Adventures in the Rubble

Clash, Bang, Catastrophe

2010-04-26T14:56:00.000-07:00

“What the fuck am I doing?” I ask myself nearly every day.

Without plans for the future, lost and confused, I find myself chewing on any little thing that wanders astray from my self-micromanaged schedule, savoring the flavor of self-deprecation until all I have left to taste is a bland, indescript mush. In moments of lucidity, I realize my mind is just catastrophizing daily annoyances into disasters that play footsie with despair. However, victory tends to be short-lived. Nowadays, I feel mostly like I’m scrambling up and down the sides of a deep swimming pool, hoping to at some point gain enough momentum to reach the edge and pull myself up.

When negative thoughts flood my head, I try to take on an asset-based view of my situation. Relatively-speaking, I have a lot going for me and very little to complain about. I have an apartment with a full kitchen (important for a foodie like me), a pleasant, mild-mannered roommate, my own office for escaping the heat and recuperating from work, and a boss who’s actually not an asshole – he only has tendencies. As for my job, it has and continues to sustain my interest since it poses intriguing questions about the lives of tiny, colorful animals who have no idea why we lumbering, bipedal creatures are picking them up and manhandling them. So what’s missing?

While discussing my restlessness online with a friend, she suggested I might be lacking my usual support network. Good point. I had not realized until about a month ago, when my family visited, how much I had missed them. Although we sometimes fell back into our usual bickering, I still wished I had had more time to spend with them. Family is very important in Latin American cultures; it’s common for people to go home and hang out with their parents and siblings on weekends. Interpersonal dialogue, between family and even strangers, tends to be much more playful than the typical conversations (if any) had between family or strangers in the States. Gone is the awkward, mostly silent dinner with parents. Instead, picture a table roaring with laughter over the recount of an embarrassing moment and/or one sibling making fun of the other, each playful jab being met with a sharp, witty comeback. In face of this, I started reflecting upon the ever evolving role my family has played in my life, how I have always counted on them being available and attentive, how I have in adolescent relapses lacked patience for their expressed concern. It is a continuous struggle to strengthen instead of strain relations as I realize that in my most uncertain, lost moments, I reach out to them for advice.

But when even advice from family fails to ward off doubt, I turn to friends. Many people in my social circles, myself included, have dispersed to all corners of the world, making a heart-to-heart conversation difficult to have if not impossible. Over the months, I have tried to adjust, albeit reluctantly, to receiving the occasional email response or Skype call, the brief instant message sent on someone’s way out. But none of the aforementioned means of communicating comes close to sitting down on a couch, drinking a cup of tea, and chatting the night away with a dear friend after baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies. So now what?

I could go home. Build a life for myself somewhere and settle down. Or continue going from one seasonal job to the next. Either way has its appeals. If I do continue traveling, I could find a city along the way, and like a sponge to water, greedily soak up its offerings of art, film, and music until I am drunk on creative energy and then hop to my next middle-of-nowhere gig. What earnings I have managed to keep a hold onto will get me through at least a few more countries I reckon. So, I’m leaning towards adhering to my theory on any worthwhile pursuit in life. That is to say, I’m going to ride this wave until it crashes.

Song of the day: Daniel Johnston’s “Story of an Artist”
Current record on repeat: The National’s High Violet (stream it for free)
Literary goldmine: The Millions

So Much Beauty in Dirt

2010-03-20T17:04:00.000-07:00

Last week, I returned from a much needed vacation to the highest peak in Costa Rica, Mt Chirripó. It was a thrilling escape to the mountains where I soared free and alone, plunging into the dry crisp air while birds that sounded like rusty swings called to and fro. When chilled night arrived, the warmth and safety of my trusted sleeping bag beckoned me once more. I went to bed early, as early at 7:30pm, in order to wake up at 4am and be out hiking by dawn. With sleep still in my eyes, I relished the gentle early morning light that would induce a startling array of color, a full spectrum of green, blues, and reds, from the shrub-covered valley.

Yet, as much as I enjoyed being back in a familiar atmosphere, I couldn't help but long for the rainforest. I wanted to be out looking for frogs and chancing upon other animals. In comparison, the Talamanca range is a barren land, void of the thriving biodiversity of the lowlands. All that sounds is the wind.

