've slept a little. I watched "Iron Man II," "The Hurt Locker," and "Cyrus." And I started reading Lost on Planet China.
The food, this time around, was a little sub-par compared with the past flight that I had with Cathay Pacific. The worst part about it was the fact that I was so hungry that I scarfed it all down with a quickness. To tell you the truth, I'm still hungry and I'm debating getting a free cup o' noodles that you can ask for.
It's amazing how parched you get on long haul flights. I've been drinking water like a madman since the fourth hour in the air. I started off with a gin bloody mary and had some South African beer with lunch, but after that it was just tea, water and some airborne. An hour or so ago, I sat back in the galley and sucked down four glasses of water.
My flight to San Jose, which was also somewhat of a long haul flight was less than what I expected. For the first time in years, I flew Jet Blue for a leg that was longer than the distance between Nantucket and JFK International Airport. I remember Jet Blue being a really good flight. And I have to say that I have definitely had worse. However, there were several things that made it kind of crappy.
The first thing that happened was that my little personal entertainment module was on the fritz. It was on the fritz for my entire row. See, that was one of the reasons that I picked the Jet Blue flight to San Jose instead of Delta. Reason number one was that it was a direct flight with no switching of planes and no layovers. Number two was that I would spend four hours traveling instead of eight. Finally, reason number three is that I thought that I might actually have the entertainment of my choice on the plane.
As you can see, reason number three didn't really happen. I just kind of crashed out, wrote a blog and re-read the section of my Rough Guide on Shanghai (and I still feel thoroughly ill-prepared). I also watched over the shoulders of the people diagonally in front of me as the San Francisco Giants, yet again, shamed the Texas Rangers. Occasionally, over my headphones, I would hear cheers whenever someone scored, but, overall, I was in a sad little cocoon next to a guy who was neither interesting nor talkative. Someone around me, though, was dropping major ass throughout the entire four hour flight.
As far as reason number two goes, well, that almost went out the window. We were supposed to take off at 4:25PM. We didn't start boarding until 4:45PM. By the time we were all in our seats, it was probably around 5:00PM. We start backing out of the gate when the lights in the cabin goes dark and all of the TVs shut off. Apparently, the auxiliary generator went kaput and we had to go back to the gate so that someone could fix it. They assured us that the generator on the fritz is never used during flight, and only on the ground or at the gate. I have to say that it did kind of worry me, but what're you going to do? You can't just unbuckle and say, "fuck dis shit, I'm outta here and I want my money back too!"
But all in all, I did get to San Jose just fine. I chilled with my pals and had some cocktails and some bibimbap.
As far as this current flight goes, it's much the same as it pertains to the people that I'm sitting near. I was actually originally ticketed to sit in a middle seat, something that I despise. Luckily, the two guys on either side of me were together, and there was a third guy who had an aisle seat behind me. So I traded my middle seat for the aisle and I have to say that I was pretty happy about the decision. I like to walk around at least every three hours and crawling over people ain't my idea of a good time. I don't like other people's asses in my face, so I don't like putting my ass in others'.
But next to me are two, seemingly nice, but quiet, older Indian women. It seems like there are a lot of people on this flight who are Indian. I think that Hong Kong may be a big hub to get to Mumbai or Dehli or something.
Across the aisle from me is a VERY attractive girl, who I noticed in the gate area. What I didn't notice was that she had a little tag on her jacket that said, "Sister Lo, The Church of Jesus Christ for Latter Day Saints." I saw that tag when she sat down and it broke my heart. To top it all off, she had a bible that was three inches, by four inches by three inches. Fucker was thick, and looking over her shoulder, it was highlighted like a motherfucker. What leads people to try to be conversionists? Why can't the just be normal attractive girls that I can ooggle without being disgusted with both her AND myself?
Something that I've noticed on these two long haul flights that I have never noticed before.... No matter how short I am, my inside knee always aches after a little while. What I mean is that if I'm sitting in a seat to the left of the aisle, my left knee hurts, and if I sit to the right of the aisle, my right knee hurts. The fucked up thing about it is that I'm short. I have about a twenty eight inch inseam, if not shorter. I can only imagine if I were one of the guys that I know who are six foot or taller. How the hell do they do this without wanting to amputate their legs at the knee? I, for the most part, can stretch out my legs, but I bet that my pal Manni has his knees up to his chin. However, for some reason my inside knee still hurts (today it's the left knee).
A lot of people have been asking me lately if I'm excited to go to China. Sure, I'm excited. But my excitement this time around is quite different from my excitement when I traveled around Europe and when I traveled southeast Asia. I feel like this time I'm much more nervous and scared of what I may encounter. I have heard rumors about a lack of personal space. I have heard rumors of rudeness, but I have no real clue what I'll be encountering and how it will all affect me. Will I be turned off by the motherland? Will I feel violated by the lack of personal space? I have no clue. Will I have trouble getting from point A to point B without being able to speak or read Chinese? All of these things scare me. They're nothing like what I had dealt with on my other travels. The backpacker route has been relatively well worn in Europe and southeast Asia. Not so much in China. It is done, but it's not as easy as it is in other parts of the world. Keep in mind that it wasn't until recently that China really opened its borders to tourism, let alone budget tourism. Will I be able to hack it?
