Cambodia, Part II: Spiders, Snakes, & Scorpions

 

After five hours on a bus from Phnom Penh to central Cambodia which in normal circumstances would have taken around two we were more than happy to arrive at our homestay.  Five long, slow hours on a rickety bus on which we were forced to watch Cambodian comedies that were piped into speakers at a deafening level left us tired and not a little cranky. Adding to that, the roads were terrible, similar to the roads in the Rocky Mountains which are not really roads, boasting signs that say, 'Travel at your own risk. This road is not maintained'.  Well the CDOT hasn't seen anything.  I feared we would drive into a deep pothole, tumble to one side, and slide into the roadside Mekong backwater. We moved at a snail's pace, bumping along and at several points I thought we'd have to do a repeat of the 'push your transportation' game we had played in Phnom Penh! At the three hour mark we stopped at a 'truck-stop' for busses. Available for purchase for our eating pleasure were myriads of the famous insect snacks of Cambodia, including my favorite, the Tarantula!  No, I didn't eat any!  

Hut Sweet Hut

 

We stayed a couple nights in the countryside to gain an understanding of rural Cambodian life. The homestay was located down a narrow, overgrown path. At the end stood three small bungalows on stilts made of bamboo and straw thatch and a similar grounded hut for 'doing one's business', along with a larger bungalow which held the 'kitchen' and the family's sleeping quarters. An American man of late age greeted us and the small Cambodian woman to whom he was married showed us to our hut. She explained that we should be sure to have our flashlights before dark, as there was no electricity or candles, and also to shut the door so snakes couldn't get in. I thought perhaps the local snakes must be the polite kind as I noticed between the bamboo walls a three inch gap running floor to ceiling. After a welcome lemongrass tea on their rustic patio, witnessing the woman kill a snake of undetermined variety, followed by a discourse by the American on the dangers of snake bites in Cambodia and how we should be very careful to watch where we stepped, it was suggested that we take our nature walk. (Oh, JOY!) It was noted that my leather sandals wouldn't do. She said, "You must wear these", handing me a pair of flip flops - the flimsy kind, what I call shower shoes. I obediently donned them while thinking, 'Really? I'm really going to walk in the jungle along the Mekong wearing these'? I questioned her - she insisted and explained simply, "Too much mud for leather sandals". Okay, if you say so.

 

Biking is the way to go!



Off we went. I began to say things like, "How cool!", and "Wow, this is the real deal!'.. but inside I was uneasy as thus far the experience was reminding me of scenes from 'Deliverance'. We walked slowly in the direction of the Mekong along a muddy dirt road, avoiding stray cattle and deep potholes filled with dark water and mud. Villagers peeked around fences from their plots of land, saying, 'hello', or 'sua s'dei'.

Skinny cow in the alley

 

 

All too happy to smile for the camera!

 





 

Giggling children ran alongside us, happy to have a distraction from their daily routines. The greetings coming from these neighbors made us feel much more comfortable and despite the intense moist heat we began to relax. We walked on raised ground which outlined watery, green rice fields, as our hostess told us the importance of this river; how the Mekong rises during the rainy season, flooding the land, enabling the farmers to grow rice, thereby giving life to the people. Just as the charm of the tour began to work it's magic on me, I felt a slippery, slithery something slide across my right foot and plop into the rice paddy on my left. I screamed of course, then a heated discussion ensued between our guide and her children on what the creature might have been. The young boy insisted it couldn't have been an eel because, "Eels are not stupid, they are afraid of us! It must have been a snake!" The mother contended it was a fish. (That was NO fish!) Chris said he thought it was an eel, while I stood stunned and uncharacteristically quiet, wishing I were instead having a pedicure or massage in a nice air-conditioned spa. 

