Planes, Trains, and Wagons East

And now for something completely different. Prague. An utter disappointment. Don't get me wrong, its a gorgeous city... when the streets aren't clogged with map-wielding, camera-flashing, tourists in groups of 30 or more - I think the only locals who live in Prague work in the restaurants and stores that serve us. But they were. Everywhere. And they rob the city of its beauty. Unfortunately I booked four nights in a hostel (the most I have ever booked at once) expecting greatness.

I did the standard walking around, drinking coffee, eating delicious food thing for two days. I hiked to the top of the biggest hill outside the city, then up a huge tower from which I got a spectacular view of the city. Like I said, gorgeous when you can't see the tourists. The next two days I spent around the hostel, blogging, planning the next 2 weeks of my trip, and resting, because holy crap I was tired of tourists and cities. At this point I made it my mission to visit a small town in Germany and spend a few days there, away from the madness. I did make it to the city center for an concert put on as an anti-communism demonstration. There I met a cool German chick and after the music we went to a ridiculous bar with 3 floors: one for drinking, once for dancing, and one for live music. We chose live music. Pretty cool.

The best thing about Prague was definitely the beer. So far, the Czech's make the best, and Budweiser is my favorite (even after my German beer experience). Thats right. Budweiser. The original, not the crappy American version. Pilsner Urquell is also amazing. So, go to the Czech Republic, definitely. The country is beautiful - the train ride to Berlin was by far the prettiest - the beer is delicious, and the locals are lovely, if you can find them. But spend only one day in Prague and the rest of your time elsewhere. Unless, of course, you like amusement parks.

Budapest. Really, what else can I say? The name rings with glamor and age, beauty and grime, Europe and the East. And the city doesn't disappoint. One of my favorites, definitely. I arrived after a short three and a half hour jaunt from Vienna ready for a full day at the famous thermal baths of the historic city.  After checking into my hostel in Pest, run by an eager to please and neat-freaky, Korean guy, I headed out down one of Budapest's famous boulevards, Andrassy Blvd. Zoe had tipped me off to visiting the Szechenyi Baths in the city park (Pest) which is at the very end of the street. Its the only outdoor and the only mixed gender bath in the city. And it is astoundingly beautiful. Right in the middle of the park, surrounded by green trees and blue sky sits the huge yellow building fitted with sculptures, domes, elaborate windows, the works. Inside (outside, really, in the courtyard) are three huge pools, each at different temperatures hovering around 37 degrees celcius, with fountains and jets everywhere. Tons of people were there, but it never felt crowded. Inside the building are locker rooms, cabins, saunas and even more pools. I spent the rest of the day there.

Budapest is where I started smoking cigarettes. Maybe its because Europeans make smoking look cool, I dont know, but one day I craved one and no one had any so I had to get a whole pack. Then I had to finish it. Then I got another cause man do they help you sleep. But don't worry, I stopped in Berlin. Hooray for being mentally stronger than nicotine.

The next day I went to the biggest synagogue in Europe, 2nd biggest in the world. It was... disappointing. It was basically a church. Designed by a Catholic for a very reform branch of Judaism, it looked like a cathedral, and had been rebuilt after some form of destruction that I don't remember. I also had to pay to go in which sucked. It was pretty though. I also tried to do a little digging in the archives to find out if any of my relatives were members, as my mothers side of the family comes from Budapest., but they were closed. So were the archives in the orthodox synagogue. At 11:30am on a Tuesday. Fuck.

After that disappointment, I walked to the river. And wow did that change my mood. Budapest is, quite possibly, the prettiest city I've seen. The famed Buda hills roll down the river as far as you can see cluttered at times (at others dotted) with magnificent red-roofed buildings while church steeples puncture their way out of the city. One of the hills, the biggest and closest to the river, has a bunch of castles on it. Another has Buda Castle and upon reaching the top, you can see the rest of Buda spread out behind it. Incredible. Pest is also pretty, with the gorgeous Parliament building dominating that side of the river. I had lunch on the river, ducked into a few cafes, and managed to swing back around to the big synagogue for a night view (mostly because I had to check my pocketknife and I forgot about it when I left).

Two American girls checked into my small hostel that night, Regan (pronounced Reagan, seriously) and Rachel. We polished off a few bottles of cheap, 1 euro wine in the hostel and had a good time. The next morning the three of us went to Budapest's biggest market, and I managed to get us lost on the way. We walked around for a while, then went our separate ways for the day. The market was amazing. Huge, indoors, and filled with produce, meats, cheeses, breads, everything delicious. Upstairs there were some cafeteria style point-at-a-big-bucket-of-Hungarian-food-cause-you-dont-know-what-its-called restaurants. I ate lunch and dinner there. Amazing food.

After the market I went up to Buda Castle and Castle Hill, which I hadn't visited the day before. It was good that I hadn't because I got the best views on the most beautiful of days. Back at the hostel, two more chicks, Sara and someone else (I'm so bad with names) had checked in and they were much cooler than the first two, so that night the three of us got some more cheap wine and had a better time.