Anyhow, that's where I am with the traveling right now. I hope to post this when I get to Hong Kong, before I head off to Shanghai and maybe encounter the Great Firewall of China. So, if this is the last you hear from me, know that I'm hungry, parched and that my left knee hurts, but chances are that I'll be stuffed to the gills with dumplings in under six hours. Boo-yah, bitches.
ADDITION! - So, I'm in Hong Kong's airport and 60% of their food court is under construction. That means the remaining 40% is swamped. And THAT means that I don't have enough time to get a snack before I board. SONUVA..... I guess that really does mean I'm going hunting the second that I check into my hotel. So. Hungry. Must. Find. Food. Too bad I can't just gnaw on an air hostess.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
For God's Sake, Smedley, Bow Your Head And Have Some Respect!
Listening: A moment of silence.
What's my problem? Good teachers die.
During my time in college, I had two professors that really impacted me. Two professors that to this day, I would still take a course from, despite my lacking use for college academia and classrooms. One is the everlastingly funny Jenny (formerly Jim) Boylan who I had the luxury of having for two semesters of creative writing workshops. The other is the now late, great, Charlie Bassett.
I learned of Charles Bassett's passing a couple of days after I left the island. With all of the chaos of getting a visa, packing, and seeing people that I hadn't seen in six months, I hadn't had time to properly memorialize him.
I remember my first day of class with him. The class, Hemingway and Fitzgerald, met in the basement of the library and it was a class that I had been trying to get into for a long time. It was a large classroom with desks arranged in a square with a larger desk at the head of the square closest to the blackboard.
All of us students were there waiting for the legendary Charles Bassett to make his entrance, I found myself wondering what was so good about this professor that everyone, whether they were an English or American Studies major or not, wanted to take his class. Had the college been in a third world country, one would have had to bribe a mid-level beauracrat with a handshake on the sly to get a spot in the class.
Now, enter Charles Bassett.
A stocky man wearing khakis, a khaki sports coat with patches on the elbows, white shirt, and a maroon knit tie, carrying a leather briefcase charged into the room. With haste, he throws his briefcase onto the desk, runs his hand up and down his perrenially red face a couple of times before running it through his mop of white hair and exhaling. Little did I know that this was how every one of his classes began.
From there he launches into his engaging discussion of modern American novelists while calling some by their last names and others the endearing name of "Smedley." His teaching style not only dropped mad amounts of knowledge into the beer-laden brains doing their best to wake up, but entertained in a style that could only be described as vaudeville. Bassett was a true raconteur, spinning insights, drawing in his audience and getting them to add to the story as well.
I have taken a number of Hemingway classes over the course of my educational career, but none were as enlightening or as fun as the one with Bassett. He got excited about concepts and prose and got us all excited too. He got whipped up into such a state where spittle would collect at the corners of his mouth and could occasionally project itself onto some poor, unsuspecting co-ed.
Bassett had a zest or a zeal for life that should be aspired to by anyone, anywhere. You could tell that he had a limited attention span for bullshit and a limitless love for beer. On any given evening you could have found him, not at home, but at the pub hanging out with his beloved students and the students who loved him as well.
He had infinite patience for the earnest (and the Ernest), having all of the time in the world for a student who needed help with, not only his class, but with the classes of his colleagues.
When I think of Charlie Bassett, I think of the type of educator that every educator should strive to be, and every student should have the opportunity to learn from. If everyone was as passionate about their chosen profession as Bassett was, the world would be a better place. People would accel in their fields and would raise the level of intellect and imagination of the world as a whole. Unfortunately, not every professor is like Bassett, and not everyone chases the dragon like he does.
So, those who were lucky enough to be in his jovial presence, and who were insightful enough to look past the lessons of the class and see the lessons of the man, it's now our obligation to carry his spirit with us. It's up to us now to live with the zeal that he did. It's our job to pass on the enthusiasm. It's up to us to try to be the next Charles Bassett, although it's a tough order to live up to that, whether we do it in the classroom or out in the world.
So, to Charles Bassett, I raise a pint... or two. I can only hope and aspire to live with the passion, the compassion and the insightfulness that he did.
What's my problem? Good teachers die.
During my time in college, I had two professors that really impacted me. Two professors that to this day, I would still take a course from, despite my lacking use for college academia and classrooms. One is the everlastingly funny Jenny (formerly Jim) Boylan who I had the luxury of having for two semesters of creative writing workshops. The other is the now late, great, Charlie Bassett.
I learned of Charles Bassett's passing a couple of days after I left the island. With all of the chaos of getting a visa, packing, and seeing people that I hadn't seen in six months, I hadn't had time to properly memorialize him.
I remember my first day of class with him. The class, Hemingway and Fitzgerald, met in the basement of the library and it was a class that I had been trying to get into for a long time. It was a large classroom with desks arranged in a square with a larger desk at the head of the square closest to the blackboard.
All of us students were there waiting for the legendary Charles Bassett to make his entrance, I found myself wondering what was so good about this professor that everyone, whether they were an English or American Studies major or not, wanted to take his class. Had the college been in a third world country, one would have had to bribe a mid-level beauracrat with a handshake on the sly to get a spot in the class.
Now, enter Charles Bassett.
