— 9 Comments

The curse of the Asian Toilet

If you have ever traveled anywhere in Asia then you have certainly experienced the “curse of the Asian Toilet” before.  Otherwise known as the squat toilet, it can be a brutal and stinky affair, especially for women who do not have the biological convenience that men do (yes, God must truly be a man!).

I, myself, am well past any issues with the squat toilet.  After traveling for three weeks in Nepal (in which over half of it was in remote villages in the Himalayas) I got broken in rather quickly to the “do’s” and “don’ts” of squat toilet etiquette.  For example, Do carry toilet paper.  Do always have hand sanitizer available (since there is seldom anywhere to wash hands let alone find running water).  Do carry a flashlight.  And most important: Do cover your noise (don’t you dare breathe in through your nose!  Mouth breathing only) and Do, and I mean Do, try your best to not look down or spill.  This is tricky for a female who isn’t equip like a male.  But it is a reality that we must face especially when using a squat toilet!  You definitely don’t want any accidents when you are traveling all day long wearing the same pair of pants!

For me, going to China and dealing with the lack of the “western toilet” (as my beloved Nepali guide called it) was going to be nothing after three weeks of roughing it in Nepal. I’d seen plenty of bad, cold, smelly toilets.  After awhile it was determined that sometimes mother nature was best.

So, I thought amused that it was no big deal dealing with the Asian toilet situation during my travels.  I’d done it, I’d mastered it and best of all, the hotel would most likely have a western toilet (unlike in Nepal where I went three weeks without one).

What I found so incredibly fascinating in China was the controversy regarding the Asian toilet (especially before Beijing hosted the Olympics in 2008), the resulting growth of the public toilets (over 5,333 were added to prepare for the Olympics), the new rating star-standards of toilets, and last but not least, the hilarious commentary I saw about the wonder of the porcelain gods.  I couldn’t get enough of toilets during my trip!

Per an article I read on www.chinaview.cn hilariously titled, “Beijing’s toilet horrors flushed away“, here is an account of the improvements Beijing has made recently to the toilet situation in the city:

Strolling along Beijing’s Chang’an Avenue in May, Kevin Born was drawn to an ancient Chinese-style building with delicate wooden carvings and wash paintings — only to find it was a public toilet.

Inside, he found a granite floor, remote-sensor flushing, automatic hand drier and piped music. He found it difficult to believe that only three years ago when he first came to China, answering nature’s call was an experience not for the faint-hearted.

“You had to take a deep breath and dash into the toilet. You held your breath and your head high, and never looked down. Then you’d dash out quickly for another gasp of fresh air. All within 30 seconds,” recalls Kevin, 30, an engineer from Germany.

The city launched a three-year campaign — with a 400-million-yuan (57 million U.S. dollars) investment — to modernize its public toilets in 2005 as part of its effort to prepare for the 2008 Olympic Games.

With 1,000 new public toilets being built and renovated each year, the fetid back-street privies are being replaced with clean, well-maintained flush toilets.

Now, Beijing is flushed with pride that all the 5,333 public toilets, boasting standardized white male and female figure signs, are available within a five-minute walk of any downtown location.  In addition, there will be 700 toilets in Olympic venues by the time the Beijing Games start and an additional 800 nearby.

Now it is time for a few of my best toilet shots (no worries….they are all flushed) as well as another interesting article I found regarding the history of toilets in China (including the introduction of the star rating system) and the push of the Chinese Government to vamp up the number of public toilets in preparation for the Olympics.  Happy reading!  (And please….don’t read this post on the toilet!).

Worth a read:  “Beijing Toilets Go Upscale”

Inside our hotel lobby, we had nice clean western toilets.  Yet I could not stop laughing over this “lost in translation”!

One of thousands of new, convenient public toilets made available throughout Beijing in preparation for the 2008 Olympics.  It was fabulous having so many public toilets available!  Most were all the traditional squat toilet, however, they were clean, not sticky and readily available everywhere.  It made a day of sightseeing or an evening of drinking beer easy.  (Don’t you hate it when you are traveling and desperately need to use the bathroom but can’t find one anywhere?!  Not possible in Beijing, thanks to the thousands of newly minted public toilets).

More public toilets located in the famous Hutongs.  They even had sinks with working running water!  Some had toilet paper too….bonus!

See, they are now nice and clean!  Not the old nasty ones that left people ready to pass out.  Locals and tourists alike embraced the availability and cleanliness of the new toilets. 

Different styles of public toilets that were “stand-alones” and much nicer than our “Port-a-Pottys” back at home. 

I could not resist grabbing my camera and taking this picture of the sign in the bathroom at one of the restaurants we ate at in Beijing.  Too funny!

It was not posted once but twice!  Guess they meant business!

In Shanghai, I nearly fell off my (toilet) seat when I realized that (a) it was heated! (b) it had a “rear cleansing” option and (c) it had a dryer!  Now that is a little disturbing, isn’t it.  (No, I did not try any of these services). 

The toilet was constantly heated to a warm 90 degrees F.  Guess they want you to stay seated for a while and enjoy!  Ha!

Stay tuned…enough silly business.  I’m starting to remind myself of my kids and their non-stop adoration of “potty talk”!   Next post will be on Beijing’s fabulous Hutongs!  Thanks for reading!

Adventure Travel China TRAVEL BY REGION
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The World (aka China) according to Jackie

We met Jackie, our 26-year-old tour guide to the Great Wall, at our hotel lobby on Sunday morning.  Jackie was dressed in jeans, sneakers, a pink button down shirt and a pastel blue sweater vest.  Needless to say, he was dressed well but not appropriate for an all day hike along the Great Wall.

Above is a picture of Jackie, smiling as we literally “climbed” up to the Wall. 

Jackie (of course his “western” name; all Chinese pick western names when they start English in primary school) is a jovial, bright fellow who grew up in rural China, like the majority of the Chinese people, to farming, illiterate parents.  He has witnessed firsthand the dramatic changes that China has experienced over the last twenty-five years, while China has emerged as a leading economic powerhouse fighting for the center stage in the world order.

Per Jackie, there used to be only three colors worn in China:  Blue, Gray and Black.  Now the Chinese wear any color under the rainbow.

Jackie is a chatty, intelligent guy.  He had a lot to say about China – where it once was and where it is headed.  He talked the entire hour and a half ride to Jiantou, the entire climb up to the Wall (in between breaks) and the entire way back to Beijing.  I, of course, asked tons of questions and took tons of notes.  I found our conversation fascinating and it was great to get an inside view from a young, educated Beijing tour guide who has over ten years of experience and is quite knowledgable about what is happening now in China.

This post is a summary of the “World (aka China) according to Jackie”.  (Note:  I haven’t confirmed all the figures and statistics.  This kind of information is hard to get out of Communist, censored China.  I have discovered that many things are a mystery in China and it is hard to get accurate, hard data.  Thus, I am just going with what I heard from Jackie (whom I feel is an excellent, intelligent source of information) as well as some of the research I conducted myself (see below for links to the articles).  So, here goes nothing:  The World (aka China) according to Jackie!

Picture above of Confucius from the Wikipedia Commons.  Confucius was one of the greatest Chinese thinkers of all time.  His influence can still be felt today, thousands of years later.

Jackie had a lot of opinions on what China is like today, especially in Beijing, China’s political and historic capital.  For the most part, Jackie feels gratitude for how far China has come over the last twenty-five years.  China has literally taken most people, including the Chinese by surprise, in their unheard of industrialization and economic advances, which have brought millions and millions of people out of poverty.  China has industrialized in a matter of years compared with the centuries it has taken most countries in a similar situation.  When you visit China, the proof is in the endless amount of new buildings, apartment blocks and skyscrapers reaching for the stars.  It is said that the crane is the national bird of China.  The building crane is as well!

Yet, none of this rapid change has not been without problems and mistakes.  As most people know, China is still ruled by a dictatorship of hardliners that slam their iron fist down on many basic freedoms of their people.  While China is growing and expanding at insane rates, basic human rights and needs of its people are being left in the dust*.  Hospitals are old and dingy.  Doctors are scarce and expensive.  Social services are lacking.  Good education is hard to find in the countryside.  Good jobs for educated graduates are becoming harder to find.  Small and Medium sized factories are closing down at alarming rates.  Housing is becoming increasingly unaffordable.  Pollution is out of control.  Traffic is maddening.  Freedom of Speech is denied.  Speaking out against the government comes at a heavy price with imprisonment, financial difficulties and abandonment.  And the list goes on. 

With all these paradoxes and complexities, I found my conversation with Jackie to be incredibly interesting.  Here are some of the main points he raised:

Decrease in opportunities for new university graduates:

Last year, 6.6 million students graduated university in China.  Yet, over one million of them can’t find a good job.  Most are holding off and not accepting the lower-paid jobs in hopes that there will be a turnaround.  Jackie believes that China is good a “making” things (i.e factory level) yet not “creating” them.  I found this to be an interesting point and wonder what it will hold for the future.

Education:

Education is central to Chinese mentality.  Look at Confucius (551-479 BC) whose ideals were paramount in Chinese thinking for over 2,500 years.  Education became a priority in China yet was briefly and tragically interrupted during the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) which pushed everyone out to the countryside and created an entire decade of uneducated peasants.  Nowadays, all Chinese parents realize the importance of education and dream of giving their children a better life, out of poverty, through education.  Rural and urban parents alike strive to provide the best education possible for their children so they can head out to the big cities to find a better life.  If there are no good jobs to be had, this creates a big problem.

Pressure on the lower wage jobs:  Made in China to stay?

Everyone knows that almost everything these days are “Made in China“.  China’s enormous population has provided one of the greatest means to pull itself up out of poverty by its enormous labor force.  However, rising costs have been difficult on these very factories that provide low-paying, low-skilled jobs.  Many small to medium-sized factories are having a hard time competing and are forced to shut down, creating higher unemployment and unrest among many migrant workers.  **

Economists have differing opinions on what the future will hold for China and whether or not these low-paying, low-skill jobs will migrate elsewhere where the labor costs aren’t as high and the supply costs are lower.  Per the Financial Times article, “A workshop on the wane” (10/16/11):

 “Slowing global demand for cheap Chinese exports, rising production costs and unsustainable levels of debt have combined to crush some of the country’s most savvy entrepreneurs.  China’s economic success over the last 30 years has been built on cheap capital, cheap labour, cheap energy and cheap land but this has now produced huge imbalances and inefficiencies that are causing more and more problems.

But having drastically raised the living standards of almost a fifth of humanity, the formula is increasingly seen as defunct, and a contributor to serious problems including environmental degradation and rapidly rising social inequality.  Time is running out for a model that has served it so well. ….but this does not mean that the end is nigh for the world’s second-biggest economy”.

China needs to adjust and adapt its market, what it is doing.   Most economists predict a soft-landing for China, yet not without problems.

