tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84062734866486796462024-03-08T08:12:12.348-08:00Mongolian Travels<p><big><b>This is just a little space for me to let friends know what I am up to-- easier than emailing everybody all the time from the internet cafe! This site does not allow "oldest entries first" formatting, so I had to give fake dates to the entries so that it can be read chrnonologically, but that makes the archives in reverse order--when the archive says "June," it is really "May," and vice-verse. Go figure. You can click the pics to get full-size images.</b></big></p>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-54280474449133904332008-06-26T09:18:00.000-07:002008-07-12T08:05:58.063-07:00Well, I am off<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)font-size:130%;" >May 22, 2008</span><br /></div><br />Here I go. More or less packed, I think. . . more or less I know where I am going (I think), and more or less I am dubious about the whole thing arranged through Intourist. We'll see. And more later. Lincoln has kindly offered to take me to Logan, and he is waiting downstairs for me so that we can take off.<br /><br />Next stop, Paris.<br /><br />Well, this is continued from Moscow. . . not much time to figure this Blog out, as I created it while Linc was sitting downstairs, but we'll try it now.<br /><br />The ride out to Logan was nice-- great to have Lincoln to babble with about travels and stuff. . . a little traffic jam, but w/ the magic of tech we called Mike on the cell phone, he googled around for traffic reports, found out about the overturned camper and let us know that we would be free in a few minutes. . . all true. What a world!<br /><br />In any case, all was fine.Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-59161617799993796622008-06-25T01:49:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:05.178-08:00Day Two (May 23?)<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">May 23 (???)</span><br /></div><br /><p><br />Well, all has gone smoothly so far. That is, all the flights and blah blah were just fine, tho tiring. It was nice to be called "Monsieur" by the French airlines folks, and I even tried a bit of my highschool French in return.<br /><br />So far St. Petersburg is . . . well, dreary, poor, faded. . . kind of reminds me of India in some ways: lots of folks trying to <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjI5DAS43I/AAAAAAAAAF8/BFg1g8JzO0M/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222144650320733042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="172" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjI5DAS43I/AAAAAAAAAF8/BFg1g8JzO0M/s320/-StPetersburg+005.JPG" width="239" border="0" /></a>be hip with ten-year-old styles, a little bit gangster, and lots and lots of peasants everywhere. There is also a similarity of beauracracy, even with computers things seem to involve a lot of time, lines, and paper. But I am just getting used to things, so I will see more of the history after I finally crash and sleep. I think that I am 8 hours ahead of Hamp.<br /><br />In any case, it has been a long trip. . . strangely, the flight being only 6 hours to Paris meant that I arrived in Paris at 6 am, so I didn't really have a chance to sleep, and then it was the flight to Russia for only 3 hours and so I still haven't been able to sleep. Somehow I am used to 13 hour flights that I can get some sleep on. Soon, soon. . . </p><br /><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjLyT19IeI/AAAAAAAAAGs/ZCN8CoBOekw/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+010.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222147833116565986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="175" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjLyT19IeI/AAAAAAAAAGs/ZCN8CoBOekw/s200/-StPetersburg+010.JPG" width="228" border="0" /></a>My hotel is not too bad for $150/night-- very conveniently located near a subway stop, a few local shops to buy bread, meats, cheese, vodka, beer. . . and my room overlooks the Neva River, which is nice.<br /><br />OK, enough for the moment. I am here and safe and so far all the travel arrangements have been working just fine, so hopefully the other plane and train tickets will also be OK. </p>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-35088212886548154532008-06-24T01:51:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:06.896-08:00Day Three<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">May 27, 2008</span></span><br /></div><br /><div>Well. Day Three. . . . about 12 hours of walking (so far, the night is young).<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjJtZBVCNI/AAAAAAAAAGM/GDP8-plRsJY/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222145549583845586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="143" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjJtZBVCNI/AAAAAAAAAGM/GDP8-plRsJY/s320/-StPetersburg+020.JPG" width="229" border="0" /></a>After my buffet breakfast-- a massive room filled with Austrian waltz music and an interesting buffet of somewhat familiar foods-- I took off for the Hermitage and several massive churches. . . only to discover that today is the St. Petersburg Birthday Bash! 305 years old (I believe Northampton celebrated 350 years about five years ago). In any case, the streets were absolutely packed with people-- kids, couples, families, police everywhere, gothic vampires (complete with casket-shaped backpacks), long, long-legged women with way-tight jeans and other gold-and-silver fashion statements, boys that all looked *really* Russian (somehow it is that Illya look. . . I tried to get some pics, but there are about <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjJtGPLGuI/AAAAAAAAAGE/bvU7azrAk10/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+013.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222145544541641442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="167" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjJtGPLGuI/AAAAAAAAAGE/bvU7azrAk10/s320/-StPetersburg+013.JPG" width="239" border="0" /></a>three really typical faces. . . or, in my spy mind, perhaps they are really all the same guy following me because I am so important), and in general a great big party. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjxX6qlN5I/AAAAAAAAAG8/r6DRfO2goD8/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+070.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222189161123231634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjxX6qlN5I/AAAAAAAAAG8/r6DRfO2goD8/s200/-StPetersburg+070.JPG" border="0" /></a>I sat at a Japanese street-side cafe and drank beer and whiskey for a bit to get out of the crowds of people, and watched a really long (about 3 hours) parade . . . really tacky, it reminded me somehow of the floats that they made in "Animal House"--think the float that <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjKYu_s4VI/AAAAAAAAAGU/KhNOGfqujr8/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+021.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222146294216974674" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="158" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjKYu_s4VI/AAAAAAAAAGU/KhNOGfqujr8/s320/-StPetersburg+021.JPG" width="211" border="0" /></a>became a tank and you get the idea), and the whole thing was surprisingly pretty lame. . . but the people-watching made it <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjKuuhq4aI/AAAAAAAAAGc/DF-Bf0X1CMo/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+027.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222146672048136610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjKuuhq4aI/AAAAAAAAAGc/DF-Bf0X1CMo/s200/-StPetersburg+027.JPG" border="0" /></a>all worthwhile. Such a throng of folks would be hard to imagine-- I will try to upload some pics when I get a better <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjK-uyPNzI/AAAAAAAAAGk/BZwlqW2jJMk/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+029.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222146946995533618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjK-uyPNzI/AAAAAAAAAGk/BZwlqW2jJMk/s200/-StPetersburg+029.JPG" border="0" /></a>computer situation. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjxGPq8CTI/AAAAAAAAAG0/ZN693fisHIg/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+050.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222188857524226354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjxGPq8CTI/AAAAAAAAAG0/ZN693fisHIg/s200/-StPetersburg+050.JPG" border="0" /></a>And oh my gawd! the size of everything! It is incredible-- every building is about three times the size of Seelye, and many, many are about ten times that size. The Hermitage, the world-famous museum (<a href="http://www.hermitagemuseum.org/html_En/index.html">http://www.hermitagemuseum.org/html_En/index.html</a>) is absolutely huge. . . and it used to be the palace of the tsar. Wow! Trying to walk from one room to the other would have been a late-night challenge! And most everything around it is equally huge. Unfortunately, never got inside as I couldn't make my way down <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjx23KqI9I/AAAAAAAAAHE/sRKfWxk4JYU/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+126.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222189692759974866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjx23KqI9I/AAAAAAAAAHE/sRKfWxk4JYU/s200/-StPetersburg+126.JPG" border="0" /></a>the sidewalk within about a half-mile of the place <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjy2NiyXVI/AAAAAAAAAHU/dBu4arPIWpc/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+176.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222190781098515794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjy2NiyXVI/AAAAAAAAAHU/dBu4arPIWpc/s200/-StPetersburg+176.JPG" border="0" /></a>because of the crowds for the parade. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjyJI6XzXI/AAAAAAAAAHM/fH6XHOJVpE4/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+160.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222190006761147762" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjyJI6XzXI/AAAAAAAAAHM/fH6XHOJVpE4/s200/-StPetersburg+160.JPG" border="0" /></a>Finally I just found a nearby park and drank beer with bad teenagers. There is quite a scene of dis-affected <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjzGo2fMfI/AAAAAAAAAHk/h7oZBIuf5fA/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+185.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222191063306809842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHjzGo2fMfI/AAAAAAAAAHk/h7oZBIuf5fA/s200/-StPetersburg+185.JPG" border="0" /></a>(and affected) yewts here, all costumed up in various ways (including anime) and drinking and scowling and otherwise being bad. Ahhhh, it always makes me feel good to know that the kids are still pissed off and hanging out together.<br /><br />And yes, even in Russia (especially in Russia???) you can drink in the streets, no problem. I don't quite know how to choose beer yet, but so far pointing works.<br /><br />I am slowly getting used to Cyrillic. . . not so hard, though the "faux amis" are confusing (the "B" that is a "V", the "H" that is an "N" and the like), and the difference between script and print, but I am slowly getting there. . . (ÂÁÒ, for example). . . and then, of course, even if I get the spelling, it still is Russian. . . duh! Not much English around compared to other parts of the traveler's world.<br /><br />So, I am slowly getting used to be all by myself, on the road again. Rather lonely, lots of walking and looking and trying to figure things out. Tomorrow I will go find the Buddhist temple, which turns out to have been founded by Geshe Wangyal's main teacher. . . Geshe Wangyal was the slightly wild and amazing teacher down in New Jersey that hooked Thurman, Kirtz, and many other friends of ours. I even saw a picture of Thurman online at the temple website, helping to dedicate a plaque or something: <a href="http://www.marhotin.ru/marhotin-datsan-eng/">http://www.marhotin.ru/marhotin-datsan-eng/</a><br /><br />Hopefully I will make it there tomorrow, as well as actually get inside of the Hermitage. . . tho I would rather go drinking with Russians than look at old paintings. . .<br /><br />Meanwhile, I cannot get in touch with the Intourist folks who are suppossed to deliver my train ticket for Mongolia, and that worries me a bit. We'll see on Monday when I get to Moscow.<br /><br />OK, I will check out for the moment.