tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90901275110468527232024-02-06T23:40:07.603-08:00Ga-ja!Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-36848284064776970492007-11-12T19:10:00.000-08:002008-11-18T17:09:43.118-08:0011/5 The End...<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">As my trip neared the end, I had contrasting notions of time. Mongolia seemed so long ago but it also felt like I had just left San Francisco for this adventure.</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Before leaving Seoul on Monday, I said good-bye to some friends and my Korean mom. Nancy drove me to the airport and we said our farewell too. I'm always so sad to leave. Every time I come back, there's always something that's changed and no longer the way I remembered. But change is good. After </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">all, that's the reason why I embarked on this trip. Who know--if my Korean mom's prayers are answered, maybe I'll bring back a husband and a child on my next visit. One thing I know won't change is my friendships, especially ones like the one I have with Nancy. And that's very comforting.</span><br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhPDuNudzmhL6BOibUhSQXlPHyWuN6zN58BeUVmVU51Kn01ahyvqtc69nvIwJxNpLO78YJ8Jgpld0V_qUUjYXQJUXuyhRAwyv8DzmWQ3GaT6TKjEvYHsTySeIKu_2CtL9U10EBxrClLOrh/s1600-h/Me+and+Nancy+at+Seoul+Tower+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhPDuNudzmhL6BOibUhSQXlPHyWuN6zN58BeUVmVU51Kn01ahyvqtc69nvIwJxNpLO78YJ8Jgpld0V_qUUjYXQJUXuyhRAwyv8DzmWQ3GaT6TKjEvYHsTySeIKu_2CtL9U10EBxrClLOrh/s400/Me+and+Nancy+at+Seoul+Tower+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132167946792894178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Thanks to all of you who took the time to read my entries and view my photos. It was nice to hear from you and receive your feedback!<br /></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-67052895620165342332007-11-12T13:50:00.000-08:002008-11-18T17:09:43.539-08:0010/19 - 11/5 Old Friends, Aye?<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4NRLSl5MDJIlpUMQXLOWmKUEQvy4oID-BxUTgcRGCCHMeP5z37h3SOkklqTU2Q4kiZK4BZVz6yXurDPy-yY_ijmejkpI1npY3GbOkt_U69OsQZlN76hTqx8kRpkfHL3gXfkMo3TmXVOy/s1600-h/jackie+world+cup.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4NRLSl5MDJIlpUMQXLOWmKUEQvy4oID-BxUTgcRGCCHMeP5z37h3SOkklqTU2Q4kiZK4BZVz6yXurDPy-yY_ijmejkpI1npY3GbOkt_U69OsQZlN76hTqx8kRpkfHL3gXfkMo3TmXVOy/s400/jackie+world+cup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132118430114938530" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >I met Nancy in 1998 when we were placed in the same second level class at the Korean Language Institute. After graduating from the University of Toronto, she moved to Seoul and has made a nice life for herself as a successful voice actress. Over the years, she's become a very close friend and "home base" for all of my visits to Korea. In addition to opening her home, she's my partner in crime in Seoul. She suffers through noraebang (karaoke in a private room) as I sing my catalogue of Korean pop songs from the 1990's; we laugh at each other as we bowl yet another terrible game; we eat at Pusan Shikdang, the best dive restaurant in Shinchon, our old hang out; she expertly weaves us through the stalls of Namdaemun and Dongdaemun </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >markets, some of the most complicated mazes in Seoul; we visit the World Cup Museum where we take silly photos and make asses of ourselves "playing soccer"; and she expands my knowledge of the city by sharing her latest finds. Plus, since many of her friends are ex-pats, I catch up on my Canadian, aye?</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGI0oiGPcEJEPjaNrTFaU3Hu-E_17mjiYvuG3ocE1JaSxiatdMek24wi2clRc3T8NYAiBa4qvZENG20PKaX-bVb6n8dRfBgVatRtMcvxYpodI6g86vqygldva9CbkmxPBvvJ2Z-Yu5zVM/s1600-h/Nancy+World+Cup.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGI0oiGPcEJEPjaNrTFaU3Hu-E_17mjiYvuG3ocE1JaSxiatdMek24wi2clRc3T8NYAiBa4qvZENG20PKaX-bVb6n8dRfBgVatRtMcvxYpodI6g86vqygldva9CbkmxPBvvJ2Z-Yu5zVM/s400/Nancy+World+Cup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132118546079055538" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;">On one of our trips to Dongdaemun, we were walking towards a large shopping mall when I heard my name. As soon as I heard the voice, I knew it was Abel, one of our friends from KLI. Neither Nancy nor I had been in touch with him much but we always wondered how he was doing and what he was up to. Abel was the first Korean-Brazilian I met and his perspective had always interested me and Nancy. And before running into him on the street, we had literally spoken about wishing to meet him again. It was a huge coincidence that we were on the same street at the same time. We caught up at a cafe, after which Nancy and I went over all the things that had to have taken place for our serendipitous meeting with Abel to happen.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">Will, another KLI friend, was also in town so we had a mini reunion. I can't believe we've all known each other for nine years already. A lot has changed. Will and Abel are now married and Abel also has a daughter. I'm sure we all look older but I pretty much see the same faces I remember from our carefree days as students. I also met with Korean friends who've also gotten married, have children and are well into their official adult lives. Almost always, we'd end up reminiscing about the good old days. Aren't we too young for that? I suppose it's trying to recapture that freedom with old friends that makes coming back to Korea so much fun.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Photos can be found <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157603000789410/">here</a>.<br /></span><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-1705707526902535852007-11-12T11:36:00.001-08:002008-05-05T08:54:47.730-07:0011/1 "Twelfth Night"...in Russian!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">On Thursday night, Nancy, Chris and I went to see a performance of Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night" by the <a href="http://www.calperfs.berkeley.edu/presents/information_desk/program_notes/2006/pn_twelfth_night.pdf">Chekhov International Theatre Festival</a>. The production was directed by </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size:85%;">Declan</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size:85%;">Donnellan</span><span style="font-size:85%;">, a world renown actor and director of Shakespearean plays. If I read "Twelfth Night" in high school, it wasn't thoroughly since I didn't remember anything so Nancy gave us a quick synopsis. This became essential since the play was in Russian with a translation into Korean on projection screens placed on both sides of the stage. Since I don't speak Russian and am not fluent in Korean, it was pretty tricky to watch a comedy of errors involving twins, gender-bending and mistaken identities in this format. To make it extra challenging, it was performed by an all-male cast!<br /><br />The play was excellent and though the only words I understood were "</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-size:85%;">spaseeba</span><span style="font-size:85%;">" and "</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-size:85%;">dasvidanya</span><span style="font-size:85%;">", the Chekhov players were so expressive it didn't matter. And I was pleased that I could keep up somewhat with the translated dialogue.</span><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-9712604790802008252007-11-11T21:51:00.000-08:002008-11-18T17:09:43.890-08:0010/31 Seoul at Night<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmbuQ9eLyr5akHcaFFE-DK6ddzjw0NIS9FsSJM5js31w6xAoIB5K4p8WqOv5rX7hqy8RcRxuj1PVoFu53Q2SKMTf0_tqwCtqnqcNjeqjlfkB4ZNe64PrvaKbbuYtBVb37B1EqagsNVBqZ/s1600-h/IMG_0936.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmbuQ9eLyr5akHcaFFE-DK6ddzjw0NIS9FsSJM5js31w6xAoIB5K4p8WqOv5rX7hqy8RcRxuj1PVoFu53Q2SKMTf0_tqwCtqnqcNjeqjlfkB4ZNe64PrvaKbbuYtBVb37B1EqagsNVBqZ/s400/IMG_0936.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131806413625785746" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">For a nice evening out, Nancy and I went to n Grill, a revolving restaurant at the top of N Seoul Tower which provides the city's highest viewpoint. The tower serves as the antenna for various local and nationwide FM and TV broadcasting stations and opened in 1980 as a hybrid recreational/cultural complex. </span></span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >Nancy and I enjoyed our dinner at n Grill but the movement made us both a little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">queezy</span>. The view was spectacular and until then I didn't know how beautiful Seoul is at night.<br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">We also got a nice view of the city's evening skyline from the ferry. Nancy insisted we take a ride along the Han River which runs through the center of Seoul. In some respects it is like the Seine but much wider. Within city limits, its width measures 1 km.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Photos of Seoul at night can be found </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157603000857602/">here</a></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com121tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-30857478548068939482007-11-11T21:08:00.000-08:002008-11-18T17:09:44.059-08:0010/29 Gyeongbok Palace<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOny1LLtXxN-ku35u_jK0ePRUs5IgPf5jF6zcwiSYoqyISgu3eJ3N5CqyLLfglFAn7dKRFx29RVQAiiP6BVQTJrlYhWljeeJ9x0jVMkPe2xH7ZRwAwFOmcTi58h0IKKinqlAip_nRwPSW/s1600-h/IMG_0688.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOny1LLtXxN-ku35u_jK0ePRUs5IgPf5jF6zcwiSYoqyISgu3eJ3N5CqyLLfglFAn7dKRFx29RVQAiiP6BVQTJrlYhWljeeJ9x0jVMkPe2xH7ZRwAwFOmcTi58h0IKKinqlAip_nRwPSW/s400/IMG_0688.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132125164623658706" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >Though I had toured the palaces on my first trip to Seoul in 1995, I visited Gyeongbokgoong since Monday was a nice day. I arrived just in time for the changing of the guards ceremony which was a great photo opportunity.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >A brief history: Gyeongbok Palace was completed in 1395 and was the main and largest palace of the Joseon Dynasty. After being destroyed during the Japanese invasion of 1592-1598, it was reconstructed as a massive 330-building complex in the 1860s and became home to the Korean royal family. All but 10 buildings were destroyed in 1911 during the Japanese occupation.<br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">The main buildings on the palace grounds are Geunjeongjeon (the imperial throne room) and Gyeonghoeru Pavilion, which stands on 48 granite pillars on an artificial lotus lake. With two mountains near the original palace grounds, Gyeongbokgoong is surrounded by great natural beauty.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Seoul has over 10 million people living in an area of 605 sq km (smaller than New York or Tokyo), making it one of the most densely populated cities in the world. When stuck in a crowd, it can feel like you're being carried by a wave of people. While Gyeongbok Palace is a national treasure and symbol of Korea's royal history, it also serves as a quiet place for contemplation in a city moving at hyper speed.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Photos can be found </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157603005083767/">here</a></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /></span></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-27381712525196744302007-11-11T16:48:00.000-08:002008-11-18T17:09:44.262-08:0010/25 - 10/29 Metro Hotel - Myungdong<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAXj9yBP-Zsfie6r68oF50XJg5RWo5oYVhH6HJpDDe2TSVUcXm1JBisL-xgjzYlfnF91qm5r0nbDupDoP-KeGg39L5CUcBVKR9NgWflx5LX0wJRlakR8lznKA8GekxmcAOUqRjpaepnR53/s1600-h/metro+hotel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAXj9yBP-Zsfie6r68oF50XJg5RWo5oYVhH6HJpDDe2TSVUcXm1JBisL-xgjzYlfnF91qm5r0nbDupDoP-KeGg39L5CUcBVKR9NgWflx5LX0wJRlakR8lznKA8GekxmcAOUqRjpaepnR53/s200/metro+hotel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131815377222532530" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >There are some of the kindest, most open people in Korea and an example is the president of <a href="http://www.metrohotel.co.kr/index_eng.php?menu=restaurant&lang=eng">Metro Hotel</a> in Myungdong district. Before I arrived, my friends at Eastern Social Welfare Society (the agency through which I was adopted) told me about an offer by Metro Hotel for a free week's stay for adoptees visiting Korea. Myungdong is a popular shopping district in central Seoul and close to most sights and attractions. Staying at a hotel there is normally very expensive. Opened in 1954 (and the first to be registered as a tourist hotel in Korean history!) Metro Hotel was renovated three years ago and the lobby and rooms reminded me of the W Hotel. If you're in Seoul, it's a great alternative to the chain establishments since their rates are quite reasonable.