However, when I returned to the rainforest, my heart sank. It was raining, as usual. The bus passed my stop, so I had to walk back to the turn-off on a narrow highway that tractor trailers use, a walk I thought could potentially be life-ending. When I got to my house, I secretly hoped that it would be how I left it - near spotless and tidy. But sure enough, there were still a couple cockroaches lying motionless on their backs and several black oblong insects that I never see alive, only dead with their insides a clod of white exploded out of one end. My constant companion, the mosquito, buzzed about looking for a bloodmeal. She reminded me that no, I am not at the top of the food chain. And no, I will not win this battle to keep my house a separate, sterile entity from the rainforest. In fact, all I can really do is sweep back whatever encroaches upon the edges, like a forest invading a pasture, to keep from being totally engulfed.

What is it that makes life feel more tangible nowadays? Enough for me to eschew a life of familiar security for one of limited comforts and great uncertainty? Simple. Something will happen. Maybe our field vehicle will break down. Or I will get stranded and spend the night in my office due to the storm that flooded the road home. Or I will see my first terciopelo lying in the middle of the road, about a meter long, its head smashed in by the shovel my landlord wielded to protect his family from harm. Whatever it is, something new and exciting will happen. I will pass through foreign territory, plantations of pineapples or bananas bordered by worker housing. Warning signs of pesticide use and restricted access will glare in red letters from their metal posts. I will wonder about not only the welfare of the frogs in such an environ but the health of the people. Of their children playing in the streets. Of class tension, social stigmas, and what role I play and could play in it all. And while caught up in my uncertainty, my doubt, my selfish stress and insecurity, something will bring a smile to my face. Then, if I observe carefully enough, still my mind enough for just one second, the beauty and harshness of life will manifest themselves all at once before my blinking eyes.

Sloth Sighting!

2010-03-07T19:01:00.000-08:00

To my surprise, my first sloth sighting did not happen when a group of tourists, about a week ago, excitedly shouted, "There's a sloth!" Even in broad daylight, without binoculars or a spotting scope, this elusive creature was just too quick for my naked eye to see. But luckily, tonight, some colleagues and I saw an individual crossing the cable bridge that connects the two sides of the station.

This rather unfortunate sloth was in the arduous process of climbing towards our side of the river when we spotted it. However, upon being blinded by our headlamps (we stood at the end of the bridge, a few meters away to give it space), it hesitated and hung uncertainly on the cable by its claws, wondering what to do next. Then, it hurriedly - for a sloth - started going back the way it came, and with every two steps, would look over its shoulder at us to see if we were still there.

Yep.

And so, after a few minutes of waiting and watching the poor creature backtrack unnecessarily at undoubtedly a record pace, we decided to pass it on the bridge and allow it to cross over in peace. That said, I got to see my first sloth about a foot away, looking bewildered at me in the low light of my headlamp. I can only hope that it got to the other side of the bridge alright, at least until the noisy group of middle school American kids find it.

Costa Rica, Pura Vida

2010-02-26T12:08:00.001-08:00

For the past week, I have been slowly adjusting to my new home in Costa Rica. My body is still not acclimated to how insufferably hot my house gets by 8-9am; the heat waves radiating from my awesome tin roof make for a pretty rude awakening. I've also been fighting an ongoing war against the little creatures (read: cockroaches, carpenter ants) that scavenge my kitchen for food scraps. However, with enough OCD cleaning, they seem to be backing off. We can only hope.

I haven't been working much in the field yet because our vehicle is out of commission. It broke down the day I arrived, so I've only worked two nights in the field...and by work, it was only three hours of looking for froggies instead of the usual six. However, we did find, just as we were wrapping up, an otherwise beautiful Scarlet-webbed Treefrog (Hypsiboas rufitelus) sitting atop a palm frond. Unfortunately, it had a serious case of chytrid fungus on its skin. Poor little guy.

On a brighter note, this little one, and presumably its family of five, decided to visit me at my office today (or rather, I saw jumping little red things and decided to catch one).

Strawbery Poison Frog (Oophaga pumilio)

I've got more than 50 frogs whose Latin names I need to memorize. This little one isn't too hard to remember since, clearly, it's just a poisonous strawberry with blue legs. Yet of course there are a ton of other interesting wildlife to lolligag at, so hopefully I'll get to learn their names too (birds are a bit impossible, but I think I'll be able to cover the herpetofauna at the very least). If only I could finish my office/lab work...