Housing :

As the economy has boomed and China has been seduced like others by an enormous gains in the real estate market, many argue that China is also facing a real estate bubble.  Per GMO***, “Property construction accounts for some 13% of GDP in the world’s second largest economy.  Construction has been one of the most important drivers of economic growth” (Jonathan Anderson, UBS, March 16, 2011).  Although it is hard to get a true and accurate picture of the Chinese real estate market since the government tends to hide unpleasant statistics, it is said that “there’s little doubt, however, that many Chinese feel they have been priced out of the property market.  A 100 square meter apartment in China currently costs around 17 times average disposable income, according to Deutsche Bank”.    I assume this must be what Jackie was referring to when he told us that the cost of apartments in Beijing has quadrupled since 2006.

Daily Life in Beijing becoming harder, more congested:

Jackie told us that China purchases 20 million cars and trucks per year.  There are currently about 20 million citizens and 10 million migrants living in Beijing.  There are 5 million cars.  Last year, there were 2,000 new cars added every day in Beijing.  Thankfully the government decided to put stricter controls on the huge increases in traffic and pollution.  Now if you want a new car, there is a lottery system.  This year there are 600 new cars added per day in Beijing.    Traffic is also controlled by the numbers on your license plate.

Marriage and Family:

The average age of marriage in urban China tends to be 30 years old for men and 27 for women.  In the countryside, it is generally around 20 years of age.  The year 1979 represented the start of China’s famous “One Child Policy” as a way to control China’s massive, growing population.  Over the last few years, the policy has changed a bit.  In the countryside, if the first-born is a boy then a family is done.  If the first child is a girl, then the family can try one more time for a boy.  In the city, a family can have two children now (if they pay) yet it is very expensive and most families today have only one child.

Social and Political Change:

This is a very tricky question.  While most Chinese are thrilled to have food on their plates, a job and a much better life than their parents, there are still huge inequalities and disparities among the people.  Like many other young people, Jackie shared the opinion that as long as people’s lives are improving that there will not be any major “Asian Spring” or push to oust the strong-armed Chinese rule.

As an American, I found this so hard to believe and tried my best to examine everything with my “thirdeye”.  I found China to be a confusing, frustrating yet fascinating place.  So much has changed.  Yet so much more needs to change.  I will be highly interested in seeing what the future holds for China and whether or not such a brutal government can remain in power.   It all remains to be seen, doesn’t it?

For further reading, please refer to the articles below which I used in my research: 

(Note:  The Financial Times online requires a free password.  Some require a paid password for the premium service.  I get the paper at home and only occasionally read it online.   If you want to access the free parts, it is definitely worth doing as these articles are excellent, and the FT is a fabulous paper to learn about what is going on in the world).

*”Cautious Beijing keen to avoid domestic unrest” – Financial Times 11/21/11 (click here for article)

**”A workshop on the wane” – Financial Times 10/16/11 (click here for link to article). 

***GMO “The Real Estate Cycle —September 2011.

Financial Times (print version):

“China labour costs soar as wages rise 22%”  – 10/25/11

“Reshoring jobs from China won’t happen” – 11/13/11

Plus, for a fabulous book that I am in the middle of reading about 1990’s China, “China Wakes: The Struggle for the Soul of a Rising Power by Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn“.

Stay tuned…..more China coming up!  I still have a ton of photos and stories to share!

CULTURE
— 18 Comments

Fall on the Great Wall: Part II The Climb Up

Author’s note: This is part two of three posts on my visit to China’s Great Wall.  To read my earlier post, click here.

The fog nestled tightly around the mountains above, giving off an eerie, surreal setting for undoubtably China’s most spectacular man-made wonder.  I was perplexed and felt rather naive in my earlier belief that the Great Wall of China was built on flat land.

“You mean to tell me that the wall is way up there, built along the ridge of the mountains and lost somewhere in the clouds?” I asked Jackie, craning my neck upwards trying to find the hidden landmark.

Jackie, our 26-year-old Beijing guide (who seemed a little bit lost himself) just shook his head and said “yes” with a sigh.  I wasn’t sure whether or not he understood how far and difficult the hike would be.   His clothing (i.e. dress slacks, button-down pink shirt, light blue sweater vest and sneakers) seemed to give him away.  He was not a hiker.  He was not even the least bit athletic.  But he was knowledgable and that was the most important thing of all.  He knew his stuff like the back of his hand.  Facts, figures and historical perspectives were easily given and recited to our thirsty ears.

Above is a picture of the second hill we had to cross in order to get to the main mountain leading up to the wall.  I tried my best to take a good pictures of the steepness of the trail (it is in brown leading up the center of the “hill”) but I found it impossible to do in a short amount of time.  We had a lot of work ahead of us so we had to keep moving!  Plus it was so steep that there weren’t many opportunities to safely stop. 

We reached the base of the second “hill” and began climbing up.  From this point on, it was no longer a hike at all.  Instead, it was going straight up using our fingers to grasp large rocks and tree branches to literally pull ourselves up.  I could tell my dad was getting a little nervous at this point.  Not at all for himself:  He had already climbed more mountains than I can remember (and he is 69 years old!).  He was worried about me and having to explain to my husband, children and mother how I fell and broke my back trying to climb up to the Great Wall.  That wouldn’t do!

I could tell that Jackie was lagging behind yet he was desperately trying to be the good Chinese leader and guide that he aspired.  His face was drenched in sweat, his pastel blue sweater vest was placed into his backpack after much convincing and he continually questioned our age.  “You’re in your mid-twenties, right” he asked, almost desperately.   He seemed completely mystified that my father at his age was having no problem at all climbing up the side of a dirty mountain.  Jackie believed most Chinese men at his age would be withering away in bed!

“Ah, you Amercains are strong.  So very strong!” he raved, encouragingly and slightly embarrassed by being passed by two people well over his age.  “Us Chinese are not strong” he said, convinced in his belief that Chinese people are not athletes.

I found Jackie’s viewpoint and ongoing compliments to be hilarious!  Weren’t it the Chinese people who made this very same wall by climbing up these very same steep paths over 2,000 years ago with stones on their back?!   Perhaps it was just him who was out of shape!

Jackie in the lead, waiting up above as we pried our hands and fingers into the dirt and grabbed rocks to pull ourselves up the trail.

Looking down at my dad as he climbed up the trail.  Now, who told us we were doing “rock” climbing?  That definitely wasn’t in Lonely Planet’s description!!!!

Picture above of last hill leading up to the Great Wall.

We finally made it to the top of the second hill, feeling tired and a bit weary.  It was extremely steep at the top with sheer cliffs tumbling down below.  There was a wee bit of panic and emergency when I realized during our water break that we were surrounded by bees!  I am somewhat fearful of bees because I am allergic and of course had no epi-pen with me!  I had a brief dancing panic on the top of the mountain and my dad nearly had a heart attack that I would fall.  We abruptly climbed down the peak and headed up the third, and last mountain to reach the wall.  No wonder there was no one else on the trail!  You would have to be crazy! 

Here is my dad making it down a very steep part of the “trail”.  Are we insane?

By the third hill, we were feeling relieved to be passed the worst, or so we’d hoped.  We now had to climb down the valley between the two mountains and it was VERY steep.  Even I was a little worried about breaking a leg.  I’d broken my foot before it was the pits.  (I was in a boot for five months and had a baby and a toddler to care for!).

It was getting close to noon and there was still no sign of the wall.  The smog had not lifted as we had hoped.  Jackie looked like he was going to pass out during the last thirty minutes of the hike.  His face was the color of cotton candy and dripping with sweat while his breathing was like a smokers’.  He was also still wearing that darn pink button-down shirt over a t-shirt!  Why he didn’t take it off during one of his many breaks, I don’t understand.

Finally, my dad and I had to pass him by.  We knew that the hike had taken a lot longer than we’d planned and if we wanted to have any time hiking on the wall itself, that there was no time to stop.  Jackie haphazardly gave in to our pleas and followed slowly up behind us.  The hike wasn’t really that challenging given other hikes we’d taken (such as our 100-mile hike last year in Nepal).  But the conditions were prime for an accident.

We walked on for another ten minutes or so, feeling like we were on a path to nowhere, and then just like a dream, we finally saw it.   There, laying precariously atop of the ridge of the mountain, was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen:  The mighty, impressive Great Wall of China.

The Great Wall of China at Jiankou, one of the relatively unknown sections of the wall that is not frequently visited by tourists, mainly due to its isolated location.  The only way to get there is to hike. 

At Jiankou, there are three routes up to the wall and we took the longest and hardest route.  Yet, once we arrived I realized with joy and elation that the best part of seeing the wall was the journey itself, climbing up just like the Chinese did thousands of years ago. 

For as Chairman Mao said:  “He who has not climbed the Great Wall is not a true man” (or woman in my case!).

Me, taking the final steps up on the ladder to the wall.  What a feeling of accomplishment to be here!  

View on top the wall.  It was so startling and impressive that I could hardly breathe.  I only wished the clouds would have been gone.  To see the wall snake around the mountain ridge until the eye can no longer see would have been sensational.

We did it!  My dad and I on top the Wall!

Stay tuned…part III of “Fall on the Wall” will be up soon.  I will show you favorite pictures from the wall as well as provide some insight into what I learned about its magical creation.  Plus you’ll get a sneak preview of what it was like to be a “movie star” surrounded by Chinese paparazzi for my moment of fame and attention as a thirdeyemom blond on top the wall. 

Adventure Travel China TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
— 13 Comments

East versus West: My first bout with Chinese culture shock

Culture shock (noun):

a sense of confusion, discomfort, disorientation, and uncertainty felt by those exposed to a different cultural environment.

Even the statues have a third-eye….yet where was mine?

I woke up Saturday morning feeling foggy and confused.  Where am I again? I wondered half-awake.  Somehow or another, I managed to get four and half hours of alcohol-induced sleep yet my body was still terribly confused.  For it was 8 pm Friday night back home in Minneapolis and 8 am in Beijing.   I told myself that I just had to get through the first day as it is always the hardest.  Jet lag sucks.

I took a shower, and peered out the window of our hotel room.  Life outside was full of activity and noise.  Yet the sky looked like dirty water after washing the floor.  It was flat, gray, thick and dark.  Hmmm….was that what everyone said about Chinese pollution?  My mind returned back to last year’s trip to India and I realized without a doubt, yep here we go again.  Prepare myself to not see the real color of the sky or sun for the next ten days unless there is a magical lifting of the thick blanket of smog. That was my first experience with culture shock number 1.  Pollution.

The pesky, loud birds being sold directly across the street outside my hotel. 

I headed downstairs for breakfast.  Our hotel offered a splendid buffet included in the cost of our room.  I was actually hungry as it was dinner time for me.  I waltzed into the dining area, made myself my own personal espresso and then took a look around to investigate the offerings.  That was culture shock number 2 (it wasn’t even 9 o’clock yet!).  The food.

