Chinese steel

I shot this picture on May 11, 2006 in Beijing.

With the Olympic Games beginning on August 8, the Chinese spent many man hours over several years constructing structures, including this one.

The Olympic torch arrived today in Macao, and makes its way to the mainland. Over the next three months, the torch will relay through every Chinese province. I wonder how much of the relay will be on foot, as much of the nation is desolate.

I wonder if my above picture is for an athletic venue or a peripheral lodging structure.

10 great buildings to see in New York

The Associated Press reported yesterday that according to Rick Bell, the head of the Center for Architecture, the Empire State Building is not on his list of "10 great buildings to see in New York."

However, the list "does include the Conde Nast Building in Times Square, which is considered the first green skyscraper; the Apple store in Soho, noted for its glass bridge and staircase; and the Seagram Building, the only design in New York by famed architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe."

Of the Brooklyn Museum, designed by James Stewart Polshek in 2004, Bell admires that the "glass and steel circular structure modernized the museum's imposing 19th century Beaux Arts facade while making it inviting and accessible, a suitable centerpiece for Brooklyn's burgeoning hipster art scene."

Of the Chrysler Building, Bell writes it is "a phenomenal example of Art Deco architecture that is both elegant and fun, from the distinctive tiered crown, easily picked out from the city skyline, to the enormous gargoyles shaped like radiator caps."

Ronald Reagan and Possibilities

Ronald Reagan spoke to the Republican National Convention in 1962. His speech immediately draws me in when he speaks of his long life.

In my life's journey over these past eight decades, I have seen the human race through a period of unparalleled tumult and triumph. I have seen the birth of communism and the death of communism. I have witnessed the bloody futility of two World Wars, Korea, Vietnam and the Persian Gulf. I have seen Germany united, divided and united again. I have seen television grow from a parlor novelty to become the most powerful vehicle of communication in history. As a boy I saw streets filled with Model-Ts; as a man I have met men who walked on the moon.

He goes on to talk about the dangers of living and working under the veil of communism, the threat of nuclear holocaust, and how American might and determination were somehow obstacles to peace. When the Berlin Wall fell and the Cold War was won, Reagan said, the world opened its eyes.

I remember the day the Berlin Wall fell. It was my freshman year of high school, and the entire school sat in the cafeteria and watched the live events unfold on TV. The image of a man holding one of those bricks, and another of one standing on the wall, is etched in my mind.

About two months after Reagan died, I toured his presidential museum. My diary dates the visit on July 17, 2004. I don't remember much, but I thought it ironic the library and museum were situated on the apex of a hill within the community of Simi Valley. I remember placards and display cases and videos about his childhood, and progression through Hollywood movies to governor to president. He had many accomplishments, but I most remember Reagan for privatizing Amtrak and conceptualizing the so-called 'Star Wars' system.

Science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke, in 1962, said, "The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible."

Reagan tried. In his 1992 RNC speech, he said, "Now let's not dismiss our current troubles, but where they see only problems, I see possibilities – as vast and diverse as the American family itself."

How would Clinton and Obama respond?

South Carolina

The Democratic presidential debate airs in the background on CNN, live from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, so I was inspired to dig up an entry I wrote in my travel journal on May 8, 2004...

With posters of John Lee Hooker and Chuck Berry tacked on the deep green walls, you'd think you entered a Beale Street tavern, but Charleston, South Carolina's Sticky Fingers restaurant is no Memphis locale.

Established in 1992 in the suburban town of Mt. Pleasant, people rave about their pulled pork sandwiches and BBQ ribs; a pork and rib combo awaits me at 2:30 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon on a 90 degree day.

At my mahogany table, one of about 100, my napkin is a heavy cotton rag. I use it to wipe my hands. The pulled pork is chewy and a little dry, while the ribs have a Carolina sauce (BBQ and honey glaze) and easily slide off the bones. The meat comes with baked beans and cole slaw, the latter drowning in mayo. The sour pickle definitely didn't add to the flavors.