I decided to leave for Prague the next day. I should have stayed longer.

Vienna was... big. The old city was the biggest I've visited to date. And the Danube, well, when you get to the Danube, its not the Danube. It's a canal from the river snaking its way next to the old city. The actual river is another 30 minutes away on foot. But once you get there its GORGEOUS. The buildings are also huge. Gigantic. Get-blisters-from-walking-around-them big. If you go inside, though, you have to walk around the whole building because you probably paid 10 euro to get in. Vienna is a most expensive city. Fortunately, I had a place to stay.

Before leaving on my European odyssey, word spread though the family grapevine of my impending adventure. Turns out I had a relative living in Vienna. To be perfectly honest, Vienna was not on my original itinerary, but that changed with this new information. My relative is my mom's cousin's daughter, Zoe, who I'd never met or heard of. I sent her an email and she instantly offered me a place to stay. Gotta love family.

I arrived in Vienna early in the morning after my overnight train from Krakow, met Zoe for about 10 minutes before she had to be off for work. I settled into my cozy new diggs, a double bed in an awesome apartment on a quiet street just outside the old city (easily the best place I've stayed so far), took a nap, then headed out. I was tired and didn't feel like being a tourist so I left the camera at home, walked around the old city, ate soup, drank coffee, and came back home. Later, Zoe and I went out for dinner and got to know each other better.

The next day was tourist day. The Hapsburg palace was first up, and its pretty incredible. Huge, marble, shiny, and intricate.

Part of it is a university library and they wouldn't let me in. The rest is a museum filled with Greek stuff from Ephesus, arms (the metal kind, not the limb kind), and old musical instruments. I guess the Hapsburgs were mild collectors. Then I went to the center of the city where theres a bigass cathedral, after which I discovered just how far away the Danube was. I didn't actually make it there. Instead I went to Prater Park and didn't rent a bike cause it was too expensive. The park is a huge, beautiful green area just across the Danube canal. Amusement parks, restaurants, bike paths... the works. After the park I went to the bigass art museum and saw a huge Egyptian collection (awesome), a Roman collection (yeah), and some classical paintings (which I don't really get or like) including a few Rembrandts (ok, he's good). Not a bad day.

I told Zoe I was into hiking and she recommended I go through the vineyards just outside the city, so thats what I did the next day. And boy was she right. Just beautiful neighborhoods and houses scattered across beautiful, hilly country. It was cloudy and grey, but still gorgeous. And best of all, Austrians enjoz wine with their hiking, so many of these vineyards are open for wine tasting. I stopped at one and had some delicious local wine while demonstrating my complete lack of knowledge of the subject to the owner of the huge vineyard. We had a few laughs and I got a bit tipsy. Austrians sure know how to hike.

After a delicious homecooked breakfast of french toast and french-pressed coffee prepared by my host, Zoe and I took a walk down to the Nascht(?) Markt, or snack market of you know Yiddish. It was a huge open-air market near the old city filled with delicious local foods and fleas (get it? there was also a flea market). I loooove markets. I bought bread, hummus, peppers stuffed with cheese, and brie for way too much money, and I headed for the Danube. I took the subway this time, to the long, skinny island in the middle of the river. Its a spectacularly beautiful river. I stayed there for a long time. There were swans.

The next day was the best day of my trip so far. I woke up early and took a train (Austrian trains are awesome) to Melk, a small town on the Danube, about an hour West of Vienna. Its a pretty touristy town but I got there before all the rest of them, so it was quiet and beautiful. People come here because of the river and the Abby. Stift Melk, as its called, is a huge monestary sitting atop a cliff over the town. Its amazing, mostly for the views from the top. After that I walked around for an hour trying to find a place to rent a bike cause the information center was closed and the guy at the train station told me where to go but after i couldnt find it told me he actually didn't know where to go. I finally found a hotel that I could rent from. I rode along the river for about 20 km, through tiny towns, meadows, and fields surrounded by gorgeous green mountains until I arrived in the town of Spitz. There I stopped for lunch at a Hariger, which is the home a local vinyard owner turned restaurant with tables set up outside. I sat down with an older couple from Linz and they helped me order from the German menu. I had the house wine and some cheese spreads. Just amazing. We chatted for a while and they paid for one of my glasses of wine. Wonderful people. At the second Hariger I went to I had more wine and some cake. I could have Hariger-hopped all day like my friends from Liz, but I was full and I had to get back to Melk to return the bike. I was going to ride back on the other side of the river so I asked my server (the owner) where the next bridge was. "Theres no bridge here," he replied, "only in Melk or Krems" which was another 20 km up the road. How wonderful, in a completely non-sarcastic way. 40 km between bridges, and I'm used to cities with four or more just downtown. Its nice to be in a place where rivers are respected, especially one as beautiful as the Danube.