Don’t worry…this wasn’t our hotel buffet.  It was some of the street food sold directly outside our hotel every night. Here are legs and sometimes foots of pig.

Ok, I understood that I was in China and was prepared with the unfortunate knowledge that Chinese food is the one and only kind of food I cannot stand.  Yet I was hoping that perhaps Chinese food would be different in China, maybe even better.  Not the American over-greasy, over-fried and over-MSGed grub.  Well, it was different that is for sure.  But in my American eyes, it was shockingly different.  There were fish with heads on, friend rice for breakfast, and God knows what in the silver heated buffet trays.  I took in a whiff and suddenly felt sick.  How in the heck am I going to manage here?  Yet thank goodness I found the Western breakfast nearby.  You could get a prepared omelette or eggs by the egg chef or as much bread, jam and cheese as your heart desired.  They even had corn flakes!  So instead of diving into the fried rice or raw fish for breakfast, I went for what my body knows.  My third-eye was suddenly disappearing.

View of our soviet-exterior styled hotel (which was actually a highly rated and fabulous hotel) from across the street.  Look at the pollution in the air.

We left the hotel by 10 am to start our day exploring Beijing.  We didn’t really have a game plan for the first day since we knew we would be so tired.  Our only plan was to walk until we drop.  As we opened the door and headed out into the bustling streets of Beijing, I was hit with culture shock number 3.  The people.  We were instantly surrounded by black-haired Chinese people everywhere we turned.  As an American, I am so used to the diversity of people even in Minnesota that I found the sea of black-headed people all dressed in black, gray and blue to be a big shock.  Where were the Somalis, the Mexicans, the blonds, the red-heads, the African-Americans?  No where in sight.  It felt incredibly awkward to be two relatively tall Scandinavian looking Minnesotans in the heart of Beijing, a city of over 20 million people with one of the highest population densities of people per square foot in the world.

As we walked down Donghuamen Street, the main thoroughfare leading directly to Tian’anmen Square and the Forbidden City, I was suddenly struck with severe culture shock.  My mind started racing with doubts about coming here and I had to stop myself for a moment and remember the golden rule about culture shock.

That it happens.  It is nature.  You need to face it, deal with it, accept it, and then move on.  Culture shock is actually a process and depending on how different the host culture is compared with your culture, it is going to depend on how well and how fast you adapt.  For example, there is less culture shock traveling to a western country than an eastern one.

I knew I was extremely tired, jet-lagged and overwhelmed with my new environment.  I just had to remember to use that third-eye of mine and then everything would be fine.  The first day is always the hardest.

We had lunch at a recommended restaurant nearby our hotel.  We were the only Westerners inside but thankfully we didn’t get too many looks and felt perfectly comfortable.  I ordered cashew chicken and my dad decoded on some kind of spicy beef thing.  Beijing (also known as Peking) is famous for their Peking duck.  It is a specialty that we were told is a “must have” when you visit Beijing.  I enjoy duck so I thought I’d maybe give it a try.

I then instantly changed my mind once I saw it.   There it was, head and all, browned to a crisp and dripping with juices.  The sight of a dead, baked, not headless duck made my stomach churn.   The chef pushed the dead-baked-duck over to the next table, where he carved it tableside for the ravenous guests and then I watched how Peking duck is eaten.  Basically you take a slab of crispy fatty skin and use it as a tortilla adding vegetables and other delights inside, roll it up and enjoy.  I decided to change my mind about trying Peking duck.

My relatively tame lunch….yet where was the rice?

The now headless Peking duck….

Our lunch was good yet my body was not ready to handle such different foods.  As a preventative, I popped two pink Pepto tablets to line my stomach and keep in from harm.  Unfortunately I’ve gotten sick way too many times on past travels so I decided to be extra careful on this trip.  No lettuce, no raw veggies, no tap water and definitely no street food.

After lunch we walked over the Beijing’s premier walking street, Wangfujing, to check things out.  Once again, I was instantly inundated with culture shock.  The street food was repulsive (third-eye, where art thou?), the bright neon flashing lights too obnoxious and the floods of people everywhere, too overbearing.  We didn’t last long yet I managed to snap a ton of photos.  I couldn’t find a better way than pictures to express my serious dilemma with culture shock.

Wangfujing Walking and Shopping Street during the day.

Live Scorpions on a stick, anyone?  They are fried and eaten for special luck.

By four o’clock, we were completely wiped out.  Our feet throbbed, our brains ached and we felt a little disoriented.  It was time to have happy hour and take a few moments to decompress before heading out on our next adventure, dinner.

For such a big city, we hadn’t managed to scope out a dining choice for the night during our marathon, sightseeing walk.  Thus we had to go to Plan B:  Refer to my invaluable Lonely Planet guidebook.  Page 80 of Lonely Planet China highlighted a section of town called “Ghost Street”, a “don’t miss!” place.  The description is:

“Hopping at weekends and one of Beijing’s busiest and most colourful restaurant strips at virtually any hour.  Ghost Street is the nickname for this spirited section of Dongzhimennei Dajie, where scores of restaurants converge to feed legions of locals and out-of-towners.  Splendidly lit with red lanterns from dusk til dawn…”

After hearing the words “scores of restaurants” and “splendidly lit with red lanterns” I was in.  Yet little did I know this misadventure would only lead to furthering culture shock.

First of all, getting the correct translation of the words “Ghost Street” into Chinese took much time and many differing opinions.  The Chinese language is a complex creature and trying to convey the “correct” meaning is tricky.  Needless to say, we got it figured out after fifteen minutes and multiple disagreements among hotel staff.

Second of all, getting a cab in Beijing is no easy feat.  After many attempts to score a cab that would actually take us there, we finally just opened the door, jumped in, closed the door and then handed the cab driver the instructions “Take me to…” in Chinese.  This way there was no denying us.

Third of all, we got there an hour later thank planned, not the promised ten minute drive. The cab driver decided to take us on a little tour of Beijing so he could add on to the time.  Of course we couldn’t communicate with him and had to just sit and wait.  The fare ended up only being a few dollars so no real harm down.  But still!.

Ghost street at night.

Finally, once we arrived it was a complete red lantern, Chinese restaurant galore filled with mobs of people.  Talk about cultural overload!  Finally after walking block after block loaded with Chinese restaurants, defeated we opted on the only presentable choice:  Some kind of fancier-looking venue that had an over-the-top Charlie Trotter meets Jackie Chan menu.  It was gourmet Chinese to the extreme and there was hardly anything on the menu that I could possibly stomach to eat.  Thankfully almost everything in China is relatively cheap and after an incredibly spicy Sichuan pork dinner with chilis to kill, we were only out about $50.

My spicy, hot dinner again where was the rice?  I could have used some to cool things down. 

Ahhh….my mouth is on fire but I’m still smiling!

Exhausted, we literally jumped in a cab using the close-the-door approach, and headed back wearily to our hotel.  What a day of extremes!  My only hope was that my increasingly important third-eye would decide to show up soon and rescue me from the extreme, intense culture shock I was experiencing.

Stay tuned…next post will be a day of photographs:  First day in Beijing. I took too many pictures to put in this post and too many great ones that must be shared! 

Adventure Travel China TRAVEL BY REGION
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China…uncensored

I landed in China after a thirteen hour non-stop flight from Chicago feeling elated, excited, tired and uncertain about what to expect.  I had been to Asia before with a visit last year to India and Nepal and trip to Japan years ago.  I’ve found these countries fascinating yet for some reason I was unsure what my expectations would be of China.  I had heard a lot about it.  Both good and bad.  It was time for me to judge for myself.

Of course I knew there would be tons of amazing history and culture to see.  Not many other places in the world can boast about having a 5,000 year-old civilization.  Yet I also knew it would be crowded, polluted, controlled, different, and perhaps confusing giving the huge paradox between the old and the new.

As I got off the plane and entered Beijing’s new Terminal 3, one of the largest terminals in the world that was completed just before the 2008 Olympics, my eyes widened.  It was so huge, so modern, and so clean.  This couldn’t be China, could it?

Photo taken just past midnight at Beijing International Airport’s Terminal 3. 

We retrieved our luggage, and wearily followed the clearly marked signs in English pointing to the taxi line.  Then, all hell broke loose.  As we stood there, waiting patiently in line, there was a mad dash of black-haired Chinese pushing past us and jumping into cabs haphazardly.  It was organized chaos.  It was so uncivilized.  It was China.

We arrived at our hotel well past one am, in a trance-like mood after so much travel.  I hardly noticed the row after row of street food canteens lining the brightly light streets.  Instead, what I noticed was the Soviet-looking appearance of our Trip Advisor rated hotel.  The outside was just plain old ugly.  Yet the inside was surprisingly nice.

We checked in to silence.  No one was around except a few late night stragglers coming back drunk, commenting on how wonderful the Beijing nightlife was.  The room was more than adequate (much nicer than the outside of the building) and since we were going on a twelve-hour time difference there was no way I could fall asleep.  It was 1 am yet my body was telling me it was noon.

My plan of attacking jet leg was to have a few glasses of wine, stay up for a while and then try to sleep four to five hours if possible.  It has worked before so I was hoping it would work this time.

I went down to the lobby to check my emails and enter my first blog post when I had my first real dose of serious culture shock.  I entered www.wordpress.com and nothing happened.  Hmmm.  I was tired but I couldn’t quite understand why on earth it wasn’t working.  I next went to my email and tried reading some of my fellow blog posts.  I could read the emailed short version but then when I clicked on the link to read more, it went blank.  Frustrated, I decided to try going on my Facebook page to send out a message to my friends that I had arrived and was here.  No dice.  It went blank.

It took me a day until it finally hit me that these sites as well as other social networking and media sites are blocked in China.  I couldn’t believe it.  I guess when I look back, it all makes sense to me and I should have known that this would be the case.  I know that China’s government censors all its media including the internet.  Yet for some reason I was completely taken aback.

I’ve heard stories off CNN being cut off right in the middle of a program.  Words being mysteriously erased from Obama’s speeches.  I’ve heard about the jailed and imprisoned writers, journalists and human rights activists who tried to speak their mind.  Yet I was absolutely stunned by the level of censorship on the big wide web.  How in the heck do they do it?

A timely November 7, 2011 article in the Financial Times claimed that:

“The heads of China’s leading information technology companies have pledged to censor internet content more strictly as the Communist party tries to tame the country’s boisterous online media”.

“While the Communist party regards the internet as making a positive contribution to economic development, it runs a vast censorship machine to ensure that online information does not challenge its grip of power”.

For a country that is advancing at lightning speed, with its 1.3 billion people wanting more and more a piece of the economic pie, I find this situation to be completely mind-boggling.   As an American, I’m used to being able to say or do what I want.  I had never realized how much I’d taken this liberty for granted until I was in a place where freedom of speech was gone.

Another big surprise was how incredibly slow the internet is in China.  Whenever you do a search, the internet runs at a snail’s speed to find or not find the answer.  I could just picture the giant censorship apparatus at work.  How do do it?