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br />Though I didn't get a chance to meet the president, I met with the sales representative in charge of this special program. When I asked how the president became interested in adoptees </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >returning to Korea</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >, she said he had seen a program on television and contacted Eastern to see how he could help. Change happens quickly in Korea and new buildings sprout up all the time. Advances in consumer technology happen at lightening speed compared to the U.S. and Koreans adapt very quickly. But like most societies, social change is much slower. When the first wave of Korean adoptees returned, many came back with stories of hardship about racism and loneliness. In addition, due to negative attention about international adoption of children during the 1988 Summer Olympics, there was collective shame in Korea. As adoptees returned, many hoping to find the acceptance they felt was missing in their adoptive countries, most realized that things were not so easy in Korea either. Due to the work of many adoptees and Koreans, changes have been made. Though more still needs to be done, the generosity of individuals like the president of Metro Hotel is a great representation of this change.<br /><br />I would like to thank Metro Hotel and its president for their generosity and, more importantly, their interest in adoptees and adoptive families</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> visiting Korea.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /></span></span></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-453541559365918222007-11-11T10:21:00.000-08:002008-11-18T17:09:44.376-08:0010/19 - 11/5 Korean Cuisine<div style="text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Korean cuisine in the U.S. is fairly similar to what's available in Korea but the major difference is price. In the States, what can best be described as appetizers are often more expensive than main dishes. For instance, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size:85%;">dukboki</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> at a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size:85%;">pojangmacha</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> is $2 in Seoul but around $10-$16 in the U.S. Arguably, you're standing on the street when eating at a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-size:85%;">pojangmacha</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> but still! Korean-American takes on traditional dishes, like </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-size:85%;">kalbi</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> (marinated short ribs) and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-size:85%;">soondubu</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> (spicy tofu stew), make it to Korea as well. L.A. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-size:85%;">kalbi</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> is still popular and L.A. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-size:85%;">soondubu</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> made a big splash a few years ago. But there are still some regional dishes that don't make it out of Korea and restaurants I return to every visit.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4S0hu75sNje58Mx5Y964zYBiWLIg6oEj1yp21ju_0COwO1eDDUJ6y6sePatp0VAiEMreNZyZRsFSCKeR83fm3euIAXYDJTemKZcXLnNX95pvWi5ErUHAPPDWYIyGv_MjIhZGEMylhA8q/s1600-h/IMG_0629.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4S0hu75sNje58Mx5Y964zYBiWLIg6oEj1yp21ju_0COwO1eDDUJ6y6sePatp0VAiEMreNZyZRsFSCKeR83fm3euIAXYDJTemKZcXLnNX95pvWi5ErUHAPPDWYIyGv_MjIhZGEMylhA8q/s200/IMG_0629.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131739227452374370" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" >Samgaetang</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > is perhaps the most traditional stew in Korean cuisine. The most basic description is chicken soup with ginseng though preparing it is much more complicated than it sounds. A whole chicken or hen is stuffed with rice that is prepared with ginseng, chestnuts, pine nuts, garlic, </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" >ginkgo</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > and dates. Ginger and green onions are added to the broth. Though it's a stew, </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" >samgaetang</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > is often eaten in the early summer for stamina and energy to help deal with the hot weather. Nancy took me to To </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" >Sok</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" >Chon</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >, one of the most famous </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" >samgaetang</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > restaurants in Seoul. Lines can go around and around the block in the summer. They have a secret recipe for the broth which is thicker and milkier than other broths. The meat was so tender and just dropped off the bones. The soup leaves you feeling like you've just been swaddled in a warm blanket.<br /><br />On every visit, I go to a famous vegetarian restaurant called San </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" >Chon</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > in the art district </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" >Insadong</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >. San Chon, which means mountain village, serves fresh vegetables found in Korea's woods and mountains. The dishes are derived from temple cooking which the proprietor, Mr. Kim Yon </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" >Shik</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >, came to know during his years as a Buddhist monk. Nancy and I thought they added salt as a seasoning which they hadn't done before. Everything tastes pure and though there's no meat, you get quite full. As always, it was delicious.<br /><br />Korean evening dramas are popular all over Asia and one of the most popular is "</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" >Dae</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" >Jang</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" >Geum</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >" or "Jewel in the Palace" from 2003. The story's main character is </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" >Jang</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" >Geum</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >, who is loosely based on a historical figure from the </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" >Joseon</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > Dynasty and the first female royal physician. One of the features of the drama was royal cuisine and the actress who played </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" >Jang</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" >Geum</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > trained at Korea House, a well known restaurant and performance hall in Seoul. Korea House was a private residence during the actual </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" >Joseon</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > Dynasty period. Its modern reincarnation is inspired by Geunjeongjeon which is located in </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" >Gyeongbok</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" > Palace (write up to follow). The menu is based on descriptions in works of literature and royal court records. Table manners, kitchen utensils, ancestral rites table setting method and the names and ingredients of foods were all recorded during Korea's dynastic periods and Korea House serves according to those records. They also have folk arts performances. Compared to "peasant" food, royal cuisine seemed kind of bland. Korean food is pungent and spicy and royal food is basically the opposite. The decor and presentation were beautiful. We all felt satisfied and not stuffed like we normally feel after a meal which was a nice change.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >Photos of Korean cuisine can be found <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157603004994141/">here</a>.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-87392426313780382932007-11-10T21:57:00.002-08:002008-11-18T17:09:45.080-08:0010/10 - 10/19 The Pusan International Film Festival and "You HAVE to get married!"<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Qv7A8ftbOlz3UgGJP0rQROPfS8SoJYggo3-0r2-RzKSI354KzH6HnURjjPtBfvXGXaJUW87OnbQm3wvDM-Lf6IrhMBi3ueWcxqpTBsmgqzQskWAHHVTQY3k2LhyphenhyphenPHAkFo22a0hXeBgDh/s1600-h/IMG_0825.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Qv7A8ftbOlz3UgGJP0rQROPfS8SoJYggo3-0r2-RzKSI354KzH6HnURjjPtBfvXGXaJUW87OnbQm3wvDM-Lf6IrhMBi3ueWcxqpTBsmgqzQskWAHHVTQY3k2LhyphenhyphenPHAkFo22a0hXeBgDh/s200/IMG_0825.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131501140235287890" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >On Wednesday morning, Nancy, her friends Lisette and Chris, and I rode the <a href="http://info.korail.com/2007/eng/eng_index.jsp">KTX</a> bullet train to Pusan for the 12th annual Pusan International Film Festival. We were going to catch the festival's last few days, including the closing film. PIFF had kind of lost its ste</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >am and I was only impressed by one of the films I saw, a Chinese production of a Mongolian story called <a href="http://www.piff.org/eng/html/program/prog_view.asp?c_idx=12&idx=12038">Tuya's Wedding</a>. It is an interesting film about a shepherd and her difficult family circumstances. I believe its U.S. premier is soon and I highly recommend it. </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >The closing film was Evangelion 1.0 You Are (Not) Alone, an animated feature from Japan. I was hoping for something along the lines of Spirited Away or Akira but it was boring and the graphics plain so we left the screening in search of dinner.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">I have had some of my most useful language practices with Korean taxi drivers. They're usually bored and nosy so they ask all sorts of questions. The only down side is that they're quite complimentary so you can leave a cab ride with a rather inflated sense of you</span><span style="font-size:85%;">r abilities. But sometimes you end up with a driver that is a great entertainer. That night we got one very funny driver who also </span><span style="font-size:85%;">took us to a fantastic seafood restaurant by the water. "Soon Min's House" serves up Pusan style grilling which means lots of shellfish. Pusan, Korea's second largest city, is the country's largest port city and seafood is a staple.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIJtXy0yPmbvEruIQ_udsf6g5lIRAREexypSwUOXFD6IPK4zIWy7fcKYCvJuzXlY1ErSyFOoPZLvW_MTSsS5G1k-ERGcp74Z7dNMQ-dXkV_JZGUkJ7voyx0_7xH63rTgByAGXyUjMKo5m/s1600-h/IMG_0589.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIJtXy0yPmbvEruIQ_udsf6g5lIRAREexypSwUOXFD6IPK4zIWy7fcKYCvJuzXlY1ErSyFOoPZLvW_MTSsS5G1k-ERGcp74Z7dNMQ-dXkV_JZGUkJ7voyx0_7xH63rTgByAGXyUjMKo5m/s200/IMG_0589.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131769743195012482" border="0" /></a>Nancy, Chris and Lisette left for Seoul on Saturday and I stayed on to visit with my Korean mom. She has lived in Pusan since we moved there from Seoul after my birth father died when I was six months old. She's originally from Pusan and while I was born</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> in Seoul, since almost all of my childhood memories of Korea are from Pusan, I consider it my go-hyang, or hometown.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">My visit with my Korean mom had actually started on Wednesday when she had all of us over for lunch after our arrival from Seoul. She met us at the train station and the two of us took one cab while Nancy, Lisette and Chris took another. On the way to her house, she asked how I was and if I had been eating well. I try to visit Korea every few years and on my last trip in 2005, we had only one day together due to her work schedule so it really felt like I hadn't seen her since 2002. We were both quiet and I thought </span><span style="font-size:85%;">she was also reflecting on the importance of these visits. She placed a hand on my knee and had a serious look on her face. I prepared to hear words of wisdom. She looked into my eyes and said..."You HAVE to get married!</span><span style="font-size:85%;">"<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">In Korea, if you're a woman and haven't married by your mid twenties, you are considered a spinster. While that antiquated notion is dying out somewhat, it still lives in the older generation. Getting their children married is a major cause of stress for parents and they let you know it. The fact that I am not married is the greatest anxiety in my Korean mom's life and to top it off, I had returned with no job and no place to live. To her, I was a nightmare and all week long, I heard how I was running out of time since I wasn't getting any</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> younger. Usually when we talk on the phone, she tells me how she prays every day that I'll meet a nice man and marry, to which I always answer she needs to pray harder. More often than not, we laugh it off and I find it comforting that we share the same sense of humor. But this trip, sh</span><span style="font-size:85%;">e was dead serious and gave me the following five year plan:<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">2008 through 2009: Meet a nice man and get married<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">2010: Buy a house<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">2011 through 2012: Give birth to the first of my two children<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">In fact, she said that if I haven't at least gotten married and bought a house in five years, I shouldn't bother coming back to visit. Obviously, she's kidding. Right?