A stocky man wearing khakis, a khaki sports coat with patches on the elbows, white shirt, and a maroon knit tie, carrying a leather briefcase charged into the room. With haste, he throws his briefcase onto the desk, runs his hand up and down his perrenially red face a couple of times before running it through his mop of white hair and exhaling. Little did I know that this was how every one of his classes began.
From there he launches into his engaging discussion of modern American novelists while calling some by their last names and others the endearing name of "Smedley." His teaching style not only dropped mad amounts of knowledge into the beer-laden brains doing their best to wake up, but entertained in a style that could only be described as vaudeville. Bassett was a true raconteur, spinning insights, drawing in his audience and getting them to add to the story as well.
I have taken a number of Hemingway classes over the course of my educational career, but none were as enlightening or as fun as the one with Bassett. He got excited about concepts and prose and got us all excited too. He got whipped up into such a state where spittle would collect at the corners of his mouth and could occasionally project itself onto some poor, unsuspecting co-ed.
Bassett had a zest or a zeal for life that should be aspired to by anyone, anywhere. You could tell that he had a limited attention span for bullshit and a limitless love for beer. On any given evening you could have found him, not at home, but at the pub hanging out with his beloved students and the students who loved him as well.
He had infinite patience for the earnest (and the Ernest), having all of the time in the world for a student who needed help with, not only his class, but with the classes of his colleagues.
When I think of Charlie Bassett, I think of the type of educator that every educator should strive to be, and every student should have the opportunity to learn from. If everyone was as passionate about their chosen profession as Bassett was, the world would be a better place. People would accel in their fields and would raise the level of intellect and imagination of the world as a whole. Unfortunately, not every professor is like Bassett, and not everyone chases the dragon like he does.
So, those who were lucky enough to be in his jovial presence, and who were insightful enough to look past the lessons of the class and see the lessons of the man, it's now our obligation to carry his spirit with us. It's up to us now to live with the zeal that he did. It's our job to pass on the enthusiasm. It's up to us to try to be the next Charles Bassett, although it's a tough order to live up to that, whether we do it in the classroom or out in the world.
So, to Charles Bassett, I raise a pint... or two. I can only hope and aspire to live with the passion, the compassion and the insightfulness that he did.
Monday, November 1, 2010
T-4 Hours To Lift Off: My Kit.
Listening: Fear not when or fear not why. Fear not much while we're alive. Life is for living not living uptight until you're somewhere up in the sky.
What's my problem? Woke up too early, went back to sleep, woke up late, now no time to get sum'in to eat.
Coffee in hand. E'rything alright. Got a few hours b'fo my flight. Throwin' down blog. Showin' my kit. Makin' nine-to-fivers jealous li'l gits.
Well, that's a first. Never have rapped on a blog. If you're curious, I was channeling my inner Jay-Z.
It's 12:38 right......NOW. In a mere few hours, I'll be on a direct flight to San Jose. So, for both insurance purposes and to let people know what I'll be hauling around with me for the next couple of months, here we go with the kit list!
The Shoes: Keen Briggs Shoe, Keen Newport H2 Sandals, and POS flip flops I got in Ko Phangan.
The Pack: EMS Long Trail II. It's been a long time since they stopped producing this pack, but it's gotten me through a couple of trips around Europe, and a trip through southeast Asia. No reason to switch it up now.
Packing Cubes... An invaluable way of keeping your clothes and your pack organized.
(Starting in the upper left and going clockwise and then in) Mountainsmith Tour Pack (aka Man Purse), EMS Pack duffel, 3 Liter drybag, Pacsafe 100 Travel safe, pack towel, coolmax sleep sheet, laundry bag, money belt.
5 pairs EMS quick drying Techwick drawls, 2 pair Smartwool hiking socks, 2 pair Smartwool "Comfy" socks, 1 pair lightweight socks, 2 pair EMS convert pants, 1 pair Gap recruit pants, 1 pair imitation Billabong swim trunks, 1 pair Thai style pants.
1 EMS fleece vest, 1 North Face water resistant shell, 1 Oakley water resistant hoody, 1 Hot Chilli's long sleeved thermal, 1 Banana Republic synthetic long sleeved tee, 1 H&M long sleeved tee, 1 Hanes Tee, 1 blue H&M tee, 1 Express wrinkle free dress shirt, 1 cotton/linen shirt Ieva gave me, 1 Kenneth Cole short sleeved polo style shirt, 1 Mammut short sleeved button down shirt, 1 Patagonia short sleeved button down shirt.
Printed out pertinent info including copies of passport, copies if visa, airline reservations, hotel reservations, maps to US consulates, passports with extra photos and immunization card, 2 notebooks, 1 pair spare glasses, business cards in case, HOOT!, front pocket wallet with cards, chain wallet with cards & passport card, 3 Benjamins, keys, diver's logbook & safety chart, change pouches with foreign currency, Rough Guide to China and J. Maarten Troost's Lost on Planet China.
Universal plug adapter, voltage converter, USB SD card reader, Acer Aspire One & charger, Blackberry Pearl & charger, 160GB iPod Classic, Voda earbuds, USB AC adapter, Black Diamond Gizmo headlamp, 8GB, 4GB, & 32MB SDHC cards, Hong Kong plug adapter, watch, Canon extra battery & charger (not pictured: Canon SD890 IS Digital Elph & 8GB SDHC card)
Toiletries... Who really gives a fuck about this stuff? And I'm short on time.