The staff seemed overly nice, with three people asking me several times if everything was okay. Maybe I was looking to fault them for what Bon Apetit magazine raved. Maybe because I was writing in my journal?

Wow

What a day!

• After a hearty continental breakfast at the hotel, I left Sherbrooke, Quebec to lightly dusting snow (which weather.com is saying will accumulate 5-8 inches before the end of the night)
  
• I filled up my Subaru with gas at $1.13 a liter (if my math is right with 3.785 liters = 1 gallon and USD$1 = CDN$1.02, the gas came to $4.20 a gallon, which sounds right as it cost about CDN$55).
  
• Drove southeast into a winter storm, with snow the whole way through Quebec's so-called Eastern Townships full of grain silos, Christmas Tree farms, and spotted houses.
  
• Crossed the border about 30 miles northwest of Stratton, Maine (home of the Sugarloaf ski resort). I was asked to remain sitting in my driver's seat while two US customs agents rifled through my suitcase and car, though the irony was when a border patrol officer who heard I lived in Newburyport came out and said his cousin was a Nbpt minister (who I happen to know).
  
• Hit traffic on Route 27 as I passed Sugarloaf.
  
• Didn't see the end of the traffic until I crossed the Maine-New Hampshire border, which lasted some 5-6 hours amid a winter storm warning that will dump some 12 inches of snow before the night ends.
  
• Due to the treacherous driving when speeds were reduced from 65 to 35, I lost control at one point and spun out a complete 180, watching my Subaru tail go WHAM! against the median's snowbank. Luckily, no damage but it took about 15 minutes to maneuver myself to do a 3-point-turn in the middle of the highway.
  

I'm home now, relaxing in my pajamas. I just took a hot shower and will be asleep by 9.

Alone on NYE... but not lonely

It is less than four hours before the clock strikes 00:01 and the year 2008 begins, and I couldn't care less.

In years past, I celebrated the new year by attending parties with friends, wore cone hats and blew bazookas, ate bruschetta and mini hot dogs, and drank champagne.

If you remove the social element, take away the party garb, and neither eat nor drink, what's the big deal? It's a new year, no different than a new month or a new day. I'm happy when new days occur; I part the curtains, see the sun shining, and smile that it's beautiful outside.

Why make an issue out of a new year? Moreover, why do my so-called friends make an issue out of me preferring to spend this weekend roadtripping alone? I may appear to be alone, but I'm not lonely.

...

In a future entry, I'll write more about Montreal, where I stopped for lunch today.

I'm now in Sherbrooke, a much larger city that I imagined, and am about to head downstairs to the hotel's restaurant with my journal to sit at a table and eat my last meal of the year alone and write about how I am so tired from today's events that loneliness is the last thing on my mind.

Pre-food thoughts

I fell asleep for 45 minutes. I'm still exhausted, but hungry so am about to hop in a hot shower to freshen up then walk with my camera to the Byward Market to find a restaurant that strikes my fancy. The Hard Rock Cafe is in that public market area, but I'm feeling more partial to something I can't find in Boston.

I need to sleep more tonight than last night, though. Last night, at the casino, I sat at the poker table for about four hours, playing $2-4 Texas Holdem and wound up walking away with a small profit. Had fun, though, and watched the Patriots win from a room that was clearly split in its allegiance... to the extent that today's Oneida, New York newspaper had a front page headline of the Patriots' win and interviews with local residents who rooted for the Pats. (It goes to show that just because one is a New York resident doesn't mean they root for the Giants.)

But because I went to sleep at 1 a.m., I only slept about 7 hours. And I made few stops; only for lunch at a diner in Canton and then was stopped for about 15 minutes by a Canadian customs agent.

Typical questions by the agent: Why are you traveling alone? Where are you going? Do you have a reservation? Do you have friends in the area? What do you do for work? It wasn't a "welcome to Canada, have a nice trip" 30-second speech that I received the last time I visited the country, but it's been a few years and security is tighter so I'd rather be asked questions and forced to wait then be rushed into their country. Still, it was nerve racking...

