Travel is Fatal

When a Righteous Man Goes to Israel

When Israel came out of Egypt,
   Jacob from a people of foreign tongue, 
Judah became God’s sanctuary,
   Israel his dominion. (Psalm 114:1-2)

God: What are you doing now?
King Arthur: Averting our eyes, oh Lord. 
God: Well, don't. It's just like those miserable psalms, always so depressing. Now knock it off! (Monty Python)

It's been a few days since I've updated, and I extend my sincerest apologies to my devoted reader.^*As soon as we got back from Galilee, we started a morning class/afternoon excursion pattern which left little time for wrestling with wireless LANs in the computer lab. (This may or may not have been further exacerbated by the rather athletic challenge posed by the multitude of reserved books hidden in a library which hadn't been properly catalogued in years, with only an ill-loved card catalogue as our guide.)

We've spent most of the past few days exploring the older parts of Jerusalem. In two days, we hit up the holy sites of 4 major religions- Judaism, Islam, Christianity- Catholicism, and Christianity- Evangelism. The last two were especially exciting.

On Saturday morning, we went to the Garden Tomb, which is one of two sites thought to possibly be the site of Jesus' crucifixion, death, and resurrection. Apparently the land was purchased by an evangelical group who was looking for the residence of Joseph of Aramatheia, but discovered a 1st-century Jewish tomb on the property during the course of excavations and decided that since there was a kind of a skull-shaped rock nearby that the tomb was probably that of Jesus.

 
(Skull-shaped outcropping near the Garden Tomb)

 Now, I'm not saying that it's a spurious and fanciful claim that disregards the historical landscape and architecture of first century Jerusalem or anything, but one must maintain one's academically-appropriate skepticism. Still, the garden was very pretty, the tomb was cool and had clearly been used for some sort of Christian gathering early in Church history, and the endless rounds of "Our God is an Awesome God" was very uplifting and not at all annoying. Even after the 300,000^th repetition.

 
(Cross inscribed on the inside of the tomb.)

 

The next day, we headed over to the other proposed momentary-resting place of Jesus: the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem. We were lucky enough to celebrate Mass in the Crusader's Chapel, which was an unforgettable experience. (I'll put up pictures as soon as I steal them from someone.) After Mass, we wandered around the church, taking in the bizarrely beautiful mix of Constantinian, Byzantine, and Crusader architecture, which was further complicated by the presence of six different Christian groups, all vying for worship/interior decorating space. It was like walking around in Gradma's Sanctified Attic of WONDER.

 
(Entrance to the tomb shows decided Greek Orthodox influence)

Oddly, although the Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, Syrians, Copts, Ethiopians, and Armenians all have use of the Church, it's a Muslim family in Jerusalem that holds the keys to the Church's doors. Huh.

From the Church, we walked up (and down and up and down) to the Western Wall of the Temple Mount. There, I could finally, finally see what I had waited so many years to see- the subject of Mighty Moe Roger's epic song "Blues is My Wailing Wall." (Hear the song here.) Actually, I only actually saw half of the wall, since access to it is still segregated by sex. The part I saw was incredibly impressive, though, to be honest. And the number of people who came just to touch the wall was impressive. A lovely experience, even if I couldn't quite shake the feeling that the men's side was probably cooler.

 
(Approaching the women's side)

Finally, to top off the day (kinda literally),our group headed up to the Temple Mount. Originally the site of the massive Herodian Temple, it was all destroyed by the Romans in 70CE. 600-odd years later, the Muslims under the Umayyad caliphs built the Dome of the Rock, and that's all she wrote. Although the Israelis technically control the Temple Mount, the Dome remains under Muslim administration... as evidenced by the Skank Police who refuse admittance to anyone showing knees, upper arms, or collarbones.

 
(Dome of the Rock)

  
(All of us at the Dome of the Rock. Note the girl wearing a man's shirt on the far right? One of the guys literally gave her the shirt of his back because she was dressed like a skank... er, had a slightly too-sheer sweater over her dress.) 

Well. There is much more to tell, but little time to tell it in. Tomorrow we have our final exam, this weekend we write our final papers, and then it's back to the United States on Monday. I'll try to get in one more update before we leave- maybe talk about some of the other archaeological sites at the Herodian and Caesarea Maratima (lots of rocks).

Much love from God's (really hot and very brown) sanctuary in Judah.

