Globetrot

The Middle East

2007-07-02T06:14:00.000-07:00

DUBAI, U.A.E. 9th MAY – 11th MAY
by Dori

Our flight on Emirates from Bangalore to Damascus
stopped in Dubai, so we decided to spend one day
checking out a city that we had heard was the “Las
Vegas” of the Middle East.

Dubai is a fascinating place: First of all it is an
emirate, with its own ruler, Mohammed bin Rashid Al
Maktoum. Five emirates joined to form the United Arab
Emirates in 1971, which is located north of Saudi
Arabia and west of Oman.

We arrived late on a Wednesday night but even in the
dark, the wealth and modernity of Dubai is visible
everywhere. Everything is new including the airport,
and a taxi whisked us to our hip Ibis hotel that’s
connected to the new convention center.

We had read that one of the few historical areas of
Dubai was the Souq (or bazaar) down by the Dubai creek
where Dubai was founded. Everything from spices to
computers is sold in the district around the bazaar.
But by 9am it was sunny and hot in Dubai, so the souq
wasn’t too busy – mostly people went straight from
their cars into air-conditioned shops.

From the souq we walked to the Dubai museum which
turned out to be very cool: Most of the museum was
made up of rooms filled with mannequins, artifacts and
soundtracks that attempted to recreate life in Dubai
for the hundreds of years previous to the last 50
during which all of Dubai’s development has taken
place. It’s truly amazing – the people of Dubai went
from living in tents along the creek to a city full of
skyscrapers and a global population in one lifetime.
And there’s no end to the growth – from the museum we
took a cab across the city and there are at least 50
enormous skyscrapers under construction. Most of them
will house the global immigrants that move to Dubai
every year in search of tax-free salaries.

From afar we were able to see the Burj Al-Arab hotel –
one of the most famous hotels in the world. It cost
$1.5 to build and the cheapest room is $1,000 per
night. It was built right into the ocean, and the
lower floors are aquariums where you can see the ocean
life outside the hotel walls. This is only one of many
amazing things about this hotel – you can learn more
about it at:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burj_al-arab

Our next stop was the Mall of the Emirates. No
ordinary mall, this mall includes an indoor ski area –
there’s only one run, but it’s about 3 stories high,
and the snow is real! We didn’t blow a ton of money
trying it out, but people looked like they were having
fun. We were amazed to see that this mall was filled
with people from all over the world, including lots of
Westerners that obviously lived in Dubai.

Not only is Dubai extremely wealthy like the other
emirates, but it is also ruled by a very progressive
sultan with policies that promote economic and
population growth. While the local population of Arabs
native to Dubai make up only about 5-10% of the
population, the majority of the city’s population is
Arabs from other parts of the Middle East, westerners,
and the largest immigrant group, Indians.

One of my friends from Thunderbird, Manish Punjabi, is
one of these Indian immigrants whose family has been
living in Dubai for many years now. Manish works for a
telecom company in downtown and shares an apartment
nearby with his friend Kevek, who joined us for dinner
that night.

Once the sun goes down, Dubai becomes the perfect
temperature, so we met up with Manish and Kevek, took
a stroll along the creek, and ended up at a Persian
restaurant where we all sat on a large rug, ate
wonderful food and smoked a hookah pipe (called
Sheesha in Persian).

It was great to get an insiders view of both Dubai,
and India where we’d just come from, from Manish and
Kevek. They joked that, “Dubai is India’s greatest
city,” due to the fact that a majority of Indian
immigrants have helped make Dubai what it is today.
However they did say that there was some
discrimination towards Indians – they are not welcome
at posh clubs where locals hang out (they are told
they’re “not on the list”).

We ended our only, but very full day, in Dubai at a
jazz club inside one of Dubai’s hotels with drinks and
live jazz. Alcohol is ONLY served inside hotels, as
the majority of the local conservative Muslim
population does not drink. The next morning we left
for Syria.

We had a great time in Dubai, but there was something
slightly artificial about the all the brand new,
ostentatious skyscrapers in the middle of the desert…a
lot like Las Vegas.