<br /><br />Miss everybody much-- wish that Maki was here to wander with me. . . I bought a sailer hat for the birthday of St. Petersburg-- the theme was "Water, Water, Water." I just figured out why by finally looking at a map-- St. Petersburg is just about next to Finland and Sweden and on its way to the Atlantic Ocean!<br /><br />I forgot-- it is now nearly 11:00 pm, and it is still light outside. The sun goes down around 10:00-- really, sunset is at 10:15-- and the light lingers for at least another hour or two. I haven't been up late enough to see it get dark! But the sun is up around 5:00 am! It must be that "land of the midnight sun" effect north of the arctic circle. . . "white nights" they call it here. I believe St. Petersburg is just outside the arctic circle-- which migh explain why it is so damn cold! When the bright sun is shining all day long you can get sunburned, but turn a corner into the shade of some massive building and get a breeze off one of the rivers/canals and you need flannel shirts and winter jackets!<br /><br />Brrrr. . . they say all night sunshine makes you crazy. </div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-28939137708564843212008-06-23T02:03:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:08.725-08:00Day Four: Buddhism in St. PetersburgThis morning I went to the Buiyat Mongolian/Tibetan Buddhist temple. . . my first experience with the subway and all was fine until I got off the subway. . . <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuH5zUUzhI/AAAAAAAAAH0/aubAH6QLvbw/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+207.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222917619963973138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuH5zUUzhI/AAAAAAAAAH0/aubAH6QLvbw/s200/-StPetersburg+207.JPG" border="0" /></a>unlike Japan, all subway lines are very simple (but they are about two miles underground, more on this when I get to upload pics), and all trains have only one platform with one direction on one side and the other direction on the other side, and the doors always open on the same side; connecting stations are pretty easy to figure out, and they use tokens-- one token for wherever you are going, including transfers. So this makes it a bit easier than the Japanese versions. Of course, my Cryllic needs to get better (it reminds me of the feelings of success at my first attempts to negotiate Japanese subways and doing sort of symbol-recognition on the first character of the destination name and just keeping that in my mind 'cause I couldn't read or pronounce the whole name). And the recorded announcements are somewhat understandable, too.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuIYJSDo4I/AAAAAAAAAH8/y1e8FhEu4Fs/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+220.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222918141256115074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuIYJSDo4I/AAAAAAAAAH8/y1e8FhEu4Fs/s200/-StPetersburg+220.JPG" border="0" /></a>However. Once I got off the train I was completely lost. And I must say the Russians are pretty much minimally helpful to downright surly-- given my male tendancy not to ask questions and their natural brusqueness, it took quite a while to find my way the mere three blocks to the temple (<a href="http://www.marhotin.ru/marhotin-datsan-eng/">http://www.marhotin.ru/marhotin-datsan-eng/</a>). But finally I got it and all was OK. I thought the temple was closed (everything here seems closed to me) until I found a back door and got in, while a service was in session. Very different from the States, very liturgical/ritual w/ lots of chanting and bowing and money-offering. Just like the real thing! And, because this temple was shut down during the Soviet era and just restored about ten years ago, it is a good place to begin this journey since the major part of the tale is the revival of Mongolian Buddhism after the long Soviet suppression. The suppression of Buddhism around the world. . . maybe a new theme?<br /><br />The temple was founded by Agvan Dorjiev (<a class="weblink" href="http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agvan_Dorjiev" target="browserView">http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agvan_Dorjiev</a>), one of those amazing fellows of a <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuIi0rwhBI/AAAAAAAAAIE/-_kn0aD4R9Q/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+234.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222918324705330194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuIi0rwhBI/AAAAAAAAAIE/-_kn0aD4R9Q/s200/-StPetersburg+234.JPG" border="0" /></a>bygone era. . . part high-level political player, many parts local boy, more parts normal Buddhist wonderful person. . . and all mixed in with the "Great Game" being played at the time between Russia and Britain and others (<a class="weblink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Great_Game" target="browserView">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Great_Game</a>).<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuLCxkD_XI/AAAAAAAAAIk/EAWmmZ8b_1E/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+219-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222921072646815090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuLCxkD_XI/AAAAAAAAAIk/EAWmmZ8b_1E/s200/-StPetersburg+219-1.JPG" border="0" /></a>Wonderful stories. . . and of course, all connected to the Valley in end. . . Agvan Dorjiev was Geshe Wangyal's teacher, who as I <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuK2pKNN_I/AAAAAAAAAIc/9_BcSzYXZdU/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+219-1.JPG"></a>mentioned earlier was Thurman, Kirtz, and other's teachers, all reaching back through Rick Taupier at UMass to me here in St. Petersburg. . . neat!<br /><br />I am now in the IBM Internet cafe in the Hermitage . . .I think the computer is about to go down.<br /><br />OK, that is where the computer fucked up and shut me down. Fortunately, six hours later in my hotel, a draft message was saved so I can continue.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuJhkHR9mI/AAAAAAAAAIU/6uSmY6RCQAY/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+251.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222919402589124194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuJhkHR9mI/AAAAAAAAAIU/6uSmY6RCQAY/s200/-StPetersburg+251.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuJWpixqwI/AAAAAAAAAIM/9ypszjk4YTI/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+238.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222919215068064514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuJWpixqwI/AAAAAAAAAIM/9ypszjk4YTI/s200/-StPetersburg+238.JPG" border="0" /></a>Ah, the Hermitage. Winter Palace of the Tzar m-f'er! What a place to call home! I was blown away from the outside at the size and ornate decorative style of the place, and the inside doesn't dissapoint. Rather than my pics, try <a class="weblink" href="http://www.hermitagemuseum.org/html_En/index.html" target="browserView">http://www.hermitagemuseum.org/html_En/index.html</a> and you can see it. What a place! Still, museums bore me. . . kings and wars and dead people and Flemish paintings of voluptuous women (painting tits and ass was their porn??? --and now our classic art???) and weapons and blah blah just don't work for me.<br /><br />I'd rather have a beer on the street with some kids. . . and so I did. After the <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuLapeVWFI/AAAAAAAAAIs/Zv-4ERxpfvk/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+255.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222921482792163410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuLapeVWFI/AAAAAAAAAIs/Zv-4ERxpfvk/s200/-StPetersburg+255.JPG" border="0" /></a>stupid Hermitage computer cafe blew up and screwed me I left and got a beer and wandered. . . even the moms with baby carriages are drinking pints of can beer as they walk. . . in the shadows of some major monument some kid had a guitar and a buddy who had a hat and was looking for a <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuLtq9a2xI/AAAAAAAAAI0/OM7u29AKQIs/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+263.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222921809608497938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuLtq9a2xI/AAAAAAAAAI0/OM7u29AKQIs/s200/-StPetersburg+263.JPG" border="0" /></a>donation. . . when I laughed in English, he laughed back, "GIVE ME MONEY!!" And so I did. . . after a few minutes of bad folk music, I wandered around and came out the other side where his duplicate was performing. . . with a chick demanding "GIVE ME MONEY" . . . in a fetching manner. And so I did. All the while drinking with them. . . they sang to me, "MY BEER MY LIFE". . . "MY BEER MY RUSSIAN WIFE" .<br /><br />And other folks on the street needing money. . . not so many beggars or <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuR1Y15r2I/AAAAAAAAAKM/M613TGFQzcw/s1600-h/Moscow+021.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222928539253845858" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuR1Y15r2I/AAAAAAAAAKM/M613TGFQzcw/s200/Moscow+021.JPG" border="0" /></a>homeless (it is too COLD here to live much on the streets), but enough to give money to. I decided that rather than buy the next junk item I don't need or have room for (AHHH-- but I *do want* the replica Fabergé egg. . .I have *always* wanted the Fabergé egg), forget it! Or how about the modern versions of the Russian dolls-- your choice, Osama Bin Laden to George Bush to Harry Potter!! I don't have room in my suitcase (buy something, gotta <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuMIUiTgeI/AAAAAAAAAI8/w3efF2JyLd8/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+116.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222922267445658082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuMIUiTgeI/AAAAAAAAAI8/w3efF2JyLd8/s200/-StPetersburg+116.JPG" border="0" /></a>throw something away) or my house. . . so, half of what I would spend on crap like that I will give away and half I will save! Win-Win! So the guy with the weird triple-jointed fake leg hanging outside my cafe gets more cash. . . so do street musicians. . . so do various other beggars and urchins.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuMdDtzQDI/AAAAAAAAAJE/VAjMZkMfknM/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+118.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222922623707725874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuMdDtzQDI/AAAAAAAAAJE/VAjMZkMfknM/s200/-StPetersburg+118.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />One cute thing is the couples necking and making out all over the streets. Maybe it is spring, or maybe it is Russia and love is more about the PDA, but everybody--old and young-- seems to be kissin' and gropin'. One of my favorites (and I tried to get a pic but it eluded me) <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuHkmzowWI/AAAAAAAAAHs/gxqgVqhgr4A/s1600-h/-StPetersburg+123.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222917255828390242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuHkmzowWI/AAAAAAAAAHs/gxqgVqhgr4A/s200/-StPetersburg+123.JPG" border="0" /></a>is the couples on the really, really long escalators down into the subway. . . the boy or the girl turns around and faces their lover and they kiss and paw and love each other, one backwards and the other pressing down, and down and down . . . a *long* escalator and they are faced off like some sort of porceline figurines. . . very sweet!<br /><br />OK, my bad failure moment. . . such an experienced traveler I screwed up. . . tomorrow is my find-out moment: coming through Paris, I bought two liters of Jim Beam, figuring the seven-day train ride will require at least that, or perhaps, should one bottle survive, it will be a great gift for some Mongolian yurt-warlord when I get to the steppes. . . OK, well. . . I just realized that you only get 3 ounces of liquids these days in your carry-on bag! In a sealed plastic bag!! SHIT! Well.<br /><br />Maybe it will be OK. When I came through customs here in St. Petersburg. . . well, there were no customs. Total backwater airport, nothing! Just a sign: "If you have nothing go straight." Well, I couldn't resist going straight. It seems that the cops here are just as lazy and don't care about anything as the rest of the service industry . . .don't know what it was like back when, but today they all seem to be just kicking back. So, bottom line: I am just going to try and walk right on the airplane with two liters of Beam! Wish me luck! I would *really* hate to give 'em up. . . might be forced to chug both bottles right there.