tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247202242024-03-06T00:32:44.151+08:00Inverted World: T in ChinaTrenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-29161633911539365122010-03-21T15:42:00.001+08:002010-03-21T15:44:54.861+08:00I'm moving...... to a new website!<br /><br />Come visit me at:<br /><a href="http://www.myinvertedworld.com/">www.myinvertedworld.com</a><br /><br />Cheers,<br />TrentTrenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-31133514795817163512010-02-14T18:02:00.001+08:002010-02-14T18:02:28.230+08:00Having a blast in NZ!<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/4355204279/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4046/4355204279_a2ab40fe6a.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/4355204279/">Having a blast in NZ!</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/trentstrohm/">StrudelMonkey</a>.</span></div><p></p>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-8656137334674177112010-01-31T22:37:00.002+08:002010-01-31T23:24:03.685+08:00Alone in Beijing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4041/4318272588_b15901d731.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4041/4318272588_b15901d731.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Nothing gets the blood flowing like a taxi ride through a rural western district of Beijing on a dark, frigid night. My driver fails to catch the outer reaches of the glow cast by his blood red Hyundai Sonata's headlights ... but I suppose he can't be faulted for not trying. <br /><br />A weekend that began welcoming a friend back to the city on Friday gave way to farewells to others on Saturday. The rotating door of Shanghai is always in motion.<br /><br />Now I find myself alone in Beijing on Sunday. Taxis and airports. Room keys and business cards. <br /><br />The city that flashes by the windows of my taxi is both mysterious and exciting. Lyrics from Andrew Bird's concert on Friday float through my mind...<br /><br /><blockquote>being alone it can be quite romantic<br />like jacques cousteau underneath the atlantic<br />a fantastic voyage to parts unknown<br />going to depths where the sun’s never shone<br />and i fascinate myself when i’m alone</blockquote><br /><br />I stare ahead through the windshield and silently cheer on the driver. Maybe we <span style="font-style:italic;">can</span> outrun the headlights!Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-30213459726920134482010-01-23T09:06:00.006+08:002010-01-23T17:20:33.863+08:00Roots<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg090E7c3tbcGMhtyG45xBnPCd8qlLMruuW1LWwB8OqE6s73CmB8dcK65nUaAIOOSRRzczLGcLH7oKBjP8zhdJrRhOTDs9F0PKE1MiT00-L7TpcNF0ZFk41_f7mxTsP_k621jJh0Q/s1600-h/Col.+Matthew+W.+Busey.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 249px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg090E7c3tbcGMhtyG45xBnPCd8qlLMruuW1LWwB8OqE6s73CmB8dcK65nUaAIOOSRRzczLGcLH7oKBjP8zhdJrRhOTDs9F0PKE1MiT00-L7TpcNF0ZFk41_f7mxTsP_k621jJh0Q/s400/Col.+Matthew+W.+Busey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429735972533610978" /></a><br /><br />Martin was a judge. Jacob was a doctor. Abigail was the mother of 16 kids and Homer worked on the railroad.<br /><br />No, this isn't the cast the newest reality TV show. Its my family.<br /><br />I have chipped away at my family tree over the years, collecting bits and pieces online and filling in the gaps with stories from Grandma. I have never met these people, but their lives fascinate me. Every puzzle piece I put in place brings more questions...<br /><br /><blockquote>What kind of leader was Colonel Strong on the Revolutionary War battlefield? <br /><br />How hard was the decision to leave Germany in the mid-nineteenth century? <br /><br />What went through their minds the first time they caught sight of America?</blockquote><br /><br />I get a laugh out of some of the names that fill the tree. <br /><br /><blockquote>Adonijah<br /><br />Asenath<br /><br />Grover<br /><br />Jedediah<br /><br />Hedwig</blockquote><br /><br />There is even a branch of the tree with names like "Freedom" and "Preserved". Were they seventeenth century patriots or merely hippies of that day? I have no doubt that my ancestors will share a laugh at my expense a couple hundred years down the road ("Trent and Harmony? Who WERE those people??")<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/29/65053798_8d067fd298.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/29/65053798_8d067fd298.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Looking back this far into my family's past makes me realize how <span style="font-style:italic;">incredibly</span> unlikely it is that each of us come to exist. For instance, what if Colonel Strong had <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> made it off that battlefield?<br /><br />My eight-times-great grandfather John Strong set sail from Plymouth, England for America in 1630 with his wife and two sons. At some point during the two month crossing his wife and one son passed away, leaving him and his remaining son to establish themselves in the New Land on their own. He eventually remarried and went on to have 16 children with his new wife. <br /><br />Had his first wife not passed on that trip across the Atlantic, the family tree would have grown in a completely different direction. And I certainly wouldn't be here in Shanghai typing this on my laptop. Is it wrong for me to admit that I am <span style="font-style:italic;">grateful</span> for that tragic turn of events?<br /><br />I think Bill Bryson puts it best:<br /><br /><blockquote>Not only have you been lucky enough to be attached since time immemorial to a favored evolutionary line, but you have also been extremely- make that miraculously- fortunate in your personal ancestry. Consider the fact that for 3.8 billion years, a period of time older than the Earth's mountains and rivers and oceans, everyone of your forbears on both sides has been attractive enough to find a mate, healthy enough to reproduce, and sufficiently blessed by fate and circumstances to live long enough to do so. Not one of your pertinent ancestors was squashed, devoured, drowned, starved, stranded, stuck fast, untimely wounded, or otherwise deflected from it's life quest of delivering a tiny charge of genetic material to the right partner at the right moment in order to perpetuate the only possible sequence of hereditary combinations that could result - evetually, astoundingly, and all to briefly- in you.</blockquote><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfmZL6sqeVqsuj7ACSsWmE07Eh6FP2-6_-HJ-dweC-ZcU36Z9FqpXjXuOOMPydLfj0Tl3ySrb2_6007uvbLOqV2suvQHLep-JmAI6Lt10GLqkhYj5NXnitBnjqNY9TiN_earHDQ/s1600-h/Thomas+Lindsey.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfmZL6sqeVqsuj7ACSsWmE07Eh6FP2-6_-HJ-dweC-ZcU36Z9FqpXjXuOOMPydLfj0Tl3ySrb2_6007uvbLOqV2suvQHLep-JmAI6Lt10GLqkhYj5NXnitBnjqNY9TiN_earHDQ/s400/Thomas+Lindsey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429860173862156258" /></a>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-58275984749130693872010-01-21T21:59:00.000+08:002010-01-21T22:00:17.422+08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3019/2911422046_550f5a7573.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3019/2911422046_550f5a7573.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />“A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner.” <br /><br />~ English ProverbTrenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-23482940967397899712009-12-20T08:58:00.001+08:002009-12-20T09:00:16.982+08:00Christmas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2029/2167830038_7094711e3f.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 336px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2029/2167830038_7094711e3f.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />"Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home!"<br /><br />~ Charles DickensTrenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-53353044332299716362009-12-13T21:07:00.000+08:002009-12-13T21:07:25.780+08:00Manly men doing manly things ... with allen wrenches<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0CyPxcFS136mcAlzZIkwQQqhjdFpJ1OgFWnZ1hibdnTrBlIgAxcM3JCSkthXJ4FofaK5hYj8TXSPoya3e_6JlGB3aKwfN5H_98sskTT71IuDcR2O-dXt2JVA55ip6phcA5U__SQ/s1600-h/Ikea+Furniture+%40+Orphanage1.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0CyPxcFS136mcAlzZIkwQQqhjdFpJ1OgFWnZ1hibdnTrBlIgAxcM3JCSkthXJ4FofaK5hYj8TXSPoya3e_6JlGB3aKwfN5H_98sskTT71IuDcR2O-dXt2JVA55ip6phcA5U__SQ/s320/Ikea+Furniture+%40+Orphanage1.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />The Huixin Orphanage recently received some donated Ikea furnture so they needed some experienced Ikea assemblers to come take care of business. So it was that four of us were called to duty on this grey Sunday afternoon. <br /><br />Rule #1: No instructions allowed<br /><br />Rule #2: Prove your manliness by showing how fast you could wield an allen wrench<br /><br />Mission accomplished<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-65935620953584740502009-12-13T20:48:00.000+08:002009-12-13T20:48:19.031+08:00Bean @ Sunshine Home<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcDfxmcPO3mVKF-oAlcdhCD17noZ9edQJ4CCdETstSmOcMG8JAsSxhlJdcnI9dYt5olpFaY6Zd00U1KFdlL8S3FyjnuUHHYpi2nYvQQVvM1Gn44wZZohO6UtuIHlfdZoVJ2id4Q/s1600-h/Ikea+Furniture+%40+Orphanage.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcDfxmcPO3mVKF-oAlcdhCD17noZ9edQJ4CCdETstSmOcMG8JAsSxhlJdcnI9dYt5olpFaY6Zd00U1KFdlL8S3FyjnuUHHYpi2nYvQQVvM1Gn44wZZohO6UtuIHlfdZoVJ2id4Q/s320/Ikea+Furniture+%40+Orphanage.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />Who cares that we had no idea what we were doing ... we had a fun afternoon of helping the disabled residents of Sunshine Home do calligraphy. After we finished, they gave us bags of cookies for Christmas!<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-12197808496067428162009-12-06T09:52:00.001+08:002009-12-06T09:54:33.408+08:00Bean Environmental Education Day @ ZhenHua SchoolWe had a great time yesterday teaching children of migrant workers about the environment and things we can do to protect it. After a short presentation, we broke out the paint and helped the kids decorate environmental awareness posters and decorate trash bins. Good times!