Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Storm Update

October 30, 2012

7:00 AM

It's still raining desultorily here and the trees are moving slightly but as though they're tired from all their previous enthusiasm, such as that was. Since the mayor yesterday barred all traffic from our streets except for emergency responders and until noon today, the streets are still strangely deserted, the street lights, now calm, making red and green reflections in the rain, alternating, to control traffic that does not exist. I still have electricity and never heard the roar of the storm that John Roman described as terrifying, from his home in Lewes. From the safety of my perch on the fourth floor of The Fitz, the storm was pretty much a dud.

After the shrill commentary from all three Baltimore TV stations all day yesterday, it was odd to turn on the TV at 2:00 AM this morning and find "Dr. Phil," "The Mysteries of Hercule Poirot," and the ubuiquitous advertising for exercise machines. Of course the three stations are back this morning with storm news - the number of deaths in Maryland (two), the number of houses in the city still without power (15,000) and photographs of snow in Western Maryland. And, of course, since no one can drive on Mount Royal Avenue (for instance), I have no morning paper. I guess I, at least, have been very lucky. Moving to an apartment has meant no worry about a tree falling on my house, a concern that my old neighbors on Linden Green still carry.

As light returns and the day progresses, I may venture out to explore Bolton Hill but unless there is more to tell, this will end my reportage on The Storm of the Century, or The Megastorm, or Frankenstorm, as TV commentary has called it. To me, it was just a steady rain and a little wind. Stay tuned? We'll see.

STORM UPDATE

October 30, 2012

2:00 AM

It appears here as though the worst has passed while I was sleeping. The rain continues, hard, and collects on the big windows in my living room where droplets form and run from somewhere near the top down to the bottom, like candles dripping wax. The trees are mostly quiet now and nothing in the street looks out of place. From my perch on the fourth floor, I can't see any damage. And although I hard boiled some eggs just so I'd have something to eat in case the electricity failed, it's still on. It looks like a normal night, with rain. I'll go back to bed to try to sleep some more and post again in the morning. Stay tuned.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Storm Update

October 29, 2012

8:30 PM

The rain is now coming down sideways and scudding across the streets in rippled sheets rushing toward the curb or wherever the wind is blowing it. The trees are dancing like partners in a lively jamboree, bouncing up and down and throwing their branches and leaves in many directions like a woman who might be celebrating the drying her hair. The city seems deserted, the stop lights swinging back and forth as though metronomes keeping time with the wind. The windows of The Fitz, designed to keep out the noise of the light rail that is so near, prevent me from having any sensation of the velocity of the storm; all seems quiet inside. The storm is now nearing the coast and I'm sure we'll have the worst of it yet to come but I'm tired of following it all day and will soon go to bed. If the storm wakes me in the night, I'll be back. Otherwise, I'll report again tomorrow. I feel sorry for the people on TV who have been there since four this morning, talking enthusiastically all day, trying to keep us interested in what may be a once in a lifetime occurance. Back tomorrow.  Stay tuned.

Storm Update

October 29, 2012

4:30 PM

I've just been talking to John Roman in Lewes, Deleware, who told me that the situation there is very dire. All of lower Lewes, from the bridge to the beach, is under water and the bridge is closed. The canal is rising and with a creek just behind Bill and John's house, they feel very surrounded, and threatened by water. All the roads in Delaware are closed so even if they could get out, they couldn't go anywhere. John says the rain is coming sideways and the trees around their house are bending dangerously. He's very afraid one of more of them will come down on their house. The connection was broken in the midst of our conversation and John called me back some time later to tell me that their power is now out. More later. Stay tuned.

Storm Update

October 29, 2012

3:30 PM

The wind is now blowing hard and loose debris is skittering across the streets like rats running for cover. The trees jump around as though they needed to go somewhere but can't quite decide which direction to head. The rain continues steadily although I can still see clearly from all my windows. The Maryland Transportation department has closed the Bay Bridge and the bridge across the Susquehanna on I 95, which is sure to disrupt major traffic (such as it is) going north and south. Our mayor has just declared the streets of our city closed to all vehicular traffic beginning at 6:00 PM and continuing until noon tomorrow, except for emergency responders. Still no problem here at The Fitz. I'm very snug and feel perfectly safe here on the fourth floor. But the storm is beginning, only beginning, to live up to its much vaunted reputation.
More later. Stay tuned.

Monday, October 29, 2012

10:30 AM

There's very little change from my last post. It's raining steadily, and perhaps a little harder than at 6:30 but there is no significant wind so far. The streets are wet and cars go by with their windshield wipers on but it's still easy to see through the rain.

Stay tuned

ANATOMY OF A MEGASTORM

Since some of you may be interested in the Megastorm now threatening the East Coast, I thought I might keep you posted on how it is here, in Baltimore, high and dry on the fourth floor of my apartment building. If the storm evolves in an interesting way, I’ll keep posting.




Monday, October 29, 6:30 AM

Our governor has declared a state of emergency for all of Maryland and the TV news has been full of dire predictions, closings, and shots of Jessica Cartalia in Ocean City, hunched in a poncho over her microphone wrapped in a plastic bag. But here, where I am, nothing seems ominous. In accordance with instructions from my building, I was sure all the windows and doors to the outside were closed and locked – did they think the wind would open a heavy, closed door? – before I went to bed last night but now that seems silly, and I missed the fresh air in my bedroom. From my living room, I can watch the storm as it progresses, if it does, and that seems far from real to me now and from here. My New York Times was outside my door this morning, as usual, and all seems normal. There’s a steady, if desultory rain, and the trees are moving a little at the tops but nothing seems out of the ordinary. I have a 10:30 physical therapy appointment in Towson, about 15 minutes north of here. Should I cancel?

Stay tuned.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Monday, October 8, 2012: Finally!

My apologies to all of you trying to keep up with my blog. I used many computers - Japanese, Korean and Chinese - in the course of my travels and I blame all the confusion of placement and spelling on them. Home now, I've gone back to add photographs (unedited ones) and to correct as much of the confusion as I can. Still, the blog entries are out of proper sequence, a feature that bothers me a lot but over which I can't seem to garner further control. Well, at least the information is now all here. Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoyed the show.

Stay tuned.

Saturday, September 22, 2012: So This is Tokyo

In the small moments in my mind, I begin to wonder if my stamina will hold out for long days of sightseeing. My back, particularly, objects when I stand and objects strenuously when under strain. Perhaps I should have thought more about my 77-year-old physical abilities before booking such a physically demanding schedule. But I’m booked, and I’m going! Just armed with a full bottle of Aleve.