<br /><br />So, trying to preseve my Beam for the train ride (which I still haven't gotten my ticket for, and the phone number of the person who will give me my ticket seems out of order) I have been learning vodka. . .much to everybody's delight, of course. Kari would be proud of me--or is it Katy that is the vodka drinker??<br /><br />So far Russian food sucks. . . but then perhaps I don't know what it really is. . . maybe when I get on the train I will know!<br /><br />Meanwhile Maki has left Hamp for Japan. . . perhaps the first time that we have both been out of the country in different countries at the same time.<br /><br />I might be out of touch for a while when I am on the train. . . if I actually get my ticket and get on the train! DAMNIT I want my ticket!!Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-74700507474589330912008-06-20T02:15:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:09.691-08:00Day Five: Moscow and out!Moscow at last . . . and last Russian city or hotel, and I am not terribly upset. . . happy to be on my way to Asia! From somebody else's Mongolia blog: "After a trip through China or Russia, the kindness and the open-minded spirit of the Mongolian people will astonish you."<br /><br />My new hotel (the Hotel Turist) is a real dump, kind of like a cross between a youth hostel and dormitory built in eight massive "blocks." Everybody is typically unfriendly and unhelpful, and the free breakfast was a jar of instant coffee, hot water, a slice of bread and a wrapped slice of welfare cheese (American cheese) in a strange little room. The lift didn't work, and there is no hot water from the beginning of May until June 1!! I have to get on the train to get a hot shower!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuO7N7ey3I/AAAAAAAAAJM/mjrub60Uz24/s1600-h/Moscow+006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222925340868791154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuO7N7ey3I/AAAAAAAAAJM/mjrub60Uz24/s200/Moscow+006.JPG" border="0" /></a>I must say, though, that so far Moscow is quite pleasant-- very green, lots of trees everywhere, and my hotel is in the middle of a park-like place. Everybody strolling around, drinking cans and bottles of beer all the time, sitting on benches in groups of old people and young people just blabbing . . . and drinking. The air too, as in St. Petersburg, is quite clean and refreshing-- very different from most of the other cities of this size I have been in around the world.<br /><br />And!! Happy Happy, I finally got my Trans Siberian train <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuPHUcKs_I/AAAAAAAAAJU/S_Q9ycR8ND0/s1600-h/Moscow+017.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222925548774929394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuPHUcKs_I/AAAAAAAAAJU/S_Q9ycR8ND0/s200/Moscow+017.JPG" border="0" /></a>ticket yesterday!! After all the crap Intourist put me through I was nervous. . . I kept calling the phone number they gave me from the time I arrived, and either there was no answer or somebody spoke in Russian and when I answered in English they hung up! Yesterday I finally got through to a pleasant women, and she said that the ticket had been delivered to the Hotel Cosmos, one quick subway stop away from my depressing dump hotel.<br /><br />So, intrepid Metro rider that I have become, I jumped on the train and went to this huge casino-hotel, had a beer, and picked up my ticket! So that made me <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuSpjYfl1I/AAAAAAAAAKU/U-VvJR8RaPM/s1600-h/Moscow+031.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222929435436488530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuSpjYfl1I/AAAAAAAAAKU/U-VvJR8RaPM/s200/Moscow+031.JPG" border="0" /></a>happy. . . AND, I had absolutely no problem brining my Jim Beam on the flight here in the morning. Although I almost missed the plane because I wasn't sure which airport (Pulkovo 1 -- mostly domestic but some international flights, or Pulkovo 2, mostly international but some domestic flights, and my e-ticket simply said "Pulkovo" and the Siberian Airlines website was no more informative and nobody would make a phone call for me), and of course at the airport (I went extra early to the domestic one in case I had to switch, but I lucked out) there were no signs in English, the flight number was not the same as on my ticket, and nobody would do anything other than say "Nyet" if I asked a question or showed them my ticket.<br /><br />I barely got in the right line, slipped through the security check, and when asked to show the contents of my plastic "duty free" bag I opened it up, the guy smiled and gave me the thumbs up, and waved me to my flight! Whereas in the States they confiscated my shampoo.<br /><br />So. Hell one moment, Heaven the next.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuPWhTmcRI/AAAAAAAAAJc/8VT4PtchBIo/s1600-h/Moscow+015.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222925809926697234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuPWhTmcRI/AAAAAAAAAJc/8VT4PtchBIo/s200/Moscow+015.JPG" border="0" /></a>Still, I am happy to be getting out of this place. Russia and the sullen/surly/rude thing does get boring and depressing pretty quickly. I am spoiled from places like Japan and Thailand. Surly and unhappy, except for the kids and young folks, who seem to have much more fun. Maybe everybody over 30 is scarred from the past or something. I have some great pics of kids doing gymnastic flips off the wall in front of the Cosmo Hotel, and kids are "snogging" (smooching) everywhere, including on the wall overlooking Lenin's tomb! And, of course, drinking beer in the streets.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuP5E8820I/AAAAAAAAAJs/quYycqxGfrg/s1600-h/Moscow+053.JPG"></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuQKEOBa3I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ng4yiV2fy58/s1600-h/Moscow+053.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222926695471868786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuQKEOBa3I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ng4yiV2fy58/s200/Moscow+053.JPG" border="0" /></a>The Kremlin is amazing, truly hard to describe. What I thought were huge buildings in St. Petes are nothing compared to the Kremlin. . . . it goes on and on, surrounded by onion-topped churches (or something) and one of the largest, hugest, longest buildings I have ever seen, all ornate <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuRRqSUTRI/AAAAAAAAAKE/yKpWREixbfM/s1600-h/Moscow+060.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222927925461142802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuRRqSUTRI/AAAAAAAAAKE/yKpWREixbfM/s200/Moscow+060.JPG" border="0" /></a>and carved and marble and <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuPq83wyVI/AAAAAAAAAJk/lf-L0COOtGk/s1600-h/Moscow+044.JPG"></a>granite and 15 foot windows and glass and . . . it is a high-end shopping arcade! Armani, Gucci, Hugo Boss, Faberge, and more. . . Alicia would love it.<br /><br />My two hats are working well-- the Kangol cap and the Japanese JozipF. military-style one--nobody else here wears hats at all, and both of mine apparantly give my a slightly russkie look-- one a kind of military tougher look and the other a more middle-class prof sort of thing. . . in any case, I have numerous times been approached and asked for directions!<br /><br />My feet hurt. . . I walk and walk and walk. . . in part because I don't know where <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuQZlqGAfI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/5oO-JcsS_vk/s1600-h/Moscow+084.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222926962146017778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuQZlqGAfI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/5oO-JcsS_vk/s200/Moscow+084.JPG" border="0" /></a>I am going and don't know how to use taxis (everybody says "avoid taxis, they are the mafia and will rob you"), and in part because that is just what I do when traveling in order to just wander around and see what the normal folk are doing. In any case, I look forward to getting on the train and doing nothing and only walking to the restaraunt car now and then. I even bought some postcards to write and while away the time-- hope that some station will have a post-box to put them in.<br /><br />And oh yes-- hookers! In my last hotel there were, every night, 3 or 4 older fatter trashy looking women hanging out in the lobby, and if you looked in their direction they worked hard to make eye contact and smile invitingly. . . one even beckoned me over. . . shudder! And then, last night, about eleven or so (after a really good "Georgian" meal of stewed veal, some sort of baked beans, and various pickled thingies), I am getting ready to sleep and the phone rings! What the hell???? Who knows I am here? Did I leave something at the restaraunt? A bad English voice: "Russian girl massage? Massage Sex?" "Nyet, nyet, nyet!!" Oh well.<br /><br />So that's it. I am checked out of my hotel, will take the Metro over and find the train station and check my luggage for the day (train leaves at 9:21 pm) begin Phase Two.<br /><br />I miss all you folks-- send me a picture of a boat or something!Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-71298156278414222382008-06-19T05:54:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:10.553-08:00Still here, where is the train station?<div>ok, it's getting weird out here. . . everything is confusing. . . . can't find the station easily and now that I have found it, there is nothing listed on the board for my train (well, it doesn't depart until 9:35 and that is four hours away, but they have midnight departures listed). . . a little station<a class="image" title="Yaroslavsky Rail Terminal" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Yaroslavskiy_mzd.jpg"></a> (by Russian standards), you can walk to the platforms and wander about the trains that don't look like they are going any further than about twenty miles away. . no English signage or any hints anywhere. . . pointing to my ticket with a simpering look on my face gets me blank stares. . . I do like the guy in the <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHux3EMEtRI/AAAAAAAAAKk/DjLHTpXi72Q/s1600-h/TransSiberian+001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222963752441525522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHux3EMEtRI/AAAAAAAAAKk/DjLHTpXi72Q/s200/TransSiberian+001.JPG" border="0" /></a>conducter's outfit playing great classical music on the grand piano in the waiting room. . . on the other hand, next door is the Leningradsky Station that has English all over ("Long Distance Trains This Way" and "International Departures Here"), tourist agencies, and even this Internet cafe. Still no English, tho. So I am going to cruise all over the Internet (the fast and friendly info source) and hope it all works out.<br /><br />BTW, this must be how everybody else feels traveling in the States. I mean. . . it is true that the Russians have a bad rep, but in terms of traveling, well, this just ain't a tourist spot, with English-traveler friendly stuff everywhere. Imagine being Russian (NOT Borat, Russian) in the States, with no English. . . no Russian signs anywhere, everybody pretty rude and not speaking Russian, and things confusing. So I give 'em that-- my lack of prep and knowledge is my fault, not theirs.<br /><br />And I wonder if my method of just ripping pics from other pages will be easier than uploading from my camera. . .<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuxc_JWt2I/AAAAAAAAAKc/scjYoH24-IQ/s1600-h/TransSiberian+005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222963304411346786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuxc_JWt2I/AAAAAAAAAKc/scjYoH24-IQ/s200/TransSiberian+005.JPG" border="0" /></a>OK, just an aside for anybody ever looking for this train station that happens across this posting: it is indeed Yaroslavsky, aside from all indications to the contrary. Just wait patiently, your train will be listed on the left side of the board as soon as enough trains depart to make room for it. The train leaves from the platforms to the right side of the station as you are looking out a<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuyVKNL-lI/AAAAAAAAAKs/uLZVxgZEn6I/s1600-h/TransSiberian+006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222964269452884562" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuyVKNL-lI/AAAAAAAAAKs/uLZVxgZEn6I/s200/TransSiberian+006.JPG" border="0" /></a>t them. . .you can just walk over there at any time, there are no gates or ticket-takers or anything else. The conductor will collect your ticket when you board. Find the number stenciled on the platform that corresponds to your carriage and, about 30 minutes before <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuysxuKjyI/AAAAAAAAAK0/qn3mmkmQf2g/s1600-h/TransSiberian+010.