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEEc5B5Ucge2TNZNMr878W9jC_59fkeeqkJcFTgkb1ZdCFDK3U0PHxj2BNNagT5Z5z5buBiGmM9lazFVO06kIV_ppnvdGBBmSvdcg4nLOjjLX7dM-05KBXMPJOO8FvTYArYjd9ng/s1600-h/Bean+Envioronmental+Education+Dec+09.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEEc5B5Ucge2TNZNMr878W9jC_59fkeeqkJcFTgkb1ZdCFDK3U0PHxj2BNNagT5Z5z5buBiGmM9lazFVO06kIV_ppnvdGBBmSvdcg4nLOjjLX7dM-05KBXMPJOO8FvTYArYjd9ng/s320/Bean+Envioronmental+Education+Dec+09.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-61863959909413461342009-11-29T18:17:00.002+08:002009-11-29T18:52:45.642+08:00Wheels & Heels (TM)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2699/4138949267_5b6851ae64.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2699/4138949267_5b6851ae64.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />What do you get when you combine sheet metal, sequins, rubber, palm trees, overpriced food and thousands of camera-toting people? You get the Guangzhou Auto Show<br /><br />I spent a day this week visiting the 7th annual event held in China's southern Guangdong province. Thankfully, unlike the shows I have visited in Shanghai and Beijing, Guangzhou's crowd was surprisingly light. My colleague and I wandered from hall to hall kicking tires and checking out the latest from both Chinese and global manufacturers. I continue to be encouraged by the amount of effort being poured into battery technology and new energy solutions.<br /><br />As with other shows, the Guangzhou show was as much about hype as it is about substance. The female models always seem to attract more attention than the car variety ... and my theory continues to hold true that the amount of clothing the model wears is inversely proportional to the quality of the car they are draped across.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2598/4139713994_e47c502423.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2598/4139713994_e47c502423.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />And speaking of Guangzhou, I was pretty impressed with city itself. Though we didn't get any time to play tourist, the view from taxi window was pretty impressive ... new buildings everywhere, relatively uncongested streets and palm trees dotting the landscape. Its food is known throughout the country as being among the best, so I was glad to sample what it had to offer before we returned to Shanghai.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2731/4138949879_6b266c1ea3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 335px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2731/4138949879_6b266c1ea3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-2941731905871390712009-11-28T10:04:00.003+08:002009-11-28T10:40:03.036+08:00ThankfulOn this Thanksgiving, I am thankful to my wife for agreeing to host a big Shanghai "family" meal ... just like I always wanted! <br /><br />And with over 30 people here for the celebration, I am also thankful for our ayi coming to clean up on Friday<br /><br />Happy Thanksgiving everyone!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtEwcqP9X2GPFw7SNfWjfQt3Fqy4Q6-UAPPoiuKsY2wT2CasXkxBmNXdTCAyeteO6QLMNDhi8b1I5m0OkKRi23rglXncKTIIfGgjPBp7V02kGtWjfTWh0_fdshRtwALfvzSoq2g/s1600/Shanghai+Family+Thanksgiving+2009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtEwcqP9X2GPFw7SNfWjfQt3Fqy4Q6-UAPPoiuKsY2wT2CasXkxBmNXdTCAyeteO6QLMNDhi8b1I5m0OkKRi23rglXncKTIIfGgjPBp7V02kGtWjfTWh0_fdshRtwALfvzSoq2g/s400/Shanghai+Family+Thanksgiving+2009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408978451400285730" /></a>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-15089916229506369092009-11-22T09:24:00.005+08:002009-11-28T09:59:17.290+08:00VisitorsIt is an exciting event here when visitors come to town. It is an opportunity for us to show off the city and our way of life in a strange place. It also gives us a chance to introduce them to our friends here ... and for our friends to hear about what things are like "back home".<br /><br />My parents' time in Shanghai has come and gone all too quickly, but was it was filled with good times and high-adventure. Here's hoping that we can lure them back again next year!<br /><br />At the local Bird, Fish & Insect Market<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZpR9vcGXdDuNTpA0Bh5lzm1iM6MqS9X98zDwQQCTjdgP0YrlIZzTXMrTyx_531ccpuWd8xaSC6d4xVoMn7QnOummGfmmHlEBicb4_CLfpZD88NLmFTxfeTnBylbSHBa5kbj-Ew/s1600/DSCN0129.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZpR9vcGXdDuNTpA0Bh5lzm1iM6MqS9X98zDwQQCTjdgP0YrlIZzTXMrTyx_531ccpuWd8xaSC6d4xVoMn7QnOummGfmmHlEBicb4_CLfpZD88NLmFTxfeTnBylbSHBa5kbj-Ew/s400/DSCN0129.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408964257422716194" /></a><br /><br />Mom & Dad meeting Mao<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC8lqQdfcqJ9JWr6YUgTLjh9BNMGFETLIrnznTtQGyr_pMD5zSI9hCJgNYK1QpFm4MJoSFUH8LLDxYxwwFg4yGfjznxifyKofp5Hj3mYFvrgRbQ27t1HwJfsxE9S6WWB0tvJ7XA/s1600/DSCN0209.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC8lqQdfcqJ9JWr6YUgTLjh9BNMGFETLIrnznTtQGyr_pMD5zSI9hCJgNYK1QpFm4MJoSFUH8LLDxYxwwFg4yGfjznxifyKofp5Hj3mYFvrgRbQ27t1HwJfsxE9S6WWB0tvJ7XA/s400/DSCN0209.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408964715971597378" /></a><br /><br />Snowy day on the Great Wall<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJwl2yfX0sIs3zpAAIcxrOGAN4_R1v7KfQSZDRGIzL1ifBslEIsK1PqU4RiLP9oNGhiz0AViVH5Y8B5utKian85QmixJIyLixnvuV2RXm9OtWwETN2rwmgsTfjaZcLuGPQsCO7A/s1600/DSCN0230.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJwl2yfX0sIs3zpAAIcxrOGAN4_R1v7KfQSZDRGIzL1ifBslEIsK1PqU4RiLP9oNGhiz0AViVH5Y8B5utKian85QmixJIyLixnvuV2RXm9OtWwETN2rwmgsTfjaZcLuGPQsCO7A/s400/DSCN0230.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408967028969275410" /></a>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-51525421769790747312009-10-11T13:42:00.009+08:002009-10-25T08:38:24.251+08:00Trip Report: India<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2609/3997036458_58ee3a039c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2609/3997036458_58ee3a039c.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Remember the first time you peeked under the hood of a car? You found a perplexing mix of steaming pipes, colorful wires and gleaming chrome. It was confusing and fascinating all at the same time. <br /><br />Such is India.<br /><br />With over one billion people and hundreds of regional dialects, perplexing doesn't even begin to describe the country. Add to it a religion of the majority -- Hinduism -- that features literally <span style="font-style:italic;">millions</span> of gods and a geography that spans Himalayan peaks to palm-lined beaches, you get a sense of the vastness that is the sub-continent.<br /><br />We had less than two weeks for our Indian appetizer so we had to be very selective. We chose to focus our time in the northern part of the country, stretching from the northeastern region of Rajasthan to the holy town of Varanasi in the state of Uttar Pradesh. What we found was a country rich in history and steeped in tradition while, at the same time, dealing with globalization and an increasing divide between rich and poor.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2226/3996279655_4f48bd4971_b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2226/3996279655_4f48bd4971_b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />We arrived in New Delhi in the middle of the night and were happy to find our ride into the city waiting for us outside the airport. Under the soft yellow glow of Delhi's street lights, two things became clear on our 30 minute drive into the city: it is a place in transition and there exists a large gap between the 'haves' and the 'have nots'. Construction cranes were in motion in the pre-dawn hours, while shiny new cars cruised under highway overpasses that gave shelter to Delhi's homeless.<br /><br />After a few hours of sleep, we set off to explore the Old Town. The narrow lanes surrounding the Jama Masjid mosque were jammed with people, bicycles, cows and produce. A tangled web of spliced power lines seemed to tie the buildings together overhead. We watched people go about their daily routine from the back of a pedal rickshaw.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3490/3996959626_02266ae6c7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3490/3996959626_02266ae6c7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />At Raj Ghat, we stood at the spot where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated after being assassinated in 1948. A small group of men sat at the foot of the simple black marble memorial and sang quiet songs in his memory<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3489/3996959642_49e90aa113.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3489/3996959642_49e90aa113.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The next morning, we were on the train platform before dawn to catch our train to Agra. The rail station was full of people at such an early hour ... we tiptoed around sleeping bodies and bundled packages, waiting for their ride home. Rats scurried about on the tracks and darted back into sewer pipes at the first sound of our approaching train.<br /><br />From our carriage, we watched the rising sun dance across the city's rooftops as they flashed past the window. The seemingly endless slums on the outskirts of Delhi finally gave way to open green fields dotted with palm trees. As the train attendant came by with hot milk for my corn flakes, I turned my attention to the newspaper. The matrimonial section was particularly interesting, with ads such as...<br /><br /><blockquote>"Well qualified working soul mate required for very handsome Sikh Khatri boy. 30 yrs, 5'-9", MBA, working as Manager in MNC at Chandigarh. Contact with snap, date, place, time of birth."</blockquote><br /><br />Nothing can really prepare you for seeing something like the Taj Mahal in person. No matter how many photos you have seen before, to see the Taj with your own eyes is something else altogether. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2466/3996209765_157c3c14a6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 335px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2466/3996209765_157c3c14a6.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The building almost glowed in the morning sun, helped by its unique translucent marble inlayed with semi-precious stones ... something you don't notice until you see it up close. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2580/3996283891_02649d80eb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2580/3996283891_02649d80eb.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The Taj was built over a period of 22 years with the help of some 20,000 laborers and has been described as the ultimate testament to love. Our guide led us through the dark interior, pointing out the only non-symmetrical part of the monument -- the tomb of Emperor Shah Jahan lays to the side of his wife for whom he had the Taj constructed. In another room, he holds his pen flashlight against the wall to demonstrate its translucence. An inlayed flower made of carnelian glowed a brilliant red against the soft white marble wall. <br /><br />We were pleasantly surprised that Agra was not a one-hit wonder. The nearby Agra Fort towers over banks of the Yamuna River was once a military structure but was eventually transformed into a palace. Further down the river, the Itimad-Ud-Daulah, or Baby Taj, was the first Mughal structure made entirely from marble and featured extensive inlay work.<br /><br />The tradition of dramatic demonstration of love and devotion is still alive in this city. On the way back to the train station, our taxi driver described for us how we spent his free time during the day ... he was in the process of writing the divine name "Sita Ram" 100,000 times in classical Sanskrit to honor his wife.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2463/3996277433_e1bfb853e4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2463/3996277433_e1bfb853e4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The city of Udaipur lies about 200 miles east of the Pakistan border and is in the heart of the region known as Rajasthan. Though I don't agree with those who call it the 'Venice of the East', the city is truly beautiful. The whitewashed buildings of the Old Town line the banks of Lake Pichola. The narrow, twisting roads leading away from the lake were filled with tiny craft and jewelry shops. The town might be most famous for the scenes from the classic Bond film 'Octopussy' that were filmed there.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2494/3996987218_72bcf0a26c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 335px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2494/3996987218_72bcf0a26c.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2534/3996974664_b8fdeb556d.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2534/3996974664_b8fdeb556d.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The lake sparkled at night, reflecting the soft white lights of the Old Town off its oil black surface. We sat atop our guest house eating a meal of tikka, dhal and naan under a star-filled sky and just took it all in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2631/3996993850_d66c2f778d.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2631/3996993850_d66c2f778d.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />As Harmony slept off her shopping hangover, I was out the door at dawn to explore town a little more. Up the street from the Hindu temple, motorbikes converged at the grade school in a cloud of exhaust fumes. Stray dogs still slept on the cool pavement, unfazed by the activity around them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2545/3996226737_b0d74e307b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2545/3996226737_b0d74e307b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2460/3996988066_856954d471.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2460/3996988066_856954d471.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The lake is the center point of daily life in the city, providing water for bathing and cleaning. Before departing on our way east, we took a boat ride on the lake to see the city from a different perspective. Women in brilliantly-colored saris lined the lakeshore steps going about their morning routine.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2510/3997037980_3124c2fe29.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 335px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2510/3997037980_3124c2fe29.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />We hired a car and driver to take us to Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan in the eastern end of the region. The drive would take over eight hours, so we decided to break it up with a stop in the countryside town of Shahpura. We stayed at Shahpura Bagh, a 120 year old garden estate that was formerly the summer home of the rulers of Shahpura. Today, the estate has been converted into a guest house surrounded by a nature preserve. The descendants of the regional royalty still live on the estate and we enjoyed talking with them about the way things were back in the day. A tiger that the family hunted in the surrounding area over 50 years ago was mounted to the wall of the living room.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqrNhXOLq6ZhfZveLvsXDoXxr5ChFVhJtlTN_xfv8xVgAXy53I3j19AnQsyn_WDEiTERQJOVcXRtxXnEGVFnW_QtY7K8_OJyNn-GRGCuw2x_tIAuOSH9j92s97Xks6qIg67AEaw/s1600-h/DSC_1480.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqrNhXOLq6ZhfZveLvsXDoXxr5ChFVhJtlTN_xfv8xVgAXy53I3j19AnQsyn_WDEiTERQJOVcXRtxXnEGVFnW_QtY7K8_OJyNn-GRGCuw2x_tIAuOSH9j92s97Xks6qIg67AEaw/s320/DSC_1480.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396106944219653218" /></a><br /><br />We hurtled down the narrow, single-lane dirt road as the fading sun hung low in front us us. I held the door of the Mahindra jeep closed with my arm as the driver swerved to avoid cows in the road. The dry, flat Rajasthani countryside spread out on either side of us, with the only splashes of color coming from the dress of women walking down the side of the road carrying water on their heads. While Harmony cleaned off another day's dirt and sweat before dinner, I joined one of the men from the house on a ride out to a nearby village and old fort. He drove the jeep like he was being chased by the devil. When cows blocked the road completely, he would give them a long honk of the horn and a gentle nudge from the front bumper.<br /><br />When we arrived in the village, a group of children ran up to me yelling "hello! hello!". Each wanted to shake my hand. The boys touched my feet as a sign of respect, as they would do to a village elder. I was honored! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2437/3996229649_f61de872fc.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 335px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2437/3996229649_f61de872fc.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />We climbed the crumbling steps of what was once an impressive fort that towered over the neighboring farmland. Today, the fort is nothing but an empty shell that is now filled with vegetation. Regardless, we clamored to the top to take in the view of the area from the the lookout tower. We sat there and drank a cup of tea from his thermos as the sun was replaced in the sky by a full moon. The only sound came from the swallows and bats circling overhead. As darkness settled in, we felt our way down the steps and back to the car.<br /><br />The next morning, I watched peacocks, wild pigs and owls in the nature preserve before taking a walk through the village. The town is small but was full of activity. Kids walked to school and farmers set up baskets of produce in the market. The local (camel) leather craftsman wanted me to take a photo of his sons. They laughed when I showed it to them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2445/3996990118_25d27a0d53_b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2445/3996990118_25d27a0d53_b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />It was about a five hour drive to Jaipur, the so-called 'Pink City'. The streets were congested with traffic ... bikes fought for room with pedestrians, mopeds fought for room with bikes, cars with mopeds, etc ... in the middle of it all, camels pulled large wooden carts down the middle of the street. The five-story Hawa Mahal is probably the city's most distinctive landmark. It was built in 1799 to enable ladies of the royal household to watch the life and processions of the city go by while they remained concealed, per the protocol of the day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3432/3996244929_71c08cf712.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 335px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3432/3996244929_71c08cf712.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Though Jaipur wasn't our favorite stop of the trip, it offered some really worthwhile stops. For instance, our ride up to the top of the Amber Fort was via elephant. The fort itself was pretty spectacular.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3513/3996246703_b5e542755a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 335px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3513/3996246703_b5e542755a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />After a week in near 100-degree heat, though, the biggest attraction for us was the little pool along-side our guest house. Heaven! Our second night in Jaipur wrapped up with henna, traditional Indian music, great food and a palm reader. <br /><br />Our last and final stop of trip took us from Rajasthan to the eastern state of Uttar Pradesh and the banks of the Ganges River. Varanasi is known as the "city of Shiva" and is thought to be one of the holiest places in India. Mark Twain once wrote that Varanasi "is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together". After arriving in town, we made our way to the river to watch the nightly Ganga Aarti ceremony ... holy men put the river to sleep with prayers, bells, drums and fire. Hundreds of pilgrims flock here by foot and boat to attend.