With anything illegal, of course there are ways around it.  Censorship can become uncensored.  You can use a proxy service to sneak into blogging sites or Facebook, if you like.  Likewise, many times things written in English from foreign sources are not censored (yet the Chinese versions are).  An American businessman I met traveling in China told me he could access Facebook only on his Blackberry.  And China does have their own Chinese versions of Facebook and Twitter-like tools which are in demand and growing.  Yet it leads me to wonder how long this can really go on.  The estimated 500 million internet users in China only continue to grow, as does the breadth of the wild wild web.

Will censorship be possible forever?

Stay tuned…next will be Day 1 Culture Shock galore! 

China TRAVEL BY REGION
— 11 Comments

How technology has changed the art of travel

As I pack for my upcoming trip to China (countdown: 2 days until departure), there is something new that I’ll be bringing along with me on my trip.  It sits there discreetly and unaware.  It is small and shiny yet one of the most life-changing hand-sized objects I now possess:  My shiny new iPhone 4S.

I held off as long as I could on buying a smartphone.  I have a cellphone and only got the texting feature on it a year before.  I found that texting was an easier way to bug my busy husband with a quick question at work.  I didn’t get a smartphone for two reasons.  First, I am a stay-at-home mom who does not work.  Thus why on earth would I ever need one except for my new passion with blogging.  Second, I didn’t want to become one of those people (if you are one of those people, I do apologize!); those internet/text/cellphone obsessed people who are practically glued to their phone, constantly texting, checking emails, and surfing the net while talking to someone else face to face!  I have been in those situations before, as the ignored friend, while I’m trying to have a conversation and the person I’m with isn’t really listening.  How can you listen and read emails at the same time?  Quite frankly, my social life isn’t all that exciting, earth-shattering and time-consuming.  I know I’m old-fashioned but I’d rather just pick up the phone instead of use Facebook or texting.  Thus for these two main reasons, plus not to mention the added expense of having a fancy gadget, I held off for as long as I could without being tempted into getting a smartphone.

With the release of the new iPhone 4S, however, I changed my mind and finally gave in to temptation.  For this tiny handheld object will enable me to connect to the internet and call, text, or write home for free from anywhere in the world.  All I will need is a WiFi connection and I’m set.  No more phone cards or dirty old phone booths.  No more trying to call ten times a day in hope that they’ll be home an answer my call.  None.  Instead, this stay-at-home mom who needs to man the fort even from thousands of miles away can do so at the touch of my fingers.  I can call my home to check in on the kids.  I can be reachable in case of a question or a problem.  No more stressing.  No more waiting.  No more wasting time.  I’ll be able to call and be in touch!

It is hard to fathom what life was like before the internet.  How on earth did we survive?  As someone who grew up in the eighties, in an era or shall I say life before the internet, it continues to amaze me each and every day how much technology has changed the world and my life.  When I was a teenager, we had to call someone on the phone if we wanted to chat.  We had to go to the library and search through books and clumsy old microfiche for our research papers.  We had to read books.  It was all so different.

When I went to college in the early nineties, not much had changed.  The internet was still not in existence.  How terrible it was to type up my ten to twenty page papers on a word processor and have to white out each mistake or simply start all over again?  How depressing was it to spend hours on end in the dull, quiet library searching through book after book in order to research papers.  Every time you needed information, it took time to get it.  Information was not at the tip of your fingers like it is today.

In 1993, I spent nine months living abroad in France without the internet.  The Minitel was around (the French early version of the internet) yet the world-wide web did not exist.  I felt like that entire nine months was a vacuum, an abyss, and an absence of contact with my friends and family at home.  To talk on the phone, I would call and hope someone was home.  I could only call every two weeks and talk for a short time because it simply was way too expensive.  Thus, I reserved phone calls for only my immediate family and sent those cumbersome, blue-colored Aérogramme (handwritten letters, glued together letters) to my friends back home.  Of course it took weeks to arrive and weeks for a response.  I felt completely isolated from my life back home and that unfortunately added to my homesickness.

By 1994, at my first job out of college I finally got a company-only email system at work.  Email and the internet still was a mystery and I didn’t have a personal computer either (yes, not having a personal computer nowadays is unheard of but back then computers were more of a luxury than commonplace).  By 1995 at my next job in Chicago, just as the internet was commercialized for public use, I got a better email system and the rest is history.  The internet craze began.  The dot.coms, the lush stock options, you name it, it was happening…until the crash.  Yet, the internet still survived and thrived, and has continued to change the world and people’s lives each and every day.  I know that it has certainly changed mine.

Last April, I went to Morocco with my iPad, installed Skype and called home for free.  It was the first time ever that I was able to call home not using a phone card or being in a phone booth, while traveling abroad.  It felt like a dream.  It was wonderful.

Here is a picture of me inside one of those dirty, old phone booths somewhere in South America (thanks Dad for always taking these pictures of me calling home.  I always got mad but he made a point!)

As time went by, phone cards became easier than using the good old phone shops.  But they didn’t always work and the phone itself was always sticky:

Fast forward to just last November 2010, and here I am in the middle of the Himalayas at God knows what altitude or where, making a call directly to my home in Minnesota from our guide’s cellphone.  I talked for ten minutes and it only cost a couple of bucks.  Unbelievable!  In a country where people average less than $2 a day, they all have cellphones as it is the only means to keep in touch in the mountains.

I can’t believe how much technology has changed our lives and in particular traveling.  The world is getting smaller and smaller as we grow together and not apart.  It is a beautiful thing.  Yet something to also be prudent of.  I never want to let technology take over my life and be glued 24/7 to my phone.  Knowing myself, I won’t be.

But who would have thought twenty years ago that this would all be possible? 

TRAVEL BY REGION
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How Nepal Changed Me

Note: This post first appeared in the Elephant Journal.  It is a cummulation of my story of how I became the thirdeyemom, why I started this blog, what inspired me to make a difference in my life and others and why I began fundraising for Nepal. The link to the original post is here:  Nepal was utterly amazing.  How it changed me forever.

I am also going to include a copy of the post here.  My trip to Nepal and my recent efforts at fundraising have made a huge impact on my life.  It is a way to change the dynamic of being a simple traveler to being a compassionate human being who gives back to the community visited.  I strongly believe that travel is a gift.  It is important to give in return.  Without further delay, here is my story.

How Nepal Changed Me

By thirdeyemom

Nepal was utterly amazing. The trek was arduous, humbling and long.  We hiked over 100 miles doing on average 4-8 hours of strenuous hiking a day at altitudes up to almost 18,000 feet.  But what amazed me most was the magical culture and people that I found in Nepal.

 
Thorong-La Pass Nepal

Photo of my dad and me at 6:30 am summit of the highest point of our Annapurna trek, Thorong-La Pass at 17,769 feet.

“Coffee. Tea” the flight attendant asked wearily. “I’ll take a coffee with sugar, please” I responded half-awake yet with a smile.  We were two hours short of our 15-hour non-stop flight from Chicago to Delhi and I could hardly believe we were almost there.  I had seen the sun set and rise and set again all within that time and needless to say, my body was confused.   I had no idea how I’d manage to go to bed that night.  It was 8 PM in India but my body was still on Minneapolis time, a bright and early 8 AM.  It was going to be interesting. 

As we made our final descent through the thick, dark blanket of pollution that covered Delhi I couldn’t help but think about why I was here and where I was headed:  To Nepal to hike the mighty Himalayas with my beloved dad.   How on earth did I come so far with such a grandiose plan for a vacation?  Even I, a stay-at-home mom of two young children, couldn’t believe it was real.

My father and I have been traveling partners all my life.  What started out as numerous family vacations throughout my childhood lead to annual vacations with just my dad to destinations around the world.  Over the past ten years, we hiked Machu Picchu in Peru, dived in Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, hiked in Patagonia twice, played golf in Ireland, went skiing in Italy and France, and went on a safari in South Africa.   My friends thought I was crazy.  But I felt invigorated and alive.

Nepal was one of those elusive, mystical places in the back of our minds that we had dreamed of visiting one day.  It had everything we wanted in a travel destination:  Majestic scenery, world-class hiking, unbelievable mountains, and a diverse and fascinating culture.  Yet it was impossibly far away and would require a fair amount of time to see.  We also had no idea how safe or doable it was to hike.  When thinking about Nepal, my mind easily crept to those crazy, over the top athletes who climb Mount Everest.  I thought there was probably more tame hiking adventures but didn’t truly know.  Thus as an actual travel destination, Nepal remained a very distant possibility.  Perhaps someday we would go there.

Pokhara Nepal

Little did I know it would be sooner than I ever imagined.  My dad and I had just returned from a spectacular hiking trip in Patagonia, Argentina where we had first caught wind of the real possibility of trekking the Himalayas in Nepal.  During our trip to Patagonia, we had met an exciting couple from England who were in their sixties and had just completed the world-famous Annapurna trek the year before.   My father and I listened in awe and fascination as they explained their trip and we were instantly hooked.  It sounded like the trip of a lifetime that we could easily accomplish physically.  Yet we just had to figure out how we could manage such a long trip.  My children were only three and five years old and we would need at least two to three weeks.  I wasn’t sure my mother or husband would be willing to babysit the children for that long.  Thus once again, the thought of going to Nepal was placed on the back burner.

Almost like a sign of fate, my dad happened to see an article in the New York Times on March 10, 2010 called “Hiking the Annapurna Trek Before the Road Takes Over”.  Basically what the article said was that this world-renowned hike was going to be ruined within a matter of years by the building of a dirty, dusty road that would tear through idyllic villages and pristine nature and open this once hidden, mystical land to jeep, car, and bus traffic.  That was all we needed to hear and it was soon decided that the time to go was now.  We gingerly presented our idea to both my husband and mom who surprisingly were in full support of our plan and gave us the green light to start planning.  We were thrilled.

 
Annapurna Trail Nepal

Me and my dad at the start of the trail.

A village along the Annapurna Trek in Nepal

The start of the Annapurna trail is gravel now. Yet not for much longer as a road is in the process of being built from the start of the trail all the way to Manang which currently takes eight days to reach by foot.

The New York Times article recommended two trekking companies.  We sent query letters and received a reply almost immediately from Earthbound Expeditions, a locally owned and run outfitter in Nepal.  We received a custom itinerary that perfectly met our needs and time constraints, and had amazingly prompt replies to all my crazy questions such as the safety records of internal flights in the mountains to the availability of calling home while on the trail.  I was amazed and impressed by the high level of personal attention and service given by Earthbound’s owner, Rajan.  This kind of service has long disappeared from most American travel companies. We booked the trip for the end of October 2010 for a 17-day journey that inspired and excited me beyond my expectations.

