Pearl Diving in Bahrain

This is the first of two blogs about pearl diving in Bahrain.  The second one will be from a historical standpoint. 

It's quite a story in its own right...

Waiting for the dive boat (first trip)

Loading up Mohammed's boat.  A pair of traditional fishing dhows are moored behind us.

Sitting on the rail of Mohammed’s boat, getting ready to enter the waters of the Arabian Gulf thirty miles off the coast of Bahrain, I make one last check of my scuba equipment. It is January, and the sea has cooled since my first dive here in September. The water temperature is now 70 degrees, and while that might be warm for Pacific Northwest water, it's definitely cold for these parts, where summer water temps run in the mid-80s.

This is my second dive trip in Bahrain and the first time I have been diving without Joann. It is also the first time wearing a full wetsuit. Its bulk is unfamiliar and I am having a harder time locating the regulator, the backup regulator, the air valves on my BCD (Buoyancy Compensation Device) vest, and the gauges. I am definitely the novice on this trip. Robin Bugeja, the dive master, estimates she has about 8000 dives under her weight belt.

Robin gets ready

The other two divers, John and Sian are on their first pearl dive, although they ran a diving service of their own in the past. Rob Gregory, who together with Robin own and operate PEARLDIVE, has the longest dive history of all, getting his start when he was hired by Walt Disney Studios as an underwater photographer during the 1969 filming of "Hamad and the Pirates" shot in the waters off Bahrain.  He is along on this trip to get video footage for a documentary he is putting together promoting World Heritage Site status for Bahrain’s pearl beds.

John and Sian ready to dive

Finally, I am ready. On Robin’s signal I put one hand on my mask to keep it in place, hold onto the camera lashed to my vest with the other, and tip over backward, splashing tankfirst into the sea. Surfacing, I signal everything is okay, and swim toward the line descending from the back of the boat. Sinking slowly along the line, letting air out of my BCD and equalizing the pressure in my ears and sinuses, I am soon hovering just above the bottom, 40 feet down. At the bottom of the line a weight and a net basket move slowly above the sea floor, pulled along by the boat drifting in the current.

 The weighted basket is kept off the bottom by a bright orange float bag, open on the bottom for adding air as the basket gets heavier with collected oysters. Visibility is good and I can clearly see the sandy bottom covered with clumps of oysters, small coral, and sea urchins. Thirty feet away is another line, this one hung from the front of the boat, also with weight and basket, and the two other divers, one on each side of the line, holding on with one hand and prying oysters loose from the bottom and dropping them into the basket with the other hand.

Oyster pickers

My attention today is focused more on collecting pictures, and less on collecting oysters. I want to test out the new camera I bought  yesterday. It is an Olympus Stylus Tough digital camera that claims to be waterproof down to 10 meters. We are going down to 12 meters, and I hope there is a built in fudge-factor that will keep the camera dry at that depth.

The camera still works!

Robin is the last one in and she soon joins us, checking lines, drift and divers as she goes. She has her own camera, the same model as mine and we take pictures of each other, before turning the cameras toward the scenes around us. Picking up the occasional oyster, I spend most of my time learning to manipulate the new camera underwater. The gloves I am wearing to protect my hands from the sharp edged clams and spiny urchins make me feel even more clumsy and are the first to go, tucking them into a pocket of my vest. I am woefully unfamiliar with the location of all the buttons and features and this camera is full of them, so I stick to one underwater setting and hope for the best.

Pearls in these, I'm sure

My second dive is a repeat of the first, only more productive. The current is not as strong, I am a bit more familiar with the camera. I am more relaxed and my tank of air lasts longer. After the dive, I somehow lose my snorkel as I am taking off my weight belt, tank and fins in the water before climbing the ladder back onto the boat. Robin surfaces behind me with it in her hand, having snatched it up as it floated down past her. All in a day’s work for a dive master.

Urchin-eyed Robin

Looking for pearls

Rob videos the action

It is now early afternoon and approaching time to return to the harbor. I still have a night’s work at the embassy to look forward to. In two dives John and Sian have picked up about 300 oysters. They start opening them on the boat in search of pearls while Rob videos and Mohammed utilizes some of the oyster meat to fish for dinner.

Mohammed fishes with oyster guts.  He will catch two or three fish, the largest about 12 inches. 

I manage to take several pictures, but only collect about 30 oysters. Those I will take back to my apartment and check for pearls later.