Today is the tour of Tokyo itself, still cloudy and threatening to rain. Umbrella? Or no umbrella? Leave my camera case in my room and take some strain off my back and carry only the camera itself? And so down to the lobby to meet (yet another) bus.

It looks like rain so I got another umbrella from the concierge and to lighten the load on my back, have brought only my camera, slung oh so touristy over my shoulder instead of schlepping the whole camera bag. Again today, the same routine: a representative of the tour company meets me in the hotel lobby and loads me into a waiting bus already filled with tourists like myself. Then to the main bus terminal where we all off-load, present our daily tour voucher at the tour office, get an assignment, with designated seat, for yet another bus for our particular tour. It seems like a logical system but there’s a lot of to-ing and fro-ing.

In this process, I’m again impressed by the ever-present courtesy shown by all Japanese. Even the lady who directs me to the next elevator in my hotel bows deeply after the elevator is loaded and maintains that bow until the elevator door closes. And Japan is very clean and orderly – no trash on the street, no cigarette butts. I wondered where they all go but while at a stop light this morning, I saw a man smoking on the street. Before the light changed and we moved on, he took a compact-looking thing from his pocket, flipped open the top and deposited his cigarette ashes inside. Nice. No-litter smoking.

(I’ll stop here to say that I’m typing this from a handwritten copy I wrote some days ago, and doing that on the only keyboard and computer on the Silver Shadow that allows Word, the word-processing software. The computer guy on the ship took pity on me and released the Word program so I could do this, but only on one computer and keyboard. So I have no choice but to use this one, which is very “mushy.” The keys stick and the spacer bar is not very responsive. This creates a lot of mistakes. So please bear with me as I labor on.)

I’ve given up trying understand our guide. Again, I could get only a few words. I’m sure it’s my hearing. I already know I’m losing my highs and lows. My seatmate today was Georgia, a not very attractive young lady from Australia who wasn’t particularly friendly but who was wearing a long – to her ankles – Jersey dress with wide black and wide horizontal stripes. Like a lighthouse for a fog-bound ship, this dress could be seen from some distance away and since I often missed our guide’s instructions – not being able to hear them – I just followed Georgia’s dress and she became my own personal guide, although she never knew that.

We first went to the Tokyo Tower, called “The Sky Tree,” an observation building 634 meters high and vaguely reminiscent of the Eiffel Tower, a spread-legged erector set of a building with a funny tinker toy top that constitutes a TV antenna. A swift elevator, loaded with typical Japanese efficiency, took us to the observation level where our guide shouted out, above the general din, the important buildings in the distance. Tokyo, with a population of 13 million, goes on and on. Not able to hear the guide, I took photographs of those sights I thought interesting but they all began to look much the same. Like similar cities all over the world; so much concrete. One view that caught my eye was a modern Shinto temple with an ancient cemetery around it, the temple all sloping roof with the tiny dots of graves all around it. The Sky Tree made its debut only in May of this year and its publicity says that it is “drawing international attention.” No wonder. It’s visible from all over Tokyo.

Then to an ancient tradition, a tea ceremony in a tea house 140 years old – please don’t lean against the walls – where we sat crowded together while a woman in traditional dress performed the rigid ritual of serving green tea, a somewhat thick and foul-tasting concoction that when drunk is supposed to take a year off your life. A gallon, anyone? The tea house was nestled down deep within an elaborate and carefully manicured garden with rocks and trees and azaleas, not in bloom, but smooth, with not a branch protruding to disrupt the eye. Of course, I got bitten twice by a mosquito, which crashed an otherwise perfectly controlled event. The garden is a favorite place for bridal photographs and there were two couples posing, one couple in modern dress, all white silk flowing out behind, and the other in traditional costume that our guide said was always rented, at about $3000 per day. Even getting hitched in Japan is not cheap! The route to and from the tea house was a complicated path paved with heavy stones that formed irregular steps. With my balance still not perfect, I had to be especially cautious and careful not to fall.

Moving along to lunch – in a hotel restaurant where, like Japanese restaurants in the US, there were hot cooking surfaces in the middle where ladies in traditional dress cooked little pieces of meat and vegetables in a beautifully artful combination. Each piece was then dipped in a Japanese version of barbecue sauce and then served. It was as pretty as it was delicious. And rice, of course. When in Rome, and all that jazz, I tried, reasonably successfully, to eat with chopsticks even though I had to cut some of the meat into pieces I could then manipulate with my tools. Dessert was ice cream, thankfully served with a small spoon. The meal was served with cups of green tea – another year younger? – and then brown tea, loaded with herbs that are supposed to be good for the digestion.

Although the Imperial Palace itself is carefully shrouded deep in a private park, we were able to wander through an adjacent park, carefully manicured so that, like bonsai, every tree and bush was perfect. It a long wander from the bus to a gate to the Imperial Palace grounds and I was delayed and separated from my group by a traffic lane. Thank God for Georgia’s dress! The Imperial Palace is open only two days a year and as man as 70,000 people parade through. And anyone can make an appointment to see the emperor; the wait has recently been reduced from 10 years to 6 months. In that time, it would be easy to forget what you wanted to ask him!

Then a boat trip on the river that runs from Tokyo Bay into the city, a half-hour ride under many bridges, and the ubiquitous high-rise buildings, all beginning to look the same, on each side of the river. Not much else to see but I had an interesting conversation with a woman from Hawaii intent on getting to a shop where she said one could buy an old kimono, worth $3000 for $300 from a retired former drag queen. I can’t wait!

The conclusion to our day was a walking tour – oh my by-now-aching back – down a mile-long alee with souvenir shops on each side. The process began at “the main gate” of Akakusa and progressed through the Nakamise shopping arcade to “the middle gate,” by a five-tiered pagoda, and ended at “the main hall” of a Kannon temple, a huge Shinto shrine all done in red and gold leaf. I hurried through the shopping arcade – I became rather claustrophobic in the intense crowd with proprietors hawking their wares on either side. The crowd was a little like the press of people all leaving a sporting event at the same time and I couldn’t help but thin about fans in Ireland being crushed at a soccer game.

At the Shinto temple, one can buy one’s fortune – for 100 yen, about 50 cents. In front of a high wall filled with many little drawers, you shake a long metal container, shaped like a kaleidoscope, until a long bamboo stick finds its way through a tiny hole in one end of the container. On the stick is a number that corresponds to the drawers in the wall. You open your drawer and there, in a pile, is your printed fortune. Mine could not have been worse. Here, in its entirety: “No. 39. Bad fortune. You can’t tell your request to others, having to hold it in your own mind. Misfortune happens to you repeatedly, just like fire burns your house. Trouble danger be at you continuously, you should be very careful, that you loose the most important article for your life. Your request will not be granted. The patient will get worse. The lost article will not be found. The person you wait for will not come. Stop building a house and removal. Stop starting trip. Marriage and employment are both bad.” Well there goes the lottery, and any hope for a tall, dark stranger!