 

*Not a typo

**Many thanks to my comrades in studies for contributing their beautifully high-resolution pictures 

Welcome to... SURVIVOR: GALILEE

"On a large enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." -Chuck Palahniuk

During certain endeavors, this survival rate may fall more quickly than at other times. One such hazardous endeavor (apparently) is sightseeing in Galilee. For the past three days there have been no blog updates, emails, or episodes of the Colbert Report. Rather, with my comrades at my side, I have traveled to the Frynges of Civilizatione! Together we have braved landmines and border patrols, giganticgriffon vultures and malevolent microbes, vertigo-inducing cliff hikes and baking archaeological digs. (And, you know, rolling green hills, banana plantations, and the pseudo-tropical Sea of Galilee. But the dangerous, melodramatic stuff was there, too...)

This is not to say that previous expeditions have been without their perils- we almost lost Lisa to the ravenous, litter-bug tourists of the Dead Sea. The very next day, Joseph was struck down by a pernicious bacterial attack, before he could even set foot on the Temple Mount.

Thus, it was with great trepidation that we set out on our (air-conditioned bus ride) trek to the north, past where rocky Judean desert melted into rolling grasslands and on to the tropical plantations and fertile valleys of Galilee. Our first destination was the ancient city of Beth-Shean, known by the Romans as Scythopolis.

 
Overview of Scythopolis from unpleasantly elevated archaeological tell/hill in the city.

At first, it appeared that all was well. We wandered around ancient bathhouses, took in ancient street promenades, treated milennia-old archaeological treasures like jungle gyms for our picture-taking amusement (cough cough Alex cough)... but we had allowed ourselves to be lulled into a false sense of security! Without warning (okay, with plenty of warning), two of our number were struck down with a (not-at-all) lethal malaise! We bravely trucked on, trying to get in the most important sites, like the theatre, the ancient public restrooms (marble seats- no joke), and the tree from Jesus Christ, Superstar.  But as more and more of our number fell victim to heat, dehydration, and disease, we were forced to return to the bus and retreat to a place of safety, where we could gather together and convelsce in peace. Yea, a place of asylum and restoration! A place like... the Golan Heights?

 
The heights of Golan. I was trying to capture one of the "Warning! Landmines!" signs, but we were driving too quickly along the hairpin turns.

After having veered perilously close to the valley of the shadow of messy and explosive death (several times) we turned into a tiny drive, lined with flowering trees, that said "Banias National Park." After having driven the rocky hills around Jerusalem, having tested the truly painful salinity of the Dead Sea, and having nearly expired of heat stroke in the scorching desert at Qumran- finally! a place that made me start to understand why God may have chosen to be born in Israel.

  

Spring and waterfall at Bannias National Park. The actual theological significance was more in the temples carved into the rockface, but my camera couldn't capture those. Just enjoy the pretty pictures.

Unfortunately, we didn't have time to hike over to Nimrod Fortress (no joke- King Nimrod is in the Bible), but it's probably just as well since Lorraine almost died before we even left the park.

Five down. How many of us actually came back from Galilee? Is this actually even Jacqui writing? I have to give up this computer since there are seven people waiting for one of the two working computers at Tantur, but stay tuned next time for the exciting conclusion of...

SURVIVOR: GALILEE!

 

Freeze-dried Music

Architecture in general is frozen music ~Friedrich von Shelling

Huzzah, Israel! There's really not much to report at this time- since I've experienced little of Israel beyond customs, taxis, and guard towers- but I thought I would update with what few photos I've managed to take on my odd little disposable digital

 I actually arrived in Tel Aviv yesterday morning, and I celebrated Shabbat by exploring the area around Tantur with Lisa and then falling asleep for approximately 12 hours. Tantur is lovely- nice garden, noisy birds, cool archways, and amazing views that would nonetheless be much more impressive if the surrounding area didn't look like a giant barracks. The entire country thus far has been a study in shades of dun; every once in a while someone sneaks greyish stone or a bit of reddish roof past the National Zoning Board, but that's about it. In aesthetics versus strategic value, looks like strategy wins pretty much every time.*

The security coming into the country was actually not as bad as I'd feared. Things were looking dicey back in Newark when they cordoned off the entire area around our gate and made us go through a second round of bag searches and metal wand-waving before we could board the plane. I was having serious concerns over the metal fillings in my teeth creating some sort of national incident. My fears were hardly alleviated when, with 45 minutes left til our landing at Ben Gurion Airport, we were told by the flight crew that Israel security policies required all passangers to remain in their seats for the last 45 minutes of the flight. During the resulting stampede toward the restrooms, I couldn't help but feel that the outlook for my teeth was growing gloomy indeed 

