The last four entries are taken straight from emails I’ve sent during this trip. It’s kind of a cop out, but I’ve been having a hard time getting any posts up at all, as I’m sure anyone reading these has noticed, so I just figured that something was better than nothing. One or two of them have been slightly edited, but, for the most part, they’re the same as when I wrote them in a hurry. Therefore, they’re all pretty sporadic and patchy, but, like I said, something’s better than nothing. Right?
Cheers.
April 17, 2009
Japan
Japan was a lot of fun, but logistically overwhelming. Japan is EXPENSIVE. It was something of a shock to my wallet to be back in a country with a powerhouse economy. Some parts of Hong Kong and Shanghai were close, but not at all like Tokyo. Most of my money was spent on transit-- trains, buses, subways-- from Kobe to Hiroshima back to Kobe to Tokyo to Mt Fuji to Tokyo to Yokohama back to Tokyo back to Yokohama. Japan is a beautiful country, and we were lucky enough to be there at the peak of cherry blossom season. All the streets and parks were lined with the beautiful trees, and they made it easy to take a picture worth saving.
Hiroshima was a pretty memorable experience for me. The monument was beautiful and moving. The museum was devastating. You read about things like shadows being burned into stone. I saw one. It’s so strange to see something like that. I’m not sure I would have recognized it for what it was had it not been labeled. It’s surreal and astounding-- astounding the horrific force that could leave such a remnant. I was surprised at how objective the whole thing was though. In Vietnam, war memorials and museums were still very anti American-- maybe Japanese wounds had just had more time to heal-- but the Hiroshima museum was so effective because it was just a reflection. It presented facts, stories, and numbers without passing judgment or blame. Instead they just hoped to prevent such a tragedy from ever ever happening again.
The clothes were the worst. Most of them were of children, and all of them had stories of the owner's life before being incinerated. One shirt-- a little girl's shirt-- was just dirty and white, pretty unremarkable. There were stains from dirt and dust, and it was torn almost to shreds just like the other clothes in the exhibit. Then I examined it closer. I realized that the mud stains were blood stains-- 60 year old pieces of one victim out of thousands infused into the fabric of a plain cotton shirt, and it broke me down.
Despite the heart wrenching feelings one inevitably feels browsing through that museum, the end result, I think, is, ultimately, a hopeful outlook on humanities ability to learn from its mistakes, that, perhaps, someday, the world will be rid of the nuclear threat. It’s a very cool thing. particularly when the cherry blossoms are blooming, creating a pink and white rustling frame around the infamous dome devastated by the blast, there's a feeling that renewal is happening, has happened, and it's a testament to the people who live there. They always live under the unforgivable shadow of that disaster, but they have managed to conquer it.
Mt. Fuji-- Fuji-san-- was probably the other most signifant experience I had in Japan, and seeing it is an experience. It's breathtaking and marvelous, living up to, and surpassing all the hype. Its no wonder its inspired poets and artists for thousands of years. I’ve not dealt with it all the literature or all the art work, but I think the best a poet or an artist can do is pay homage to the magnificence of Fuji. They can never capture it. No poem, no painting, no photograph, no song can contain Fuji on a page, on a canvas, or behind music bars.
Hiroshima was a pretty memorable experience for me. The monument was beautiful and moving. The museum was devastating. You read about things like shadows being burned into stone. I saw one. It’s so strange to see something like that. I’m not sure I would have recognized it for what it was had it not been labeled. It’s surreal and astounding-- astounding the horrific force that could leave such a remnant. I was surprised at how objective the whole thing was though. In Vietnam, war memorials and museums were still very anti American-- maybe Japanese wounds had just had more time to heal-- but the Hiroshima museum was so effective because it was just a reflection. It presented facts, stories, and numbers without passing judgment or blame. Instead they just hoped to prevent such a tragedy from ever ever happening again.
The clothes were the worst. Most of them were of children, and all of them had stories of the owner's life before being incinerated. One shirt-- a little girl's shirt-- was just dirty and white, pretty unremarkable. There were stains from dirt and dust, and it was torn almost to shreds just like the other clothes in the exhibit. Then I examined it closer. I realized that the mud stains were blood stains-- 60 year old pieces of one victim out of thousands infused into the fabric of a plain cotton shirt, and it broke me down.
Despite the heart wrenching feelings one inevitably feels browsing through that museum, the end result, I think, is, ultimately, a hopeful outlook on humanities ability to learn from its mistakes, that, perhaps, someday, the world will be rid of the nuclear threat. It’s a very cool thing. particularly when the cherry blossoms are blooming, creating a pink and white rustling frame around the infamous dome devastated by the blast, there's a feeling that renewal is happening, has happened, and it's a testament to the people who live there. They always live under the unforgivable shadow of that disaster, but they have managed to conquer it.