Laundry gear.
This is all of the stuff staying in San Jose and going to Vancouver with me.
The trusty Samsonite carry-on.
Leather Jacket from Florence, Adidas wooly hat, Quicksilver sweater.
1 3-button black suit, 1 pin-stripe gray vest, 1 pair gray Gap pants, 1 skinny black tie, 1 silver DKNY tie, 1 Victorinox pocketwatch.
3 Button-down shirts.
1 Pair Gap jeans, 3 pair Old Navy cotton boxers, 4 random tee shirts, 1 pair EMS hiking socks, 1 pair Hanes cotton socks.
1 pair Timberland boots.
So that's everything I'm leaving the house with, including what I have on. There may be a few odds and ends missing like the Sharpie I keep in my pocket and my eyeglass cloth, but for the most part it's accurate. It's now 1:39PM. I plan on leaving the house in about a half hour. It's certainly coming down to it.
Oh yeah. If any of you have SKYPE, I just joined, so I can chat with people on the Acer that I'm bringing with me to China. So, send me your info and I'll link it up to you.
*Whew* I feel like I'm ready but I'm not ready to go. I have 36 hours or so of time in California before I take the twenty hour trip to Shanghai. I should be blogging before I head over the ocean. If I don't and if the Great Firewall of China stops me from blogging, don't panic until December 22nd.
And if I never return, remember: Life is short. Put tasty things in your mouth.
What's my problem? Woke up too early, went back to sleep, woke up late, now no time to get sum'in to eat.
Coffee in hand. E'rything alright. Got a few hours b'fo my flight. Throwin' down blog. Showin' my kit. Makin' nine-to-fivers jealous li'l gits.
Well, that's a first. Never have rapped on a blog. If you're curious, I was channeling my inner Jay-Z.
It's 12:38 right......NOW. In a mere few hours, I'll be on a direct flight to San Jose. So, for both insurance purposes and to let people know what I'll be hauling around with me for the next couple of months, here we go with the kit list!
The Shoes: Keen Briggs Shoe, Keen Newport H2 Sandals, and POS flip flops I got in Ko Phangan.
The Pack: EMS Long Trail II. It's been a long time since they stopped producing this pack, but it's gotten me through a couple of trips around Europe, and a trip through southeast Asia. No reason to switch it up now.
Packing Cubes... An invaluable way of keeping your clothes and your pack organized.
(Starting in the upper left and going clockwise and then in) Mountainsmith Tour Pack (aka Man Purse), EMS Pack duffel, 3 Liter drybag, Pacsafe 100 Travel safe, pack towel, coolmax sleep sheet, laundry bag, money belt.
5 pairs EMS quick drying Techwick drawls, 2 pair Smartwool hiking socks, 2 pair Smartwool "Comfy" socks, 1 pair lightweight socks, 2 pair EMS convert pants, 1 pair Gap recruit pants, 1 pair imitation Billabong swim trunks, 1 pair Thai style pants.
1 EMS fleece vest, 1 North Face water resistant shell, 1 Oakley water resistant hoody, 1 Hot Chilli's long sleeved thermal, 1 Banana Republic synthetic long sleeved tee, 1 H&M long sleeved tee, 1 Hanes Tee, 1 blue H&M tee, 1 Express wrinkle free dress shirt, 1 cotton/linen shirt Ieva gave me, 1 Kenneth Cole short sleeved polo style shirt, 1 Mammut short sleeved button down shirt, 1 Patagonia short sleeved button down shirt.
Printed out pertinent info including copies of passport, copies if visa, airline reservations, hotel reservations, maps to US consulates, passports with extra photos and immunization card, 2 notebooks, 1 pair spare glasses, business cards in case, HOOT!, front pocket wallet with cards, chain wallet with cards & passport card, 3 Benjamins, keys, diver's logbook & safety chart, change pouches with foreign currency, Rough Guide to China and J. Maarten Troost's Lost on Planet China.
Universal plug adapter, voltage converter, USB SD card reader, Acer Aspire One & charger, Blackberry Pearl & charger, 160GB iPod Classic, Voda earbuds, USB AC adapter, Black Diamond Gizmo headlamp, 8GB, 4GB, & 32MB SDHC cards, Hong Kong plug adapter, watch, Canon extra battery & charger (not pictured: Canon SD890 IS Digital Elph & 8GB SDHC card)
Toiletries... Who really gives a fuck about this stuff? And I'm short on time.
Laundry gear.
This is all of the stuff staying in San Jose and going to Vancouver with me.
The trusty Samsonite carry-on.
Leather Jacket from Florence, Adidas wooly hat, Quicksilver sweater.
1 3-button black suit, 1 pin-stripe gray vest, 1 pair gray Gap pants, 1 skinny black tie, 1 silver DKNY tie, 1 Victorinox pocketwatch.
3 Button-down shirts.
1 Pair Gap jeans, 3 pair Old Navy cotton boxers, 4 random tee shirts, 1 pair EMS hiking socks, 1 pair Hanes cotton socks.
1 pair Timberland boots.