But the airport security wasn't bad at all. Intimidation technique? I don't know, but I've had far worse trying to get into the United States 

Things did get a little dicey at passport control, when the cutsoms official asked me what I'd be doing and where I'd be staying. I explained about the class I'd be taking at Tantur, that I'd be staying for two weeks, and that I'd be residing mainly on the campus. Then I gave her my bright, boy-I'm-so-excited-to-be-in-your-country grin that worked every time in China. She just gave me a flat, disapproving glare and said in a monotone Voice of Doom 

"That is not an Israeli university"

Then, before I could give in to my sudden bizarre urge to apologize, she stamped my passport, tossed it in my general direction and barked  

Next! ...in a monotone, non-barky sort of way 

Welcome to Israel 

So that was pretty much all of the excitement. Lisa and I trundled along to Tantur in our neshwar (shared airport cab). Shabbat meant we were one of only a dozen or so cars on the road, and the one checkpoint we passed through was fast and easy- lots of very young men with very big guns waved us through with barely a glance. Unattractive, airport-tower-like structures rose out of the barbed wire every other mile or so, keeping watch over emptry highways and tiered, rocky hills. The number of guardposts decreased as we left Jerusalem for Tantur, and there's only a few of the barbed wire-enclosed areas around the University

So, to sum up- scary customs officials, intact teeth, terrible architecture and nice scenery. Further explorations await, since tomorrow we head to Mazada and the Dead Sea! Yaaay

 
 
    
Lisa posing outside Tantur. Note the rocky hill in the background which is actually a city masquerading as a sand dune

 

 

 
Yay color! Flowers in the garden at Tantur

 

 
One of the two towers which rise on either side of the gateway into Tantur

 

**

I have been informed that this barracks-style architecture is actually an architectural style known as Bauhaus. Whatever. All I'm saying is that it's okay to have more than one architectural style per country. Freeze-fried post-WWII chic is not the only way you can go with earth tones. Though Victorian houses in tan and dun? Probably not incredibly attractive

PS: Sorry about any formatting weirdness. This thing keeps trying to type right-to-left and it's driving me absolutely insane

PPS: Apologies for picture quality. It's a dispoable digital, and it's a little weird

Need to Foretell

"A politician needs the ability to foretell what is going to happen tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year. And to have the ability afterwards to explain why it didn't happen." -Winston Churchill

Dear Mr. President, while I fully support your position on the Palestinian/Israeli peace talks, and agree that again-Prime Minister Netanyahu is becoming satire-worthy in his opposition to negotiation^**... are you sure this all couldn't have waited one more teensy weensy month? I mean, I get the whole "political upheavel in the Middle East, wouldn't it look good for us to renew talks with the Palestinians" thing, but really. I'm sure the upheavel will still be around, doncha think?

So tomorrow morning I fly out for Israel, and just once I would like to enter a foreign country while it's still on good relations with the United States: France 2003- right after the invasion of Iraq; China 2006- George W; China 2008- still George W; China 2009- yaaaay Oba... oh, wait... what do you mean the yuan is deliberately undervalued? Grrr....; China 2010- shut up about Xinjiang. And now Israel 2011- pre-1967 borders are for the WEAK.

Le sigh. Clearly someone should be using my travel plans to forecast cooling attitudes toward the US. I wonder if I could put that somewhere on my resume.

 

^**See below for Capitol Steps' “Hava Nodeala” on their 1998 disk Unzippin' my Doodah (lots of Bill Clinton songs on that one, but this one with Netanyahu has always been one of my favorites):

10 Hava No Deala

 

They Take You In

"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." -Robert Frost

...and then you have to do all the housework. I've been home for about a week, and so far I've cleaned the dining room (which was stacked with Christmas presents and sewing tools a mile high), cleaned out the pantry (which my mom saves specifically for my sister every time she comes home), cleaned out the upstairs bathroom (much easier after my sister took her 85 lbs of beauty products pack to Dallas), and cleaned out my room (where the busily procreating dust bunnies were nearly the end of me). Living in a refrigerator box suddenly sounds so much more attractive.

It's been a good time to catch up with friends from home. One of my friends, especially, has had some interesting experiences while I've been away. Let me tell you her story, and then you can guess where she's gone:

*********************************

It's late night in November, and she's driving slowly, searching the dark ahead for any signs of human life. The dirt road she's on winds through forests and fields, but she can't make out any lights ahead. For a moment she's worried that she made a wrong turn, and she thinks about turning back, going home. But she's driven hours and hours to get here, and she doesn't think she can face the long road back home.