_________________________________________

On the return trip, we encounter a pod of 25 to 30 dolphins, jumping and splashing in the water ahead of us.  Dolphins are a fairly common sight in this area, but this group is especially large and playful.

Dolphin movies

Hangin' with ma

Mohammed cuts our speed to a crawl as we pass the dolphins, and he steers the boat in a large circle. The dolphins swarm around and under our boat, pacing our speed and peering up at us, jumping and showing off. For half an hour we make lazy circles, cameras clicking. Most of the pictures, of course are of empty water where dolphins just were, but I manage to capture some of the antics.  Once again I wish I was more familiar with the camera.

Under the boat

I'm not sure if I will have another chance to dive before I leave Bahrain.  February/March is the worst time of year for diving in the Arabian Gulf.  Besides the colder water temperature, the winds and currents keep the surface of the sea choppy and the underwater visibility reduced.  Good diving days are less frequent and harder to plan for with my work schedule.  Robin has taken advantage of the season and has gone to visit her Australian roots for the month.  Rob is up to his ears with video-editing.

What about those oysters I brought back?  They spend almost a week in the bottom of my fridge.  When I do get them out and open them up, I find two small pearls - both in the same oyster.  The report from John and Sian is 38 pearls out of their 300 oysters, a very good haul!

Yelapa, Mexico - Part One

Originally emailed March 23, 2005,  it was followed by part two, two days later.

I have been back to work for a couple weeks and have finally gotten all the sand out from between my toes. My tan has started to fade in a couple places, but not too badly. I have had a chance to collect my thoughts and sort my pictures, so I will send you some of each.

For anyone who might not know, I have been working at the London embassy since September '04, doing the same kind of work that I did in Beijing and Athens. On 22 Feb '05 I took a two week break from this job and traveled to Yelapa, Mexico to spend some time with Joann before she took off on a sailing trip across the Pacific.

Puerto Vallarta is at the center of the coast of the Bay of Banderas, in the state of Jalisco, Mexico. Yelapa is a small village on the southern tip of the bay, a 45 minute water taxi ride from the pier in Puerto Vallarta. Although there is a road connecting the two places, it is so bad that the water taxi is the only feasible route. This has the advantage of keeping Yelapa remote and devoid of cars (although there is a four-wheel ATV in the village for those who need an object to curse).

The warm, tropical breeze that greeted me when I got off the plane in PV was a welcome contrast to the daily snow flurries that had started in London a couple days before I left. I passed through customs and found myself standing in a sea of cab drivers eager to take me for a ride. Suddenly, I saw Joann standing by the door holding up a sign with "Juanito" scrawled on it. She had arrived in Mexico the week before, but I hadn't expected to see her until I got to Yelapa the next morning. She showed me where to catch the right bus.

The old blue and white bus, it's windshield personalized with rodeo trinkets, pictures of the young driver's family, and devotionals to the virgin Mary, ground it's gears and belched smoke as it took us on it's roundabout way to an ocean-front hotel in the old-town section of Puerto Vallarta. From there we would catch the water taxi the next morning.

By 11 am we were traveling the length of the Bay of Banderas in a "ponga," an open-topped fiberglass boat with rows of bench seats and a large outboard motor. The twenty or so passengers and their baggage would endure the whump-whump of the boat pounding through the chop and the occasional spray of seawater. Joann, having already experience a couple of trips, warned me that we should sit as close as possible to the rear where both the pounding and the spray were less intense.

Yelapa itself climbs out of the bay and up through the palms and fruit trees like a scene from an old movie. The stone and brick dwellings with red clay tile roofs alternate with open, palm-thatched palapas. Riders on burros and horses share the narrow rock-paved lanes with villagers and tourists on foot. Small cafes and casas perch on the rocks and line the arc of the beach.

The water taxi pulled right up to the north end of the beach, where some of the passengers disembarked, wading through the surf with their belongings. It then swung south, to the other end of the beach where we got off on a pier jutting out from the center of town. Joann led me up the rabbit-warren of pathways that wound between (and sometimes it seemed, through) the buildings. Soon we were climbing the stone-stepped path (182 steps - I counted!) that led up to Casa Milagros, the place that would be our home for the next two weeks.

The view from Casa Milagros was one thing that set it apart from most of the other casas. Climbing all those steps did have its advantages. Our room was on the top floor of the three story casa (add 17 more steps for a total of 201) and the roof of the second floor was our patio. To the west we could see far out into the sea. To the east we could see the entire town and beach. One other advantage of those steps was the feeling that the hike justified a big dinner at the cafe!

