Winos

We've recently worked our way back to Sydney from South Australia. We stayed in Victor Harbor, Adelaide and the Barossa Valley. The Barossa area is well known for wine and widely considered to be the premier producer of Shiraz in Australia, if not the world. Ed and I love wine and have, on several occasions, planned trips around visiting wineries and tasting rooms both in the States and afar. We were psyched.

The Barossa lived up to the hype. There is a huge variety of wine produced throughout the region. The folks serving, particularly at the smaller wineries were awesome. The only assholes we ran across were at Peter Lehmann, a major player in the region. That is, the only assholes behind the bar.

By far the most painful folks we ran across while in the Barossa were North Americans. At Torbreck (amazing, if pricey, reds) a couple from Montana were tasting next to us. The dude owned a Vitamin company and was so obnoxious (in anticipation of a glass he'd had before, he said, out loud “this will be like an old friend”) that I was embarrassed for the cellar door worker who had to indulge him.

At Taste of Eden, a gorgeous tasting room for several of the micro-vintners who don't produce enough to have their own room, we were served wine by a gorgeous and fun former ballerina. We so enjoyed talking with her about the wine, and life, and her dog Max, that we were there for almost 2 hours. That is until the most obnoxious Canadian woman (I know, suprising!) showed up. As the husband sweetly tried to chat Ed and I up about New York and our trip, his wife barked “are we tasting or are we just going to talk?” about every 30 seconds. We quickly cut the convo short, said our good byes, and bolted.

In Australia, wine people aren't necessarily wine snobs. A lot of the cellar doors don't have distribution in restaurants or bottle shops, so folks come to taste and to shop. Most of the people working in the tasting rooms seem to love drinking wine more than talking about it, and very few people spit. This is a swallowing country, where its okay to get a little pissed on a bottle. The winemakers consider themselves farmers and the whole vibe is a super laid back rural feeling.

It was disappointing to witness our fellow countrymen taking pains to demonstrate their knowledge of wine to Aussies who really just wanted to pour it and sell it.  Note to visiting Americans: use your grape holes wisely - more drinky, less talky.  Alright?

Oh, Saigon.

We were sadsosad to leave Thailand.  Our expectations, particularly of Bangkok, weren't meteorically high and were surpassed in every category.  Plus, we made friends at the beach with an awesome couple, Chelsey & Dave, and traveled back to Bangkok with them.  We all stayed at the Atlanta and had fun times and foods and laughs and puppies.  We were comfy and complacent and full of fruit shakes and it was like ripping off a band aid to come here.

Our Friends:

The puppy:

Our very first experience in Saigon was with a taxi driver who tried several tacts to overcharge us.  We had agreed upfront that he would use the meter but as soon as we were out of the airport parking lot he started to ask whether we knew how much it would be, would rather pay a flat rate, that there would be other charges, etc.  When he realized that we weren't turnips who were ready to hand him our dong (its the currency, I'm not being dirty) he tried to leave us on the side of the road in monsoon force rains.  After refusing his kind offer of being ripped off and deserted, the 3 of us had to spend a purgatorial hour and a half in rain drenched traffic together, grumbling.


We're staying in the heart of downtown Saigon, district 1.  And, yet, the next morning and each subsequent we've been awoken by a rooster crowing at dawn.  I'm starting to miss the call to prayer and dog howling in Lanta.  As unwelcome 5 am wake ups go, it was a bit less grating.  This city is loud, crazy cacophony all day, all night, always.  The power goes out fairly often and the pollution makes Hong Kong look like Mongolia.

But, we're adjusting.  Its now day 5 and we've had some amazing times and have figured out how to cross the lawless six lane roads choked with motorbikes.  We're eating bahn mi like we've just come home from fat camp and today spoke to a travel company about our trip to the Mekong.  Vietnam didn't make the best first impression, but we're going on a few more dates before we flee and return to the loving arms of Thailand.

Hong Kong Livin'

The thing that I miss most about home is walking into our old apartment, flopping on the couch, and watching DVR'd TV.  I was never a TV addict and didn't watch so many hours a week but I liked having the option to completely zone, you know?  I know that if the thing lacking from our travels is excess ass-sitting, its not so bad, but the luxury of a living room really can't be overstated when you no longer have one.

Our friend Christina generously invited us to stay at her place in Hong Kong, and was leaving for a business trip the next morning.  Not only was our hostel there a dump (I'm talking to you Yesinn, see my review on hostelworld.com, dirtbags) but Christina's apartment is beautiful and felt like a home.  As we checked out, a couple of cockroaches saw us off and when I told the proprietor we'd be leaving early, he didn't even look up from his monitor, but grunted "there's a key box, drop 'em there."  So you can imagine that evening, having showered in a room where I didn't even consider wearing shoes, sitting on a big couch watching 'How I Met Your Mother' reruns and flipping through Vogue was nothing short of miraculous.