All of a sudden, she turns a corner and brakes in front of a group of darkened buildings. They're squat and oddly-shaped. There is no movement, no sign of light, no indication that anyone has ever lived there. The driveway has ended, so she assumes she's in the right place- but the area appears completely deserted.

Hesitantly, she turns off her car and climbs out, still looking around. Forest on one side, open fields on the other, and nothing but the sounds of cicadas and crickets in the air. Grabbing her duffel bag from the back seat, she slowly walks toward the nearest building.

"Hello?" she whispers, afraid that if she speaks too loudly, the sound will shatter the air around her.She searches the shadows around the buildings, but they remain still. She shifts her bag to her other shoulder and wonders what the heck she should do now.

"Heeeey!"

She whirls around, heart racing, and sees a dark form moving through the forest. She backs away toward her car. This was a bad idea. She shouldn't have come here. She's in the wrong place. She's walked into a horror film, and now some over-peppy serial killer is going to mutilate her and dump her body in the woods. Why hadn't she stayed home? Why did she ever quit missionary nun training? She closes her eyes briefly and sends up a brief prayer that she can make it out of this alive.

She opens her eyes... and stares. In front of her... it can't be. It can't, but... in front of her is... is... Jesus.

Wow, she thinks in hazy amazement. That was quick.

Jesus smiles benevolently. His hair is long and loose around his shoulders, his beard is shaggy and full, and his robes gleam in the faint light of the moon. The shine of white against dark makes him seem like a spirit drifting through the shadows.

He raises one of his hands toward her and she moves forward, entranced. He is holding something out to her, and her exhaustion-fogged brain gibbers in excitement. Receiving a gift from Jesus' hand! Can she get canonized for this? Beatified, at the very least, she assures herself woozily.

Her hand rises of its own accord to accept the tiny roll of parchment from his hand. She gazes down at it blearily, wondering what reservoirs of wisdom are contained within. The Gospel of Me! her brain giggles.

Then Jesus lifts his hands again- cups them around his mouth. Is he going to speak? she wonders excitedly. But no- a tiny flame flickers to life around his hands (magic!), illuminating features that are craggy with knowledge beyond mortal ken, and then... his mouth opens... he's going to speak...!

Jesus exhales a cloud of fragrant smoke. "Wanna light, sister?" he grins sloppily.

She looks down at the roll of parchment. Oh, crap, she thinks. Jesus is a stoner.

*********************************

And that was her introduction to a place we will call Birch Valley Commune. (I don't know about liability issues with blogs, so I'll just keep names out of it.) She had some fantastic stories from the place- conversations with students of free love, member/visitor tensions, re-naming ceremonies, orgy codes of conduct... I may be posting more about this in the future, if nothing else exciting happens. It seems a teensy bit more interesting than my ongoing war against the house gutters.

And that's all for today. Thanks for tuning in, folks.

Love Thy Enemy

"Alcohol may be man´s worst enemy, but the Bible says to love your enemy." -Frank Sinatra

I´ve been in Spain for five days, but it seems like much longer. Part of that may be because I´ve been so busy- museums, parks, historical sites, trains, sangria- but part of it is just culture shock. There are all these people here who look like waiguoren, but they don´t speak any language I understand! Add to that the fact that my Spanish is more like Spinglish, and I spend most of my time wandering about looking confused. Luckily my sister is a better linguist than me, and she keeps me from wandering down too many dark alleys.

We´re in Cordoba right now, in the heart of Andalucia, the southernmost province in Spain. It is disgustingly hot, but Hong Kong prepared me well and I´m able to get by with minimal misery. You would think that the buildings here would be built for heat, and they probably were originally. However, a lot of the Moorish architecture I´ve seen has been based on the open wall design, and modern day Spaniards tend to place higher priority on keeping their stuff intact than having a nice cross-breeze. Such a loss.

For example, today Darcy and I went to the Mezquita (the Great Mosque) of Cordoba. It was unspeakably beautiful- the first piece of architecture since the Great Wall to really take my breath away. In this case, it wasn´t the scale of the place as much as the smooth transition between the Muslim arches and the medieval cupolas, the Arabic script and the Catholic frescos. I know that the transition was not a peaceful one, and that the construction of the cathedral meant the destruction of dozens of beautiful columns, but the overall effect is still visually stunning.