Antonia and Joann in the kitchen

View from the kitchen window

 

Casa Milagros is fairly typical of places to stay in Yelapa. While a couple of the rooms have private baths, most are simple rooms with screened windows (no glass) and mosquito nets over the beds. The large kitchen is shared and all guests can shop in town and cook their own meals.

Lunch on the patio.  Let's eat!

Joann and I took turns making each other breakfast burritos and sometimes lunch, but most dinners we ate in one of the many wonderful cafes in the village. Electricity is fairly new to Yelapa and the most prevalent form of lighting is still the "Yelapa Lantern", a candle stuck into a sand-filled tin can, over which is placed the chimney from an oil lamp. We were encouraged to bring a flashlight or two to negotiate the walk back to the casa after an evening's dinner and dancing.

Joann introduced me to Hugo and Antonia, our hosts at Casa Milagros.

 Hugo is a transplanted Texan who, though he has lived in Mexico for the last ten years still prefers to speak in English with his broad Texas drawl. Antonia (shown here making her wonderful ceviche) is native to the area, prefers Spanish and is very patient with those trying to learn the language. She is famous, perhaps mostly to Hugo, as the most beautiful girl from the village. Her first husband, now deceased, was an American pipeline worker who built the village's water supply piping from springs in the hills, or so the story goes.

Yelapa, Mexico - Part Two

Originally emailed March 25, 2005,


Yelapa is a hangout for artists and writers, among others. Casa Milagros, where we stayed, hosted a weekly writers meeting. One of the other guests there, Jari, was a published writer from Boston and had been there for several months working on her first novel.

Jari and Joann discuss writing (?)

By the time I got there, Joann and Jari had already become good friends. The literary air that drifted through the place could account for my desire to return to the travelogs I began when I first started working overseas. We'll see how long that lasts...

Jean and Joann at YESI

We spent three hours every weekday morning at YESI, the Yelapa English-Spanish Institute, an intensive language program, http://www.talkadventures.com/spanish/index.html 
YESI is run by Jean Hnytka, a Canadian lady who spent six months of every year in Yelapa. She has become known to some of the locals as "Jessie", the Y taking on a J sound when they read the sign in front of the path to her school. She was a fun teacher and her class was anywhere from 2 to 6 students. We sat out on the patio in front of her palapa and tried to pay attention to things like irregular preterit verb conjugations while macaws and parrots, frigate birds and vultures, hummingbirds and woodpeckers squawked, swooped, and pecked overhead. After school we walked back to our casa or down to 'la playa' (the beach), stopping along the way to pick up a few groceries at 'la tienda' (store) or checking emails at Mimi's Cafe, where, if we had to wait until the computer was free, we would be forced pass the time with a 'cervesa con limon' (beer with lime) and a bowl of chips and salsa.

Waiting for the internet

Internet cafe - Yelapa style
Notice the "Yelapa Lanterns" on the green bookcase between the arches.

Paragliding in Yelapa
The steep hills, favorable winds and thermals have made Yelapa a favorite spot for paragliders. From the time we arrived we watched a daily show of colorful wings launch, circle back and forth and land softly and gracefully on the beach. Some of the flights lasted an hour or more and the paragliders would ride the thermals up and up until they were mere specks. We watched them for several days, talked to a few of them, and learned that some of them had tandem rigs and took passengers for rides. With each other for courage, Joann and I decided we wanted to take a ride before we left.

Climbing to the launch site

Our last Saturday in Yelapa we met the paragliders at the bottom of the path up to the launch site, finalized who was riding with whom (there were three pilots and three passengers) and hiked up the hill. The parasail packs weigh about 60 pounds each and the trail is steep. The pilots have their work cut out for them just getting to the launch site.
 Once we got there we went through a short training session so everyone knew what was expected of them. The wind wasn't perfect that day so we knew it wouldn't be a long flight, but it did need to be steady enough and from the right direction long enough to get a good launch.

Spreading the wing, John on the left, Daryl, Jeff and Ross center.

The pilots determined the order of launch. Joann was to go second and myself last. The first wing was stretched out on the ground and the lines were checked and straightened. I was surprised at just how thin the lines were. They seemed much smaller than the parachute cord I was expecting to see, more like thread! Were these threads really strong enough? I went through a bit of mental calculation, trying to figure the foot/pounds of pull needed on each line to support two people, divided by the number of lines and adding a safety ratio... hmm... It occurred to me that someone must have already thought about all that, right? OK, then. I was ready! I still had plenty of time to think about it, though...