Looking happy - pre-slithering slimy thing

Thus began my two day bout of whimpering. Nevertheless, on we walked, being delayed a second time due to stray cattle getting into the family garden.  It wasn't much of a garden, really, just trees and grass, but those cows were helping themselves to the grass which was designated for family cows only. We had been wondering why she had brought along a three foot long scythe with a two foot blade, and now saw an example of how handy dandy that blade could be. She quickly and deftly swung downward the implement over a thick bamboo grove and produced three long poles, perfectly suited for swatting cattle. Over the fence holding a bamboo pole went each of them, and as they swatted we began to hear shouting, none of which we understood, of course - cows in Cambodia speak Khmer!

A handy but menacing tool

Ra swatting stray cattle

Crisis number two resolved, we finally reached the Mekong where the children played and swam.  I must say I couldn't believe how the children and adults alike just easy peasy walked into that water, shoulder high, to fish or play. Uhm, no freaking way would I do that.  It's true that I swam in the Harpeth River a few times as a child, and it's also true there are poisonous snakes in the Harpeth, but somehow this was really different. Aside from the snakes and leeches - a landfill was piled high just next to the spot where children swam and fishermen gathered their daily catch.

Ra and Na swimming in the Mekong 

A young boy tends his mother's rice fields

As their mother called them from the water, they continued playing like most children would do - avoiding the reality that playtime was over. Finally emerging from the water, the daughter began to scream - blood curdling screams. She had been stung by a large black scorpion. Screams of agony caused me to freeze in my tracks as the mother sucked poison out of the wound. There was nothing to be done except to rush her back to the house, using short cuts through unchartered and weedy, wet fields as her screams continued. My flimsy flip flops were no match for the deep, dark mud, and as they continued to be sucked into the sludge I was sure I was living a nightmare. At last we arrived back at the huts and although the girl was injured, she was going to be okay.  

Post Scorpion trauma

In light of the challenges this family lives with, I admire the mother more than I could express. A survivor of the Pol Pot regime, she is a loving mother, a friendly and welcoming host, and worked all day and into the night without complaint as far as I could tell. She does this without the aid of any modern conveniences, even simple ones like lighting or running water. Her kitchen is a dark place, even during the day, yet she produced some amazing meals for us. Very tasty indeed. The balance of flavors, the interesting combinations - I was impressed.

As for sleep, well, we didn't get very much, but when we left after two days, I was changed. Just knowing that people live like that - having experienced the reality of what it is like - has made its mark on both of us.  We have never been more appreciative of our blessings.

   

                                                                                       

Dear Violet,
This is the shower and toilet room. But there is no shower. There is just a garbage can filled with water with a scoop to pour cold water over your head. But you have to do it quickly because mosquitos find you fast and there are also spiders living in there. Aunt Becky wouldn't use it in the night because she is afraid of snakes!
Love,
Uncle Chris      

Cambodia, Part I: Phnom Penh

 

I could never express fully what we saw during our week in Cambodia.  I'll say that I learned a lot and was very impressed with the resilience of the people.  They suffered unspeakable horrors from 1975-1979 - including the genocide of at least 30% of their population (mostly educated adults), leaving them with a country consisting predominately of youth.  

 

 In Phnom Penh we visited the S-21 museum which was really depressing, even traumatizing.  If you haven't read "First they killed my Father", by Loung Ung, please do.  It is a quick read and is written from the perspective of a survivor, a young girl who lived a pleasant life in Phnom Penh until the Khmer Rouge took control of the city. Within 3 days her family was forced out of town, then subsequently separated, tortured, starved, and some murdered, simply because they were middle class, educated citizens.

  



A bright spot in Phnom Penh was our visit to a Romdeng, a training restaurant which helps street children get off the street, teaching them English and practical skills.  It's run by Friends International and was truly inspiring.  The kids were charming and worked hard to please us. They seemed happy to practice their English with us, and the food was really delicious, too!

Smiling faces welcomed us! 