Tomorrow I´m heading out to the archaeological dig of Rahman III´s tomb (or something- I´ll have to check the details), while my sister goes to some Moorish baths for a medieval-type massage. We´ll meet up for sangria before hitting up the old cathedral and the synagogue. Then it´s off to Granada for the next few days. I´ll post pictures when I get the chance.

 

Here are the long-awaited pictures from the Medina Azahara, Rahman III's palace complex north of Cordoba. I only got off a few shots before my camera broke, but the distance views give you some scope of just how amazing this place will be once they've finished the excavations... and they think they've only uncovered about 10% of the city so far!  

It Takes Two

"It takes two to get one in trouble." -Mae West

I heard somewhere that trouble comes in threes.

Trouble One- My flight from Hong Kong to Doha was delayed by 30 hours. How and why is a mystery which will be unveiled at some nebulous point in the future. Suffice to say, I was not aware of the change, and spent an hour lugging my duffle down to Central Hong Kong… just in time for the service desk to smile and direct me to a chair in the waiting lounge. There I seethed and listened to a friendly public service announcement instructing me on the proper manner to blow my nose. Sometimes I think Hong Kong is taking this whole public health craze a little too far.

Trouble Two- I returned to Maryknoll, frantically trying to contact my sister so that she wouldn’t show up 12 hours early to pick me up. I thanked God for Skype. I was using God’s name in a bit of a different way after my sister told me she had only fifty euros left to her name. Fifty. For 18 days of travel. Our hostel costs 30 euro per night for the two of us. This will all be terribly funny some day, I’m sure.

Trouble Three- Has yet to occur. I’m thinking about smashing my hand in the door, just to prevent the last unfortunate situation to occur while I’m on an airplane. Luckily, I’m sure that there are things my sister has not yet confided in me, and at least one of those things is bound to be a horrible surprise. Here’s hoping for a massive gambling debt or a rampaging Spanish boyfriend…

(Note to self: avoid Basque County.)

 

(An arch built by Carlos III to celebrate something or the other.)

Spain itself is wonderful so far- sunny, temperate, and full of people speaking a language that is somewhat intelligible to me. The Cantonese thing was really getting to me in Hong Kong. There’s been no sign of real trouble thus far. I fell on my face on the Metro, and Darcy got some weird looks when she started talking to statues at an art museum… but nothing too out of the ordinary. Maybe we’ll go to the train station on Wednesday and accidentally board the wrong train or something. We’ll see.

 

(Darcy claimed she was just asking directions to the nearest Metro.)

Maybe we'll luck out, though, and I'll go peacefully on my way with only two troubles interrupting my summer break. Though three is a more commonly heard number, I seem to remember either my mom or dad asserting that trouble comes more often in twos... and then staring very hard at my sister and I. Huh.

Thing That Cannot Be Hidden

“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”    -Buddha

Make that four things: the sun, the moon, truth, and the honking huge statue of the Amitabha Buddha on Lantau Island.

I went to the island thinking that the statue was some grand masterpiece of ancient Chinese engineering. Why, I wondered, was this 110 foot, 280 ton Buddha not listed among the wonders of the ancient world, alongside the Colossus of Rhodes and the Lighthouse at Alexandria? Looking at the picture to the right, you have to admit that it is a remarkable creation of human hands.

Sort of.

I actually found out later that is was not made by human hands, but rather by mechinized claws. The Tiantan Buddha(it's official name) was actually constructed from 1990-1993. Hardly an ancient wonder. I feel so disillusioned... though perhaps the environment around the statue should have clued me in...

Ah, well. It was a good time anyway. Getting to the statue is a bit of a trip, though. I started on a ferry from Central Hong Kong to Mui Wo on Lantau Island. Upon arrival at Mui Wo, I discovered that the only real modes of transportation on the island were the buses- which only ran once per hour. It took another 2-odd-hours to get from Mui Wo to Tai O, and from Tai O to the Po Lin Monastery near the statue. 

There were a surprising number of expats on the buses, most of them living on Lantau. One girl who worked at the local bookstore (succinctly named "Bookstore") said it was the perfect place for people who want to get away from the insanity of Hong Kong and just chill on a beach. Sitting around on a beach all day would probably drive me battier than any of the crackpots working in Hong Kong, but that's just me.