Jeff and Daryl, the first pilot and passenger, instructions and preparations completed, stood in their rigging, the sail spread out carefully on the ground behind them, looking a bit like a pair of horses in traces waiting for the slap of reins. Jeff looked around, gauging the wind by studying the colored ribbons tied to sticks at the corners of the clearing as they fluttered fitfully in the light breeze. After about fifteen minutes, they both sat down to wait for better wind. Sometimes, this is what paragliding is like, I guess. Another breeze and they were back on their feet, rigging rechecked and straightened. Now, the ribbons are streaming directly uphill. Jeff counts. For six seconds the breeze holds steady. This is it! Jeff shouts, "Run, run, run...!" They take a couple steps forward and the parasail fills with air and rises overhead. "Run, run, run...!" and they are moving down the clearing, heading straight for the bay far below. Having been warned not to stop running until told to, Daryl's legs are still pumping after they are airborne. With twenty feet of air under them, Jeff tells him to take his seat and they arc away to the right, passing behind the treeline below, returning to view after a few seconds, farther away, moving left.

Well, that went well enough. It actually does work...! Now, it is time for Ross and Joann. The steps are repeated. The sail is spread, the lines checked and straightened, the harness adjusted and checked. The last minute instructions. The lines checked again. The ribbons watched. The lines... the sail... the ribbons...waiting... Suddenly it is time. "Run, run, run..!"

Ross and Joann take off

The launch is a repeat of the previous one with one difference. As Joann settles into her seat and they make the first sweeping turn, Joann lets out one long scream, not of terror, but exhilaration.

YeeHaw...!

I was the last to go, and I stood in the harness so long, while behind me my pilot, Aldo, waited for the right moment to take off, that the others would have had enough time to climb back up the hill to see what was keeping us. After half an hour of standing there ready I looked at my watch. The best wind was usually between one and three in the afternoon. It was now after four and what wind there was came from the left, not straight up the hill.

Aldo and I wait for the wind

 Finally the wind swung to our front and held. Aldo yelled, "Run, run, run, run..." we moved forward and the wing filled with air behind us. When a wing inflates, but has yet to rise up overhead, there is a moment when it "walls". It became a tremendous force pulling backwards, threatening to pull us back with it. Aldo was still yelling, "Run, run, run..." and as the chute rose overhead, the backward pull lessened and we moved forward faster. Within a few steps my feet were no longer touching anything and as the ground fell away, Aldo told me to take my seat, which he pushed under me with his knee...

Everything became very peaceful after that. I took a couple pictures, but then I sat back and enjoyed the ride.

Yelapa from a parasail

Our flight, like the other two, was what the pilots describe as an elevator run. The lift wasn't strong enough to gain altitude, or even maintain it. It was a gradual, ten to fifteen minute downhill ride, zigzagging in graceful turns to a soft, stand-up landing on the beach. Then we were walking forward, the wing still inflated overhead until we had enough clear space behind us, then quickly back a couple steps as the red nylon collapsed onto the sand. I climbed out of the harness as Joann walked up and handed me a beer. We toasted our success and wished we could stay longer to do it again.

The next day was Sunday and the weather was worse for paragliding. Since we were leaving on Monday we knew we weren't going to get to fly again, so we stuck to our original plan, a 40 minute boat ride out to the Islas Marietas, to snorkel and explore the island's caves.

Snorkelling at Islas Marietas

Now, Joann is in the Galapagos, the first stop on her Pacific crossing. I am back in London. The weather here has improved remarkably. Spring is in the air and the sun has been shining. I will be here until mid-June, it looks like. Then who knows what's next? It's a big world...

Christmas Letter 2009

This year it was Joann's turn to pen our annual year-end update.  Here is the year-in-review from her perspective:

Sting sings "The Cold Song". It’s a fitting tribute to the season and especially to the day. Looking out the window here in Rose Valley, I see a sky that is strangely similar in color to the one that resides over Manama, Bahrain, where John is currently working. One major difference in the two skies - the one here is filled with the fog of tiny ice crystals, and the one in Manama with sand and humidity from the Persian Gulf. Each has its own unique beauty and the resulting effects on the Christmas psyche.

I must say that seeing traditionally dressed Muslim travelers at the Manama airport, looking somewhat incredulously at the Santa Claus, elves, and polar bears (the latter arranged in a traditional Bahraini dhow/sailboat), also has its own location-specific effect. "

And so begins our tale of 2009, which actually began with three months in Macedonia.