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">It's hard to imagine that it's been a little over 12 years since my Korean mom and I reunited. Before our reunion, it had been 12 years since I left for America. In these last 12 years, we have both worked hard on this relationship. But during visits, I sometimes felt like we were still back to when I was eight years old. (This was not helped by my elementary Korean language skills.) Our communication had a distant quality. And as annoyed as I was at being constantly berated with marriage talk, this visit was a turning point. A part of me was happy since it felt like we had bridged the gap that's kept our relationship so formal. We were no longer holding back for fear of hurting each other. We were no longer holding back thinking we had no right to meddle. Now we are comfortable with our role in the other's life.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7e4BAwo5JbcVOFIO6dSxv4XihuPbtxptaKA0St263kwvPObC6vgGIW_j2BmEYqszzzdouTZtzzaw3fVXpKE7PjWZVfH9HJRrCQQfgNsGrMOs5JRDfWT62o7Tc-H_FutG_8HFMYry_aE4f/s1600-h/IMG_0627.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7e4BAwo5JbcVOFIO6dSxv4XihuPbtxptaKA0St263kwvPObC6vgGIW_j2BmEYqszzzdouTZtzzaw3fVXpKE7PjWZVfH9HJRrCQQfgNsGrMOs5JRDfWT62o7Tc-H_FutG_8HFMYry_aE4f/s400/IMG_0627.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132035726224686578" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">When I wasn't listening to instructions on how to execute my new five year plan, I was very busy being fed. My daily activities consisted of waking up and eating; going to the bath house and eating upon my return; resting; taking a cab ride to the beach and eating; resting; going shopping and eating; coming home and eating and resting; eating before going to bed. Literally, the only exercise I got was walking to the bath house that was 10 yards away.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >After feeling like there was no possible way I could eat more (or rest more), my Korean mom and I went to the train station and said good-bye. I left with two bags of food.</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >Photos can be found <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157603001068792/">here</a>.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-77606622690710659492007-11-10T17:02:00.000-08:002008-05-05T08:56:27.382-07:0010/8 - 10/9 Getting to Seoul<div style="text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm always excited to visit Korea but I was particularly looking forward to getting to Seoul after my less than successful trip to Moscow. I longed for the relief of being able to communicate and being in a familiar place.<br /><br />I flew on Emirates Airlines and had a stopover in Dubai. I wish I had known to take advantage of the <a href="http://www.emirates.com/us/english/destinations_offers/dubai_stopovers/dubai_stopovers.aspx">"Dubai Stopover"</a> program that Emirates offers. For a very low price, they take care of everything from your accommodations to car service. It would have been a great opportunity to see a city with one of the fastest growing reputations as a major international destination. The Dubai international airport was abuzz with travelers from all over the world. It's a shopper's heaven as their duty free is open 24 hours a day and products offered range from liquor and cosmetics to dvds, books and electronics. Even at 2 a.m. the shops were packed with people making last minute purchases.<br /><br />With the time change, traveling to Seoul took a whole day. I left Moscow on Monday afternoon and arrived in Seoul Tuesday afternoon. Nancy met me at the airport, after reassuring me several times that she'd be there. We met two friends for dinner in Hong Dae, one of our old haunts and a neighborhood surrounding Hong Ik University which is Korea's premier fine arts college. This started my nearly non-stop consumption of Korean food. It's not as if I don't eat Korean food in the U.S. But for me, nothing beats the <a href="http://www.lifeinkorea.com/pictures/hongiky10.jpg">pojangmachas</a> (street carts) and they're out at all hours of the night, a dangerous convenience since it allows me to get my fix of late night eating. Nancy looked on with horror as I stuffed myself with <a href="http://www.lifeinkorea.com/Images/Food/sfood4.jpg"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">dukboki</span></a> </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">and <a href="http://www.huojinala.com/images/B3-Odeng.gif">odeng</a> all month long. It's disgraceful the way I treat Korea as my personal all-you-can-eat buffet. I ought to be ashamed but I'm usually too busy eating!<br /></span><br /></span></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-78609201213183583192007-10-24T07:26:00.001-07:002008-11-18T17:09:45.861-08:0010/4 - 10/8 A Series of Unfortunate Events<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">After sleeping in and enjoying my stay at the Sheraton, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">emb</span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">arked</span> on a walk to Red Square. All the sights in Moscow are pretty much within walking distance of each other and now that I could place myself on a map, it was fairly easy to get to monuments. On the way I saw the Foreign Ministry building which is in a hybrid style that is referred to as Stalinist Gothic. It was very imposing and in the middle of a bustling boulevard. I also saw the Cathedral of Ch</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">rist</span> the Redeemer which was beautiful.</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Kd6tr-wgj8Ukh0bSPSU69D9vcwcFbA6xOp5os40hyphenhyphenqv9EXu7jUlSUMaQMvIPZ0T9mK7Twr-eKpgducplQDix1LDlUekhcKPVhFFJeB-DE22RRjPNb5FEoCSOVx8QQ8NA0yM4tPJCaD8R/s1600-h/nov+2006+133.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Kd6tr-wgj8Ukh0bSPSU69D9vcwcFbA6xOp5os40hyphenhyphenqv9EXu7jUlSUMaQMvIPZ0T9mK7Twr-eKpgducplQDix1LDlUekhcKPVhFFJeB-DE22RRjPNb5FEoCSOVx8QQ8NA0yM4tPJCaD8R/s400/nov+2006+133.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124937593670045234" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I took a more roundabout way and by the time I got to Red Square it started to rain. I was hoping to see signs for tours or the big red bus but </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Moscow is not yet prepared for international tourism. I saw very few non-Russians and signs were not in anything but Russian. I got into St. Basil's Cathedral, pictures of which are in the post below. It's so interesting since its design </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">and rich colors are unusual for a cathedral, at least to western eyes. According to the guide book, St. Basil's was commissioned by Ivan the Terrible to celebrate the capture of the Mongol stronghold of Kazan in 1552. It is reputed to have been designed by the architect <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Postnik</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Yakovlev</span> (yeah, I don't know who that is either). According to legend, Ivan the Terrible was so amazed at the beauty of St. Basil's that he had <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Yakovlev</span> blinded lest he design an equal. I also walked past the Lenin Mausoleum and saw parts of the Kremlin that could be viewed from outside the walls.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFU9hKAheGV2JfYI3PbrUhW4ZuYO3O8BBdCXvfNtASvrLkzb8CIaNu-k5RBHmIYMIRQd1ElM_A5ahq42dl2Xj8gmpja9S7T-PkH-TzFGphIm96LRQk53dSh23TH0NvVUXFPxCcjWII6_I/s1600-h/nov+2006+139.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFU9hKAheGV2JfYI3PbrUhW4ZuYO3O8BBdCXvfNtASvrLkzb8CIaNu-k5RBHmIYMIRQd1ElM_A5ahq42dl2Xj8gmpja9S7T-PkH-TzFGphIm96LRQk53dSh23TH0NvVUXFPxCcjWII6_I/s200/nov+2006+139.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124938255095008834" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I got to Marika's apartment that evening </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">after her friend met me back at</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">the</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> She</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">raton</span>. Turns out I had been waiting outside the right apartment building but we must have just missed each other. For those of you who know Marika, I'll share that her apartment is quite charming. But she leads the stereotypical life of a banker. What more proof do you need than bot</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">tles</span> of Evian, a bottle of bubbly and caviar in the fridge? Girlfriend doesn't even have salt in the house. I spent Friday trying to get on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">internet</span> but something was amiss and I had no access. Being in Marika's apartment was like being in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Bizarro</span> World. For instance, there's a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">dvd</span> player but none of her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">dvds</span> can be played on it </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">because they're from the wrong region. Wireless networks a</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">ppear</span> available but none of them has a signal.</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> There's a phone but I couldn't make an international call (t</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">urns out I just wasn't waiting for the rotary system to clear the code). Since it was pouring,</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> I decided not to go out and figured things would be a lot easier once Marika got back to Moscow. Watching an American television show in Russia is really funny. Like the French, they dub over. But unlike the French, there's a</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> two-second delay so you can still faintly hear the English. So "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">CSI</span> Miami" sounded like this: "Horatio, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">fou</span>..blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah."</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCd38s5m4eIVI8YI6t4Lpbat5INUM65LiM9sJes2bOpzos30DC5nqjw3-o-mW3DRrQSzTCVDIWCCm7b_CKC6iQEUCnrqSp6BvhSQqoBkc96SfUk5G7VF8Fao7hgeUlw2gJVCJiUXaLvTsU/s1600-h/nov+2006+147.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCd38s5m4eIVI8YI6t4Lpbat5INUM65LiM9sJes2bOpzos30DC5nqjw3-o-mW3DRrQSzTCVDIWCCm7b_CKC6iQEUCnrqSp6BvhSQqoBkc96SfUk5G7VF8Fao7hgeUlw2gJVCJiUXaLvTsU/s200/nov+2006+147.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124950465687031426" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">S</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">ince</span> she didn't get in Saturday morning, I guessed Marika's flight was delayed. I mapped out an itinerary of seeing the Chekhov House Museum, Gorky House Museum and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Arbat</span> area. I</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">t was still raining so I didn't take any pictures. Unfortunately, there was nothing for me to take pictures of since I couldn't gain entrance into either of the museums. It looked like the Che</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">khov</span> House Museum was under renovation. I tried to figure out the information provided at the Gorky House Museum but there was no official entrance. I walked around the house and several security people stepped out but none could understand my questions or hand gestures. "In...I want to get inside. Where you just came from. Inside. Not outside. Inside. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Nevermind</span>." The stain glass did look beautiful and had it been a nicer day, I'm sure they would have made nice photographs. Defeated, I went to Old <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Arbat</span> which </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">used to be the artsy area. Now it's just filled with souvenir shops. It was a tiny but much needed victory to find <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">chotchkis</span> for people back home.</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Marika finally arrived around 8pm on Sunday. </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The poor girl had been stuck in transit since her flight got re-routed. In our short time together, we had dinner at a nice restaurant near her neighborhood and drinks at a posh bar frequented by overworked Morgan Stanley analysts. </span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I left the next afternoon and my extraordinary experience in Moscow extended to the ride to the airport. Traffic in Moscow is insane. Part of the problem is that it's like the wild, wild west. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBP0dgzxlqfyBE72q3PkAo3R-99eKEEaWsXn94-_Z_TL8fCs0CjhMF0gm1uF8smv8SFzZrgCg8zDZ4xyDqypkLWmRWHNd1OtRHOWkTELt9YHM6x-A48b26uizzwVLmbCvoZ3UVSFlqnh9/s1600-h/nov+2006+142.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBP0dgzxlqfyBE72q3PkAo3R-99eKEEaWsXn94-_Z_TL8fCs0CjhMF0gm1uF8smv8SFzZrgCg8zDZ4xyDqypkLWmRWHNd1OtRHOWkTELt9YHM6x-A48b26uizzwVLmbCvoZ3UVSFlqnh9/s200/nov+2006+142.