Study tour BLOG

[Rob_Hugo@PortNW]

Hi everyone,

During the April weekend orientation, you signed up to complete blog assignments for the study tour. Attached please find the assignment sheet indicating the day you are responsible for chronicling our daily activities.

As we mentioned, you will not be required to upload your entry immediately, but you will be expected to do so before July 25, the week following our return. Please upload your entry by replying to this post, keeping all blog entries under this thread. Entries should be between 400-800 words and describe the destinations we covered, things we saw, people we met, things we ate, etc.

We will edit your entries and post them, along with trip photos, on our main "Asia in My Classroom" forum to share with our other K-12 educator friends. As this program will only allow one file to uploaded per post, please hold off on posting photos until after you have them organized, such as through a photo-sharing site.

We are getting closer to departure! Please feel free to post any questions you may have here on the forum.

-Miranda

[Anonymous]

12:00 am - Still busy out there on the street. The view from room 635 of the Bell Tower Hotel lets us see the _______________ and the Bell Tower in the middle. Surrounding it are multiple shopping centers. Cars keep going around and around. That 24 hour McDonald's on the Southeast corner has more than a few customers going in for a quick bite.
Richard, my roommate this round just finished his shower. In the meantime his computer has been uploading his latest batch of pictures. Blissfully, our air conditioning seems to be working, churning out if not cold then at least cooler air than we would otherwise be exposed to here in X'ian.

12:07 - Outside the construction at the Bell Tower site continues. They must be at it 24 hours a day. Every time I've looked somebody is working. Well, it`s past my bedtime and breakfast will be in a few hours...

6:45 - A wake up call is almost unnecessary these days; we`re all so used to waking up early now. Richard is already up, on the computer looking at his pictures. Outside the window down at the Bell Tower, the street circling it is crowded with a rainbow of buses. Reds, whites, greens, or pink. Some are commuter buses, but many I`m sure are tour buses like our own, taking advantage of the early hour to travel to some hot spot and avoid the crowds.
With these musings in my head I go get ready for breakfast and to no doubt what will be a long day.

7:50 - They`re playing "Eternal Flame" by Tiffany or Debbie Gibson or somebody here in the breakfast cafe. My breakfast is pancakes, a BLT, and fruit. Most of us are here at the Bell Tower Cafe for breakfast. Miranda, Clay, and Venus are at one table. They`re discussing our tour guide J. Li. A few tables away out of earshot is Richard, Ray, and that girl with the cowgirl hat. Betse is sitting a few tables away. Leigh is the last of his group at his table, which had included John, and Javier. John went to the lobby to pick up a copy of the newspaper "China Daily."

8:13 - We took our group picture under the "Welcome NCTA Summer Tour" banner, then we got on our tour bus. After fighting traffic, we arrive at the kindergarden.

8:37 - It was cuteness all around as we arrive to find the 100 or so students doing their early morning excercises. The teachers tell me that they school ours are 8-6 pm, and that half the day is devoted to English instruction. Excercises continue until 9:00
Some of our teachers jumped right in to participate with the students (ages 3 - 6). The kids also got into groups to play games like "pick the watermelon," (Leigh lost by the way) relay races, dances, etc.
After the games and the students went to their classes, a group of them stayed behind to perform for us on the yard. There was a dance recital, an impressive martial arts display (with an equally impressive martial arts teacher), and finally an even more impressive orchestra recital with 4 traditional Chinese instruments. As if things couldn't get more impressive, all but one of the instrument students stayed behind and played 2 solos; each about 5 minutes long. They were masterfully played, and for a 6 year old who has only played for 2 years it is even more remarkable.

9:40 - The first 10 members of the group went to Room 1. The set up in the room was a half-circle with the teacher in the middle and the students facing her. A few of the students introduced themselves, they told us what they liked, what they know about China, and where they want to go. While memorized, their English is quite good for 4-6 year olds. The students then performed a very extensive and elaborate play called "The Magic Flower." The story is about a girl in the country who received a magic flower and when the petals are plucked and a wish is made, the wish is granted. Students played various parts ranging from the mother, an old beggar, the "petal fairies," and wolf. This was all in English with very little prompting from the teacher, and it was at least 15 minutes worth.
After the performance the kids came up to us to say hi and to take pictures. We gave out our book markers and other gifts, and some of the students gave us their artwork.

10:29 - We grudgingly leave the "China-Canada-U.S. Collaborative English Immersion" kindergarden and we head out to the bus.

11:15 - We arrive at the nursing home. It`s a big complex (and construction plans show it`s getting bigger). It has a variety of room types: shared, apartment for single, and even multi-room villas for the senior with discriminating tastes (and a budget for it - 800 RMB per month base). It`s an active living community with daily activities, rec room, a/c, pets, etc.
The seniors seemed genuinely pleased to see us but we were rushed to get to the airport so we had to leave sooner than we had planned (after taking more than one group photo that is - I think this was the day the One China, One Camera Policy was decreed).

12:55 pm - We`re at the airport and having lunch at the "Airport Silk Road Restaurant." Sitting at my table was Mimy, Javier, Richard, Frank, Venus, Miranda, Clay, Leigh, John M, and myself.

1:20 - We`re moving out to the check in counter

2:04 - Most of us have gone through security. There were some ladies in the group that were complaining about the loss of their contact lens fluid even though it was in small containers. It appears random as to what Security takes and keeps. Despite the Draconian measures of Security, the airport is a nice modern one. There was a wall that displayed pictures of the airport froｍ the early days until now. Hey, there`s even a Godiva Chocolate Store!

2:21 - We`re downstairs at Gate 18 waiting to board the terminal bus for the plane. Some of us are writing last minute postcards (Ray), others reading (Leigh and Frank), some shopping (Mimy for example just bought me the ice cream she said she owed me for erroneously giving away my class picture to that host family on Day VII), and the rest of us are just relaxing.

3:15 - We`re on the plane but have yet to take off. We`re waiting for some late arrivals (luckily not from our group). What airline is this by the way? It says Deer Jet on the plane, but the ticket says something else. The people announced on the intercom that we are flying Hainan Airlines. I`m on seat 22C, the aisle (finally). Mimy is next to me, and Miranda is at the window.

4:50 - The air hostess passed out these scratch-off cards like the Lotto or something. I was half asleep. I lost anyway. Back to sleep.

5:28 - We land.

6:17 - The bus pulls out from the airport.

6:30 - We all catch a glimpse of Shanghai`s MagLev train, speeding by at 300 km/hr (not its top speed by the way).

7:12 - We arrive at the riverside. There`s this huge boat made to look like a dragon berthed along side the ____________ river. We`re right under one of the huge bridges that seperate the old part of town with the new.
This dragon boat is a multi-story restaurant. We have a great dinner with a great view. And they have Pepsi. I like this town already.
Once dinner is over, I hear we are going on a cruise along the river.

8:10 - We are at the waterfront in another part of town. We wait for about 1/2 an hour as the boat returns with its passengers. In the meantime Clay, Ray, and I discuss the finer points of Reagan-omics, global politics, cruise ships, and centrifugal force.

8:50 - We depart.

8:51 - Our boat passes by a riverfront McDonald`s. There are huge buildings on both sides of the river. Lights, and ads are everywhere. People are crowded on one side of the river in what looks like a riverside park. On one of the tall buildings, CitiBank, there are huge ads playing. It`s not on a tv screen but on the side of the building, the windows themselves. It reminds me of the cityscape in the movie "Blade Runner."

9:42 - We`re back on the bus and ready to check in at our last Chinese hotel, the Ramada. For many the name itself conveys the quality of the accommodations, but once we see it in the heart of Shanghai our fears are laid to rest. The city itself is bustling, full of people, construction, businesses, and traffic. A huge avenue has been turned into a public walkway (behind our hotel actually), and the group longs to get settled in so we can go out and explore.

11:30 - We've checked in and most of us have gone our separate ways. I went to the walkway I mentioned and walked around. I got a sundae from McDonald`s (6 RMB) and I continued down the street. Bums and peddlers are quite aggressive in this part of town. Much more so than I have experienced in the States, Thailand, or other parts of China. The people (males, females, kids) actually touch you (pat you down for loose objects really), and don`t take kindly to "no."
As I'm walking down the street I meet up with some members of our group. Frank and Ray head out for drinks, and Venus, Richard, Kevin, and I go in the other direction. Richard bought himself a pair of skate add-ons for his sandals after skillfully negotiating the price from 85 RMB to 20.
By midnight I lost track of the group. They've gone off in the direction of the hotel to see if they can catch up to Ray and Frank. I go to a fruit market a couple of streets away and then to a "C-Tomato" convenience store. They have these huge grapes! The size of half dollar coins. It's unreal. I buy some of them and a Mangosteen. The peaches didn't look too great. Then, with snacks in one hand, and a handful of stars above me, I go back to the hotel; to room 1721.

End of Day IX
[Edit by="dcolato on Jul 18, 9:20:55 PM"][/Edit]

[Anonymous]

Our study tour of China officially began as we stood together on the southeast corner of a Tien'an Men Square that was cloacked in a sweltering foggy haze. Against the backdrop of the side of the ancient Qian Men tower, our tour guide, Jenny Cheung, raised her umbrella and began her running narration on what we were observing. Here was Tien'an Men Square: the site of the founding of the People's Republic in 1949; as well as that of the bloody events of the Pro-Democracy movement of 1989. Immediately visible were the changes to the square that have occured since the events of 1989: the ubiquitous security cameras that hang from every lamppost; the white gates that block pedestrian access to the square by simply crossing the street; the presence of three types of military: Army, Police, and Security in three different uniforms. All of these were sobering reminders of what Tien'an Men Square now represents:"State Power", which is also what our tour Director, Mr. Clayton Dube, had established as the theme of today's itinerary.

After entering the square via an underground tunnel, we moved north. To our left loomed the "Chairman Mao Memorial Hall" where his body has been lying in state for 31 years. (Mao died in 1976 and the mausoleum open the following year.) Jenny explained to us that Mao wished that his body would be creamated and that a portion of it would be buried in each of China's numerous provinces. But, following his death, the ruling Politburo decided to follow the Soviet example of Lenin's Tomb by placing Mao's corpse on display as a way of keeping him in the presence of future generations of China's revolutionary citizentry. According to the brochure, "The Memorial Hall is in the shape of a square surrounded by a colonade, and its design incorporates elements from traditional Chinese architecture". But, in reality, the building bears a greater resemblence to the monolithic, Soviet inspired design of the other structures that surround Tien'an Men Square.