After being fortunate enough to be able to stay home for the best part of 2008, in January of 2009 John accepted a job in Macedonia, what was called in the offer letter, "the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia," or fYROM. Catchy name, isn’t it? Actually, the people much prefer that their country is called simply Macedonia, Republic of Macedonia, but then the Greeks are having issues with that, among other things. (see comments below)  Either way, we left for Skopje, the capital, without having any expectations except perhaps the thought that we might be seeing a lot of post-Soviet- concrete-style architecture. We were not disappointed there. Before this job even materialized though, our vision was that we would end up in a place that would be unexpectedly delightful. That’s always an excellent thought to have in any instance. WHADDAYAKNOW? Turned out to be exactly what our experience was there. We found the people to be warm and welcoming which was by far the best part of Macedonia.

 Two of these people were our landlords, Vera and Giorgi Dzabirov. We rented the upstairs apartment in their home, formerly occupied by their now-adult daughters. Vera did not speak English, but spoke instead the language of food; the baked goods dialect. On a regular basis, Vera would come knocking with a plateful of a high-calorie something or other. Before we left Macedonia, we were treated to a dinner of traditional Macedonian dishes: Sausages, beans, pickled vegetables, breads, stuffed grape leaves, and little aperitifs of Rakia. Omar the Tentmaker and Fashionista, I believe, was in cahoots with Vera. If Switzerland hadn’t done us in with food, Macedonia had to be a close second.

The other major element that made our, but especially my stay in Macedonia so great was our relationship with Gordana, my Macedonian language tutor and her fiancé (now husband), Naume. In their late 20’s, they both have grown up in a post-Tito Macedonia, where the reality of high inflation, little manufacturing base left, and low wages makes life economically challenging. Hm. Somehow that sounds vaguely familiar. Whether it was the lack of a lot of material things (e.g. their landlord owned not only their apartment building & apartment, but also their furniture), or because of it, Gordana and Naume were more than happy to share their very rich lives with us. Their interests ranged from literature, music, theater, and art to politics and more mundane aspects of life in the non-European Union Balkans. They both speak several languages (Gordana taught English, and Naume French at a local language school), and in fact Gordana is now ending the first semester of a two year scholarship studying English, Portuguese, and Italian ‘abroad.’ Needless to say, we Americans get the Language Buffoon Prize. My attempts at Macedonian were received with kindness and patience…

Leaving Macedonia in late spring, we returned home to find an assortment of squirrel and mouse prizes, but none as spectacular as the ones that Seth and Savannah discovered here just before we returned home from Switzerland. Squirrels are indeed industrious and persistent creatures.

Spring and early summer found us embarking on house projects, the biggest one being the excavation/preparation for the new porch and entryway that John designed, the ensuing concrete pad for that, followed by our friend Snowy’s excellent rockwork. Although feeling somewhat like the Winchester Mystery Mansion, the house continues to transform but not actually get any bigger. One of these decades, it will actually be finished-more or less. Summer, what there was of it here for John, seemed to fly by filled with PROJECTS. Although, always happy to get things ‘done,’ we seemed to have little time, with the exception of a kayak paddle or two with our friends, Les and Gary, for one of our favorite places to be: in and/or on the water.

That lack may have been one of the inspirations for our next visualizations for a job location. Yes, an island located in a warm place. We just hadn’t quite prepared ourselves for how effective our imaginings would be. When John arrived in Bahrain in mid-July, the daily temperatures averaged in the 120’s. When I arrived in September, daily temps had fortunately cooled down significantly to the 100-110’s. Whew, that was a relief! The swimming pool on the roof of the apartment building provided a welcome sanctuary for me each afternoon. John at least could work mostly in the air-conditioned US Embassy.

 While I was in Manama, we managed to tour the Grand Mosque at the end of Ramadan, get SCUBA recertified, go pearl-diving (and actually find a couple of really little pearls), tour the aircraft carrier Nimitz that came into port for a couple of days, and do a quickie trip to the water slides at the Atlantis Palm in Dubai. It may sound like we were in major vacation mode - and we are when we get these very special opportunities, but in the meantime, which is by far most of the time that we are overseas, John is working long hours. He continues to do so.

