Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts

Friday, October 17, 2014

No Beach, No Cocktail, Then it Must be China

Visiting China is a many layered cultural immersion.  It is not a vacation.  I've drawn this distinction in the past - there are vacations (lolling on the beach, cocktails, cabanas) and then there are trips (National parks, rafting, Europe, - anything that involves learning and thinking beyond whether I want to swim in the pool or the ocean.) China is a trip and I mean in that in all of it's layered meaning.

When you arrive, you hit the ground running and you don't stop until crawling into bed for the day. Our first tour day began with a western breakfast at the hotel (and thank goodness for them - I'll explain in another post) and BAM we were headed to Tianenman Square followed by the Forbidden City, The Summer Palace of the Dragon Lady and finally, the Pearl Market before heading back to the hotel with enough time to change, go to dinner and then to the Peking Opera. To sum up the sights, all I can say is 1987 Student Uprising is not a topic of discussion and watch The Last Emperor (you will see the Forbidden city AND get a feel for the Dragon Lady).  What I really want to tell you is about the Opera because THAT was a trip.

We had VIP seating which meant we had a table upfront and we were served snacks and beer.  Our tour guide told us the opera was an old tradition and truly a cultural experience.  Then , he said he'd meet us at the door when it was over. . .he wasn't staying and now I know why.  Our opera was made up of 3 stories that had nothing to do with each other.  There was, for clarity, an electronic sign on one side of the stage that ran the dialogue and song (and I use that term loosely) in English and Chinese.  The second story, perhaps the most memorable was about a girl trying to catch up to her lover who was on a boat going down the river.  She hires a man of questionable character to taker her down the river after him and then spends 10 minutes singing, screaming and yelling for him to go faster so she can catch her lover.  That's it.  That and the instrumental.  Between the music and singing, I felt like this assault on my ears was akin to watching what happens in my brain when too many glasses of wine produce a hangover.  Here is a Link - you only need to watch the first minute - minute and a half to get the idea. It is no wonder our guide decided to find something else to do while we enjoyed the cultural experience.

Having a guide is beneficial for a number of reasons but, his ability to tell us in-depth history was a boon. . .until we realized not everything he (not just him - other guides we had, too) said seemed to stand to reason. It first occurred on our tour through a historic Hutong - a neighborhood that has remained untouched and is now preserved.  We walked past a charming mail box and he stopped us and said, "That is the oldest post box in China."  Many of us drank the koolaid but Moondoggy looked at the box and pointed to where above the slot it said LETTER in English, "But John," he said, "It says 'Letter'." To which our tour guide quickly changed the subject.

In Xian we saw the famous Terra Cotta Warriors.  There is nothing I can say to describe the magnitude of these clay men.  There are thousands.  They all have different faces.  It is simply overwhelming.  Our guide in Xian (along with John) was CiCi.  CiCi lived in Xian all of her life and was eager to share her city.  On the way to the warriors she told us the story of their discovery:

A farmer was digging a well when at about six feet down, he unearthed a head.  He thought he had dug up the devil and he was frightened.  So, he called the government knowing they would know what to do.  And they did.  They moved him out and built him a new home and started excavating. . . then, because this farmer now had nothing to do. . .they gave him a job. 


He is at the gift shop everyday to meet people (but no pictures unless you pay) and autograph a book about the warriors and their history.  So, we met the farmer and bought the book and had him sign it.  I mean, how many times do you get THAT opportunity?  We even bought the new updated version.  We know this because there was a yellow burst in the upper left hand corner that said "NEW".

Days later as we cruised the Yangtze River, we took an excursion up stream on the Shennong.  It was beautiful, hilly, lush and green.  Monkeys scurried along the river's edge and farmers worked their land.  There were soaring cliffs and caves along the route and high in the crags from time to time were coffins - yes the kind that hold dead people.  These coffins were perched in the crags balanced on two pieces of bamboo.  They were, our guide said, two thousand years old.  Well, looking at the coffins and the bamboo supporting them, it just didn't stand to reason so Moondoggy asked, "So those coffins have been up there for 2000 years?"  The stream guide replied, "They weigh 500 pounds and have been up there for 2000 years.   No one knows how they got them up there but it is believed being up there allowed them to be closer to God."  Which is another interesting anomaly because most Chinese are Buddhist or Taoists so. . . .  There is a picture attached of the coffin.  I'll let you be the judge - does it look like it has survived 2000 years of time, weather and seismic movement?

When we returned home, we got together with our neighbors, who had been to China in the early 2000s, to compare the experience.  At one point, during a discussion of the Terra Cotta Warriors, our neighbor disappeared and returned with a book she bought and yep. that's right, had signed by the farmer who discovered the first warrior.  

Her book, too, had the yellow burst in the upper left hand corner and the word "NEW" splashed across it.  Moreover, when we compared signatures - they were different.  Makes me wonder how many "farmers" they have and how many shifts of autograph sessions they hold? 

Because this was a trip and not a vacation (remember - no beach and no cocktail) what did I learn?  Don't believe anything you hear and only half of what you see.


Saturday, September 8, 2012

And You Thought The GPS Was For Following


It’s an old joke, men and their refusal to ask directions, their insistence that they know a “shortcut’ and the inevitable time lost in the process of saving time.  Then, along came the GPS.  I really thought the macho bravado of driving would change with an electronic toy doing the hard work.  How dumb am I?

