I is in China

Tuesday, Feb 9th, 8:30 a.m.

I'm sitting on my sister's couch in a small apartment somewhere tucked into the urban jungle of eastern Shanghai. Through the window, concrete apartment high rises frame a narrow alley where bicyclists trickle by every few seconds.

Vanessa, Ramsey, and Lu (Ness's friend staying here) are all still asleep. It was well into the wee hours of the morning when I finally got to bed, or in this case, to couch, after having not slept in 30 hours. Now I'm wide awake, likely because my body still thinks it's in another time zone. Well I got news for you, body, you're in China. We'll see who's near collapse in a few hours when it's broad daylight and you think it's night. Who'll be laughing then?

The plane ride over was pleasant, if a bit maddening at times. Being cramped in a metal coffin zooming through the sky for 16 hours will do that to you. I sat next to a gregarious, if somewhat stinky, postal worker on his way to Thailand for the "adventure of a lifetime." He was very chatty and eager to discuss his upcoming trip. His fat rolls were also eager to spill over into my seat. Boo.

Korea Air has pretty great service, I have to note. In total, 3 great meals, lots of snacks, juice, hot towels, etc. The in-flight entertainment consisted of screens on each seat with a kazillion movies to choose from, most just barely out of theaters. I watched five of them – anything to shut the fat man up from listing his itinerary for the 15th time. No I kid, fat man, have fun in Thailand.

The Korean layover went smoothly, although the gate changed inexplicably twice. Arriving in Shanghai, getting my bags, and going through customs also went off without a hitch. Then I was stranded for about 2 hours as my sister and I waited for each other in different terminals.

It's an odd feeling, having no phone, knowing no Mandarin beyond a few phrases, and having no idea what to do next in a very alien place. I walked around with my bags, near panic, sleep deprived, and surely made a pathetic sight. I couldn't work the stupid pay phones to call Vanessa's cell. No matter what button I pushed some electronic-voiced lady came on and spouted something in Chinese. (Most likely translation: "Haha, no phone for you sucka.")

I also learned that when someone says they speak English, it really means they THINK they speak English. The info desk lady somehow interpreted my saying, "How do I use the phone to call my sister?" into "I'm trying to get to Australia."

Suffice it to say, when Ness and I saw each other it was a huge relief. She was pretty miserable, having waited in the wrong place for nearly 3 hours (the other terminal listed my flight arriving too – so you can't blame her). We took a long bus ride, followed by a taxi (in which Vanessa forced the taxi guy not to rip us off with her impressive Mandarin), and finally got to her apartment. My first impressions of Shanghai are pretty much nonexistant – I don't remember seeing much out the bus window except dark haze and street lamps and cars.

But now Ness is waking and cooking me breakfast (woo!) and we'll soon be replacing my non-impressions with first impressions. I'll try to keep this blog updated when I can get this VPN to work. China no likey blogger.


(photo: found in my sister's bathroom.Awesome)

Pacific Northwest - Day 7-8

I took the long way home. North, first, to Yelm (Washington), and then east along mountain roads. Yelm is as tiny of a town as you'll find. It also is the current residence of one Terina Jex Holmes, a friend and sister missionary with me back in good ol' Bordeaux. The problem with visiting Terina is she reminds me how bad my early Alzheimer's has become. For example, she reminders everything whereas I remember nothing.

We looked through her mission scrapbook, at photos of missionaries and members, investigators, villages, cathedrals, rivers, towns. It was a nice stroll down memory lane and the things I had forgotten she was quick to remind me of. Terina is as entertaining as ever, happy to point out the elders who were particularly unpleasant, her desire to strangle them seemingly as fresh as it had been 8+ years ago. Suffice to say, I laughed a lot.

I said goodbye to Terina and her two cute children and began the long, long, long drive back to Utah. At least there were forest and lakes and viewpoints for the first half. I grabbed a hotel at the border of Washington and Oregon and then drove the longer, uglier way through east Oregon and Idaho. I stopped at Shoshone Falls again and hiked along the canyon, eating fresh cherries, before the final stretch. Then a cop pulled me over for going 66 in a 55 zone. I had hoped to get through the trip without a ticket...and I did. Granted, I told him I was speeding because I had to use the restroom, which wasn't totally true. But dammit, it worked. He said, "this one's on me," and off I went.

It's good to be home. I know it'll only be a matter of days before I go stir-crazy again (the curse of unemployment) but for now I have scratched that itch. Despite all the beauty I saw in the PNW, when the Wasatch mountains came into view on the I-84, I felt strangely grateful. These are my mountains. I've hiked them, boated their lakes, and I see them filling the skyline every morning out my window. I gotta say, they're great.

Trip Stats:
• driving total - 2,200 miles (40+ hours)
• hiking total - at least 20 miles
• hostels endured - 3
• hostels that were haunted - 1
• waterfalls viewed - so many
• podcasts listened to - 30+
• hitchhikers - 1 picked up, 1 passed on account of large holes in his sweatpants

Pacific Northwest - Day 6

I've decided to alter my plans. The Hoh Rainforest in Olympic National Park, the place I thought would be my next destination is 5 hours from Seaside, making the inevitable trip home even longer. I don't think I can face that much driving. My little car does not have cruise control and my right foot is angry with me. Sorry rainforest.