After a two-month stay in Bahrain, I returned home almost just in time for the really big event of 2009! The November 5th arrival of Sedona Dakota Krohn on planet earth. There are no words to describe what an incredible little being she is. Darcy has been able to stay home with her, continuing some of her duties as office manager for Stanek’s Nursery and Florist, at home and will resume a part-time at the office work schedule next month. Kris had two weeks at home to help get Sedona off to a good start before he had to return to Alderwood Landscape & Design where he continues his job as a landscape architect.

Our other offspring are also each on their own respective paths of life, love, and self-discovery. Arista seems to be thriving in Wenatchee still working part time for Stone Soup (artists’ marketing group), part time at a bistro, and in her ‘spare’ time working to develop her web design business. Seth remains a Republic resident sharing his life with Savannah, but has made a major career change. In August, he began working for Curlew Job Corps as their Assistant Recreation Manager. His recurring cheesy smile is often accompanied by the comment, “I can’t believe I actually get PAID to do this.” He’s enjoying working with the students, to say the least. And the youngest of the kid bunch, Jonathan/aka JP is living in Republic continuing with his self-directed education in important life lessons. Hopefully, we’re all still doing that, I guess! And last but not least, Sebastian, the truly senior citizen of the household at 11, is keeping track of squirrel, deer and coyote proceedings from the comfort of his pillow inside the glass doors.

From different corners of the world this Christmas, we send you our love and best wishes for the holidays and new year!

Joann and John

Chinese New Year, 2003

This was an email from Jan 9, 2003.  All of the photos can be viewed original size by clicking on the photo.

Well, it has been another week in Beijing. Actually, my last day off was Friday. Today is Wednesday, and I'm only now getting around to writing about it.

My original plan had been to go to the Great Wall last Friday. The weather had turned cold and windy and I decided to postpone that trip and do something closer to home.

One of the first items on my agenda was to locate some good hand lotion. Between the cold weather and all the concrete drilling I had been doing making holes for new conduit runs in the embassy buildings, my hands were starting to crack and bleed. I found a well stocked drug store in one of the mega-hotel/shopping mall combos popular in the tourist section of Beijing. I bought three bottles. I am glad to report that after a few days my hands are much improved.

The next trip I took was to Silk Alley. I had been there before, but the intensity of the place had overwhelmed me, with hundreds of little shops, crowds of tourists and locals, and vendors trying their best to separate people from their money.

Scenes from the entrance to the Silk Market

This time I went, resolved to go toe to toe with them and bargain my way into some good deals. I ended up buying a backpack for 60 Yuan (US$7.20) that started out at 180 Yuan, a pair of ski gloves for 50 Yuan (US$6.00) that started out at 120 Yuan, etc.

One of the many Northface jacket sellers

Many tourists pay the asking price. The guys I work with have told me what things have actually gone for, and I see how close I can get to that target. It takes determination, a lot of haggling and flat walking away to get there. In some ways, it is difficult to argue about 50 cents or a dollar with someone who makes in a day what I make in an hour. The seller however isn't the owner in most cases, but works for the owner. I'm actually working my way up to a big buy right before I leave Beijing. I hope I'm ready.

By noon, I was on the subway headed back to Tiananmen Square. The week before, I had gone with "John" (the Chinese law student who wanted to practice his English) from Tiananmen Square south into some of the older parts of Beijing. This time, I wanted to head north around the west side of the Forbidden City.

Entrance to Beihai Park.  The White Dagoba can be seen in the background.

One of the main places I visited is the Beihai Gongyuan. It is a large, beautiful park just northwest of the Forbidden City known for the Jade Islet, a island in the middle of a lake that was made by laborers with the material dug out when they made the lake. In the center of the islet is the White Dagoba, a temple built for a visit by the Dalai Lama in 1651. Unfortunately, it had closed for the day (4:30 pm) by the time I got there. I did cruise around the outside, though. In the summer there are boats to rent. In the winter, it is ice skating. I didn't see anyone actually skating but I have included a picture of what I did see.

Skating, Beihai style

 

Another picture is a small grocery store across the street from the backside of the Forbidden City. The lanterns and hangings beside the door (everything red) are just for Chinese New Year.

Dressed up for New Years

 

Chinese New Year is actually the first lunar day of the first lunar month. In 2003 it falls on Saturday, February 1st. It ended the year of the horse and issues in the year of the ram. The entire festival lasts for 15 days. The decorating has gotten intense, now. Every shop has something up. On the walk home the other night I saw several people taping stuff up in windows - banners, cut paper designs and the usual printed cardboard holiday things - just like we tape up printed cardboard ghosts on Halloween, turkeys, and snowmen in their time.