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124938826325659218" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">There may be laws but they serve no purpose. It's everyone for himself. While trying to weave through traffic, my driver got us ring side seats to a violent road rage confrontation. When we drove up, we saw the driver of a sedan ("sedan driver") reaching in and hitting the driver o</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">f a delivery truck ("truck driver"). </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">There was a lot of yelling but the sedan driver got back into his car. Unfortunately, the truck driver wasn't done and he kept slamming his door into the car. O</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">f course this pissed off the sedan driver and his friend who was on the receiving end of all that slamming. Both of them dragged the truck driver out and the beating started. At one </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">point, the truck driver was on the ground with the sedan driver kicking him. After they were satisfied, the sedan driver and his friend returned to his car. I thought it would end there but somehow the truck driver got back into his truck and began shooting what looked like a gun at the car. It couldn't have been a real gun since again the sedan driver and his friend got out. This time though, the sedan driver popped his trunk and took out a baton. Not the kind you twirl but the kind that cops use. Thinking I was really going to see someone get beaten to death, all I could do was say, "No, no, no" over and over again. It was pretty much to myself since I wasn't going to roll down my </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">window and try to negotiate a truce. I was just hoping someone would intervene before it got ugly. Luckily, the man to the left of us got out and after a few minutes, he managed to get all parties to disperse. I don't know what was more persuasive, his words or the pistol he wore on his hip for all to see. For good measure, the sedan driver smashed the truck driver's window with the baton before leaving the scene.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZPNAEdItrPWcZSJFmta1BQQfxTYmjuqzb8cmgFhIHZJd2A00KquhAL4FKNHKTxzzyZ5zq9oUKQ2PTuOXyuRGsYqcodzV0VutOXpZJtji1doHWmDjqIdthmA7_cNQMJ_A9YYchb3TifjFn/s1600-h/nov+2006+135.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZPNAEdItrPWcZSJFmta1BQQfxTYmjuqzb8cmgFhIHZJd2A00KquhAL4FKNHKTxzzyZ5zq9oUKQ2PTuOXyuRGsYqcodzV0VutOXpZJtji1doHWmDjqIdthmA7_cNQMJ_A9YYchb3TifjFn/s400/nov+2006+135.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124939401851276898" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Moscow was interesting, to say the least. I wish I enjoyed myself more but I learned a lot. I think it will take some time before Moscow becomes an international tourist destination. As more business people and wealthy travelers access the city, more services will become available. But as long as a night at a hotel starts at almost $500; information is only available in Russian; hotel concierge desks are the only option for tourists to contact tours that are in turn the only way to gain entrance to points of interest, Moscow will remain impossible for the average tourist to navigate. It's frustrating to try to figure out a city when everything seems <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">counterintuitive</span>. The main take away from this experience was that regardless of whether I have a friend in that country, if I don't speak the language, I need to do a lot more research than I did for Russia. It's too bad that I didn't see the best side of Moscow and because of the difficulties I faced this trip, I'll likely never return to Russia. But it certainly was eventful.</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-55829186321278111272007-10-23T23:56:00.000-07:002008-11-18T17:09:46.207-08:0010/3 Where the #@!& am I???<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I left Paris early morning of 10/3 for Moscow to visit Marika. Moscow wasn't on my original list of places to visit but since I had a friend who lives in the city, it seemed like a good opportunity. Two days before I left Paris, Marika informed me that she would be in London until early Saturday morning. Though I was disappointed that we would only have the weekend to see each other, realistically with her schedule, I probably wouldn't have seen that much of her during the week anyway. And I figured I could join a tour group in Red Square and see the sights on my own. Marika arranged f</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">or a car to pick me up at the airport and a friend to meet me at her apartmen</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">t so it seemed easy enough. But it wasn't and thus began my adventures in Moscow, or what I call a series of unfortunate events.<br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1r8g46gG4q26SKyjoa_34IlK4U_ofWvuALB5DuQboY-CSASi0gS4lZMbKTKvrtSljSR_eofQjsx2_Nh5q1Qq_LM_hwBZWNqbPI4aqwcvQz9xX3zrMA7J2UMya8QrArdLeU6i-Ivjh_ve8/s1600-h/nov+2006+137.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1r8g46gG4q26SKyjoa_34IlK4U_ofWvuALB5DuQboY-CSASi0gS4lZMbKTKvrtSljSR_eofQjsx2_Nh5q1Qq_LM_hwBZWNqbPI4aqwcvQz9xX3zrMA7J2UMya8QrArdLeU6i-Ivjh_ve8/s400/nov+2006+137.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124822930928143874" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">After waiting for nearly an hour while dodging aggressive <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">cabbies</span></span> and being unsuccessful at buying a phone card, I hopped in a taxi and made my way to Marika's. Since Marika lives in an apartment building, I pictured meeting her friend in the main lobby. I suppose it was presumptuous for me to think that Russia operates like the rest of the world. Turns out addresses in Moscow include slashes (i.e. 215/1 Main Street) and since the info I had didn't, the cab driver left me at what he thought was the right building. This was after winding down some side streets. Apartment buildings in Moscow don't have main lobbies. In fact, the front of the building looks like the back. To an outsider, there's nothing indicating an entrance. So I sat outside that building for a while since I had a huge <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">duffel</span> bag and a backpack. When it was clear no one was looking for me, I began my 2.5 hour trek around the neighborhood. I had transcribed Marika's address into Cyrillic and asked a couple of people who told me I was at the right location or po</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">inted back to the building from which I came. I dragged my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">duffel</span> around and around and back and forth a central area. Most peopl</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">e were indifferent while some looked on with sympathy, or what I like to think was sympathy. When I got tired of playing the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">reoccurring</span> contestant in the "One of these things is not like the others" game, I gave up and walked onto the main boulevard. A woman stopped me, pointed at my bag and gave me a bi</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45ZDdgOBsF0Q3dSasECBDefx0ewnYFDvprmRa9FrZn9NGgSqqiu5nN10hZoQa_a5j10Zy5G4JO60kYIMSe8YnAbb7RBcGB_fXs2EUcE-UAYB65sFWJULpovmq1FfsRTz2NagjTPOu0Xdf/s1600-h/nov+2006+141.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45ZDdgOBsF0Q3dSasECBDefx0ewnYFDvprmRa9FrZn9NGgSqqiu5nN10hZoQa_a5j10Zy5G4JO60kYIMSe8YnAbb7RBcGB_fXs2EUcE-UAYB65sFWJULpovmq1FfsRTz2NagjTPOu0Xdf/s200/nov+2006+141.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124824369742188066" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">g explanation in Russian which I took to be, "You're not supposed to be on this street. Clearly you're lost." She pointed to a sign that looked like "Apartments" in Cyrillic and went on her way. Again, no main lobby but I did find a sign that I guessed to be the apartment numbers included in the building. I waited outside the one with Marika's apartment number, hoping that her friend would be on the look out. No such luck. At this point, it was starting to get dark and when it became </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">clear that a rescue party was not going to appear, I had to find a place to spend the night. Since I had no idea where I was, it was a little difficult to orient myself so I could set off in the right direction. Taxis don't really do street pick ups in Moscow but I figured I could find one at a transportation depot. I remembered passing a train station on the way to Marika's so I headed in that direction. As I walked, I found what I thought wa</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">s an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">internet</span></span> cafe but the woman just yelled at me in Russian when I tried to pay. It was then that I wished I never left Paris.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">As I dragged my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">duffel</span> bag through the crowded streets, I was trying to plan what I would do once I got into a cab. How do I find a hotel? Should I go back to the airport where I saw a chain hotel? Where the fuck am I?</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Just when I thought I could not take any more of the confusion and frustration, I walked through construction scaffolding and heaven appeared across the street. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Hallelujah</span>! I was saved. And my savior's name was the Sheraton Palace Hotel.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbq9w81jblxb17-7ftx_BT0uuqXdVRz70T-KbGlw8C0cAMbSYDUcQrO4g1r9_R7FpjyYeng3_orSFL-Y9QH3XdfcYfxlpOXjSeFSmLWkUgrt8IojQq2h2O8cEArg-aJfHz8X6tADpgC_0e/s1600-h/nov+2006+140.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbq9w81jblxb17-7ftx_BT0uuqXdVRz70T-KbGlw8C0cAMbSYDUcQrO4g1r9_R7FpjyYeng3_orSFL-Y9QH3XdfcYfxlpOXjSeFSmLWkUgrt8IojQq2h2O8cEArg-aJfHz8X6tADpgC_0e/s200/nov+2006+140.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124823648187682322" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">M</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">oscow was recently named the most expensive city in the world. Hotel room fees are astronomical but I would have paid an arm and a leg at that point. I got a nice room with a plush king size bed and ordered in dinner. After phoning Marika in London, we arranged for her friend to pick me up the next evening at the hotel. To give you an idea of how things are done in Russia, the cost of the 20 minute call to London was double that of my dinner, which included a bottle of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kressmann</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Bordeaux</span>. </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I went to bed hoping that this day was just a fluke.</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I want to say that at no point during this experience did I think I was in danger. I didn't fear that someone would try to rob or attack me. And as I was walking around and around, I thought back to when I went to Seoul for the first time on my own for my junior year abroad. Poor planning had me landing at night and while I took Korean language lessons, I was a true beginner. The taxi driver couldn't find his way to the international dormitory and out of frustration, he dropped me off on the main street. The only store I could see was a bakery that had just closed. I had no idea where I was or in which direction I should set off. Fortunately, the first person I stopped spoke English. Not only did this man help me drag my bag up the hill to the dorm, he explained who I was to the security guards who didn't speak English and made sure I was safely in my room before leaving. To a lesser degree but like this kind man, the woman in Moscow who stopped me and pointed out the sign for the apartment building proved my belief that when they can, people want to be of help. When they can't, like the taxi driver in Seoul and the crazy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">internet</span> lady in Moscow, reactions are universal. First, they yell in their language even though you clearly can't understand. Then they ask themselves why you're so stupid and how they got themselves into this mess. And, finally, they throw their hands up and leave. Or ignore you until you leave, in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">internet</span> lady's case. </span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-20283078091619131562007-10-22T20:49:00.000-07:002008-11-18T17:09:46.656-08:009/24 - 10/3 Paris With Anthony<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5t-0Iwug7TWAbHdDPwPVYS-qigseo-CDxTUF4md26BNvuT-5fxIXTr3Q_9nguM-0P60MjkYD6LokB_D5LFxCOeeSlOn8495Iykqh7JmlpiSijChHZcIE285QZkq4PQ9LnOGtD0xU_XbKk/s1600-h/Jackie+and+Anthony.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5t-0Iwug7TWAbHdDPwPVYS-qigseo-CDxTUF4md26BNvuT-5fxIXTr3Q_9nguM-0P60MjkYD6LokB_D5LFxCOeeSlOn8495Iykqh7JmlpiSijChHZcIE285QZkq4PQ9LnOGtD0xU_XbKk/s400/Jackie+and+Anthony.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124376164135046594" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I returned to Paris f</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">or the last week of September and was really looking forward to my friend Anthony joining me. I met Anthony on my first new years in California and while we've been friends since, we'd never gotten a chance to spend one-on-one time. This was his first time in Paris and I was sure he'd love it as much as I do.