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222964675197177634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuysxuKjyI/AAAAAAAAAK0/qn3mmkmQf2g/s200/TransSiberian+010.JPG" border="0" /></a>departure time the train will show up. Get on, find your compartment, and you are home for a number of days! Some things to bring: knife, fork, chopsticks (for all the noodles and sausage you will buy from the platform vendors), instant coffee, <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuzflNlmmI/AAAAAAAAAK8/_JXthwKdZLA/s1600-h/TransSiberian+019.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222965548012640866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuzflNlmmI/AAAAAAAAAK8/_JXthwKdZLA/s200/TransSiberian+019.JPG" border="0" /></a>spoon, cup, small towel (for sponge baths if you are in first class) and or some baby wipes, a good map to see where you are, maybe some salt and chile spices too. . . it all helps! Enjoy!</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuzsPlGb9I/AAAAAAAAALE/0OEOfh9KW-A/s1600-h/TransSiberian+014.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222965765543981010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHuzsPlGb9I/AAAAAAAAALE/0OEOfh9KW-A/s200/TransSiberian+014.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><div></div><div></div><div>BTW, this is Beijing-Ulaanbaatar-Moscow in Russian, Chinese, and Mongolian. . . can you spot the differences???</div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-58216305774906677812008-05-30T04:36:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:12.941-08:00Found the train. . . .Beam Time!Day One, 5/27:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu2suqf7CI/AAAAAAAAALQ/L5wij_VzkOY/s1600-h/TransSiberian+127.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222969072423005218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu2suqf7CI/AAAAAAAAALQ/L5wij_VzkOY/s200/TransSiberian+127.JPG" border="0" /></a>Well. Long story short, I found the train. Just to make me feel better, virtually everybody else that I talked to had the same confusion. . . including the Korean ambassador to Mongolia, who ended up in the compartment next to me.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div>So. . . I celebrated, opened the second bottle of Beam, found my way to the <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu25FdbL0I/AAAAAAAAALY/ji2BufWIAnE/s1600-h/TransSiberian+123.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222969284700614466" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu25FdbL0I/AAAAAAAAALY/ji2BufWIAnE/s200/TransSiberian+123.JPG" border="0" /></a>restaraunt car, got totally messed with some crazy <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu3JiZxNqI/AAAAAAAAALg/ot_mbWSN78I/s1600-h/TransSiberian+031.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222969567347816098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu3JiZxNqI/AAAAAAAAALg/ot_mbWSN78I/s200/TransSiberian+031.JPG" border="0" /></a>Russian mom, son, a few cousins, borscht, vodka, and more. Somehow I was so pleased and so out of it then when all was done I paid his bill too! Oh well, that just meant I had to eat more food from the platform or cup noodle sort of stuff, which was OK. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu5IVQUSGI/AAAAAAAAAL4/_cI0DQ10CgE/s1600-h/TransSiberian+036.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222971745661896802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu5IVQUSGI/AAAAAAAAAL4/_cI0DQ10CgE/s200/TransSiberian+036.JPG" border="0" /></a>We stopped about every six to eight hours, stretched for a bit, bought some <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu419f72XI/AAAAAAAAALw/J6R9AU420Cs/s1600-h/TransSiberian+029.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222971430047308146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu419f72XI/AAAAAAAAALw/J6R9AU420Cs/s200/TransSiberian+029.JPG" border="0" /></a>sausage or roast chicken or beer or pirogis from the babushkas on the platform, and continued our way. Pint 'o beer (can): $1.75; two litre bottle of beer: <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu4qvDeUBI/AAAAAAAAALo/vG5yDxRiiUM/s1600-h/TransSiberian+026.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222971237191274514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHu4qvDeUBI/AAAAAAAAALo/vG5yDxRiiUM/s200/TransSiberian+026.JPG" border="0" /></a>$3.00; roast breast of chicken: $5.00; coffee: $1.00.<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvSG2-VQ0I/AAAAAAAAAMA/5TNmBZRx7f0/s1600-h/TransSiberian+038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222999208144225090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvSG2-VQ0I/AAAAAAAAAMA/5TNmBZRx7f0/s200/TransSiberian+038.JPG" border="0" /></a>After all of the scare about tickets all sold out, etc. the <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvSexBdV7I/AAAAAAAAAMI/kXqAcftjiC0/s1600-h/TransSiberian+040.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222999618863585202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvSexBdV7I/AAAAAAAAAMI/kXqAcftjiC0/s200/TransSiberian+040.JPG" border="0" /></a>train was only about 40% occupied. . . my first-class, two-berth compartment had just the me in it. So it was very comfortable the whole way, just eating and drinking and sleeping and reading (<em>Genghis Khan: The Making of the Modern World</em>), a great read. . . we are all Mongols in the end, and he owned the entire known world. Ah! <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvStY9YORI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/oObTJo7TTdg/s1600-h/TransSiberian+052.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222999870102059282" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvStY9YORI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/oObTJo7TTdg/s200/TransSiberian+052.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Day 2: Just sleeping, a beer at a station stop, back to the bed, read, sleep.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvTC7KKDuI/AAAAAAAAAMY/XKAWGWqCUeg/s1600-h/TransSiberian+034.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223000240059715298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvTC7KKDuI/AAAAAAAAAMY/XKAWGWqCUeg/s200/TransSiberian+034.JPG" border="0" /></a>Day 3: Getting it down. . . more of the same. Standing in the corridor and watching scenery roll by. Meeting the usual crowd (besides the Korean ambassador and family and servants) of travelers. . . a couple from Chile out for about six months, twin brothers from Finland about three <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvZbDghNOI/AAAAAAAAANI/17oAGJyytkE/s1600-h/TransSiberian+055.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223007251687617762" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvZbDghNOI/AAAAAAAAANI/17oAGJyytkE/s200/TransSiberian+055.JPG" border="0" /></a>months, Swedish couple about the same (she is a professional musician and salsa teacher, and after being cooped up for a few days they got out their MP3 <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvZBfpno-I/AAAAAAAAANA/KT9hd0_zBGg/s1600-h/TransSiberian+176.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223006812565382114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvZBfpno-I/AAAAAAAAANA/KT9hd0_zBGg/s200/TransSiberian+176.JPG" border="0" /></a>player and rocked the platform at one stop). Most folks are doing about the same route as me, Europe to Russia to Mongolia to China, and then variously continuing on down into Southeast Asia (Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, Vietnam) and beyond. The folks from Chile are going *overland by bus* from China to India! Gawd, I couldn't imagine doing that again.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvTwuCgQmI/AAAAAAAAAMo/FBD2f_X2DQQ/s1600-h/TransSiberian+096.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223001026811937378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvTwuCgQmI/AAAAAAAAAMo/FBD2f_X2DQQ/s200/TransSiberian+096.JPG" border="0" /></a>Day 4: Unremitting scenery of birch tree stands and flat lands and scrub. . . today is bath day! Cold shower in the little wash area between berths (ah, first <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvTTAjVxFI/AAAAAAAAAMg/UeOQhAqhOEQ/s1600-h/TransSiberian+047.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223000516385424466" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvTTAjVxFI/AAAAAAAAAMg/UeOQhAqhOEQ/s200/TransSiberian+047.JPG" border="0" /></a>class!), so I filled up the hot water pot from the supply at the end of the car and did the old cup-sponge bath thing. It's been a while, but it still works.<br /><br />and HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MAKI! She is in Tokyo and I am somewhere, and it is twenty-eight years of wonderful times, and of course even longer if you count the courting era. The great friends and wonderful times are making me smile. . .<br /><br />Day 5: Passport Control! OK, I gotta relate this in some detail because it was too serious/comical. . . a five-hour+ stop, the soldiers come on the train and take our passports, all very stern and tough. . . and then dissapear! The train moves about two-hundred yards, we all get out and wander off into the dust-bowl of a nowhere frontier town and drink beer (and salsa dance) for a few hours. Ordered back on the train, we wait. Of course, during stops they lock the bathrooms because they just empty out onto the tracks. . . well, hours of beer drinking and no toilets made for some comical situations that I won't detail. . . they come back. I am ordered out of my compartment. A tough, no-nonsense school-teacher nazi-in-panyhose officer comrade olive drabs (w/ colonel-like epulets and all) with a holstered pistol and some sort of automatic rifle over her shouldr, starts directing a younger soldier on how to search. She was obviuosly in training. . . she made her pull up my Persian carpets, search the drain, and then. . . climb up on my bunk, straddling with one foot on the bunk and the other on the door-knob to the washroom, open the light fixture, take the fan off and search behind it, pull the bedding apart, take the light-switch covers off, and more! Apparantly there is a big smuggling problem with Mongolians bringing stuff into China (not the American taking stuff out), and this soldier was being trained.<br /><br />Well. Unlike the officer soldier, the searcher soldier, in olive-green fatigues, was a chubby blond about 24 years old, hair in a pony-tail, climbing all over the place while me and stern-woman (hair in bun, the whole mean thing) sat in the doorway watching. I wished I had my camera when she was straddling the bunk and doorknob, bending over, fatigues spread oh-so-tight across her ghetto-booty ass-- about six inches from our faces. Then she turned around to search something else and her crotch was splayed in our face (a "wide-on," as Ed would put it) and her blouse was about to burst! I had to smile (if not cheer), and I think her nazi-mommie boss even wanted to but just couldn't. . . oh, for a picture of that! After my compartment they did a quick search of everything else and left. 90 minutes later the train took off. . . and we all got to take a piss. Ahhhhhhh!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvYp7twfYI/AAAAAAAAAM4/SvKgfnE-Y5Y/s1600-h/TransSiberian+165.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223006407782071682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvYp7twfYI/AAAAAAAAAM4/SvKgfnE-Y5Y/s200/TransSiberian+165.JPG" border="0" /></a>Day 6: The scenery has changed. . . mountains and grasslands. . . pastures, wooden corrals. . . we passed <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvYVTKtVvI/AAAAAAAAAMw/uUhLEnYHeVY/s1600-h/TransSiberian+144.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223006053300262642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SHvYVTKtVvI/AAAAAAAAAMw/uUhLEnYHeVY/s200/TransSiberian+144.JPG" border="0" /></a>Lake Baikal at midnight Moscow time (the train schedule ran on Moscow time until Mongolia). . . which I suddenly realized would be about 6:00 am Ulaan Baatar time. . . train-time lag is different from jet lag, I suddenly realized. I went to bed.