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2566/3997011504_56cb3cbe49.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 335px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2566/3997011504_56cb3cbe49.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The next morning, we woke before dawn and made our way to river for a boat ride. <br /><br />Varanasi is the heart of the Hindu universe and is a crossing place between the physical and spiritual worlds. For Hindus, to die here and have your ashes spread in the Ganges is to break the cycle of life and death. We both lit candles and set them on the river in memory of lost loved ones.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2441/3997011844_cfe9511d19.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2441/3997011844_cfe9511d19.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The boatman dipped his oars into the water and we glided quietly along the riverside ghats. Hindu pilgrims bathed in the river as sky began to brighten. Holy men struck yoga poses. Smoke rose from the burning ghats that perform public cremations on the river. Later in the morning we wandered the narrow streets of the old town, stopping in shops along the way.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2471/3996259843_a4d87541b8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2471/3996259843_a4d87541b8.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />On our second morning in Varanasi, the sun shine was brilliant at dawn as I crept along the ghats. Ankle-deep silt left by the high monsoon waters was only partially cleared, so I pressed into the throng of pilgrims as we snaked our way through the narrow open walkway.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2426/3996259369_9cb8b2ae50.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2426/3996259369_9cb8b2ae50.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I made my way to Kedar Ghat, took a seat on the steps, and just watched the morning activity around me. People bathed, prayed, washed clothes, sang and did yoga as they have been doing there for centuries. Some purchased water containers so they could bring a bit of the holy Ganges back to their homes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2618/3996264949_d8eb1bea8a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2618/3996264949_d8eb1bea8a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Varanasi exemplified this sort of timelessness that seemed permeate each place we visited in India. True, its economy continues to grow at a heady pace; however, it is clear that the country is still deeply rooted in tradition.<br /><br />India is a passionate country. The same spirit that led to the creation of the Taj Mahal and guided our taxi driver in Agra to put pen to paper 100,000 times can also be found everywhere in modern life in the country. Even cricket is less a sport and more a religion in India.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3494/3996257317_e91b1bdb10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3494/3996257317_e91b1bdb10.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Before stepping foot in India, we were not sure what we would find when we arrived. After looking under the hood for the first time, we were pleasantly surprised with what we found. Sure, it can be confusing or challenging at times, but we both came away with the feeling that we want to see more of the country. <br /><br />We will return again ... maybe to the south. We still need to kick the tires<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2615/3997040370_8f6ce4b65e.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 335px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2615/3997040370_8f6ce4b65e.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZm2WgT5OZI26b4Z3da5acCYDC7cQHAdkMw-X6fr6Z71WdnFvXmYvFXo1jZLGaSGEMXuLUH-NGBKaAdoyMOA021lEtUE2cKJVPOQvs4Gch5avpTacYq2jux9BONHvgBQCcsdKFMw/s1600-h/DSC_1522.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZm2WgT5OZI26b4Z3da5acCYDC7cQHAdkMw-X6fr6Z71WdnFvXmYvFXo1jZLGaSGEMXuLUH-NGBKaAdoyMOA021lEtUE2cKJVPOQvs4Gch5avpTacYq2jux9BONHvgBQCcsdKFMw/s400/DSC_1522.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396328860140404738" /></a>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-68524226465210465962009-09-11T20:13:00.003+08:002009-09-11T21:56:01.513+08:00Show me that smile again ...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3588/3416713139_deaa75e646.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 332px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3588/3416713139_deaa75e646.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />My morning routine at the office goes something like this ... I get in around 7:00, boot up my computer and make a bee-line for my morning coffee. One of the only other people there at that time is our office administrator, Joe Chen. Every day when I say hi to him on my way by, he asks ... "going for coffee?" ... and then he laughs. Always. And I will say "no ... maybe a beer this morning" ... or ... "do you want me to bring you one?". He never does.<br /><br />When I go for lunch, Joe wants to know if I will have a hamburger. <br /><br />Funny when you think about cultural stereotypes going back the other way. While Americans envision Chinese as 4ft tall Karate Kids, the Chinese also have a distinct stereotype of Americans. When we're not drinking coffee and eating hamburgers, we are busy being gun-toting party people. Oh yeah ... and we have sex in the streets and have AIDS.<br /><br />Surprisingly, many of the stereotypes modern Chinese (and specifically Shanghainese) have of Americans comes from TV. One of the first American TV shows to be dubbed in Chinese and aired here in the late 80s was Growing Pains. It was an immediate smash hit. It was called 成长的烦恼 or "Chéngzhǎng de Fánnǎo" (the literal translation being "The Frustrations of Growing Up"). Mr. & Mrs Seaver provided a glimpse of how parents befriended their children in the U.S. while Mike was the personification of America's confident cool.<br /><br />The process of peeling away stereotypes and truly understanding people take time. My understanding of the Chinese people and culture has come a long ways in two years. One of these days I will take Joe out for lunch and help him understand that not all American's carry a gun. <br /><br />We'll go for a hamburger.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRvcga_fGTqT47rt1ntD8UEBN_3qZwBmAmnGrN4rVPLjyCQuTWYUEnwV1Ufui0sWoL8okDriGExcr77lhV0_XjfZS5XpVxBsDROQ4vFUAJYuNuEXxrMA_DCRPHTNgqm50X1d-HIg/s1600-h/Growing+Pains.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRvcga_fGTqT47rt1ntD8UEBN_3qZwBmAmnGrN4rVPLjyCQuTWYUEnwV1Ufui0sWoL8okDriGExcr77lhV0_XjfZS5XpVxBsDROQ4vFUAJYuNuEXxrMA_DCRPHTNgqm50X1d-HIg/s400/Growing+Pains.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380204352759213954" /></a>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-19617241857245005292009-09-09T22:01:00.002+08:002009-09-09T22:07:51.440+08:00Fountain of Youth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3265/2548313250_8ecea8f4b6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 335px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3265/2548313250_8ecea8f4b6.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />“It takes a long time to become young.”<br /><br />~ Pablo PicassoTrenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-23297316027628362702009-09-03T21:30:00.002+08:002009-09-03T21:36:28.360+08:00Two Cups<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/29/50297558_34c872db8b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 374px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/29/50297558_34c872db8b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />“The autumn leaves are falling like rain / Although my neighbors are all barbarians / And you, you are a thousand miles away / There are always two cups at my table.” <br /><br />~ Tang dynasty poemTrenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-68372345215220012162009-08-25T21:52:00.004+08:002009-08-25T23:08:03.717+08:00Trip Report: Hong Kong<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RYo5_F7KOhjBIDBuaJEO5F7D_SA8pTn4lZGtAMGytcndWX8M_gZYhSnwYht3_-VjCCbQrXbdcMHVpTG_Ejpxz22kGx8lb4LwehDYy7EaCVjJIMuXhJGjj-WH5YDQsAOczhyqsQ/s1600-h/DSC_1071.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RYo5_F7KOhjBIDBuaJEO5F7D_SA8pTn4lZGtAMGytcndWX8M_gZYhSnwYht3_-VjCCbQrXbdcMHVpTG_Ejpxz22kGx8lb4LwehDYy7EaCVjJIMuXhJGjj-WH5YDQsAOczhyqsQ/s400/DSC_1071.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373904032996242786" /></a><br /><br />It is hard to fault any city that has an entire street devoted to fish & aquarium stores. So it is that I came to like Hong Kong. <br /><br />Our weekend in the city was planned on a whim. Though Harmony had been twice, I had yet to visit. How could I live in China and not see their most prized Special Administrative Region?<br /><br />We spent two days wandering the markets in Kowloon, gawking at the lights of Hong Kong Island from the deck of the Star Ferry, and riding the escalators in 15-story shopping malls. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwk3v1SHczc8J3elJU7B_HRM0bQsUb_Ocy-iHCi04baYKT7bwAftlyn4nXx34zu5LSFwWBMKcS2vMbLXfnhyQ5597aR6xGnx9AZIo_48JP9CwwrS9UXBJ_VgapEf7lk2SAyXjSQg/s1600-h/DSC_1087.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwk3v1SHczc8J3elJU7B_HRM0bQsUb_Ocy-iHCi04baYKT7bwAftlyn4nXx34zu5LSFwWBMKcS2vMbLXfnhyQ5597aR6xGnx9AZIo_48JP9CwwrS9UXBJ_VgapEf7lk2SAyXjSQg/s400/DSC_1087.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373903324613399986" /></a><br /><br />We were only a short boat ride from China's mainland, but the differences in freedoms was astonishing to me. We actually were able to watch a Tarantino film at the theater ... at the theater! And it wasn't edited beyond recognition ... recognition!<br /><br />I came to like Hong Kong, but I didn't fall in love with it. Its the city that Shanghai aspires to be. Its clean. Its orderly. Its shiny metal and polished glass. I have never seen a city with more shopping malls per capita than Hong Kong and each tries to pack in more Western luxury brand names than the one down the street. Its hard to love a city if it doesn't stand for something unique ... something compelling. The 'sameness' that pervades Hong Kong is the very thing that brings in the tourists from China's mainland and abroad.