Continuing on, the Great Hall of the People, another of these Soviet-style buildings, loomed before us. This is the site of the National People's Congress, but is probably best known to Americans as the place Nixon and Zhou toasted detante and a new beginning in Chinese and American diplomacy, which took place in the lavish banquet hall. Separated by the Monument of the People's Heroes (a granite obilesque commemorating China's Communist revolution) is the Chinese National Museum, which is currently closed for renovations (one of the few structures unfinished in the lead-up to the Olympic Games.) A tall sign stands at the top of the steps counting down the time before the 2008 Beijing Olympics are set to begin on the numerologically satisfying 08-08-08 at 8:08 PM. Currently, the countdown stands at 39 days.

After a short break to wander on our own, we again move north toward the Tien'an Men Gate, which is also the entrance to the Forbidden City. The mammoth portrait of Chairman Mao marks the spot where he first proclaimed the accomplishment of the Communist state. On either side are permanent banners featuring Chinese characters that read "Long live the unity of the world's people- 10,000 years" and "Long live the People's Republic of China". Standing in Tien'an Men Square, one feels the overwhelming power of the state and the insignificance of the individual within this society. Unlike any other public plaza I have ever seen, there is no place to sit down, rest, or reflect. We are here besieged by souvenir salesmen who hawk there wares: copies of Mao's "Little Red Book" and wristwatches that feature the Chairman smiling and waving in metronomic time. We are faced with our first engagement in the haggling that would accompany (almost) virtually every purchase. We then gathered for the first of many group pictures. The Tian'an Men Gate serving as the backdrop.

In 1949, when the Communists finally came to power, the leading architects were asked what should be done with Beijing? Should it remain the capitol? Should it be left as it is and a new capitol be built outside the city? The winning idea was for Mao and the Communists to do what the leaders of previous dynasties had done which is to create their own visual impression upon the city which would mark the revoultionary change in state power. The Communists razed the buildings around the square and expanded its capacity to hold people from 400,000 to 1,000,000. It became the site of numerous pageants of sttate power. As we entered into the Forbidden City, it is clear that the Communists had created a grandious continuity with its Imperial past.

And yet, as one passes through the orange-red gates with their rows of nine gold knobs, one is immediately transported into the world of ancient imperial China. The outer court is shaded by fragrant trees and lined with souvenir kiosks. It is impossible to adaquately describe the Forbidden City's 999.5 rooms; the grandeur and history of the palace. The fog (smog?) made the experience even more surreal. Among the most impressive of the sites were the five marble bridges symbolizing the cardinal virtues of Confucianism which cross the "Golden Water" said to flow from west to east. The bridges lead to the Hall of Supreme Harmony which houses the throne of the "Middle Kingdom". This was well depicted in Bernardo Bertollucci's film "The Last Emperor" a cinematic biography of Pu Yi. Another reference would have to be the entertaining historical novels by Anchen Min ("Empress Orchid" and "The Last Empress") which chronicle the life of the Dowager Empress Cixi, who ruled during much of the late Qing period from "behind a curtain". (We saw that curtain, as well as the living quarters of the concubines from which she emerged). The architecture of the Forbidden City is in itself a testament to the "state power" that was invested here. The layers of Imperial exclusivity are embodied by the vast, ornate structures themselves.

Lunch was served for us at the Wahaha (Laughing Child) Restaurant. A giant golden Buddha greeted our arrival and led us into a bright movie set-like dining area. This was our second encounter with a "Lazy Susan", a sight we would grow to both love and (sometimes) fear in China. (Is there too much of a good thing?) The scumptious and sumptuous dishes spun aroud the table at a dizzying pace leaving everyone more nourished than they had originally intended. Richard Lee was documenting every morsel that we consumed. His visual record of our trip caused one to wonder that if Richard did not photograph something, then it may not have existed or happened.

After lunch, our motorcoach transported us to the Tibetan Lamasery Temple. Built in 1694, the temple was originally the home of Yongzhen, a son of Emperor Kangxi. In 1723, upon his becoming Emperor himself, Yongzhen moved to the Forbidden City and left his home behind to become a Buddhist temple. The layout of the temple is similar to that of the Forbidden City itself, which had me wondering if temples were based on the palace or the other way around. The building houses (literally) many Buddhas, but the highlight would have to be that of the 55 foot tall Maiteya (or "Future Buddha") that is carved from a signle block of sandlewood. How does the Lama Temple relate to the theme of "State Power"? Emperor Yongzhen used his Buddhist religious beliefs, along with his military power, to bring Manchuria, Taiwan, and Tibet into the Imperial Chinese fold. Buddhist faith connected the previously autonomous regions with China despite their different customs, languages and/or dialects.

From the Lama Temple, we continued north to the Olympic Village. Here, we obseved the new National Stadium or as it is commonly referred to, the "Bird's Nest", after its metalic cocoon exterior; and the National Aquatics Center, or the "Water Cube" as the locals have dubbed it. Its bubble-like plastic walls are filled with an algae-laced substance which makes the building have a translucent glow at night. Behind us were six lanes of bustling Beijing traffic fronting massive Olympic housing which will be converted into condos following the games. We walked along the wire fence watching the Olympic venues in the distance and the workers in the foreground as they labored to put the finishing touches on before the opening ceremonies. One "sport" that the study tour engaged in (that will not be on the Olympic agenda) was crossing six lanes of Chinese highway without the benefit of a stop light.

As we rode by motorcoach back into downtown Beijing, one could continue to look at and reflect upon the city that the capitol had become. It is a boomtown of epic highrises that is strangly devoid of much advertising. I dare say that Mao or anyone else who hasn't been here since the early 1990's would not recognize it. What it has gained in visual power it has lost in charm. It exudes a certain hollowness like a huge condominium that stands awaiting inhabitants that may or may not move in.

We arrive at a famous and popular restaurant in a older section of town. Its specialty is Beijing Roast Duck. We are led to a second floor dining room and circular tables adjacent to tall open windows that look out onto the tree lined city lane. The room is brightly lit and the walls are covered with scrolls of calligraphy. Chefs arrive at our tables to carve the brown roasted ducks before us. Waiters then fill Chinese tortillas with duck, sprouts and hoisin sauce. While we eat, the sky bursts and rain peppers the street. Meanwhile, across the room, the theme of "State Power" miraculously reappears as the proprietors have wheeled in and set up a television in order to play a Chinese Communist Propaganda video. Images of a fluttering red flag dissolve into the faces of the masses while marshal patriotic music serenades us all. As fast as it came upon us, the rain outside slows to a drizzle, just as we all are finishing our duck and contemplating what nightlife Beijing has to offer.

And this was only the beginning...End of Day I.

-John Keveanos

[Anonymous]

7/12/08

I got up before the 7:30 wake up call, showered and strapped on my way cool mannie pack. I synched it up a bit tighter than usual...today was my blog day and I meant buisness.

The NCTA team was allowed an extra hour of sleep this morning, which was evident by the appreciative grins that brightened the breakfast buffet line. At 8:45 am, with vigor, we boarded our tour bus. We enjoyed a scenic ride in the Japanese countryside, while listening to Ray M. hammer out a lecture on the beginnings of Buddhism and the Chinese influence on ancient Japan.

The first stop on this busy day was at the Kasuga Grand Shrine, said to be the oldest standing wooden building on the planet. The park is 1400 years old with its beautiful pagodas covering the Buddhas. In comparison with Chinese temples and shrines, Japanese structures are less colorful, more earthy and natural than the bright paint jobs seen on the Chinese structures. The Japanese design is asymmetrical as compared with the Chinese designs. In China if you look through or past an artifact or gate you see the next monument or structure...not necessarily so with Japanese designs. Japanese buildings and markers are at different heights and places not necessarily lined up; so you basically have to move or walk to see the other exhibits. The Japanese park is thoughtfully laid out but appears to be causal and natural. The museum at the park houses ancient treasures; some were familiar from photos found in our American textbooks. After a short rest and some tea, we reconvened on the bus...Ray lectured, the bus was quiet and the traffic was slow.

In Nara Park, we viewed many a Shinto Shrine (After all, there are over a million gods), 1200 year old lanterns, 800 year old trees and attention starved deer. We witnessed a couple of babies getting baptized (I think?).

Lunch was a surprise (How anyone could be surprised by the food on this trip is a wonder...it was always great!) we had binto box lunches at a restaurant located in the park. However, these B.B.s were on steroids, the box was divided into four squares. Each square was filled with amazing colors and tastes...a very delightful group lunch indeed.

Next, was a short walk to the Todaiji Temple. I'd been anxious to experience this temple every since I learned of it during the 2006 NCTA seminar. Two massive wooden devha warriors guard the gate to the temple. The temple is garnished with burning incense, thick light green grass, deer and souvenir shops. The temple is a marvel (I wish I could have seen it when it was 50% larger). Inside are the four warrior protectors stationed at each corner of the temple. The centerpiece is a colossal Buddha with lesser, but huge, Buddhas sitting to his left and right sides. If you could crawl through a hole that was the size of the colossal Buddha's nostril, located at the base of one of the columns, you would recieve good luck. Children squirted threw it (Dennis and I tried but we had no luck...get it!)

We counted off and returned to the bus. The drive revealed Japan's handsome rice fields. Upon entering our final destination, the city of Kyoto, we visited a local shopping district. We were instructed to keep our eyes peeled for Geishas...I did not see any but others on our team did.

Group dinner was...a surprise (why was I surprised?). We boiled our own food while sitting Japanese style on the floor. I somehow got a pair of chopsticks that didn't work very well so Mimi put food on my plate for me. After one of the tastiest meals of our tour, Ray, Richard and I walked through a mile long shopping strip (John K. and John Y. were at a baseball game). We bought beverages and sat along the river talking smack and soaking in the large, lustrous neon and LCD advertisements that electrified the bustling district.