SYRIA 11th May – 21st May

We catch an early flight out of Dubai to Damascus. My father was born in Homs, Syria and I have many relatives living there whom I haven’t seen since I visited in 1980. I am looking forward to seeing everyone again and introducing them to Dori. Both of us however, have some trepidation traveling here as Americans given the catastrophe brought on by our current administration. It must be said that our guidebook states right from the beginning that Syria is one of the safest countries to travel in period, and there has never been one documented case of violence against a Westerner.

On our approach, we can see Damascus airport, it consists of two runways without any activity on them. Curious then, our plane circles the airport 4 times before landing. The flight crew offers no explanation for the extra flying, leaving many of us to curiously gaze out the window, until we finally descend and land on the next pass.

We make our way to passport control and after several minutes trying to explain our occupations to the amused man behind the glass (“computer” for film editing and “dentist” for dental products marketing) our passports are stamped and we are in Syria.

“Go back as far as you will into the vague past, there was always a Damascus…She has looked upon the dry bones of a thousand empires and will see the tombs of a thousand more before she dies.” Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad, 1869

Damascus is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. Excavations in the Umayyad mosque have been dated back to the 3rd millennium B.C. Conquerors over time have included King David of Israel, the Assyrians, the Persians, Alexander the Great, the Romans, the Ottomans and from 1920 – 1945, it was a French mandate. In 1945 Damascus became the capital of an Independent Syria.

We arranged a car from our hotel to pick us up at the airport which lies about 15 miles outside Damascus. As we near the city the sky takes on a strange sepia color. We later learn this is caused by a sandstorm moving in from the eastern desert and probably the cause of our delayed landing. We later ask if this is normal (the storms) and are told it’s a pretty rare occurrence, once or twice a year. We arrive on a Friday, which is the weekend in Syria. Everything is closed and the streets of Damascus are almost completely empty of traffic and pedestrians. This combined with the curious sky and the ubiquitous banners of Bashar Assad give the city a ghostly feel.

We visit the Umayyad mosque. Worship on this site dates back 3000 years and the mosque itself is a beautiful and tranquil structure. We visit the “Special Dressing Room” and Dori dons a long grey robe, we remove are shoes and walk around the open courtyard before going inside the prayer hall where the “Shrine of John the Baptist,” a marble and green glass structure, sits in the center of the hall. According to old stories, a casket was found under the basilica floor in the 8th century and was said to contain the Saint’s head.

Afterwards we spend the rest of the day wandering through the old city and it’s winding streets. Merchants stand in front of their shops enticing us to come look “for the pleasure of our eye” at what they’re offering. We take a look at a couple shops regardless whether or not you buy anything browsing always turns into coffee, tea and chitchat with the shop-owner.

We have dinner in a restored Ottoman house in the old city and puff on nargileh (hookah) in between our mesas (appetizers) and Arak. Arak is a by product of the wine-making process, a brandy made from the bits left over, like Italian grappa but with the addition of aniseed. Needless to say it’s pretty strong stuff, the quality is usually determined by how you feel the next day.

The next day Damascus comes alive and the streets and souks are filled with people going about their day. In the afternoon we get a pleasant surprise, the Middle Eastern rep from the company Dori worked at has put us in touch with some friends in Damascus.

We go to a beautifully restored Ottoman house that is now a boutique hotel with a restaurant and an art gallery. Called ‘Art House,’ its current exhibition is works by Syrian expatriates. The architect who has remodeled the premises gives us a quick tour and a description of each of the works.

After dinner Farzat and Fayza take us for a drive around Damascus. It’s a completely different city at night, the urban sprawl becomes a sea of lights. We drive to the nearby mountain ‘Jebel Qassioun.’ People are parked all along the way; families, couples, friends, all having snacks and taking in the view.

The next day we take a taxi 2 hours north the city of Homs. This is where my father was born and where most of my relatives are living. Homs is the 3rd largest city in Syria after Damascus and Aleppo and is definitely more of an industrial city with textile manufacturing making up the majority of business here.

We arrive at the apartment building where most of my relatives still live and it’s pretty surreal and quite emotional to see all these faces again after almost 30 years. Almost all my relatives are still in Syria except for 4 cousins living elsewhere 3 of whom I was able to speak with via my aunt Sana’s mobil since they are her daughters. We spend the week talking about life in the USA, life in Syria, family origins, politics, careers etc, all over wonderful homemade meals. The embarrassing chubby photos from 1980 make an appearance (not included here!) so we make sure to take many new (bit less chubby) pix to replace the incriminating evidence.