So that's everything I'm leaving the house with, including what I have on. There may be a few odds and ends missing like the Sharpie I keep in my pocket and my eyeglass cloth, but for the most part it's accurate. It's now 1:39PM. I plan on leaving the house in about a half hour. It's certainly coming down to it.
Oh yeah. If any of you have SKYPE, I just joined, so I can chat with people on the Acer that I'm bringing with me to China. So, send me your info and I'll link it up to you.
*Whew* I feel like I'm ready but I'm not ready to go. I have 36 hours or so of time in California before I take the twenty hour trip to Shanghai. I should be blogging before I head over the ocean. If I don't and if the Great Firewall of China stops me from blogging, don't panic until December 22nd.
And if I never return, remember: Life is short. Put tasty things in your mouth.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
T-5 Days: Small Time Spies
Listening: I'm a failure at heart, but it seems I succeed when my heart feels the need to be helpful. It doesn't happen much and as a result, it's a rare thing.
What's my problem? Not being organized enough
You know in spy movies when a spy is on the run and he needs to make a break for the border? You know how he opens a drawer and pulls out five different passports and several different currencies? Well, I have one passport and several different currencies. Just five minutes ago, I opened up my secret spot that holds several envelopes and pouches. After sifting through the contents, I pulled out my Hong Kong and my Thai currencies for my trip. That's right. I have multiple currencies at hand. Yes, it's true that some of those said currencies no longer hold any value (Czech Krounas), and some countries' currencies hold very little value (Cambodian Riel), but I hold onto them for the hell of it.
I realize that it's not much, but some of these currencies are going to be enough to buy me snacks at airports in Hong Kong and Bangkok, two places that I will probably be going through during this trip (unless I decide to ditch the familiarity of Bangkok for the possibilities of Kuala Lumpur). So, I currently have 210HKD ($27.07 USD) and 220THB ($7.35 USD). See. Small time spy stuff. A real spy would at least have a thousand US dollars of each.
Anyhow, I have almost everything taken care of for my departure. My visa was a bit of an ordeal. See, I went down to New York City on Thursday to submit my passport to get my Chinese visa. I opted for the expedited service so that I could pick it up on Friday so I could come back to Boston on Saturday. It didn't work out so well. See, on the website, I recalled that the office was open from nine in the morning until half past noon, and then again from half past one until five in the evening. So, when they told me to pick the visa up on Friday after two in the afternoon, I thought that it would be fine if I picked it up at three. I didn't bother to look at the claim slip or the paper on the door to the consulate. It clearly stated that the hours were from nine in the morning until half past two in the afternoon. So, when I rolled up at three, the place was locked up tight. BASTARDS! It had already been a bad enough day with me locking my phone in my buddy's apartment and missing the train that would have gotten me into town right on time to meet my other friend for lunch. So, I did go back up to Boston on Saturday and trek back down on Monday to pick up my visa. Eight hours on a bus in one day. I guess it was just training for my flight to China, huh? It's not like I haven't done long haul flights before.
The good part about my trip to New York City was that I went and ate at Fatty Crab. I have to say that this was really kind of like a place that I would want to own and/or work at. It's a tiny joint in the West Village that serves Malaysian inspired food. It was loud, dark and rowdy. The bar had four seats. The rest of the dining room had a cramped thirty-two seats. You could see into the three-man line. They were unabashed by their use of pork and deep frying. They used clay pots. The music was loud and unapologetically contained explicit lyrics. Honestly, I think that Boston needs a place like it. A family joint, it is not. And there should be a place in the restaurant scene for that. Unabashedly adult.
I ordered the crispy fried pork and pickled watermelon salad to start with. It had six or seven one-inch cubes of deep fried pork belly, six or seven one-inch cubes of watermelon, smaller bits of pickled watermelon rind, and a salad of thai basil, cilantro, and scallion on top. I say, "Ga' DAMN! that was a good salad." I followed that up with the Lo Si Fun, which were short rice noodles with chinese sausage and shiitake mushrooms in a really rich sauce. When I say rich, I mean RICH. It was so rich that I wasn't sure if I could finish it. It didn't help that they amused me, mid-coursed me and threw some dessert cake at me. I think everyone gets amused and desserted, but I got a very good mid-course of pickled roasted beets over a spicy mayo. At first, I wasn't so sure about the combination, but by the fourth bite, I was really digging it. And I don't even like beets all that much.
Anyhow, if you're in the NYC, go check out Fatty Crab. It's pretty cool. I almost think that I wasn't hip enough to be eating there. But I would try it anyways.
Well, it's late and I have to spend five hundred dollars on travel insurance tomorrow. It should be a good time. So cheers until next time.
What's my problem? Not being organized enough
You know in spy movies when a spy is on the run and he needs to make a break for the border? You know how he opens a drawer and pulls out five different passports and several different currencies? Well, I have one passport and several different currencies. Just five minutes ago, I opened up my secret spot that holds several envelopes and pouches. After sifting through the contents, I pulled out my Hong Kong and my Thai currencies for my trip. That's right. I have multiple currencies at hand. Yes, it's true that some of those said currencies no longer hold any value (Czech Krounas), and some countries' currencies hold very little value (Cambodian Riel), but I hold onto them for the hell of it.