After which we caught a subway train to the main station near our hotel, where we observed a Nagasaki and Hiroshima exhibit. From there we walked back to the New Miyako Hotel. there we joined other NCTA mates for drinks and revelry. Soon thereafter most retired for the night. Lastly, I took an evening stroll in Kyoto to reflect on, and unwind, from the days superb events. I thanked God for allowing me to be a school teacher and for having such brilliant NCTA colleagues for company on this tour (Okay...I was looking for a pub so that I could hang out with the townies...so sue me!).[Edit by="fwiley on Jul 20, 6:43:00 PM"][/Edit]
[Edit by="fwiley on Jul 20, 6:48:22 PM"][/Edit]

[Anonymous]

Osaka Castle

In our little groups, we took the train/subway/whatever it is to Osaka Castle. Our wonderful tour guide, Ritsuko-san, showed us around the place. We’ve had some great tour guides, but I really think that Ritsuko-san was my favorite. She was knowledgeable and had a great sense of humor. She reminded me of my aunties. Looking at the castle from the outside, you never would’ve guessed that it’s a completely modern museum inside. Each level is dedicated to different aspects of the castle itself or Japanese history. At the top level, you have a great view of the city skyline. Once again, the Japanese have greatly pleased me with their fantasically clean bathrooms. The public bathrooms even had bidets---definitely 5-star. I feel like I need to send a thank you letter to the TOTO company.

Lunch

We were taken to a big department store (didn’t catch the name of it) and Ritsuko-san lead us down several levels to the food court area. I thought that malls in LA were big, but they don’t compare to the ones we’ve seen here and in China. People split off into groups to find something to eat. Some had sushi, others had Japanese-style curry, but Betse, Jaclyn, Mimy, Heather, and I opted for an Indian curry restaurant. Our waitress didn’t speak much English, so she sent out one of her Indian cooks to take our order. Globalization in a nutshell—a bunch of Americans having Indian curry in Japan, complete with Indian immigrants and a Japanese woman in a sari. The food was fantastic and I had several glasses of yummy ice water.

Henomatsu Museum

I specifically signed up for this blog day because I was excited for this museum. I was surprised by how small it was. It’s located in a non-descript building on the 7th or 8th floor. We were the only visitors, which was nice, because we got a docent-lead tour of the place. Buraku are native Japanese people who were/are discriminated against because of their “unclean” jobs as butchers, shoemakers, and cremators. This just shows the paradoxical nature of prejudice—Japanese society wouldn’t have been able to survive without the vital services the buraku provided.

We went through exhibits that recreated how Buraku lived in squalid conditions, all the way up until the 1960s. Our guides, one a Buraku himself, talked about how Japanese laws have been created to protect against discrimination and students are learning about the history of the Buraku, but I got the distinct feeling that there is still a long way to go. Clay told us that Ritsuko-san has only been there twice, both with NCTA groups, and the museum gets only about 14,000 visitors a year.

Nintoku’s Tomb (Tumili)

The famous tomb of Prince Nintoku. By this time, the weather had gotten quite hot and humid (what else was new). We broke up into 2 groups-those brave and possibly crazy who would make the trek around the tomb, and those lazy and incredibly smart who would stay in the air-conditioned museum. Guess which group I was in? I was joined by Kevin, Dennis, Betse, Miranda, and an under the weather Jaclyn. The two Johns also joined us, because they were planning on catching a baseball game later that night. We immediately went down to the kid’s part of the museum and proceeded to play their games and dressed up as warriors. (Don’t worry, I’ll attach those pictures later). Some people, I won’t mention names, immediately found some tatami mats, laid down, and took naps. On the second floor, there was a nice area to sit down and take a view of the beautiful park. As the trekkers came in, I had no regrets about my decision—they looked tired and sweaty.

We stopped by another mall on the way to dinner, and I shopped at a 100 yen store—good times! They are much better than the 99 cent stores in States. Others didn’t have the patience to stay there, but I was able to find some treasures.

Dinner and Free Time

We had dinner in Datonbori, a really busy street area with restaurants, bars, and shops. I really don't think there is anything in LA that is comparable to the bustling street areas that we've seen here and in China. A lot of young people were out and about, and Anna continued to be amazed by the metrosexual-ness of Japanese men. We had a shabu-shabu style dinner, with an amazing sashimi first course. I lucked out and sat a table with a non sashimi eater (Betse) and a first time sashimi eater (Javier), so Kevin and I had more than our fill of sashimi. If that wasn’t enough, another table gave us their leftover sashimi—SCORE!

After dinner, most of our group stayed behind to do a little exploring. Anna was determined to get some pictures of Japanese guys, but was too embarrassed to go and ask them to take a picture. We saw some guys hanging outside a 7-11 and we tried to pretend that we were taking a picture of lanterns above them, but they figured it out and started to pose. Anna got embarrassed and walked away, leaving me standing there like an idiot. Finally, with a little push from Clay, Anna got picture of two guys on the bridge. They were more than happy to take a picture, and I think they took a liking to Heather.

We finally got back to the hotel, and Betse made a great discovery—free Internet!

PS—Anna, please upload your picture of the two guys!

[Anonymous]

Kyoto was the capital of Japan for about nine centuries and the home of the imperial family for over a thousand years. It is the heart of traditional Japan, or, as the Japanese call it, Nihon no furusato, the homeland of Japan, with over 2000 temples and shrines. On this day we visited three of the most important.

Our first destination was Ryoanji (Peaceful Dragon Temple), whose world-famous kare-sansui (dry-landscape) Zen rock garden is a UNESCO World Heritage Sight. The temple belongs to the Myoshin school of the Rinzai branch of Zen Buddhism but the site itself has a long and complex history. The earliest temple at the site dates back to 983 CE, a time when the temple grounds were owned by the powerful Heian-era Fujiwara clan. An emperor lived for a time on the property and another temple known as Tokudaiji was built there but was burned down, along with the other buildings on the site, during one of Japan's many medieval wars. The Muromachi-era general Hosokawa Katsumoto built an estate on the ruins of the former temple and imperial buildings. After his death in the Onin Wars work was begun on the temple that was to be built on the grounds according to the stipulations of his will. But by the end of the Onin Wars (1477 CE) most of Kyoto and all of Hosokawa's estate had been burned to the ground. Reconstruction work was begun thereafter and by the end of the fifteenth century Ryoanji is thought to have assumed its present form.

The way to the temple itself is preceded by an artfully designed natural landscape of great beauty and tranquility, a customary introductory feature of most major Japanese temples and shrines, where the world of nature prepares the visitor or pilgrim or worshiper, psychologically and spiritually, for what he or she is about to encounter. Our way led along the shore of kyoyochi, the mirror-shaped pond, where many of us stopped to take photographs, past a small, elegant statue of the Buddha lost in a green world of leaves, up a long flight of broad stone steps and on to the famous kare-sansui garden iitself. Those of us who have seen photographs of Zen gardens or visited one (or are fortunate enough to have a small one in our backyard) are familiar with the stones, boulders, gravel, reflecting ponds and, in the larger gardens, moon bridges arching gracefully over the water. Of these traditional features the rock garden at Ryoanji contains only two: boulders and gravel (or sand). It is an exercise in extreme aesthetic austerity, made even more austere by the elimination of all colors except black (or dark gray) and white, reflecting the basic Asian contradiction/complementarity of yin and yang. The garden itself consists of a large expanse of fine gravel with fifteen boulders of various sizes arranged in such a configuration that it is impossible to see more than fourteen from any one angle at any one time. However, the Zen koan says that if you meditate long enough, you will see the fifteenth boulder.

Traditional seated Zen meditation, or za-zen, is made available to visitors by a weathered wooden platform extending along one side of the rock garden. Here we sat and took a shot at meditation and fathoming the mystery of Ryoanji. We were fortunate in that not too many other tourists were there at that hour and not too many of those were talking. Of course we talked too, at least some of us, some of the time. We are Americans, after all, and, whether as classroom teachers or travelers on the go, we are made very nervous by what radio DJs call "dead air" (aka silence). But Ryoanji casts its mysterious spell even on Americans. We sat for quite a while and stared at the boulders and the gravel and tried to penetrate the mystery. Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate during the Clinton Administration, has complained (in verse) about the way people try persistently to find meaning in poetry, as if they were tying up the poem and beating a confession out of it. I understand what Collins is bothered about and sympathize with him to a point, and the rock garden is certainly a type of visual poem, a monochromatic imagistic expression. But, still, people will have their meaning and we all tried to figure out the meaning of the boulders and the gravel of Ryoanji.

One of the boulders is inscribed with kanji characters that say something like, "Tiger cubs crossing the sea." Is this what it means? Visually the gravel, or sand, and the boulders obviously suggest, as they do in any Zen garden, mountains and water, permanence and mutability. Tigers are associated symbolically with the tragic sense of life in Japanese culture and the Ryoanji site has seen more than enough tragedy, through the horror of war, both before and after its last reconstruction. But is that what it means? Tiger cubs crossing the sea, most drowning before they reach the other side: tragedy, austerity. Clay asked the group what kind of faith was involved in the construction of Ryoanji. No one responded definitively. Later, when he raised the question again at our grand kaiseki banquet, I objected that faith didn't have anything to do with Ryoanji, at least not faith as we understand it. Faith, in the West, is a belief in the ultimate reality of what we can't see or touch or apprehend through any of the senses, very much unlike the highly substantive boulders and gravel of Ryoanji. But Clay's point proved more elusive, like a Zen koan. The faith that built Ryoanji, he argued, was faith in the individual, in the individual's ability to put the rock garden together in his or her mind and make sense of it-- not a bad insight at all, as Zen koans go.

But the mystery of Ryoanji seems to carry us beyond faith and the individual. As we stare at the boulders and the gravel, what we begin to see is not the famous fifteenth rock, or tiger cub, but us, ourselves, in the permanence of mountains, the mutability of the sea, and, beyond that, the impermanence of mountains, the mutability of stone that can be worn away by the immutable sea, the element that covers the globe and has been there from before the beginning and from which we came and of which we are still a part in our own immutable mutability. And that, too, is part of the mystery of Ryoanji.