Tomorrow's drive to Sherbrooke will last about 200 miles, but unlike today's trip on county roads, tomorrow's drive will be on provincial roads (or, the difference between orange- and red-colored atlas roads versus blue- and black-colored roads).

Highlights of today's drive through rural upstate New York included sights of hundreds of grain silos, dozens of Methodist churches, and numerous ski slopes. I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

(On a side note: I brought my laptop; the first time in my roadtripping history that I brought a laptop around to take advantage of complimentary WiFi in hotel rooms. It forces me to write on this blog when the mood strikes, and allows me to share with people what I'm feeling and doing, if even in brevity.)

Ottawa

I checked into the downtown Ottawa Days Inn an hour ago, and immediately hooked up to the free Internet connection to make a reservation for tomorrow night. I knew I'd stay in Sherbrooke, which gives the appearance of an anglophiled college town not far from the Vermont and Maine borders, and positive reviews on Trip Advisor and Virtual Tourist confirmed my pending reservation at the Delta Sherbrooke.

So, I'll sleep at the Delta, eat dinner somewhere lively, and check out the collegiate club, Le Living. Maybe meet a French Canadian lass.

But for tonight, I'll explore Ottawa. I'd been here six years ago, but briefly for a photo shoot on Parliament Hill, a stroll through the artistic National Gallery, and a visit to the National Aviation Museum. I didn't stay here, and despite my tiredness from a long day's of driving, I'm eager to soak up the nightlife.

Flatware and me

Some 350 miles after leaving Newburyport earlier this afternoon, I checked into a Super 8 motel into the so-called flatware capital of the world. That is, if the Oneida brand name is considered the best in forks, knives, and spoons. If tomorrow wasn't a Sunday, I'd consider seeing if they offered factory tours.

Albeit night, Oneida, New York seems to be a quiet city. I'm about to take off for the Turning Stone Casino, five miles northeast, which I passed to find this motel. I'll eat dinner, play some poker, and watch the Pats-Giants game which allegedly started a few minutes ago.

Tomorrow morning, after spending some time in Canton, NY, I'll cross the border somewhere and head to Ottawa. In 2001, I only visited Parliament Hill briefly but never slept the night. I just made a reservation for a Days Inn in downtown Ottawa, so I'll see what it's like to spend the last Sunday of the year in Canada's capital city.

Marcus

Everything that happens,
happens as it should,
and if you observe carefully,
you will find this to be so.
- Marcus Aurelius


My last solo roadtrip occurred during Labor Day weekend of 2005. I borrowed a friend's tent, tarp, and axe, and bought assorted gear and embarked on a 4-night camping trip to New Brunswick, including two nights at a Fundy National Park campground. Man, that was fun!

It's time for a refresher, so tomorrow afternoon I'll make my way up to the hinterlands of northwestern Maine to visit the town of Canton. I haven't seen the town named after my hometown (due to Maine's breaking off from being Massachuetts' territory) in three years, and even then it was brief after dusk.

Visiting Canton will only be the beginning of this serendipitous New Years weekend. It's not my fault friends don't want to join me. I'll still have fun meeting new people, sightseeing and taking pictures, and catching up on some pleasure reading, too.

I'll also plan to return to Quebec City, where I haven't visited since 2001. I might also make it to Ottawa. Or, I'll double south and head to New York's Adirondacks to visit a new Canton on my list.

I don't know where I'll sleep each night, and I don't know what I'll do each day. That's the nature of vacilando and it's precisely how Marcus Aurelius says it ought to be.

Vacilando

I wrote about the Spanish concept of vacilando in this May 2007 post.

As New Years weekend nears to a bang, I am at a crossroads of emotions. For about three weeks, I'd planned to visit Quebec City. But that assumed a friend could join me for the trip. She just bailed. So, due to a combination of my friends either being unavailable this weekend or being unable to take off January 1st which is a paid holiday for me, and also due to the quainter B&Bs in the Old City being booked this weekend (for obvious reasons), I'm thinking of holding off on Quebec City until later in the year.