Despite the rain, we received excellent service

 

 



There are many of these restaurants in Cambodia. They are making a difference, but the presence of street children really is overwhelming. One evening as we were approaching a restaurant, I noticed just next door on the street three children, ages looked to be around age 4 or 5, digging through the trash. It was pouring rain and they were half-clothed. No one around stopped to look. We walked into the restaurant and I began to bawl...couldn't stop crying the whole meal. My instincts told me to buy a pizza for them, and indeed I have done similar things before in the face of need. But highly emphasized  by people who live and work for non-profits in Cambodia is that the children are actually harmed by 'compassionate tourists' who give them money, buy things from them, or feed them. Literature is placed in hotel lobbies, restaurants, train stations, asking tourists not to buy from or give to children on the streets. Apparently in most cases, their desperate parents force them to work on the streets which means they have no chance to become eduated. This continues as long as people patronize them. It's just a heartbreaking cycle. I don't even know what to say about it.  I just know that as I filled my belly, my heart felt like it was breaking. 

 

 

The rain here is like nothing I've ever seen.  Due to a deluge, we actually had to get out of one of our tuk tuks and help the driver push, with water up to our knees!  I'll never forget that experience.  Business as usual in Phnom Penh.

 

 



 

 

Dear Violet,

 

Aunt Becky and I rode around in a tuk tuk in Cambodia in a big city called Phnom Penh. It was raining so hard -we got very wet!  These boys look like they are enjoying playing in the rain, don't you think?  Can you find Phnom Penh on your map?

 

Love, Uncle Chris

 

                                                  

 



Tofu Kung-Fu

A village girl helps her mother in the garden

Harvesting rice and preparing it for drying

We had many wonderful moments in China! Chris and I spent a fantastic day learning to make tofu in the traditional way on an organic farm, where the family has been growing and raising practically everything they consume for generations.  Their farm is very impressive - most of the energy comes from solar or methane from pig manure which is pumped into their house - they even use it to power their stoves.

Most Chinese people buy their tofu in the market but Peter and his family make tofu using home-grown soy beans, crushing them into paste in an antique stone mill, then draining the paste through cheesecloth.  The milk is then heated and mixed with a powder and the curds separate from the whey. The curds are then pressed into tofu. The process takes 2-3 hours.

Making paste from soybeans in a ratio of 2 parts soy to 1 part water
 

A real workout - Tofu KungFu!

Leftover soy solids go to the happy pigs!

Thank you...I'm so happy! 

  Forming trays ready for the curds

Pressing the curds to solidify the tofu

 

 

Cutting the tofu

 

  Landscape Tofu - a local Yangshuo dish 

The majority of Chinese are Buddists, but we were told us that most people are not very religious these days, but they are quite superstitious. The Chinese government is hostile against Christians and they can be severely punished for their beliefs.  After meeting several Christians, Chris and I attended their Bible study. I had nightmares that night of being thrown into a Chinese prison! From the church members we were told that in spite of the persecution they face, and the secrecy in which they must conduct their meetings, the Church there is growing. Although I can't speak Chinese, I understood the fervent prayers they prayed were serious - they depended on God for everything.  It's so easy to say that I trust Him, and I do try to, but it just seemed more palpable for them. When one's life is at stake, it must take great courage and faith to be a believer. I was inspired and humbled by their witness.

After a full day of exhausting travel out of China, we arrived at a lovely little hotel in Bangkok. Having only 3 rooms, this hotel was more like a B&B.  The traditional Thai decor somehow reminded me of the 'Old South': gracious, lovely, inviting. The narrow mahogany stairs going up to our room are the steepest I've ever seen, and I hoped we wouldn't have to attempt a fire escape on them during the night!  There are only a handful of tourists in this area, an old Bangkok neighborhood very near the King's palace. The buildings are two stories high and together they create a park-like quadrangle around which they form the neighborhood. Our hotel has been renovated with careful attention to the historic architecture. It is simple and charming. In our room we have original flooring, old rattan benches and an antique armoire, yet all the modern conveniences one could need. I wrote the following after a restful night's sleep:

It's 5 a.m. and I've just been awakened by loud clanging outside our window. To keep their street stall restaurants secure, vendors thread chain link through anything that might be carried off in the night, and our hotel is located just across the street from such a vendor.  He must serve a popular breakfast because he is moving a lot of seating. Bright orange and blue chairs stacked shoulder high are twirled around and around across the street and over the curb until they reach their destination on a brick patio in a park, next to some type of game court. It's a pretty efficient way to move furniture as he has no trolley. In five short minutes he manages to set up what looks like will be a hopping eatery. He's cleared off his 'kitchen' and wiped down the stainless steel worksurface. He keeps his condiments hidden in the hole where the wok will later lay. He pulls things out of the hole: bowls, containers, steamers, rice flour, and a bin full of what looks like silverware. He's arranging everything now. He opens a basket which is filled with smaller jars of condiments and places them on the tables. A stack of 3 or four plastic stools has been topped with a large water cooler. A lady has just begun to help him and a man on a moto just stopped by, chatting, hoping for some early breakfast, but leaves unfed. 

Deliveries are made on cycles that have been stabilized by two large front wheels, spaced about two feet apart, topped with a very large basket. I can see them all over the neighborhood making their morning rounds. One cycle stops across the street, its basket laden with large sacks of rice, fresh bean sprouts, scallions, and rice noodles of various sizes. On the back of the cycle is a tall stack of fresh white kitchen towels, which is tied tightly to the bike to prevent the towels from flying away as he rides through the streets.  He hands over a small bag to the woman, then moves along. She begins to chop the newly delivered fresh rice sheets into fat noodles, stacking and rolling them and hacking away without precision. When that job is done she begins to slice the scallions. He is lighting the aluminum firebox next to his stall which has a six foot chimney that curves away from his awning at the top. I think the smoke will attract the neighbors, and perhaps Chris will wake up and we will have some breakfast in the courtyard.

A Little Rafting

A simple bike ride from our hotel to the famous Moon Hill left us disoriented and lost.  Unknowingly, we ended up traveling in a big circle and landed just a stone's throw from our hotel.  Apparently we missed the 'lane' to the right after the bridge, and took the left path instead.  Seriously, that must have been one narrow, brush covered lane.  We came to a dead end at a river just behind several British students who seemed as confused as we were considering they had asked us for directions a few miles back, and we had confidently told them which way to go.  Come to think of it they seemed slightly annoyed with us. As we were descended upon by the bamboo raft operators who in Chinese explained that our bikes would be safe, we each negotiated our passing fare.  Ten Yuan.  Fair enough.

Crossing the Yulong

We tentatively stepped onto the long, flat 'boat' as water began rushing through the large spaces between each bamboo pole.  No seat, just a slight rise on each end on which we were instructed to sit.  Okay, no problem.  Chris and I became separated from our bikes as our lady captain began to paddle the boat across the river using only a bamboo pole.  It was a deep river and the pole had not so much as a slight spread as a paddle on the end.  Just a bamboo pole.  I am still wondering how she moved us across that river so quickly.  Safely on the other shore, we were approached by several old women holding squirt guns.  They wanted us to buy them.  Hmmm...let's see.  What would happen if I were to squirt Chris with that river water...don't think he'd get over that one very quickly.  I passed on the squirt gun.

The river is called the Yulong.  It is a tributary of the larger Li River.  The Yulong is said to be one of the cleanest rivers in China.  It looks clean.  Many tourist go to the swimming holes along the river and I noticed at least one 'beach club'.  We are going to pass on the swimming also.

 




Just one of many 'tour guides' on the Yulong River

There must be thousands of bamboo rafts in different spots along the Yulong.  They are simple vessels. Seven or eight bamboo poles tied together, topped with not so comfortable looking lounge chairs protected by a beach umbrella.  Tourist flock to these and make a day of rafting down the river while being guided along by a local with a bamboo pole.  The squirt guns are part of the fun, apparently, but as I said we passed on that. 