The desire to give something back

Before leaving for Nepal, I made a decision that I no longer wanted to be simply a tourist that visited a country, enriched myself in all its culture and beauty, and left nothing in return, no gift behind. My new way of thinking all began on a recent trip I made which was different from anything else I’d ever done: A volunteer trip to work in Costa Rica.  Although I was only there for one week, the impact volunteering made on my life and the people I helped during that short time led me to believe strongly that we must give back.  Travel is a gift and it is important to give in return.

I wracked my brain for different ways I could raise money. I knew that I wanted to donate money to a non-profit organization that focuses on education in Nepal. After reading several inspirational books on education in poverty-stricken lands, I knew that this was the area to attack.  I searched Lonely Planet who has an excellent listing of non-profit organizations as well as volunteer opportunities, and found just the organization I was looking for:  READ Nepal.

READ Nepal is part of READ Global:
“READ Global pioneered the concept of sustainability as an international development organization dedicated to combining education and private enterprise to make rural communities viable places to learn, build, and prosper. READ partners with rural communities to create, sustain and grow projects in a manner that is politically and culturally appropriate. READ has helped establish forty nine Community Library and Resource Centers paired with for-profit enterprises throughout Nepal and India that serve over a half million people annually and has also recently opened up a center in Bhutan”.
Nepalese children headed to school

Nepalese children dressed proudly in their school uniforms waved as we passed them by.

Finding the right organization was the easy part. The hard part was figuring out how a stay-at-home mom could raise the money.  I didn’t want to ask for donations from friends and families.  Instead, I wanted to earn the money and somehow involve my children in the process so they could learn the importance of giving back.

That was where creative thinking came into play.  It was summer in Minnesota, a time to be outdoors, out of our long winter’s hibernation, and back into the world again enjoying our 10,000+ lakes, beautiful parks and nature.  Initially, I set a small goal of raising a couple hundred dollars for my cause.   But as time went by, I realized it was possible to do more.  I just had to be creative!  I set my first goal at $500 and used traditional American-style activities to raise the money.  In June, I ran a co-op “babysitting fundraiser” at my house on Friday mornings.  Each Friday I babysat up to ten kids in exchange for a small donation.  Although it was incredibly exhausting, it was a terrific success.   In July, my children and I ran a car wash and lemonade stand to raise money for Read Nepal.  Once again, I was pleasantly surprised by the generosity of my friends and neighbors who contributed donations.   Finally, in early September my family and I held our first annual yard sale in the name of charity.    Through these efforts, my initial goal of $500 suddenly amassed to $2,000 and I was ecstatic!   The $2,000 raised was matched by my husband’s employer, bringing the total donation to READ Nepal up to $4,000.  Just like that a small idea ended up being a big help. The funds were donated a week before I boarded the plane to Kathmandu.

READ Nepal was delighted with the donation and informed me that the money would be more than enough to open up an entire library and reading center in rural Nepal.  They were beyond thrilled and continually showered me with compliments and called me “their little Angel”.  I was so shocked to receive such immense gratitude for what I thought was a small amount in the grand scheme of things.  Yet it made me realize how much ANYTHING can do to help, especially in this economic climate. It just goes to show how far your money can go in a third world country. The gift was given and I realized that it is the things you do for others in life that makes you feel the best.

Nepali girls

Photo of three Nepali girls dressed in their finest clothing in honor of the Festival of Lights, one of the biggest holidays in Nepal. The girls went from table to table, singing and dancing and then asking for a small donation to help pay for school.

Why the third-eye?
As a world-traveler I was completely unprepared for what I would see in India.  Complete and utter chaos, poverty and pollution beyond anything I’d ever seen before in any of my travels.  My heart sank.  The cultural shock of India hit me like a punch.  I was blown away and honestly, a bit afraid.
Delhi Street Photography

View of one of many slums in Delhi.

Delhi Street Photography

Many unpaved streets

Delhi Street Photography

Women living on the streets outside the US Embassy

We arrived at our hotel, thankfully without hitting someone or something in the chaotic lines that made up the roads and I took a deep breath and sigh of relief.  I had heard that India was a little chaotic yet what I had just seen stirred up some serious culture shock in my normally open mind.  That was when I met the owner of the hotel and he told me the most important thing I’d ever learned about traveling and culture shock:  The importance of having and maintaining the third eye.

In the Hindu and Buddhist religions, the third eye is a symbol of enlightenment and wisdom and is commonly seen in Indian and East Asian countries represented by a dot, eye or mark on the forehead of deities or “enlightened beings”.

I received my third eye in a timely manner.  Right after we entered the hotel, we were welcomed with a traditional marigold necklace and the third eye dotted on our foreheads to remind us that we needed to see India with an open mind.  This idea stuck with me throughout the trip and was probably the best advice I could have ever received.  It was so powerful that I decided that it would become the name for my new blog as it incorporated all my ideas about how I wanted to see the world and how I wanted to communicate my travel experiences with others.  For travel is definitely an enormous learning adventure and when visiting other cultures, especially ones that are so incredibly different than your own, you must keep a third eye.  Otherwise you would miss out on seeing what travel is really about: seeing and learning how other people around the world live, thinking about what you’ve learned, formatting opinions on it, and most importantly, sharing this knowledge with others.  If you don’t have a third eye, what could you possibly learn?

Me after I received my marigold necklace and the third eye.

Me after I received my marigold necklace and the third eye.

The trip of a Lifetime

Nepal was utterly amazing. The trek was arduous, humbling and long.  We hiked over 100 miles doing on average 4-8 hours of strenuous hiking a day at altitudes up to almost 18,000 feet.  But what amazed me most was the magical culture and people that I found in Nepal.  It is one of the world’s poorest countries in which over 80% of the population is rural and the majority of people survive on less than $2 a day, not even a cup of coffee in the US.  Yet, the rich culture and traditions of the people rose above the impoverished conditions that most villagers live in.

Leaving Kathmandu

Leaving Kathmandu and heading to the mountains.

Kathmandu Valley

The beautiful rice terraces and lush green Kathmandu Valley.

Manang Nepal

My first sight of a fresh coat of snow over the Annapurnas in Manang took my breath away.

Villages along the Annapurna Trek

Along the Annapurna trail, you walk through many villages and are greeted by the rural Nepalese, goat herders, chicken sellers, mule trains, and yaks.

Annapurna Trek Nepal

The Buddhist influence greets you at each village as you pass by Buddhist prayer flags, temples, prayer wheels and the smell of burning juniper.

Temples in Nepal Annapurna

The Buddhist influence.

P1020085

Monk in Manang Nepal

Being blessed by a 94-year-old monk who lives in a cave monastery at 13,000 feet near Manang.

After completing the trek, I realized why it is called one of the best treks in the world because no other trail has such magnificent scenery and fascinating culture.  No other trek I’ve done has ever gone directly through villages and has allowed me to walk side by side villages doing their daily business.  We passed goat herders, mule trains, men carrying 20 chickens on their backs in a wire cage doing his sales rounds, happy children dressed in their worn school uniforms, Buddhist temples, shrines and prayer wheels and prayer flags.  It felt like being on another planet.  And that is what brings me back to why Nepal changed my life.

It is possible to make a difference:  Little things can have big results

As our jet plane took off for home and climbed five thousand, ten thousand and then eighteen thousand feet, I realized in awe that only a few days ago I had been at almost the same altitude as the plane.  It was a wild thought; almost a little frightening.

Annapurna Trek Nepal

Our porter Chhring, me, our guide Hari and my dad in Manang, where the road will end. We shared many wonderful days together talking, laughing and sharing our cultures.

Annapurna Trek Nepal

Where it all began….

As I looked down, I was finally was able to conceptualize how high 18,000 feet truly is. The buildings became smaller and smaller, the cars like ants lining the roads. The vastness of the green, voluptuous rice fields stacked one on top of the other, bursting in color and life. Then, for the last time, I saw the godlike, mighty Himalayas, strikingly beautiful, like a mirage of flying towers soaring upwards into the heavens of the sky. I found it hard to believe that I was really here and had really been there.  It was all like a dream.

Nepal was one of those eye-opening moments in my life in which I realized not only how blessed we are to live in a free, prosperous country (where we have the pleasure of the “western toilet, clean streets without piles of garbage, education, opportunity and space), but how important it is for us as privileged people to give back.   Visiting Nepal struck a chord in my heart and made me realize how impoverished these wonderfully, peaceful and loving villagers are.  Over 80% of Nepalese live in rural areas that have little or no access to education.  I believe strongly that education is the key to a better future and a better life.  From that trip on, I was determined to change my life and figure out a way to keep giving back.

Young Nepali girl

This young Nepali girl made me smile.

Almost as if an act of fate, I somehow or another found a way to follow my dreams and continue my work fundraising for education in Nepal.  As we were leaving Kathmandu, Rajan, the owner of Earthbound Expeditions, our trekking company, gave me his card and mentioned some of the social work he is involved with in Nepal.  On the back of the card was the small, grass-roots NGO called HANDS in Nepal.  As soon as I got home, I contacted them.  It was the perfect fit and my charity work continued.

Over the last six months, I have raised money to help HANDS in Nepal a small grass-roots organization created by a young American Danny Chaffin.  HANDS in Nepal’s mission is to create educational opportunities and community development programs in rural Nepal by building schools, donating educational supplies, teacher’s salaries, and student scholarships.  I have done most of my fundraising work through the sale of beautiful, homemade Nepali goods such as pashmina scarves, yak-hair blankets, and purses and bags. Since May, I’ve sold over $4,000 of my Nepali wares and over half of that profit goes back to HANDS in Nepal (after taking in account the cost of the products, shipping and customs).  It has been a win-win opportunity as the sale of the products not only benefit HANDS in Nepal but also the rural, poor Nepalese people who are making and supplies these little treasures for me to sell.

I have also used my second annual yard sale as a way to raise money for HANDS in Nepal.  After scraping together all my old clothing and miscellaneous items that we no longer need, I was able to raise $540 for HANDS in Nepal.

Perhaps $540 sounds like nothing. Yet, it does make a difference. What does $540 do in Nepal?  This money can buy:

A composition notebook and pencil for 540 children.

-or-

Two school workbooks and a composition notebook for 108 children.

-or-

A school uniform and backpack for 54 children.

-or-

Chalkboard and teacher supplies for 10 classrooms.

-or-

A book set for 27 classrooms.

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Bench seating and work tables for 27 classrooms (approximately 40 children per room)

-or-

Almost enough for one teacher’s salary for an entire year.

-or-

A combination of some of the above items.

In a country where 82% live in rural communities and have little or no access to education, and the average daily salary is less than $2 a day, this small amount of money goes a long way in fighting poverty and helping educate Nepal’s future generation. With a literacy rate of barely over 50%, there is a long way to go. However, it is my belief that every effort, no matter how small, can help make the world a better place.

There is something so special and magical about giving back that just makes me feel complete and my hope is that I can eventually reach the $8,000 mark to build a new school in rural Nepal and have a lasting impact on an entire village and generation of people. It will take time of course to raise the money but with the help of my friends, family and children as well I plan to achieve it!