A poster in the elevator of my apartment building.  Click on the photo to read the "unfortunate" translation

The war outside my window is still going on. I'm not sure who is winning, but the cannon fire started up again as soon as the sun went down. I am told the Chinese New Year festivities continue for 15 days. Surely they will run out of fireworks by then. I was awakened at 3:30 the other morning by a blast that I was sure must have penetrated the apartment, it was so loud. I wonder what it would be like if Beijing didn't have a ban on fireworks!

One of the signs of the season are the little children. Their parents dress them up in beautiful, colorful silk jackets and pants. They really are pretty and the parents take obvious pride in dressing them up. Some of the kids have had enough of it though, you can tell. One little boy, getting off the subway in embroidered coat and pants, staged a sit-down strike at the bottom of the stairway. Mom and Dad had to suspend him by his arms and between them hauled him up the stairs. His shoes and the cuffs of his pants were caked with dried mud. He must have had a great time! Whatever festivities he had been to, he was done with the whole thing!

The embassy staff all had Monday through Wednesday off and the Chinese construction crews have all left for at least a couple of weeks for New Year holiday. The place seems deserted. It's when we get to do our noisiest, messiest work inside the embassy. Many of the shops are closed and all government offices and banks are closed. The subway has been practically empty and the crowds are gone from the streets. Many people travel home to visit relatives and bring gifts. If it wasn't for the constant booming of fireworks after the sun goes down, I might wonder if everyone wasn't leaving town.

Friday I am finally going to the Great Wall. John will be my guide again and he will get to practice his English some more. I believe it is about an hour by bus to get there.

Gongxi facai! (Wish you good luck! -a traditional New Year greeting)

John

Second Post from China - The Forbidden City

Originally sent as an email almost seven years ago (How is it possible that so much time has passed?) The pictures have been reworked with Corel Paint Shop Pro.

Friday, January 24, 2003

Today was my second day off since I have been here and the first day off that I have had a camera. Rather than buy another one here (electronic items that are not made in China are more expensive here than in other countries due to import taxes) I borrowed a Sony Cybershot from one of the other electricians working here.  Even though my Sony was lost, I still had a new 128k memory stick and it fit in this camera.

Tiananmen Gate to the Forbidden City from Tiananmen Square

My goal for the day was the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square. These two Beijing landmarks are across the street from each other and are only five subway stops away from my apartment. I waited until the sun cleared the smog and the day was as bright as it was going to get. A few minutes after getting on the subway I was getting off at the Tiananmen East station, one of the largest stations on the line. Climbing the broad staircase to street level brought me right out in front of the entrance to the Forbidden City. Tiananmen (Gate of Heavenly Peace) is famous for the 30 foot tall portrait of Mao Zedong that hangs over it.

Standing in the middle of the middle of the center...

Once inside, I soon picked up a guide who offered to give a personal guided tour for 200 Yuan ($16). He usually guided tour groups, but January was a slow season for tourist and I offered him 150 Yuan. We settled on 180. We spent over two hours going through the different palaces and halls and he provided many insights that I would never have seen if I had been on my own.

I had heard pictures couldn't be taken inside the Forbidden City; however that only applied to certain rooms displaying museum pieces, such as the hall of pottery and the hall of paintings. Once inside, I realized just how large the City is. The first large area is only the outermost courtyard. Through the next gate and across another long square gets one to the Meridian Gate. Through this gate and one enters the actual inner grounds. Three large buildings are passed in succession, the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Hall of Middle Harmony and Hall of Preserving Harmony. These were all the administration and political offices of the Emperor. Behind these buildings, were three more, the living quarters of the Emperor; the Palace of Heavenly Purity, the Hall of Union (where wedding ceremonies were held) and the Palace of Earthly Tranquility (the bedroom where the Emperor, Empresses and concubines slept.) The only men allowed here were the eunuchs. Behind all of this are the Imperial Gardens and finally the soldiers' quarters and the Gate of the Divine Warrior, the back gate. In all, the Forbidden City is said to have 999 ½ rooms, the 1000th room being in heaven.  The guide took a picture of me standing in the exact middle of the Forbidden City. The Forbidden City was considered to be the middle of China, and China was called the Middle Kingdom, or the center of the Earth. Therefore, I was standing in the middle of the middle of the center of the Earth. An impressive spot!