Mt. Fuji-- Fuji-san-- was probably the other most signifant experience I had in Japan, and seeing it is an experience. It's breathtaking and marvelous, living up to, and surpassing all the hype. Its no wonder its inspired poets and artists for thousands of years. I’ve not dealt with it all the literature or all the art work, but I think the best a poet or an artist can do is pay homage to the magnificence of Fuji. They can never capture it. No poem, no painting, no photograph, no song can contain Fuji on a page, on a canvas, or behind music bars.
Mauritius
We were only in Mauritius for a day, but it was pretty spectacular. I really wish we could've stayed longer. There're a lot of really interesting things going on on that island. There were no indigenous people, so the inhabitants are truly a blend of all the people that ended up, or were brought there, for various reasons. Mauritius was also home to the dodo bird. There were several other flightless birds that evolved on volcanic islands like Mauritius and Hawaii because there were no large mammals or predators, people wiped them all out pretty quick. There was a big pigeon, kind of wren, and even a big flightless parrot, among others.
My day, and most everyone's, in Mauritius was a bit obscene. We pretty much got off the ship, and went to a smaller, sort of private island. There we spent the day lounging, snorkeling, swimming, and overall enjoying the Indian Ocean. There was also a huge cookout which was scrumptious in every way. Because the people come from everywhere, so do the culinary influences. There’s Indian, Creole, French. So good. And there was homemade rum. Man was that good. Mauritius was developed by the British for sugar cane, so the presence of rum is not surprising, but the quality of it blew me away. Better than even any Jamaican rum I’ve had (granted, I’ve never been to Jamaica, so I only get the import). To flavor it-- instead of the nasty syrups or whatever it is they use in flavored rums back home-- they just take plain rum and then drop fruit straight in the bottle. So the coconut rum has a bunch of real, fresh (coconuts everywhere in Mauritius) coconuts floating in it. When you finish the rum you can eat the fruit if you want.... though coconut flavored rum is a lot better than rum flavored coconut. Oh yeah, and they have this beer called Phoenix. I only had some because it's consistently ranked among the top like 5 or 10 beers in the world. Well, it was pretty good I must say.
In case you get the opinion that I just spent my day drinking, I didn't. I explored the little island and went snorkeling, too. Lots and lots of soft corals. Some was brilliant royal blue like I’ve never seen in coral before. And the lava rocks on the shore line made lots of interesting tidal ecosystems.
Neat.
My day, and most everyone's, in Mauritius was a bit obscene. We pretty much got off the ship, and went to a smaller, sort of private island. There we spent the day lounging, snorkeling, swimming, and overall enjoying the Indian Ocean. There was also a huge cookout which was scrumptious in every way. Because the people come from everywhere, so do the culinary influences. There’s Indian, Creole, French. So good. And there was homemade rum. Man was that good. Mauritius was developed by the British for sugar cane, so the presence of rum is not surprising, but the quality of it blew me away. Better than even any Jamaican rum I’ve had (granted, I’ve never been to Jamaica, so I only get the import). To flavor it-- instead of the nasty syrups or whatever it is they use in flavored rums back home-- they just take plain rum and then drop fruit straight in the bottle. So the coconut rum has a bunch of real, fresh (coconuts everywhere in Mauritius) coconuts floating in it. When you finish the rum you can eat the fruit if you want.... though coconut flavored rum is a lot better than rum flavored coconut. Oh yeah, and they have this beer called Phoenix. I only had some because it's consistently ranked among the top like 5 or 10 beers in the world. Well, it was pretty good I must say.
In case you get the opinion that I just spent my day drinking, I didn't. I explored the little island and went snorkeling, too. Lots and lots of soft corals. Some was brilliant royal blue like I’ve never seen in coral before. And the lava rocks on the shore line made lots of interesting tidal ecosystems.
Neat.
Namibia
Namibia is an incredibly beautiful country with incredibly beautiful people. I was completely infatuated with the small portion that I was lucky enough to see. Namibia is the size of Texas and Oklahoma put together, but only has the population of Houston. So people are a little spread out. Looking over Walvis Bay from the ship, it's easy to see the edges of the small town. It looks like a little oasis-- the blue of the ocean on one side, and the white of the Namib desert on every other. When we arrived, there was a group of school girls singing and dancing to welcome us. It was pretty cute. Namibia is trying hard to promote tourism, and it has a lot to offer-- beaches, dunes, German beer, safaris, typical tourist things. It is on the rise, but in a country so small, our ship had a tremendous impact. Everyone new we were coming. In fact, it's estimated that our ship of people alone contributed 10% of the tourist economy for the entire year. People were lined up for a block outside the entrance to the port eager to sell their wares. Some had traveled quite far for the opportunity to tap into the American cash flow. There were even people who obviously came straight from the traditional tribal setting. I can't think of the name of the group off the top of my head right now, but any research on Namibia will bring them up. They're distinguished by the striking red color of their skin, and the intricate hair styles of the women. They use some sort of pigment in the ground to color their bodies, and its actually possible to tell what stage of life a woman is by her hair-- prepubescent, puberty, pregnant, married, etc. There's a different style for each. It's sort of a strange thing to say, but they seemed almost unreal in the urban setting. Though, I think they were beautiful, and I can absolutely see the appeal of their choice in aesthetics.