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The end of September brought rain and I was afraid the whole week would be overcast. I had saved visiting the Louvre and the Picasso Museum for after Anthony arrived. I found the Louvre completely overwhelming. The line to see the Mona Lisa wasn't as bad as I had been warned and the experience was better than I thought it would be. I suppose I had lowered my expectation after being told over and over again how disappointing the display is. The Picasso Museum was perfect. The size of the space, an old school, and the flow of the exhibitions made it a very enjoyable experience. </span></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3YWYVlDWdL-N8g8a4W9asZ4G7ZMiIhgewRftKgycOEhPFLpTHfoMVkevdZegudPIH_AsN6Y6COai75ylxjJw4OGGtsv8H2zDJl8djlwFXDXXkFcT-RQpOB95gRvqLplat8zwLroGI8RG/s1600-h/Bread.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3YWYVlDWdL-N8g8a4W9asZ4G7ZMiIhgewRftKgycOEhPFLpTHfoMVkevdZegudPIH_AsN6Y6COai75ylxjJw4OGGtsv8H2zDJl8djlwFXDXXkFcT-RQpOB95gRvqLplat8zwLroGI8RG/s200/Bread.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124379338115878354" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I don't know how the French aren't fat.</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> There are an endless number of great restaurants and a typical French meal ends with cheese <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>dessert. Anthony and I ate our way through the city, enjoying amazing wine and going back to our favorite mussels joint. For Saturday night, we went to Alcazar, a</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> trendy restaurant in Saint Germaine des Pres. The guidebook said a good night club was next door so we thought it would be a fun night out. Alcazar could be in San Francisco or New York. T</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">he interior was designed by Terence Conran and the food reminded me of New American cuisine that San Francisco does so well. As we exited the restaurant to go to the club, we noticed that the line to get into Alcazar's upstairs bar was a lot longer (or, existed) than the line for the club. Uh oh. But we forged ahead. <a href="http://traveldk.com/">DK Eyewitness Travel</a> is my preferred travel guide series. As their slogan goes, they show you what others only tell you. Apparently, everyone likes their Paris guidebook because the club was packed with international folks and no French people could be found. Bad music and bad dancing led us back to Alcazar and Anthony and I danced the night away there.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojiSazok8hGfU5dGQi81YrLppAfHTkjhzhyphenhyphenjJQR_rqtv5Cfrg-qpGLMCtpqa6IgBPXr9uP9IdQ_l3upq07G5ZuMIOw_5vaN_hhdIq_2e7OELc1kvjyk_kkOj4E-rpOFU33DMcq0rRyIOZ/s1600-h/Anthony.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojiSazok8hGfU5dGQi81YrLppAfHTkjhzhyphenhyphenjJQR_rqtv5Cfrg-qpGLMCtpqa6IgBPXr9uP9IdQ_l3upq07G5ZuMIOw_5vaN_hhdIq_2e7OELc1kvjyk_kkOj4E-rpOFU33DMcq0rRyIOZ/s200/Anthony.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124391776341167586" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">N</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">ot everyone would choose to spend his birthday away from home but Anthony is</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> special. He hopped on a plane and said what the hell, why not join Jackie in Paris. On his birthday, we took a bus and boat tour that ended with a lunch at Altitude 95 in the Eiffel Tower. It was another rainy day and they closed access to the top but it was still a lot of fun to see the details of the iron work. France hosted the Rugby World Cup and they had a clever display at the tower. When we stopped for a snack near the Tuileries, Anthony got a close up of one of his favorite things about Paris: Parisian men in pin striped suits. Parisians definitely know how to dress.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiJCg2w7vqO-wHSRZuf47BrrHXjOKRzDsMSYitAHzGxQHGueyPXHfzC96dfSjogIFqO5e_ExCEz8RnlitRjP0fX6w3khiGLh25ZVYu2VfP2sLOfZPhhvd1j5BwqB0YFOF0O10cq5c8EPw/s1600-h/nov+2006+109.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiJCg2w7vqO-wHSRZuf47BrrHXjOKRzDsMSYitAHzGxQHGueyPXHfzC96dfSjogIFqO5e_ExCEz8RnlitRjP0fX6w3khiGLh25ZVYu2VfP2sLOfZPhhvd1j5BwqB0YFOF0O10cq5c8EPw/s200/nov+2006+109.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124392360456719858" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Anthony left the next day so I spent my last day trying one more time to visit the Opera House. Marc Chagall was commissioned to paint the ceiling of the auditorium in 1964. The Opera House is itself a magnificent building and the interior is gorgeous. But the ceiling of the auditorium is a special treat for anyone who likes Chagall.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">New York will always be home, San Francisco will always have a special place in my heart and Seoul will always be my playground but there is something truly magical about Paris. The entire city is so aesthetically pleasing and charming. It's accessible and the Metro system is a tourist's best friend. Even though I spent so much time here, I know there's more to find out about this city. And I look forward to visiting again.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Anthony's and my photos can be found <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602564517728/">here</a>.</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-11839122026475067422007-10-22T18:47:00.000-07:002008-11-18T17:09:47.674-08:009/15 - 9/24 The Loire Valley<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDsoX6DNjZvz3kLlm0eZud08j7m0rBeNAZHy2jcMWGOqv-WfMSNkMCUNBI_qM6h-I8lorvD6pK3h-X40ONGVnuSuIQJl93NyYnCLxEtJO-LbStNtUlNDECPwS4wxgoy3jQOP54xyk0Fdp/s1600-h/nov+2006+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDsoX6DNjZvz3kLlm0eZud08j7m0rBeNAZHy2jcMWGOqv-WfMSNkMCUNBI_qM6h-I8lorvD6pK3h-X40ONGVnuSuIQJl93NyYnCLxEtJO-LbStNtUlNDECPwS4wxgoy3jQOP54xyk0Fdp/s400/nov+2006+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124345966219988290" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">On Saturday, 9/15, I took the train to Orleans to meet my parents for our walking tour. </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">All around </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">France, there are walking trails, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Grande</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Randonnees</span></span> or "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">GRs</span></span>", maintained by the <a href="http://www.ffrandonnee.fr/">Federation <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Francaise</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">de</span></span> la <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Randonnee</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Pedestre</span></span></a>. We followed a section of the GR3 which covers the Loire Valley. </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">My dad loves France and my parents have enjoyed village-to-village walking tours around Provence. It's one of their favorite activities so for my dad's birthday, I suggested we do a walking tour together. It was an opportunity to spend time with my parents and see a completely different part of France. </span><br /><br />I</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">nstead</span></span> of getting off at Orleans, I panicked and got off at Les <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Aubres</span></span> Orleans</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">. I heard "Orleans" and saw a lot of people getting off so I didn't want to miss my stop. The funny thing is that when I got to the lobby of the station, I saw my parents. I thought, "How nice that they came to pick me up," but in reality, they had done exactly what I had. It was a lucky coincidence.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLFsBpX_D0LaS5HMFr2EXP1ZB-FyhXLcWcfEUc45tR-NLXrqYUo2ie7uCtvGb8O2uZouk806FFaQFA_LGukDusysrYH3ny7Y8rvXQ6j3yA2RN-chmtGUxK0SS_myZUwUKb1DiX7mSjlCq/s1600-h/nov+2006+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLFsBpX_D0LaS5HMFr2EXP1ZB-FyhXLcWcfEUc45tR-NLXrqYUo2ie7uCtvGb8O2uZouk806FFaQFA_LGukDusysrYH3ny7Y8rvXQ6j3yA2RN-chmtGUxK0SS_myZUwUKb1DiX7mSjlCq/s200/nov+2006+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124353555427200338" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Orleans is a cute</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> town with a charming <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">downto</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">wn</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> square. Cafes, restaurants and a carousel attract young people and families alike. Since it's not far from Paris, it's a nice weekend destination. The next day we started our walk in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Meung</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">sur</span></span> Loire and followed the river to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Beaugency</span></span>. I took a nap while my parents explored the town.</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Somehow, the day we were there was the <span style="font-style: italic;">only</span> day that certain buildings were </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">open to the public. So I missed my one chance to see Caesar's Tower, the Abbey Church of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Notre</span></span>-Dame and other historical attractions. My timing was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">impeccable</span>.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAsZQHPQNKiGbvhhHVOttOi25wbgVEo6khCfKnIM9-WcnV5MCQ1PrbfdO57Lt2-7HvP8TNboDZMxVlZFZdl-SaN7A-F1Jg54xORaTQZojwsfvX9gdCeLOq5gZfTGbhyphenhyphenHLu4IpPb-eaUfC3/s1600-h/nov+2006+015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAsZQHPQNKiGbvhhHVOttOi25wbgVEo6khCfKnIM9-WcnV5MCQ1PrbfdO57Lt2-7HvP8TNboDZMxVlZFZdl-SaN7A-F1Jg54xORaTQZojwsfvX9gdCeLOq5gZfTGbhyphenhyphenHLu4IpPb-eaUfC3/s200/nov+2006+015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124355732975619426" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Following the blazes, we walked on</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Lestoire</span></span> planning</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> to have lunch. Turns out there is literally nothing in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Lestoire</span></span>. The woman at the town hall (maybe the mayor?) offered to drive us to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Avary</span></span> but we chose to walk. When people talk about the French, there's often this misconception that they're snobby and look down at Americans. I've never found this to be true and, in fact, more often than not, people were very helpful and curious about our adventure.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Our plans took us to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Chambord</span></span> which is known for being home to the largest</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> estate in Europe and its Chateau. King Francis I had the chateau built as a hunting lodge and Henry II and Louis XI</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">V often visited until Versailles was erected. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Chambord</span></span> is 156m long and 56m tall with 77 staircases, 282 fireplaces (the mouths of which were all taller than I) and 426 rooms. It's quite a hunting lodge. The estate itself is the size of Inner Paris.</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">While <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">blu</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">eprints</span></span> no longer exist, it is thought that Leonardo <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">da</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Vinci</span></span> is the architect.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LjOcOXsBvmMhZBciaCGbRUl6om9pRFNoYfCFTlhnEReG-86s38AMmrL5hWZWVSMwJsPwFjqkMXPAoqEQS1knz9RR2_0-jMohotNPdquntTAn8BjcB0kGMQ1HYovjKxUJYy107SAI-jlU/s1600-h/nov+2006+030.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LjOcOXsBvmMhZBciaCGbRUl6om9pRFNoYfCFTlhnEReG-86s38AMmrL5hWZWVSMwJsPwFjqkMXPAoqEQS1knz9RR2_0-jMohotNPdquntTAn8BjcB0kGMQ1HYovjKxUJYy107SAI-jlU/s200/nov+2006+030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124360483209448850" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8OfgiN-LmOuhX2isoxeLCyArRELP1ZocmMtBuxsNb6X1mCVvoM__TcVHx-2qFkqkaxZBH_u9V_kfbh7AQMcb2D0S8V1iLlTQ6OW9_-zDlvi2NQjg3NAso-PwpSswldgn1315heIfutjm/s1600-h/nov+2006+020.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8OfgiN-LmOuhX2isoxeLCyArRELP1ZocmMtBuxsNb6X1mCVvoM__TcVHx-2qFkqkaxZBH_u9V_kfbh7AQMcb2D0S8V1iLlTQ6OW9_-zDlvi2NQjg3NAso-PwpSswldgn1315heIfutjm/s200/nov+2006+020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124359031510502770" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The next few towns were quite residential. Everyday the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">sc</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">enery</span></span> changed, from forest land to open farm fields. We walked past many grapevines and every night we tried a different local wine.