Tibet Train gets Bad Review

by Neil Woodburn on

The first group of westerners have finally been allowed on the new Tibet railroad and the reviews have been extraordinarily horrendous–at least according to one journalist writing for The Telegraph.

Suzy Bennett traveled on the high altitude train from Golumd to Lhasa and seemingly enjoyed the views (how can you not?) but grew increasingly frustrated with inside of the train. She claims that the service is “appalling” with meal services on the 15-hour journey consisting mostly of fried yak meat. In addition, “the seats are bolt upright; the toilets are squat-style; and a nerve-grating soundtrack of Chinese-style Country & Western music is playing over the stereo.”

As the train heads upwards, Bennett starts to get some altitude sickness in the form of a headache while items around her, such as ball point pens and cosmetics, explode from the pressure.

Wow, I hadn’t expected such a negative review.

Apparently, however, not everyone was suffering. One couple allegedly joined the mile-high club while en route.

Hong Kong Travel Essay

by Erik Olsen on

There are lots of places in the world I’d like to go, but there are significantly fewer where I’d like to live. I wish I could say I’ve lived more places. The experience of living abroad is one that every single American should experience at some point in his or her lifetime. And while I’ve had the opportunity to go a couple of great places and rent an apartment, shop at the local store, get to know some locals, one place I have not even visited is Hong Kong. But it is so high on my list of places I’d like to go that I always keep an eye out for articles on Hong Kong.

And so imagine my surprise as I was reading last night the 2006 Best American Essays (I get several books in this series every year and highly recommend them) and I came across this essay called City Out of Breath by Ken Chen. Beautifully-written, the essay is both a travel story and a voyage of discovery for Chen and his father, who find in Hong Kong a vibrant city of “energy and flashy contradictions”, an electric admixture of Asian and Western” where “walking becomes an act of silent storytelling, figuring people out.” I was surprised to see the essay in this particular collection because the Best American series already has a whole volume dedicated to travel, but I’m also glad I found it, because as I was sitting alone in my bad last night reading Chen’s essay, I was reminded once again how much Hong Kong appeals to me, how much I can’t wait to go there someday…or perhaps even to live there.

Red Corner: Painting Mao

by Neil Woodburn on

One of the first things one notices upon stepping into Tiananmen Square in Beijing is the massive, three-story tall painting of Mao Zedong. Like every other tourist to pass through this famous square, I too snapped a handful of photos of this gargantuan visage.

I didn’t give the portrait much thought after my first sighting and went quickly on my way. Like everything else in China, however, the painting has a fascinating story behind it. According to a recent article in the Los Angeles Times by Ching-Ching Ni, this famous portrait is “freshened up” every year and replaced by a brand new version created by an anonymous artist.

In typically secret Chinese fashion, the whole process is kept under tight secrecy; Mao’s big mug is painted in a secret, fireproof art studio in the corner of Tiananmen Square, his artists are never identified, and no one is allowed to put their name on the final painting. The Times estimates that at least six artists have worked the Mao shift in the last 57 years. One of them, surprisingly interviewed for the article, commented that, “Mao’s face must be painted extra red to show his robust spirit.” This same artist was chastised early in his career for painting a Mao at an angle with only one ear showing. According to The Times, “the Red Guards said it implied that the chairman listened to only a select few rather than all of the masses.”

Mao may be long dead, and communism on the way out, but, as one can tell by the near religious devotion to this painting, the Chinese government still has a need for the Chairman and all that he represents.

Kayaking the Li

by Iva Skoch on

You’ve all seen those Chinese watercolor paintings that hang in every Chinese restaurant and shop, that show the limestone karsts rising above a tranquil river. Typically, there’s a person on a bamboo raft, with a conical hat, on that painted river. Well, that Shangri-La actually exists. And it’s called the Li River.

The Li stretches between Yangshuo and Guilin, in the interior of China, in the Guangxi province.

The best place to experience the Li is starting from the village of Yangshuo (pop. over 300,000–i.e., a mere village in China), nestled in the tree-covered hills and karsts surrounding the river. It’s an hour or so from nearby Guilin (a small “town” of over 1.3 million). Now, be sure to get on the right bus to Guilin–unlike we did–because you could end up some 300 miles to the south, in Yulin, due to a slight pronunciation error. But that’s another story…

In Yangshuo, we stayed in a hotel called the Bamboo House. A double room with a view, A/C, a TV, DVD player and dozens of bootleg DVDs (why?) was only about $14 USD.

You can arrange to rent kayaks from the folks at the hotel. Early morning, they drove us deep into the country and let us off at the river’s edge with a couple of cheap kayaks and very vague directions on where we’d meet our pick-up later that day. We had the river to ourselves.

It was beautiful: white birds flew over the calm water. Water buffalo waded in to watch us pass. Storm clouds passed the nearby mountains. Occasionally, a fisherman on a skiff would pass by. There, we had the only peace and quiet we experienced anywhere in China. Just like in the watercolor paintings.