Dear Violet:
Uncle Chris does not like pumpkin.  But that's what I was served for lunch yesterday. Good thing I had super nuclear hot chili soy sauce to go with it.  I would pick up a piece of pumpkin with my chopsticks and drop it into the pepper sauce before I ate it.  It was so spicy in my mouth I couldn't taste the pumpkin.
Love, Uncle Chris

The Great Firewall

The view of the Kaarst mountains from the courtyard restaurant at our hotel

They call it "The Great Firewall of China' and it has blocked me from using my blog and facebook. I've just managed to get over it this morning. I apologize that this post is quite long, as it is a compilation the past week.

From Hong Kong, our three-hour bus ride to Guanghou through the border town of Shenzen was comfortable and fairly easy. However at Shenzen, when passengers got off the bus as the driver made announcements confusion overcame us. We gestured to official looking people, and they replied with gestures as well, pointing us in a direction we followed. We were strangely comforted by a large sign, "FOREIGNERS", and after waiting in that line we were through to China. (We giggled thinking about how offensive that sign would be considered in the US!)

The bus dropped us off at the Marriot Hotel in Guangzhou, where we saw a group of Americans with their newly adopted Chinese children. It was sweet to see them, especially the older couples who had adopted special needs children. One child that stood out was a little Albino boy - white skin, white hair, but obviously Chinese. I wonder how different his life will be now, and was blessed to think of all the love he will receive from his new parents.

The Marriot was very familiar, with it's English signs and Western comforts, so in our pride, we agreed to leave for the train station immediately, to be immersed in the 'real' China. When we arrived by taxi 5 minutes later, our hearts sank...nothing recognizable, nothing familiar. I know, we are in China. We should have expected it to be hard. But no foreknowledge could not have prepared us for this. A sea of people was moving like a million ants, with purpose, with knowledge of where they were going, while Chris and I were just standing, staring, lost; the longer we stood with blank expressions, the more hawkers we attracted, who began yelling at us to 'buy, buy' or 'you like, you like'... We were glad to remember Jesse's lesson in Chinese, "WO BU YAO" (meaning, I don't want it). The station plaza was as big as 5 football fields and completely full of people. The temperature was around 95 with a humidity of around 95%, our backpacks were too heavy, sweat was pouring down every inch of our bodies, and the assault of traffic and people left us feeling that we were in way over our pampered heads. Nevertheless, we marched on to the station ahead, where we unfortunately discovered that there were no cozy waiting rooms or lovely little quaint restaurants in which to pass the next 6 hours. Just a crowd of people, sitting and lying on mats and towels, crouched around their belongings, chomping on chicken feet and instant noodle bowl ramen. Hmmmm....what to do? We were completely overwhelmed. Yes, that Marriot was sounding really nice just about then; we happily tucked in our tails, took a cab straight back there, where we ate lunch and had our feet massaged in air-conditioned comfort.

Chris knew we were in for a long night on the train, as we would be sharing a sleeper berth with two strangers. He began to pray that we'd have English speaking berth-mates, with whom we could share some conversation...We were exhausted and shell shocked, and even a bit scared, to be honest. Our humor was high, though! There must have been between 50,000 people in the station, and we saw not one Westerner, so we knew we were asking for a miracle. When the time came to board, we finally saw some western faces - a tall man, a red-haired woman, and a blond baby. Chris said, "Wouldn't that be nice if they were our berth-mates?" I laughed like Abraham's Sarah. We were placed in the berth next to them; seconds later, the Chinese man in their room began to beg us in broken English to switch with him so he could be with his family who were in our room. When Chris quickly agreed, the man said, "You a good man, you a good man" to Chris. Indeed. I just have to say, 'Thank you, Lord", for listening to us and loving us enough to care.