After that, a drive through the Ginza district was anti-climatic. It’s actually more like Rodeo Drive than Times Square…Gucci, Tom Ford, Armani, Hermes, all crowded together like the Nakamise shopping arcade but much, much more expensive.

By the time I got back to the Imperial, I was again exhausted. I had my $16.00 vodka and tonic and went to bed. I have to stop beating myself up like this. But tomorrow is easy: pack and go to the ship and then a following day at sea. Now that’s a future I can look forward to. And all the vodka and tonics I want will be free!

Stay tuned.





Sunday, October 7, 2012

REPEAT/REPEAT

[Since returning home, I've tried to go back and edit those two posts that were too small to read. But I'm ether too dumb to figure it out or this site won't let me re-compose and move those pages to the right place. So, I'm re-entering those days here. My apologies.]



Friday, September 21, 2012: The Hills Are Alive


I seem to have lost a day.

Fortunately my breakfast was included in the price of my room (also not cheap) and I learned that Japanese egg yolks are not yellow but violent neon orange (the color of Shirley MacLane’s or Pat Moran’s hair). Japanese hens must eat a lot of yellow marigolds! I’m waiting now for my 8:25 pick-up for a tour to Mt. Fuji. Unfortunately, it’s raining and I, always the optimist, did not bring an umbrella, but not to worry. I believed that a hotel of this quality would have guest umbrellas, and so it does. I chose a nice midnight blue one.

The bus for my tour was prompt – public transportation here is maddenly on time – and I joined 38 others for the hour trip south of Tokyo to Mt. Fuji. Traffic in Tokyo is as crowded as that in Bangkok and travels on a network of aerial highways that wind through the city. The couple behind me had brought a small baby who didn’t like being transported and began to cry immediately. The gay couple in front of me played many games of Scrabble on their i-phone. Hari, oiur girl guide was very hard to understand (at least for my ears) and her accent – an odd “uh” at the end of most words, like “Mountuh Fujiuh” made her almost incomprehensible. But as the day progressed, I became more accustomed to the accent, the baby and the Scrabble game. Among the many gems of information – I caught every third word – was that Tokyo was once called Edo, a crossword puzzle clue I always forget but will now always remember. EDO/

The overcast day followed us all the way to Mt. Fuji’s observation point so my photographs of Japan’s highest mountain are mostly of mist. After not observing the mountain from the observation point, we drove up the mountain to a place called Station 5, where there was the ever-present souvenir shop – mostly food products – and an ersatz Shinto shrine. The day was beginning to clear so the top of the mountain played peek-a-boo, but like a wary child, never gave itself away. Station 5 was windy and chilly but I did learn from Nari that the Japanese language, a derivative of Chinese, has only 1900 characters whereas Chinese has over 5000. I also learned that in the 1980’s, a 101-year-old man walked from Station 5 to the summit with a container of his wife’s ashes on his back, supported by members of his family and resting every 30 seconds. That’s seconds, not minutes. Now that’s devotion!

I met several other travelers, mostly from offering to take a photograph of both parts of a couple which, like walking a dog, is a good way to break the ice. My seat mates across the aisle, for instance, were from Tennessee: Seth, a nice farm boy body builder and his Indian wife, Ahmi, who have been in Japan for more than a week, mainly visiting shrines, Seth’s passion.

Unlike most others on the tour, I had not opted for the Japanese lunch and so at the hotel where most of the bus tour went to the cafeteria to eat their seaweed, I found a Western restaurant and had spaghetti carbonara, the best I’ve had, and herbal tea while overlooking a busy amusement park with many types of roller coaters, the riders screaming and with their arms in the air – not my favorite thing. I’d rather take photographs of people screaming than join them.

Next was the Hakone Ropeway, an odd name for a cable car affair that took us – eerily quietly- up the side of a mountain so we could see the sights from the top. The sights were mostly mist, mixed with sulpher steam fron vents in the side of the so-called inactive volcano. How can a volcano be inactive if it’s spewing sulpher steam? Don’t’ ask! In line for the cable car, in cattle troughs like at Disney World, I spoke to a gay couple and couldn’t understand their replies until they told me they were from Australia. Funny how our minds work. Once I knew to listen for the accent, I could follow them pretty well even with the machinery of the mechanism that lifted us up the mountain grinding away – all rubber wheels and gears – quite impressive.

Speaking of “mate,” our next thrill and photo-op was taking a ferry all tricked out like a pirate ship – much gold leaf – around Lake Ashi. The day had cleared and the boat was fun, everyone jockeying to have their picture taken with the lady hand, appropriately costumed for the pirate occasion.

It was here that I became suddenly aware that my day had given my knees – and my feet and my back – a month’s worth of physical therapy, many steps and rough ground, and I was suddenly very tired. I realized that I has having trouble lifting myself up from a seated position, but I soldiered on, determined to do it all. (I did take the handicap elevator from the top deck down to the pier.)

This ended our guided day. Nari gave us our ticket for the bullet train back to Tokyo. I was delayed and missed the train I was supposed to take by a drunken old man in the station who shouted at me in Japanese and despite having a ticket already in his hand, seemed to want mine as well. A nice porter helped pry me away and pointed me in the right direction to the platform but my train had already gone. Several more went by before my next train to Tokyo, swooshing by with a great roar and pushing a great blast of air stronger than any New York subway. I finally found the right train, a sleek white projective which, for all its highly touted modern outside, was oddly mundane inside – a brown linoleum floor, ugly blue seats, and not comfortable…too bright fluorescent lighting with little Art Deco air circulators between each window. But, oh how fast the Shinkansen does go! Nari had given us all directions to use the subway from the train station to our hotels. But mine were so complicated that I took a taxi instead, for 960 yen, about $12.00, and worth every penny.

I tried to change my Saturday tour from seeing Tokyo to going to Kyoto but I learned from a Fax – how the Japanese do love their electronics – back at The Imperial, that this was a no-go. The tour was already full. So another $16.00 vodka and tonic, and right to bed at 8:30. I don’t remember when I’ve been this exhausted. And tomorrow’s another 8-hour day.

I’m typing this at 3:30 AM, trying to catch up. But using a Japanese electronic, once in Traveling With Phil, I can’t seem to find a command to enter a new post. So, I’m printing this out with the hope that when the office opens, someone can scan the whole thing to my blog and tell me how to post in the future.

Stay tuned.