Our GPS does not have a pleasantly accented male or female voice to guide us.  Our GPS has Lois, a no nonsense kinda gal.  She gives the direction and expects you to follow. . .I think Lois was once a third grade teacher.  She does not hide her disdain when announcing that she is “recalculating” in response to something my man, Moondoggy, has done.

It wasn’t until this summer while driving to the east coast that I realized the love/hate relationship that exists between Moondoggy and Lois.  All packed up, we hopped in the car and pulled out of the driveway when Moondoogy announces, ‘I think I’m going to skip her direction to take I-90 and take I-88 instead.”  Not even out of the driveway, he thinks Lois is wrong and she is pissed off. . .you can hear it in her voice.  Luckily there aren’t many options for getting to our stop for the night so she recalculated and the tension eased.  Lois knows how to pick her battles.

The next morning, Moondoggy announces with pride, “I think I’m going to follow her directions today and see where she takes us.  According to Lois, our drive time is going to be 8 hours with an arrival time of 5:15 p.m.” Me?  No comment.  And, here’s why.   Not twenty minutes later, Moondoggy says, “She is taking us through Breezewood which will take us around DC.  The traffic will be hell.  I’m not doing that.”  And with the intrepidity of Magellan and a slight smug sneer, Moondoggy deviates from Lois’ prescribed route.  We followed some very hilly country road that meandered through Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia and Virginia.  I admit, it was beautiful and there was very little traffic, but the 2 hours we spent listening to an increasingly irritated Lois as she tried to guide us back onto the interstate was beyond livable.  But, does he turn it off?  No.  Why?  Because now he is WINNING and he is going to challenge her to find a way to our destination from this new path.  He’s on a roll and the game is on.

She wants us to be on I-95.  We are taking 17.  She wants us to get on I-64 in Richmond.  We stayed on 17.  She wants us to get off on Indian River Blvd.  We got off on Independence Rd.  The whole way Lois is recalculating and Moondoggy is snickering. . .he is winning.  

Finally, we took the now familiar route to the beach house. . . arriving in the driveway at exactly, you guessed it. . ..
5:15 p.m.   

So, who won?

On another note. . .

My next book has just gone to the editor.  I am aiming for a December release. The cover art is ready though.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

I would love to start this with some grand story about my intrepid escapades this summer.  Perhaps the thrill of cruising on an airboat through the wetlands and weeds of the Florida swamps in search of gators in weather so hot, I was never completely dry.  Yeah, I did that.  It was fun.  And yes, there were more alligators than I could count.

Or, learning that 50 means I'm not so good with the upsidedown, twisty roller coasters anymore.  Ask the ride operators at Universal Studios, they can explain.  But, if you were there, stuck in line on the Harry Potter flying experience and they announced over the loud speaker that the ride was "temporarily out of service" - well, it's probably my fault.  Sorry about that.

Or, I could tell you about the day I received a text message from Casey Anthony asking to hide out with me on vacation.  I almost had my phone shut down before realizing that it was a BAD joke from a friend who NEVER, EVER texts but knew I was in Florida.  Ha! Funny stuff Steph.

But, while all of that HAS happened, I've really spent the bulk of my summer sitting on my ever expanding butt, finishing my book, going through edits, and getting it ready for publishing.  And that day came (last Monday).  It's available in paperback on my website with a 20% coupon code available there.  It is also available on Kindle and Nook for $4.99 (links on my site).  Amazon and BN.com will pick it up in a few weeks.

There is still some summer left, so what do I do now?  I'm taking suggestions.  Anyone?
http://www.judicoltman.com

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Life's a Beach

I recently returned from the best vacation spot I have ever known.  The beach.  Not a drinkable blue Caribbean beach, or a sugar white sand Florida beach or even a palm tree dotted Hawaiian beach.  My beach, the beach to which I have faithfully always returned is Sandbridge in the southernmost coastal tip of Virginia.  I've been going there since I was 8 years old, sharing a week with 4 other girls, all of whom are as close as sisters, and our parents.

This year, my father celebrated his 75th birthday by inviting extended family as well as his own childhood friends to stay in a mammoth house on the beach.  What began in 1968 as 4 adults and 5 girls has, over the years ballooned into Twenty-two what with spouses and children and all.  That plus the additional family and friends turned into thirty-three this summer; an interesting mix of ages, personalities and politics.

Politics.  Let's just say that a lot of "tea" seemed the popular topic.  You'd recognize me at these points in the day because I was the one trying to bury myself in the sand.  No, my idea of vacation includes very little political brain exercise - especially when the topic is Newt (For which my father proudly shares his nickname) Gingerich.  The only Ginger rich things I was interested in was the delectable bread that one of the guests brought with her ( 12 loaves!)

Our oldest guest was hovering around 80 years old while the youngest, a set of twins were going to be 8 years old soon.  It is safe to say that in our house the majority of guests were mid 70's.  This house had a pool which, for hardy beach girls like myself, is a whimps way to swim.  I mean where is the challenge in a pool?  There are no waves to negotiate, no jellyfish to avoid, crabs to step on or dolphins to chase (nor are there any cute boys to discover, oogle and fantasize about.)  On the first morning at the beach, one of the young twins stood by the pool gate shaking his head.  "Why do we have a pool at the beach?" he asked.  I had to tell him the truth, "It's for the old people.  This house is FULL of old people and you know what THAT means."  He dramatically rolled his eyes and replied, "I sure do!  It means I havta stay off their lawns!"

Considering the political climate of the group we were spending the week with, I think the 8 year olds advice was probably the wisest.