<br /><br />I'm not saying we can't be friends. Besides ... they do have an entire street devoted to goldfish ... goldfish!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtq0igrmZgdY8Lz-mYJKqqmDacSK3-fvlnxeRcUVFHD_7P3hI3v9UG02OIZ3TW4A70g45_Dii73u2vdYDMiJ8_sBeTt3dcQ-cVajrhR77KWwRx-9pU2J0TN-5nEF91sUhyphenhyphenIzOI6A/s1600-h/DSC_1051.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtq0igrmZgdY8Lz-mYJKqqmDacSK3-fvlnxeRcUVFHD_7P3hI3v9UG02OIZ3TW4A70g45_Dii73u2vdYDMiJ8_sBeTt3dcQ-cVajrhR77KWwRx-9pU2J0TN-5nEF91sUhyphenhyphenIzOI6A/s400/DSC_1051.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373916821662716706" /></a>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-461462749834081302009-08-19T22:38:00.001+08:002009-08-19T22:38:20.133+08:00Journey<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3247982208/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3107/3247982208_e69841fff9.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3247982208/">Pura Ulun Danu Bratan</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/trentstrohm/">StrudelMonkey</a>.</span></div><p>“A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.” ~ John Steinbeck</p>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-81402229401558007082009-08-13T23:00:00.002+08:002009-08-13T23:03:38.357+08:00My wife is famous!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTzvjkIUqWKWjOTUhAMb4xp88-4HGBfp-1kfH54jSiPz2pB2exttpGNJ4jwPXL-FmlimBlQwgaSYVoCh8SHCzijHdhn9-Iylp2-5CUFsjJhzoz3GnsMPlQTb_4lXrHnzcGsz5-w/s1600-h/Enjoy+Cover.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTzvjkIUqWKWjOTUhAMb4xp88-4HGBfp-1kfH54jSiPz2pB2exttpGNJ4jwPXL-FmlimBlQwgaSYVoCh8SHCzijHdhn9-Iylp2-5CUFsjJhzoz3GnsMPlQTb_4lXrHnzcGsz5-w/s400/Enjoy+Cover.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369464031232050450" /></a><br /><br />So will she still love me now that she is part of the Shanghai glitterati? ;)Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-8611914985724248622009-08-12T20:05:00.005+08:002009-08-12T20:30:22.251+08:00Huixin Infant OrphanageHarmony and I joined our friends at Bean (shanghai.beanonline.org) for our monthly visit to Huixin Orphanage on Sunday. The kids were really happy to see us. We had a great afternoon playing outside, making balloon animals and eating cake!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIp2GSfHio7h9dE9rP3ZKAzVKFgj3Pqb5BEGFy5jwx9eduH140mVZJxCjHPPPZdltX_CgzZJTRCpy5muydX3j3smPYJVts5Z-JPSaA0oAu_1TW6zc3cerC5T1kLrqpwHJOIign0w/s1600-h/DSC_1143.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIp2GSfHio7h9dE9rP3ZKAzVKFgj3Pqb5BEGFy5jwx9eduH140mVZJxCjHPPPZdltX_CgzZJTRCpy5muydX3j3smPYJVts5Z-JPSaA0oAu_1TW6zc3cerC5T1kLrqpwHJOIign0w/s400/DSC_1143.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369051707544765938" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcox2rC8_hckCdUYdin9dW7Nro6hVf1zKONGUS1zKe_oYfeFYGm1M185kHANrfB5IWrUxA2ITercuS8F_HBEJcOV_WI2FlMvX6drZFZv5ZV5LwRuHKDURUGcZ_wgDgjhyKCyOYw/s1600-h/DSC_1075.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcox2rC8_hckCdUYdin9dW7Nro6hVf1zKONGUS1zKe_oYfeFYGm1M185kHANrfB5IWrUxA2ITercuS8F_HBEJcOV_WI2FlMvX6drZFZv5ZV5LwRuHKDURUGcZ_wgDgjhyKCyOYw/s400/DSC_1075.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369051698192784018" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvQh900DMaEKt_KlmIHy93ctIkn5JezcSgcWIwNZ5lLQtg4kMIm9sF2DrZq6h9jYYRYuwZ8Eh142vTsiDmkP7sFSfPZMIT10a030zcB_cd0G7HhtbmkMYZIfZnEVpt4_81iowDw/s1600-h/DSC_1059.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvQh900DMaEKt_KlmIHy93ctIkn5JezcSgcWIwNZ5lLQtg4kMIm9sF2DrZq6h9jYYRYuwZ8Eh142vTsiDmkP7sFSfPZMIT10a030zcB_cd0G7HhtbmkMYZIfZnEVpt4_81iowDw/s400/DSC_1059.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369051688540117682" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsDdIw5PYefUiKHtOHHxstBfhXLdzLUem9MP8iejWdp_blgT5FhOl8jw6dNEKNCaxATmtHnaqTDISEb0x8dRYnCDYxMc4RDH827_5OKhElBvUFkmEqFjux46TZfKjYm1LnyxnWjg/s1600-h/DSC_1051.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsDdIw5PYefUiKHtOHHxstBfhXLdzLUem9MP8iejWdp_blgT5FhOl8jw6dNEKNCaxATmtHnaqTDISEb0x8dRYnCDYxMc4RDH827_5OKhElBvUFkmEqFjux46TZfKjYm1LnyxnWjg/s400/DSC_1051.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369051678032022866" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcrUVMuddxFtfmkz2tJcaWPIpDBwA-5M0KpKsINcvYAjIAQfUaYa02e_HE3spikNBcg8da8O9rpVMQ8pkWp0WTtzXCQvtvwyGZY2t1coPEvgKnUKqA0tTa0VW4B-HRpv9zMwAeQ/s1600-h/DSC_1202.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcrUVMuddxFtfmkz2tJcaWPIpDBwA-5M0KpKsINcvYAjIAQfUaYa02e_HE3spikNBcg8da8O9rpVMQ8pkWp0WTtzXCQvtvwyGZY2t1coPEvgKnUKqA0tTa0VW4B-HRpv9zMwAeQ/s400/DSC_1202.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369052265685583122" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpq6QWY50gxm_KGSSGg9us-hx0nfY5sRmnPanTdKlRiPzI2bfO09sqyHqTOgLdCy44yweu_4MN_hhwuRxRHLZlAt6t-rvw39Rf5whRTWEkqAfrfs8b2wlkp7kDj-3pF9vIKGc5mQ/s1600-h/DSC_1196.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpq6QWY50gxm_KGSSGg9us-hx0nfY5sRmnPanTdKlRiPzI2bfO09sqyHqTOgLdCy44yweu_4MN_hhwuRxRHLZlAt6t-rvw39Rf5whRTWEkqAfrfs8b2wlkp7kDj-3pF9vIKGc5mQ/s400/DSC_1196.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369052256120624066" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Mk2b51YvypDczNl1D0LEEuT4DGNhzTzZTXOiaYF9Yc1qhJCWp4TbX2Wrdva3f74FZPCEDPcw_YIPhsbWhsHtnpqghSv5ft-WhISJyWX18i-k8tvvMrR0jzMuT8pDZI2A-3hlKA/s1600-h/DSC_1151.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Mk2b51YvypDczNl1D0LEEuT4DGNhzTzZTXOiaYF9Yc1qhJCWp4TbX2Wrdva3f74FZPCEDPcw_YIPhsbWhsHtnpqghSv5ft-WhISJyWX18i-k8tvvMrR0jzMuT8pDZI2A-3hlKA/s400/DSC_1151.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369051713875529058" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRt8Z652ORRSSqkL3cnxTj7xP51LmH-0XOi_e3Hlxsc0lsiKwRmkcrU4-V8WploF4wytmwMVGqVzXl3hd8g27gheFStXhiCC9sQNpkIQLGAp3ghJGpmSY9_2nP2YtxyzImIdAXYQ/s1600-h/DSC_1158.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRt8Z652ORRSSqkL3cnxTj7xP51LmH-0XOi_e3Hlxsc0lsiKwRmkcrU4-V8WploF4wytmwMVGqVzXl3hd8g27gheFStXhiCC9sQNpkIQLGAp3ghJGpmSY9_2nP2YtxyzImIdAXYQ/s400/DSC_1158.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369052245146813010" /></a>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-48092994176750821732009-08-11T20:27:00.011+08:002009-08-11T22:03:58.143+08:00Trip Journal: Tibet<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3732707330/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2624/3732707330_5579ddd0a0.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3732707330/">Lhasa</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/trentstrohm/">StrudelMonkey</a>.</span></div><p><br />The question came to mind while we joined hundreds of prayer wheel-swinging Buddhist pilgrims in circumnavigation around the Jokhang Temple. It also came to mind standing at the foot of Mt. Everest ... and when seeing military patrols cut through the streets and back lanes of Lhasa.<br /><br />What really defines a place?<br /><br />Is it history? People? Its politics and religion? How about its customs and culture? Or its geography?<br /><br />It only took the trip from Lhasa's airport to old town to understand that Tibet was not only extreme in each one of these dimensions, but took them all ... threw them in a blender with some yak butter ... and mixed them all together into something entirely new to me.<br /><br />A visit to Tibet takes your understanding of the world and flips it on its side. Like rolling down a hill in a truck tire, its at once exhilarating and disorienting.</p><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9PM7yvmfMP-Mz4lprAvBKdUW2Cbp97owuD2fKm6g50FjAPpldodGFxYONUeeqo49GWFWB73GkDiYodSRqzEQ-DQxbZOekbnfaJKBUszn9pqYLL-GBiaonxY98rueOWjsKcuocg/s1600-h/DSC_2058.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9PM7yvmfMP-Mz4lprAvBKdUW2Cbp97owuD2fKm6g50FjAPpldodGFxYONUeeqo49GWFWB73GkDiYodSRqzEQ-DQxbZOekbnfaJKBUszn9pqYLL-GBiaonxY98rueOWjsKcuocg/s320/DSC_2058.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366475899122779394" /></a><br /><br />People who know me would agree that I generally keep a pretty even keel. This all ends when I step foot in a Chinese airport. People dart in every direction without reason or regard for others while I suppress the urge to slip sleeping pills into their green tea. Newton famously said that no two bodies can occupy the same space at the same time. The check in "line" for a China Eastern flight is basically a bunch of people trying to prove him wrong.<br /><br />So it came as a pleasant surprise when we arrived in Lhasa to a scene of general order and relaxed people. Picture people moving calmly toward baggage claim as if they were walking underwater. Then it dawned on us ... what we were witnessing was not so much an improved, more considerate Chinese airport but rather an intense fear among Chinese travelers of altitude sickness.<br /><br />Oh well. I will take the sight of people walking around as if they were on cracking ice over the chaos of the alternative any day.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3758337044/" title="Barkhor Square by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2463/3758337044_e0e0a62d71.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Barkhor Square" /></a><br /><br />The first things that strike you about Tibet is the cobalt blue sky, intense sun and mountains ... everywhere. The capital, Lhasa, sits at an altitude of 3,200 meters (or about 10,500 feet) and is surrounded by a rim of tan, treeless mountains. The city was quite starkly divided between the old town and the much more modern, "Chinese" side. The distinction was pretty clear ... the old town is made up of narrow lanes, old temples, and fruit vendors while the newer side of town was full of generic shop facades and karaoke bars. We were happy to find our hotel in the heart of the old town.