Our next stop was the equally famous Kinkakuji (Golden Pavilion Temple), a Muromachi-era shrine made infamous in twentieth-century Japanese history, literature and film. The Golden Pavilion was built in 1397 CE by the powerful Muromachi-era shogun and Zen patron Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, whose son later turned Kinkakuji into a Rinzai-school Zen temple. Marked by fire, or seemingly so, since its earliest inception, the temple was burned down twice during the savage Onin Wars of medieval Japan. Then, in 1950, a young Zen acolyte, burdened by a debilitating stammer and an envious hatred of all things beautiful, set fire to the Golden Pavilion and burned it to ashes. He had intended to destroy himself along with the temple but his nerve failed and he ran away, only to be captured and then give dramatic testimony at his trial. The burning and trial inspired Kinkakuji (1956), a novel by one of Japan's greatest twentieth-century writers, Yukio Mishima (author of The Sound of Waves, a story of love in a Japanese fishing village, a short, beautiful novel familiar to most LAUSD tenth-grade English teachers). This is from near the end of Mishima's novel about the Golden Pavilion, when the young Zen acolyte is reflecting on the temple, prior to burning it: "The Golden Temple had been built with gold dust in the long, lightless night, just like a sutra that is painstakingly inscribed with gold dust onto the dark-blue pages of a book. Yet I did not know whether beauty was, on the one hand, identified with the Golden Temple itself or, on the other, consubstantial with the night of nothingness that surrounded the temple. Perhaps beauty was both these things. It was both the individual parts and the whole structure, both the Golden Temple and the night that wrapped itself around the Golden Temple" (254, Ivan Morris trans.). Mishima's novel about the burning of the Golden Pavilion was turned into a film, Conflagration, in 1958 by the renowned director Kon Ichikawa, the creator of Fires on the Plain (about Japanese soldiers in the Philippines) and the spectacular official documentary of the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. Both Ichikawa and Mishima were fascinated by the young Zen acolyte's obsession with destroying the beauty he revered, a manifestation of the "dark side" of the aesthetic response. Human beings, affter all, are active creatures. We will either create or destroy. We will rarely just sit there (unless exhausted, riding on a tour bus).

Perhaps for this reason, and the temple's troubled history, the interior of Kinkakuji is now off-limits to tourists. But you can admire its golden beauty from outside and the grounds surrounding the temple are as beautiful as Kinkakuji itself. I took several photographs of young Japanese couples posing for other cameras, looking idyllic and romantic as they stood before the still waters of Kyoko-chi (the mirror pond) with the image of the Golden Pavilion reflected on its surface. While I was taking more photographs of the Pavilion and the pond (a rather large pond, more like a lake), I heard what sounded like an ax chopping wood and felt as if I had been dropped into an early 1950s Kurosawa film, with the woodchopper cutting steadily in the depths of the forest. I knew it was impossible for anyone actually to be cutting wood in the artificially designed and carefully preserved forest surrounding the Golden Pavilion. But that's what it sounded like. I walked along the gravel path that circled the mirror pond and led toward the temple. The Japanese have a great fondness for gravel, both to look at, as in the rock garden of Ryoanji, and to walk on, as at Kinkakuji and elsewhere. (At the Imperial Palace in Kyoto we learned that the vast expanse of gravel there served a dual aural function: one aesthetic, to provide the pleasing sound of gravel crunching underfoot, the other pragmatic, to warn you in advance who was approaching your quarters, whether an assassin or your illicit lover, both distinguishable by their different footfalls on the gravel.) Finally I came upon the woodchopper, who turned out to be three workmen driving a stake into the ground with an enormous mallet, the kind you usually see only in old Warner Brothers cartoons, where the frantic characters are using the mallet to pound each other into amorphous shapes. The workmen, not at all frantic, were very Japanese, pounding the mallet and driving the stake with great good humor and precise deliberation, as if the process was as important as the final product (getting the stake pounded into the ground). Ray told us about this process after our okonomiyaki dinner that first night in Osaka, advising us to note the care the young chefs took with the process, and that the process was as important as the product, an essential feature of the Zen aesthetic that has traditionally informed, and still informs, Japanese culture (and is the answer to the puzzling question of why Japanese cars built in Japan drive better and last longer than their counterparts manufactured in the US, even when they're built in Japanese-owned plants). I saw this involvement in process all over Japan. In our Osaka hotel an older man polished a large marble floor with an electric buffer, expending as much patience and deliberation as the three men pounding the stake into the ground. It was not just some job to get done with and out of the way. It was a work of art, both the process itself and the finished product.

The Golden Pavilion, by the way, is a magnificent example of the product this kind of Zen process can create. It floats golden at a distance on the placid surface of the mirror pond and towers above you close up like an echanted castle from a fairy tale. It demands a response. Fortunately, most responses, these days, are angelic, or creative, rather than demonic, or destructive. But it is easy to see why the pyromaniacal Zen acolyte burned it down. He had to respond and that was the only way he could. This disturbing tension between creation and destruction is something Japanese art tends to bring forward with great intensity, whether here in the golden beauty of Kinkakuji or in the stark, binary vision that is the mystery of Ryoanji.

Our next stop took us to a place that was both ancient and modern, ultra stylish and extremely traditional, in that yin/yang contradictory/complementary manner that is central to Japanese culture: the Nishijin Textile Center (Nishijin-Ori-Kaikan). Here we saw many stunning kimonos and the traditional looms used to weave them. There is even the opportunity at Nishijin to try your hand at traditional weaving. We did not have time for this. But some of us did buy beautiful kimonos at very reasonable prices. (I saw one I should have bought but I hesitated and did not and "He who hesitates . . . " etc.) We did have time to view a kimono fashion show. I wanted to take pictures, of course. A huge crowd had assembled around the runway, which was more like a large, square proscenium. I looked down from the second-floor mezzanine and saw Ray (easy to spot in any Japanese crowd because of his height) standing at a good vantage point near the runway. I hurried downstairs and stood near Ray, confident I would get some great shots. Unfortunately, a kimono fashion show is easier to watch than photograph. The lovely models (and Japanese women are some of the loveliest on earth) move with what appears to be fluid, unhurried grace: bowing, turning, pausing (very briefly), making a smooth circuit of the runway, coming forward, withdrawing at the end to the rear entrance. I am sure that Richard, with his patented rapid-fire, one-hundred-shots-a-second shutter, got the whole show in perfect frozen frames (I have not had time yet to review his entire extensive on-line photo gallery). But those of us with standard digital cameras had a rougher go of it. Each time I thought I had a model framed and then snapped the shutter, she moved--with fluid, unhurried grace, of course, but moved nonetheless, turning my perfect still shot into a blurred action image. Still, the kimono fashion show was very beautiful, with none of the cheap, sleazy side effects that mar US fashion shows (to my taste, anyway). As Donald Richie notes in The Inland Sea, it is hard to find sordid or sleazy experiences in Japan. The culture just doesn't work that way. (Even when in the Akihabara section of Tokyo I stumbled--purely by accident!--into the porno aisle of a manga models store, with little Barbie doll figures in various provocative stages of undress, it was nothing like a US adult-novelty store experience.) The kimono fashion show remains in my memory (if not my memory card) as a seamless fusion of stillness and motion, product and process, beauty and grace, not unlike, though in a more colorful way, the austere, binary mystery of Ryoanji.

We continued our exploration of Japanese process and product, this time with a hands-on application, at the Kyoto Handicraft Center. Actually, not all of us participated in the hands-on experience. Our guide Ritsuko gave us a choice of participating in a project or accompanying her to visit a Heian-era shrine. This was a tough choice for me. I love shrines and temples. But I wanted to experience the Japanese creative process through a craft with which I had no prior experience (unlike, say, origami). Our choices ranged from crafts like spice blending or fan painting to woodblock printing. I, along with a number of others, chose the latter. I have admired Japanese woodblocks, with their subtle use of line and color, for years. What would it be like to produce one myself? Very difficult, at least for me. The process is complex, involving anywhere from five to seven separate printing (actually pressing) operations. We were given two already-cut woodblocks with which to produce two prints. One depicted a maiko (the more correct term for what we usually call a geisha) in a formal kimono against a wood-lattice door, the other a large red torii, the sacred gate that is the customary entrance to a Shinto shrine (like the great torii that rests in the sea at high tide, which we saw on the sacred island of Isukushima, or Miyajima). (By the way, we learned from Chiyaki, our Tokyo guide, that the correct way to pass through a torii is to bow first then enter, left-foot first, at either side of the gate, as the middle way is reserved for the eight million gods of Shinto; we had all been doing it wrong at the many shrines we visited previously, passing through the gods' portal without giving it a thought.) The first step in making our woodblock print was to apply ink of a certain color (red for the torii, for example) to the woodblock itself, being careful to apply just enough, not too much. The excess had to be scraped off. I did not do this very effectively. The next step was to press the paper down on the woodblock, using a tool to rub the back of the paper hard enough to make a strong impression. I did not do this well, either. On my first print the colors were watery and transparent. On my second, I rubbed harder and tore a hole in the paper and the colors still looked bad. I must report honestly that most of us were more successful in making woodblock prints than I was. Dennis, Javier and Catherine in particular produced lovely prints on both attempts, with subtle but vivid colors. My two prints were chaotic images only an abstract expressionist like the late Jackson Pollock could admire. The unfortunate torii looked like it had received a direct hit from a bomb and was in the process of exploding, while my poor maiko seemed to be morphing into some kind of alien monstrosity in a cheap sci-fi flick. But did I learn anything from participating in the process, despite my dismal failure? Yes. I see woodblock prints through different eyes now and my admiration for the skill and artistry that created them has increased a thousandfold. My own failure made me appreciate others' success. The way down is also the way out, as it is in the contradictory/complementarity spirit of Ryoanji.

After finishing our projects we rejoined the others who had visited the Heian-era shrine and we all had lunch on the second floor of the Kyoto Handicraft Center. This was one of the worst meals of the tour. (For the record, the vast majority of the breakfasts, lunches and dinners served to us on the tour were excellent and some, like the grand kaiseki banquet, to be described later in this posting, were the most remarkable meals I have ever eaten in any country.) The food was served cafteria-style, with both Western and Japanese dishes. I stuck to the Japanese dishes, some meager tempura offerings and pathetic imitation-chirashi bowls. Chirashi is usually a bowl of rice seasoned with vinegar (the kind used in sushi) and topped with generous cuts of sashimi and tamago, the cold Japanese omelet that we would all learn how to prepare and serve at our sushi-making class in Tokyo. These chirashi bowls, however, consisted of very dry rice mixed with a few green peas and some slivers of what, I guess, was supposed to be tamago (though they were flat and flavorless as wood shavings). To add insult to injury, the bowls were so small you got only about four chopstick bites per bowl. As the old Woody Allen joke has it, "The food was terrible and the portions were so small." But there was a point to this bad lunch. It fit seamlessly into the grand design of the day. This dismal lunch would be followed later in the evening of that same day by the grand kaiseki banquet, probably the finest meal I have eaten in my life (without doubt the most artfully arranged, exquisitely served and intricately varied). So the bad lunch made it a very Japanese experiece, with both the dark yang and bright yin, the contrast and complementarity of the worst food with the best, very much in the tradition of the mystery of Ryoanji.