I wouldn't trade the experiences we're having on this trip...  The amount of world we've seen in 3 months floors me every time we tell a story or look back through some photos.  But once in a great while, a fluffy comforter and working remote control is paradise found.

Shopping in China

The style of salespeople in China is a little different to what we're accustomed to.  Basically, from the second we enter a store, an employee follows us like we're there to rob them blind.  If I pick up an item for further inspection, the helpful retailer will often start talking to me in Chinese and pick up another nearby item to show me.  I haven't yet determined if this second item is for comparative purposes, is higher priced, or is simply a staff pick.  Whatever the reason, we are too close to one another and I wish I could shop in peace.  The experience is confusing and we were finding ourselves getting a bit frustrated and claustrophobic.  Until I invented a game.

Basically, when we go into a shop (pharmacy, shoe, bookstore) the clerk usually goes right to Ed.  Given we're in China and he's the dude, he is obviously going to be the one making the purchasing decisions.  The whole surveillance and tracking system operates under the assumption that we won't split up.  So, as soon as a salesperson has glommed on to us, I veer off in my own direction (phase 1).  Now, the clerk has a critical decision to make, and the wheels are turning.  He is watching Ed, but has to keep looking away to get a fix on my location.  Am I behind the rack of sneakers? In the produce aisle? Does he stay with Ed or divert to tail me?  Who seems shiftier? 

8 out of 10 times, he calls for backup.  But by the time help arrives, I'm already in deep-browse mode.  The salesperson stands so close while I'm shopping that any unexpected move can and does cause collision, and this is where I really shine.  At this point, Ed is usually buying the thing we actually need: tissues, bottled water, a street map.  Which gives me time for phase 2, which is when I feign interest only in items on the shelves that are being blocked by the person following me.  Oh, excuse me, nope to your right, no now move left, no, right behind your head.  Oh, yes, so sorry, no I wanted that one by your foot.  Oh, how clumsy of me, yes, if you could just.  A little to your left, no my left.  My fault.  Yes this one.  No, not this one, that other one.  Sorry, if I could just reach around you...

Is this game mean spirited and culturally insensitive? Mmmm, probably.  Does it provide us a bit of amusement in situations that can seem tense? Sure.  Also?  Phase 2 frustrates and confuses the tailgate, who typically retreats and finally gives me room to breathe. Works. Every. Time.

America, brought to you by Corporate America

There were a couple of aspects of the World Expo that were super strange to us.  The American pavilion and the Chinese pavilion are about as far away from one another as possible within the grounds.  Also, the American pavilion is in the back corner of the area, making it a bit remote.  We're pretty sure this wasn't accidental.

The magic begins when we step inside and the introduction room is plastered with logos of Corporate sponsors.  An introductory film is played in which folks on the street in DC are filmed trying to say "Welcome to China" in Mandarin.  It doesn't go that well. 

As we pass into the next giant movie theater, Pfizer thanks us for not smoking. Then we watch a film where kids teach us how to save the earth (make a cloud plane that doesn't use gasoline!) and CMOs from the sponsoring firms (Chevron, GE, PepsiCo) emote; the children are our future, the environment is a critical issue.  Then cameos by such American celebrities as Tony Hawk and Marlee Matlin (she's deaf! we're diverse!), interspersed with academic interviews from professors at the University of Washington (sponsor).

We're herded into a third theater where we watch a film about a kid who dreams of turning a cement lot in her ghetto neighborhood into an urban garden and paints a picture of her vision.  She shops this around and makes some progress.  Her luck turns.  At one point it seems that a thunderstorm, flaky neighbors, and bullies will sabotage the whole project.  But when our protagonist, in desperation and pouring rain, holds her painting overhead and looks skyward over dramatic guitar music, the garden is saved.  She awakes to find it fully planted, vandals spray-painting a rainbow mural on the wall.  I think we're to assume that a higher power is responsible...

Now, imagine you're Chinese.  You don't speak English and your government isn't letting you pop over to the USA for a visit anytime soon.  Your internet access is highly censored and western TV & movies aren't broadcast.  What you see at the world expo might inform your opinion of the US disproportionately.  And what you might take away from your visit is that Americans really like sitting in dark theaters, can't and won't try to speak Chinese, and don't flush a toilet that isn't paid for by a major corporation. 

Also, the building looks like an airport terminal.  Citibank thanks you for visiting.  That is all.