My cousins take us on different tours in and around Homs. On day we visit the Krak Des Chevaliers, one of the most well preserved Crusader castles in the world.

Another day we visit the creaking, wooden waterwheels of Hama called norias. Built as early as 5th century AD, these wheels used the river currents to scoop up water and deposit onto an aqueduct where the water would flow for irrigation purposes. Sitting in a café, there is something hypnotic about these wheels and many Arabian poets have written of the “sad wheels of Hama.”

We plan on going out to the desert to see the ruins of Palmyra but flash flooding has closed the roads.

After one week in Homs it’s time to move on so we exchange all the pertinent emails, addresses and numbers and bid our farewells. My cousin Moukles drives Dori and I to Aleppo where we will spend on day before catching a bus into Turkey. It’s a two-hour drive and as we head north I’m amazed at the fertileness of the land on Syria’s western side. Acres upon acres of crops fill the horizon as do the mountains of Jebel Ansariyya.

When we pull into Aleppo it definitely has a much more metropolitan, busy commerce feel than anywhere else we’ve been in Syria. Dominating the skyline is the Citadel, which the Muslims used as a base during the Crusades. The three of us walk around the Citadel and then walk through Aleppo’s vast souk on the hunt for the fabled Aleppo hand soap made from laurel and olive oil.

We spend one night in the city, have a great meal on a rooftop terrace restaurant near our hotel. Speaking of which, our hotel in Aleppo deserves mention. It’s called the Baron Hotel and was once the preeminent place to stay in the Middle East. Time has not been kind but it was interesting to see in the lobby a bar bill from TE Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) and notes from Agatha Christie who wrote part of ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ while staying here.

The next day we catch an early bus out of the Aleppo to the Syrian/Turkey border and cross over without incident. As the Syrian border recedes behinds us, Dori and I both know we’ve been somewhere truly special where friends and family took us in and gave us a glimpse into this country few Americans will ever see.

India – 26th of April to 9th of May

2007-05-23T07:51:00.000-07:00

We leave Denpasar and connect through Bangkok to arrive in Bangalore, India. Bangalore is the IT capital of India, and also a major site of USA outsourcing. Bangalore is described in our travel book as “a rapidly expanding, progressive city with great wealth.” Unfortunately, our first impression is a dirty, polluted mess. There is a definite infrastructure issue in Bangalore. The pot-holed streets are choked with traffic and the exhaust is sickening. For every new luxury building there seems to be a tin fence, which if peered through reveals a shanty slum. The poverty barely tucked away is eye-opening and very sad.

We stayed in the Casa Piccola Cottages, which was a sweet refuge from the city streets. It was near an area called Johnson Market, which was a true olfactory offense. Cages of chickens awaiting their demise mixed with diesel fumes, sweat, sewage and spices.

The Rickshaw…

Rickshaws are ubiquitous, three-wheeled diesel taxicabs puttering all throughout the city. Sounding like a 40 year-old lawnmower, they are the easiest way to maneuver through a big city like Bangalore. They are also the scariest mode of transport one could possibly imagine. With the safety impact rating of a beer can and open sides, rickshaws have the maneuverability of a bicycle and the drivers take advantage of that. After 10 or so near misses we just put ourselves in the mindset of “this is a professional driver and we will not hit that oncoming bus.”

When traveling to a new country it takes some time to adjust. Regardless of ones expectations, what really defines a place is the people. For the most part, the people we met were very friendly and we engaged in some great conversations with people on the street. One thing that took a little getting used to is the fact that Indian people are not shy about staring. Usually it’s a long, unblinking (Um…I’m getting a little freaked out here) stare. More often than not, that person will walk up and ask, “Where do you come from? What is your occupation?” and “What do you think of Bush?” Not very subtle but good fun.

And the food we had was amazing. We ate dinner at a vegetarian restaurant called Konnark and it was sublime. There is Indian food as we know it (the States) and then there is INDIAN FOOD. Of interest, in southern India most people eat with their right hand (no utensils), the left hand being reserved for bathroom duties and considered unclean. We are both left-handed. Fortunately, our ability to blend in was quite laughable and we were provided utensils.