<br />Well, so that is it in a long nut-shell. I got into the station and had a pleasant surprise when somebody from the university/Center for Mongolian Studies was waiting for me at the station with a driver! That *never* happens, right?<br /><br />So I have been wandering the city-- a truly bleak, concret-and-garbage-and-dust sort of place. There are ten million bars and "pubs," and Sunday AM I was already accosted by several dodgy drunks! I am told that the Mongolians make the Russians look like beginners.<br /><br />Japanese and Koreans everywhere (Japanese works better at my hotel than English). . . Mongolia is selling mineral rights like crazy and trying to build, build, build. But more of that later, and hopefully some pics as well.<br /><br />So I just treated myself to the Japanese bath at my hotel and a massage. . . ahhhhhh, the best massage I have ever had, actually. No trendy new-age music or other mood-crap (the Simpons were even on the TV playing softly for the massage folks while they worked), just low lights, about six massage tables, and the strongest massage I have ever had. Cost for about 90 minutes: $20.<br /><br />It helped a great deal with "train legs," a new phenomena for me, but a bit like "sea legs:" I still have this odd leaning and rocking sensation when I am sitting still-- after 6 days on the train, perhaps normal?<br /><br />OK, enough for now. I miss all you guys and hope to hear from you.<br /><br />Day</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-67445959227368807182008-05-29T04:30:00.000-07:002009-02-11T17:38:45.559-08:00Ulaanbaatar Days. . .<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210555644726219570" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 182px; height: 152px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE-cwI5QEzI/AAAAAAAAAEY/i6E7XqSk2i4/s320/DSCN2191.JPG" width="200" border="0" height="139" /> <div>Well. I don't have much time to post anything these days, as this seminar keeps me pretty busy. I must say that it is a surprisingly good time, at least intellectually. I have never in my life traveled in a group, and I was a bit worried about that. . . actually, I am most always pretty snobby when I see the foreign group pile off the bus in a herd, complete with guide. I think the only times I have ever even been with a single <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE-dZvNEeMI/AAAAAAAAAEg/y2W6FV8ekqE/s1600-h/DSCN2275.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210556359384529090" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 227px; height: 163px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE-dZvNEeMI/AAAAAAAAAEg/y2W6FV8ekqE/s320/DSCN2275.JPG" width="234" border="0" height="163" /></a>person (other than family) is with Mike in Panama and Karl in India. However, this is working out well. The group, about ten folks (about half from the University of Missouri, which makes me feel at home from my undergrad days in Missouri), is all a different bunch of folks, and pretty much all but one or two are drinking buddies already (and later on I found the Bourbon drinker in Marian). And the seminar part is amazing-- I am really getting more out of learning the easy way then I ever have in a foreign port. Mostly we have one or two lectures a day and then visit museums, monuments, temples, or whatever at other times, and then go off in small groups for dinner and drinking in the evening. The lectures are incredible-- from the Deputy Director of the Unified Intelligence Agencies giving a briefing on security matters to laughing lamas babbling about Buddhism, it works really well. I am learning tremendously about this place.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mongolianmatters.com/uploaded_images/car_free_ulaanbaatar_peace_avenue_april-789593.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 251px;" alt="" src="http://www.mongolianmatters.com/uploaded_images/car_free_ulaanbaatar_peace_avenue_april-789593.JPG" border="0" height="198" /></a>BUT Ulaanbaatar (UB, as it is called) is still is right up there with the dustiest, concrete-ugliest, construction-and-butt-ugly city I have ever been in. Broken concrete, pavement heaves, dust and dirt. Like Russia, incredibly hot in the sun but it can drop down to below freezing in the nights, little things have can have huge impacts on the ecology of the place. . . a little less moisture one year, and the grasses don't grow the next, so the herds chomp everything down and what little moisture there is is not retained, and a five-year cycle of brown follows. One lecture said that current global warming predictions are for the Gobi to entirely consume Mongolia <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE-en_uzRcI/AAAAAAAAAEw/NAHq1J5Pyj8/s1600-h/DSCN2248.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210557703850771906" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE-en_uzRcI/AAAAAAAAAEw/NAHq1J5Pyj8/s320/DSCN2248.JPG" width="239" border="0" height="151" /></a>within fifty years! </div><div></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE-eGpx-zEI/AAAAAAAAAEo/WvflzSrKA2c/s1600-h/DSCN2246.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210557131022847042" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE-eGpx-zEI/AAAAAAAAAEo/WvflzSrKA2c/s320/DSCN2246.JPG" border="0" /></a> But, there is nonetheless a positively euphoric feeling in the air-- everybody is so excited and pleased with liberation from Russia (1991 or so) and the possibilities. They have lots of minerals to sell (with all sorts of interesting problems, from corruption to too much money) and everybody is way up-beat. So its cool!<br /><br />There are Soviet-like statues everywhere in town-- Lenin of course, and their own revolutionary heroes as well. Stalin, who offed almost 10% of the population back in the later '30's, was removed and now is the centerpiece of a disco right down the street! LOL!<br /><br /><a href="http://ragusatour.mn/image/khan/4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 169px; height: 251px;" alt="" src="http://ragusatour.mn/image/khan/4.jpg" border="0" height="304" /></a> Tomorrow we leave for a four day jeep trek through the steppes, hot on the trail of Chingis Khan. Chingis Khan (Ghengis Khan) is a god over here. If you don't know, he went from being an orphaned herder/hunter kid in a tribe that nobody really ever heard of (the Mongols) to having perhaps the world's largest empire within about 25 years. As they say, his horses drank the waters from the Pacific to the Mediterranean, from the Vietnam shorelines to the Siberian, from Moscow to Korea. He has become an incredibly potent foil to the Western cultural/political incursions, and most all Asians take great pride in their Chingis. . . but here in Mongolia, he is a cult fetish item. Everything is Chingis, from the beer to the vodka to the candy bars to the images in the Buddhist temples to the pics on the cash. So, following the ancient "Secret History of the Mongols," we have a number of jeeps and are going out to the steppes to retrace his early life. . . feels a bit like a pilgrimage! We have ger camps for the evenings as we make about a 1,300 km journey: <a class="weblink" href="http://www.mongoliacenter.org/IFDS2008" target="browserView">http://www.mongoliacenter.org/IFDS2008</a><br /><br /><br /><br />OK, gotta run. More later.</div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-73052774108639107072008-05-28T01:58:00.000-07:002009-02-11T17:12:18.200-08:00The Chingis Khan Pilgrimage<div><div><p align="right"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE5JGNrRaMI/AAAAAAAAADQ/qEXtL215jfM/s1600-h/DSCN2357.JPG"></a></p><p>OK-- This is a mess, the computer is puking, I am pissed at dumb computers (among other things) and outa this computer cafe!! Maybe another day. . . <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE5JGNrRaMI/AAAAAAAAADQ/qEXtL215jfM/s1600-h/DSCN2357.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210182190013442242" style="margin: 10px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE5JGNrRaMI/AAAAAAAAADQ/qEXtL215jfM/s320/DSCN2357.JPG" width="289" border="0" height="221" /></a></p><br /><br /><div align="justify">Well, we rolled out of UB in our three-van caravan early Friday, ready to start tracing some of the Great Khan's life stories-- visiting where he was born, captured the thieves who stole his eight<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJLebBFBhI/AAAAAAAAASY/AA6g3FGAQMY/s1600-h/stuck.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224821503723636242" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJLebBFBhI/AAAAAAAAASY/AA6g3FGAQMY/s200/stuck.jpg" border="0" /></a> horses, perhaps died, was crowned Great Khan, and the like. Two Russian vans and one Mitsubishi-- tho the Japanese van looks nicer, it will turn <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJLT9gMqUI/AAAAAAAAASQ/TAPZewxuYJw/s1600-h/stuck.jpg"></a>out that the Russkie vans are sturdier in the vast, vast steppes that we will traverse.<br /></div><br /><div align="justify">All are four-wheel drive, but the Russian vans seem to have better suspension and handle the fact of virtually no roads at all better than the Mistsubishi, which likes paved roads. . . unfortunately there are none.<br /></div><br /><p>Along the way, we stopped for lunch at a sort of "town". . . and in my wanderings I wandered into a snooker room-- I have never played, but with the encouragement of the guys and a few shots of the ever-present vodka, I took a few shots and missed every time! Oh well-- the vodka was good, I only held <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE5NIyAjrHI/AAAAAAAAADY/9pJ0tAVZXyo/s1600-h/DSCN2293.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210186632172645490" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE5NIyAjrHI/AAAAAAAAADY/9pJ0tAVZXyo/s320/DSCN2293.JPG" border="0" /></a>the crew up for a few minutes and was able to snooze a bit through the grinding ride.</p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJH6r3PdnI/AAAAAAAAASA/Ev6H2YgOMNs/s1600-h/ChingisKhan+Pilgrimage+022.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224817591235606130" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJH6r3PdnI/AAAAAAAAASA/Ev6H2YgOMNs/s200/ChingisKhan+Pilgrimage+022.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><p>As I said, Chingis Khan is huge over here (about 120 feet huge, in this case): </p><br /><br /><br /><p></p><br /><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJK74fSkWI/AAAAAAAAASI/vI-dFQ0TZJc/s1600-h/ChingisKhan+Pilgrimage+012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224820910339559778" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJK74fSkWI/AAAAAAAAASI/vI-dFQ0TZJc/s200/ChingisKhan+Pilgrimage+012.JPG" border="0" /></a>Well, I gotta see a man about a horse. . . .this was the line that we all used when we made a pit stop. . . in the beginning, we would all politely wander off in different directions, hopefully discrete, the girls in particular preferring to crouch and pee behind a hill or whatever. . . by the end of day one, however, we would pile out of the van and if somebody made it as far as around to the back of the van that was considered rather polite of them. . . we are slowly getting weirder. . . </p></div></div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-86270789673793366822008-05-27T20:42:00.000-07:002009-02-11T17:13:56.713-08:00More of the steppe<div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224817243765548898" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJHmdb7J2I/AAAAAAAAAR4/1LK7pJ_Zdsw/s200/ChingisKhan+Pilgrimage+228.JPG" border="0" /> <div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210465578918089058" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9K1nnQEWI/AAAAAAAAADg/zAboBZsiogM/s320/DSCN2314.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />Well, let's see if this works better today.<br /><br />So, after an easy start, we headed off-road, sometimes on various ruts but often just lurching across the grasslands, fording rivers, and making our own way. We had an anthropoligist in the lead van who had spent most of his life secretly studying Chingis Khan-- the subject was taboo during the Soviet era, a possible nationalist rallying point that was forbidden. He navigated sort of like sailors of old-- just knowing the mountains and terrain, sometimes a familiar ger. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9Lg9my_gI/AAAAAAAAADo/XDUrY2bbWKU/s1600-h/DSCN2475.