Photo above of Jan and her son Danny along with the children of the new school made possible by HANDS in Nepal. 
Adventure Travel Nepal Trekking/Hiking Volunteering Abroad
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Remembering September 11th

September 11, 2001. A day we will always remember. A day that we will never forget. A day that changed our world as we know it. A day that made our lives never the same.

“First Pass, Defenders Over Washington” by Rick Herter.  The painting depicts Capt. Dean Eckmann in his F-16, as he was the first to arrive at the Pentagon.

A copy of this print is hanging in my sister’s Virginia home in honor of her husband who was one of the three pilots. 

Every American remembers where they were and what they were doing on that tragically fateful day.  It was a brilliant blue September day in Minnesota without a cloud in the sky.   Postcard perfect with a light breeze and a high in the love 70s.

A beautiful blue sky, September day that changed our lives forever.

It was past eight here in Minneapolis and I driving to work.  I had the radio on and was singing along to my favorite songs when a strange interruption broke me out of my reverie.  The DJ broke off the song, and life as I knew it changed forever.

Like everyone, I had no idea what on earth he was talking about.  There was so much confusion and chaos as the terrifying events of September 11th began to unfold.  All I heard was that some kind of “small plane” hit the World Trade Center.  There was no more news at the time.  I dialed my husband who was already at work to ask him if he heard. He didn’t know much more than me.  It wasn’t until I arrived at my office in Eagan, located directly across the Minneapolis-St. Paul International airport, that I would see for myself live on TV, the horror that was unfolding this nightmarish day.

I walked across the parking lot with a pit in my stomach and shortness of breath, took the elevator up to the cafeteria and there right before my eyes live on CNN I saw the plane smash like a giant fireball into the World Trade Center.  Without further thought, I turned on my heals, in absolute shock, and returned to my car where I called my husband and proceeded directly home in fear, completely unable to cry.

For the next two days, work was canceled (my husband’s downtown office was evacuated) while my husband and I sat terrified, motionless, and utterly glued to CNN as the events of 9/11 unraveled and the further confusion, chaos and attempted analysis went on.   The normally busy sky above the lake and our house was eerily quiet:  There were no planes for days as the entire nation’s airports system came to a startling halt.

Everyone was home and glued to TV.  It was the most horrifying, frightening time of my life and to this day, I can never rid myself of the infamous image of the plane slamming into the World Trade Center.  As much as I try to want to forget.  I’ll always remember.  The fruitless, tragic loss of innocent lives can not be forgotten or forsaken. The two wars that our country entered as a result of 9/11 and the war against terror can not be erased.  Our world as we know it will never be the same.  We will never feel safe.

Everyone has a story to tell that day.

My Mother was waiting in the Tucson, Arizona airport heading out to Virginia to visit my sister when she saw the first plane replayed across the TV.  The entire airport went into shock as the events unfolded right before their eyes.   Of course, knowing my mom was flying that day, I went into panic wondering if she was in the air.  With all the chaos, confusion and uncertainty, no one knew how many planes were going to go down.  By the time I finally reached her, she was hysterical but safe, waiting amidst the confusion at the airport.  Finally her flight was canceled and she went home, like me, in horror and confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening.  Life many others, she ended up packing her car and making the four-day journey across the country to reach my sister in Virginia, who was also in the heart of the situation.

My sister’s husband, Captain Craig Borgstrom,  was one of the few men that actually saw 9/11 from the air.  However, not in a commercial airline but in a fighter jet.  As a Captain with the Happy Hooligans, the Fargo North Dakota National Guard Unit that was based at Langley Air Force base in Virginia, he was one of three pilots that was called into a scramble into the air in a race to save the doomed jet headed to the Pentagon.  He arrived just after the jet crashed into the Pentagon looking down to see the terrifying, hellish fire burning at one of our nation’s most important buildings.  Had he been a few moments earlier, he would have been faced with the orders to possibly have to shot down a passenger jet, an act that surely would have remained within his soul for the rest of his life.

Needless to say, my sister was panicking not knowing where her husband was and whether or not he was safe.  Little did she know he would be one of the many 9/11 heroes (see article below from AIRMAN).

My husband and my father were preparing to depart on a week-long trip to Scotland.  Their flight was scheduled to depart a couple of days later and unfortunately the trip never happened.  Yet if it had, they probably would have been stuck there for days waiting out the reopening of the world’s airports.

I was scheduled to fly to Chicago on 9/13 where my office was based and I had a series of client meetings set up for the week.  Unable to fly, I packed up my car and made the seven hour drive from Minneapolis to Chicago, listening to NPR the entire way and watching the incredible display of patriotism across the roads as cars and buses drove by with flags and sayings printed across their windows.  Since no one could fly, the roads were packed and instead of the normal honking, rude driving and insanity, for once it seemed as if everyone had pulled together.  An accepted, unspoken calm and cooperation was felt wherever you went.

After those fateful days of confusion, chaos, horror and anger, we were finally faced with the long road to acceptance, recovery and redemption.  Slowly the planes began to fly and life kind of moved towards normalcy.  Yet every time I entered the airport to board a plane, it was obvious how much had changed.  How much we lost.  How the world would never ever be the same again.

Ten years later the memories remain as painful as ever.  Everyone seems to know someone who was lost in 9/11 or its aftermath.  Will the world ever forget?  Or do we even want to?  No.

My thoughts and prayers are with the many people who lost the ones they love in and as a result of 9/11.  May we always remember!  And let freedom ring.

—————————————————————-

Article below from AIRMAN

http://airman.dodlive.mil/washington%E2%80%99s-defenders/

Pilots saw unique view of Pentagon burning – from 1,000 feet above
Story by Randy Roughton

Photo above of Captain Dean Eckmann

Fifty to 60 miles from Washington, the sky was so clear that 9/11 morning the F-16 Fighting Falcon pilots could see almost everything.

“It was almost like a North Dakota day,” Col. Brad Derrig said.

That morning, Derrig, then a major, and Capt. Craig Borgstrom were flying behind Capt. Dean Eckmann and were scrambled over Washington in response to the 9/11 attacks. All three fly with the “Happy Hooligans” in the North Dakota Air National Guard’s 178th Fighter Squadron, which stationed pilots at an alert detachment at Langley Air Force Base, Va. At that time, the detachment was one of North American Aerospace Defense Command’s seven alert sites designed to protect the nation against an attack.

As he approached the city, Eckmann saw black smoke rising above the Potomac River. But because the smoke was blowing his direction, he couldn’t see exactly where the fire was. He didn’t know it was at the Pentagon, where American Airlines Flight 77 crashed at 9:40 a.m., killing about 180 people, not including the hijackers. Before long, Eckmann would be looking back at his F-16’s missiles and wondering if he would be firing them sometime that day.

“Normally, in cities when you see smoke, it’s going to be gray or white – industrial-type smoke,” said Eckmann, who is now a lieutenant colonel with the Fargo-based squadron.

“From my years of experience in the military, black smoke is bad because it usually means fuel or explosives are burning.”

The detachment squadron was scheduled to fly a sortie against a couple of other Langley F-15 Eagles on 9/11. It was a typical alert, with the pilots mainly trying to be airborne with a less than five-minute notice. Derrig wasn’t scheduled to fly at all, although he was trying to work his way into the training sortie.

A klaxon horn sounded to let the pilots know they were on battle stations, so Eckmann and Derrig headed to their planes. The lights in the hangar changed from yellow to green to let them know of the scramble order at 9:24 a.m.

Borgstrom, the squadron’s director of operations at the time, ran to Eckmann’s plane as he was awaiting the scramble order and said he was supposed to fly as the third pilot. This surprised the other two pilots because in a scramble order for the detachment’s two F-16s, Borgstrom would serve as the supervisor of flying and would be responsible for keeping the pilots informed on the mission. With him in the air, there would be no operations officer left at the detachment. Eckmann directed Borgstrom to the detachment’s third F-16, which was unarmed because it wasn’t on alert status with the other two planes.

“Normally, the East Coast is filled with airplanes, big and small, on a daily basis. Flying that afternoon, the only airplanes that were up were basically military fighters and tankers. It was almost eerie, how quiet it was.”

The tower controller gave the order from the Northeast Air Defense Sector for the pilots to fly east for 60 miles, and the three F-16s took off 15 seconds apart by 9:30. As they flew, one of Eckmann’s wingmen learned their new coordinates, which meant they were headed to Baltimore.

“What it meant was we pretty much have priority over everyone, and civilian air controllers need to move people out of our way,” Eckmann said. “That was my first indication something serious was happening.”

Soon they were given new coordinates – to set up a combat air patrol over Reagan National. They set up the patrol over Washington by 9:45, and air traffic controllers notified Eckmann about a “couple of unknowns heading north on the Potomac River toward the White House.” From 25,000 feet, Eckmann headed straight to the aircraft, but quickly learned they were just a military and police helicopter headed to the Pentagon to assist.

Before long, Borgstrom relayed a NEADS message to Eckmann that the formation was directed to provide a battle damage assessment of the Pentagon. Earlier, Eckmann was suspecting a cruise missile attack from Russia, which had a long-range aviation exercise scheduled that week. Now he began thinking it was a truck bomb, similar to the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City that killed 168 people in 1995. Because of all of the smoke, it wasn’t until he was 1,000 feet directly above the Pentagon that Eckmann could see the building sustained a direct hit.

“We saw something that day that very few saw from the air,” Eckmann said. “That’s because once that happened, [the Federal Aviation Administration] shut down the airspace, and we were the only ones airborne.”

After flying over the Pentagon, Eckmann reported to NEADS that the building’s two outer rings were damaged in the attack. When asked his opinion of what happened, his best guess at the time was a large tanker truck because of the amount of flames and smoke. The pilots wouldn’t learn it was an airliner until after they landed back at Langley that afternoon.

They spent the next five hours intercepting unidentified aircraft above Washington. To intercept, the F-16 pilot approaches the suspect plane on the left wing since the captain on an airliner normally sits on that side. He makes visual contact with the pilot and gives him signals, then flies by and rocks the wing to signify for him to follow.

At one point, when Eckmann was on the radio with civilian air controllers at the Federal Aviation Administration’s Washington Center, Secret Service agents asked to speak to him. He received a short message: “We need you to protect the House.”

“I’m assuming that means the White House,” Eckmann said.

About 45 minutes after they set up the combat air patrol, Derrig saw a second view of the Pentagon on fire when he escorted a Lear jet carrying Attorney General John Ashcroft into Reagan National after the FAA had shut down all civilian air traffic nationwide.

“I had to fly over the Pentagon at a relatively low altitude, and I could see people on the ground working,” Derrig said. “Once I got back into the [combat air patrol], it was a sense of ‘All right. Now, we’ve got to protect these people.’ Our focus was on future attacks if future attacks were planned.”

