A Whole Wheel of Cheese

Yes, that's right! Someone overheard my incessant complaining about a lack of cheese in my town of Hanzhong and suggested I visit cheeseinchina.com, a site about cheese in...tun tun TUN...China. It's a small operation that makes Gouda from old Dutch recipes (hopefully drug-free) and using only organic blah blah blah milk from happy not-from-California Chinese cows

They don't have a distributor in my town so I will make the 4-hour trip north to Xi'an next Monday to meet with the distributor up there and buy a small wheel of plain Gouda and a small wheel of some other type. I'm also going to take advantage and buy some mustard and olives, which I've been unable to find here (It's terrible when you find yourself making a delicious pasta salad but are missing cheese, olives, and mustard! No emulsifier= bad vinaigrette!!)

On another exciting food note: after 4 weeks I was finally able to find non-sweet bread!!! It's been so disappointing going out and buying a loaf of sliced bread, getting the cheese (okay, we have cheese here but it's like a crappy version of American cheese) and ham out, making a sandwich and gagging at the first bite when I realize the bread is SWEET. Well, I finally found a store that sells baguettes and they're actually pretty good.

Next week I feast on real cheese and real bread!

Best Plane Ride...Ever?

Since my flight from Peru, every flight has had an increasing number of Asians. Lima-Miami had none. Miami-San Francisco had a couple. San Francisco-Chicago had a few. Chicago-London had a handful. London-Hong Kong had a solid majority. Hong Kong-Beijing had a super-majority. On Beijing-Xian I was one of two non-Chinese. And, finally, on the Xian-Hanzhong flight I was the only non-Chinese. This final plane ride was something!

First of all, the plane was of a brand I'd never heard of, which is not great when you're talking about planes--you want a trusted brand: a Boeing; an Embraer; an Airbus. Sencondly, the plane reminded me of the one Indiana Jones jumps out of near the beginning of Temple of Doom. No animals, but everything else was too reminiscent. There were only 16 passengers total, if that helps you picture my scenario. I didn't feel as unsafe as the time AA put me on a turboprop from San Diego to Los Angeles, but it was close (I think the Goose and The Stranger were on this flight...maybe The Rock as well).

By far the most entertaining part was that there was only one flight attendant and because I was there she had to translate everything into English. I swear to you the only things I could make out during a total of two minutes of English speaking were "Ladies and" and "Thank you." I badly wanted to tell her I didn't need let alone want a translation but my Chinese was worse than her English.

And, unlike most other airlines, on Chinese ones I can check in 2 bags and maybe more if I ask. Plus, they aren't stingy on giving you food: a meal and three drink services on the 1.5h Beijing-Xian flight! Now that's what I call service! SL

The Peking Hustle, Parts I & II

Two full days spent in Beijing and I feel as if I saw nothing. Probably because I didn't. I arrived on Wednesday night 11ish, peeved at my crappy luck with flights and cabbies. After registering at the hostel I walked into the bar, sat by myself in a corner table and ordered a Tsing Tao.

Before taking my first sip I noticed some local beer on tap and immediately ordered a half-liter of it. After drinking those two beers I was calm enough to strike up a conversation with some people a few tables away. We drank the night away until five or so and then I went to sleep, dead tired. I deserved the drinks and needed the rest.

I awoke on Thursday at about three or four and after going to the ATM, eating some unknown meat in unfamilar broth I felt I needed to "see" Beijing so walked to Tianamen Square.

Beijing: Initial Impressions

This is totally serious: the first thing I thought upon deplaning was "Wow, there sure are a lot of Chinese people here." Mind you I was dead tired.

I've decided I'm not quite in love with this city, though. Maybe having come from London and Paris affected my standards but Beijing is just too overwhelming in a bad sense: the streets are too wide; the pollution is so bad that the city lies in a permanent haze; the old and unique is being replaced by the new and soulless.

I saw vestiges of that old Beijing but they were mere shadows cowering beneath Soviet-era apartment blocks and pre-Olympic building-frenzy office towers. Plus, this is a city where the Sun has decided it can no longer shine. SL

Peru, Land of Chicken Hearts and Other Edibles

Peru, gastronomic capital of something. I've had the good fortune of having eaten a lot of good food in a lot of places and Peru is definitely near the top. I had earlier written that I had never before eaten as well as I was eating in Buenos Aires and the still holds true...at least as far quality is concerned; ingredients there were top-notch. But Peru is a place where street-food reigns. Street food ingredients are not, let's say, sushi-grade but the flavors are blowing my mind. And the options are astounding.

My motto for Lima is "Eat Little and Eat Often." There are few things worse than being full and wanting a bite of ten more things; that was me yesterday and I seriously considered experimenting with bulimia. You think I joke but I'm totally cereal. Totally. Cereal.

The title refers to the first thing I ate in Peru (in the city of Arequipa). It was meat, it was on a stick, it was over a charcoal grill on the sidewalk: I could say nothing other than "One please." I had no idea what it was but it looked heavenly.

It was actually terrible.