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210466323556138498" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9Lg9my_gI/AAAAAAAAADo/XDUrY2bbWKU/s320/DSCN2475.JPG" border="0" /></a>Horsies, sheep, goats, cows, and the now-and-then camel everywhere, with the occasional herder boy attending the flock but mostly just grazing. Whenever you hear a population count for a "province" (soum) they also always give the livestock headcount!<br /><br />The vans too had a life of there own: Chingis, the lead van; Jamuga, the life-long friend turned traitor (who now and then tried to pass the lead <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJL8bVBkWI/AAAAAAAAASg/nc8V4E0B_ZY/s1600-h/Horses.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224822019203371362" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SIJL8bVBkWI/AAAAAAAAASg/nc8V4E0B_ZY/s200/Horses.jpg" border="0" /></a>van), and then the Von Khan Van, ruled by the German prof, who saw to it that nobody pilfered from the provisions, kept in her van (I was happy to be in her van, just in case the group thing went weird). Sometimes it seemed like we were racing around like the horses, just going here and there as we liked, playing games. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9OYDhDHmI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZpRPkZuu5hg/s1600-h/DSCN2421.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210469469058702946" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9OYDhDHmI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZpRPkZuu5hg/s320/DSCN2421.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />For food we did the traditional thing: drop in unannounced at whatever ger (yurt) happened to be nearby-- in such a sparsley populated land unexpected callers both needed to taken care of and provided a bit of entertainment. Of course, with such a large crew we would usually ask at <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9M79kA52I/AAAAAAAAADw/ou47dPYWJ1g/s1600-h/DSCN2417.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210467886912563042" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9M79kA52I/AAAAAAAAADw/ou47dPYWJ1g/s320/DSCN2417.JPG" border="0" /></a>one ger where a ger might be that could feed us, and then wander off in search of it. Here is my favorite. As the grandma and grand-daughter were getting tea and food for us, gramps road back in on his horse, slilghtly bemused to see this gaggle of foreigners poaching his food. . . and then out<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9NSUo4OgI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cfQZHIWrEZ0/s1600-h/DSCN2408.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210468271064103426" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9NSUo4OgI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cfQZHIWrEZ0/s320/DSCN2408.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9NnL9QJDI/AAAAAAAAAEA/ZRa3tASIxTU/s1600-h/DSCN2416.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210468629510890546" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9NnL9QJDI/AAAAAAAAAEA/ZRa3tASIxTU/s320/DSCN2416.JPG" border="0" /></a>came the home-made yogurt vodka-- damn, it had a punch. The fella kinda reminds me of Captain Bob from our marina. . .<br /><br /><br /><br />They live far away from everything-- no cars, electric, nada. Some gers have vehicles, solar panels and satellite dishes, but most have none.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9OHW5aPKI/AAAAAAAAAEI/PQawyihvHvo/s1600-h/DSCN2419.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210469182203378850" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SE9OHW5aPKI/AAAAAAAAAEI/PQawyihvHvo/s320/DSCN2419.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-19600254377448698252008-05-26T20:56:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:15.691-08:00Capture The Flags! Unite The Nations!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCgTIXIlDI/AAAAAAAAAE8/c3FHZ-97g8g/s1600-h/DSCN2499.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210841019390137394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCgTIXIlDI/AAAAAAAAAE8/c3FHZ-97g8g/s320/DSCN2499.JPG" border="0" /></a>Well, the Chingis Khan spirit has taken over-- or perhaps it was the vodka. In any case, I decided that my little-guy Napolean comples could only be assuaged by uniting all of the "people of the felt tents" into one tribe, and beginning my <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCgVtYZtiI/AAAAAAAAAFM/IJkaN7_9-S8/s1600-h/DSCN2520.JPG"></a>conquest of the universe. So a midnight run around the ger camp. . . one flag, two flags, ALL THE FLAGS! All mine!<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCgVJQzMXI/AAAAAAAAAFE/IYgE1ZWVZ5U/s1600-h/DSCN2514.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210841053991743858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCgVJQzMXI/AAAAAAAAAFE/IYgE1ZWVZ5U/s320/DSCN2514.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCh8PdtBbI/AAAAAAAAAFU/R6IAVnKvwLw/s1600-h/DSCN2520.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210842825183004082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCh8PdtBbI/AAAAAAAAAFU/R6IAVnKvwLw/s320/DSCN2520.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />And since all the girls (given the large number of folks from U. of Missouri on this trip, I have reverted to Midwestern language) are now my chattel, I gave Nicole to the "dreamy" Marine that she fawns over. . .<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><br /><p><br /></p>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-2923109470441341852008-05-25T21:13:00.000-07:002009-02-11T17:39:40.746-08:00UB never looked so good!Well, our 1300 kilometer voyage came to a dusty end-- only one vehicle mishap (fortunately we were packing two spare distributers), and one forty-minute sandstorm that we just straight on through, buffeted by the blasts of sand and generally unable to see anything at all in any direction. I must say we were all quite happy to get back to the rubble and dust of the city. The Japanese bath in my hotel is probably clogged from all the dirt I washed off.<br /><br />And so the seminar ended with a farewell party at a local brewery.<br /><br />And now I am off on my own, doing some of the meeting and planning that I actually came to do, in advance os several Mongolia/Buddhism projects for next year at Smith. And, of course, I ended up shit-faced drunk at a political fundraiser-- the future PM, most of the Democrat party parliment members important<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCj6ywCDGI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PS6mMLCeaOE/s1600-h/DSCN2582.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210844999318637666" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCj6ywCDGI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PS6mMLCeaOE/s320/DSCN2582.JPG" border="0" /></a>lamas, artists, and movie stars. I didn't really have the right duds, but . . .<br /><br /><br /><br />Glenn Mullin, an old colleague going back as far as 1974 in Dharamsala, escorted me around and all I can say is that it was one of those things that could only happen on the road. . . and I am glad I wasn't driving!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCj7hrJhJI/AAAAAAAAAF0/z1joW_jtENs/s1600-h/DSCN2606.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210845011914622098" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SFCj7hrJhJI/AAAAAAAAAF0/z1joW_jtENs/s320/DSCN2606.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><p><br /></p><p>And that's it! Tomorrow morning I am back on the train-- the Trans Mongolian Railway for two days to Beijing! I look forward to being the practice-object for all of the Chinese who have been ordered to be super tourist-friendly for the Olympics.</p><p>See ya!</p>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-88149108172410383162008-05-24T02:49:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:17.389-08:00Last night in Ulaanbaatar, First Day in Beijing<div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Onwards to Beijing</span></strong><br /><br />Well, this will be short-- they don't seem to have much concern for fast and everywhere Web access here in Beijing-- perhaps info-control? In any case, I have yet to find an internet cafe, and my hotel is charging nearly $20/hour (up from 80 cents/hour in Ulaanbaatar), and the connection sucks.<br /><br />In any case.<br /><br />I had one more great night and evening with Glenn Mullin (billion-seller Buddhist author ex-pat Canadian), talking about our future symposium at Smith on the rebirth of Buddhism in Mondolia. We were also joined by a another schemer on the project, Lhagvademchig, and then the evening (and vodka) wore on and artists, film makers (one working with National Geo and one with NHK), academics and a few others joined us. . . I called it an early night 'cause of my 8:05 am train, and perhaps best that I did so as the night looked to continue on.<br /><br />The train was a joy to get on-- after six days on the first part from Moscow to <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-khjYPicI/AAAAAAAAANY/Sgj9l8nOPw8/s1600-h/TransMongolian+005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224074989112625602" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-khjYPicI/AAAAAAAAANY/Sgj9l8nOPw8/s200/TransMongolian+005.JPG" border="0" /></a>Ulaanbaatar, it almost felt like home. . . and lo and behold, I even had the same conductor!! And, again, tho the train had more passengers than before, I had a first-class two-berth to myself. Two days felt like too short a time for sleeping and catching up, but what can you do?<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-kUUmoUTI/AAAAAAAAANQ/_ON6AC86isk/s1600-h/TransMongolian+028.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224074761808138546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-kUUmoUTI/AAAAAAAAANQ/_ON6AC86isk/s200/TransMongolian+028.JPG" border="0" /></a>The diner car was incredible! Carved wood everything in Mongolian motif (pics later), great staff, and good cold beer. Alas, when I got up in the morning the car had changed and I now had a fairly sterile Chinese car with old-school surly Chinese staff. Sneered at my Mongolian money--bad blood 'tween these peoples, for good reason on both sides. . . nothing in Beijing even mentions the fact that it was Khubalai Khan that founded the city with its broad avenues (mostly for the galloping Mongol horses), and nothing in the massively massive Forbidden City (now the Palace Museum, site of the former Imperial Palace) mentions that it was Khubalai who originally built the "Forbidden City" as a Mongolian refuge in the middle of the newly built capital, where only Mongols could enter and they lived nomad-like in their beloved gers/yurts. . .<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-kx6oTYYI/AAAAAAAAANg/MAEr2HZMPOs/s1600-h/TransMongolian+049.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224075270231908738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-kx6oTYYI/AAAAAAAAANg/MAEr2HZMPOs/s200/TransMongolian+049.JPG" border="0" /></a>No border laughter like last time. . . tho, because the rails are different guage in China and Russia/Mongolia, they actually spent about three hours lifting our cars up on jacks and *changing* the wheels! That was impressive. The customs folks freaked a bit when they found my Russian book on the Mongolian temple in St. Petersburg w/ a picture of a Tibetan monk on the cover. . . assumed that I must be covert for the Dalia-clique, likely trying to snuff the Olympic torch. So they questioned me and searched all printed material fairly carefully (they missed the 2 kilos of coke, fourteen illegal Mexicans, and four brothels that I had stowed under the bunk), and in the end let me go.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-lBFdCD2I/AAAAAAAAANo/lZsL_S1jWM4/s1600-h/Beijing+045.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224075530835464034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-lBFdCD2I/AAAAAAAAANo/lZsL_S1jWM4/s200/Beijing+045.JPG" border="0" /></a>Beijing is wonderful-- a complete change from the rubble and concrete and dust of Mongolia. All new and wonderful and fancy w/ "Olympic face" everywhere. Nonetheless, there is a stark difference 'tween the completely modern and forward-looking folk of Ulaanbaatar and the urbanites of Beijing, who still feel a bit like they are in a fifties movie. Even in fashion, the long-legged hotties of Russia are no more, and the tight-jeaned Britany-belly girls of Mongolia are also sorely missed. Everybody is very sincere, sort of like <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-mEEhMsTI/AAAAAAAAAOA/pZJb7G1hMEE/s1600-h/Beijing+347.