The reason I was aiming for QC in the first place was learning that 2008 will be the 400th anniversary of the city's founding. I hadn't visited it since 2001, so felt like returning to one of my top 3 favorite locations from that Great American Roadtrip. (The other two sites being San Diego and the general Black Hills of South Dakota, both of which are much father than Quebec.)

So, if not Quebec City, where? I suppose I could be vacilando and just go. The journey is more important than the destination, and knowing I just want to escape this weekend, should it matter that this is New Years weekend? Or treat it like any other extended weekend that I have off from work?

Israeli pics are up

I uploaded about 20 percent of my 600+ Israeli pictures to this Flickr set.

Other pictures, which I'm purposefully not making public due to other people shown, are on a shared Picasa server.

Among my favorites are:

A rose by any other name in Haifa.


Trinkets in Jerusalem's Arab marketplace.


The sun's halo from Masada.


A foray into rock music photography, with the guitarist of Ethnix at a private show.


The Dan Hotel in Tel Aviv, with the beach facade designed by famous artist Yaakov Agam.

Jet lag

I hardly experienced it upon arrival in Israel, so jet lag caught up to me.

It's 5:15 in the morning and I'm mildly tired, but not enough to sleep. I slept about eight hours Friday night, and napped about two more hours on Saturday. On the flight, I slept about four hours, and dozed another seven or eight hours since landing.

It's fair to say my circadian rhythm clock rode a roller coaster since takeoff 30 hours ago (not including the time shift).

Food-wise, I ate on the flight and nibbled snacks in New York. Since arrival in Boston some 18 hours ago, I ate half a sandwich and fried some egg whites. I'm hungry, but not enough to eat.

Oh, and my luggage arrived at 4:45.

Airport chaos

Thirteen hours after landing in Boston and reporting two lost bags, I just received a midnight call from Jetblue that my suitcases will arrive in the next two to three hours. Eeek!

I requested they call me again upon arrival, so the suitcases aren't sitting on my front porch until I awake. (My roommates wouldn't notice anything on the porch, I'm sure, as one of my roommates just knocked on my door to tell me something without having the goodness to say "Welcome back" or "Hope you had a safe flight.")

The El Al flight from Tel Aviv to New York was successful, and I managed to zonk out about 4-5 hours. Judging from the online map, I slept from around Copenhagen to Iceland, and again around Newfoundland.

After arriving at JFK Airport, things got crazy.

The customs line through passport control flowed smoothly for the approximate 15 people in my group, but our luggage took forever to slide down the concourse chute. After riding the monorail from Terminal 4 to Terminal 6, I saw hundreds of people standing in an outdoor snaking line and in dozens of haphazard indoor lines, all with Jetblue boarding passes in hand and waiting to check their bags.

Sadly, I lacked the know-how to push my way to the front until it was too late. So, I was bumped to the next flight, two hours later.

I had a confirmed seat, though, which was also the case for Matt. Rich, Amy, and Meggan had standby seats and managed to get on board. Karen, Julie, and Michelle couldn't get seats, so they remained on standby. Everyone else in our group either found alternative airlines or rented cars to drive to Boston.

It was hellish.

Once in Boston, my suitcases weren't there. It seems JFK had a conveyor belt problem, or maybe it was a Jetblue problem, but suffice to say none of our bags made it on that flight.

Considering the next inbound flight from JFK to Logan was at 2pm, and I just got the call at midnight, I wonder when my bags were flown.

If I was employed, I'd be calling in sick on Monday. My metabolics are screwed, so off to sleep.

Views

With a fast Internet connection at my cousins' home in the Pisgat Ze'ev neighborhood of north Jerusalem, I figured I'd share a few images of the promised land.

First up is a view of the Baha'i shrine in Haifa. The 5 million global members of the Baha'i comprise the world's second largest religious faith. Notice the lush green vegetation that grows on the hill. I didn't visit the shrine, but we did see it from both below and above.