I ate one heart then went around the corner and tried giving the other to a street dog but even he refused. But I continued and ate very well in that city, something I'm continuing in Lima.SL

The Air Up Here

The air up here is unlike any I've ever encountered and I know know the meaning of altitude sickness: Crap! My first stop in Bolivia was the old mining town of Potosi, altitude 4,200m (13,00ft). i arrived at 8am and felt a complete lack of energy almost immediately. I slept until about 1pm and once awake me entire body was comatose and I could not physically get myself out of bed.

It took me about 40 minutes to finally succeed and immediately headed to the kitchen to brew some coca tea. After two cups I felt good enough to take a shower. After a third cup I walked around town with a newly-made Austrian friend but after a few hours the terrible headache and lack of energy returned. Prescription: more coca tea!

Here in La Paz I've had better luck, due mostly to being at only 3,000m. Well, 3,000m where I'm staying; the city is built in a steep valley and the wealthier people live at the base of the valley where oxygen is more plentiful. The valley walls rise steeply from the narrow base and are densely-covered with mud-brick homes that cling to them like bark to a tree. There are portions of the sides that have given way and have left massive scars on this city. Were there homes there at a point in the past? How many more scars will be inflicted upon this city? Do I really care? I just want to breathe. SL

Bolivia: By Bus

The majority of roads are dirt and the buses which ride upon them shake, rattle and frequently roll. One week before arriving in Bolivia a bus rolled, taking with it forty-something lives. On Wednesday the 5th another rolled, claiming only 28 lives. Accidents like these are a weekly occurrence and after spending about 30 hours on them so far, the rate of one accident per week seems miraculous.

But what makes travel in Bolivia nearly impossible is the fact that most buses lack bathrooms. When a 300km trip takes 12-hours and makes one stop max staying hydrated becomes a second priority to not "having to go." On one of my 12-hour rides the only thing that saved me was that one of the buses in front of us became stuck in a creek (yes, busses have to cross creeks-- bridges are only a component of paved roads, which are missing from this terrain). The two-hour wait allowed me--and others- time to relieve ourselves amidst donkeys, frogs, snakes and guitar-playing Argentines.

Our unplanned stop provided opportunity for an enterprising Bolivian (the only one I've come accross) to open his store and sell tins of tuna and corned beef, dusty, room-temperature fizzy drinks of questionable provenance and long-expired crackers. I was starving and purchased the latter two; they quieted my insides and allowed me to fully focus on the terrible ride on the edge of the Andes.

Busses always leave late and one needs to add at least two hours to the expected arrival time to not be disappointed. Hanging electrical harnesses are not to be feared; climate control is still on the drawing board; broken seats (asientos flotantes; lit: floating seats) are not uncommon; the back of the bus is to be avoided because bounces are amplified nine-fold; crying children are to be ignored; and please allow the locals to throw their trash out the window without giving them a belittling Western "Awww don't trash the planet, maaaan" look.  And if the bus gets stuck, PUSH!!! SL

Love/Hate

Bolivia is a country I love and hate at the same time and for the same reasons. I love it because the people are really nice and the food tastes really good. I love it because nothing works properly and there is no desire for personal improvement (personal, economic or otherwise). And I hate it because people are so nice in such conditions!

This is a place of striking constrast: unforgiving poverty set amongst stark and naked natural beauty; the women are built short and round, as if in protest of the sharp Andean peaks in which they live; the environment is among the harshest I've been in yet the people are some of the nicest; the land rebels against the notion of agriculture yet the food is tasty.

Ahhhh, I love you and I hate you. And this is why I will return. SL

In da beginning

The Beginning of the Trek

I left Buenos Aires on Christmas Day which unbeknownst to me was the offical start of the Argentine vacation season. The train station was full of hundreds of 20-30 year old Argentine backpackers headed to the north of the country and then to Bolivia, Peru and maybe even further. Since I left Buenos Aires there have been young Argentines EVERYWHERE, and in huge numbers.

In Bolivia they've been joined by a large numbers of Brazilians as well but nowhere near the numbers of Argies. Europeans have been everywhere in smaller numbers and Americans have been nearly non-existant. Since leaving Buenos Aires I have come across 6. Six out of about 1,000 people I've had even a slight conversation with. Six. Two from Boston, one from Anchorage, two from Denver and one from Portland. Is the economic crisis in the US that bad? SL

Chau Buenos Aires

Chau Bella, you've been more than hospitable these last three months. I could go on for hours on all of your great things but I think it will be more humorous if I focus on the things that have made you unique:

I will miss your stuck up women, especially the 6s and below who think they're physically beautiful just because they're Argentine.

I will miss the occasional cigarette below a non-smoking sign at a bar.

I will miss the stories of crazy nights that led to someone being robbed.

I will miss how Two and a Half Men is the most popular TV show.

I will miss the 12:30AM start to Sharks games.

I will miss racially selective bouncers at all clubs.

I will miss the wooden cars of the Subte's Linea A.

I will miss mosquitoes biting into my tasty flesh.

I will miss the combination of boxed-wine and soda water.SL