In addition to seeing the Tiantan Buddha, I was also looking forward to taking a cable car across the island; it's supposed to have some amazing views of the national parkland and the ocean. Of course, the day I choose to go to an island is the day Cyclone Soudelor decides to whistle through China's southeast, so I had to settle for the view at the top of the Buddha statue. Not bad, really.

   

                               

Mad Dogs

"Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun." -song by Noel Coward

Mad dogs, Englishmen, and stupid American tourists. Kevin and I went to the Macanese islands of Taipa and Coloane yesterday, and toasted ourselves quite nicely. We wandered around the whole day, marveling at how lovely and peaceful it all was, never stopping to think that maybe that was because all of the intelligent people were inside- away from the 98 degree heat, 300% humidity, and scorching tropical sun. I feel like I've microwaved my head.

Other than the weather, the trip was wonderful. We played intrepid adventurers and walked around the island, getting a good look at the beautiful tiled streets, the ubiquitous tiny temples and stately churches, and the lush vegetation that made me finally realize why people come to Asia for vacation.

We spent an embarrassing amount of time wandering Coloane in circles, trying to find a restaurant called Fernando's Ristonrante, which came highly recommended from several sources. In the end, though, the walk to find the restaurant was just as nice as the restaurant itself. We got to walk along pine-shaded paths, black sand beaches, verdant tropical gardens... gorgeous. In Coloane Village, we visited a few temples and a cafe, and mostly just strolled the streets, looking around.

Of course, there was also that time we missed the shuttle to A-Ma's statue because Kevin needed to get his picture taken by the Lube Stop sign. Instead of a 15-minute, air-conditioned ride, I was treated to an hour-long mountain trek with Mr Comedian nancing along beside me singing Disney songs and doing cartwheels. Jerk. At least the view from the statue was nice.

The whole trip gave me a new perspective on Macau. Before, I pretty much agreed with Kevin's classification of Macau as "Hong Kong Lite." A little less modern, a little less crowded, a little less crazy... that pretty much sums up a lot of the Peninsula. But the islands- man they're different! Taipa is starting to build up a bit more, especially the border of Cotai next to The Venetian, but it's still a pretty relaxed place. Just a bunch of kids getting their practice hours in with their driving instructors. And Coloane is so undeveloped, so residential. It's really peaceful.

And now I sound kind of like a tour guide, so I'll just post some pictures and be done with it.

Kevin in 天后官

Triumph at A-Ma Statue. A-Ma is the goddess of seafarers.

                              

Censorship Brings New Beginnings!

"The paper burns, but the words fly away."  ~Akiba ben Joseph

Good-bye Blogspot, hello TypePad.  I knew before I came to China that censorship is a bit of an issue here (like saying that gun control is a bit of an issue in Zimbabwe), but it didn't really hit home until my blog's host site was blocked for three months. Weirdly, LIvejournal (another popular bloggins site that has been blocked in China for years) came unblocked that same day. Maybe they have some sort of weird rotation schedule worked out? So many vice-ridden pixel pools of filth, so little time.

Inspired by Fr. Brian Barrons, I decided to open a TypePad account. (You can find his blog about his life in Jilin at http://www.brianbarrons.typepad.com/.) According to Fr. Brian (heretofore referred to as "Padre," "Padri," or "The Godfather"), TypePad is only "harmonized" a few times per year. The software is also a bit more advanced, so I should be able to update from a proxy server. Woots! 

It actually seems strange to be planning so far ahead. Here in Hong Kong, I feel so far away from censorship concerns. Just yesterday, Kevin Mills and I wandered down to the Star Ferry area by Harbor City on Kowloon, and there were giant placards pasted on all the columns, highlighting the abuses of the Communist Party, the torture of Falun Gong members, the oppression of minorities and human rights activists. Some of the illustrations that accompanied the placards were disturbingly graphic. Just the same, it was nice to see that people in Hong Kong can speak out without getting beaten down or arrested.

Still, I can't imagine living in Hong Kong. It's this strange mix of nature preserve and super-modern city, commercial bustle and tropical lassitude.  It's just too big for me, I guess. Too many people. I wish Radhika all the best of luck next year, but I'm just as happy that I'm going back to Jilin.

Tomorrow, Kevin and I are off to Macau. We visited part of Macau in January- the ruins of St. Paul's, St. Anthony's, St. Dominic's (lots of churches), and the Mount Fortress. Tomorrow, we hope to explore the island of Coloane, which supposedly retains more of the old Portugese influence. I'll also post some pictures next time I write. Thanks for reading!