After lunch we resumed our temple-visiting with a trip to Kiyomizu-Dera. But to get there we had to walk up Teapot Lane (Chawan-zaka). This is a steeply-angled road lined with shops and crowded with tourists and locals, some dressed in traditional kimonos. It has been the commercial entrance to Kiyomizu for hundreds of years. Long before Japan was "opened" (invaded?) by Perry's gunboats, Japanese tourists have come to Kiyomizu, always willing, in traditional Japanese fashion, to climb a steep ascent in order to obtain a splendid view. (Donald Richie in The Inland Sea recounts the story of a warrior in the middle ages who climbed a mountain and wrote his commendation of the view, a literary curiosity still maintained at that site.) On the way back we would sightsee and buy ice cream and green tea as we descended Teapot Lane, but on the way up we just climbed. After a moderately steep pull we were rewarded with (literally) breathtaking views of densely-forested mountainside and the city of Kyoto lying in the distance like a dream. One view revealed a far pagoda emerging from the green forest like a scene from Kurosawa's Hidden Fortress. The temple itself is built into the side of the mountain, of course. But the effect is gracious and delicate, as if the temple had grown organically out of the thick forest covering. It is nothing like the truly heart-stopping reality of the famous Xuankong, the Hanging Monastery, apparently nailed into the side of a sheer rock face, that we saw outside Datong in Northern China. The main temple of Kiyomizu has a massive veranda that allows visitors to walk to the wood-railed edge and enjoy the view. (We all took photographs of each other against this scenic backdrop, of course.) As we walked along a gravel path away from the temple we came upon other shrines and pagodas and the waterfall Otowa-no-taki, whose waters are reputed to have healing powers. The visual beauty of the location was overpowering, even though, on the day we were there, the temple and its surrounding grounds were packed thick with tourists. Some private residences were visible down below, partially concealed by a frieze of green leaves. If a person decided to live in Kyoto, and happened to have the money, this would be the place. Our guide Ritsuko told us that the temple cemetery was open to the public that day and she seemed excited about it, and since a few of us had walked already to the distant shrine she wanted us to see first, we followed her down a series of steep stone steps and through a wooden gate to the cemetery. Set on a level outcropping against a picture-perfect view of Kyoto in the distance, the cemetery contained innumerable stone markers commemorating urns with ashes, all bright and close-packed yet stately, a sedate miniature necropolis, or city of the dead. Ritsuko said that the government was trying to discourage older Japanese widows and widowers from coming to the cemetery on weekeneds and spending much of their time there. The government apprently wanted them to be engaged in more life-enhancing pursuits (probably something like the artificial group activities designed for residents of US nursing homes and assisted-care facilities). But most of the old people would have none of it and preferred, stubbornly, to come to the necropolis and visit their departed spouses. This is very traditional, of course, and very Japanese. Life and death, after all, are the ultimate yin and yang, the great contradiction and complementarity mirrored in the gravel and boulders and mystery of Ryoanji.

After leaving Kiyomizu we went back to central Kyoto, across from City Hall, where Clay told us we had over an hour of free time for shopping. Everyone but me was delighted with this news and hurried off to shop. (There was quite a bit of such free shopping time in both China and Japan, far more than we were led to believe would be available on what we had been advised repeatedly would not be a shopping-friendly trip.) I would have preferred to spend more time at Kiyomizu or go see the Heian temple I had skipped in order to butcher my woodblock prints. But I loved Kyoto and it had been a remarkable day so far and I was determined to do something more interesting than shop (having missed my kimono-buying opportunity at Nishijin). So I set off in search of the backstreets of Kyoto to see how the residents live. First I needed to find a restroom. Had I been in LA, downtown, across from City Hall, I would have been SOL as they say in the military (sadly out of luck). I decided to try my luck at a convenience store. Again, in LA this would not have gone well. Imagine going into a 7-11 and asking the guy behind the counter if he has a bathroom. "Sure. At home." But, this being Japan, I went in and, using my limited phrase-book Japanese, asked for the restroom and was personally escorted by the young woman behind the counter to the back of the store where she pointed proudly to what proved to be yet another five-star bathroom. (As Judi notes in her post, all Japanese public restrooms tend to be five-star, even the ones on the shinkansen, the bullet train.) Out on the main street I turned off on my first side street and saw quiet, two-story residential buildings with wood-lattice doors looking very much like the one behind the maiko in my abortive woodblock print. As I proceeded I heard the high-feedback guitar squeals of '70s rock music and turned off on a side street to see several enormous Bose speakers outside what must have been a dance hall or nightclub open for business in the broad daylight of late afternoon. Young patrons, singles and couples, came in and out of the dark entrance. Right next door was a restaurant with an outdoor section, low chairs and tables on a raised platform. I took a photograph of two young men seated at a table for the "Youth in Kyoto" section of my planned educational powerpoint and one of them raised a hand in a high sign. (At least I think that's what it was.) I saw a barbershop with a traditional American striped barber pole and an Italian-style restaurant with the memorable name "the Strada" (not to be confused with Fellini's La Strada). Inside a young Japanese man was singing a Puccini aria (quite well) accompanied by a young woman pianist. At the end of the aria I shouted "Bravo!" and applauded. They both seemed startled but turned and smiled and bowed. (Later, walking past the same restaurant on my way back to City Hall, I noticed that someone had pulled the curtains shut; obviously the idea was to applaud the performance as a paying customer, not as a mooch on the street.) I saw more dogs being walked in that part of Kyoto than anyplace else we visited in Japan. In The Inland Sea Donald Richie observes that Japan is not a dog-loving country, the famous statue of Hachiko notwithstanding. Hachiko was an Akita owned by a professor who lived near Shibuya subway station in Tokyo. Every day the faithful Hachiko would wait for his master's train to arrive. After the professor's death in 1925, the dog continued to show up and wait for the daily train until his own death in 1936. A statue was erected in Hachiko's honor in the large open square in front of Shibuya station. (Ray told us it's a popular meeting place for young people, as in, "Meet me at the dog at 8:00.") Richie may be correct about Japan as a whole but all the dog-owners I saw on the streets of Kyoto seemed to love their dogs and were happy to be photographed with them. One young girl held up a miniature collie in her arms for a memorable portrait.

From City Hall we went to the restaurant Ganko Takasegawa Nijyoen at 484-6 Higashi Ikesu-cho, Kiyamachi-dori Nijyo-sagaru in Nakagyo-ku Kyoto City. (I got the card for this one and keep it in my wallet.) This was the best restaurant of the trip and its grand kaiseki banquet was, as I noted previously, the most artfully designed and elegantly served meal I have ever eaten. Kaiseki-ryori is the full name for this sumptuous repast of many small dishes, anywhere from ten to fourteen separate servings, each dish arranged and presented like an exquisite work of art, so that, as the meal progresses, it is like having a seventeenth-century Dutch still life appear before your eyes seriatim (but with much better food than even the richest Dutch traders could hope to acquire). The word kaiseki refers to the heated stones that Buddhist monks used to carry in the folds of their robes to keep warm in winter and help them endure the hunger pangs of fasting. But the origins of kaiseki cuisine lie in the famous Zen tea ceremony with its small dishes carefully and artfully presented (and just as carefully and artfully consumed by the participants). Our kaiseki meal was served to us in a building that (according to our helpful itinerary notes) originally had been a vacation home to Kyoto nobility for over four centuries. Like any noble Japanese residence it boasts a splendid garden and this is all part of kaiseki. (Every morning in Tokyo I was served a small kaiseki breakfast, only about eight or nine dishes, in a wood-latticed room that looked out on a small but sublime Zen garden.) Beautiful food should be served against a beautiful setting. Both the garden and the banquet room of Ganko Takasegawa Nijyoen provided this, along with the lovely, kimono-clad server, who somehow managed to present all this food to all the hungry diners without ever once losing her temper or a single small, perfectly-arranged dish. Even the beer glasses were beautiful. I'm not joking. The glass rested inverted on the tablecloth and underneath the glass, like a miniscule ship in a miniature bottle, sat an impossibly tiny black origami swan. How could anyone ever fold a piece of paper about a quarter the size of a postage stamp and then make it look like an elegant microscopic swan? A proper kaiseki meal is served on low lacquered tables with the diners sitting on the traditional tatami mat. Ours was modified for stiff-jointed gaijin by providing a shallow well beneath the table so we could sit Western-style with our feet flat on the floor and yet look as if we were sitting on the tatami mat (an ingenious accomodation we would encounter at other restaurants, including the dinner boat that ferried us around Tokyo Bay).