Chiapas, Mexico

2010-01-30T08:36:00.000-08:00

So I did my visa run to Mexico and have somehow gotten stuck here. But not in a bad way. The city where I am is full of history, culture, art, music...people seem so wealthy here, financially, compared to Guatemalans. But it's not a static, tourist Disneyland either like Antigua. Locals live here, frequent the historical center, and don't all live off tourism though it seems like plenty of them do. I manage to escape town by doing a work exchange on a nearby farm and it's hard work, clearing the beds of weeds, thinning out patches of carrots, or hauling sacks of compost all under a blazing, high altitude sun. The saving grace is getting to listen to the Zapatista version of NPR on a portable fm radio which plays not only mariachi and songs from the rebellion but segments of interesting public service announcements and of course, Zapatista propaganda.

Unfortunately, I have to keep this brief as my last post got deleted and the sun is out. Will update again soon.

Christmas in Xela and a 2-month update

2009-12-27T13:08:00.000-08:00

This past Christmas was the first time I spent the holiday away from my family. In Guatemala, everyone celebrates Christmas the day before. So, for Christmas Eve dinner, my flatmate and I baked our respective comfort foods: a pavlova (she's a Kiwi) and an apple crisp (I'm very North American). We then went over to my host father's aunt's house and watched Willy Wonka the remake, which was super creepy, and listened to firecrackers going off all over town. Everyone loves setting off fireworks in Guatemala to celebrate something, whether it's just a birthday or a national holiday, and so rarely a day goes by without me hearing them. It's also not just kids who do it. Even middle-aged folk have fun lighting them on the sidewalk and scurrying away to escape the deafening noise. But anyways, I digress. Once the clock struck midnight, the entire family and I went around the table hugging one another and wishing each other Feliz Navidad. It was very comforting for me to be welcomed into my host father's family, especially since I am so far away from my own. We then had a traditional dinner of paches as they say in Xela, otherwise known as tamales, the former being of potatoes, the latter of rice, before exchanging gifts.

On Christmas Day, some friends and I attended an epicurean potluck dinner at a communal yoga house. After satisfying our stomachs with macaroni and cheese, vegetable stew, mashed potatoes, and other savory delights, we sat around a fire ablaze in an old metal drum on the terrace, drinking wine and exchanging real life ghost stories. It was not something I would ever think of doing on or associate with Christmas, but it was certainly a memorably chilling night for all.

Today, I was supposed to go on a hiking trip but instead, I came down with a cold. Admittedly, I am feeling rather restless as I have been in Xela for nearly two months and am anxious to explore the rest of this incredibly beautiful country. The landscape, formed by volcanic activity, is nothing like anything I have seen before. From pine-cypress highland forests, to humid and misty cloud forests, to tropical lowlands and sunny beaches, Guatemala, as small as it is, has unbelievably rich cultural and biodiversity. It goes without saying that I have loved every hike I've gone on thus far and am eager to do more.

View of a chain of volcanoes from the top of Volcán Santa María

Looking down at Xela while descending Volcán Santa María

A sleepy morning in Santiago Atitlán, Lago de Atitlán

To update some of my older posts, I think my former Spanish teacher was a bit misinformed. There is a ton of foreign aid and investment in terms of development and well, the U.S. is “Guatemala's largest trading partner, providing 36% of Guatemala's imports and receiving 39.2% of its export.” There you have it. That means Levi's jeans are made in Guatemalan maquiladoras, labeled in the States, and sent back to Guatemala to be sold for an inflated price. What's more, I went to Xela's biggest paca, essentially a clothing flea market with piles and piles of clothes heaped on table after table, sometimes even in the bed of a pickup truck, most of which is sold for 1Q a piece (roughly 12 cents). While browsing through a row of jeans hanging on a wire, a familiar white and green tag caught my eye; it was none other than from Saver's, a thrift store chain I used to frequent quite often while living in the States.

On a brighter note, I would like to welcome the newest additions to our family.

Hamlet, the Great Dane. He's the biggest puppy I've ever seen.

Two new baby iguanas (other one not pictured).

I know bread's not exactly an animal, but it was a Christmas present I made for my host family because baking is something I have confidence in. Thanks goes to my father who cut out Jim Lahey of Sullivan Street Bakery's No Knead Bread recipe for me when it was first published in the New York Times back in 2006. I let the article collect dust in my desk for years until I had the guts to try baking yeasted breads last year. Since then, I haven't looked back.