I returned home just as Zoe was preparing dinner. We ate pasta, talked, and I think bonded in the way family should. Pretty much the best day ever.

Next Week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Hungary? I'd like some Pest with a dash of Buda.

ps. sorry for the lack of pictures. I'll change that when I get to a computer that can handle it, but I'm getting too far behind to wait for that.

Before leaving Korea I got in touch with a friend of a friend who lives in Krakow. He met me at the train station and my five amazing days in Poland were off to a great start. We went for a get-to-know-you beer in one of the cities many, many bars, before going to the most incredible restaurant ever. It was a higher end "milk bar" or Polish style cafeteria. I asked my host to order for me and it was one of the best meals of my life. Polish white borscht with mashed potatoes and sausage (my new favorite dish) and beef goulash over fried mashed potatoes. Needless to say I went back there several times.


The next day was a little rainy, but I went out and explored the old town and Wawel Castle (remember that name). Did the usual cafe hopping and I walked around the park surrounding the city which replaced the city walls when they were torn down. The old city is pretty small, relative to what I've seen since, but it has the largest town square in Europe. And its beautiful.


On Saturday I went to services again. This one was in a tiny synagogue in Kazimirez, the Jewish Quarter, which, outside of the synagogues is completely and ridiculously touristy. Not that it gets a whole lot of visitors, but the restaurants and shops are all jewish-themed which is silly because only about 100 Jews still live in Krakow. I headed back to the old town after the service and met Chris from Iowa in a cafe. He had lived in Krakow for 3 years and we spent the rest of the day walking around the city, into churches and one of the oldest universities in Europe. Then, at night, we stumbled upon a concert in the center square. It was in preparation for the President's funeral the next day.


For those of you who don't know, the President of Poland, Lech Kaczynski, along with 90 others including almost every high ranking member of the armed forces and the chairman of the national bank, died in a plane crash over Russia in the 2nd week of April. Krakow, being the old capital, was where the funeral was to be held. This was a very controversial decision because of where the government decided to bury the president. Wawel Castle (remember?) is where the royal family plus many of Poland's great historical figures are interred. Lech Kaczynski would be the first president to be buried there, and many felt he was undeserving. There were protests, mild ones as its not easy to protest in the wake of someone's death (yeah, I'm awesome). But the town was a-buzz with discussion. It was definitely an exciting time to be in Krakow. Anyway, I had to go to the funeral. I camped out in a good spot at about 10am - I didn't really have anything else to do cause everything was closed - and waited until 5pm when the procession came by, from the town square up to Wawel castle. A smaller crowd than expected showed up, just like in Warsaw, but I couldn't tell from where I was sitting. It was quiet, somber, and full of tourists like me hoping to catch a glimpse of a moment rarely seen in any country.


There, sitting in my spot, oddly enough, I met a nice Polish girl named Anya. (By the way, I just love having to start every conversation with "Do you speak English." Ugh, I feel so stupid doing that.) Now,  I don't normally pick up women at funerals, but we talked for a while, about the Prez and other things, and went out for drinks after the ceremony, when they started serving alcohol again - no partying on funeral day.

The next day Auschwitz happened. Read about it. Then, in an Auschwitz haze, I spent the rest of the day with Anya and her roommates, Marta (Marrrrrrrta, for all those Arrested Development people out there) and Litka. The river is beautiful at night.

My last day in Poland was pretty lazy, recovering from a few nights of very little sleep. I did check out the big synagogue in the Jewish quarter and I had a lovely dinner, again at the Milk Bar with my Krakovian friend of a friend, Karol, again having the white borscht and beef goulash. Just incredible. Then I boarded the overnight train for Vienna.

Summary time. Yeah, Krakow was amazing. Easily my favorite place out of everywhere I've visited, before or since. The people were wonderful, the town was beautiful and small, plenty of awesome and interesting bars and cafes (at least 400 in the old town, literally, and most of the bars were underground in these like four hundred year old buildings which was completely and ridiculously cool), I got to see an incredible cultural/political event, and experience awesome history. Oh yeah, and the girl was a huge bonus. Not really much more I could ask for. Krakow: I want to live to there.

Next week on Planes Trains and Wagons East: Vienna and the Hapsburgs - If you build it (bigger) they will come.

And we're back...

I arrived in Lviv at 5:30am after eight hours on the train sitting across from a gorgeous Ukranian woman. She spoke great English and gave me tea and beer. Definitely the most pleasant train ride I've had. After checking into my hostel I decided to head to the town square and watch the town wake up.


Four hours later I realized that this town was on a different schedule than I'm used to. Around 9am People began trickling out of their apartments, opening up their shops and cafes, and piling into the trams (I love trams) to get to work. During those four hours I walked over to a beautiful cemetery I had read about. It was closed, not surprisingly, but I went in anyway cause I'm a tourist and I don't know any better (I did, but I can act clueless). The oldest grave I saw was frm 1779.