I realize that it's not much, but some of these currencies are going to be enough to buy me snacks at airports in Hong Kong and Bangkok, two places that I will probably be going through during this trip (unless I decide to ditch the familiarity of Bangkok for the possibilities of Kuala Lumpur). So, I currently have 210HKD ($27.07 USD) and 220THB ($7.35 USD). See. Small time spy stuff. A real spy would at least have a thousand US dollars of each.
Anyhow, I have almost everything taken care of for my departure. My visa was a bit of an ordeal. See, I went down to New York City on Thursday to submit my passport to get my Chinese visa. I opted for the expedited service so that I could pick it up on Friday so I could come back to Boston on Saturday. It didn't work out so well. See, on the website, I recalled that the office was open from nine in the morning until half past noon, and then again from half past one until five in the evening. So, when they told me to pick the visa up on Friday after two in the afternoon, I thought that it would be fine if I picked it up at three. I didn't bother to look at the claim slip or the paper on the door to the consulate. It clearly stated that the hours were from nine in the morning until half past two in the afternoon. So, when I rolled up at three, the place was locked up tight. BASTARDS! It had already been a bad enough day with me locking my phone in my buddy's apartment and missing the train that would have gotten me into town right on time to meet my other friend for lunch. So, I did go back up to Boston on Saturday and trek back down on Monday to pick up my visa. Eight hours on a bus in one day. I guess it was just training for my flight to China, huh? It's not like I haven't done long haul flights before.
The good part about my trip to New York City was that I went and ate at Fatty Crab. I have to say that this was really kind of like a place that I would want to own and/or work at. It's a tiny joint in the West Village that serves Malaysian inspired food. It was loud, dark and rowdy. The bar had four seats. The rest of the dining room had a cramped thirty-two seats. You could see into the three-man line. They were unabashed by their use of pork and deep frying. They used clay pots. The music was loud and unapologetically contained explicit lyrics. Honestly, I think that Boston needs a place like it. A family joint, it is not. And there should be a place in the restaurant scene for that. Unabashedly adult.
I ordered the crispy fried pork and pickled watermelon salad to start with. It had six or seven one-inch cubes of deep fried pork belly, six or seven one-inch cubes of watermelon, smaller bits of pickled watermelon rind, and a salad of thai basil, cilantro, and scallion on top. I say, "Ga' DAMN! that was a good salad." I followed that up with the Lo Si Fun, which were short rice noodles with chinese sausage and shiitake mushrooms in a really rich sauce. When I say rich, I mean RICH. It was so rich that I wasn't sure if I could finish it. It didn't help that they amused me, mid-coursed me and threw some dessert cake at me. I think everyone gets amused and desserted, but I got a very good mid-course of pickled roasted beets over a spicy mayo. At first, I wasn't so sure about the combination, but by the fourth bite, I was really digging it. And I don't even like beets all that much.
Anyhow, if you're in the NYC, go check out Fatty Crab. It's pretty cool. I almost think that I wasn't hip enough to be eating there. But I would try it anyways.
Well, it's late and I have to spend five hundred dollars on travel insurance tomorrow. It should be a good time. So cheers until next time.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Day 134: Last Sprint
Listening: They say time will make all this go away, but it's time that has taken my tomorrows and turned them into yesterdays. And once again that rising sun is droppin' on down and once again, you, my friend, are nowhere to be found.
What's my problem? Having no idea what it will be like in China.
I have a mere six more days before I make my exodus from this island and another fourteen before I skip the country. I can feel the tension in my shoulders slowly releasing and I feel like I can breathe a little easier.
I've been counting down the days until my exodus from the island for a long time, for almost half the season. I knew pretty quickly that it didn't feel right, but I am a man of my word and a man of commitment. So, I stayed. As I talk about leaving with glee, one of my friends seems disappointed in me. She loves the island. And, though she doesn't want to stay for the isolated, cold winters, she believes the simpler life is for her.
We had a brief conversation last night as we walked to a bar. I said that of the few things that I will miss about the island, one of them is the incredible view of the stars. She said that Nantucket was a beautiful place. And, to that, I said that a place can be beautiful and not for you at the same time. That's what this place is. It's beautiful and not for me at the same time. It's a place I would come to for a weekend to hang out at a beach and have a nice dinner, but I would never live here again unless something drastically changed in me. Nantucket, much like Lyon, France, was a beautiful place, but it just didn't sit well with me. It wasn't a place I wanted to spend much more than one single night.
The schedule of my life over the next couple of weeks is pretty rapid fire. This weekend is Hogtoberfest at American Seasons, which should be even more amazing than last year. Whole roasted pig's heads on the tables and charcuterie up the whazoo. Tuesday, one of my best friends will be picking me up from the ferry. Hopefully, I'll get to see his new digs and maybe his new pup. Wednesday is another one of my friends' birthday. Hopefully I'll get to buy her a drink or a plate of pig tails. Thursday, I'll be heading to NYC to apply for and hopefully receive my expedited visa to get into China. I'll be down there for a couple of days, hopefully having dinner with some friends and just relaxing. I think I'll be catching a ride back to Boston with a friend of mine, so I can go to the 10-course Dante's Inferno dinner on Sunday with a few friends. Between then and November first, I'll be preparing for my trip to China.