Las Aves

2009-11-01T00:44:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure none of these birds are found around Xela, but they make for some interesting pets. One of the toucans always tries to eat my shoes with its long but feeble beak. The parrots, however, are way more annoying; they make for a most excellent, albeit unwanted, wake-up call usually around 6 o'clock in the morning (and at other random times too, of course). Far from pleasant, I assure you.

Blue crowned mot mot (Momotus momota)

Although they feign innocence, these parrots suck big time.
(Left: Juvenile White-Fronted Parrot, Amazona albifrons; Right: Red-Lored Parrot, Amazona autumnalis)

Keel-billed Toucan (Ramphastos sulphuratus)

Food Production & Campesino Protestors

2009-10-28T18:09:00.000-07:00

To elaborate on my previous post, I talked with my Spanish teacher today about Guatemala's export-based agricultural economy, and it seems like the U.S. does not play a great role in importing produce from Guatemala because of its relatively strict quality standards and demand for organic produce. That was not something I expected to hear since U.S. as well as German multinationals supply the bulk of chemical inputs (read: pesticides) and GMO food crops to Guatemala. Morever, most of exported produce is distributed to other Central American countries since they (from my teacher's perspective) have lower quality standards. I feel these claims need to be further reviewed when I am not busy studying Spanish. More to come later.

Another point in need of clarification is that the campesinos who are suffering the most from the drought are located in the corredor seco or the eastern highlands near the Pacific where the landscape is rocky and the soil so poor it is barely arable to begin with. Currently, the type of aid the government is giving consists of weekly packages of basic rations (eg. beans, rice). Despite the relative agricultural prosperity in other parts of the country, people in the west aren't getting local produce because they cannot afford it (and apparently neither can the government). No wonder there is talk of unrest. As we found out today, in anticipation of the protests, organizers of the cycling tour decided to change the route so that the cyclists wouldn't have to ride through an area of potential dissent. And so there we have it. Hopefully, the international aid that should have arrived today will help stave off malnutrition and starvation in that region for the time being. Ironically again, it is currently raining in Xela for the second night in a row.

Switching to our northerly neighbor, during "smoko" (aka mid-morning snack and tea time), we also read in today's paper that Obama has decided to dedicate significant funds to support renewable energy. Finally, some good news.

Second day in Xela

2009-10-27T20:29:00.001-07:00

Tonight concludes my second full day in Xela, the indigenous and more commonly used name for Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. When I arrived Sunday night, I was tired from a six-hour flight followed by a four-hour long ride on an old, dinged up coach bus that had no air conditioning. Not that I was expecting such luxury, but the heat was a heavy reminder of how thirsty I had become. At the time, I couldn't pronounce agua correctly so not even the flight attendants knew what I was asking for until I resigned myself to saying "water." Then, they would go, "Ohh, water." Right. So I tried not to focus on how dry my mouth had become and let the heat lull me to sleep. When I woke up, it was night, and the winding road we were driving down into the valley had no street lights. Completely pitched in the dark, our bus sped around sharp turns rather quickly, but not as quickly as sleeper buses in China or the popular camionetas, old school buses from the States painted and driven outrageously like souped up race cars. Several camionetas, or "chicken buses," had passed us throughout the course of the ride since they are the cheapest and main way of getting from town to town.

With that said, I didn't really get to see Xela that first night. My language school director quickly ushered me to my host family's house where my host mom gave me a warm welcome and dinner consisting of the traditional huevos, frijoles, y pan. The next day, from 8am-1pm, I went to class and began my struggle to say more than just si. I think I'm learning rather quickly, but it still feels incredibly isolating not being able to hold a real conservation with anyone yet. Por suerte, my host parents know a little bit of English, so we are able to communicate with one another in 'Spanglish', but needless to say, our conversation is extremely limited.

Nevertheless, I am quite fond of what I have seen of Xela. Each block usually consists of one large building subdivided into small shops that are differentiated by their variegating, brilliant colors. Every street, all made of variously sized cobblestone, is also one way which makes walking off the fairly narrow, elevated sidewalk easier if you know which way traffic is going. The only downside I have found so far is not being able to go out for a stroll alone at night for safety reasons.