After the graveyard I went searching for the local synagogue, as has become customary in every city I visit. The one here was in horrible shape, and a nice old lady I met explained to me that the roof had been torn off a couple of years ago by a strong wind and only recently had they raised enough money to fix it, so the inside was in bad shape. Not to mention it was used as a stable for horses during the war.


Next up was a hike to High Castle, where there is no castle, but a spectacular view over the city. It's a much bigger city than it seems, especially if you keep to the old city.


Later I met a couple of guys, Frederick from France and Robin from Austria, in my hostel who were going out to a bar and I decied to join them. It was a really cool, kitschy old bar where the bouncer says something like "Glory to Ukraine" and you have to respond "Geroyim Slava" or, "Glory to the people." Inside was a lively group of locals, and later, some lively music to which everyone sang along. We met a couple Ukranian girls there. I made it back to the hostel around 4am.


Needless to say, the next day I was pretty exhausted. Good thing I had a cafe day planned. I hopped around from one cafe to another, each having its own theme and unique atmosphere, along with (what I've learned since moving West) cheap coffee. Halfway through the day I met up with Frederick who joined my cafe hopping. We ate dinner at this awesome Ukranian cafeteria. I left for Krakow the next morning at 7:30.


And that was my Lviv experience. For a big city it has a surprisingly small, laid back feel, which was just what I needed after all those trains and all those huge cities. The coffee was good, the beer and vodka were cheap, and the people were lovely. I'm very glad I got a chance to see Ukraine's second city. It is definitely a special place.

Next week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Krakow - All it's cracked up to be?

I don't really know if I'm ready to write about this. Maybe because I haven't had enough time to reflect, maybe because I'm having so much fun traveling that the somber feeling doesn't last. Maybe because it will never be written about the way it should be. But I will try.

Preface: Disturbing stuff to follow. The first word of the first paragraph will give you a little indication.

2nd Preface: I did this yesterday, and I had to write about it now while it's fresh in my mind. I will resume proper chronology at the next post.

Auschwitz. I used to think the name was enough. Enough to visualize, to think about, even to understand the tragic extent of the Holocast. Enough to cloud eyes with mourning, conversations with sadness, and days with loss. I was wrong. At least my image was, my thoughts were. I realized that as soon as I arrived.

First of all, tourists suck. That place should be open to one person or one family at a time, free to walk in silence. Instead, most people go in huge groups on guided tours. Needless. Talking has no effect there. Neither do facts. We all know the facts, most of them anyway. The staggering numbers, the names, the dates. But we don't hear them or feel how close they are to us, how real they are. The only sound in that place should be the rocks grinding under your feet. The only movement, you and your thoughts. Sometimes, though, from across the camp, the lines of tour groups marching in step across the grounds show you what it may have been like when prisoners were there... with brightly colored clothing, sunglasses, and digital cameras.

The camp is now a museum. Officially the "Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum." Many of the former barracks have been turned into exhibition halls. A few show the Holocaust experience from the perspective of different countries, while others show prison life and "evidence of crimes." The evidence are huge piles of everyday items. Eye glasses, dishes, combs, suitcases, shoes (adult and child), and perhaps most disturbing, equipment of the disabled. Just in piles.

Auschwitz itself is quite small. It would take maybe 20 minutes to walk around the whole camp if there was nothing to see. I decided to make two rounds: one without and one with a camera. The infamous gateway with the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" (work makes you free) came at me so fast I didn't think it was real. It doesn't look real in color, against green grass and a blue sky. I walked around slowly, guideless, aimless, trying to listen. After viewing the piles of evidence, I sat down in a grassy yard between the barracks and ate a simple lunch of bread, cream cheese, and jelly. Imagine. This was not a place for a Jewish man. This was not a place to sit or eat or relax. But here I was. A testament to my people, my culture, and our courage. Sometimes life is a struggle between good and evil, right and wrong. Rarely is it so clear who is who and what is what. But we are good. We are right. And we won. I am proof.

But we also lost. It was at that moment that I became terrified. This camp was built for me. This was a place for a Jewish man, for all Jewish men. I was to die. Eventhough I was not alive, I was a gleam in the eye of the Furher. He knew I was coming and he couldn't let that happen. Millions died to ensure I would not live. The weight of so many people is on the shoulders of every Jewish person now living. It is not a burden or a responsibility, but a reminder. A reminder that this can happen. That there is evil in the world, and that you can always be a target. All you can do is try to be at peace at that moment. I savored every bite of my sandwich.

On that day I did one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. Like so many Jews before me, I walked into a gas chamber. I knew I was going to come out, but that did not make it any easier. As I got closer, every step screamed "I can't do this, I can't do this. I have to do this." I was alone, but I was in line. Marching with my people. I walked through the door that so many people would never see opened again. Inside were the furnaces, and the pipes, and the chimney. Silence. I couldn't move. There were too many of us. The door was open and I found myself outside again.

