Iw cawn't feewl anwythinwg

This just came across my desk: the world's largest hotpot.

Ouch! Um, bigger ≠ better...

A Lesson in Impermanence

Subtitled: Those Fucking Jack-asses Better Enjoy the Ride

So, I started a post this morning about the very cool One Laptop Per Child project, and the availability of these low power, low cost, nigh indestructible devices to children (and adults) in the U.S. for two weeks in November. Cf. David Pogue's review in The New York Times.

Then I got a call from my neighbor. Our (shared) garage was burglarized in the middle of the night, and they got away with my trusty Bridgestone MB-6 mountain bike, which has been my primary bicycle for the past dozen years or so. I'd tricked it out with an aerobar, mustache bar ends, front and rear pannier mounts and other bike-nerd accoutrements. All of which are now gone. And probably forever.

I'm bummed out. I'm confused. There's a lingering sense of violation.

I'm aiming for having perspective on the whole affair, trying to observe my own judgments about the fuckers who took this stuff (along with other assorted goods from the garage, including my little-used home-built "tadpole" recumbent tricycle / project bike and a pristine Yakima 4-bike trailer hitch rack with an integrated lock).

It's strange: I really love riding that mountain bike, but I'm acutely aware of replaceable it is, and ultimately how little an impact (financially) it will be for me to replace it, even with all the added gear. I can only assume that this was not the case for these thieves. So I guess I come back to the notion that the best solution to many petty or nuisance crimes like this is to share the wealth. But I also wonder whether there's a special level of hell for those who steal bicycles.

So, reluctantly, unhappily, I guess I'm in the market for a new set of human-powered wheels. (They left my rickety but faithful 1972 Schwinn 10-speed thrown onto its side in the garage. With the application of some elbow grease to bring it into repair, it will become my number one for the time being.)

I relied on my mountain bike to meet many diverse needs:

• An urban commuter and curb-jumper, sometimes subjected to winter riding


• A workhorse for hauling four fully-loaded panniers on solo bike-camping trips


• A long-distance bike (a role for which it was not especially well suited) with Continental Goliath tires to smooth out long stretches of pavement

Although thinking about replacing my bike gives me a stomach ache, I'd like to get your thoughts and suggestions about what bike should be my next ride. I'm not sure that having a single, all-purpose bike makes the same kind of sense it did when I bought the Bridgestone, so you should know that 99% of the use my new ride will get is that of an urban commuter. Any suggestions are appreciated.

Thanks go to Jayme, Milo, the Geek Club forum on presidential candidates and the money I dropped on new music at Electric Fetus for distracting me from this unhappy news today.

*Sigh.*

T.I.N. T.I.N. R.I.P.

(this is not) the end (this is now)

Thanks Jayme, Jay and Anthony.

I never meant to cause you any sorrow.

Holding our breath

The September 21 episode of "World View," a weekly podcast on world affairs from the New York Times, focuses on the growing pollution in China, its causes, its effects, and predictions of how things will evolve as China's economic boom continues.

Photos from China

I've just posted a gallery of 70 photos from my trip (culled from the 1,032 I brought home) on a pokey server. Enjoy!

Where you find it

I have made it home, and am now mostly adjusted to the Central time zone, after what ended up being 50 hours of travel between leaving Beijing to arriving in the City of Lakes. (My planned 7-hour lay-over in Chicago got extended by a delayed and oversold plane. At the 41-hour mark of my journey homeward, I accepted the airline's offer of 4 hours in a hotel in Chicago, a free ticket within the continental US, and first-class flight home the following morning.)

While I'm both tempted and reluctant to describe this return trip home as "epic," there is at least one sense in which that term is fitting: In re-acquainting myself to Minneapolis, I've been experiencing that wonderful sense of alienation that comes after travel, when familiar haunts, routines and habits both re-assert themselves and also seem strange, foreign and in some cases, downright odd.

It's been impossible, too, to resist comparisons between my experiences in China and life at home.

As I reflect on my diet in China (incredible diversity of ingredients, readily available, with an abundance of vegetables and fresh fish, and for me, a near-total absence of coffee and diary products), it's hard not to compare the waists and general fitness of people in China and here at home. It was shocking, actually, to land in Chicago and see people who seemed gigantic to me after spending a month of among folks -- Chinese people and lithe fellow travelers from around the world -- next to whom I often felt like, okay, it's time I really hit the gym.

As I try to describe the trip to others, I'm reminded of something Charlotte, a fellow traveler from New Zealand whom I met in Xi'an, said to me. She used the word tolerant to characterize her interactions with many Chinese people. She went on to share her impression that, in China, people seem to understand that everyone needs to get their needs met, and so there's a general willingness to make way for others and expect others to reciprocate, a camaraderie, if you will, that prevails over many interactions. Interactions which, back home, would cause frustration or even violence. Examples abound: the traffic flows in a way that feels more organic, less controlled, yet I didn't see the road rage I would expect at home; meals are almost always collective affairs, where the focus seems to be making sure the table has what it needs, rather than individual diners; any queue or collective wait creates a surge of people pressing forward and yet, appearance aside, no one seems particular harried in this collective mad dash.