October 6, 2012: Beijing to Baltimore


Beijing is a long way from Baltimore and by the time I got home, after two flights and 34 hours without sleep, I was exhausted. Too wired to go to bed, I had a drink and watched some of Saturday Night Live, a show I used to enjoy but has somehow gotten so bad that it’s no longer even funny. Or is that me? Or is it just not funny after 34 hours without sleep?

I got up early in Beijing and worked to bring this blog up to date. I know there are lots of errors in spelling, two entries are too small to read and only one or two entries are accompanied by a photograph, a feature that always makes reading more interesting. So I want to correct all that when I get the chance. But getting it down as a record, imperfect though it may be, seemed important so I worked away most of the morning, pushing beyond instructions in Chinese, where I needed the help of a very helpful Chinese lady. She knew about the internet but nothing about blogging so it took both of us to bring it up to date.

Angela picked me up right on schedule at the hotel at one o’clock and there was surprisingly little traffic so we got to the airport quickly and easily. Check-in was routine and I waited several hours in the Star Alliance lounge, trying to rest before a 13 hour flight to Chicago. That, too, was routine. Fortunately, I was traveling business class in a pod that actually permits lying flat. But I’m too long, from top to bottom, to do that without my feet hitting the wall at one end of the pod. So I was restless much of the time and really didn’t get any sleep. My companion in the pod next to mine was Chinese and a big drinker so the combination of alcohol and Chinese food on his breath spread a fragrance over our area that took some getting used to. To take my mind off the surroundings, I watched two movies, one about Ernest Hemingway and Martha Gelhorn – interesting but not great, but it starred Nicole Kidman and Clive Own so how bad can it be? – and the other called “People Like Us,” a real tear jerker.

I spent another several hours in the United Club at O’Hare before my ultimate flight to BWI where I was met by a very nice young man from the USSR and Freedom Service, who brought me home. My luggage didn’t make the plane from O’Hare to BWI so I’ve spent the morning (now Sunday) catching up on my mail and paying bills. When the luggage comes, I can devote all my attention to that.

I had a really great time but am happy to be home. International travel, though thoroughly educational about other cultures, has become increasingly difficult, partly because of my physical condition but also due to the sheer numbers of people traveling. Everything seems crowded, particularly in China, partly because of the national holiday. And traveling alone is somewhat more difficult than traveling with a friend. I had to make a real effort – not difficult, but effort none the less – to meet people, introducing myself and asking their names and where they were from. (That seems to help me remember the names more easily.) I was very fond of Bruce and Dede whom I met early in the trip and with whom I shared some experiences. And, as I’ve said before in this blog, you really can’t ask a couple to join you for dinner; it seems too pushy. You really have to wait for them to ask you. So I often had dinner alone. Julia, too, was a trip. At 93, she was so up and so spry, she made all the rest of us look like elders.

Silver Sea was everything I had expected…luxurious and service oriented; most of the staff called me by name. I wonder if they have a bulletin board in the crew’s quarters with our photographs on it so the crew can learn our names easily. Anyway, I was called “Mr. Cooper” regularly, a service that always makes one comfortable. And I met two crew members I’d traveled with before, always a pleasure.

My impressions: Japan is clean and extremely orderly, no trash on the street and you can set your watch by the times trains and buses arrive and leave. China is more difficult, less clean and extremely crowded. The Chinese who, without apology can push their way ahead of you, are also less polite than the Japanese who bow and scrape in their sense of personal grace. South Korea – at least that part of it I visited – left little impression on me. Seoul is just another big city. Jeju, a resort island, is much more interesting. But make no mistake about it: China has incredible energy, a glorious past and is determined to have a distinguished future.

This may have to be my last trip of this kind. Perhaps it was the trip itself; I’d been warned that it would be arduous. Or it may have been my own physical condition, with a fairly new knee and only recently healed (but still displaced) vertebrae in my lower back. But I grew weary often and a couple of times wondered if I could make it back to the ship from a particularly long shore excursion. People traveling with me were very helpful but needing someone to help me on and off a bus and help me stand from a seated position made me feel suddenly old. Still, I’m very happy I went. And the trip did accomplish what I had wanted: to get away from the recent noise in my life here and to be waited on by those devoted to my pleasure.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading of my experiences and impression. Until the next trip, whenever, and wherever that might be,

Stay tuned.