This afternoon, my school and I went to see the home stretch of Guatemala's national cycling tour (vuelta de Guatemala) which is a huge deal here. Each segment of the tour takes place in a different part of the country; this morning, the cyclists started riding from the coast and finished in Xela, an elevation gain of over 2,000 meters. Intense, to say the least. Because this competition is so popular, there were rumours of a farmers' protest that threatened to interfere with the race in order to garner publicity. Guatemala has suffered from a particularly severe drought this year, especially in other regions of the country (Xela is fortunate not to have suffered as much), and so people, mainly in rural areas, do not have enough food to eat. Apparently, government aid has not been sufficient, and so farmers want higher subsidies. Although Guatemala has a president and congress, citizens actually do not have much sway over their elected (and sometimes appointed) officials, therefore, they rely on protests and the news to express their opinions. However, no protest took place today which leaves me wondering what happened.

Ironically enough, after the race, I walked through an impressively large farmers' market brimming with fresh produce. Completely lining the streets were Mayan women sitting by their large wicker baskets which overflowed with fruits and vegetables. These, I was told, were the leftovers of produce not exported to the U.S. for whatever reasons. Kind of like locally grown coffee, the finest ground is sent to the States while Guatemalans drink commercially produced, instant coffee at home; local, high quality coffee is simply beyond the means of the people who produce it.

Sedentary? Not for much longer.

2009-10-05T16:17:00.000-07:00

I anticipate being on the move again. Call this the gap year I never took. Looking back upon my last year of school, I wonder if I really got anything out of it. During my brief visit back a few weeks ago, I garnered much more advice from professors and clarity on what could unfurl, on what my future could hold, than I ever got when I was still a student. Such is life I suppose. So many people go through university without much direction or passion; perhaps it is the rigidity of class structures (the ever prevailing lecture style form of education) that brutally suppresses one's inner drive through the demoralizing feeling of seemingly being unable to learn the material. Whatever the case may be, I am taking the time, right now, to figure out exactly what I am interested in doing for a good long time. Who knows, maybe I won't have to go back to school at all. I am beginning to realize that the structured, linear path and the spontaneous, unpredictable path do not have to be and probably never are (despite people's delicate, detailed planning and the family's neverending concerns) mutually exclusive.

Starting Over

2008-10-23T16:17:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm sedentary, I'm going to turn this blog into a booklist/showcase for some art whether it's mine or just stuff I find inspiring.

Back in the World by Tobias Wolff

This is a collection of short stories by Wolff which detail anecdotes from a whole array of characters. I have not yet read every short story in this book, but so far, I have been really impressed by what I have read. Wolff has a concise, compelling way of framing even the most plain dialogue and action into something more complex. Take for example, a six-page story where racism is brought up between a married couple while doing the dishes together. The woman tests her husband by asking if he would marry her, given she was black (it is assumed they are both white). After a number of times asking, he finally says yes. But, that is not enough. Or perhaps by the time he says yes, it is already too late.

PS. While I was looking for a photo of the book, I found the website of a couple who has done a pan-American bike tour as well as a small circuit around Asia: http://www.backintheworld.com/

As the deadline approaches...

2008-05-13T01:57:00.000-07:00

...I get more and more stressed out.

Friends, imagine if you were doing a DR and then had to switch topics midway but still had to do the same amount of fieldwork. That is my situation where I switched organizations midway through since the first one gave me an over a week-long vacation to do nothing. My previous supervisors did not seem interested one bit in helping me develop my studies, so after waiting for them to return to the office (2-3 days after they said they would), I packed up my bags and left. Thankfully, another organization has taken me under their wing and are much more enthusiastic about helping. This, unfortunately, does not change my deadline.

My only solace is going to a cafe, a 4-yuan drive away, and sitting down amongst my thoughts and constant searching for useful articles.

---

Edit: OK, finally got out of my own world to address the earthquake that just happened. I guess I just feel relieved that my classmates and I are all OK. The organization I am working with is organizing a relief effort amongst ten universities in our province. Hopefully, I will be able to assist with the relief effort in any way I can. Condolences go out to anyone injured by the disaster or those who know people who have been.

End.

虎跳峡 - Tiger Leaping Gorge

2008-05-07T07:27:00.000-07:00

I'm really glad I didn't have to wear these shoes when I went hiking. They died a while ago and the duct tape only lasted so long when the right sole is about to split in half. RIP Chacos.

Pictures from Tiger Leaping Gorge...(really quickly edited, sorry no time!)

The Yangze River

This one was sunbathing before I surprised it. Someone ID please?

View of the sunset from the guesthouse

Random mountain goats the next morning

Found this skinker while climbing back up the mountain after taking the wrong path. ID?