After two nights in Bangalore we flew down to Kochi in the state of Kerala. From there we took a cab to Alappuzha (Alleppy), a small town surrounded by canals reminiscent of Venice. The allure here is to rent a houseboat and travel along the 900km network of backwaters of the area.

We chartered a boat recommended by our hotel neighbors for an overnight cruise along the waterways. The boat had 2 levels and was shaped like a Kettuvallum (rice barge). We had a crew of three: captain, cook and deck hand. The cruise was completely relaxing and the backwaters themselves were fascinating to slowly troll through. We cruised past small river villages and their shrines, mosques, temples and schools. Houses were built on narrow strips of land, some barely 20 feet wide.

Before sunset we docked near a tiny village and walked around making quick friends with a group of boys completely smitten with Dori. One interesting aspect of the geography here is many of the rice paddies off the waterways sit below sea level.

We hooked our ipod into the boat’s stereo, had a wonderful dinner and took in the sunset from the top level of the boat…ahhh.

Shortly after nightfall an electrical storm moved in and over us. While we were content to watch from the top, the crew quickly rolled down the rattan shades and said we had to go downstairs till the storm passed. I guess their insurance didn’t cover passenger electrocution.

We headed back to port the next morning and made our way back toward Kochi. The plan was to take an overnight train up to the state of Goa but we had an entire day to play since the train didn’t leave until 10:30pm. Using our trusty Lonely Planet guide we booked a ‘budget’ room in nearby Ernakulam as a place to store luggage for the day. Budget was a wishful description for the room. With its single fluorescent tube over the bed and it’s newspaper lined drawers, we felt as we stepped into a Bukowski transit room, all that was missing was cheap scotch and a penchant for street poetry.

We took a rickshaw over into Fort Cochin, which lies across the water from Kochi and wandered around the Portuguese streets. The Portuguese, led by Vasco De Gama, arrived in India in 1498 seeking a sea route between Europe and the East for spice trade. They established a strong presence in the state of Goa and a minor one in Kochi.

Onto Goa…

We took and overnight train from Ernakulam up to Goa for the last leg of our India trip. Goa is India’s wealthiest state, known for it’s beaches and laid back atmosphere. The Portuguese up until 1961 occupied it and the major religion in Goa is Catholicism.

We are there in low season so the area is relatively sparse as far as tourists. We stayed in Anjuna, a chill beach town (this time of year) toward the north end of Goa. We rented a scooter and had great fun driving all along the winding roads throughout the area.

Something that was very interesting for us is seeing swastikas on many shrines, temples and artwork (In Bali and Japan too).

From Wikipedia –
“The swastika (from Sanskrit svástika) is an equilateral cross with its arms bent at right angles, in either right-facing (卐) or left-facing (卍) forms. The term is derived from Sanskrit svasti, meaning well-being. The swastika is a widely-used symbol in Dharmic religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism). Hindus often decorate the swastika with a dot in each quadrant. It is also a symbol in the modern unicode. It is often imprinted on religious texts, marriage invitations, decorations etc. It is used to mark religious flags in Jainism and to mark Buddhist temples in Asia.”

We took a day trip into Old Goa to see some fantastic old Cathedrals. The remains of St Francis Xavier, the Jesuit missionary responsible for bringing Catholism to Goa, lay in Se Cathedral.

While we were in Goa there was no alcohol being served because of the upcoming municipal elections. The powers-that-be feel that emotions run too hot during this period and stop the libations for 4 days to keep the roads somewhat safe. The day after the election was like being at a Bears tailgate party, pick-up trucks stuffed with people with their faces painted blue screaming and honking all day. While we can appreciate the concern for public safety, the ice-cold Kingfisher beer was sorely missed for 4 days.

After Goa we flew to Bangalore for 1 more night before catching a plane to Dubai the next morning.

We have mixed feelings about India. On one hand, the history, architecture and countryside we saw were spectacular. We met some very cool and interesting people along the way who gave us great insight into the regions we explored and India in general. The downside was the heart-breaking poverty, the garbage (which was staggering) and the infrastructure in many parts. Of course, we only saw a miniscule portion of this enormous country with its 26 languages and 1 billion people. A land of contrasts to be sure.

Coming (relatively) soon – Dubai and Syria

Bali & Lombok, Indonesia April 10-26th

2007-04-27T03:25:00.000-07:00

.