Auschwitz. No longer an image.

If Auschwitz was disturbing, Birkenau was terrifying. Much, much bigger than Auschwitz, Birkenau was where the crematorium and most of the gas chambers were. Where people came to die. Most of the buildings were in ruins. There is one train track to the camp, and it goes through the main gate. At the other end of the camp, it stops. Trains came here for one purpose. They came full of people and left, empty, on the same tracks. The "selection platform," where the people were unloaded, is gigantic. 70% went to the gas chambers upon arrival. I walked its length twice, again, just listening.

I don't really know if I was ready to write about this. I don't have much to say really. No lessons or pleas or statements, hopes or illusions about war and peace, or ideological definitions hardened by reality.What I know is this: I left Auschwitz more unsure about life than I've ever been. About fear, religion, purpose, truth, everything. I also left Auschwitz more sure about my life than I've ever been. I know I'm living how I'm supposed to, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to, and I know wherever I go from here, I will enjoy it.

I also know that you (yes, you) have to go to Auschwitz.

Post-face: No other pictures on this post because, again, not easy stuff to look at. Proceed to the photo album if you wish.

Europe! Oh, sweet Europe. I can't tell you how excited I was to finally be in Kiev. Hostels a-plenty, public trashcans, good beer, plentiful coffee, western toilets, interesting architetcture... Kiev did not disappoint. I booked a hostel online and, after a good 45 minutes of trying to find the place, set my bags down in a lovely, quiet place run by three wonderful Ukranian girls. I arrived at 3pm, utterly exhausted, but I figured I shouldn't waste what was left of the day. I walked around the city a bit, marveling at the colorful buildings, looking for something I hadn't seen in 6 months: a synagogue. I found it easily enough, had a look around, and decided to come back the next morning (saturday) for services.


Back at the hostel I met my new roommates, Colin and Josh from Missouri and Seattle respectively.


Josh let me play his guitar, which I hadn't done since a week before leaving Korea. Later, Colin and I went out to see some live Ukranian rock music at a local bar. The beer and tunes were great, the honey and pepper vodka was cheap and harsh. Still, I managed to get to bed early, and I had a good nights sleep, finally, on a comfortable bed.


The next day I woke up and went to services. Geez, I haven't done that since I was 13 years old. It was pretty amazing. I'm not religious at all, but I have a very strong connection with the Jewish community, culture, and heritage. Nothing in my six months abroad was as comforting as walking into that synagogue on Saturday morning. It was as close to home as I'd been since I left. I knew the people, I knew the songs, I even remembered some of the words. I knew the dovenning and the mumbling and the big, bushy beards (I definitely fit in). I'm not religious at all, but it was comforting to be in the presence of those who were, of those who came before me and those who will come after me, of the traditions that connect us all, no matter where we come from or what we believe.

After the service I took a walk around the city. Through parks, green and gorgeous; cathedrals, clean and colorful; up and over hills with fantastic views of the city.


I stumbled upon this amazing stree lined with paintings by local artists.


I followed it for a long while to a gorgeous church perched high above the city, then down a winding cobblestone road back to town. Then, stopping along the main street to sit on a bench and listen to some street jazz, I ran into Colin again. For a city of 2 million, its pretty small. Not really, its a sprawling metropolis, its just the old city that's small, and that's where I spent my time. Anyway, we had some dinner and headed back to the hostel.

Before coming to Kiev there were three things I knew I wanted to see there. One was Chernobyl. Tours cost in the €120 range, which was way too expensive for me, so I decided to pass on that. Besides, I don't really need the radiation. The second was Babi Yar, site of one of the first and one of the largest mass killings of Jews during the second world war.


Today its a park, with a few monuments remembering those kiilled. Unfortunately there's not much to see, or even to feel. Even that feeling of something terrible happened here never came to me. Whether its denial or acceptance, forgetting or moving on, the people of Kiev have turned this blood-soaked ravine into a tranquil place for a Sunday stroll. Not at all what I was expecting, but really everything I could have hoped for. A real and complete transition from war to peace. Oh, and I had the best pizza I've ever had for dinner.

The third thing I wanted to see was the Lavra Monastery. Built originally underground in the 11th century, over the next few centuries this compound evolved into a sanctuary for gorgeous churches.


The caves dug by the first monks became their tombs, which you can delve into if you please. I did, and it was one of the more thrilling, creepy, and strange experiences I've had. There were two almost pitch black passageways underground, each with small santctuaries, rooms where the monks lived, and narrow halls linking them all together. Lining the walls were the coffins of the clergy (the flash really takes away the creepy atmosphere). Above ground, the churches were beautiful and the scenery fantastic. I spent most of the day there before boarding the train in the evening.


While I was in Kiev I found out that the route to Krakow requires a train change in Lviv, Ukraine's "most beautiful city." So I decided to end my stay in Kiev a little early and spend some time there.