Local woman and her horses

All and all, TLG was worth the two-day hike. The 28 Bends (aka switchbacks) were a pain but offered great views of the gorge and the Yangze River. The first day was the hardest, a 6-hour hike mostly uphill on gravel road and dirt trails. The next day I accidentally took the wrong path down the mountain and had to go up again, adding two extra hours to the normally 3-4 hour traverse and then downhill. Could've been my poor map-reading skills or the lack of signs. Still worth it.

Next post - Meili Snow Mountain.

So clearly...

2008-05-02T03:18:00.000-07:00

...it's not a good idea to drink before acclimating to a higher elevation. Unfortunately, I was too tired yesterday to be intelligible after a hard morning hike where I took the wrong path down a mountain and had to go up again. Well, after all that and a three-hour bus ride, I thought I well-deserved a cold beer. Later last night, I regretted it.

I spent all day recovering from a hard hike with I'm pretty sure 30lbs. I don't know why my backpack is that heavy. I will drop off some stuff before doing my next hike. Will post pictures soon. Hurray for Labor Day week off.

And if anyone's curious how my project is going, it's not!

Things that remind me of dry 07

2008-05-01T07:21:00.000-07:00

... drinking a cold stubbie of VB on my birthday
... randomly seeing a Boney M CD in a music shop
... cringing at the mention of 'Balderdash'
... [possibly] hearing bats squabble at night
... reading the word 'acacia' in a book
... playing Spider Solitaire while waiting for the internet to load
... hearing a bunch of Aussies mention, 'The Great Australian Wave' on a bus ride
... noticing that an older man, from Queensland, in aforementioned group was wearing stubbies, a t-shirt, and a vest, Landcare-style....

...and may there be many more.

Chinese Animals

2008-04-21T00:44:00.000-07:00

Animals in different contexts.

From the zoo:

Domestic life:

Restaurant window:

Skinker!

2008-04-12T20:21:00.000-07:00

So a friend just found a lil skinker, probably on the street. Someone want to help ID it?

Cherry blossoms

2008-04-12T20:01:00.000-07:00

So I’ve felt pretty restless the past month. I’ll admit that. Being in a large city that seems endless, boundary-less, is overwhelming at times. Disorientating. Even depressing.

I’m burning out pretty much. I’m done with academia. Done with group field trips. Done with a local who’s never been abroad but loves the US and doesn’t know why. Done with every person who thinks that way.

Unfortunately, that’s almost all young people here. Maybe I’m just sick of the gross romanticizing. People don’t realize that to earn money in the US, they have to be filthy rich to even get there. To even be able to live and eat there.

I’m ready for a change of pace and of scenery. I keep thinking about how much I want an easygoing lifestyle back. Everyday I watch my waistline grow as my host mother tries to get me to eat more and more. Normally, I wouldn’t care that much but here, I feel an insane amount of pressure to care about my self-image. To blend in. And while that sometimes happens, I don’t ever want that kind of blending in to happen. I never want to lose my own identity. I just don’t know how to keep it and not over-insist it. Sui bian. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing with my life. Don’t we all?

2008-04-08T02:09:00.000-07:00

Remember when your parents told you to look twice before crossing a road? Well, in China, you have an option. Either, you run for it and hope that that car speeding towards you doesn’t nick you at the last minute or, you check about five times each way. In any case, you have to be an opportunist if you ever want to get to the other side of the road.

Unlike in New England, drivers don’t stop for pedestrians. They don’t really care if you stand in the middle of the road, that is, with a whole row of other people. Cars will back up into a sidewalk, about a foot from where you’re sitting eating lunch, taxis will barely slow down if someone runs in front of them, and not to mention buses. Those buses, packed to the doorway with people, won’t break for anything. Everyone’s responsible for themselves and that goes for just about everything else you do in China. Certainly cuts down on the number of people suing each other.

Posting again

2008-03-31T01:16:00.000-07:00

Welcome. I decided it would be nice to have a blog that actually has pictures. Hopefully I'll update this one more regularly than my last.

This is from my spring break travels...

An old street in town, a rare sight, that's being turned into...

...modern architecture! Seems like China is undergoing constant construction and reconstruction.

A pretty typical street full of garage-like shops and restaurants that don't have storefronts.

A father and daughter flying their kite in what we fondly call 'the rubble,' empty dirt lots found in every city.