The dishes arrived, and kept arriving, and continued to arrive, and still they came, on and on, small, perfect, enchanting to behold, exquisite to eat, and still they kept coming. I must admit I lost track of just how many were served to us. Only an accountant from Price-Waterhouse could have known for sure. Such complexity of food and service and design necessarily engendered complexity of conversation. As Anna notes in her post, the best dinner-table story of the trip was Clay's beautiful and moving account at the Taiyuan restaurant of how he and his wife met, fell in love and got married, finally, despite the many obstacles placed in their path by the PRC of that time. But the best table talk of the trip (at least the best I heard) was at our grand kaiseki banquet. Once again Clay took the lead. First he raised his question about faith and the mystery of Ryoanji and invited those of us around the table to offer our speculations. After patiently enduring hectoring from me on the inappropriateness of the word "faith" in relation to Ryoanji, he delivered his Zen koan about faith and the individual (see above, in the section on Ryoanji). Then Clay became concerned about a physical feature of the grand kaiseki banquet. Various types of soup were served, including one in which a clear broth in a black-bottomed bowl contained a round piece of tofu that looked a pale moon on a starless night. The soup that caught Clay's attention had a soy-milk base that was poured into what looked like an oversized Mr. Coffee filter. This in turn was placed over an open gas burner on the table, rather like a shabu-shabu pot. The big difference is that the shabu-shabu pot is not made of paper. Each diner had his or her own gas burner with a paper soup bowl. Clay stared at his, leaned closer, turned his head sideways. What happens, he wondered aloud, when the paper catches fire? None of us had a good answer. Some of us suggested that the soy milk might keep the paper from burning. But as the fire continued to burn and the paper got hotter . . . Finally we turned in consternation, and some desperation, to the Science Teacher. Kevin informed us that water (or soy milk) boils at 212 Fahrenheit while paper's combustion point is 451. (A good science teacher, Kevin actually used Celsius figures but I translate for the metrically-challenged like myself.) Kevin seemed a bit surprised that we did not know this. (Actually, those of us who teach English should have remembered Ray Bradbury's famous novel Fahrenheit 451 and then connected that with some dim memory from science class about water's boiling point being around 200.) This crisis having been resolved, we proceeded to submerge our metal baskets of vegetables and fish into the boiling soy milk--learning first, from Frank's example, to take out the small plastic cup of condiments from the basket before taking the plunge. (Frank told us he knew this all along and was just testing the rest of us to see if we were paying attention.) Some of us, like Miranda, do not eat fish, and as she was kind enough to pass her basket down to our table, some of us, like me, got a double helping of fish and vegetables in our soy-milk soup. The soy soup, when done, was delectable, with the fish and vegetables and the soy mixing to create a creamy texture but without the butter and heavy cream usually used to create such soups in most Western cuisines. We had sashimi, of course, and more tofu and pickles and tempura and rice and cold soba noodles and the gelatin-like substance known as kanten, made from the powdered sea vegetable agar-agar, much less sweet and yet far more flavorful than Jello--all these coming to us in small, perfect dishes, each one, as they say, a work of art in itself, the empty dishes disappearing as if by magic, the full dishes taking their place, an ever-shifting mosaic, like the balance of yin and yang, empty and full, the raw and the cooked (to steal a phrase from French anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss), the contradiction and complementarity that is the heart of the mystery of Ryoanji and of the mystery of kaiseki as well. And, of course, the point is that there is no mystery. The mystery is the reality of existence, of life itself, in Japan, anyway, in Kyoto, absolutely.

Finally, we finished our meal. Our server bowed to us. We bowed in return. I told her. "Gochiso sama deshita" (it was a feast). She giggled and said the proper polite phrases in return for the compliment, astonished perhaps that an older gaijin should even attempt a phrase in Japanese, however badly pronounced. We put our shoes back on. (Future potential tour members will be advised that there is a lot of taking off and putting back on of shoes, when entering Buddhist temples, certain restaurants, even certain upscale middle/high schools and this is true; you can wear sandals or do what I did: untie and tie up your shoelaces a lot.) Outside we were given money to take cabs back to the hotel, four to a cab, a guilty pleasure in public-transportation-rich Japan. (The cabs are as outstanding as the subways and trains, by the way; I took one back alone from the great Kabuki-za theater in Tokyo, Beethoven's violin concerto playing on the sound system as the driver maneuvered his way through traffic.) Some of us chose to take the bus back to the hotel and save part of the cab money for other personal expenditures. The rest of us piled into cabs and rode off through the dreaming heart of traditional Japan, satisfied, but not sated, by our grand kaiseki banquet, all of us now part of the ever-shifting mosaic: sleepy and wide-awake, night and day, lame lunch and unforgettable dinner, good woodblocks and bad, gravel and boulders, life and death, yin and yang, the mystery of Ryoanji finally and fully revealed to us, in true Zen fashion, not by the explaining of the idea but in the doing of the thing itself, process as reality.

Leigh Clark
Monroe HS[Edit by="lclark on Aug 13, 5:15:31 PM"][/Edit]
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[Anonymous]

Thursday July 3rd

Lucky for me this was one of my favorite days on the whole trip.

Our first stop was the Yungang Grottoes – i.e. “More Buddha’s per square inch or your money back… guaranteed!” Actually there are more than 51,000 Buddha’s carved throughout these amazing caves and rock structures. I was in awe of the artistry of each Buddha, from the immensity of some to the exquisite minute detail of the tiniest ones. I enjoyed Jenny’s story of the princess who gave birth out of her armpit, along with the accompanying carvings. Another bonus was that the caves were nice and cool, and Kevin gave a very astute observation when he commented that if he lived “back in the day” he would have gladly offered to help carve the many Buddha’s in the caves, as opposed to toiling out in the hot sun. I agreed.

After the grottoes we drove for a long time through the most beautiful countryside, with rolling green mountains so picturesque and magnificent. I have a watercolor in my bathroom of exactly the same scenery but I never imagined that China really did look like that. And of course the reality was much more breathtaking.

My appreciation of the views was interrupted when we turned into the Smiling Restaurant, one of the most "local" restaurants we had eaten at on the entire trip. Although the bathroom wasn't 5 stars, the food was GOOD! Better then most I had eaten already in China actually, and I walked out happy and satisfied.

Not even a 15 minute drive later and I realized the reason we had eaten at Smiling Restaurant was because it was so close to my favorite thing in all of China – the Xankong or Hanging Temple. From the second I stepped off the bus I was overcome by a wave of serenity as I took in the beauty of the entire place. It was amazing – like an old wooden tree house embedded into the side of a mountain a million feet in the air. What also struck me were its surroundings – bright colorful flowers, a dam, and a low river providing the background music of water passing over smoothed stones. It impressed me that China had done so much to preserve and enhance your experience at the Hanging Temple.

Climbing up it was both terrifying and exhilarating. I loved pulling myself up the stairs that were basically ladders, and the view of the canyon was beyond words. Even though one misstep could mean a short plummet to your death, I loved every second; that fact actually added to the exhilaration! I did not want to leave. I thought nothing could top my experience when I timidly ventured into the bathroom – it was as incredible as the Hanging Temple but in restroom form! Incense perfumed the air, it was sparklingly clean, there was TOILET PAPER!! I felt like singing.

Dinner was at a restaurant decorated like a cheap wedding gone wrong - a trellis of plastic pink flowers welcomed us to our tables. In keeping with the romantic décor, Katherine asked Clay how he met his wife, and I was so thankful because it was one of the most incredible love stories I had ever heard, and Clay is such a witty and engaging story teller. His is a true story of romance, of Love vs. Communism with Love being the victor, and I felt very lucky to have heard it.

The day was topped with a stay at the Lihua hotel in Taiyuan which was probably the nicest hotel we stayed at on our entire trip. Jacuzzi tub, flat screen tv, I was in heaven. It took a lot to pull me away from such luxury, but I decided to do a little group bonding and went out for beers with my fellow travelers. We ended up just sitting at a table on the street with the locals, drinking from 40oz beer bottles that cost about 30 cents apiece, and just talking, getting to know each other, and enjoying each other's company. It was great way to unwind and cap off an incredible day.
[Edit by="asarnoff on Jul 22, 5:00:09 PM"][/Edit]

[Anonymous]

Here it is Judy. It comes out really small so you can't really see the metro-ness that well. Sorry I left you standing in front of those guys! Ps - your blog is hilarious![Edit by="asarnoff on Jul 22, 9:45:17 PM"][/Edit]

[Anonymous]

Day 4 Wednesday, July 2 Beijing to Datong

Today can best be summarized as a day of firsts.

The morning started off really great. The temperature reached a high of 21°C affording us a rather pleasant climate in which to enjoy this day’s many one-of-a-kind experiences. The sky was slightly hazy, however, today had been the most sunshine we’ve seen since we arrived.

Today we visited the first of many temples to come- the Temple of Heaven. For me, the Temple of Heaven was just as impressive as the Forbidden City. The principles of feng shui used in the orientation of space and the architectural design of this structure continued to give me insights into the ancient philosophical and religious beliefs and traditions of the Chinese people. The ideas of Chinese cosmology and numerology were all embedded in the architecture of this awe-inspiring marvel.

Today was the first time we observed local Chinese people engaged in day-to-day leisure activities. Upon entering the Temple of Heaven, I was surprised to see such a large number of locals congregated at the park in front of the temple. Although I had heard that many Chinese people like to practice tai chi in the mornings at local parks, I was not expecting to see the size of the crowd that gathered there this morning. Furthermore, I was not expecting to see such a diversity of activities- beyond practicing tai chi forms, many others were singing, dancing, playing a type of hacky-sack foot game, playing Chinese chess & go, playing badminton, and playing traditional instruments like the flute and arhu. I observed that so many of the locals that were present tended to be older in age. I was so happy to see that so many Chinese people stay active in their older age. Such activity must surely promote their health and longevity. The sights and sounds we all soaked up at this park served as important insights into the daily lives of Chinese people. I wished we could have spent a bit more time just hanging out at the park interacting with the locals of Beijing.

Today was the first day we were given some free time to explore this famed northern capital city. I decided to join Frank, John K., John Y., Richard, and Leigh on a very fast paced trek to Tiananmen Square in hopes of arriving on time to see Mao’s mausoleum. We raced toward the grand plaza in hopes of forming into a line we anticipated would be a two hour wait. When we arrived we learned that cameras were forbidden inside the mausoleum. Kindly, Leigh and John Y. stayed behind with our cameras as the rest of us hurried inside- fortunately, we were ushered in right away without a wait. As I looked through the glass encasing, I saw that Mao’s body appeared to be rather well preserved. Two military guards in full regalia stood post inside the enclosing guarding their leader’s body. The entire viewing took no more than perhaps 30-45 seconds. We were rushed out quickly. Apparently, the officials do not like any stagnant lines. Everyone is herded through rather hurriedly. When we exited we learned that the mausoleum had closed. Sadly, Leigh and John Y. were unable to enter. A big thanks goes out to them for affording us the opportunity to enter the mausoleum. Thanks guys!