INHTMF

One of the things that kept Ed and I amused during those long stretches in the van was back to back "This American Life" podcasts, 100s selected and downloaded prior to departure. Molly intro'd me to this show about 9 years ago (I know! We're getting old!) and its one of those particular flavors of which I never tire. Like Saltines, kind of.

Ed had never heard the episode "Frenemies" and I was more than happy to re-listen. Fans will recall the interview with Rich Juzwiak who talked in-depth about the line "I'm Not Here to Make Friends" and its over-usage on reality TV. His annual montage of these moments can be viewed here:
http://fourfour.typepad.com/fourfour/2010/07/happy-im-not-here-to-make-friends-day.html
Why do I bring up INHTMF? Because the evening after we listened to the ep, the 3rd traveler on our tour arrived. She had visa conflicts and joined 1 week into the 3 week tour. We'll just call her A, which is short for Asshead, which is what we actually called her. She is a Danish pastor in her 50s and that's all I'll reveal about her identity lest her offspring stumble upon my blog. Although I don't think I'm going to say anything that would surprise them.

A had at least 2 personalities. These two were the strongest, there may have been more. #1 was an engaged, neurotic, bookish, manic, know it all. The second personality was withdrawn, brattish, obsessive. We guessed bi-polar, which I imagine is a real treat when she's christening your baby. We can ignore the second personality because, well, we ignored it. But when A was manic, she was hard to overlook.

Like all tourists, she took a lot of photos. And like some tourists, she had no qualms about racing up to a nomad child or wild animal and snapping away in its face. Or, about walking through center stage of the Nadaam festival so she could photograph the wrestlers (during a match) from 3 or 4 feet away. And, like all tourists, she didn't want
to miss a photo-op because of an uncharged battery. She hadn't figured on the whole no-electricity thing and therefore didn't bring backup batteries. So on the nights we stayed in ger camps with generators (used only at night), she would jet from the van to an employee and harass them about what time the electricity would be made available to her. If the generator went on 12 minutes after she was promised, you could hear the rant from across the camp.

One powerless evening, her camera battery actually did die just before we headed to see the yak-herder family. She cursed the entire way (Armageddon had come), and then asked if we would email her our not-yet-taken-photos from the evening. Of course we would, and please shut up about your camera. What we didn't bet on was her shadowing us so she could helpfully point out photo ops. As you might imagine once I was holding the camera this behavior ended.

There were several other incidences involving the camera/battery/electricity paradigm, but I think you get the gist.

I've mentioned before that our tour guide was a freaking dolt, yes? A picked up on this pretty quickly as well, and yet, personality #1 chose to inundate Undraa with questions, firing squad style, at least a few times a day. Did Undraa have the answers to these questions? No. Did she understand the questions? Only after they were repeated at least twice. Did the questions even have answers? Let's review....

Sample questions actually posed by A to Undraa. When each inquisition began, Ed and I could be heard muttering "Is it bigger than a breadbox?" to mark the beginning of another Q&Q sesh.
- When will the rain stop?
- Where is that nomad going?
- Does that cow [pointing to solo cow in field] belong to the family
we saw earlier?
- How long until this road becomes pavement?
- What will they serve for lunch?
- How many people will be staying at the camp?

Completing the triumvirate of A's worst traits was her role as Hector-the-Corrector. Anything that Ed or I said was immediately and summarily corrected or contradicted. Topics ranging from the mining industry to whether the tent was big or small to what kind of fruit was in the jam at breakfast were open for debate. Usually, the conversation would go something like this:
A: Do you know how much the ticket is for tonight?
R: I believe its 10 thousand Mongolian
A: So what is that?
R: Around 8 US
A: NO, that's too high.... Undraa, how much is 10 thousand Mongolian in US? Undraa, of course, goes to ask someone at the restaurant.
U: About 7.50 US
A: See? I knew that was too high.

And thus a dinner would conclude and Ed and I would pretend to go to bed only to circle back to the restaurant at the ger for big Mongolian beers and card playing without her. We would remind ourselves that we went on this tour to see Mongolia, not to make friends, and that soon enough we would be rid of A.

And though I loathed her, the day we headed back to UB, a little seedling of generosity sprouted in my heart. We knew that A hadn't yet been to the capital and we warned her of the pickpockets and theft we had seen and heard of and cautioned her to take care of her stuff.  We ran into her in the hotel restaurant the next day where she let us know, triumphantly, had been out for hours, hasn't seen any pickpockets, and that UB was perfectly safe. We were, obviously, wrong again.

The day after that we saw her in the lobby. Red faced and panting, she had just been robbed. Her camera, with all the photos from the trip, was gone. And could we please email our photos to her?