"My skin turned the color of the earth, I felt like a tree.
People asked my name, the next day they remembered who I was..."
BALI EYES - Perry Farell

We land in Denpasar, de-plane and step out into...

...The Heat

Bali is hot...a tropical, stones throw from the equator (8 degrees), steamy, glasses fogging-up hot. We meet our hotel appointed driver and make our way toward Seminyak, about 40 minutes from the airport. Like Japan, everyone drives on the left side of the road. The difference is the rules of the road manual was tossed out along with the Japanese after WWII.

Every road seems to be about 1 1/2 lanes wide to accommodate what seems like 6 lanes of traffic. Lot's of horns here, not aggressive honking, more like little 'excuse me' taps. Moving Evel Knievel style through the cars and SUV's are the scooters. "Like mosquitoes" says our driver, horn tapping and swerving to avoid a motorbike driven by a woman with her four (!!??) passengers. Kid you not, little boy on the driver's lap, driver, little girl, another woman and another little boy.

We get to our hotel and settle in. It's a very charming Balinese style group of bungalows called Puri Cendana. Seminyak and neighboring Kuta (where the 2002 bombings occurred) are known for their vast beaches and nightlife. They are also somewhat notorious for their tout's. Touts are selling sunglasses, hats, beach chairs, 1/20 scale wooden motorcycles (?), hotel rooms, watches, jewelry and so on. A typical exchange:
Tout: Good Afternoon my friend, you want nice hat yes?
Doryeh: No thank you.
Tout: Ah but good quality yes, see many colors…
Doryeh: (already wearing hat) not interested, thanks
Tout (walking with): Ah but good price, maybe 2 for better price yes…
Doryeh: Nope, don’t need.
Tout: Maybe tomorrow yes?
(when someone says ‘maybe tomorrow’ the exchange is over)
Doryeh: Maybe
Another tourist passes and the tout moves on.
“Hey brother, you want hat yes…”

The most oft-heard offer on Bali is “transport?” There is always a driver ready to whisk you off to wherever you need to go. Walking from our hotel to find a restaurant we pass a line of 10 taksi’s (sp) and each one asks “tranport?”
“No Thanks.”
“Maybe tomorrow yes?”

We walk for about 10 minutes and are both soaked thru from said heat. The next offer of transport is readily taken up and the bargaining process begins. “How much to Ku De Ta?” “30 thousand” (Indonesian Rupia is around 9000 to 1 USD), “No, Fifteen.” The driver ponders a moment, “25 thousand.” We counter-counter-offer with 20. It is agreed and we get in his car, glorious A/C cranked and take a back road that wouldn’t be out of place in Beruit. As we bounce around the back seat we see a myriad of styles and stores next to each other; designer boutiques, hi end eateries, dilapidated hotels, push carts set-up serving street food, K convenience stores, (‘watch out for those dogs!’ – more on that) internet cafes, scooter dealers/repair and so on.

We get to Ku De Ta, a restaurant/lounge on the beach and settle in one of their immense sofa/barca loungers facing a floodlight lit night ocean, order some foo-foo drinks and appetizers and settle into the chill music, the surf and the day.

A little aside. Indonesia is predominately Muslim. Bali is an anomaly among the islands because it is mainly Hindu. There is a wonderful sense of spirituality and tolerance in Bali that is apparent from day one. In front of every home, storefront, restaurant is a little offering arranged on a palm leaf filled with flowers, incense and rice. These are offerings to the gods, spirits, ancestors and demons that live in Bali. These offerings are really quite beautiful in their arrangement and are made throughout the day.

Many of these offerings are eaten by the dogs that run around the island, mangy single or pack dogs that the Balinese barely acknowlege exist (therefore they reproduce unchecked). One driver told us that many Balinese consider the dogs to be evil spirits manifested.

After 2 days in Seminyak and Kuta, the heat, traffic, exhaust and touts began to wear on us. We woke early and met our next driver Wayan in front of the hotel and left for Ubud.

As the city receded and we made our way north the buildings and traffic gave way to rice paddies, intricate shrines, more vibrant shades of green than can be imagined. The jungle thickened and deepened and the lushness of it was almost tangible. Moving up in altitude the air cools off a bit, the clouds formations in the distance are for lack of a better word, perfect. These are the kind of clouds that make you want to take up oil painting. In short the Bali of anticipation was unveiling itself in spades.