Today was also the first time we were given the opportunity to have lunch on our own. I joined Judi, Mimi, Kevin, Anna, Kristina, Venus and Catherine. Some of us decided to climb a long flight of stairs to the food court level in a local shopping mall complex instead of waiting for the elevators to become available. We also thought the exercise would help us enjoy a guilt-free high calorie meal. We all found it a bit unusual we had to obtain a 20 dollar meal card at a central cashier to be able to order food in the food court. After figuring out the meal card requirement, we all continued exploring the eclectic meal selection available to us. I enjoyed a delicious dish of spicy cold noodles mixed with vegetables and a sweet Asian fruit soft drink. A big thanks goes out to Mimi and Kevin for helping all of us navigate the language barrier during our first solo meal in Beijing.

After lunch, Kevin and I went shopping. We spent the majority of the time shopping at one of the Beijing Olympic stores hoping to find memorable souvenirs for friends and family back home. We both succeeded. I purchased a beautiful commemorative Olympic coin for a very good friend. Unfortunately, I ran into a mini dilemma while attempting to use my VISA to make the payment. The cashier couldn’t seem to process the card. It was taking too long to finalize the transaction so I opted not to make the purchase. Fortunately, Venus came to my rescue and loaned me the money in cash to make my purchase. I must say, I felt blessed to be accompanied by so many kind individuals on this trip.

No one had the prescience to foresee that today would be the day of an interesting adventure at the Beijing Rail Station. Today was the first time we got separated as a group. When the boarding call came, one half of the group managed to board at the proper terminal while another missed the train. The hero of the evening was definitely Professor Clay Dube. He was constantly on his cell phone making use of all his contacts to remedy the situation. Every few minutes I would see Clay taking phone calls. At one point he snuck into a mini mart at the rail station to better situate himself in a less boisterous space so he could hear the caller on the other end. I observed two mini mart employees standing next to Clay giggling at the situation they apparently overheard narrated over Dube’s cell phone conversations in Mandarin. Poor Clay broke a sweat as he treaded the rail station finding the appropriate personnel to help resolve our dilemma. All I can say is that Clay was thoroughly professional and calm while attending to our needs during this unexpected dilemma. Clay was so kind to treat us to KFC at the rail station in order to satiate our hunger pangs as we waited for our tour guide Jessica to return and meet us with a charter bus. Kevin was also kind enough to treat us to a beer. All these kind gestures made this experience a rather nice one in my opinion. As we waited for our charter bus to drive us to Datong, I got to see the rail station at night. The lights mounted on the façade of the rail station gave it a cool glow. Just like in the daytime, the rail station continued to exhibit crowded conditions. I could see many people outdoors sleeping on newspapers waiting for their train to arrive. As some waited to be taken to another city or perhaps to the rural countryside, we waited to be taken to our next stop- Datong.

We finally arrived in Datong at 3:00 am. A special thanks goes out to my roommate Dennis for being considerate enough to have left the hotel room door open for me as well as having left a light on in the room so I wouldn’t have a “trip” of another kind.

Perhaps the only thing that was not a first today was Dennis having ice cream. I know he had one at the park adjacent to the Temple of Heaven. Based on numerous observations, I would safely conclude that this is perhaps the only exception to today’s many firsts.

[Anonymous]

Hey everyone, I felt compelled to enter one more blog in hopes of explaining my tardiness in posting my journal entry on time and with a desire to share with you an interesting coincidence that occurred upon my arrival back home.

Let me entitle this blog: “Javier’s Additional Post for July 18-23: Two unexpected Visitors…An Unexpected Extension of My East Asian Cross-Cultural Experience”

When my sister picked me up at the Van Nuys FlyAway on Friday afternoon, she told me we had two foreign students living with us at home. It just so happens that the two foreign students are from China. While I was away enjoying three weeks of adventures with all of you, my mother was approached by a community organization with the request of taking in two students from China for a two week foreign exchange program. My mother readily accepted. Her rationale was based on a desire to mirror the generosity bestowed on her son. The way she saw it, if her son was given so much via the generosity of NCTA, then she too had to reciprocate and give back to these two Chinese students.

So, let me tell you about our guests. Jerry and Kevin are two 16 year old boys from Nanjing, China. They currently attend No. 13 Middle School in Nanjing. Kevin’s mother is a music teacher and his father is an office worker. Jerry’s mother is an environmental worker. Jerry loves classical music, science fiction, swimming, and math. When he grows up he wants to study actuary. Kevin likes physics, listening to classical music, playing computer games, and swimming. When Kevin grows up he wants to be a businessman.

Since I arrived, I have spent much time with them hoping to make their stay in America a pleasurable and memorable one (All of this time has kept me away from my blog…sorry). This past weekend I took them to tour the UCLA campus. On our way there, I stopped to buy them some Star Maps which they liked very much. They were very impressed at the enormity of the UCLA campus. For them, it was a very big place. I treated them to some Bruin BearWare and they have been sporting their UCLA t-shirts ever since. I also took them to the Bonaventure Hotel to the Sky Tower and to Chinatown. Jerry so happens to be a very skilled chef. He wanted to cook some traditional dumplings for our family. So, while in Chinatown, we visited a market to buy some traditional ingredients- bok choy, pork, pot stickers, and flavored vinegar. I thoroughly enjoyed his lesson on making dumplings. I was rather impressed at Jerry’s desire to acquire only the freshest of ingredients for our meal. He was very meticulous in his selection for he desired the best meal to grace our palates. Shopping with them in Chinatown was quite fun.

Yesterday, I took them to the Griffith Observatory at night. They really liked this excursion. We were blessed with a great view of the city at night. The planetarium show also impressed them very much.

Jerry and Kevin are really having to practice their English with us. For the most part, they understand everything we say. However, they are not always confident in their oral skills. I personally think they are doing just fine. Whenever we get stuck in communicating a particular word or concept, Jerry pulls out a handy-dandy palm pilot language translator to tear down any language barriers. I have really enjoyed learning more about China from them. A few nights ago, we sat in the den using Google Earth to explore their hometown of Nanjing. Today, I shared with them my pictures of China and Japan over a meal at Shakeys Pizza. They really liked seeing my photos. I felt I was able to make more of a connection with the boys via these pictures and my experiences in East Asia. Tomorrow, the boys will be teaching me how to play Chinese chess and ‘go.’ They wanted to reciprocate after I showed them how to play chess. I will also be showing Kevin how to play the theme to Schindler’s List on the piano tomorrow. Tomorrow, the boys will prepare a special tea that was given to me by the family I visited in Xian. This very special and expensive tea is worth enjoying with our two guests. It was funny- when the boys read the Chinese characters describing the tea I had brought back, they got very excited. They had heard about this very expensive tea and were excited to try some for they have never had such a lucrative kind.

I am still awed by the generous heart of the Chinese people. Jerry and Kevin brought some very special and meaningful gifts for our family. They both brought us a traditional tea pot, books about Nanjing, four very beautiful large red ornaments used to bless rooms in a home (they were handmade by Kevin’s mother!), and a famous poem written in beautiful Chinese calligraphy by Kevin’s grandfather. The poem is one by a famous Chinese poet named Du Fu. I hope that Clay helps me translate this poem into English.

I hope to take them to visit the San Fernando Catholic Mission and the museum there. Also, we hope to take them to Knotts Berry Farm or perhaps to some sites in San Diego before they depart next week. The program they are in will be taking them to the beach, Universal Studios, Disneyland, Hollywood, and other sites.

I am so glad I learned how to count in Chinese, that I learned a few basic phrases in Chinese, and that I learned about Chinese customs and practices during my NCTA study tour. They have really helped me communicate and understand my two guests better. I look forward to many more conversations with Jerry and Kevin. And, I look forward to seeing all of you in September!

[clay dube]

Javier,

This is just astonishing. I hope you record some of what your new friends tell you so that you can share it with your students and with us at the reunion.

Everyone else,

Perhaps you didn't have a couple Chinese houseguests waiting for you, but have you had any Chinese or Japanese encounters since we parted company? Maybe a restaurant trip, a chance meeting, or deciding to rent a Chinese or Japanese film?

[Anonymous]

July 8th Last Day in China.

This was our last day in China. We visited the World Expo Center in the morning. In front of the building was a mascot which looked like Gumby, but instead of green was blue with a Bob's Big Boy twirl of the hair. Inside, on the first floor was a complete model of inner Shanghai city. What impressed me about the Expo Center was the forward thinking of city planning to create an eco-environment friendly atmosphere of family living with plans to reduce traffic congestion and pollution. The Expo seemed to proclaim Shanghai as the city of the future--this confidence of China into the future was seen everywhere in our travels with the Chinese people.

We visited the Yu Garden and got a sense of a grand estate. As we walked through the winding paths, we bumped, several times into workers who were removing the elaborate windows and were engaged in the tedious task of washing everything by hand. It was very labor intensive. My attention turned to the paths which were paved with tiny stones in intricate patterns and showing expert craftsmanship. As we walked through this tour of the Yu Garden, I couldn't help but to compare this place with the Huntington Library's new exhibit of their Chinese gardens, which seems so similar such as the rock formations around the koi pond, and overall artistic splendour, but the Yu Garden is much more compact (and Anna suggested, more maze-like) and had the air of something much more ancient than the Hungtinton. It was pleasant, picturesque and beautiful.

After the tour of the Yu Garden, we had free time before dinner. I went to a department store suggested by our tour guide Allen. I bought a jade pendant--a simple barrel shape with a hole through it for a chain. Venus picked it out--she has such good taste in jewelry. I bargained it down from 280 to 210 Yuan, (I thought I made a good bargain, but from what I understand Catherine is amazing in the wheeling/dealing bargaining in China), and at purchase, I watched the saleslady string the jade barrel through a red string, expertly tieing the string and burning the ends to make it an unending circle.

I had heard from others that many of the gals in our group went bargain shopping for fake designer purses, and Anna and others went to this shop with a revolving wall to reveal and hide these fake treasures, and some really made great deals. I wish I had been able to be granted access to the revolving wall as well.

At dinner, (I saw a picture of the Presidential Bush and First Lady at this restaurant--no?), we enjoyed many delectable dishes of food, sweet and sour fish, and the last night of the overflowing lazy susan, and had a group discussion on what surprised us in China. Judy commented on the bathrooms (a favorite conversation topic among the female members of the group). Javier and Dennis commented on the drastic growth seen in China--the high rise buildings, construction cranes, and luxury cars. What struck me in particular is how traditional and modern are still side by side as evidenced best in a picture Richard took of our bus waiting in line after three horse drawn carts waiting to pay the bridge toll. Clay commented on China being a country of contrasts, which is certainly true: Traditional vs. Modern, Wealth and poverty, Communism and Capitalism/Consumerism, rural and city, opportunity and the lack of. The books on Shanghai that Clay and Miranda gave us that night also echoed this theme. Clay, Miranda and Venus, Thank you for the books 😀 What a wonderful and thoughtful gift.