Bamboo rafting on the Li River, Yangshuo, China

Yangshuo is a gorgeous place. People come here to see the egg-shaped limestone mountains and the famous Li river, on which they take bamboo raft trips. There must be thousands of rafts on this stretch of the river. As you walk along the river, hawkers follow and they don't easily give up. "You take raft. My uncle driver. Good raft. I tell you story". It's very difficult to convince them that you do not want to get on that raft of theirs.



The Giggling Tree Hotel

Our hotel is really sweet. The mattress has no fitted sheet, however, and the flat sheet barely covers the top of the matress and it tends to pull away from the sides in the night. I am a right hand sleeper so I've figured out that I have to turn counter-clockwise to prevent the mattress from becoming exposed. Ha! The bathroom is just that - a room. It has a toilet, which cannot take any paper products whatsoever (this is normal for China), which means even when you go poo (EHW), you have to toss the paper in the bin. It has a pedestal sink and a shower head and a tiled floor which becomes drenched and slippery when one of us takes a shower. They provide a squeegee mop to mop up the extra water on the floor. But overall, we are comfortable and happy here. They have a restaurant with an outside courtyard that overlooks farms and the mountains. The staff will do our laundry for $3 per kilo (2.2 pounds), and it hangs on the line behind the courtyard. Although it takes a long time to dry, due to the humidity, it's nice to have clean clothes without having to wash them in a sink.

The staff here is mostly young Chinese men and women. They are a little shy but they are all practicing their English and are eager to try out talking and having conversations with the guests. One of the girls converted to Jehovah's witness through a tourist, and when she realized we were Christians she asked many questions and seemed excited about talking to us about God. There's a boy waiter whose Western name is Cain. He said to Chris, "My name Cain, like in Bible. You tell me story of Cain". So Chris told him the sad story as carefully as possibly, and the boy was clearly devastated. He asked, "So Cain a good man or bad man?". Chris said, "He's a good man. He's like me. Sometimes he just didn't like what God told him."

The day we left Colorado, I was felt anxious and a little scared. I opened my brand new travel Bible randomly, and this where my eyes landed, "But I'll take the hand of those who don't know the way, who can't see where they are going. I'll be a personal guide to them, directing them through an unknown country. I'll be right there to show them which roads to take, make sure they don't fall into a ditch. These are the things I'll be doing for them, sticking with them, not leaving them even for a minute." Isaiah 42:15-16 The Message version.

Here it is very easy to see His care and mercy. Today, after our rainy kayak trip, we were drenched head to toe, and although our driver was conracted to drop us back at our hotel, he insisted that we get out on a busy street miles from our hotel. We had no idea where we were, with no way to tell another driver where to take us. The other passenger was Chinese but happened to speak perfect English; he looked up our hotel and called a cab for us and explained to the cab driver where we needed to go. Upon hearing this story, a good friend just wrote me and said, "Sometimes too much planning and preparation doesn't leave enough room for God". Too true.

West Street, Yangshuo, China

Dear Violet:
I  have sent you several postcards so far. I wonder how long they will take to reach you. Did you find Yangshuo on your map? It is a small town but there is lots of traffic, mostly motor scooters. People ride them crowded with their whole families. Yesterday I saw a boy standing on the platform of a scooter, playing cards in his dad's lap while his dad was weaving through traffic. Another time I saw 4 people on one scooter, with a baby in between them. It is very dangerous I think.
Love, Uncle Chris

Street scene near our hotel

Arriving in Hong Kong at 2 a.m. was a relief after a 27 hour journey.  Chris was thrilled to fly on the new Airbus A380 despite the accident with the Quantas plane last year in which shortly after takeoff one of the engines' parts basically started to fall off...he thoughtfully refrained from telling me about it. I was most impressed by the video cameras attached to the underbelly, tail, and nose which allowed passengers to view the takeoff and landings.  Pretty cool. 