I don't have a whole lot left to do for the trip. I have to book my first few nights of hotel in Shanghai so I can adjust to the time zone without the potentially crazy backpackers. I also have to buy my travel insurance. As far as gear goes, I think I only need to buy a new headlamp and maybe a few new pairs of socks.
The tough part for me will be the actual packing. I'll have to pack for my trip around China in late fall where it might get chilly and maybe a couple of weeks in southeast Asia where it might get steamy (the way I like it) all in my backpack. Then, I will need a separate suitcase for my time in San Francisco and Vancouver for the holidays, where it will be downright cold and I will also need some dressy options. I'll be leaving the nicer stuff in my suitcase in San Francisco while I'm in China, but it really will be hell trying to decide what's going where with me. As always, everything that I take with me abroad needs to be relatively quick-drying, and it can't be anything I would cry about losing or ruining while I'm on the trail.
The new addition to the pack this time around will be a netbook. I was thinking about buying a netbook to bring with me just in case the great firewall of China blocks me out of my blog and my photo storage site. The thing is that when I get back home, I'll never use the netbook again, because I'm a Mac guy. When it came to light that my brother was looking to purchase a netbook, the plan came together. He would buy the netbook, I would pay for some of it and I would use it until I got home and hand it off to him. It's a great arrangement. If something happens to the netbook on the trail, I just owe him the money for it. I'll be able to keep a great record of my trip and it'll be small and light enough for me to carry around.
So for right now I'm looking at travel insurance, Shanghai hotels, and maybe a few cooking classes in China. There's a culinary tour in Xi'an for $60 (roughly) which takes you around the Muslim quarter and introduces you to the Chinese Muslim (Hui) cuisine. There are also a few different classes that I have found in Shanghai as well. I really want to take a more intense course, though. The questions are is these types of classes are offered, how much they cost, and if I can afford the time.
Something else I'm really excited about is that if I end up going back to Thailand where it will be warm, I'm planning on going to Wat Bang Phra, a Buddhist temple where they do old school Buddhist tattoos of protection. I feel that these days more than in the past, I could use a bit more protection. It would be a really cool experience to get the tattoo in the traditional bamboo needle. I'll probably get one either on the back of one of my shoulders like the one that Angelina Jolie has. I think that the other place I would consider getting it would be on my calf or my left forearm. It'll have to be one of the last things that I do in Thailand though, if I want to hang out at the beach. See, you can't really go in the ocean if you have a fresh tat. If I'm in Thailand I will most definitely be taking a dip in the crystal blue water and hanging out on the soft white sand.
It's funny. Last time I talked to my mother, she said that she thinks that I should plan a family vacation for the four of us. When I think about doing it, I know that there's no way it would ever happen. Between the facts that my father likes his concierge, and I like hostels with bars with cheap beer and people doing things on a shoestring, I don't think the accommodations would ever line up. My parents like things to be relatively planned out, to be like cattle led from one grazing area to another, whereas I like being able to dip at the drop of a dime. I left Hue, Vietnam a whole lot earlier than I thought I would. The same thing with Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I also like that I stayed longer in Hoi An, Vietnam and Cinque Terre, Italy. When you're with three other people, you don't get that freedom. And I don't think that my parents would buy the whole, "I'm going ahead... I'll meet you in the third city on the trail in a week...." thing. Four people means that four people have to have their bladders synchronized, their food desires coinciding, and their interests catered to. It's almost impossible to do that with one other person, to spend an entire backpacking trip with another person for more than a week and not take time off. Forget the fact that they'd have to carry their luggage on their back and wash their clothes in sinks. So, yeah, I don't see it happening.
Anyhow, I have to go. It's my last night off on the island and it's also prime rib night at Kitty Murtaugh's. I love me some prime rib.
What's my problem? Having no idea what it will be like in China.
I have a mere six more days before I make my exodus from this island and another fourteen before I skip the country. I can feel the tension in my shoulders slowly releasing and I feel like I can breathe a little easier.
I've been counting down the days until my exodus from the island for a long time, for almost half the season. I knew pretty quickly that it didn't feel right, but I am a man of my word and a man of commitment. So, I stayed. As I talk about leaving with glee, one of my friends seems disappointed in me. She loves the island. And, though she doesn't want to stay for the isolated, cold winters, she believes the simpler life is for her.
We had a brief conversation last night as we walked to a bar. I said that of the few things that I will miss about the island, one of them is the incredible view of the stars. She said that Nantucket was a beautiful place. And, to that, I said that a place can be beautiful and not for you at the same time. That's what this place is. It's beautiful and not for me at the same time. It's a place I would come to for a weekend to hang out at a beach and have a nice dinner, but I would never live here again unless something drastically changed in me. Nantucket, much like Lyon, France, was a beautiful place, but it just didn't sit well with me. It wasn't a place I wanted to spend much more than one single night.
The schedule of my life over the next couple of weeks is pretty rapid fire. This weekend is Hogtoberfest at American Seasons, which should be even more amazing than last year. Whole roasted pig's heads on the tables and charcuterie up the whazoo. Tuesday, one of my best friends will be picking me up from the ferry. Hopefully, I'll get to see his new digs and maybe his new pup. Wednesday is another one of my friends' birthday. Hopefully I'll get to buy her a drink or a plate of pig tails. Thursday, I'll be heading to NYC to apply for and hopefully receive my expedited visa to get into China. I'll be down there for a couple of days, hopefully having dinner with some friends and just relaxing. I think I'll be catching a ride back to Boston with a friend of mine, so I can go to the 10-course Dante's Inferno dinner on Sunday with a few friends. Between then and November first, I'll be preparing for my trip to China.