These are only obvious, tangible examples, but they hint at something that I sensed on my trip, but don't yet have the words to adequately convey: a general ease and comfort you find in most people that things are moving forward, and even if it's a little messy, or a little difficult for some, overall things are moving in a good direction. That's still insufficient as a description, but it may capture the general, unhurried optimism I sensed in the attitude of many people I met in China. Optimism and patience. What a nice combination.

But there's certainly much more cogitating needed before I can do justice to this experience in words. (In fact, that point may never arrive.)

In the meantime, I'm having fun reconnecting with folks, unpacking my bags (the laundry situation might only be remedied with a bonfire), sifting through the zillion baffling scraps of paper I accumulated on this trip (including three receipts from one meal -- one for each dish or beverage ordered!), and organizing my photos from the trip (which I'll post soon).

And so far, here are the lessons for my packing for my next trip to China:

• Fewer clothes (The 4 long-sleeve shirts and 2 dressy pants I took were more than needed -- one of each could have sufficed for September, since I spent most days in a short-sleeve shirt and jeans. Besides, clothes are easy, cheap and fun to acquire during travels, and not maxing out one's pack is essential.)


• A bottle opener comes in handy (cigarette lighters there are made of softer plastic, and don't substitute for a good opener very well)


• A Skype headset and Skype-out credit with auto-recharging enabled, for staying in touch with the peeps


• TSA-approved combination locks (These are preferable to the key-locks I had with me, which required me to carry a key chain in my pocket, and also required the intervention of a hacksaw when I, um, locked said key chain inside my locker at a hostel in Beijing.)


• Less reading material, since there are foreign language bookstores with a decent English selection in most major cities


• An LED flashlight or headlamp, with good batteries (my headlamp apparently got turned on in my pack en route to China, and so was dead for the duration of my trip)


• A mobile phone that will accept a GSM SIM card


• A travel pillow, for plane, bus or train rides without sleeping berths, and to supplement rather skimpy or dingy pillows available at some hostels and sleeping berths

A couple of things would be handy to acquire as soon as you arrive in China, too. These include:

• A pocket knife


• A Chinese SIM card


• Loose-leaf tea of your choice and a handy tea thermos with a strainer (I bought mine at the base of the Yellow Mountains for about $1), which in combination with the abundant, free hot water in buses, trains, hotels and restaurants, means you have a tasty beverage anywhere in China.

Oh, one more lesson I learned today: Exchange your Chinese currency in China -- you'll do much better than the exchange rates back home (something that might apply to most currencies; the difference in exchange rates for converting Chinese yuan to dollars yielded 20% less at home than if I had exchanged them before I left).

My final thought for today:

Having returned home happy and healthy, I want to thank everyone who, through their own travels, emails, blog comments, telepathy and other means, joined me on this trip. It was a great pleasure to share this experience, and I look forward to continuing to share our travels, wherever they may take us.

Zaijian, Zhongguo (Goodbye, China)

This will likely be my last post from China (for a while at least!).

I've spent the past 24 hours saying farewell to Beijing and China as a
whole. Last night, fitting the occasion of mid-autumn moon festival, I
watched a red, full moon rising over Tianamen Square. A saturated
image, to be sure, but I find myself somehow reluctant to wring it for
metaphorical content. Perhaps because I just want to hold these last
impressions of this place, complex and uninterpreted, in the hopes
that they'll last a little longer. An impossible wish, but there you
have it.

Sampling moon cakes on this special night was memorable, but did not
feel especially Chinese, shared as it was with a couple of dozen
Western tourists. Of course, I am not surprised that my experience of
the occasion was one of being outside looking in; that is inevitable
to some extent. Much as the performance Daniel and I took in on
Tuesday morning: a celebration for mid-autumn moon festival involving
music, theater and dance at the Beijing Folk Museum, which we
literally watched from the wings, and whose twists and nuances we did
not follow (but enjoyed nonetheless).

Today, my last day in Beijing, I biked through thick (and thickening)
smog up to the Olympic Park that will be getting so much attention 10
months from now. As with many cities that host the Olympics, most of
Beijing's facilities are brand new. In this case, the elegant, modern
"Bird's Nest" stadium is surrounded by a formidable construction
wasteland, including some of the largest hotel complexes I have ever
seen that are being constructed adjacent to the Olympic park.

I have two brief stops remaining in Beijing before starting my rather
convoluted journey home tonight, which involves a night train to
Shanghai (12 hours), a lay-over there (8 hours), a flight to Chicago
(13 hours), a lay-over there (7 hours), a flight to Minneapolis (1
hour) and the cab ride home.

I anticipate getting home late Thursday (Minneapolis time; mid-day
Friday in China) exhausted, happy to be home, already nostalgic for my
time here, and changed by the remarkable people I have met in this
amazing place.