O

Friday, October 5, 2012

Friday, October 5, 2012: Beijing

I slept until 4:30 AM, when I got up to bring my blog up to date (in longhand; maybe tonight or tomorrow morning I can type it and post it, which is what I’m now doing).
Breakfast in the hotel (at 6:00AM) was a huge buffet with both American and Chinese dishes. I had a perfect omelet (ham and cheese) and some bread that looked appetizing in its presentation and turned out to be similar to American fruit cake. All of this was accompanied by little air conditioning but plenty of American hard jazz, a little incongruous for a Chinese breakfast. I missed the, “Good morning, Mr. Cooper” from my breakfasts on the Siver Shadow, but the personnel here at the Shangri La (now called the China World Hotel) are polite and mostly helpful. I’ve come back to my room now to rest my back until 8:30 when today’s events – read bus and guide – continue. Our guide has said the wait for tickets to the cable car to the Wall can be as long as two hours. If the line looks long, she said, our bus will take us to another entrance for a long walk to the Wall. She volunteered wheelchairs for the handicapped and I happily raised my hand.
Angela and Jessica, our guide and her helper, herded us into our tour bus at 8:30 sharp and as we headed north from Beijing to the Great Wall, Angela pointed out the many high rise building, both residential and commercial, and quoted us prices like $1000 to $1300 per square meter for rent. The buildings are impressive mostly by size but can’t compare for architectural audacity with those in Shanghai. She also explained that in the 1970’s the government would pay all the expenses for continuing education in a university and then would assign a graduate to a job – whether trained for it or not, whether one liked it or not – for life. Now, the government pays only half; the family pays the other half, and one has to find one’s own job. The job market is tight and finding a job is often difficult. There was also then – and still the custom now – a law that said “one couple, one kid.” But life is now so expensive that some couples, including Angela and her husband, have no children. In the isolation of the 1950’s, Chairman Mao was considered a god and is still revered, but this led to a lot of corruption – one had to pay a bribe for anything – and this unrest let directly to the student uprising in 1989. Now everyone learns English as a second language and while many can read English, they find it hard to participate in and understand conversation. Like some other places in the world that I have been fortunate to visit – Bangkok and Delhi, for instance – traffic here in Beijing is horrendous. Drivers pay little attention to lane designations and just go where there’s an opening, ignoring the lanes, passing on the right and going straight through an intersection from the left turn only lane. It’s a little scary if you’re sitting right behind the bus driver, as I often was.
It has been reported that the Great Wall is the only man-made structure on earth that is visible from space. Built on the northern border of China by one of the first emperors of the Ming Dynasty, it was meant to protect the kingdom from the Mongols in the north. It was started in the 7th Century BC and largely completed about 221 BC by an emperor, cruel though he was, who also unified the many separate tribes in China, standardized many things like Chinese characters and weights and measures. But if you crossed him, you were sent to work on the Wall and many died there. That’s why the Wall is called “the longest cemetery on Earth.”
The Wall originally extended over 1,000 kilometers from east to west and was strengthened and lengthened by emperors of the Ching, Hun, Tan and Ming Dynasties so that by about 800 AD, it extended over 3000 kilometers.
Getting to that portion of the Wall we were to visit was not easy. Because of the continuing national holiday, the roads were very crowded, almost bumper to bumper, moving at about 40 miles an hour. The wait for tickets and standing in line for the cable car up to the Wall took about 45 minutes. Once at the top, where that fragment of the Wall can be visited, we encountered a thick crowd, covering the Wall like ants at a jam sandwich. And sandwiched we were, fully 6 or 8 abreast and moving up a ramp of about 40 degrees and then many steps over uneven rocks. All I could do was hang onto a railing at the side and watch my steps so I didn’t fall. Well, if I fell, I couldn’t actually fall; there were too many people crowded together for that. The whole experience was very scary and certainly not recommended for anyone with new knees. Still, with some help from Angela, who was tuned in to my difficulty, I made it up to the first tower, took a few photographs and almost slid back down. Most of the other seven in this Silver Sea extension didn’t make it even as far as I did. I was very happy to take the cable car down, although loading and unloading went very rapidly and even with the loader’s help, I got caught in a closing door and was dragged a few feet by the car until the loaded was able to extract me. Although seeing the Great Wall was one of my prime ambitions, I was happy for the experience to be over. I bought a “Great Wall” baseball cap for 30 yuan to memorialize the occasion.
On the way back to Beijing, I noticed that severely rugged mountains looked terraced. Angela said they were terraced and planted with fruit trees – apples, pears, and apricots.
We stopped at the largest jade workshop in China for lunch – the usual things, all delicious, served on the giant lazy Susan. I was the only one using chopsticks and finding it very difficult to lift peanuts and bok choy with my utensils. After lunch we visited (of course) the factory showroom where everything sold was made of jade or jadite (even more expensive). I bought only a couple of things but Daniel’s parents bought a huge horse so big it had to be shipped back to Dallas (where else?).
On my way out of the dining room, I was the subject of much curiosity by a group of Chinese tourists at another table. I could tell by the way they were all looking at me. So as I passed the table, I bowed and said, “Ne hao,” or hello in Chinese. They all laughed and wished me “ne hao,” in return.
Our final stop of the day was for a pedicab ride through the Hu Tong district where the houses from “old China” still stand. And people are actually living in 200 square feet. Inside one such house, we visited a woman who makes her living by painting scenes on the inside of snuff bottles. Very delicate and difficult work. She told us her grandfather bought the whole house and courtyard in about 1908 and she and her aunt have lived there all their lives, in a space about 10% of the original grandfather’s property, the balance confiscated during the Cultural Revolution and assigned to 10 other families. She  lamented the tiled floor, wishing it were still dirt so she could be anchored to the world and feel the chi (or energy) from the earth.
We drove by the “bird’s nest,” constructed for the 2008 Olympics, and stopped long enough for photographs but we were all tired and soon headed back to our hotel for a rest before our farewell Peiking Duck dinner at Da Dong, famous for the dish. Each small piece of duck is cut so as to contain a little meat and a little fat. You drag the duck pieces through some plum sauce and fold them into a very thin pancake with a choice of other tastes – garlic, celery, cantaloupe, hot peppers, sugar – and eat the package, like Moo Shoo pork, with your fingers. I thought it all quite bland and hardly worth the fuss. Julie wouldn’t even taste it.
Tomorrow is home again.
Stay tuned.