I don't have a whole lot left to do for the trip. I have to book my first few nights of hotel in Shanghai so I can adjust to the time zone without the potentially crazy backpackers. I also have to buy my travel insurance. As far as gear goes, I think I only need to buy a new headlamp and maybe a few new pairs of socks.
The tough part for me will be the actual packing. I'll have to pack for my trip around China in late fall where it might get chilly and maybe a couple of weeks in southeast Asia where it might get steamy (the way I like it) all in my backpack. Then, I will need a separate suitcase for my time in San Francisco and Vancouver for the holidays, where it will be downright cold and I will also need some dressy options. I'll be leaving the nicer stuff in my suitcase in San Francisco while I'm in China, but it really will be hell trying to decide what's going where with me. As always, everything that I take with me abroad needs to be relatively quick-drying, and it can't be anything I would cry about losing or ruining while I'm on the trail.
The new addition to the pack this time around will be a netbook. I was thinking about buying a netbook to bring with me just in case the great firewall of China blocks me out of my blog and my photo storage site. The thing is that when I get back home, I'll never use the netbook again, because I'm a Mac guy. When it came to light that my brother was looking to purchase a netbook, the plan came together. He would buy the netbook, I would pay for some of it and I would use it until I got home and hand it off to him. It's a great arrangement. If something happens to the netbook on the trail, I just owe him the money for it. I'll be able to keep a great record of my trip and it'll be small and light enough for me to carry around.
So for right now I'm looking at travel insurance, Shanghai hotels, and maybe a few cooking classes in China. There's a culinary tour in Xi'an for $60 (roughly) which takes you around the Muslim quarter and introduces you to the Chinese Muslim (Hui) cuisine. There are also a few different classes that I have found in Shanghai as well. I really want to take a more intense course, though. The questions are is these types of classes are offered, how much they cost, and if I can afford the time.
Something else I'm really excited about is that if I end up going back to Thailand where it will be warm, I'm planning on going to Wat Bang Phra, a Buddhist temple where they do old school Buddhist tattoos of protection. I feel that these days more than in the past, I could use a bit more protection. It would be a really cool experience to get the tattoo in the traditional bamboo needle. I'll probably get one either on the back of one of my shoulders like the one that Angelina Jolie has. I think that the other place I would consider getting it would be on my calf or my left forearm. It'll have to be one of the last things that I do in Thailand though, if I want to hang out at the beach. See, you can't really go in the ocean if you have a fresh tat. If I'm in Thailand I will most definitely be taking a dip in the crystal blue water and hanging out on the soft white sand.
It's funny. Last time I talked to my mother, she said that she thinks that I should plan a family vacation for the four of us. When I think about doing it, I know that there's no way it would ever happen. Between the facts that my father likes his concierge, and I like hostels with bars with cheap beer and people doing things on a shoestring, I don't think the accommodations would ever line up. My parents like things to be relatively planned out, to be like cattle led from one grazing area to another, whereas I like being able to dip at the drop of a dime. I left Hue, Vietnam a whole lot earlier than I thought I would. The same thing with Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I also like that I stayed longer in Hoi An, Vietnam and Cinque Terre, Italy. When you're with three other people, you don't get that freedom. And I don't think that my parents would buy the whole, "I'm going ahead... I'll meet you in the third city on the trail in a week...." thing. Four people means that four people have to have their bladders synchronized, their food desires coinciding, and their interests catered to. It's almost impossible to do that with one other person, to spend an entire backpacking trip with another person for more than a week and not take time off. Forget the fact that they'd have to carry their luggage on their back and wash their clothes in sinks. So, yeah, I don't see it happening.
Anyhow, I have to go. It's my last night off on the island and it's also prime rib night at Kitty Murtaugh's. I love me some prime rib.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Day 83: Estimates
Listening: It's like the more money we come across, the more problems we see.
What's my problem? Taking stock of potential expenses...
Flight Boston-San Fran/Jose RT: Delta Dollars=FREE!
Flight San Fran-Shanghai, Hong Kong-San Fran: $900
Flight Hong Kong-Bangkok RT: $200
Hostel/Hotel for 49 nights: (Avg $30/night) $1470
Food for 49 days: (Avg $25/day) $1225
General train/bus travel in-country: $750
Flight San Fran/Jose-Seattle: $250
Bus Seattle-Vancouver, B.C. RT: $55
--------------
Minimum Total: $4850
*OUCH*
What's my problem? Taking stock of potential expenses...
Flight Boston-San Fran/Jose RT: Delta Dollars=FREE!
Flight San Fran-Shanghai, Hong Kong-San Fran: $900
Flight Hong Kong-Bangkok RT: $200
Hostel/Hotel for 49 nights: (Avg $30/night) $1470
Food for 49 days: (Avg $25/day) $1225
General train/bus travel in-country: $750
Flight San Fran/Jose-Seattle: $250
Bus Seattle-Vancouver, B.C. RT: $55
--------------
Minimum Total: $4850
*OUCH*
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