I spent the first day exploring Walvis Bay. There's really not too much going on. It's just a small town, but there was a fabulous restaurant/bar called The Raft that extended into the water. There were 360 degree views, and we were treated to one of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever seen-- complete with flocks of pelicans flying into it. Our meal was interesting, too. They had all sorts of unique meat. I had kudu. Others in the group had orix, ostrich, warthog, and, I think, springbok. We sort of traded. It was all pretty tasty. Pretty gamey. I think ostrich was actually my favorite. It didn't really taste like bird at all, but was quite delicious.
The next afternoon was spent in the sand dunes. They're just there, right outside city limits. If the Appalachian Mountains suddenly turned orange and yellow and shifting that's sort of what the dune scape is like. The number one past time in the dunes is dune boarding. Think sledding/snowboarding except on sand. We had planned on spending the whole day doing this, and we did in a sense, but the dune we chose-- dune 7 the locals call it-- was so massive and steep that, by the time we got to the top, we couldn't bear the thought of going back to the bottom. Instead, we just chilled at the top. Actually, we most certainly did not chill. The sun was at its highest point, and the sand was something like 77 degrees Celsius. I'm not sure what that is in Fahrenheit, but, if you do the math, I think it equals hot as shit. Sticking your fingers in it was like sticking them in a boiling pot of coffee. So we cooked at the top for quite some time knowing that another hike up was inconceivable. Finally, the prospect of water and a cold beer got to be too much, so we slid/rolled/swore our way to the bottom. Sand boarding is harder than it looks. You go faaast.
One benefit of being colonized by Germans is the fact that they bring their taste for beer. They've managed to come up with several light drinks that seem to have been brewed specifically for the purpose of beating the heat. There's Windoek (pronounced win-dook) Lager, named after and brewed in the capital, and then there's Savannah Dry. It's not beer. It's an absolutely delightful hard cider, and it's 100% refreshing. It's not the same as any cider I've ever had in the States though. That stuff always just tastes like candy in a bottle. This has a bit of a bite to it, and, after being slowly broiled for an afternoon, it's perfect. Then, yet again, there was food. It's hard for me to pass up an open grill, and, in this case I was very well rewarded. It was ox tail-- scrumptious-- served on top of this stuff that I, unfortunately, forget the real name of. Though, I'm pretty sure it's something of a staple in Namibia. I think, basically, it's a sort of corn porridge. Very clumpy, something like a mix between couscous and cream of wheat in appearance. It was very delicious whatever it was.
The next day, I went up to Swakopmund, a very German town a bit north of Walvis Bay. It's significantly more touristy, but I thought I should check it out. Everything you read about Namibia mentions it. It had lots of interesting shops and stores-- mostly local. However, I ended up spending my afternoon swimming in the ocean with several locals I kind of randomly met, and then sharing a beer with them. Namibians are fun, and totally easy going. Very quick to smile. After several laughs I had to make my way back to the ship.
I spent the first day exploring Walvis Bay. There's really not too much going on. It's just a small town, but there was a fabulous restaurant/bar called The Raft that extended into the water. There were 360 degree views, and we were treated to one of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever seen-- complete with flocks of pelicans flying into it. Our meal was interesting, too. They had all sorts of unique meat. I had kudu. Others in the group had orix, ostrich, warthog, and, I think, springbok. We sort of traded. It was all pretty tasty. Pretty gamey. I think ostrich was actually my favorite. It didn't really taste like bird at all, but was quite delicious.
The next afternoon was spent in the sand dunes. They're just there, right outside city limits. If the Appalachian Mountains suddenly turned orange and yellow and shifting that's sort of what the dune scape is like. The number one past time in the dunes is dune boarding. Think sledding/snowboarding except on sand. We had planned on spending the whole day doing this, and we did in a sense, but the dune we chose-- dune 7 the locals call it-- was so massive and steep that, by the time we got to the top, we couldn't bear the thought of going back to the bottom. Instead, we just chilled at the top. Actually, we most certainly did not chill. The sun was at its highest point, and the sand was something like 77 degrees Celsius. I'm not sure what that is in Fahrenheit, but, if you do the math, I think it equals hot as shit. Sticking your fingers in it was like sticking them in a boiling pot of coffee. So we cooked at the top for quite some time knowing that another hike up was inconceivable. Finally, the prospect of water and a cold beer got to be too much, so we slid/rolled/swore our way to the bottom. Sand boarding is harder than it looks. You go faaast.