Thursday, October 4, 2012: Beijing

The day began on the Silver Shadow where Bruce and Dede joined me on deck for our last shipboard breakfast. Dede described a dramatic dilemma in which she realized, this morning, that she had packed all her underwear in luggage that was collected last night and was now in the ship’s hold. She finally persuaded her butler to find some crew members who led her into the hold where, among several hundred pieces of luggage, she found her suitcase – they are all black these days – and triumphantly produced the bra she needed, to everyone’s amazement, relief and amusement. We said farewell after breakfast and I was sad to see them go their separate way. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed their company.
Leaving the ship was smoothly handled, as always. Our luggage was tagged the night before with a colored tag and we each left when our tag color was called. This also made finding our luggage in the terminal building fairly easy. But luggage now is all black so even with a colored tag, locating it is somewhat complicated.
My bus to Beijing – three hours away from the port of Tinjian – was mostly empty; only eight people had bought the Silver Sea extension.
Our guide, who has lived in the US, was efficient and easy to understand, giving us information about China and Beijing on our way into the city. Because banks do not have attractive instruments for savings, most Chinese buy real estate. An initial investment requires 30% down, the second one, 60% and one cannot buy a third property. There is new construction everywhere, little clusters of apartment buildings – maybe 20 or 30, in an isolated group, containing workers for a newly declared economic zone. Since this Chinese government owns all the land in China, a buyer of real estate only owns the building, and by doing so, rents the land for 70 years. No one knows what happens at the end of that time, which has not yet come. 200-300 square meters costs about two to three million yuan, about $200 to $300 thousand dollars.
October 1 was the anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China -  1949 – and so the following week is all national holiday. Chinese like to trave at such a time so the traffic is fierce. In order to buy a car, one must first buy the license plate, for the equivalent of about $10,000. The plate number will indicate the province in which one lives. In order to buy a second car, one registers for a lottery from which about 3% of all entries are selected each year. There are about five million cars in Beijing, for a population of about 23 million – there are about 6.2 million in an additional “floating population,” students and other non-permanent residents – so the roads in China cannot keep up with the burgeoning number of cars. Some cars are permitted to come only as close to Beijing as one of the five ring roads. In this way, the government tries, not very successfully, to control the traffic situation. There are so many cars in Beijing, and the city is so large, that it can take up to 3 ½ hours to travel from one side to the other.
Parking is a distinct problem in Beijing and so we were let off the bus for Tianenman Square many blocks from the location, beginning a 3 ½ hour walk that truly did me in. By the end of it, I could hardly raise my legs high enough to get over the small barrier at each doorway. (The Chinese believe that since ghosts have no feet, this barrier will prevent them from entering a space at night.) The square itself is huge and impressive and reached only by tunnels under the adjacent streets. These tunnels were crammed with people and a little scary. A fall here could mean trampling. And with my balance apparently no longer (or not yet) normal, I had to be very careful. The square is bordered by many government buildings, including a huge mausoleum containing the remains (supposedly) of Chairman Mao. Our guide said only his face is exposed and it’s white and looks like wax. And the guards move onlookers so quickly that it’s hard to tell if the so-called body is real or not. Ugh! We passed.
While the square, filled almost so that it was difficult to walk, and almost impossible to get a camera angle over the many heads around me, I guess we – 8 Americans with a Chinese guide – were something of a novelty. I noticed a Chinese man standing near me and his wife with a camera, obviously about to take his picture so I, too, would be in the frame. I turned to him and just put my arm around his shoulder, for a proper picture. He beamed with delight while his wife took the photograph. Then she wanted him to take one of her with me. It was a nice experience of cross-cultural friendship.
The most prominent feature of Tianenman Square is the gate – structure really – to the Forbidden City with a huge portrait of Chairman Mao over the main entrance. We spent over three hours being guided through the Forbidden City, through many such gates, all with forgettable names: “harmony,” celestial,” etc. and around pavilions and other buildings meant to meet the emperor’s ceremonial and personal needs. The tour was impressive but I lost most of the history while I was trying to both watch my step – the paving stones are old and very uneven; in one courtyard they are 15 layers deep – and try to keep up with our guide – not easy. Taking the kind of photographs I wanted was next to impossible. I just took what I could. The City is huge and covers many acres. That’s why they call it a “City.” The buildings are all attached in some way – by a courtyard if nothing else – and reminiscent of the palace grounds in Bangkok, but more so and not as well maintained. There were many opportunities for photographs of moldy walls, one of my favorite subjects.
The City was largely built in the early 1400’s and occupied by Chinese emperors until 1927, when the last emperor, of the Qung Dynasty, was forced to be a puppet by the occupying Japanese.
By the time our tour was over – we took a detour to see the National Theater, an ovoid building of white glass that looks like a squashed egg – and we walked many blocks to find our bus, I was almost unable to walk. We had to stop several times because of the crowd and I had some trouble getting my legs to start again. My knees ache, but function. But my back hurts so much that I had to sit down at every opportunity. And there weren’t that many.
I was greatly impressed on the drive from Tinjian to Beijing by the roads – straight as an arrow, six lanes wide and lined with poplar trees planted in regimental rows perhaps 6 rows deep. These help shield the roads from some degree of sand dust blown into northern China from the Gobi Desert in the north. They are also very ornamental, all marching along with the road as far as you can see into the distance.
The answer to the question, “How many people can a Beijing bus hold?” is “five more.” Public transportation is very limited and the busses even have people on board whose sole purpose is to push people toward the back so more can get on. And when a bus empties, you’d better be close to your tour guide or you may lose her entirely in the crowd.
There was a little delay at our hotel – much checking and re-checking and re-re-checking the ever present lists – and once I received my key, I went right to my room and collapsed. I revived only long enough to eat a club sandwich – about $15 – wash my face and hands, and go to bed. It was about 6:30!
Tomorrow’s main attraction is the Great Wall, about two hours north, and a visit to a Chinese craft shop (read souvenirs).
Stay tuned.




















Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Wednesday, October 3, 2012: At Sea

As on most days at sea when I do little but nap and read, today was no exception. In addition, today I did go to the morning lecture, the last in a series about popular music, this one about Harold Arlen who wrote many hits including “Stormy Weather” and Judy Garland’s old nugget “Over the Rainbow.” The lecture was punctuated with clips form films, including one of Garland singing her song, and even the lecturer himself singing. He was a better lecturer than singer. But no matter. The lecture was interesting.

The last day of a cruise is always a melancholy one for me – saying goodbye to new friends – “let’s do stay in touch”  - but you know you probably won’t. And there’s the packing, which I do not prefer (read hate) either coming or going. But at least packing to go requires few decisions; you just jam in everything you’ve got and hope the luggage will close.

I’ve been amazed on this cruise that so many of the staff know my name. In addition to my butler, waiters and deck staff and office and store staff all call me by name. “Good morning, Mr.Cooper.” “Can I help you, Mr. Cooper?” Of course, I call all of them by name, as well, but they’re wearing name tags and I’m not. I wonder how they train themselves to remember guests’s names. Or do they remember mine because I’m now a member of the Century Club?

With the backs of my hands badly burned by the sun – I have no melanin there and I’m taking doxycycline so that’s a double whammy – I asked Maria for a pair of the staff’s white cotton gloves. I cut out the fingers and now look like a Japanese guide. But at least, my hands will be protected from the sun. Although tipping is verboten on the Silver Sea ships, I will leave something for Maria, for her service and kindness.

I met Julia in the bar, always by accident, and we each had a drink before dinner. She told me a little more about herself. She has been married three times, the last to a doctor who was very wealthy and who died in 2008. She has three sons to whom she has recently given $100,000 each. “Why wait until I die?” she said. “They can use it now. And besides, I can live on my social security and the interest on my investments.” Good for her, I thought. Although always beautifully dressed and flitting around the world on cruises – her next one is to the Greek Isles – and keeping her three homes – San Francisco, Florida and Honolulu – she says she lives simply. I guess we all have our own definition of that.

Julia went off to Mark’s birthday party, a litle confused about just who he was, but eager to celebrate. I had dinner alone – my choice – and went to bed.

Stay tuned.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Tuesday, October 2, 2012: Incheon/Seoul


When I went up on deck this morning to photograph the sunrise, it was still dark and we were just passing beneath a contemporary suspension bridge, one of those with a tower in the center with cables splayed down to the roadway. It must have been over an outer harbor for we still had far to go to enterr the harbor at Incheon (where General MacArthur led an invation during the Korean War, an invation that turned the tide for the United Nations forces). By the time it was light enough to see, and when it was apparent that the sunrise would be fairly ordinary, we were approaching a narrow lock – just wide enough for the captain to thread the ship through, very slowly and carefully. As we approached the lock, a huge gate that barred entry slid from left to right, opening the lock. After we were in the lock, the gate at the entrance closed and a gate opened at the other end, where we were headed. This allowed us entry into the larger Incheon harbor. I was so entranced by this manipulation, watching and hearing the captain on the flying bridge, that I completely forgot the sunrise.

There was some delay getting off the ship since Korean Officials – all stern and purposeful – searched all the bags we were carrying ashore. One of them took a perrfunctory glance in my camera bag and waved me through. A prime example of form over function. And a way to keep lots of people employed.