Next week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Lviv - Ukraine's most beautiful city?

Beijing has four train stations. Four gigantic train stations. My train left from the West Beijing Railway Station. It was there that I made my first big mistake of this trip. I booked the cheapest ticket I could get. The infamous "hard seat." I decided to skip two of my planned stops in China because, well, after six months in Asia I was ready to leave. So, the ride was from Beijing to Urumqi, the largest city in the Xinjang province of China, and it took 42 hours. These were the longest 42 hours of my life. Theres a lot of people in China so, naturally, the trains are crowded. Especially the cars with the cheap seats. Some people even stood for the entire trip. Not to mention the fact that no one checks their bags. After the overhead racks were filled and bags were shoved under seats and tables, they began setting the bags on our headrests and tying them to coat hooks on the walls.


My seat was softer than the "hard" label implies, but still extremely uncomfortable. Four people were situated around a tiny table, knees touching, practically unable to move. For 42 hours. The girl next to me was nice enough, but the couple across the table were difficult. They brought along their one year old baby.

Let me tell you something about Chinese babies. They don't wear diapers. They wear crotch-less pants so they get used to squatting for the wonderful squat toilets in China. Back in Beijing Sara and I had discussed this phenomenon. We understood how it could be effective outside, but we didn't understand how it functions indoors. Turns out its just the same as outside: babies piss and shit whereever, whenever. On a train. For 42 hours. Also, everyone smokes on the train. They crowd near the smoking section but inevitably they spill out into the main part of the car. For 42 hours. Each stop lasted maybe 10 minutes, but the line to get off the train for a smoke - or in my case just a break from the madness - was so long that I only had about two minutes to breathe the fresh (polluted) air and jump around a bit. I lived for those two minutes. The scenery also left much to be desired. Endless grey city or endless brown desert, with a few desert mountains sprinkled in. A couple of times I wasn't sure I was going to make it, but I did, and now I've got a great story to tell.


Upon arriving in Urumqi, I immediately went to buy a ticket to Kazakhstan and ensure a seat on the next leg of my journey. I wanted to go to Almaty, but as it turns out the railway south was closed due to snow. So I had to go to Astana. And the once-weekly train to Astana left at midnight the following day. No way was I going to stay in Urumqi for a week, so I got the ticket... this time, a sleeper.

I spent the rest of that day and the next walking around Urumqi. Another typical Asian city: loud, dirty, polluted, crowded.


But a few places had some serious charm. I found a few beautiful mosques, and the Xinjang Museum of Regional Autonomy was pretty interesting, with cultural displays of the many, many different people who live in this part of China, as well as a few desert mummies found nearby.


The "People's Park" was also really interesting with live Chinese folk music, kite flyers, and, believe it or not, trees.


An hour before my next train left I got sick, most likely from the previous train ride (China doesn't have any hand sanitizer). I was sooo happy to have a sleeper. For 38 hours. I also met a really nice Kazakh girl named Aliya who invited me to stay with her in Karganda, but I just felt too sick and I needed some time to recover. I shared my room with two nice Kazakh's, Ale and Sergei, mother and son, who only spoke Russian.


I tried to learn a Russian card game with Sergei but I couldn't get the hang of it. The rest of the time I slept and felt generally horrible. For 38 hours. Not much to look at outside on this ride either. Once the desert ended the steppe began and it was endless flatland with the dead grass of winter. But oh my god there was a sunset without the haze of pollution. I hadn't seen one of those for a while.


In Astana I wanted to accomplish two things: get better, and get a Russian transit visa. I spent two days in my hostel in the train station reading, eating when I could, and sleeping. The third day I ventured out to get my Russian visa which cost a fortune. While waiting I walked around the city with a really nice German guy I met at the hostel and had some delicious Kazakh food because I could finally eat again. Astana is a very pretty and very new city. Also very wealthy.


Russian visa in hand, I boarded the train for Kiev, Ukraine the next day.


I was finally ready to enjoy the train ride. Again I had a sleeper, and I was the only one in my compartment which slept 4. For 72 hours. Mostly steppe out the window again, until we got to the rolling hills of Russia.


But Russia brought a set of problems. When I got to the border with Russia the Kazakh border officials told me, what I already knew, that the train left Kazakhstan, went to Russia, came back into Kazakhstan for 200km, then back to Russia, then Ukraine. I told this to the embassy in Seoul and they said a single entry visa was fine. The border officials said I would have to get off the train at the next border crossing. They said they could help if I gave them money. I didn't have much cash so I said no.

During this time I met another German guy who was the only other person on the train who could speak English. He seemed nice enough, told me he'd rode this train many times and that often bribes are necessary. He lent me a bit of money just in case I needed it at the next border. Before we reached the border I befriended some Russian officials who were riding the train by giving them some "souveniers" (a pen from America, and one from Korea). I don't know if it was with their help or not, but there were no problems at any of the borders from there on. Speaking of border crossings, they all happen between midnight and 4am, and they take several hours.