Our driver Wayan and his wife Ketat owned the bungalows in Ubud we stayed in. Called Gerebig, these bungalows were located outside the city center and overlooked a small rice paddy. It was beyond perfect.

Ubud is an artist’s enclave. Painters, metal workers, wood carvers, stone carvers and jewelers have workshops and studios in and around the city. There are large, pristine acres of rice paddies and terraces and dense jungle foliage, towering coconut and banyan trees. We took several walks around the countryside and eventually rented a scooter to explore a bit further out.

We planned on staying in Ubud 5 days and ended up staying 10. There are a lot of expat’s living in Bali, most in Ubud. It was interesting talking to a lot of these people, hearing what drew them here, how 6 months turned into 15 years. The Balinese people in the Ubud area are disarmingly friendly. After Seminyak we became a bit bristled at every hello because it was usually followed by the hard sell. In Ubud a “good morning” is always genuine and in abundance.

We took in several traditional dances, the Legong and Kecek Fire/Trance dance were particularily awesome.

We were there during Saraswati, which is celebration of books and knowledge. All the school kids were dressed in traditional ceremony garb and all the high schoolers were out and about on scooters with their friends and significant others.

The Balinese people we encountered were also big believers in luck, for example shopkeepers have a ritual of taking the money from the first sale of the day and saying out loud as they hold it up, “for good luck” and then patting many of the items in their store with the money, hoping that the luck of the sale would move the other items. With regards to the tourist industry, many Balinese told us that ecomonic conditions have been difficult since the bombings in Kuta – tourism is still way down, so competition among hotels, taxis, etc is fierce.

One day trip involved hiring a driver and visiting an enourmous shrine called Gunung Kawi. The highlight is 10 rock shrines cut directly into the cliff face. These are said to have been created in one night by a single fingernail of Kebo Iwa. Gotta love the stories!

Further up the road we came to Danan Batur, a large lake which sits at the base of the volcano Gunung Batur. The side of the volcano is stained black from the constant lava trickle.

Many days in Ubud were spent relaxing; walks, some yoga, an outdoor movie across the street from our bungalow. Eventually the time came and we reluctantly packed up for the last little leg of our Indonesian jaunt, the Gili Islands.

The Gilis are three small islands just off Lombok, which is the Indonesian island just east of Bali. The Gilis are far less developed, perhaps how Bali was 20 years ago, with small hotels and restaurants right on the sand.

We chartered a speedboat which took us to Gili Air, the smallest of the three. The ride was great, took about 2 hours as opposed to the alternate way of taking multiple public ferries which take the entire day.

Gili and the rest of Lombok is primarily Muslim but any preconceived notion of a rigid, oppressive lifestyle is quickly dispensed because on the Gilis, at least, they know how to party. Sitting back, drinking tasty mojito’s mixed up by a Rastafarian Muslim named Naz, we listened to Bob Marley and watched our red snapper cooking over coconut charcoals. Gili Air was very secluded and low key, a great way to spend the day. We left the next day for Gili Trawangan, the largest of the 3 and ‘the’ Party Island (we skipped Gili Meno as there was mention of malaria). Gili T was fairly bustling (high season is still 2 months away) with lots of Australian, German and Dutch folk on holiday. We snorkled in Turbo reef (got to get dive certified back in LA!) and had a great time that night in Tir Na Nog, an Irish bar where we also rented a room.

One interesting and completely awesome aspect to the Gilis is that motor vehicles are not allowed on the island. Transportation is instead provided by pony drawn carts called Cidomos.

The next day we took another speedboat back to Bali. The ride turned scary when we got caught in a storm while we were out on the open ocean between islands. Without any land in site, we bounced along through the choppy waves and had to hold on as stinging rain and seawater pelted our faces and soaked us. We began to understand how the Gilis were able to maintain a small tourist population – they’re difficult to get to, but hold great allure.

We spent a final night in Semiyak back at Puri Cendana then accepted one last call for “transport” and headed to the airport.

Bali…truly a state of mind.

Many thanks to Laura, Peter and Mark for their recommendations and advice.