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224076681635737906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-mEEhMsTI/AAAAAAAAAOA/pZJb7G1hMEE/s200/Beijing+347.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-l4OoosHI/AAAAAAAAAN4/MmlXcBqhIx4/s1600-h/Beijing+347.JPG"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-ueauafnI/AAAAAAAAAPw/pYJKaYleECk/s1600-h/Beijing+195.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224085930366369394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-ueauafnI/AAAAAAAAAPw/pYJKaYleECk/s200/Beijing+195.JPG" border="0" /></a>earnest university students bent on furthering self and nation, sort of nerdy-sweet old fashioned looking. And as far as I can tell, Beijing shuts down around 10:30. I am sure that there is a lot I don't know yet, but so far the long arm of Mao is still lurching about. . .<br /><br />And the joint is hoppin' for the Olympics! Everything is spruced up or on its <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-ld2FrOsI/AAAAAAAAANw/4-0053gLJRQ/s1600-h/Beijing+043.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224076024927173314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-ld2FrOsI/AAAAAAAAANw/4-0053gLJRQ/s200/Beijing+043.JPG" border="0" /></a>way, the TV regularly has public-service spots showing how to help old people across the street, prohibiting spitting in public places, exhorting smiling, and the like. Otherwise it is news spots on the progress of the torch. . . and let's not forget the omnipresent mascots:<br />Beibei is the Fish, Jingjing is the Panda, Huanhuan is <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-wGCNebTI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/_XWymUjE2pk/s1600-h/beijing_olympic_mascot_2008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224087710492159282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-wGCNebTI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/_XWymUjE2pk/s320/beijing_olympic_mascot_2008.jpg" border="0" /></a>the Olympic Flame, Yingying is the Tibetan Antelope and Nini is the Swallow. When you put their names together -- Bei Jing Huan <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-vUX-HqiI/AAAAAAAAAQI/9G3XhCWLe-M/s1600-h/BeijingOlympicMascot.jpg"></a>Ying Ni -- they say "Welcome to Beijing." They will close me down for this copyright infringement, as they are trying really hard to show the world that they can respect that sort of thing. . . yeah, sure. . . I bought my Olympic crap off the street for a buck or two. In the stores they have everything from T-shirts and keychains to $5,000 commemorative coins, five-foot tall cloisone Olympic vases, stuffed mascots, and more.<br /><br />Of course the earthquake also gets a lot of press. . . I hate to be an ass, but between the Olympics and a national tragedy the media is working it for all its worth in terms of national image. I wanna be a big fat panda!<br /><br />Things are a bit cheaper here, so that is good. . . I swore off buying more crap that I don't need, but I am now filling up on it. . . Olympic rip-off hats, Olympic glow-in-the-dark electro spin tops, Mao-this and Mao-that. . .<br /><br />And finally, the greatest thing of all! My hotel, for $93/night, turns out to be a really great and even luxerious joint! Nearly five-star, I would say. Huge king-sized bed, amenities up the wazoo, about ten huge restaraunts, free gym (I am so Panda-fat from all the beer I can hardly move) and sauna, and just about <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-mjWy9BZI/AAAAAAAAAOI/FH3FGhSfm7M/s1600-h/Beijing+280.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224077219117991314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-mjWy9BZI/AAAAAAAAAOI/FH3FGhSfm7M/s200/Beijing+280.JPG" border="0" /></a>everything one could want, including central location about ten minutes walk from Tienanmen, Forbidden <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-uTZNkDXI/AAAAAAAAAPo/j3h5GqumG44/s1600-h/Beijing+190.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224085740981587314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-uTZNkDXI/AAAAAAAAAPo/j3h5GqumG44/s200/Beijing+190.JPG" border="0" /></a>Palace, the shopping districts, and all that. The only downside is that in the hotel everything is way, way overpriced (to make up for the cheapo internet rate)? The beer that in the store costs about fifty cents, about a buck or so in most restaraunts, costs $7 in the hotel, and I can't afford the restaraunts. Which, of course, is just fine because I am slowly getting used to the city (figured out the subway today) and have taken to getting lost in small weird neighborhoods <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-uwQLqeXI/AAAAAAAAAP4/7vnEeIwmWQk/s1600-h/Beijing+205.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224086236773906802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-uwQLqeXI/AAAAAAAAAP4/7vnEeIwmWQk/s200/Beijing+205.JPG" border="0" /></a>stolling, eating and drinking. . . today got invited into a majhong game (which I don't understand) by some <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-u6MavsJI/AAAAAAAAAQA/O1o17n9JNk8/s1600-h/Beijing+211.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224086407562113170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-u6MavsJI/AAAAAAAAAQA/O1o17n9JNk8/s200/Beijing+211.JPG" border="0" /></a>totally earthy kind of sweaty guys and swillin' mamas. . . they forced me to smoke foul cigarettes and drink skanky Chinese bootleg something. . . probably full of lead. Oh well.<br /><br />OK, enough. This will cost me two days of drinking budget!!<br /><br />I'll be back in a few days-- look forward to seeing you all!!!<br /><br />PS-- I am about too old for this solo travel. . . after a lifetime of it, from now on I am dragging Maki, even if she wants to go to Europe more than Asia!! </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-59814763246707425952008-05-23T00:51:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:17.892-08:00Walking through China (or so it feels)<div><div>Well, Beijing is a great city. Completely clean, very green-- big parks with exercise equipment for the older folks and kids alike, green boulevards in the <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-nJ6VJvJI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/B2RtcpfQScM/s1600-h/Beijing+039.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224077881491700882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-nJ6VJvJI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/B2RtcpfQScM/s200/Beijing+039.JPG" border="0" /></a>middle of the streets, trees all over, even in central Beijing-- extremely easy to get around in (Khubalia Khan did a great job laying the original city out), an easy to use subway that I think is even more modern than in Japan, signs in Chinese and English (and my recognition of the Chinese characters -- if not understanding the modern pronunciation) is still<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-qOFrVcHI/AAAAAAAAAO4/rxqE6dX9Iw8/s1600-h/Beijing+118.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224081251791892594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-qOFrVcHI/AAAAAAAAAO4/rxqE6dX9Iw8/s200/Beijing+118.JPG" border="0" /></a> better than the Cyrllic that I picked up in Russia and Mongolia, and taxis are incredibly cheap and totally safe and easy. . . I don't think you can spend more than $5 to get from one side of the central area to the other, and that covers just about all that you would want or need to do in a one week stay. Tourists everywhere-- and, interestingly, mostly Chinese folks come to the big city to see the sites.<br /><br />Still signs of the old ways-- men sitting around a table playing dominoes or <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-nU2StC7I/AAAAAAAAAOY/2I2NSFg49Z0/s1600-h/Beijing+195.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224078069386251186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-nU2StC7I/AAAAAAAAAOY/2I2NSFg49Z0/s200/Beijing+195.JPG" border="0" /></a>some sort of Chinese chess, narrow winding alleys that go on forever with all sorts of live scenes going on, kids getting their hair cut at street side barbers under the trees, old markets and fruit stalls, and the like.<br /><br />I was really looking forward to getting here and having some good food. The borscht of Russia and the always chewey mutton and beef of Mongolia got old fast. My first-ever memory of China, from around 1980, was watching 5 or 6 guys sitting around a table at lunch-time. . . they were some sort of construction workers, and this was their <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-qmyIUg6I/AAAAAAAAAPA/2DTI8B2d5P4/s1600-h/Beijing+279.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224081676041487266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-qmyIUg6I/AAAAAAAAAPA/2DTI8B2d5P4/s200/Beijing+279.JPG" border="0" /></a>mid-day meal, and we were in some sort of local joint, pretty much a sloppy diner kind of place. Well, between them they had about 20 dishes of every sort of food on the table and about 12 large bottles of beer! That gave me a clue about eating in China. And it is still that way. . . the only problem? A) I am only one person, and half of any given plate will fill me up, so I usually end up with just a couple of things and leave a lot left over; and, of course B) I don't know how to order. Just about every plain person in every restaraunt is eating way better than me!!!<br /><br />In one dumpling shop that had a completely new (for me) style of boiled dumpling, with a sort of soup inside that the meat floated around in there was a sign: "If I can but have a dumpling with roe soup from Baxue province I count myself among the nobility!"<br /><br />And they were damn good!</div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-74122626621712242842008-05-22T01:03:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:18.205-08:00Buddhism is sort of alive<div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-oBXCo-XI/AAAAAAAAAOo/tcIX5Vh-EiE/s1600-h/Beijing+166.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224078834091489650" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-oBXCo-XI/AAAAAAAAAOo/tcIX5Vh-EiE/s200/Beijing+166.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-n5xFCZgI/AAAAAAAAAOg/keoi_rDAgjY/s1600-h/Beijing+147.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224078703641912834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-n5xFCZgI/AAAAAAAAAOg/keoi_rDAgjY/s200/Beijing+147.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>OK, this is the obligatory mention of meeting with university colleagues and visiting temples, talking to monks, and in general surveying the condition of Buddhism here in case the IRS guy wants to dispute my tax write-off.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-p2DmV1TI/AAAAAAAAAOw/Un33YKFE9mA/s1600-h/Beijing+317.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224080838917215538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-p2DmV1TI/AAAAAAAAAOw/Un33YKFE9mA/s200/Beijing+317.JPG" border="0" /></a>So there is some Buddhism and some temples.<br /><br />And some people in universities that study Buddhism.<br /><br />And a hippie Tibetan shop (fake Tibetans in Bob Marley dreads) selling Tibetan stuff to tourists.</div></div></div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-11441385927964016572008-05-21T01:07:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:19.176-08:00Seeing the sights<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-zzc6C71I/AAAAAAAAAQo/-roIqY0o-6c/s1600-h/Beijing+081.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224091789287419730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-zzc6C71I/AAAAAAAAAQo/-roIqY0o-6c/s200/Beijing+081.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-rQX9zZOI/AAAAAAAAAPI/FEfxLlPAqvw/s1600-h/Beijing+074.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224082390572557538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-rQX9zZOI/AAAAAAAAAPI/FEfxLlPAqvw/s200/Beijing+074.JPG" border="0" /></a>Tienanmen Square, the Forbidden City, dead Mao-under-glass, climbing the Great Wall, Temple of Heaven, the giant pandas at the Beijing Zoo, silk factories, <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-rrWePg6I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/0zrEB70mgpI/s1600-h/Beijing+027.