In the Imperial Gardens

After leaving my guide at the back gate and wandering on my own back to the front, I headed across the street via a pedestrian tunnel to Tiananmen Square.  I stopped in the middle of the square to take a 360 degree panorama. Here I was approached by a student who wanted to practice English. This is very common here. I have been approached a few times, usually on the way to or home from work. This young man was a law student who was getting ready to take his certification test. His professor was with him and said that John (sure are a lot of Johns in the world!) was an honor student, had won a scholarship to attend law school and had won a trip to America the year before (three days in Chicago). I said I desired to see some of the older parts of Beijing. We left the Square and headed a few blocks away, down narrow streets to Dazhalan Xijie, a shopping district where most of the buildings were four and five hundred years old. We went into a shop that was proud to be the place where Mao always came to get his shoes made.

Street scenes near Dazhalan Xijie

In the back of the same shop we sat for a tea ceremonyand tasted several teas. I ended up buying a very good Oolong that is grown in a small area in southern China, is harvested entirely by hand and is known for its taste and color.

Tea tasting with Deng Yong (John)

Down another street and we went into a pharmacy that displayed among other things, many kinds of ginseng root. There was ginseng from all over the world.  There were several from the US that cost about a dollar a gram. There were also three ginseng roots from a forest in northern China that were extremely rare and took 100 years to grow. They were priced at 18,600 Yuan or $2250.00! I didn't buy one of those.

Temple of Heaven

Leaving the professor, who had other things to do, John and I walked to Tiantan Park, about twenty minutes away, and the location of the Temple of Heaven. The Emperor made a once a year trip to the Temple of Heaven to pray for good rains and a successful harvest. John kept me well supplied with facts about what we were seeing and he got plenty of chance to practice his English. On the way back we detoured through several more alleys and hutong. We finally stopped at a small restaurant in an alley where he had eaten as a child, and had Peking duck and Chinese beer. The restaurant, he said, was famous for its pork (Chairman Mao's favorite dish) and everyone who ate there was served a bowl with their meal. The pork had an almost barbequed taste and was very delicious.

It was dark by the time we were done at the restaurant and after exchanging phone numbers and E-mail addresses he got on a bus and I got back on the subway.  We had made tentative plans to go to the Great Wall and the Ming Tombs next Friday. In all I took 76 pictures and though the day was overcast and the smog was laying in, I'm sure there are probably one or two good shots. I'll get some posted soon.

John

First Post from Beijing, China 2003

This was originally sent as an email on 1/17/2003.  The pictures were taken a few days later, and are added here

Apartment Life in Beijing 

Nie hao,

Today is the first day in an apartment in Beijing. I moved out of the Jian Guo Men Hotel yesterday and into a 13th floor apartment in an 18 story building, two subway stops east of the embassy district. The apartment is $900 US per month, or about equal to what I was paying at the hotel at $30 US per night. This

apartment is very nice. Except for the kitchen, which is small, everything is first class. There are two bedrooms (one with a king-size bed), two baths, laundry, a huge dining-livingroom, comes completely furnished down to sheets, towels, and dishes. It has two phone lines, high speed internet, heated floors,
and hand painted copies of famous artwork on the walls (normal for China). The rent for the two months I will be here is slightly more than what I get in one week for per diem expenses. I can handle that.

I walked around the neighborhood a little bit to get acquainted with where things are. There are about 30 different restaurants within a 4 block radius of the apartment. It will take a while to figure out where the GOOD places are. There is also a barbershop that Ed, the previous tenant, told me about. For 70 Yuan (about 9 dollars), you get a shampoo, haircut, head massage, another shampoo, and then you go upstairs for a full-body massage (with clothes on!). The whole thing takes about 90 minutes and comes highly recommended by Ed. I'll have to try it out.

Today, I also went to Beijing's famous Silk Market. It is a collection of mini-stalls that encompasses a full city block, hundreds of vendors in narrow lanes crowded with locals and tourists. Everything from silk to jade to Italian leather and North Face arctic jackets are available for the right price. The price being how hard you can bargain. Many items that originate in China can be had for ten cents on the dollar of what they would go for in the States. North Face jackets that sell for $200 in the US can be bought for $20 to $25.

Beijing does have a smog problem. The night sky is a murky haze that reveals only the six or seven brightest stars and planets and the daytime sky looks like a major forest fire is just over the horizon. The sun rises as a dark red ball and needs to be up for a couple of hours before it clears enough pollution to be too bright to stare straight into. I have had a sore throat since I got here, but I think I am getting over it.

As soon as possible I will get some pictures of Beijing posted. Stay tuned...

John

Beijing at night from my apartment