<br /><br />We spent our first couple days exploring the spiritual heart of Lhasa. The Jokhang Temple is the most revered structure in all of Tibet and was only a few steps from our hotel. Every day, hundreds of Buddhist pilgrims join in a kora (pilgrimage circuit) around the temple. Dozens of vendors line the the path that meanders through narrow streets filled with the smells of incense, yak butter and more unpleasant things. You can't help but get swept up in the procession around the temple ... we made a point of joining the kora a couple of times each day<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3758337054/" title="Jokhang Temple by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3506/3758337054_134e59a8b9.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Jokhang Temple" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3732699044/" title="Prayer Flags by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3423/3732699044_879666b312.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="Prayer Flags" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3732707320/" title="Lhasa by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2651/3732707320_0b08d03bc8.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Lhasa" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3731881013/" title="Prayer Wheel Prayers by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2673/3731881013_dbdf324b36.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Prayer Wheel Prayers" /></a><br /><br />The Potala Palace is probably the most recognizable building in all of Tibet, and for good reason. Not only is it visible from most points in Lhasa but the structure is so imposing that it is hard to take your eyes from it. By our third day in Lhasa, we were acclimatized to the point where we were able to make the climb up its hundreds of steps. For a building that was home to the 5th to 14th Dalai Lamas and the center of its government, the palace today is merely an empty shell. Regardless, to climb its steps while imagining how it appeared during its time of prominence was an awe-inspiring experience. The views from the top were as breath-taking as the climb to get there<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3758337036/" title="Potala Palace by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2580/3758337036_b75c38f3b3.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Potala Palace" /></a><br /><br />After three days in Lhasa, it was time to head west. Being that there were 11 of us traveling together, we hired a van and driver for the week. Upon seeing the green 20-passenger van for the first time, we affectionately named her "Jade Lightening". Stocked with snacks and people and on the lonesome road, we quickly realized that lightening probably wasn't the best choice in names. Had Miss Daisy been traveling with us, she would have told the driver to "pick it up!". The driver was no younger than 6o years old and he kept a stash of Red Bull in a box behind his seat. This was going to be interesting.<br /><br />The Friendship Highway crosses Tibet from east to west and would be our main route for the next several days. We quickly gained altitude on our way out of Lhasa and enjoyed views over fields of yellow rapeseed to soaring mountains in the distance. From time to time we passed through small villages where the locals would always return our waves. Niko would throw candy out the window to the kids we passed.<br /><br />The first day of driving took us over three high mountain passes ... each higher that the last and up to 5,000 meters (16,500 ft). We caught view of Yamdrok Tso (lake) from the pass over Kamba-la. The lake is an intense color of blue and is set among soaring mountain peaks. For Tibetans, it is one of the four holy lakes.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3732699030/" title="Yamdrok Tso by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3471/3732699030_b5761aed97.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="Yamdrok Tso" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3758337066/" title="Yamdrok Tso by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3472/3758337066_d3796cc702.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Yamdrok Tso" /></a><br /><br />Our destination for the night was the town of Gyantse. What was formerly a center of trade in the region up to the 15th century is now a village of 15,000. Signs of its former prominence make the town an attraction today. The Pelkor Chode Monastery is quite active and is surrounded by tall hills topped by an ancient red wall. A cliff-hanging 14th century fort stands tall over the middle of town.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3758337078/" title="Gyantse by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3158/3758337078_d058838e8d.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="Gyantse" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3732688816/" title="Gyantse by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2553/3732688816_ea9d4c6f3a.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="Gyantse" /></a><br /><br />We explored the monastery and later wandered through the outdoor market in town. For 1 yuan (15 cents) per game, we played snooker in the market. It was quite a sight for the young kids hanging around. Everywhere we traveled in Tibet, kids were quite happy and quick to smile. We taught the market kids how to limbo under our outstretched pool sticks.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3732688810/" title="Gyantse by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3438/3732688810_2bf34135fa.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="Gyantse" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3758364382/" title="Gyantse by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2584/3758364382_85ac1c82e9.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="Gyantse" /></a><br /><br />Like most days at such high altitudes, our energy waned quickly and we were asleep early. The next morning, we were up early and on the road heading west again. The city of Shigatse is the second largest in Tibet and the nearest jump-off point for the Everest region of the Himalayas. The town itself lacked any real character but the real attraction in the area is Tashilhunpo Monastery. Founded in the mid-15th century, the monastery was one of the few in Tibet to survive the Cultural Revolution. It is best known as the traditional home to Panchen ('great scholar') Lamas and is the most active monastery in Tibet. We spent a couple of hours merely wandering the narrow, cobbled lanes through the sprawling complex. The afternoon call to prayer brought the monks together in the assembly hall. We stood among them as they began to sing.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3758364408/" title="Shigatse by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3487/3758364408_e7aa5b32d4.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Shigatse" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3731881147/" title="Shigatse by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3525/3731881147_be62022636.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Shigatse" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3732688796/" title="Unusable by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2444/3732688796_57707f3a22.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Unusable" /></a><br /><br />We up again early the next morning to start the long trip to the foot of Mt. Everest ...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3731881143/" title="Prayer Flags by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3062/3731881143_f01c211d54.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="Prayer Flags" /></a><br /><br />The trip from Shigatse to the tent camp at the base of Mt. Everest took 12 hours ... 4 of which were over rough roads & switchbacks. Jade Lightening was huffing and puffing her way along with us staring in awe out her windows. With each climb over another pass we would spot a snow covered peak off in the distance and say "that must be it!" ... but it never was ... Jade Lightening would chug along up another pass or around another narrow ridge<br /><br />We finally approached the end of the road at the end of the afternoon as the rain clouds filled the sky. We pulled into an open area the size of a football field and parked the van along a row of boxy tents. It was frustrating to arrive at the foot of Everest and not be able to see the mountain, though we held out hope for morning.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_17uilX2DppM5-p2lltOwnAjeo5QjYSJ3Jm5E79iVnOgxffTlDmYT3HeSJ7TtqrMW9sUmVhzRJSUmKFrJXVsXEDTDkx6ujrfdUbLiYgrI7YxQ3_R-pRLFu1abEJ80sXEUuhOjA/s1600-h/DSC_0746.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_17uilX2DppM5-p2lltOwnAjeo5QjYSJ3Jm5E79iVnOgxffTlDmYT3HeSJ7TtqrMW9sUmVhzRJSUmKFrJXVsXEDTDkx6ujrfdUbLiYgrI7YxQ3_R-pRLFu1abEJ80sXEUuhOjA/s400/DSC_0746.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367586772178602354" /></a><br /><br />Tent camp sat at just over 5,000m (16,500 ft) and we felt every bit of it. Walking off on flat ground to find a rock 'toilet' left us stopping to catch our breath.<br /><br />The tents had a square footprint, with sitting surface around the inside edge of the perimeter. This would be our bed for the night. Each tent had room for four people, so we had three tents between us. We gathered in one tent around the yak dung-fired stove as light rain began to fall. Our host prepared garlic soup for us, which was said to help us with the altitude.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3757601499/" title="Everest Tent Camp by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2484/3757601499_fc7a20d413.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Everest Tent Camp" /></a><br /><br />As night approached, the temperature began to fall toward freezing. We layered up with jackets and hats and made beds with blankets our hosts provided. The stove in our tent was fired up one last time but lasted no more than an hour. We all struggled with the altitude to some degree but tried to catch any sleep that we could. Morning would come early, as we planned to be on the trail to Base Camp before sunrise. Not long after we had all drifted off, three men carrying flashlights barged into our tent saying something we couldn't understand. Our only response was to yell "no!" and point outside. The best we could tell, they were looking for a tent with room for more people. It was hard enough trying to sleep at altitude without strange men interrupting it. It was a long night to be sure and one I will never forget. It has always been a dream of mine to see Mt. Everest in person. So as I lay in the tent trying to ignore my pounding headache, I thought about the day ahead and listened to the silence of the Himalayas.