One benefit of being colonized by Germans is the fact that they bring their taste for beer. They've managed to come up with several light drinks that seem to have been brewed specifically for the purpose of beating the heat. There's Windoek (pronounced win-dook) Lager, named after and brewed in the capital, and then there's Savannah Dry. It's not beer. It's an absolutely delightful hard cider, and it's 100% refreshing. It's not the same as any cider I've ever had in the States though. That stuff always just tastes like candy in a bottle. This has a bit of a bite to it, and, after being slowly broiled for an afternoon, it's perfect. Then, yet again, there was food. It's hard for me to pass up an open grill, and, in this case I was very well rewarded. It was ox tail-- scrumptious-- served on top of this stuff that I, unfortunately, forget the real name of. Though, I'm pretty sure it's something of a staple in Namibia. I think, basically, it's a sort of corn porridge. Very clumpy, something like a mix between couscous and cream of wheat in appearance. It was very delicious whatever it was.
The next day, I went up to Swakopmund, a very German town a bit north of Walvis Bay. It's significantly more touristy, but I thought I should check it out. Everything you read about Namibia mentions it. It had lots of interesting shops and stores-- mostly local. However, I ended up spending my afternoon swimming in the ocean with several locals I kind of randomly met, and then sharing a beer with them. Namibians are fun, and totally easy going. Very quick to smile. After several laughs I had to make my way back to the ship.
Morocco
So. Morocco. Insane. I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting, but it was like a culture shot straight to the jugular. I went straight to Marrakech when we arrived, and spent my whole time there. I wanted to get to Rick's on the last day just to say I'd been, but the weather was nasty in Casablanca, and I was exhausted and probably would have been late getting back on the ship. Marrakech is fabulous though. Initially, it was a little overwhelming. I ended up by my self for about half of the first day and for the first night. I got split from the group because we were trying to decide where to stay, and I went to the one I thought would be best, and they did the same. My room consisted of a queen sized bed and a sink. That's it. The walls were about 4 feet from the bed on every side. It was a little sketch, but it was also right on the square-- right in the beating heart of Marrakech. So I got settled in, and started wandering around the markets by myself, and, honestly, I got a little nervous for a bit. I don't get nervous that easily, and I like being alone, but it was just so completely different from anything I've experienced. The markets are set up like this: imagine a very large plaza-- they call it the square, but its shaped more like an angular potato-- the plaza serves like the hub, and from it-- from all sides-- snakes and mazes of streets shoot out, winding together like the web of a drunken spider. Along these side alleys are packed every sort of vendor or peddler you can imagine-- every single one tugging, pulling, yelling at you to by their wares. Row after row and shop after shop stocked with scarves, robes, bangles, fake purses, fake sunglasses, spices, shoes, jewelry, paintings, pots-- anything you can possibly imagine-- blast every one of your senses to the point of overstimulation. I spent two days lost in these markets (souqs). To buy something, you have to barter, and I found out I love to barter! It's so much fun. I made several purchases, and each time it's like a game between you and the shop keeper. What makes it more fun is the fact that most Moroccans are the nicest people I've ever met, so the whole operation is done with a smile and laughter.
Then there's the square itself. Every evening as the sun begins to head down, the plaza comes alive. Con artists and performers of all sorts gather, and crowds come together to watch the excitement. I was pleased to see that the majority of the spectators were actually Moroccan, not just tourists. There are funny dancers dressed in wild colors, snake charmers, monkeys, storytellers, and the food stands. Oh, the food!!! When the square is really going, there are rows and rows of food stands, and, when they all start cooking, the steam rises and the smell rises, and everyone just starts salivating. There are lamb kabobs, various kinds of delicious breads, pastries, olives, dates, figs, fish, calamari, snails-- which, by the way, are delicious, and much much more. Probably my very favorite was the mint tea. It's everywhere, and it's sooo delicious.
Oh yeah, I rode a camel, too.
Then there's the square itself. Every evening as the sun begins to head down, the plaza comes alive. Con artists and performers of all sorts gather, and crowds come together to watch the excitement. I was pleased to see that the majority of the spectators were actually Moroccan, not just tourists. There are funny dancers dressed in wild colors, snake charmers, monkeys, storytellers, and the food stands. Oh, the food!!! When the square is really going, there are rows and rows of food stands, and, when they all start cooking, the steam rises and the smell rises, and everyone just starts salivating. There are lamb kabobs, various kinds of delicious breads, pastries, olives, dates, figs, fish, calamari, snails-- which, by the way, are delicious, and much much more. Probably my very favorite was the mint tea. It's everywhere, and it's sooo delicious.
Oh yeah, I rode a camel, too.
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