Its very scary to be woken up by large men in uniform demanding to see your passport.

Later on this German guy started to give me the creeps. He talked about how Polish people were horrible theives, and so were Ukranians. I helped him with his bags in the train station once we got to Kiev (he had like 5 huge bags for some reason) but I was happy to be rid of him.

Anyway, 72 hours later I arrived in Kiev, exhausted, hungry (I didn't bring quite enough food), and with a head full of Daniel Quinn's thought provoking views on life, as his book My Ishmael kept me good company on the train. That's right folks, one hundred and fifty hours of trains in one and a half weeks. I couldn't wait to get to Europe, and now that I'm here, I couldn't be happier.

True to my word, I left Seoul on a boat headed for Tianjin, and my much talked about journey had begun. Towards the end of my stay in Korea I was seriously questioning my desire to avoid flying, especially considering my only real phobia is of large bodies of water. But, I put my head down, powered through, bought a ticket, and boarded a huge motherfucking boat for China. It was everything I had hoped for. Nice beds, a smooth ride, time to relax and reflect on time well spent on the other side of the world. And the sea is beautiful. At night, when it was ear-numbingly cold, I went out on the deck and saw complete blackness, except for a few dots of light on the horizon and the wake of the boat.


We also sailed under the longest bridge in the world, the Incheon Bridge, completed just a few months ago. Very cool.


When I got to Tianjin I boarded a bus to Beijing. I thought the ride would take an hour or so, but it ended up taking three. Once in Beijing, I managed to negotiate a taxi ride and by nightfall I had met up with my step-sister Sara, her husband Petri, and their 2 year old son, Emil. They live in a really cool studio where Sara is getting schooled on architecture. One of her classmates put me up in a hotel room he wasn't using in their village. The village, Cao Chang Di was easily the coolest part of Beijing for me. A small village on the outskirts of the city, Cao Chang Di is home to a thriving arts community along with a hard working local community trying to avoid being sucked up into the gigantic vacuum cleaner that is Beijing. I spent a few days biking around the area, eating at the small restuarants, hanging out with Sara, Petri, and their friends, and soaking up the lifestyle.


Petri showed me a really great view of the city from the top of a landfill, where we also found many kids playing. In the village at the foothills of this landfill I had one of the best meals of my life, and I got it simply by pointing blindly at a Mandarin menu.


Right next to Cao Chang Di is the center for contemporary art in the arts center of China: 798. 798 was at one time a factory complex, and now houses the most intense consentration of art galleries I've ever seen. I spent a whole day walking around the place and I'm sure I didn't even hit half of the galleries. I find most contemporary art to be strange and silly, but there was also some really cool stuff there.


One of my days I spent with Petri and Emil walking around Tianamen Square. It's not that easy with a two year old, but aside from the incredible scale of the place and the awe-inspiring feeling I got from standing in front of the seat of government of the biggest and most powerful country in the world, it was relatively unimpressive.


The National Museum of China was closed, and the Forbidden City, while gigantic, is not so very different from many of the temples I saw in Korea. Though, if you were going to visit only one, I'd say this is the one to see. Also, there are so many reasons to call it the "Forbidden City." First, locals have to show their passports to get in and some were denied entry. Second, theres like 4 gates to get through before you're in the city itself. Third, theres so many people there that you can barely move. Fourth, the ticket office is no where close to the entry way and its not easy to find. I could go on, but I won't. This is how I've found most of the touristy stuff in (developed) Asia: too many visitors and not enough satisfaction.


The Great Wall was different. It is one of the few places I've seen that has lived up to its billing. Of course, that may be because I didn't go to the touristy part. Theres about 6 sections to choose from around Beijing, and I chose the furthest from the city. After I found the bus station, thanks to the help of two German guys, a mini-bus driver picked me out of the crowd and asked if I was going to Simatai, which was the section of the wall I wanted to see. Two hours later I was climbing a ridiculously steep section of the Great Wall, unrestored, and with very few tourists.


The views were stunning, even in winter, and the scale of the wall was amazing, exciting, terrifying, and... confusing. There was no way this wall could hold up against an assault. It merely added 10 or so feet to the tops (and bottoms) of 2000 meter high mountains, making them essentially 2003 meters tall with semi-flat places for soldiers to stand. Effective or not, that anyone could construct this thing is absolutely astounding.


My impressions of Beijing were mixed. It is a huge city with an incredible number of people, many of them extremely wealthy and many of them extremely poor. The city itself I did not like. Too big, too many people, too much pollution. Basically its your typical developed Asian city, and I had had enough of that in Korea. Once you step outside the fifth ring road, though, it gets interesting and fun. The small villages give an insight into what I think is, or what used to be, real China, and I am so glad to have stayed in one of the last remaining vestiges of that culture in Beijing.

Next week on Plains, Trains, and Wagons East: The Hard Seat - Curse, or Death Curse?