About halfway between Haifa and Tel Aviv, Herod the Great built Caesarea around 25 B.C. These columns represent a structure that existed in this maritime historical park.


Viewed from the peak of Mount Scopus, where we promptly recited the Kiddish and recited the Shehecheyanu upon arrival in Jerusalem, and before checking in at the hotel. The Dome of the Rock shines mightily in the summer heat.


We are readying for Shabbat, with sundown in some four hours. My cousin Matat with her husband and three kids are here now, and two non-family members are also going to stay over. I can already hear the noise from the kids. Still, it's more peaceful than the whirlwind of the past two weeks.

Jews, Jews, Jews!

You don't recognize it in the United States due to the approximate 2 percent Jewish population, but almost 50 percent of the 5 million-strong Israeli population is Jewish so you see Jews everywhere.

From the pedestrian markets along Jerusalem's Ben Yehuda Street and Tel Aviv's Rothchild Street, to the villages in northern and southern Israel, everyone speaks Hebrew, from the taxi drivers to the shopkeepers to the police.

I'm thinking of taking up a Hebrew language class, so I can really learn how to converse in the mother tongue. I also want to come back here, and much sooner than another 22 years.

In fact, I've been chatting with some other Bostonians on my trip, and we're tempted to return to Israel for a 4-month program with the Israeli Army, going through the bootcamp and better appreciating what it means to serve in the Army. Granted, I wouldn't want to do that now, with the conflict as it is, but I would like to return to the land of milk and honey in some context.

I hear of the Arab-Israeli conflict, but I don't see it. I see it on CNN and Fox News, but even those images are only one-sided. I've sat in on briefings over the past week, listening to a former consul general to New York, the Ethiopian National Project, the Jewish Agency For Israel, and an Israeli think tank.

The Bush Administration, while not mentioned specifically, is implied to be a major obstacle for mideast peace. Bush doesn't want Israel to enter negotiation talks with Syria, because Washington considers Damascus a terror threat. And Israel listens, because the U.S. is it's big brother. Still, insiders wish the talks to occur.

Syria is a small bit of the Arab world. I've heard that every Arab nation, to one degree or another, is interested in pursuing peace talks with Israel. These talks won't happen anytime soon, though. Of utmost concern is Iran and it's alleged nuclear bomb. Would Iran use it to destroy Israel? It's possible... but they'd be killing themselves too. Is Iran that neurotic? The Arab league wants to stop Iran from using the bomb. In this sense, Arabs and Jews stand united against the Shah.

It's an odd world we live in. Strange bedfellows one moment, enemies the next. Yesterday, a UJC bus from San Diego who was visiting its sister city near the Gaza Strip was caught in crossfire. Nobody was hurt, and the IDF was unaware of the pending missile or the bus wouldn't have been there. It spread like wildfire last night at our luxurious Hilton Hotel in Tel Aviv.

Today, we explored the ancient alleys of Jaffa and the modern boulevards of downtown Tel Aviv. We sang Hatikva in sync with a 1948 recording when David Ben-Gurion read the United Nations proclamation for a new state. Tel Aviv is like any other cosmopolitan city in the world, but everyone is Jewish. It's surreal.

Half of my new Boston friends fly back to New York tonight. Another group heads out to Eilat, one girl will stay here, and I'll go back to Jerusalem. On Sunday, about a dozen of us will fly to New York together and share our stories.

I am proud to be a Jew, and I am beginning to realize how to make a name for myself.

Disobedience

Tell a child not to do something, and the child will usually disobey. Adults are no different.

Yesterday afternoon, during 30 minutes of free time within an area of the Jewish Quarter in Jerusalem's Old City, our tour guide repeatedly told us not to enter the Arab marketplace. So, a bunch of us entered.

Granted, I and six other Boston young adults were joined by our plainclothes security guard, but we still disobeyed.