<br /><br />The hike from tent camp to base camp covers 3km (2mi) with an elevation gain of 200m. Between the time, elevation, stomach ailments, temperature, lack of sleep and lack of breakfast, the 3km hike felt like we were truly going for the summit. We were on the trail at 6:00 and well before the sun was up. We could already tell, though, that the previous night's rain had helped clear the sky. As we started up the trail, we began to see the outline of Everest take form out of the darkness.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS201CSbJPZ3qIu8-xoHy1UWVNCTQzmXqblO00Ys-IhsrWVMvRgTm1KcWByLpHDw09OVBg59nE_aSivZqwZD7V-e7UqvHbvXBBS58KkiviWnS3I5hDZ2c4OOgnrPcTDG4cNjDVTA/s1600-h/DSC_0770.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS201CSbJPZ3qIu8-xoHy1UWVNCTQzmXqblO00Ys-IhsrWVMvRgTm1KcWByLpHDw09OVBg59nE_aSivZqwZD7V-e7UqvHbvXBBS58KkiviWnS3I5hDZ2c4OOgnrPcTDG4cNjDVTA/s400/DSC_0770.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367599496340734562" /></a><br /><br />To see Everest in front of me was truly a surreal and amazing experience. Visions of legends like Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay flashed in my memory ... it was as if I could see moments in the climbing history play out before my eyes. On our calm morning hike to base camp, I could still picture the storms that whipped the mountain in May 1996 when Rob Hall and others perished near the summit.<br /><br />Everything was quiet on the mountain when we arrived at Base Camp. The peak of climbing season had passed two months before, so the site was simply a bare flat area dotted with rock cairns built to memorialize fallen climbers. We could picture how the site must look at the height of climbing season. The morning clouds had almost completely burned off as the sun lit the sky.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3757615399/" title="Mt. Everest by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2553/3757615399_7fef9bac1a.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Mt. Everest" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3757601503/" title="Everest Base Camp by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2592/3757601503_ef3145db8b.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="Everest Base Camp" /></a><br /><br />The clear views of the mountain lasted after we had returned to tent camp. Apparently, many visitors will come to Everest for an entire week and do not have the clear views of the mountain that we had. We all left on a high as we began our return trip to Lhasa via Shigatse.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3731881037/" title="Everest Tent Camp by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2597/3731881037_66a5ecdf1f.jpg" width="500" height="334" alt="Everest Tent Camp" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3732707340/" title="Lhasa by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2656/3732707340_f4bce0b13f.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Lhasa" /></a><br /><br />Compared to the thin air of Everest, we almost needed a spoon to take in that thick Lhasa air. We had a only a couple days left in the city and we were determined to make the most of them. Dirk and I got up before dawn on the first morning to explore the old town and watch the city come to life. Kids walked to school, butchers opened shop and pilgrims gravitated toward Jokhang Temple. <br /><br />The afternoon was spent relaxing and exploring the markets. Lhasa is a great town for wandering. Narrow alleyways splinter out from the central square and they are filled with interesting people and activity. If you get turned around, all you have to do is find some pilgrims swinging prayer wheels and they will inevitably lead you back to the Barkhor.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3731881023/" title="Lhasa Market by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3485/3731881023_2069ba90ee.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Lhasa Market" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3757601557/" title="Siesta by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3495/3757601557_61e1ff4dbc.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="Siesta" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3757511425/" title="Walking the Circuit by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3424/3757511425_60ef32aa75.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Walking the Circuit" /></a><br /><br />Our dance-off with the Tibetan kids started in the most innocent of ways. Walking through an alley, we stopped to say "hi" to a group of children that were playing after school. As we continued on our way, one of them playfully pushed Niko and, when he turned, showed him some of his home-grown break dance moves. Niko "got served" and the dance-off was on. The kids were good and had obviously been working on their moves with the help of bootleg American movies.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBRi1elgdI_xuHf1QYQDUoB24kdMgNT1NhyphenhyphenCTbHxXSKzN_FXEq909_VBfelBgBq54RU9UJN3Xn1yjr_rBCSEew9ckiq-LvB7nsDqHfjuvLmfWQ4hlOYJgh5Jhps6oKq6Q3DfJ-kw/s1600-h/DSC_0912.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBRi1elgdI_xuHf1QYQDUoB24kdMgNT1NhyphenhyphenCTbHxXSKzN_FXEq909_VBfelBgBq54RU9UJN3Xn1yjr_rBCSEew9ckiq-LvB7nsDqHfjuvLmfWQ4hlOYJgh5Jhps6oKq6Q3DfJ-kw/s400/DSC_0912.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368348924312798034" /></a><br /><br />We countered any way we could. We came at them with the "Roger Rabbit" ...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6l1s65LV12c9vCZb-xioWI50IEwd4GNeln1KkmNLa21fs18qYj69-2ptgWaCPhRZavU8OLPOJF2QxMKE8zefkw7nMgO3QsN7uD74-dLiJkMBJ1NwwxpF3EjvPfjpazb4hqjLV2w/s1600-h/DSC_0936.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6l1s65LV12c9vCZb-xioWI50IEwd4GNeln1KkmNLa21fs18qYj69-2ptgWaCPhRZavU8OLPOJF2QxMKE8zefkw7nMgO3QsN7uD74-dLiJkMBJ1NwwxpF3EjvPfjpazb4hqjLV2w/s400/DSC_0936.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368349689082570082" /></a><br /><br />... the tango ... <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORgvRYAloEA_r-KktcspIVr2ApocXAnq9p0-m9ZiXzUeyjO3nEBKvkbkuKdochyphenhyphen4efxLPUrYdQqvvzvlBrWcyM-ob2I7z-L0om9BZLb9HhHu1T-ULOZmYbiQ1vdLjl2vZTAnp0w/s1600-h/DSC_0920.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORgvRYAloEA_r-KktcspIVr2ApocXAnq9p0-m9ZiXzUeyjO3nEBKvkbkuKdochyphenhyphen4efxLPUrYdQqvvzvlBrWcyM-ob2I7z-L0om9BZLb9HhHu1T-ULOZmYbiQ1vdLjl2vZTAnp0w/s400/DSC_0920.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368349980250203426" /></a><br /><br />... and the Waltz.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEr5V8FWS1Wuccq7LdptLKKSIoWG6bZqpMNWTBOYd29nZP0YAHoQP4l45r59_LIjXtNnv65rfxPXmVMykIZ7gEfXFuCZUyNALT5j7L4IZ53XPId2JTSbc6bo5QkJBjDBS7HzFKDg/s1600-h/DSC_0918.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEr5V8FWS1Wuccq7LdptLKKSIoWG6bZqpMNWTBOYd29nZP0YAHoQP4l45r59_LIjXtNnv65rfxPXmVMykIZ7gEfXFuCZUyNALT5j7L4IZ53XPId2JTSbc6bo5QkJBjDBS7HzFKDg/s400/DSC_0918.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368350345176849714" /></a><br /><br />The kids were tough and we quickly emptied our limited repertoire. So we graciously conceded defeat and waved our goodbyes.<br /><br />We were almost back to the square when a few of the kids caught up with us and made it clear they were not quite through with us yet. They wanted a Barkhor Square dance-off and they would not take "bu yao" for an answer. They grabbed Dirk and pulled him off to the square. We had no choice but to follow.<br /><br />I have to mention here that having a dance-off with a group of Tibetan kids in Lhasa's main square and in front of the holiest Temple in all of Tibet is not something that we had on our itinerary.<br /><br />But the challenge was on and we couldn't back out now. Rule one in a fight (so I have read) is to always leave something in reserve. With that, Dirk came out strong with his best Michael Jackson (RIP) impression ...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3757601519/" title="The dance-off begins by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2523/3757601519_00a91303da.jpg" width="500" height="335" alt="The dance-off begins" /></a><br /><br />We were quickly reminded that nothing attracts a crowd in Tibet like a crowd. <br /><br />Especially a crowd of local kids cheering on a Dutch guy doing a Michael Jackson impression in Barkhor Square.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx1-v-QlOaBPpBqxBZcF5o99_SSyRfOiD9CwhJGjvUSwiH9x0gAz7P6vzimmq84Yo_va2Z7yHhmgllTCFMkQ9CQ7duKAlO58KJ6cFKZhSlGnx4B1Kl7aZ4cr21RQaosvJe9tnVgA/s1600-h/DSC_0955.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx1-v-QlOaBPpBqxBZcF5o99_SSyRfOiD9CwhJGjvUSwiH9x0gAz7P6vzimmq84Yo_va2Z7yHhmgllTCFMkQ9CQ7duKAlO58KJ6cFKZhSlGnx4B1Kl7aZ4cr21RQaosvJe9tnVgA/s400/DSC_0955.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368354883397227938" /></a><br /><br />I should also point out that the Chinese military in Tibet are not big fans of crowds forming in Barkhor Square. The crowd quickly got very big and the military patrols in the area started converging on the crowd. Niko saw the opportunity and took advantage of his last chance to wow the crowd. He jumped into the middle of the circle and gave them his best "party boy" dance. He had his 20 seconds to do his thing before the patrols broke up the crowd. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUlXCvJqaT8KKZLJx-X14W6ufjb3NUXKyh2-ErfEKLrZ7_GhNZS-aeR_bj86HVAkJBd-OyTBti1rMPAgUebJAWI1AM8uQ748SqT2VhoLfAHZgCGbTXC1Z5wi8yGF4mMKjlVmgDQ/s1600-h/DSC_0964.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUlXCvJqaT8KKZLJx-X14W6ufjb3NUXKyh2-ErfEKLrZ7_GhNZS-aeR_bj86HVAkJBd-OyTBti1rMPAgUebJAWI1AM8uQ748SqT2VhoLfAHZgCGbTXC1Z5wi8yGF4mMKjlVmgDQ/s400/DSC_0964.