Real Time Update: I've just arrived in Lviv, Ukraine after four wonderful days in Kiev.

Ok, first of all, apologies all around. My last week in Korea was extremely hectic. Combine that with the fact that China and Kazakhstan do not like blogging, and you have a long stretch of inactivity on what I assume is the most interesting thing you've ever read. I'm sure its been tough, but its all over now. I'm in Kiev, Ukraine and I can blog again.

So let's catch up.

My last week in Korea was incredible, for so many reasons. I went out with friends almost every night to celebrate and/or mourn my departure. It's a great feeling to see different people every night and know that you have amazing friends who will miss you as much as you will miss them. And I know it won't be the last time I see most of these folks... I'll make sure of that.

Also, in the social arena, I met an awesome Korean girl named Sunny. We hit it off and spent a lot of time together during my last week. I kinda wish I had met her earlier on, but at the same time, we both knew the score and it made our time together that much more gratifying.

And then there's the kids. It's hard saying goodbye to one thousand kids. Although I think its easier than saying goodbye to just a few. Either way, my last week at work consisted of the usual parade of classes, but this time, everytime, I had to say goodbye. Every class had a few students that I knew well and it was tough to say goodbye to them. There were so many shocked a disappointed faces (the Korean teachers made me wait to tell the students I was leaving until our last class together). When the class ended, after I had taken pictures, there were hugs. Lots of hugs. I never realized how much the kids liked me. As sad as it was, it was also the most gratifying experience of this entire Korea experiment, and I had it 6 times a day for a week. Pretty cool.

Other than that, my last week was pretty normal. Packing, booking tickets, saying goodbye to teachers, getting supplies for my 3 month trip... you know, the usual.

It was a strange feeling leaving Korea. The fact that my last week was so amazing made it much more difficult. That, along with intense emotions across the entire spectrum, made me second guess my decision to leave. But now that I'm gone I know I made the right decision. I'm going to remember and miss Korea, my kids, and my friends for the rest of my life.

One of the worst feelings I've ever experienced is the feeling that you've left a part of yourself somewhere far away. One of the best feelings I've ever experienced is the feeling that there is a part of yourself alive somewhere far away, somewhere you can visit whenever you want if you just close your eyes.

This is usually the part where I make fun of the fact that people were worried about me going, cause I'm generally an asshole to people who care about me, but strangely enough I don’t have to do that this time. Not because it was dangerous and the worries were justified – the complete opposite in fact. South Koreans, the people who live in the shadow of the most heavily fortified border in the world, many within a few kilometers (Seoul of 10 million people within 50 km), did all the making fun for me. I went with a meet-up group of fellow foreigners, and upon arrival at our first stop along the DMZ, found a relaxed atmosphere and an amusement park. That’s right. An amusement park. No one was using it, of course – why come to the DMZ for a roller coaster – but it was there, not 100 meters from the fence. Along the fence we saw a grand total of two soldiers in a guard post. This place, mind you, is where the only train entering the DMZ from South Korea travels across “Freedom Bridge.” This was the touristy area and, fortunately, not our only destination.


The next stops showed more of what makes this area one of the tensest in the world. We went inside two tunnels supposedly dug by the North Koreans after the armistice in an attempt to launch an invasion if necessary. Four such tunnels have been discovered along the DMZ, each of which are capable of funneling 30,000 troops into/out of North or South Korea per hour. It is strongly believed that more tunnels are out there.


Inside these tunnels I learned the most valuable lesson of the day: Hard hats work wonders. Those Koreans that dug the tunnels were quite short, and I was forced to trek through the tunnels hunched over. My back still hurts. Of course I still managed to crunch my hard hat against the rock many, many times. My head never hurt.


We also hit a couple of observation towers. One was located at the thinnest part of the DMZ which averages around 4 km in width between the two countries.


From there we could see a North Korean outpost, and through some great binoculars, the shape of a North Korean soldier.


Another stop was an old train station that used to operate along a rail route that would have connected the two Koreas today, but in its day serviced the one and only Korea, under Japanese occupation that is. Near the station were the remains of a train bombed out during the war.


Our last stop was a North Korean “Labor building.” Labor, of course, meaning torture. This building, also bombed out but still standing thanks to some South Korean efforts, was an eerie reminder of the horrors of war. More so than bombed out trains or fully functional tunnels, this building screamed of atrocities as loud as its former inhabitants. Though empty, it has the presence of something horrific. The broken, bullet-riddled stone spoke of terror, the silence in which it stood echoed screams of the past, and the blue sky against which it shone embraced flames of malice emanating from the efficiently organized structure.


This is usually the part where I would comment on the whole North-South situation, the US continued involvement, Bush, Kim Jong-il and the like. But I won’t. I still don’t know enough about what happened and what continues to happen. All I know is that so many people, on both sides of the fence, want the same thing: reunification. And so do I. All Koreans deserve it, and, hopefully, it will happen soon.