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Aside from a couple of days of rain, the weather was perfect. </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">It drizzled for our walk from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Cellettes</span></span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Chauds</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">sur</span></span> Loire. As we passed a private estate, the owner stopped us so he could inform us of the significance of the road we were taking. It turns out the pathway was used by Charlemagne. The estate owner also told us that he was a son of the American Revolution, as his family had helped fight the British.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">My part of the trip ended at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Amboise</span></span>. My parents had another week of walking and went on to Tours. Our last day together was a little hectic since it poured and we ended up walking a lot more than we planned. Two things I learned that day: 1) my high school lacrosse windbreaker is not waterproof and 2) a 17-year old guide book can miss updates to the GR.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpSCiGcN585tUlVqvwjXF70xIaoSkRTUqSKXubaMCU50nk-iifqtcODlDwJLkR13e2EAdfCLTkVNZoWbjqa-wnwayPpifwEuu8mePgt8Ed3-k3UHUxoUnUkANzbwxtuKPX0XZ6AmARDay/s1600-h/MD.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpSCiGcN585tUlVqvwjXF70xIaoSkRTUqSKXubaMCU50nk-iifqtcODlDwJLkR13e2EAdfCLTkVNZoWbjqa-wnwayPpifwEuu8mePgt8Ed3-k3UHUxoUnUkANzbwxtuKPX0XZ6AmARDay/s400/MD.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124368978654760370" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">This part of my two-month trip was one of the most important to me. You probably couldn't guess from the photo but my dad just turned 80 years old. Parts of the walk were difficult and I thought it would be stressful for him. My dad reassured me that he was really enjoying himself and the fact that this may be their last trip to France (my parents travel quite a lot and have many destinations on their list) made it especially dear to him. Our parents do so much for us and I've often found it difficult to find a way to show mine how grateful I am for our relationship. My parents recently told me that they both felt this was their best trip to France. Mission accomplished.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">My photos are <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602566716350/"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">here</span></a>. My dad is a much better photographer than I am and his photos are <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/14819366@N03/sets/72157602353560484/">here</a>.<br /></span><br /></span></span></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-568957392564400812007-10-21T19:23:00.001-07:002008-11-18T17:09:48.480-08:009/10 - 9/15 City of Lights<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIiySj_4brQftBrR1s8cy1W2uuhwwN4oZ_qjweLAJU3npXzRHn91bd6Q5Qip6esHL2D1twr6hrc7biPErXJ4rDFKhsf4yXtsehfMuD0PIDSlPwUW1IcUnITazntsbl5SaAozyrYltGCwH/s1600-h/Metro+Sign.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIiySj_4brQftBrR1s8cy1W2uuhwwN4oZ_qjweLAJU3npXzRHn91bd6Q5Qip6esHL2D1twr6hrc7biPErXJ4rDFKhsf4yXtsehfMuD0PIDSlPwUW1IcUnITazntsbl5SaAozyrYltGCwH/s200/Metro+Sign.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123999650122009826" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">After a long flight from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">UB</span>, I arrived in Paris in the late afternoon on 9/10. The bustling streets could not have been a greater contrast to the humble Mongolian countryside.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">My hotel was in Montparnasse, best known for having</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> hosted expat American writers such as Hemingway. Its bars, restaurants a</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">nd metro access made it a great neighborhood to stay in for the week. I'd been to Paris once before but for a very short stay. My friend Amy and I visited one of her friends who had returned to France after living in Boston. Laurent was a fantastic host and during our three days there, I fell in love with Paris. This week was a chance to find out more about this incredibly beautiful and lively place.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpqip838lAsixfAmBFKTDGZoxAB8TOnrFsDEQFTK5O3pYGl3tGWZ4aWV46r_HYIa1ub-1wHtM9Y9bfrVglTQquz1q6dgYaFJ3V8Nt1c085GpQ1mKEIP2EzdYX0wFkCPp60h60t5fnY9vw/s1600-h/nov+2006+075.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpqip838lAsixfAmBFKTDGZoxAB8TOnrFsDEQFTK5O3pYGl3tGWZ4aWV46r_HYIa1ub-1wHtM9Y9bfrVglTQquz1q6dgYaFJ3V8Nt1c085GpQ1mKEIP2EzdYX0wFkCPp60h60t5fnY9vw/s200/nov+2006+075.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124000058143902962" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I spent most of my time walking in neighborho</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">ods and</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">visiting </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">mu</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">seums.</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Almost</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> everyone suggested I visit the Musee d'Orsay since I missed it on my first trip. Their collection is indeed very impressive but I was annoyed by the layout of the space. For those unfamiliar, the d'Orsay is in a converted railroad station. The central space is dedicated to sculpture while small rooms to the side house paintings and</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> drawings. It was a treat to see so many works by French masters in one space though. Of all the museums I visited, I was pleasantly surprised that my favorite turned out to be Musee de l'Orangerie. The building i</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73XQG0LSqfcl_0_PKYPmbTpIQUZMNUYYfPtm9lY8JRhOMDFiGoB3Yars9BO0UqJF7oY1cVjhgZ7V1LEOJ_IOqJ2uYjsyw6Azrkwg9qbg4QEIEDAXNDHoz2qSMKJw7h99hY0u5KHSmUsmh/s1600-h/nov+2006+098.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73XQG0LSqfcl_0_PKYPmbTpIQUZMNUYYfPtm9lY8JRhOMDFiGoB3Yars9BO0UqJF7oY1cVjhgZ7V1LEOJ_IOqJ2uYjsyw6Azrkwg9qbg4QEIEDAXNDHoz2qSMKJw7h99hY0u5KHSmUsmh/s200/nov+2006+098.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124000637964487938" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">tself is so plain, it's easy to overlook it walking through the Jardin des Tuileries on your way to the Place de la Concorde. Its main attraction is Monet's water lily series. Two large oval-shaped rooms each feature enormous paintings on three walls. The genius is in the presentati</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">on since the l'Orangerie is flooded with natural light provided by wide skylight windows. It was a fantastic way to look at the seminal works. The basement is home to Walter Guillaume's collection of paintings by artists of the Ecole de Paris, from the late Impressionist period to the interwar period. It was incredible to see choice pieces by Cezanne, Modigliani, Picasso, Matisse and others.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5yz-QPq-K1avsytudwsU7ub7_XN_fIPAC7MlYkERl83Ek0T9yi6ve1FW-vvImsQ72YvPpm7uGL3dHoD-yFypFhk_JirmDY027wDbYgjXf91rS-PP9yZ8Yc0adVMwMPLNtjTttSmgOx_7/s1600-h/nov+2006+091.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5yz-QPq-K1avsytudwsU7ub7_XN_fIPAC7MlYkERl83Ek0T9yi6ve1FW-vvImsQ72YvPpm7uGL3dHoD-yFypFhk_JirmDY027wDbYgjXf91rS-PP9yZ8Yc0adVMwMPLNtjTttSmgOx_7/s200/nov+2006+091.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124001690231475474" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">As easy as it is to explore Paris, it can get lonely going it alone. </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">To give my</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">self </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">a chance to say more than "bon jour" and "merci" for a few hours, I joined a free walking tour. In approximately four hours, the tour highlights the major points of interest. Our tour guide Sara, a British expat studying French lit, was hilarious and had an impressive knowledge of the history of the city. I highly recommend <a href="http://newparistours.com/">New Paris Tours</a> as a way to quickly familiarize yourself with central Paris.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Knowing I had an additional week in Paris at the end of the month let me take it easy the first week. I was looking forward to meeting my parents on Saturday for our walking tour of the Loire Valley.</span></span><br /></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-68013947636372467062007-09-25T18:03:00.000-07:002008-11-18T17:09:48.669-08:009/7 to 9/10 Final Days<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5Xrpw1qbiaqGv32lRihCRfSZsX95VduAc6tlxE4kZat_3NmXa4oOdcxoaanB3C5mEoDuhbKY5YEy3qhpiw300-tqO-REVlcrwr-tWWzgEs__Z7-2gmomfa33foHylijkv06QZkgiz-e3/s1600-h/nov+2006+231.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5Xrpw1qbiaqGv32lRihCRfSZsX95VduAc6tlxE4kZat_3NmXa4oOdcxoaanB3C5mEoDuhbKY5YEy3qhpiw300-tqO-REVlcrwr-tWWzgEs__Z7-2gmomfa33foHylijkv06QZkgiz-e3/s400/nov+2006+231.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123978488818142418" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">9/7 was a day of leisure. We had the option to ride which most took up. I had caught what turned out to be a stomach virus and rested. The weather and scenery made for a pleasant day off. In the afternoon we visited </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen's</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size:85%;">ger</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> and family. The little boy in the photos is his son but really his grandson. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen's</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> son is either not going into the family business and/or lives far away. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> and his wife adopted their grandson in order to teach him the ways so he may one day inherit the herds of </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-size:85%;">sheeps</span><span style="font-size:85%;">, goats, yaks and, of course, horses.<br /><br /></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen's</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> son was much less shy than the other kids we met. It may be because he's met all the other non Mongolians who have been on tour. Past participants have sent batches of photos back and he pleaded </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> to put a photo of him in the front. The conversation went as follows:<br /><br />Son: Put this picture in the front.<br /></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;">: There's room for it in the back.<br />S: No! Put it in the front.<br />J: How about the middle?<br />S: No one's going to see it if it's in the middle!<br />J: Okay, I'll put it in the front.<br /></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen's</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> Wife: Oh, just put the album away! We have company and you're being rude.<br /><br />It played like a sitcom. At least it was more productive than my conversations with </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" style="font-size:85%;">Bootsy</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> that went like this:<br /><br />Jackie: Okay, time to canter! Come on, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" style="font-size:85%;">Bootsy</span><span style="font-size:85%;">! </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" style="font-size:85%;">Tro</span><span style="font-size:85%;">, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" style="font-size:85%;">tro</span><span style="font-size:85%;">! </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" style="font-size:85%;">Tro</span><span style="font-size:85%;">, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" style="font-size:85%;">tro</span><span style="font-size:85%;">!<br /></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" style="font-size:85%;">Bootsy</span><span style="font-size:85%;">: Um, no.<br />J: PLEASE!<br />B: Nope.<br />J: Here comes the whip...<br />B: All </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" style="font-size:85%;">righty</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> then.<br />(30 seconds later.)<br />J: Oh come on!<br />B: </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" style="font-size:85%;">Hehe</span><span style="font-size:85%;">.<br /><br />The next day we had to say good-bye to </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" style="font-size:85%;">Dogii</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> (and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" style="font-size:85%;">Bootsy</span><span style="font-size:85%;">). We were all pretty sad since who knows if our paths will cross again, even if we return to Mongolia. We wished them luck for the coming months and were off for a drive to "Piece of Sand", an area at the very edge of the Gobi. We had a chance to ride camels but I passed. It was entertaining to watch Jim and Katie try to manage the animals though. Listening to the camels made me think of Star Wars. In fact, we found postcards of costumes worn by Mongolian princesses and clearly George </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" style="font-size:85%;">Lucas's</span> costume designers borrowed heavily for princess <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" style="font-size:85%;">Amidala</span><span style="font-size:85%;">.