(coming soon…ramblings from India)

TOKYO, JAPAN 3 April - 10 April 2007

2007-04-09T02:53:00.000-07:00

We leave LAX at 2:30pm and arrive into Narita airport at 6pm...the next day. Leaving our fellow Angelenos 13 hours behind we arrive at the first stop of our travels: Tokyo, Japan.

The train ride from the airport to Tokyo takes about an hour and a half. The subway signs luckily have English text for us gaijins (foreigners). The map detailing the subway is enormous but it turns out to be very straightforward to use.

After a quiet train ride in a very clean train we arrive into Takadanobaba station. Baba, as it's called, is mostly a college student haunt. We emerge from he station into a beehive of traffic, pedestrians, lights, billboards and exhaust. Near the station exit a young man is on his knees throwing up into some bushes, his girlfriend holding his head. We cross the street and on the other side another kid is on his knees throwing up, sans girlfriend. Moving thru the crowds are small groups of college kids, each group carries a banner, it's members singing in drunken good humor. Turns out these are drinking clubs from the local college. Welcome to Japan!

We make our way to our Inn. We are staying in a traditional Ryokan where we have a small bedroom with tatami mats and sleep on futon floor mats. Calling the room small is an understatement. We stay there for 3 nights and then move into a hotel in Shiodome where we finish our stay.

Tokyo is definitely a challenge to navigate for the non-Japanese speaker. Address and street names are rare. Every restaurant menu is in Japanese, luckily most menus have photo's of all their dishes so good gaijins like us can smile and point. And the food? Fantastic! From a simple bowl of ramen to the freshest sushi, the Japanese do not mess around when it comes to the palate.

Japanese people are very polite and kind, and have always tried to help us when we’ve asked, but few of them have spoken English well enough to be able to help us (not that they should have to speak English in their own country, but as you can imagine, Japanese is not an easy language to learn). An example of the extraordinary coolness of Japanese people: today we were walking from a temple to the train and were caught in light shower. A woman was stopped in traffic, she got out of her car, ran across the road and gave us an extra umbrella. Domo arigato!

We have taken in quite a few sights during our weeklong stay. We've walked thru the gardens of the Imperial Palace, wandered thru the Tokyo Tsukiji Fish Market (the world's largest) and watched the Cos-play-zoku congregate on the Meji-jingu bridge in Harajuku. However the most interesting thing about Japan is the culture, which is totally unique to our Western ways.

For example, yesterday we visited one of the many public baths here in Tokyo, called “Sento.” In the past, most Japanese homes did not have baths, so it was the custom to bathe at the local bathhouse, and there is still a bathhouse in many neighborhoods in Tokyo. There are separate baths for men and women, and once inside you shower in a large open shower with other people, and then soak in a Jacuzzi together. One interesting feature of the sento near us was the electric pool. One area of the bath has low electric currents running thru it, supposedly to simulate swimming with electric eels.

Aside from the public bathing, Japanese people are very demure, and the result is that Tokyo is a pretty serene and quiet city despite its enourmous size. For example, we were crushed into a full subway car during morning rush hour, and no one spoke a word, plus people backed into the subway car, so as not to “deliberately” push anyone. People are also very polite about cell phone use here - they rarely use them inside shops or even walking on the street. Most amazing, we haven’t heard a single car horn, not one.

We explored the first 4 days on our own and then on Saturday met up with several alumni from Thunderbird (Dori's graduate school) at a restaurant called Gonpachi. This is the restaurant the Prime Minister took Dub'ya when he came to Tokyo...we ate there anyway. The evening was a blast, with beer and Japanese tapas flowing freely. It was great to get a local perspective on daily living in Tokyo.

The next day Rei (Dori's school friend) took us to amazing Italian restaurant for brunch, then to the Ultra sleek Mori Art museum in Roppongi to see an interesting exhibit called "The Art of Laughter." We finished our afternoon with a visit to the revered Senso-ji temple in Asakusa where we witnessed a beautiful Buddist procession. An amazing day, thanks Rei!

Today we took a day trip out of the city to Kamakura about an hour south of Tokyo. It was a great change of pace, very quaint, green and peaceful with astoundingly beautiful temples and shrines peppered throughout the area.

A whirlwind week to be sure and it feels like we barely scratched the surfce of this amazing city. Alas, time to pack and get ready for an early ride to the airport as we head to Bali. Till then, Sayanora