A highlight of Hong Kong has been the cooking classes at Martha Sherpa, who is famous for teaching the proper techniques of Chinese cookery to tourists and professional chefs. The first day we learned Schezuan wok cookery, my favorite dish being the spicy noodle with fried eggplant, and the second day was Cantonese-style cuisine. I think my favorite thing was learning how to make a crispy and balanced sweet and sour pork. Notice in the picture how the sauce coats the pieces of pork and vegetables, but there is not a pool of sauce on the plate.  Good luck trying to find it cooked this way in any Chinese restaurant at home.  Apparently, we like our pork to swim...Anyway, as it was dinner time when class was over, I took leftovers to Chris and after an hour of tranport through the humid streets of Hong Kong, the pork was still crispy.  Amazing.



Sweet & Sour Pork

Cantonese prefer subtle flavor in contrast to Schezuan cooking in which firey hot burn is valued. One of my classmates was Cantonese American, and his family has a restaurant in Chicago. He was unable eat the eggplant dish, which had chili peppers, but I didn't find it too spicy. Overall, I learned that I knew very little which was correct about Chinese cooking and certainly I did not know how to use a wok properly. I felt shy and insecure, and it was quite humbling. A most challenging cuisine! I've got a lot to learn.

(Brent: the next paragraph may need to be paraphased for Violet)

We went for an early walk this morning and found ourselves in a meat market just as deliveries were being made.  A truck pulled up and opened its back door, and out jumped two men.  They each quickly pulled down a hanging pig, let it drop on the floor of the truck, then dragged it to the edge of the truck and slung it over their shoulder, after which they threw it on a vendor's table. Entrails tied together on a string like a necklace, hanging from a steel hook were casually tossed on the floor below the table.  These men were in a hurry.  The un-refridgerated truck was full of hanging pigs and the temperature outside was a balmy 90F.  The floor of the also un-airconditioned market was beginning to be covered in blood and guts.  As this was taking place, the vendor with his new pig and entrails was preparing for daily sausage making, setting up his grinder on the table on which the whole pig lay.  Imagine the aromas, oppressive heat, moisture, and blood. 

Freshly butchered meat hanging in the open air, ready for customers

Chickens across the aisle were getting their feathers ruffled as they were being prepared for slaughter, causing feathers to fly into the air just as we were walking by his stall. We instinctively covered our mouths to keep the dust from entering our lungs. At this point, we began to question the wisdom of being in this environment.  Chris was splattered with runoff as a vendor was spraying down the floor of his bloody stall with a hose - Chris started gagging...and all I could think about was that movie Contagion.  We got back to the hotel as quickly as we could where he showered vigorously with anti-bacterial soap. Breakfast was vegetarian.

Dear Violet,

Aunt Becky and I like to go walking in the mornings here in Hong Kong.  The park near the hotel is a place where old people go to do their exercise dancing.  They call it Tai Chi.  Ask your mom to google it on youtube. It is fun to watch. 

Love, Uncle Chris

Saying Goodbye

Our collection of travel-sized essentials

Today we are re-packing our backpacks, trying to make room in every nook of these quite small packs which will be the carriers of all our worldly goods for the next nine months.  Keeping the weight low enough to comforably carry on our backs is going to be tricky. It's difficult figuring out how to pack, knowing we'll be in towns where internet and cell service will be available, yet the likelihood of finding personal items such as Sensodyne toothpaste and Gold Bond powder is very low.  I'm starting to think that if we are concerned about such items, perhaps we're too old for such a journey!

Nevertheless, we have put all our belongings in storage, and we have committed to several teaching positions over the next few months, so off we go!

Tomorrow we leave for Hong Kong, where we hope to recover from jetlag before heading on an overnight train to Guilin, China on September 1st.  Your thoughts and prayers for a safe and productive trip are needed and appreciated!

Dear Violet: We're gonna have Chinese food today in Colorado and then we'll have the same things in Hong Kong when we arrive.  Do you think they will taste the same?  Can you find Hong Kong on your map?  We'll send a postcard as soon as we arrive!  Love, Uncle Chris