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuzke9ufqcWjSye50l6twMvwbW2DW4XjdV9IoPASWyqFH5fjPC8WragsSloDHDUXNkG97LAbTl7B6LxSl6K7vsM88hL_EDSYEhbSkKDqmetOJjj-GzaldL6OZXPGIeNqwJM5nE7drWMta/s1600-h/nov+2006+222.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuzke9ufqcWjSye50l6twMvwbW2DW4XjdV9IoPASWyqFH5fjPC8WragsSloDHDUXNkG97LAbTl7B6LxSl6K7vsM88hL_EDSYEhbSkKDqmetOJjj-GzaldL6OZXPGIeNqwJM5nE7drWMta/s400/nov+2006+222.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124005826284981538" border="0" /></a>The following day was spent driving back to </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" style="font-size:85%;">UB</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> on terrible roads. It didn't take as long as the first day out but it was just as uncomfortable. We got back in time for me to check out the main square very briefly. Then we saw a performance of traditional song and dance.<br /><br />As I mentioned before, the staff at <a href="http://www.nomads.mn/">Nomads</a> really took care of us well. I had never been on an organized tour like that so it was a nice first experience. Everyone was friendly and respectful and the participants all agreed that Mongolia more than lived up to our expectations. I went away with a desire to see much more of the country (we only covered a small part of central Mongolia) and a definite plan to return. The people of the countryside were all incredibly warm and welcoming. Almost everyone asked if I was Mongolian and didn't believe </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" style="font-size:85%;">Mishidma</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> when she told them I wasn't. This was really the first time people have had that kind of reaction. In Korea I am always asked if I'm Chinese or Japanese. I will think back to this trip very fondly and hope to get back to Mongolia soon.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Here is the link to the last of the photos. I ran out of juice the last few days and had to eek out photos with my other camera: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153514067/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153514067/</a></span></div></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-18999290632313648362007-09-25T17:15:00.000-07:002008-11-18T17:09:48.861-08:009/6 Final Day of Riding - Orkhon Waterfall<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyg69VEchoqcOon5F6cDrJ3ulF1lostMf2GrH439xZqIjz3yX2XrfNbbIog_9LW8JOhdahH8U8Z1z5kqKkrVxY0eUzztwwIXP7OqMj-1Ts9TnwP9_NFvEXY5qNOLlYtaLArvDAYXyjrQt/s1600-h/nov+2006+230.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyg69VEchoqcOon5F6cDrJ3ulF1lostMf2GrH439xZqIjz3yX2XrfNbbIog_9LW8JOhdahH8U8Z1z5kqKkrVxY0eUzztwwIXP7OqMj-1Ts9TnwP9_NFvEXY5qNOLlYtaLArvDAYXyjrQt/s400/nov+2006+230.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123977299112201394" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Today is the official final day of riding. We have the option to ride tomorrow though. We got a late start since the horses all ran home in the middle of the night. Turns out </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size:85%;">Dogii</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size:85%;">Jerdallen's</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-size:85%;">gers</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> are about 15 km away so they knew their way back. While </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-size:85%;">Dogii</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> went back to retrieve them, we visited a family in a nearby </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-size:85%;">ger</span><span style="font-size:85%;">. The father and older daughter had gone off to visit another family so the mother and younger daughter greeted us. The girl was very shy at first but finally opened up for photos. The </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-size:85%;">ger</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> was very clean and the mother was preparing milk to make butter, cheese and vodka. The furniture, including the roof beams, was all hand painted by the woman's brother-in-law. Orange is often used to brighten the interior.<br /><br />When the horses were all back we rode to </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style="font-size:85%;">Orkhon</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> Waterfall, the largest in Mongolia. On the way to camp we stopped at </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style="font-size:85%;">Dogii's</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" style="font-size:85%;">ger</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> and met his family. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" style="font-size:85%;">Dogii</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> was an extra in a music video of one of Mongolia's most popular entertainers. He tried to find the video but sang for us instead. I am trying to upload the video of him singing a song about being 18 years old. The words are all about the trials of being that age and trying to figure out who you are. His father also sang for us. He also had a fantastic voice. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> said their whole family could sing well. They wanted us to sing a song popular in our respective countries but none of us dared to follow their performances. Somehow I don't think my rendition of "Umbrella" would be a positive representation of American pop culture.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Here is the link to photos from Day 8: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153450829/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153450829/</a></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-62396374167818927982007-09-25T16:52:00.000-07:002008-11-18T17:09:48.948-08:009/5 Tovkhon Monastery and Orkhan River<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLclKukwkL5JvCkfzrLj1qbvx5lPczqo1OuW0bCpguckMQufO_aHzrzzDDBy-oouN9Kzzv5NnKCIgsJZvgEGRlPredlCvNv-TWVxSOjdMXcXYED5Zy45UTp9sNIsRgx5Er-C6XcpfoGa-/s1600-h/nov+2006+229.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLclKukwkL5JvCkfzrLj1qbvx5lPczqo1OuW0bCpguckMQufO_aHzrzzDDBy-oouN9Kzzv5NnKCIgsJZvgEGRlPredlCvNv-TWVxSOjdMXcXYED5Zy45UTp9sNIsRgx5Er-C6XcpfoGa-/s400/nov+2006+229.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123976757946322082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Today we rode to</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Tovkhon</span> Monastery which is on top of a mountain. At least it wasn't too hot for the horses since it was tree covered. Four monks were still there when we arrived. Others had gone to another temple for the winter. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Tovkhon</span> holds significant historic importance since it is where the first religious king of Mongolia, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ondor</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Gegeen</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Zanabazar</span>, worked and lived. It is said that he prayed alone in a cave at the very top of the mountain. The adventurous ones climbed to it. The rest of us decided to wait for the photos. We also went inside the temple which was modest in comparison to the interiors of those of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Erdenezuu</span>. After lunch we rode down the mountain and then up another, smaller mountain. We were back to camping riverside after riding along the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Orkhan</span> River. Another beautiful camp site.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />Here is the link to the photos from Day 7: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602144881328/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602144881328/</a></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-62312972318400316662007-09-25T16:40:00.000-07:002008-11-18T17:09:49.084-08:009/4 Urt Bulag Valley<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV72qb6wmQZRCeGVT3EwUVDKMu8sV6Ps04aP933zGC6bLSISN05tqb8HLfKkWeIc1KoVswLnrbak0LzDGOHoE65GNuduqLz5jG0jc_6Url2CDyuj28axYrwlMd0p01qD69AxkxhGEZevBl/s1600-h/nov+2006+228.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV72qb6wmQZRCeGVT3EwUVDKMu8sV6Ps04aP933zGC6bLSISN05tqb8HLfKkWeIc1KoVswLnrbak0LzDGOHoE65GNuduqLz5jG0jc_6Url2CDyuj28axYrwlMd0p01qD69AxkxhGEZevBl/s400/nov+2006+228.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123975886067960978" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;">Today we covered another 30 km and I seem to have gotten used to riding now. I decided on a sitting trot instead of trying the other options. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bootsy</span> still breaks his canter and there's nothing I seem to be able to do about that. We had a bit of miscommunication in the afternoon and I fell off when he started galloping away while I was taking a drink from my water bottle. It's not a long way to the ground so it didn't hurt and I rolled to standing right away as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Dogii</span> chased after <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Bootsy</span>. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;">In the afternoon we visited a family preparing insulation for their winter <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ger</span>. They also had solar panels. The family had two little girls and I gave the older one a stuffed horse beanie baby. She seemed very pleased and showed it off to her father when he walked in. When he asked who gave it to her, she said she forgot. Thanks, kid! Her parents seemed quite young. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Mishidma</span> said they've broken with the tradition of arranged marriages and now young men scope out the ladies, though they have a lot of distance to cover on their motorcycles and horses.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;">The ride to camp was quite short and we were no longer by a river. Our tents were set up on top of a tree covered mountain. It was Lisa's birthday so the cook made a cake. We still can't figure out how she baked a strawberry shortcake without an oven. I managed to stay up past 9:30 and saw the stars. You could see everything, according to Katie. I don't know anything about stars and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">constellations</span> but all I know is that the sky was covered. We saw a number of shooting stars as well.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;">Here's the link to photos from Day 6: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602144397002/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602144397002/</a></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-6551608251032152272007-09-25T16:00:00.000-07:002008-11-18T17:09:49.232-08:009/3 Kharkhorum<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPi6ZFCV_WKCvwmOgVC2IlpeB_e69noDasZedAVc4X-DU6kEb6g33wi1ymWZ2Xs3Vqo4he51hU9M88wegR5Edg-P3rkmomYkU5fR5m1IxXJwbYQbPN5vIXBg6eTfnnQP2H1P_NGPEXoNI/s1600-h/nov+2006+227.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPi6ZFCV_WKCvwmOgVC2IlpeB_e69noDasZedAVc4X-DU6kEb6g33wi1ymWZ2Xs3Vqo4he51hU9M88wegR5Edg-P3rkmomYkU5fR5m1IxXJwbYQbPN5vIXBg6eTfnnQP2H1P_NGPEXoNI/s400/nov+2006+227.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123975435096394882" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Today we rode to into <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kharkhorum</span> in the morning. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kharkhorum</span> is where <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Chinggis</span> Khan launched his <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">cavalry</span> to set off to conquer and create one of the greatest civilizations. What stands now is a small local township and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Erdenezuu</span> Monastery. A description from our itinerary: "The monastery was built in 1586 and is surrounded by a massive 400m x 400m wall. Not a single nail was used in the construction of the ornate temples only a few of which remain standing after the communist purges. In previous times the grounds held over 60 temples with 10,000 monks using them for their daily worship." After religious tolerance was restored in 1990, Mongolians rebuilt the temples that stand now from ruins of the old temples which the monks and towns people hid at great risk to their own lives. 108 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">stuppas</span> surround the grounds. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Annika</span> and I met a British woman who has been living in Mongolia for four years, volunteering with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">VSO</span> to help with the running of the monastery. She told us that the young monks had been in prayer for over 24 hours when we arrived. We saw one monk talking on his cell phone. I guess you can get reception there.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">In the afternoon we rode to our lunch stop which was in an amazing valley. The poor horses had to climb up and down a rather steep mountain and cross a rushing river. I almost fell into the river because I lost my left <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">stirrup</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Bootsy</span> was his taking his sweet time, per usual. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Jergdallen</span> thought that was funny. After lunch we set off on some flat land and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Bootsy</span> and I got lots of cantering in. On our way to camp we visited with a very friendly family. There were nine children in the multi-generational <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">gerhold</span> and the youngest, a seven month old, looked like a baby Buddha. The family invited us in and offered us <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">airag</span>, cheese, butter and vodka made of mare's milk. It tasted like water with a faint taste of medicine. Every family makes it so I guess it's like moonshine. We took a lot of photographs of the family and children (after asking for permission, of course) and the kids loved seeing their photos on our digital camera screens.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Our camp was riverside and the scenery matched the Mongolia of my imagination before I came on this trip. People have asked, "Why Mongolia?" and I hope my photos of the landscapes answer that question. I feel its countryside is one of the last untouched places and nowadays it is rare to glimpse a way of life so vastly different from your own. Even though you can find <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">gers</span> with solar panels and televisions, the nomad's way of life is fascinating. Mongolian nomads move every season. They take everything, including the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">gers</span> and their herds, and find a new location for spring, summer, fall and winter. In fact, many of the families we visited were preparing for their autumn move. There is no land ownership in the countryside and families keep a respectful distance between each other. Nothing is written down but there seems to be a general understanding and social contract.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />Here is the link to photos from Day 5: </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153412389/"><span style="font-family:verdana;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153412389/</span></a></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-42640295524197514222007-09-25T15:15:00.000-07:002008-05-05T09:00:55.676-07:009/2 Ow! Ow! Ow!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;">As anyone who has ridden a horse knows, the second day of riding is absolutely the worst. Your whole body hurts but especially your butt and inner thighs. Mine were bruised already and I felt so very sorry for myself. On our second day of riding, we covered 20km in the morning and 10 km in the afternoon. Whatever feeling I had left in my butt in the morning was completely gone by the afternoon. Of course that is when Bootsy decided to wake up and be energetic. Great. But we did some galloping on long stretches of flat land and it was fantastic. I had forgotten how much fun it is to ride.<br /><br />The landscape is striking. The mountains look like drapes of green velvet. Contrasted against the blue sky, it is the very definition of picturesque. We ran into many herds of cows, horses, sheep and goats being tended to by men on motorcycles, the modern method.<br /><br />It was incredibly hot and not a cloud appeared in the sky. It was very nice to have our camp all set up and waiting for us, including a shower tent.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Here is the link to the photos from Days 3 and 4: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153342707/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153342707/</a></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-15043562474521863982007-09-25T15:10:00.001-07:002008-11-18T17:09:49.395-08:009/1 First Day of Riding<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7yb8SRNtQlHAbZ9YJvlc2xKnmuwAtI6cGAF4UdlO_GyCUY_tUxzLgx6YnF1rCQGNLEF9GREMUCXuB71u2HI3lpvEFqBTEF_mantpxtepVeHonPbmXolpk7HsnQeVc41oQvWIG0jaR0tx/s1600-h/nov+2006+224.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7yb8SRNtQlHAbZ9YJvlc2xKnmuwAtI6cGAF4UdlO_GyCUY_tUxzLgx6YnF1rCQGNLEF9GREMUCXuB71u2HI3lpvEFqBTEF_mantpxtepVeHonPbmXolpk7HsnQeVc41oQvWIG0jaR0tx/s400/nov+2006+224.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123974331289799778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Mongolian horses are </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size:85%;">noticeably</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> smaller than horses in the US. Normally you'd ride a horse that is 17 hands tall in the States and an average Mongolian horse measures 13 hands. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> is </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-size:85%;">Dogii's</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> uncle and their summer </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-size:85%;">gers</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> are set up close to each other. I learned that </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> is 50 and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-size:85%;">Dogii</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> is 20. I thought Dogii was 17 when I first saw him. Turns out he's married and has a five month old son. I felt kind of bad when I found out his name. I had been calling out to the mutts following us, "Doggy, doggy! Here doggy, doggy!" I <em>wondered</em> why he kept looking over when I did that.<br /><br />On our first day of riding, we covered 17 km in the morning and 13km in the afternoon. Our path was toward Karakorum, the first capital of unified Mongolia. (</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-size:85%;">Chinggis</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> Khan started the building effort with one of his sons completing it.) The first thing you notice while riding through the steppes of Mongolia is the sky. Mongolia means "The Land of Blue Sky" and no wonder. You'll see what I mean in the photos.<br /><br />The weather was desert-like with hot days and cold nights. There is virtually no humidity. A little breeze would have been nice for the horses. The gait of Mongolian horses makes it difficult to do a posting trot so I spent the first two days trying to find a comfortable position. I gave up on the third day and just did a sitting trot or rode two point but that was tiring. My overall solution was to go directly into a canter but </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style="font-size:85%;">Bootsy</span><span style="font-size:85%;">, my horse, was a lazy bastard and broke his canter whenever he could. By the afternoon of the first day </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style="font-size:85%;">Jagdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> gave me a whip. I don't like using whips but it's hard work trying to get a horse to keep </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" style="font-size:85%;">cantering</span><span style="font-size:85%;">. Plus, I got tired of always bringing up the rear. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" style="font-size:85%;">Bootsy</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> really liked being dead last.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Another beautiful camp site awaited us and I got some decent shots of the sunset. Here's the link to photos from Days 1 and 2: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153315677/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153315677/</a></span>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-50034445354004295032007-09-25T15:10:00.000-07:002008-11-18T17:09:49.588-08:008/31 Driving to Ogii Nuur Lake<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0oDUya5TB8FudCj5K_A0mWy3u8MUtYgsQ4EKlbPAPdUAF0QQ5vAJrC2nQinCDzMZ1DPHeLYul1JJJJt3MF_g30iWLRosEnZe_nKQMC1kxFFMdjI_t2gte_PyjRdnOepQS-uKttCN8-Wx/s1600-h/nov+2006+223.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0oDUya5TB8FudCj5K_A0mWy3u8MUtYgsQ4EKlbPAPdUAF0QQ5vAJrC2nQinCDzMZ1DPHeLYul1JJJJt3MF_g30iWLRosEnZe_nKQMC1kxFFMdjI_t2gte_PyjRdnOepQS-uKttCN8-Wx/s400/nov+2006+223.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123972982670068818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Our first day was spent driving the 360km to </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size:85%;">Ogii</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size:85%;">Nuur</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> Lake where we were to make camp. The drive was incredibly bumpy and we had to take motion sickness pills to get through it. To give you some perspective, it took us nearly 10 hours, not counting our stops for lunch and to check our horses, a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-size:85%;">euphemism</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> for needing a restroom. Mongolia is as untouched as they come so the rest stops were aplenty.<br /><br />The lake was beautiful and we camped right up against it. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-size:85%;">Annika</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> took a dip, saying it was completely normal to jump in a freezing cold lake since she's Swedish...which brings me to the other participants. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-size:85%;">Annika</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> lives in Thailand with her family due to her husband's work in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-size:85%;">telecom</span><span style="font-size:85%;">. Daniel is Belgian, spending a month in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-size:85%;">Mongolia</span><span style="font-size:85%;">. He is a stage lighting technician and his next project will be the opera in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style="font-size:85%;">Monaco</span><span style="font-size:85%;">. Jim and Lisa are a married couple from the UK. Jim works in special effects for movies (and knows </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style="font-size:85%;">GKR</span><span style="font-size:85%;">!) and Lisa has a business creating invitations. Katie is an American who has been living in Tokyo for the last year and a half, first teaching English and then working at an equestrian club. She was the most experienced out of all of us and often raced with the herdsmen. Crazy. The herdsmen, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" style="font-size:85%;">Dogii</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" style="font-size:85%;">Jergdallen</span><span style="font-size:85%;">, arrived with our horses as our tents were being set up. Nomads, our tour company, really took care of us. Our tents were always waiting for us and all of our meals were excellent. I was a little concerned that it would be all mutton all the time in Mongolia but Nomads puts their cooks through a two week training program to ensure great meals. We had anything from deviled eggs with caviar and crepes for breakfast; cheeseburgers for lunch; and spaghetti with </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" style="font-size:85%;">meat</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> sauce for dinner.</span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /></span></div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54764455@N00/sets/72157602153315677/"></a>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9090127511046852723.post-10733443330361154752007-09-14T07:03:00.000-07:002008-05-05T09:01:57.212-07:008/29 - 8/30 SF to Ulaanbaatar<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">After a great send off by my SF friends, I started my adventures on 8/29. Factoring in the time difference and travel, I had to dedicate two days to get to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ulaanbaatar</span>, the capital of Mongolia. The very long journey was only broken up by a layover in Inchon Airport in Seoul where my friend Nancy met me. There was only one hitch. Since I was in the transfer area and couldn't exit the airport, we had to "talk" through a thick slab of glass. It was kind of like getting a visitor in jail except we didn't have the luxury of a telephone. We spent the next hour writing messages to each other. I could see the passersby staring at Nancy and making comments. I was waiting for airport security to descend any minute. Other than that inconvenience, Inchon is a very nice <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">airport</span>. When you're hopping from one country to another, airports become quite important. Little did I know that I would have a few choice words about the Moscow <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Intl</span> Airport.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Fast forward many hours and I arrived in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ulaanbaatar</span> at 10:30pm on 8/30. There was a bit of confusion at Immigration since the agent couldn't quite make out why I have a face that doesn't match the name. I offered him my California drivers license. He still looked confused but let me through anyway. I was met by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Michidmaa</span>, our tour guide and translator, who told me immediately that I look Mongolian. This became a common theme throughout the trip.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Driving into <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ulaanbaatar</span> proper, the first thing you notice is that the highway is a narrow two lane path. At least it was paved. Turns out paved roads are far and few between in Mongolia. The most random sight I caught on the drive in was an Esprit store.</span></div>Jackie in NYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08787487641903497654noreply@blogger.com1