That night, the last night in China, many people went out to savor these last moments. Jaclyn and I went to Haagan Dazs which in China is a very upscale ice cream shop. (I am sure many are laughing of my overseas ice cream addiction while reading this right now--it is my comfort food away from home--alright, at home too). In this Haagan Dazs, you are greeted at the door, and well dressed, uniformed waiters and waitresses lead you to your table and you are given a menu. I finally got my Dulce de Leche and Jaclyn had a berry concoction.

We walked back to the Ramada Hotel and a begger girl of no more than four or five years of age cried woefully begging with her cup, and pressing against us, patting us down and checking pockets for money. I felt sadness and compassion for this little girl, wanting to take money out of my purse, but not following through with this compulsion for fear that this girl or whoever was waiting in the sidelines for her would rob me. As we walked away she gave pitiful wails and cried. We both walked silently to our rooms and spent the rest of the night in silence each thinking about the plight of this little girl, sad for the condition of this person who is not reaping the rewards of this industrial revolution taking place in China and little chance to improve her lot in lfie. What a contrast to the children we saw at the Elementary school the previous day.

[Edit by="hpenrod on Jul 25, 8:04:45 AM"][/Edit]

[Anonymous]

After finding out our itinerary for the trip, I was most excited to see the Great Wall, and Qin Shiuangdi’s terra cotta soliders. On July 6th I woke up and was very anxious for the day ahead of us. I too carefully chose this day as my blog day. Just like on the day we went to the Great Wall, I spent my morning feeling a little frantic. I wanted to make sure nothing would go wrong, so I was very careful in selecting comfortable clothes and shoes to wear. I made sure to pack every med I had, and triple checked that my camera was ready to go. I did not want anything to inhibit my experience today.
We got on our bus with Ellen aka Li, who directed us as we headed to the soldiers. She was one of my favorite guides because she was very humorous and informative.
She told us about the farmers who found the soldiers, and how much the Chinese appreciated that Bill Clinton, not only visited the soldiers, but made a point of it to meet the farmers. He was the first president to do that.

Qin Shiunagdi, named himself as the first emperor of China. During his reign he decided to have a tomb to honor him. He initially wanted to be buried with real men, but when he was convinced that was a bad idea, he settled on the idea of surrounding himself with soldiers and horses made of terra cotta.

Although Chinese scholars knew of this tomb it remained untouched for 2,000 years. The Chinese worried of a possible threat if they invaded the tomb. Then in 1974 farmers began to dig for a well, and ultimately uncovered the tomb.

When we arrived at the pitts, I could hardly contain myself as I pratically skipped to the front door. Catherine, who also teaches 6th grade Ancient Civilizations, and I eagerly walked in and began to scan the area. We took pictures, and examined the soldiers closely.
It was here that I ran into some of the nicest people I had met in China.
A few people offered to take pictures, and a few who saw me peeking over the crowd, moved aside so that we could get a closer look.

Perhaps one of our greatest lessons of the day was on how to haggle. Many Chinese were selling small replicas of the terra cotta soldiers. Catherine and I were the first victims and were proud that we haggled our way down from 250 yuan to only 50 yuan a piece.
Soon after we learned that one of our colleagues paid 60 yuan for it, we felt even more proud…that its until we continued on our tour.
In pit 3 and 4 most of the group haggled their way down to only 15 yuan.
We felt defeated.
But it wasn’t until we left the museum, that we truly began to understand the art of haggling. There the replica soldiers were offered at just one yuan.

From there we had a buffet lunch. There were actually french fries, stale yes, but French fries they were!

On this trip I discovered for the first time in my life there are two people who love ice cream as much, if not more, than I, Dennis and Heather.
Earlier I heard Heather recruiting people to go to Haagen Daaz with her, and I eagerly volunteered.
We began to walk in the direction of the ice cream. Although we walked very far in the intolerable heat, we would not give up.

Suddenly I heard Heather shouting. When I turned around, I saw Heather shooing away a man who was trying to open her back pack. She screamed at him to get away, but the odd part was he just stood there. He didn’t run or yell back, he just stood there as she continued to yell at him to leave. After one meager attempt to claim his innocence he finally left.
Finally we arrived at Haagen Daaz and ordered some splendid ice cream

We then began to head back to the hotel so that we could meet for our evening performance and DUMPLING Dinner.
What better to be served for dinner after the previous nights dinner of homemade dumplings, than a dumpling dinner of 18 different types of dumplings.
Each times the waitress put down a dumpling she would tell us what it was and what it was made of.
“Duck dumpling…look like duck” (insert Mimy’s impersonation of Chinese accents)
“Fish dumpling... look like fish.”
Our final course was the soup which was also something of a crystal ball:
“If you find 1 dumpling – you will have good luck”
“If you find 2 dumplings – you will have good luck.”
“If you find 3 dumplings- you will have good luck.”
“If you find 4 dumplings- you will have good luck.”
and you know what’s next...
“If you find no dumplings...then no luck.”

We laughed quite a bit at this dinner, and Richard caught Venus in a picture giving me the evil eye.

After dinner, we watched a wonderful performance which had very elaborate costumes and set designs. Finally, we headed back to the hotel.

[vjones]

I want to thank everyone who has posted a blog. I have really enjoyed reading and reliving the study tour through your eyes. I can't wait to read the rest of the blogs. Great job!

Kristina, I would like to clarify that I did not give you a dirty look in that picture. Even though you have proof of it, I am going to blame it on the dumplings!!! How can anyone eat 18 different kinds of dumplings and not go a little cuckoo!!!

[Anonymous]

A fine drizzle veiled Pingyao as our group collected in the front room lobby for a buffet breakfast. We had all shared a platform bed at the Pingyao International Financiers Club or Yunjincheng Hotel with our roommates so Frank and John K. began a humorous banter about the subject, easily revived, sustaining the group’s periodic craving for levity for the rest of the trip.

Our journey on the bus to the Taiyuan airport was rapt with potholes and our driver was an expert at swerving around obstacles, giving some watching the road a thrill ride and for many of us, a time to reflect on beautiful Pingyao.

Our plane trip from Taiyuan to Xian was uneventful. We were welcomed with blue skies and green fields spotted with emperors’ funeral mounds as we descended. Xian was the right mix of cosmopolitan and ancient history as we explored this ancient capital. Immediately, we were whisked by “Ellen” our guide, to one of the most important Buddhist landmarks in China, The Big Wild Goose Pagoda and surrounding complex. It is so named because of a legend told by Ellen about the two sects of Buddhism at the time, one of which could eat meat. One day a monk expressed his desire that the bodhisattva provide some meat and at that moment a wild goose flying above broke its wing and fell to its death in front of the monks. The scene so horrified the monks they decided to avoid meat forever more. Here is where Xuanzang, the 7th century Tang Dynasty traveling monk is memorialized. The pagoda was built with bricks and without cement so the tight seams of construction are still visible. Like many mud buildings in China, the original pagoda fell into disrepair and needed to be renovated during the early 700s under the direction of Empress Wu Zetian. Unfortunately we were not allowed to ascend the stairs of the pagoda and take in the views of Xian, due to renovations. Reflecting on the Indian sutras near the museum shop was a peaceful and cool respite from the heat. This was an auspicious beginning to our study of old Xian known as Chang-an on the path of the Silk Road.

After our visit to the pagoda, we eagerly entered the air-conditioned bus and we were off to the Muslim Quarter for lunch. We entered a near empty restaurant to enjoy "hot pot". What a feast, which included fresh vegetables and lamb!

After lunch we checked into the hotel and were given some free time to explore the area, mail packages and get ready to meet our host families. A major highlight in Xian was our home visit. To be able to go in small groups to local homes and have an informal visit was fantastic.

Our NCTA sub-group (Venus, Heather, Richard and me) did not have a Mandarin speaker and we were a little surprised that Mr. Yuan, our host, is a local travel agent and not an English teacher. He explained that he was taking us to his parent's apartment for dinner. His English was not very fluent but we soon learned he had a 15-year-old son at the apartment waiting for us who did speak English. “People in China are happy”, he said. He felt the reason was due to increased international contact. Meanwhile through halting conversation we discovered that Mr. Yuan lived in Thailand for three years and that he spoke fluent Thai. Venus was launched into action as our Thai translator. Who would have thought?

A zealous grandma and grandpa, an aunt, an 18-year-old cousin Anna (?), and Mr. Yuan’s son, Lin Yuan, met us at the door to the apartment. Lin’s mom was at work in the suburbs as an engineer near the Yuan home. Mr. Yuan was obviously enthusiastic to show off Lin's abilities in English and the more he encouraged, the quieter Lin became. Lin's cousin, Anna was quite conversant. Lin's English was pretty good "due to American movies" and yet he was not forthcoming. He kept looking down at his lap and I realized that his cell phone was receiving calls. This felt very familiar and I asked him if he was sometimes under a lot pressure to perform, like that evening and he said "Yes, I am!" Oh, the lot of the only child!

We offered bookmarks, USC memorabilia and California postcards from students in the U.S. Lin and Anna were genuinely appreciative. Eventually Anna left for tutoring and Grandpa left for his night security job. The book of the Monterey Bay area from Richard was greatly appreciated by the family and when Heather presented her book about Los Angeles, Lin was beaming. "I really like this", he said. Suddenly, like most teenagers, Lin was connecting and enthusiastic and asking questions. Grandma lamented we did not finish all 20 dishes of food she prepared. The green bean dish was one of our favorites! And the picture taking frenzy at the end of dinner made us feel that we would never be allowed to leave. Mr. Yuan drove us back to the hotel as the lights twinkled all over the city. Back at the hotel Heather & I looked for ice cream to no avail (see Kristina's blog) and ended up in the hotel lobby bar with English tea and a banana split.... a tradition we plan to continue very soon. It had been another great day in China.

[Edit by="eamador on Jul 27, 4:14:10 PM"](Note: please add your home visit memories or any others to July 5th.)[/Edit]

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