A similar occurrence occurred a few hours ago, when Jim (a co-traveler in my Boston group) rode with me in a taxi from the hotel to the Jaffa Gate. Earlier, we were advised by the UJC staffers not to enter the Muslim Quarter (which along with the Jewish, Christian, and Armenian Quarters comprise the Old City)...so Jim and I walked through the Muslim Quarter.

Today is the Sabbath, and most Jews are home with their families. The Arabs, though, are out in force, whether driving taxicabs or selling wares. Like other urban pedestrian malls, the Arab vendors (who may be Christian, Armenian, or Muslim) are confined to either enclosed "stalls" or spread their items on sidewalks.

Maybe it's the places we've traveled, but I've seen few signs of homelessness in Jerusalem. Yes, I saw old men and women asking for Tzedakah last night at the Kotel, and today by the gates and intersections of the streets I walked, but I also saw numerous Israeli Defense Force soldiers and border police officers, so perhaps the cavalry scare the homeless away, just like any other urban city.

Bittersweetness

Jerusalem: 7:45 p.m.

I laid my forehead against the exposed stone wall of the Kotel and wept.

Known throughout the Jewish world as the holiest remains from the Roman destruction of the Second Temple thousands of years ago, I hadn't visited the Wall since my last trip to Israel in 1985.

Life was different 22 years ago, but in particular I was at the Wall with Dad. I don't remember much of that 1985 trip, but I do remember seeing the Wall, witnessing the Orthodox men reciting silent prayers, and stuffing notes of paper into the stone crevices.

I remember writing something all those years ago and stuffing it in the crevice. Somewhere, I am sure the weather of time kept my scrawled note.

I wrote a new note tonight, in the hours before sunrise and the beginning of Shabbat. I pushed my finger, holding the note, into a crevice with other notes from other Jews from around the world.

I cried, thinking of Dad and all the other people from my life who have died over the past 22 years. I stood there, motionless, for what seemed like many minutes.

Four days ago, as we landed in Tel Aviv, my Bostonian friends and me were told that sometime during our trip we would feel Israel calling us, we would feel something profound. I heard God's cries...and I joined in the tears.

From Jerusalem with love

Jerusalem: 3:00 p.m.

Each day is comprises a whirlwind of activity, so despite sleeping an average of five hours each night, we are exhausted and are continually nodding off on the bus.

As we have under two hours to recuperate between this morning's walking tour of various locales around the Dome of the Rock, and tonight's pending Kabbalat Shabbat ceremony at the Kotel, I figured I'd check my email real quick and say hi to anyone reading this.

Since landing in Israel, we've experienced a heat wave. I have yet to see a cloud in the sky. It's been blisteringly hot, with temperatures in the high 80s, if not the 90s. We are always drinking water.

Food-wise, I am gaining *some* weight, especially due to pitas full of falafel and humus, or shawarmam, olives, or other salad spreads. I am also seeing a lot of foods, from the lavish spreads during hotel mealtimes or during outside restaurants. Today was a potpourri of sensory overload, complete with historical narrative at King David's palace; roaming through the Arab Quarter; and a quick jaunt through a Jewish outdoor plaza as families buy food for Shabbat.

As two or three people of the 300 UJA participants are waiting to use the three Internet terminals, I'll write more later...

Sleep calls

An impromptu drive to CVS to pick up stuff I forgot to get earlier, and I'm ready for sleep.

I never made it to the gym or to Jude's, but I spent the time packing my suitcase... until I realized it wasn't going to fit, so I emptied the suitcase, and put my shoes and sandals and various other clunkers (suntan lotion, small baggie items, toiletry bag, a jar of peanuts for the bus) in a small bag that I'll check with the suitcase.

Last year, when I visited China, I checked a similar-sized suitcase and that red bag. I separately have a small backpack for day trips.

Oh, and despite having three sets of rechargeable batteries (for my digital camera), I'm bringing along the charger. At the airport, I'll buy a power converter. I'm also bringing my camera's USB connector, in case I feel like uploading some pics.

A co-traveler is picking me up in 7 hours. Time for bed!