During the hour drive from Incheon to Seoul, our guide ttold us how to say good morning (or afternoon, or evening) in Korean: “Anyo haseo.” She also explained that we could call her by her family name – Kim, the most popular family name in Korea – or use her other name, Lucy. During the course of the day, I used both. She also told us that the population of Seoul (population facts always interest me) was 12 million, and that represents 26% of the total population of South Korea, which has moved from a food exporting country to one that makes and exports semi-conducters, TV’s, i-phones and many other electronic devises. This country looks prosperous and Seoul looks like any other city in the world, even though it is over 600 years old. Much of it was rebuilt in the 1950’s, after what we call the Korean War.

Our first stop was at the Deokusugung Palace, a series of buildings, all constructed in Buddhist temple style and each for a particular purpose – a throne room where the king listened to complaints from his subjects, a pavilion for entertaining, etc. It was a lovely day, warm and clear, and I took many photographs and climbed up and down many stairs. (I seem to be having trouble with my balance.) After wandering around, and through, many of these buildings, all built in strict accordance with the principles of feng shui (and many destroyed by fire in 1906 and then re-built), we watched a changing of the guard ceremony at the entrance gate to the palace grounds. It was very impressive and unlike other changing of the guard ceremonies I’ve seen in other countries, involved a huge cadre of people – probably 60 or 70 – all dressed in period uniforms. There were many shouted gutteral directions and ritual beats on an elaborate standing drum, all very formal and solemn. We were held back behind ropes in order to allow this ceremony room to take place and I got many pictures that, in addition to the ceremony, contain part of a head, or ear, from people standing in front of me. (Just to demonstrate the schizophrenia of the world, next to the entrance gate where all of this was taking place was a Dunkin Donuts.)

Next, to the seemingly ever-present and extremely crowded market street where we were turned loose for an hour or so to shop. I waited most of the time, resting on a concrete bench, watchingthe parade of people going by. It seems that the current Korean generation is enamored by brightly colored sneakers – shocking pink or yellow – and by plaid shirts, like the cotton ones we wear in winter. They must be very hot at this time of the year. But they appear to be very in, very chic, among the young. Our guide had explained that this was an official “walking day” (Asians seem to have a day for everything), which was why the streets were so crowded. Not having any Korean wan, I couldn’t buy anything anyway. Just as well.

Down a narrow alley-like street, we found our restaurant for organized lunch, included with the tour. It was far from as glamorous as our Chinese lunches have been but as usual, we sat at long tables with cooking surfaces in the middle, all sizzling with pieces of beef that were not very good – mostly gristle. There were many other what I’m sure were traditional Korean dishes, all rather unrecognizable, and not very good. I concentrated on my sticky rice and beans, steam cooked in a lotus leaf-wrapped package, and something that looked, and tasted, like a Korean version of cole slaw. It was very filling and quite colorful.

Our last stop for the day was at the Museum of Korea, a very modern pile with glassed display cases and subdued lighting. Some of the artifacts were very beautiful – the king’s kimonos, for instance – and we were allowed to take pictures but without flash. My camera works surprisingly well under these circumstances and I got some great shots – jewelry, clothes, ceramics, and the king’s two cars, all shiny maroon and gold.

After the museum, we stopped, briefly and for photographs only, at the presidential palace, oddly called “the blue house.” When I asked our guide why blue, she said, “Well, you have your white house so we have our blue one.” As though this were an answer. Okay.

I dozed on the hour’s ride back to Incheon and our ship, only distrubed by the beeping of a warning when it was time for our driver to shift gears. We had welcoming drums when we reached the ship but I was tired and headed right for my suite.

Tonight was another formal night on board and I almost skipped it, thinking I was too tired to get all dolled up for the captain’s farewell party, but after a shave and a shower, I felt better and joined by 93-year-old friend, Julia, for a drink in the bar. Dinner was simple and good – foie gras, sorbet and lamb chops (no dessert) and so to bed.

Tomorrow, at sea, is our last day before Tianjin, early on Thursday morning. I will try to post my blog today but then probably will not post of my experiences in Beijing until I get home.

But stay tuned.

Monday, October 1, 2012: At Sea

I am reminded this morning that Mr. Matsushita’s wife is not so retiring after all. At the silk shop yesterday, she stopped at the cashier because she saw I was carrying a bag so I had obviously made a purchase. The shop’s policy was that if you spent over a certain amount, you got a free scarf. She had made a purchase, too, but the total was not enough for a scarf. So she asked me to loan her my receipts so that when added to hers, the total would be enough for the scarf. I was happy to comply. But when I boarded the bus, I wondered if I would have asked for her receipts so I could have received the free scarf. The answer was no, I could not have been that forward.

Today was another lazy day. I spent most of it on deck in the shade reading and napping. I was quite content to do nothing more than go for tea.

I ran into Julie at the bar and we had a drink together but she was meeting friends for dinner so I dined alone. At the table next to mine, the husband spent much of the meal on his cell phone while his poor wife ate and looked into the middle distance. I wonder about their marriage.

During the day, I added Rosanne and Steve, from Toronto, to my list of new acquaintances. He has just retired from being the executive director of the associated Jewish charities in the Toronto area and seemed to know Baltimore but was not famliar with any of Baltimore’s prominent Jewish philanthropists. Odd. I also spoke, briefly, to Rod and Kara, an older couple from Australia, obvious by their accent.

And so to bed.

Stay tuned.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Sunday, September 30, 2012: Shanghai

 Yes, we remained in Shanghai overnight. And when I woke up this morning there was a congratulatory note saying I had won the Silver Quiz from yesterday. (What’s My Line? Names of people and we had to list their profession. Who the hell was Etienne Brule? I guessed chef, but he was actually an explorer. But even with that answer wrong, I won. That was the only question I missed.)

The sunrise was every bit as beautiful as yesterday, rising over the path of the river and giving me great shots of reflections in the water. Dede and Bruce, who joined me on deck for breakfast, skipped today’s sunrise. Bruce joked that now that I have introduced Dede to sunrise photography, he never gets to sleep in in the morning. He said he’d return the favor once he thought of one.

Today’s tour was to the water town of Zhujiajiao, an old town built more than 1700 years ago and covering 18 square miles, packed with tourists, mostly Chinese. Today is the beginning a week-long holiday and also the anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China, in 1949, so there were crowds everywhere. Our guide explained that befor the days of television, people went outside and gathered in public places to celebrate, so this tradition has continued. Zhujiajiao was extremely crowded and it was hard to moveand very claustrophbic on the narrow streets. In order to keep our guide in view, I had to concentrate on where she was, and paid little attention to the many vendors lining both sides of the street. When we reached the end of our walk, which included an old apothecary shop and an ancient post offce, neither very interesting, we took sampans down the canal and back to our starting point. I was as usual, very tired and happy to get back to the bus.