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224082854028215202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-rrWePg6I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/0zrEB70mgpI/s200/Beijing+027.JPG" border="0" /></a>Great Hall of the People, the Lama Temple, the Confucian Academy (another product of the Mongol dynasty), walking through the not-yet-completed Olympic Village, and more.<br /><br />I am completely sore from the great wall. I got a guide with a van, and two other folks joined me for the jaunt. . . as he stretched out to nap in the van while we <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-tWTqVpdI/AAAAAAAAAPY/ccjdsNT1UK4/s1600-h/Beijing+330.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224084691519645138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-tWTqVpdI/AAAAAAAAAPY/ccjdsNT1UK4/s200/Beijing+330.JPG" border="0" /></a>climbed up the wall, he noted that, "Chairman Mao says that you are not a hero until you climb the Great Wall."<br /><br />Well.<br /><br />Just to make things interesting I challenged 19-year old Amy (a "Tazzie", if you can figure that one out) to a race. . . after the first hundred or so *very* steep steps I saw the tower come into view and figured that I would make it without dying. . . turned the corner, and say another section of about 300 steps. . . and then another 200 or so steps, mostly about 18-20 inches high.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-tge0J5_I/AAAAAAAAAPg/Elrq76imc80/s1600-h/Beijing+331.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224084866312300530" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-tge0J5_I/AAAAAAAAAPg/Elrq76imc80/s200/Beijing+331.JPG" border="0" /></a> . . I swore that no matter what I was calling it quits at the next tower--needless to say the Tazzie was long gone ahead, and the other guy was having a hard time because he has a fear of heights, and at some stages looking down was a rather terrifying thing (lots of folks were coming down backwards, holding the steps as they carefully and slowly descended) . . . well, OK, I couldn't stop at the next tower, so I kept going and <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-xvjZFtJI/AAAAAAAAAQY/jKqEKkYU3ag/s1600-h/Beijing+344.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224089523285505170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-xvjZFtJI/AAAAAAAAAQY/jKqEKkYU3ag/s200/Beijing+344.JPG" border="0" /></a>going and going. . . . . . I began to figure it was all a bad joke, and our guide knew that, in fact, the whole point of the wall was that it never ended (at least not for about 6,000 miles). Actually, it did finally stop. In the end I would say there were several thousand steps, perhaps about 3 kilometers in all.<br /><br />Was it worth it (other than bragging rights or being a Maoist hero)? Sort of.<br /><br />Then we wondered around the Olympic village, and then I led an expedition to find the skanky parts of the old city and the winding alleys that used to have all the gambling dens, opium, and other Jamie sorts of things.<br /><br />Well, times they do change. The area of town that I was looking for is completely -- and very charmingly-- re-done in a sort of retro Susie Wong-esqu fashion, so that it actually looks like it did in the seedy days but in fact is now a fairly trendy shopping and bar district. So the beer that usually costs $2 in a bar or restaurant costs $4.50, the obligatory Bob Marley reggae bar is there, cute little paddle boats in the canal with couples paddling about, silk stores, souvenir shops, and the like. Oh well, when in Rome. . . so Amy, myself, and Ian from <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-ynM9E9CI/AAAAAAAAAQg/ecPNjluT3xM/s1600-h/Beijing+353.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224090479335109666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-ynM9E9CI/AAAAAAAAAQg/ecPNjluT3xM/s200/Beijing+353.JPG" border="0" /></a>Florida proceeded to get completely trashed (me having discovered the local evil brew "er guo dao jiu"), ending up at a disco where "Olympic friendship" got me two free beers for showing my passport and they had go-go girls in short-shorts w/ white go-go boots. I taught the young-uns how to bargain (first rule: you can't get cheated if you remember that the correct price for anything is whatever you are willing to pay for it). It turns out that I am really quite good at this, since I really don't want anything (I have enough buddhas, art, curios, and other crap from my travels, Maki's family, my family, and whatever to rotate it in and out for years without repetition) and therefore just don't care about actually getting whatever is being sold and so end up with prices that surprise even me (typically about 15% of the starting price, and rarely end up going so low that it is too low).<br /><br />I don't remember how we got back to our various hotels (I sort of remember that as the old guy I put all the student travelers in cabs and paid their way home), but I woke up with a big headache and calf cramps from the Great Wall.<br /><br />A grand time was had by all.<br /><br />Soaked in my Jaccuzzi for an hour.</div></div></div></div></div></div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-72993095477232233512008-05-20T21:23:00.000-07:002008-07-02T11:21:08.382-07:00A new travel scheme: couch surfingI forgot to mention this new kid's way to travel. . . we all know sofa-surfing-- you or your friends, out of work or kicked out of the house, crashing around at various friend's houses until you get someplace to live again (I believe my daughter is now becoming a pro at this). Well, the 19-year-old Tazzie that was part of our drinking crew the other evening taught me about "couch-surfing." Apparantly akin to the social networking of MySpace and Facebook, you can put your profile up on the web and just travel the world crashing at different places with folks who are just congenial and open their houses up for free. She saved a few years of working money, postponed "uni" (university) until she knows what she wants to do, bought a one-way ticket to Paris with a stopover in Beijing. She was completely thrilled and in awe ("I can't believe I am in China, just a girl from nowhere and here I am . . . I can't believe I am in China. . . I can't believe. . .) and not sure if she will ever go home. Figures that before long she will need to work somewhere, but in the meantime is meeting a buddy in Paris and couch-surfing the world.<br /><br />Well, maybe once upon a time. At the moment I am liking my five-star hotel at three-star prices. . ..Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-29606178487760463092008-05-19T21:29:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:19.677-08:00The oldsters have it down in Beijing<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-0pICBPII/AAAAAAAAAQw/H7P8deOV7Fs/s1600-h/Beijing+227.JPG"></a><br /><p align="left"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='238' height='194' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzX6slL6VB16DQot1R5kKhMurs6M7-PyYkmjXvdkOgMnHcWm2Wz7mAwC08NKje1t781qNaICcBNqV5Zm-1U7g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p align="left"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='249' height='195' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzoi47TpDvqgitsvqEuW-Ha3ePor6vQZTQ0xc8lYAXn61rTPR8Sw2DWyKJqbO4Bzj7-DQw1lyDLeOccXSO_hg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p>Wow! I spent the morning at the totally beautiful downtown park<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-0pICBPII/AAAAAAAAAQw/H7P8deOV7Fs/s1600-h/Beijing+227.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224092711396654210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-0pICBPII/AAAAAAAAAQw/H7P8deOV7Fs/s200/Beijing+227.JPG" border="0" /></a> of Beihai, and the place was jumping! Literally-- thousands of people strolling, doing taichi, acrobatics<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-04ugcITI/AAAAAAAAARI/m5lNBYySCDo/s1600-h/Beijing+231.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224092979422830898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-04ugcITI/AAAAAAAAARI/m5lNBYySCDo/s200/Beijing+231.JPG" border="0" /></a>, full drum sets and bands, playing bandmitton, calesthenics, singing, and more. Everybody was having a grand time, I must say. If you ever get over here, in addition to the must-see temples and blah-blah, this is what the folks actually do and totally worth hanging around in the midst of. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-1HAjE0qI/AAAAAAAAARQ/nWO-_mjJjIM/s1600-h/Beijing+250.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224093224783893154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-1HAjE0qI/AAAAAAAAARQ/nWO-_mjJjIM/s200/Beijing+250.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />At <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-0rkoQWuI/AAAAAAAAARA/LNAFzT1k7I8/s1600-h/Beijing+242.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224092753432959714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-0rkoQWuI/AAAAAAAAARA/LNAFzT1k7I8/s200/Beijing+242.JPG" border="0" /></a>night too, tons of people biking around the sights (all lit up for the evening), eating from stalls, young 'uns doing what they do the world 'round, and basically just taking it easy.<br />Sweet!<br /><p align="left"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzoe8U2yBpPPI1hdWqsoO1meszfqgIkl0XBOP96Ly_0KtO2DOUomwSXYr4egtsggthdSXXdVlW8-4x30gOoNg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406273486648679646.post-28393252318305032792008-05-17T14:10:00.000-07:002008-11-18T13:43:20.031-08:00Home at last. . . and riots in UlaanbaatarAh, as they say, taking off for an adventure is always great, being on the road is wonderful . . . but coming home is best. <div><div><div><div></div><br /><div>After a two-day rest, I had to get back on a plane and head down to the International Association of Buddhist Studies in Atlanta for four days, and then finally got back for good.</div><div></div><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-7KOuoIGI/AAAAAAAAARY/xnJgNLwj9I4/s1600-h/riot4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224099877199814754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-7KOuoIGI/AAAAAAAAARY/xnJgNLwj9I4/s200/riot4.jpg" border="0" /></a>And then the riots hit Ulaanbaatar. On the night of the election, suppossedly driven by rumors of election <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-79QVFk9I/AAAAAAAAARw/2AXKEu6ahfE/s1600-h/riot.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224100753802892242" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-79QVFk9I/AAAAAAAAARw/2AXKEu6ahfE/s200/riot.bmp" border="0" /></a>fraud, folks burned down the headquarters of the MPRP (Mongolian People's Revolutionary Party, basically the Communist party which has pretty much held power since 1921, including in the non-Communist democratic Mongolia). People have <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-7gXOFdXI/AAAAAAAAARg/Q3uapYYnHXE/s1600-h/riot3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224100257436366194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-7gXOFdXI/AAAAAAAAARg/Q3uapYYnHXE/s200/riot3.jpg" border="0" /></a>blamed the Democrats, especially the former PM that I was drinking with on my last night in Mongolia!!! In any case, things seem to have quieted down almost immediately, with no <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-7s6vgAAI/AAAAAAAAARo/eJqCQ73cZZo/s1600-h/riot2.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224100473130188802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wc0neEuo8g0/SH-7s6vgAAI/AAAAAAAAARo/eJqCQ73cZZo/s200/riot2.bmp" border="0" /></a>lingering after-effects or continued violence. Here are some places that I go to for information: <a href="http://afp.google.com/article/ALeqM5hKe4LhXXcwou_A20rfic7togZTrw">http://afp.google.com/article/ALeqM5hKe4LhXXcwou_A20rfic7togZTrw</a>;</div><div><a href="http://mongolianstudies.blogspot.com/">http://mongolianstudies.blogspot.com/</a>; <a href="http://asiangypsy.blogspot.com/2008/07/mongolia-riots-state-of-emergency.html">http://asiangypsy.blogspot.com/2008/07/mongolia-riots-state-of-emergency.html</a>. All of these sites will get to other places as well. Finally, a fun blog run by a Western Buddhist living in Ulaanbaatar that was very informative when I met him is: <a href="http://danzanravjaa.typepad.com/my_weblog/">http://danzanravjaa.typepad.com/my_weblog/</a>. Especially interesting is his critiques of the new movie <em>Mongol</em>, and the many critical reviews that he points you to.</div><div></div><div></div><div>Alas.</div></div></div></div>Jamie Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05661597386351254293noreply@blogger.com0