So Instead, I drove around the northern tip of Oregon, crossed the river back into Washington, and headed east towards Mount Saint Helens.

Ape Cave is a lava tube formed long ago by Helens' eruptions. I've been in a lot of caves (spent a night in one in college) and have walked through a lava tube in Hawaii so Ape Cave wasn't a totally new experience. But it was still pretty cool. Wish I had brought a better flashlight instead of the tiny, half dead one I found in my glove box. The weak light made things a bit slow going, but every once in a while someone would walk by with a lantern and I'd leech off their light for a bit. Much of the time I didn't hear or see anything but the dripping of water from the ceiling and the scraping of my shoes on the rock. I kept thinking of the movie, “The Descent,” and the cave creatures. With a little bit of stage makeup, some false teeth, and a practiced lurch, someone could have a lot of fun down there.

And here's a photo of the entrance. And that's all for now.

Pacific Northwest - Day 5

I picked up a hitchhiker on the highway south of Seaside. "Did you pass me yesterday?," he asked, as he settled into the passenger seat. "I remember this little blue car." He was right, I had passed him, but was on my way to the hostel and couldn't stop. This time I did.

We exchanged names, but I forgot his a minute after he told me (as I am wont to do). He looked to be in his late thirties, unshaven, and not exactly smelling of flowers. As we drove down the highway he noticed my bags and clothes strewn about the back seat. "What's your journey?" he asked. I told him and he told me he was headed to Northern California to try and study Botany. For a while we talked about plants. Then about the towns we passed between stretches of wet, green forest and the ocean.

"How long does it usually take?" I asked him. "Before a car will pick you up, I mean."
"Sometimes right away. Sometimes as much as a day or two." He said.

I dropped him off at Pacific City, an hour or so later. As he got out into the drizzling rain, I handed him a twenty. "I could use this," he said. "God bless you."

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It kept raining. I sat in a parking lot at Cape Kiwanda hoping it would let up. The wind was strong and waves were crashing against the shore. A large sand dune led to the top of the cape. My friend Jessi had told me I needed to hike to the top, that the view was straight out of a postcard. It kept raining. Sorry, Jessi.

I headed north again, taking the route off the highway, nearest the shore. There was a turn off near another cape with some hiking trails. I put on my jacket, pulled up my hood, and started the 5 mile hike in spite of the rain. As soon as I entered the forest along the cape, I was blanketed in fog. The tall, mossy trees kept the rain mostly in check, and I could hear the surf breaking against the cliff, but couldn't see it. About a mile in, the trail reached the rim of the cliff, and the fog suddenly let up and I sucked in my breath. The ocean was a jewel, frothing along the cove a couple hundred feet below. I kept my eyes on it, tramping through mud and puddles before the trees closed up like a velvet green curtain with the occasional torn patch offering peeks. The trail finally ended at the edge of the cape, dropping off sharply to the water, seagulls circling far below. The wind was howling. I edged my way under the safety barrier, out onto the end of the rocks. It felt a little like falling, with the wind full force against my face and arms. I gripped the rock and clenched my teeth. I was scared sick. That's why I did it.
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Not only is Tillamook awesome because of the cheese, the city isn't so bad either. I can't imagine what it'd be like to live there, or any of the surrounding towns. I guess all the amazing forest and coastline would become mundane after a while, but it certainty wasn't to me. I took the Tillamook Cheese factory tour and enjoyed a bunch of free samples. Extra Sharp Chedder = yes.

Next stop was Canon Beach, best known for Haystack Rock – a giant monolith just off the shore with tide pools leading up to it. I saw a lot of rocks like this on my drive, but one so up close, beautiful and towering... double yes.

I'm staying at the Seaside hostel again for tonight. I strolled the boardwalk at sunset which was bustling with people. There were swing sets right on the beach. Swing sets on the beach! Triple yes.

And I'm beat. Goodnight blog.

Pacific Northwest - Day 4

It was in the downpour and the drizzle that I did my best to navigate the streets of Portland. I hear the public transportation system is great there, and I suppose it would have to be with all the one-way streets and severely limited parking. Sick of the car, I spent some time walking downtown and along the waterfront, getting rather soggy, but in good spirits. Highlight of my time was browsing Powell's Books, which fills a whole city block. The place is HUGE and the selection is amazing. I picked up an old edition of a Ray Bradbury short story collection for a few bucks.

I decided not to spend the full day in the city. I figure I'll go back another time and explore it with company. Instead, I headed to Seaside, a small coastal town. Wonderful place. The hostel is set up like a motel, but with multiple bunks per room. It was still cold and rainy, but the beach was great, filled with broken sand dollars and crab shells. Everywhere I stepped, crab shells. They crunch when you step on them in an pleasing, addictive way, much like popping bubble wrap. I couldn't stop crunching them.

I have more I could write, but it's getting late and my roommates are old men who doubtless don't appreciate the clacking of the keys. Tomorrow will be a day of sea towns and beaches. And hopefully cheese.