Then to another traditional and delicious Chinese lunch complete with lazy Susan, many appetizers (most of them pickled but different from yesterday) and many courses that included all the meats: chicken, pork, beef and fish, with a great soup and spinach with water chestnuts. All very good, and so different from American Chinese food.

Following lunch, we visited a silk factory where we learned about (and were able to touch, if desired) silk worms, their life cycle – 30 days - their food – only mulberry leaves – and how their cocoons are spun into silk thread. Most interesting to me was that the factory makes silk duvets out of cocoons with two worms. They can’t find the beginning of the silk fiber so they stretch a batch of a cocoon over a bed frame, making many layers that ultimately become a duvet. With a cotton cover, these wereabout $110.00. I passed. After that (and like a leather factory I visited in Turkey), we had a fashion show by grim-faced Chinese models parading down a runway and were encouraged to visit the showroom where we could buy items made in silk. I tried to find a jacket large enough, and appropriate enough, to wear with my tuxedo pants but even XXXL size was not big enough. Chinese men are smaller, especially around! So it had be a few gifts and back to our ship. In all, another very long day.

I note that I’m complaining rather a lot about being tired. But in truth, I am. My travel agent warned me that this trip would be strenuous. And it is. Hard for new knees and a back recovering from two cracked vertabrae. Maybe she was right. I am feeling much older this time and have had to be helped up from sitting and off of boats by fellow travellers with kind attentions. I used to perform those same functions for others who were older than I am. Julie, who is 93 and my “buddy” for the day was much better able to manage, and she was wearing medium heels.

Shanghai, which we will leave this evening, is truly amazing – one skyscraper after another, all interesting if not the finest architecture I’ve seen. Scattered among the endless skyscraers are many apartment buildings that look great from the outside but Mary, who visited a freind in one, said you wouldn’t want to live in one. But then, she’s from Dallas. Buried among all this modernity, there are still a few buildings from the 30’s, the time of the French and British concessions.

I learned today that: a license for a car in Shanghai costs $10,000 American dollars, and that’s before the car – there are plenty of BMW’s and Mercedeses around – an apartment in Shanghai can cost upwards of $30,000 per square meter; Shanghai is the only city with two international airports; the Chinese language has over 50,000 characters and each has four tones, each with a different meaning; a single silk filament from a single cocoon can be as long as 100,000 feet.

This was dinner-on-deck night so the pool area was all set up with tables and chairs and an elaborate buffet. While waiting for dinner, Dede and I stood on the upper-most deck of the ship and took many pictures of the harbor, with all the buildings so dramatically lit up, and the passing dinner ships, all neon and blinking away. It makes Baltimore’s Christmas Parade of Boats very simple by comparison. The harbor area is truly amazing. And to think that all this was done since 1990, when before that, the Pudong area was farmland and rice paddies.

I had dinner with Julie, Mike and Chris (who thinks Obama is a Muslim), and a new couple, Rosanne and Steve, from Toronto. After dinner and the show (on deck, and not very good), we went to the Panorama Lounge where we all danced (including me) until we couldn’t stand any longer. It was much fun.

Stay tuned.

Saturday, September 29, 2012: Shanghai

(My Mom’s birthday; she would have been 104.)

We docked at 4 AM along an unpronouncable river in the heart of Shanghai but the sun rose right over the length of the river so I got great shots. Traffic on the river was heavy at 5 o’clock when I got on deck and when it was still dark outside, many little boats gliding silently by, big bugs on the dark water. I wondered where they were all going and what they were carrying.

Apparently true to others’ exeriences with Chinese officialdom, immigration procedures were changed several times but ultimately we had to go before hard-faced Chinese women officers and have our passports examined and stamped just like entering any other foreign country. The whole procedure added about 10 minutes and a long circuitous walk to going ashore.

My tour, called Highlights of Shanghai, was very long and I was very tired – a lot of walking and seemingly endless steps up and down. First we went to The Bund, an area along the river where many pre-1937 (because that’s the date of the beginning of the invasion by the Japanese0 buildings were erected, forming what was then the Wall Street of Shanghai. Now it’s mostlly a prominade along the riverfront with Shanghai’s incredible modern skyscrapers prominently obvious as a backdrop. We visited them, too, in the New Economic Zone, on Pudong Island, which before 1990 was only farm land and rice paddies. Now it’s one skyscraper after another, some great looking and some not – one building sports Ionic columns up 50 storeys – but all impressive and distinctive, one looking at its top like a giant bottle opener. Most unforgetable is the Oriental Pearl Radio and TV tower, oddly futuristic with mirrored magenta glass balls at several levels. It looks like something left over from the 1939 World’s Fair in New York, except updated and huge. We went up in a very fast, but very smooth, elevator, in the 88-storey Jin Mao building, the second tallest in China, where from the observation lounge all of Shanghai is spread dramatically out to the horizon, making it believable that the population here is 23 million. Very impressive, indeed. Baseball caps at the top cost $35.00. Despite wanting to add to my collection, I passed.

Lunch at the Jin Jang Hotel was a Chinese gourmet affair, many courses, with many Chinese delicacies served at round tables on huge glass lazy Susans. It was in this hotel, old but beautifully appointed, that the 1972 Sino-American joint communique was signed by Chairman Mao and President Nixon. Chopsticks again. The sticks of ginger and the peanuts were especially slippery and hard to control with any grace.

In the afternoon, we visited the old part of Shanghai including a very crowded market area where it was hard to keep up with our guide and we had been warned to guard our valuables from ever-present pickpoockets. There were no incidents, but I became a little claustrophobic pushing my way through such a huge crowd. It reminded me of the enormous press of people in the market square in Morocco. But the buildings provided many photo opportunities. The crowd continued into the 16th century Yan Yuan Garden, in the style of the Ming and Qing Dynasties, with huge walls of pitted stone,carved dragons, teahouses, pavilions and carp ponds. Again, many pictures.

Our day ended (finally; I was exhausted!) with a visit to the Jade Buddha Temple, founded in 1881 and, as usual, carved and painted everywhere. The main attraction, a 10 foot high statue of Lord Buddha carved from a single piece of white Burmese jade, was impressive, but no pictures, please. And the ubiquitous gift shops were in every area of the temple – up and down many steps, narrow for Asian feet.

I was so tired when we returned to the ship – immigration again, as though leaving China – that I had a vodka on the rocks (from the supply of Ketel One in my suite) and went right to bed – no shower, no shave, no dinner.

Stay tuned.