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368356397337553010" /></a><br /><br />After a full day of walking and dancing, we were quickly running out of time in Tibet. We had one day left and time for one last adventure...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rgLrgoJT-fOIL0ikdMdHI1TN4sVWYfG3XIp2yW361PBtjzh0unx8weggJseYqqM_3Z43eO7_U0nWADBiaNtcKcOp-EgO_49Nr3W178axD0b9_1TUbU_LdeYkHoPMLgxJUMTnCw/s1600-h/Rafting+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rgLrgoJT-fOIL0ikdMdHI1TN4sVWYfG3XIp2yW361PBtjzh0unx8weggJseYqqM_3Z43eO7_U0nWADBiaNtcKcOp-EgO_49Nr3W178axD0b9_1TUbU_LdeYkHoPMLgxJUMTnCw/s400/Rafting+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368686954167611330" /></a><br /><br />It was our last day in Tibet, so we had to go out on a high note. A local outfitter offered a whitewater rafting trip that would take us an hour outside of Lhasa to the Holung Chu River, so off we went. The river was swollen with rain water collected from the surrounding mountains and topped off with some glacial run-off. It moved at a pretty good clip and was cold enough that we had to wear wet suits. We spent several hours padding through whitewater, sailing past grazing yaks and gliding through canyons sliced through the ancient Himalaya. We took turns kayaking and, at the end of the afternoon, a few of us jumped in the river for an icy swim.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRGZc8LLblT-R9MXxmgaO4bFOeZ9Usn8Nu1nd6nI4QRgxmgp27sBIBwk63w0l89XVm2RVrIXHJn8DowwvyA3Xis3OE13MNlZRHwB7NM71dCUaIb3bZXlD3UhYc0vKuoJ3U8NCtg/s1600-h/Rafting+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRGZc8LLblT-R9MXxmgaO4bFOeZ9Usn8Nu1nd6nI4QRgxmgp27sBIBwk63w0l89XVm2RVrIXHJn8DowwvyA3Xis3OE13MNlZRHwB7NM71dCUaIb3bZXlD3UhYc0vKuoJ3U8NCtg/s400/Rafting+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368687541327765058" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BvCXVlWOOLpcYaa_3ma4q8U4PPS0aywNDfwrS6JEQ3psH5gUjMulBuYX7bbYi87t2MoTNRny2V61LT45HXthyFqk3nzOfdKETaDdLVxxZdUfCZ0UjldLKDWsO51SFWHqLwabFQ/s1600-h/Rafting+3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BvCXVlWOOLpcYaa_3ma4q8U4PPS0aywNDfwrS6JEQ3psH5gUjMulBuYX7bbYi87t2MoTNRny2V61LT45HXthyFqk3nzOfdKETaDdLVxxZdUfCZ0UjldLKDWsO51SFWHqLwabFQ/s400/Rafting+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368687685295621570" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8ykTtbFLL0CukPZrIMnSIWYTQGwb8QLrHs4V37r4BZQ7LgnaGtcnemh-FVfn69gOOG4_JOyvOmeczY3qSgMHHvnSCOATOLGxfleS3W1vAw0NLrDEwofF4M3HqgfEFz9GHiQI9Q/s1600-h/IMG_7318.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8ykTtbFLL0CukPZrIMnSIWYTQGwb8QLrHs4V37r4BZQ7LgnaGtcnemh-FVfn69gOOG4_JOyvOmeczY3qSgMHHvnSCOATOLGxfleS3W1vAw0NLrDEwofF4M3HqgfEFz9GHiQI9Q/s400/IMG_7318.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368687919190188322" /></a> (Rafting photos taken by a local photographer affiliated with the rafting company)<br /><br />It really was a fitting end to a great trip. It left us completely exhausted but we wouldn't have wanted it any other way ... short of breath is how it is on the rooftop of the world!<br /><br />It was sad to say goodbye to our travel parters ... some of which we just met for the first time. We all traveled together really well, which was good since we were stuck in the same van together for hours and hours. It was also a really great experience for Harmony and I to travel with her brother Niko. In what seems like no time at all, he has gone from an ankle grabbing toddler to a really great guy with a bright future ahead of him.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4bVBeLCEaJa6NvqQaP-j1fy3_cNLZk1WZ16NNdNXtzSOjrU0g8pg0MEw0hVJeg8nhL155SN0sSpyHRiuMQMbL3b8Qv7V8Icj10iehqMmepeTcC6ul_zk1-MFEBgM6HUSPnscPg/s1600-h/China-Tibet+286.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4bVBeLCEaJa6NvqQaP-j1fy3_cNLZk1WZ16NNdNXtzSOjrU0g8pg0MEw0hVJeg8nhL155SN0sSpyHRiuMQMbL3b8Qv7V8Icj10iehqMmepeTcC6ul_zk1-MFEBgM6HUSPnscPg/s400/China-Tibet+286.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368694921183870178" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNzlHDofWmJ7lSGD9-G-inVxI8EbRckUv0QVRx-4HxWzt2Koi0Adz5alVtAQBZpHN9r4VeFSPTKP4hIPC6z_N4E5zaCCT4YiZ14I6sdjpeUxKozckb4T-HM8J2Mu_swsHWtJlUg/s1600-h/DSC_1180.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNzlHDofWmJ7lSGD9-G-inVxI8EbRckUv0QVRx-4HxWzt2Koi0Adz5alVtAQBZpHN9r4VeFSPTKP4hIPC6z_N4E5zaCCT4YiZ14I6sdjpeUxKozckb4T-HM8J2Mu_swsHWtJlUg/s400/DSC_1180.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368695372343262818" /></a><br /><br />It certainly wouldn't be a trip report of mine without mention of the food. So what of it? We were pleasantly surprised with how good the food was. Yak meat was a staple of our diet and was quite good ... picture a slightly tougher version of beef. A popular dish was yak momos, which were basically yak meat-filled dumplings. Food quality on the road was mediocre at best and few of us avoided the random stomach bug.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvk7Lz2AkLij8rUeAQd_qAV-EQL8azhRfL6WVxCsdKLmfy5JzSlhxK19okl8g3avdf6uf25Vz-7yVT6Z6gRZIYixooF-yNRk3c7qbJHwza98NShGIdD_KTYvD8mMgZtPon5b_jQ/s1600-h/DSC_1017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvk7Lz2AkLij8rUeAQd_qAV-EQL8azhRfL6WVxCsdKLmfy5JzSlhxK19okl8g3avdf6uf25Vz-7yVT6Z6gRZIYixooF-yNRk3c7qbJHwza98NShGIdD_KTYvD8mMgZtPon5b_jQ/s400/DSC_1017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368698090728848226" /></a><br /><br />The question that came to my mind throughout the trip was no easier to answer as we departed Lhasa as it was when we first arrived.<br /><br />Tibet is a truly unique corner of this world, but one in the midst of great transition (willed or not). Its people boldly face an uncertain future though its its economy is soaring. Its culture is anchored in deep-rooted traditions though the arrival of modern city life and new arrivals from east threaten to erode it. <br /><br />What really defines a place?<br /><br />I don't think I know the answer, but I will keep on doing my research<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3731744001/" title="Potala Palace by StrudelMonkey, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2651/3731744001_7ba3ed4352.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="Potala Palace" /></a>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-66718784721431747492009-07-29T21:42:00.001+08:002009-07-29T21:42:15.496+08:00What a Month<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3758473752/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2553/3758473752_4b540810a6.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3758473752/">Scorpion on a Stick</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/trentstrohm/">StrudelMonkey</a>.</span></div><p>July has come and gone in what seemed like the blink of an eye. I knew it would. <br /><br />Niko's visit was definitely action packed: attending Dirk & Sheila's wedding in the bamboo forest of Moganshan ... touring Tibet from Lhasa to Everest Base Camp ... seeing the historic sites around Beijing. In between was peppered with nights of karaoke, river cruises, steamed dumplings and Filipino cover bands.<br /><br />Now that he has left, its time to get back into the swing of the Shanghai routine and catch up on everything that has been neglected for the past 30 days (including my writing).<br /><br />Zai jian, Niko ... you will be missed around here!</p>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-23348134887942709722009-06-30T22:05:00.001+08:002009-06-30T22:05:02.430+08:00Wandering<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3656193185/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3540/3656193185_d0d5c1a452.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/3656193185/">Zhujiajiao</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/trentstrohm/">StrudelMonkey</a>.</span></div><p>“Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe”<br /><br />~ Anatole France</p>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-85036166823136176592009-06-23T21:20:00.002+08:002009-06-23T21:55:23.713+08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwsUpIDoedtF40wc83xbXjtjXfFKoD5rxcprOGrgZvUMOj0-vFZ5xhTLQqkvx3akDsMT_oK40baVDbEW3p_4xy1ku0PZYeqVBqlLZGairuHhBOwjU9xmHvPp7XmjJ1-P2dqAo-Q/s1600-h/3648068073_0aa9bfceaf_b.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwsUpIDoedtF40wc83xbXjtjXfFKoD5rxcprOGrgZvUMOj0-vFZ5xhTLQqkvx3akDsMT_oK40baVDbEW3p_4xy1ku0PZYeqVBqlLZGairuHhBOwjU9xmHvPp7XmjJ1-P2dqAo-Q/s320/3648068073_0aa9bfceaf_b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350512624559501410" /></a><br /><br />Bean<br /><br />The Huixin Infant Orphanage is set back on a dusty, tree-shaded lane on the north side of downtown Shanghai. I finally took the opportunity to join the volunteer group 'Bean' for one of their weekly events. Spending a few hours with these kids was the highlight of my weekend. The orphanage was swelteringly hot, but the kids didn't care ... we had a great time coloring, singing songs and playing music. <br /><br />Most of the kids at the orphanage had mental and physical disabilities, which only compounds the the need for more caretakers ... the several women working at the home clearly had their hands full. The conditions at the home were better than I expected, though I really wonder what lies ahead for most of these kids as they grow older.<br /><br />Bean is an international service organization that combines social networking with service in the community. I look forward to becoming a part of the group and finding more time in my schedule to volunteer ... it really helps me put things into better perspectiveTrenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24720224.post-10854470743078373452009-06-11T21:49:00.001+08:002009-06-11T21:49:16.088+08:00Doors<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/347529873/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/147/347529873_be314ee28a.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trentstrohm/347529873/">59</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/trentstrohm/">StrudelMonkey</a>.</span></div><p>"When one door is closed, don't you know, another is open. "<br /><br />~ Bob Marley</p>Trenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837859633098364361noreply@blogger.com0