Eventually, the pilots worked with F-16s from Andrews Air Force Base, Md., which set up a low combat air patrol over the city while the Langley formation maintained the high patrol. The normally crowded East Coast skies were uncharacteristically quiet, Derrig remembers.

“Normally, the East Coast is filled with airplanes, big and small, on a daily basis,” he said. “Flying that afternoon, the only airplanes that were up were basically military fighters and tankers. It was almost eerie, how quiet it was.

“When Andrews [Air Traffic Control] put out the statement that any aircraft into Andrews Class B air space will be shot down, I was thinking we’ve got the missiles. It wasn’t like we were out on a combat air patrol over Iraq or somewhere in Europe – it was within the United States. So that was kind of a gut-puller for me.”

The combat air patrol operation Eckmann and his wingmen started on 9/11 continued until the following April, when they went to more of a scramble and peak type of patrol, he said. When the morning began, seven sites were on alert with 14 airplanes, as there had been since NORAD reduced the number of alert sites in 1994. By nightfall, there were 40 to 50 sites with 200 planes, Eckmann said.

In a day filled with sights and sounds they thought they would never experience in their own country, one more remained when the pilots returned to their squadron.

“I remember I landed at Langley and taxied by the three squadrons of Eagles, and they were arming every flying F-15 on that base,” Eckmann said. “I’ve never seen so many missiles in one spot being put on airplanes. They were putting eight missiles on each F-15 at Langley. That’s another sight you just don’t forget.”

As Eckmann reflects on the 10-year anniversary of 9/11, the memories of the images he saw from his F-16 in a day that began with such a clear sky remain fresh and painful.

“Has it been 10 years already? For me, it will always seem like it wasn’t that long ago. I’ll have those pictures burned in my mind until the day I die – seeing the Pentagon burning from the air when I flew over it, and you knew people were dead inside, and people were suffering,” he said.

“Ten years later, we are still fighting the global war on terrorism. For me, it’s very personal that not only 3,000 people died in New York, but also approximately 180 people died right beneath me. I think about that often.”

Global Issues Humanitarian SOCIAL GOOD
— 11 Comments

An unexpected trip to the land Down Under

My trip to Patagonia back in November 2003 had been a eye-opening, soul-searching adventure of a lifetime.  I had been in perhaps the most stressful, worst job ever so getting away from the hell I was in at the time, to such a magical place, felt like a boulder had been lifted off my chest.  I could breathe again.  I could relax.  I could enjoy life.  I could be me.

But then as they always say in life, all good things must come to an end.  I had to go home and back to that god awful job that caused me so much pain and distress.  I was trapped in an incredibly unhappy, miserable situation in which I drove home from work each day in tears.  Yet there was no way that I could quit, or so I believed.  I didn’t want that unfortunate mark on my resume nor on the career ladder I was trying to climb.   I felt trapped.  Chained.  Stuck.  And miserable.

How could I go back to that hell?  Too much had changed during that week in Patagonia.  I realized that it simply wasn’t worth it.  You’ve got one shot at life, so why not give it your best?  Nothing, and I mean nothing is more important than happiness.  I needed to leave that awful, unkind, brutal place and be somewhere completely different where I was treated with kindness, respect and where I felt free.  I needed a new beginning and oddly enough, I believe it was fate.  I got just that opportunity.

Less than 24 hours after I was home, the mysterious acts of fate rang at my door.  On my first day back to work, by noon I was laid off.  Just like that, my life had changed.  I could not believe my good fortune (for in my eyes being laid off was easier to explain to a future employer than quitting).  I felt like it was a sign from above, a voice inside my heart and soul telling me that I was free.  It truly was an act of fate.

Looking back now, almost eight years later I realize that it was one of the best things that could have happened to me at the time.  For sometimes in life, it takes hardship, struggle and unhappiness to truly realize what is the most important to you.  Thus this period of my life greatly encouraged me to examine my life more deeply and figure out after ten years out of college, what I truly wanted out of my life.  It was not climbing the corporate ladder, making a lot of money or having a fancy title.  It was life itself which meant enjoying it and having a family.

Two weeks after I got laid off from my job, my dad and decided to take a trip.  Instead of looking at the negative aspect of being laid off (i.e. not having any money, needing to find a new job, etc) I looked at the positive.  I was free!  For a travel addict who never ceases to stop wanting to wonder the world, being unemployed offered me an opportunity to take another trip.  Thus in early December, a month after returning from Patagonia I found myself on board a Qantas airplane en route to Australia, the land Down Under.

We were fortunate to find an excellent deal with Qantas airlines.  For $2,200 we received an international flight to/from Australia, plus three internal flights and hotels in three cities.  We would have a two-week trip with four days in Sydney, Melbourne and Cairns to see the Great Barrier Reef.  I couldn’t wait!

We left for Sydney on December 2nd.  I flew from Minneapolis to LA and arrived around 4:30 PM, early for our 10:30 PM flight.  This ended up being a fortunate thing as I was able to score the emergency exit row all the way to Sydney.  That meant 14 hours of extra leg room!

The flight was uneventful and I managed to sleep six hours thanks to the extra leg room.  Before I knew it, the crew was serving breakfast and we were almost there!  I was so excited.  I’ve always wanted to go to Australia.  I went to New Zealand the previous year and had fallen in love with it promising to someday venture a little further west to make it to Australia.  And here I was!

We landed around 9 am in Sydney, feeling extremely disoriented after the 19 hours of flying (the most I’d ever done at that point) yet thrilled to finally be getting off the plane.  The next three days proved to be exactly how I’d imagined:  Wonderful!

We spent the next few days checking out beautiful Sydney, a fabulous, hip, urban city that is so insanely lovely I thought I could easily live there.  We went to both Bondi and Manly Beach, saw a ballet at the Sydney Opera, took a train to the Blue Mountains, walked and shopped til we dropped, and ate splendidly.  Sydney was definitely how our guide book described it:  Sophisticated.  Sexy.  Laid Back and cosmopolitan.  Plus the people were so beautiful yet not artificial or rude.  The city was full of eye candy, that is for sure.

We spent three fabulous days in Sydney before it was time to hit the Great Barrier Reef.  I instantly fell in love with the city and can’t wait to someday go back.

Here are some pictures of my time in Sydney:

Leaving on Qantas dec. 2-16 2003….landing in Sydney on the big boy

Lovely flowers in The Royal Botanical Gardens…so refreshing for me in the dead of winter!

Hyde Park

Views of downtown Sydney

Bats swarm the trees in the downtown Botanical Gardens…eerie!

A nice walking path along the harbour…oh I could so live here! 

Views of the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge

The Harbour Bridge…no, I did not climb it (you can, if you are nuts!)

They say that the best way to see the city is by water so that is exactly what we did. We hopped a ferry and went to spend the afternoon in Manly, a beachside neighborhood. The views from the ferry were spectacular and breath-taking. Sydney is definitely a city that utilizes its waterfront. There are restaurants and bars all along the harbor. What a city!

Catching a ferry to Manly

The Beautiful Sydney Harbour

Sydney’s famous landmark, the Opera house, up close.

The Sydney skyline

We arrived in Manly in the early afternoon and were fascinated by the beach culture of Australia. Everyone from small children to seniors, were decked out in their speedos. Of course, everyone is as fit as can be. More eye candy awaited.

Manly

Manly Beach</em>: I could stay here all day!

Unfortunately our picture perfect weather began to disappear and the clouds moved in. We had to head back to Sydney as it wasn’t a good day for the beach.

The Storm Moving in

After an absolutely delightful dinner looking out the restaurant windows at the famous white sails of Sydney’s Opera House, it was time to go to sleep. We were exhausted but looking forward to our next day.

Day 2 in Sydney ended up being a rainy start. We already had plans to play golf at the Long Reef Golf course outside of Sydney. We took an hour long cab there, began to play and were soaked to the bone in heavy rain. It wasn’t fun but we had to at least play the first nine holes since we couldn’t get our money back at that point.

A rainy day for golf

Thankfully the weather cleared up by early afternoon, so we were able to make a trip over to the world famous Bondi Beach. I had heard that it was a “must see”.

Trip to bondi beach

An open water swim race at the beach.

The clouds were still heavy which was too bad because I really wanted to seat myself at one of the many hip outdoor bars and drink a bottle of wine. Oh well. It just wasn’t in the cards. The weather unfortunately was not cooperating. So when all else fails, what do we do? Eat and drink!

We had another gourmet meal in Sydney and drank our small worries about the weather away. We hoped tomorrow would be better since it was my birthday and we were planning to take the train to the Blue Mountains for a hike in the rainforest. I crossed my fingers when I went to sleep.

Adventure Travel Australasia Australia TRAVEL TRAVEL BY REGION
— 2 Comments

The Greatest Gift of All

It’s been a long, exhausting, unrelenting week. Our harsh, brutal winter has continued to hang around, bringing bouts of cold wind, rain, and even a few miscellaneous snowflakes. The barren trees have yet to bloom. Yet there are signs of life’s rebirth and rejuvenation. The birds are back. I hear them singing their beautiful, glorious, celebratory songs outside my bedroom window every morning at dawn. The light of the sun, when it does break free out from the clouds, feels different than before. It is more alive and brighter and when it does appear, it warms my soul and brings life to the world. We are still in that strange, confusing phase where spring is playing tricks on us. One minute, it is there in all its glory, sun shining, birds singing and buds blooming before your very eyes. Then the next minute, it disappears, behind the gray, dark clouds and rain thirsty land.

As a stay at home mom of two extremely active and busy kids (aged 4 and 6), it is actually ironic that I have even noticed that it is almost Mother’s Day and the leaves have yet to bloom. Where on earth do I have the time to sit and ponder about the absence of spring and wonder when it will every arrive? Furthermore, how can I actually sit here and daydream about the great joys and revitalization that spring brings to us hearty Minnesotans each year. Easy! I’m a stay at home mom, meaning I am in my house or out and about each and every day of my life, facing the elements and watching nature change before my eyes. It would be impossible to miss. Yet for some funny reason I seemed to miss spring every season when I worked. I seemed to miss a lot of things that I took for granted when I worked.

As Mother’s Day approaches, of course everyone asks “What are you doing for Mother’s Day”? “Are you doing anything special”? “What do you want to get?”. For me I don’t want a trip to the spa (but of course that sounds phenomenal!), or a huge brunch at a fancy restaurant or some kind of beautifully wrapped present. At almost forty, it is easy to see that I have the greatest gift of all. The best thing possible. I have my kids. (Yes of course my husband counts too…without him, we wouldn’t have our close, tight-knit family of four).

Somehow we survived the brutal Minnesota winter with over 82 inches of snow….but we had fun!

There are days (sometimes many) when I am at my wits end, pulling my hair out, stepping outside the door and swearing beneath my breath. There are days when I can not take the crying, complaining, fighting, demanding behavior of my children. There are even days when I run upstairs and hide, lock myself in my closet and burst into enormous, sobbing tears. But every single one of those days pales in comparison to the last six and a half years of my life that I have spent loving, laughing, cherishing and spending time with my kids. Yes, giving up jobs and careers is a huge sacrifice for many families. Some families can afford it but choose not to. Other families dream that a parent could stay home with the kids, but simply can’t. There is no right or wrong. There should be no judgement either.

I am just utterly blessed for these special, precious moments that I’ve had with my children at home, watching them grow and learn about the world with excitement and hope. When asked what you wish your child could be or have when he or she grows up, my reply is simple: I want them to be happy, productive, self-sufficient, loving adults who care about others and contribute to the world. I don’t need a doctor or lawyer (yes of course it would be nice but I am not the one to decide or demand their future profession). I need a child who cares and can make a difference in the world or brighten the day of someone less fortunate than themselves.

All my travels have taught me that we live a crazy, insane life in the United States. Although there is plenty of poverty, violence and drugs abound, there is also enormous possibilities and potential. Unlike Nepal or India where people can barely make ends meet and live on less than $2 a day, most Americans are truly deeply spoiled. My dream is that my children can understand how fortunate they are and use this knowledge to make the world a better place, one step at a time. Perhaps I have too lofty of goals but that is what parenthood is about: Inspiring your children to dream big.

Happy Mother’s Day, all you Mom’s out there!

CULTURE
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Moroccan cooking 101: How to make tagine

Anyone who has ever traveled to Southern Spain, Turkey, North Africa or Middle East knows that the food is quite magical. Food from these regions generally contain an array of fresh spices abound in flavor such as saffron, cumin, ginger, paprika, black pepper, cinnamon, mint and garlic. Mouthwatering fresh fruits such figs, dates, oranges and pomegranates can often be found added to freshly prepared tagines and couscous. Delectable olives, delightful almonds and mouth-burning harissa (a capsicum-pepper sauce which I adore) make any meal legendary.

The warm, gentle climate of Morocco provides an abundance of fresh vegetables as well (such as pepper, beans, tomatoes, artichokes, eggplants, onions, beets and pumpkins) which are common side and main dishes throughout Morocco. Being a world cuisine lover, I found Morocco to be a culinary paradise and was not once the slightest bit disappointed in the fantastic, fresh, exciting and worldly food I found.

My first night in Morocco was spent at a gorgeous Riad (see earlier posts) which served my first true Moroccan tagine, the famous Moroccan stews containing chicken or lamb with an assortment of fresh vegetables and spices that are cooked in a conical earthenware pot creating a lovely, tender and moist stew. I chose the chicken tagine with almonds and lemon over my beloved couscous (a type of semolina, small circular rice that is also served usually with a stew). After eating detestable plane food for the last twenty-four hours, my first Moroccan meal felt like heaven. I was also surprised to learn that Morocco, an Islamic country (over 99% Muslim) produces fantastic local wine. I ordered a half-bottle of Moroccan red which was delicious: Full-bodied, bright, with a smooth finish. I went to sleep after hours of travel feeling happy and full, anxiously anticipating my next Moroccan meal.

My visit through the local souq showed me exactly where these fresh, delightful ingredients come from. Vendor after vendor sold spices in all colors and flavors by the bag, and olives, nuts, figs, dates and fresh vegetables were at each and every corner of the market. I could have spent hours and dirhams passing through the souq and sampling up everything they had to offer. No wonder why Moroccans are such good cooks! In fact, each region and every city is known for its unique dishes and influences. This is probably not a surprise given that the distinctive flavors of Moroccan cooking come from a variety of origins such as Portuguese, Jewish, Spain, Persia, Senegal, France, Berber North Africa, Italy and Turkey—all countries that have ties to Morocco.

Some of my favorite market delights:

The couscous:

The dates and figs:

My week-long stay at the CCS Home Base in Hay Riad, Rabat, was another week of culinary delight. For an entire week, we had breakfast, lunch and dinner prepared by two native Berber cooks and we ate like kings and queens. Here are some pictures of our meals:

Lunch:

This gorgeous dish is called a bastilla. It is a multilayered pastry made out of phyllo dough and filled with a crushed mixture of toasted almonds, ground chicken, cheese and spices. Finally, it is topped with a dollop of cinnamon to give it a dessert like taste and appearance. It takes hours to prepare and looks were by no means deceiving….It was incredible!!!!

Here is a photo of the nummy inside:

Another favorite meal we had was the long-awaited Moroccan couscous, a quasi-religious experience in Morocco and what also just so happened to be one of my all time favorite meals thanks to that year spent living in France. Apparently the preparation of couscous takes an entire day and usually is made to feed an army thus it was usually made for the volunteers on the last day of the week’s stay: Friday. Here are some pictures of this amazing meal:

Our fantastic chefs preparing the couscous:

A close-up view of the finished product;

Ready to eat!

One of the highlights of my week stay in Morocco was our two-hour cooking class held by CCS at the Home Base. We learned how to make two main staples of Moroccan life: Moroccan Mint Teat and Chicken Tagine.

Throughout Morocco, mint tea is a way and tradition of life. Moroccans, like many others around Asia and parts of Africa, love their tea and tea time is a sacred time in Morocco that cannot be denied. Usually tea time happens in the late afternoon from 4-6 PM however tea time can happen anytime in Morocco, and to be invited to tea is a big honor.

Throughout the day, we could see Moroccans have traditional tea in the medina, in the souq, in the CCS Home Base and at our volunteer placements. Outdoor cafes serve tea as well however it usually isn’t the labor and love-intensive home-made Moroccan Green Mint Tea.

One afternoon at CCS, we learned how to make this Moroccan treasure. Here is how it is done:

Traditional Moroccan Mint Tea

preparation time: 20-30 minutes

Boil Water on the stove

When boiling, pour the hot water into the tea pot, rinse and dump out. This warms up the pot.

Add two tablespoons of Green tea into the hot pot.

Pour a cup of hot water into the pot and let stand for one to two minutes.

Don’t shake the mixture, and pour it out into a cup. This is the soul of the tea.

Add another cup of hot water to the tea pot and shake.

Pour the contents into another cup. You will notice that the tea is a different color (this is because the tea leaves open and may have some dust or dirt on them, so you shake the leaves to get rid of the “bad stuff”). You take all the poured cup(s) of this tea and dump it out into the sink.

Next, you go back to “the soul of the tea” which is the spare, original tea that was not mixed and poured into a reserve cup. You pour the cup of tea into the teapot and fill with more water, leaving some space on top for the fresh mint and basil. Bring to a boil.

After boiling, you add a handful of fresh mint and basil, then add a lot (Moroccans like their mint tea very sweet!) of sugar, perhaps 4-5 larges tablespoons.

To mix, pour the cups into tea glasses and then pour the contents once again back into the tea pot. You do this 4-5 times (no joke!).

Finally, the tea is ready to serve. You pour the finished product into glasses (not mugs) as the Moroccans prefer and get ready to sweeten up your mouth! Enjoy!

Voila!

———————–

Chicken Tagine with lemon

Preparation time: 1-1.5 hours

Note: It is best to have a traditional tagine earthenware pot to make this but I am sure you can improvise with a large saucepan and tight-fitting lid (yet may want to leave a crack open while it is cooking).

Here is a picture of a tagine:

Heat the tagine on the stove (i.e. the clay pot or else a large saucepan)
Add 4 tablespoons of oil and heat
Add 1/2 teaspoon of salt along with 8 pieces of chicken parts (@ a whole chicken).
Cook on medium high

Chop a fist-full of fresh cilantro along with two to three cloves of fresh garlic.

Flip the meat (continue on medium high)

Chop one white onion.

Add the below ingredients to the tagine and the after adding, flip the meat:
1 heaping teaspoon of fresh grated ginger
1 heaping teaspoon of cumin
1/4 teaspoon of black pepper
1 teaspoon of saffron
1 tablespoon of the cilantro/garlic mix
1/2 of the chopped onion

Flip the food and then add the other half of chopped onion on top of the tagine ingredients (you want one half of the onion to cook underneath the meat).

Add one preserved lemon*.

Add another heaping tablespoon of the cilantro and garlic mix.

Last step: Add one cup of water to the mixture; cover the tagine and let boil. Then turn to low heat and simmer for 45 minutes. ENJOY!!!!!

*You can either buy preserved lemon or make it yourself. To make it yourself: Cut one lemon into fourths. Add salt into each lemon section. Preserve pieces of lemon in a closed jar for two weeks at room temperature and shake every other day. When ready, take seeds out and place small pieces with rinds inside the tagine.

The finished product:

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I was so impressed with my newfound knowledge and with the delicious taste of the tagine, that I actually went on a mission to buy a real clay tagine the day before leaving Morocco. I have no idea what on earth I was thinking. Tagines are fragile and cumbersome. Not something you want to try to carry back on multiple international flights. But I was a woman on a mission. I had to have one!

With little time left in Morocco, I opted to hit the nearest shopping mall, a place called Margene, which unbelievably enough contained what I call a Moroccan version of Costco warehouse. I walked in and the place was packed with local Moroccans going about their shopping. There I was, of course the only blond-haired woman, searching for deals and salivating once I found them. I found my tagine, for $15 as well as a boatload of Moroccan spices such as cumin, ginger, saffron, etc. All for the meager price of $1 per enormous year-long-lasting bag! I stocked up knowing that even Target charges the outrageous price of $10 for a tiny bottle of two-use saffron. If I could have filled my entire suitcase with spices, I’m sure I would have done it (yet I probably also would have (a) smelled up my suitcase to beyond repair (b) got busted at customs for it.

Anyway, I had loads of fun at the Moroccan Costco and successfully managed to get all my beloved spices and the tagine home safe and sound. Now, if I can only find the time to actually make a tagine or even more so, one that is edible! I’m sure my husband and friends would be impressed! 🙂

Here is a photo of my Moroccan Costco:

The cumbersome to carry purchase:

Our final Moroccan Cooking 101 experiment was to make those delicious deadly pastries: Phyllo dough, filled with either the crushed almond, cheese, chicken mixture OR carrots, garlic and cheese, OR feta cheese and spinach mixture.

Here are some pictures of our group learning the drill:

Preparing the “stuff’ to stuff the phyllo. Here is the carrot mixture sautéing in oil and butter of course:

More ingredients to stuff your phyllo (the crushed almond, cheese and chicken mix):

Stuffing and rolling the phyllo before it is either baked or fried:

In the meantime, for those readers who I’ve made really hungry, here are some recommended Moroccan Cooking sites found in my copy of Lonely Planet Morocco:

This site offers a compilation of different recipes and sites. It also has great information on Morocco:

http://www.al-bab.com/maroc/food.htm

Here is another one with over 370 recipes….alas…if only I had the time!

http://www.astray.com/recipes/?search=moroccan

Finally, if all else fails….find a good local Moroccan restaurant and eat without the work!


Coming Next…..I want to wrap up my week in Morocco with a post on my visit to the ruins and one on Morocco today. Stay posted!

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