China [Travel] Moment

Yesterday I was nearly foiled by China in my attempt to get from Shanghai to Beijing.  Yes, in a matter of just 30 minutes I had an extended "China moment" that involved subway trains, buses, automobiles, planes, and one fiery old lady.

It started at 8:45am when I left for the airport.  A 5-minute walk brought me to the subway station which is on the same line as the airport.  "How easy is that," I asked myself rhetorically.  Not so easy, actually.  The next train was in 18 minutes.  Fair enough on a holiday week.  I waited with big backpack, daypack, and computer bag in tow thinking about how funny my legs look in floppy linen shorts and massive trekking boots.  The train arrived and I stepped on to find that this particular car was traveling to a different end station and not going via the airport.

I quickly darted off to discover that the next train, which was going to the airport, wasn't coming for another 18 minutes!  That wasn't good because I had to check in at least 45 minutes before my flight; the deadline for which was in 32 minutes.  Quick math ("18 minutes until the train then 25 on the train then 7 walking...") confirmed my worst nightmare (missing a flight, which I have never done thanks to my usually arriving 2-3 DAYS before departure).  If I stayed here I was a goner.

Hoisting my massive backpack on my back, daypack on my front, and computer bag over my shoulder I waddled back up the escalator, through the exit, and out to the street where, miraculously, there was a bus stopped that read "Hongquiao Airport" on the front!  I hopped right on, the driver confirmed my good fortune, and we took off!  "All is well," I thought.

Two blocks later all was not well.  Either the bus had run out of gas or it was attempting to charge up to reach light speed because we were stoppin' then zoomin' like nobody's business.  The driver pulled the now dying vehicle over, opened the door, got off, and just started walking down the street shaking his pristine white gloves in the air.  We all looked at each other in dismay  It only took 30 seconds to realize what was coming next: a battle royale to get the first taxi to the airport.

I once again sherpa-ed up, bags hanging on every limb.  A pint-size elderly Chinese woman shoved me to one side to make a run for it.  In my current top-heavy state I was an easy target and tipped right over.  As I lay there in a pile of overpriced lifetime warranty nylon and canvas bags, zippers flying every which way, I had a realization: this isn't Kansas anymore.  This is China.  GAME. ON.

The adrenaline began to pump through my veins.  I used this newfound superhuman strength to pull myself up, swat a few small children to the side, and find that women to claim my revenge.  As I exited the bus I could see her in the distance.  Her greying bouffant was a near perfect circle and didn't move even a smidgen as she waved her hands in the air while simultaneously checking over her shoulder for cab-hailing competition.  My waddle became a gallop as our eyes locked and I began to wave my arms in the air at an equally frantic rate.

As an aqua cab rounded the bend, it's "available" light shining brightly, I knew this was my moment. I could give it up to her in the spirit of American kindness and perhaps miss my flight or I could crush her, claim victory, and get to the airport on time.  As they say, when in Rome...

My gallop became an all-out run-waddle-hop-skip-jump and I waved my arms madly.  Bouffant made a hard left and quickly turned her power strides into a "poor old lady shuffle."  She was clearly playing the sympathy card to the driver.  I wasn't fooled and the driver clearly didn't care.  As I swung the back door open and launched my bags inside she headed for the front window, a "poor me" look slapped on her face in an attempt to steal my cab.  Mind you, this is the woman who, 2 minutes earlier, had knocked over a grown man carrying no less than 100 pounds of luggage.

One leg hanging out the door I yelled at the driver to go and we zoomed away, leaving evil granny in the dust.  I turned back to find that her face had turned into a smile and she was giving me a thumbs up.  No matter how heated, Chinese people still have the innate ability to reward an all-out adoption of their ways.  I could tell she was quite proud.

Sadly, karma is a pain and five minutes later we were in bumper to bumper traffic behind another bus that had broken down.  Rather than pull to the side of the road the driver instead decided to park across all four lanes of traffic in an apparent attempt to ruin everyone's day.  The clock was ticking and I was getting restless, begging the driver to do something - ANYTHING.  Naturally, as we're in China, he did.  The man pulled right up on the sidewalk, passed the bus, plopped us back down on the road, and we sped away, both wearing a very satisfied grin.

I got to the check-in desk exactly 47 minutes prior to departure, cut the line all the way to the front (as you do in China), shoved my passport across the desk, whipped my bag onto the belt, and nabbed the last window seat.  Kyle - 1, China - 0.  On board I was greeted by an adorable 8-year-old who was so intrigued with my iPad he decided he'd rather sit on my lap and play angry birds than enjoy his very own seat.  As we landed in Beijing and his dad told him to give it back to me, he looked at me with the saddest face I have ever seen and spent the next several minutes attempting to sucker me into giving it to him.  I tell you what, it almost worked.  If you could have seen that face!

Now I'm safe and sound in Beijing and very proud to have one what can only be described as one of the greatest battles to claim victory over a China moment in recorded history.  As for that old lady, I ran into her in the terminal 20 minutes later.  She waved kindly and gave me another thumbs up.  It clearly hadn't occurred to either of us to just share the cab.  What's the fun in that?

--

Kyle Taylor

Livin’ The Barossa Life

The work/unemployment mismatch is really a pain. When you’re working you’ve got the money but not the time. When you’re not working you’ve got the time but not the money. Thankfully, I’ve got some amazing friends who - save my ability to “get there” have wonderful family and [other] friends that kindly subsidize the habits of those in need.


Bernadette Blenkiron is one of those great friends! With all this time on my hands, she suggested a big jaunt to her parent’s vineyard in the Barossa Valley, South Australia. It’s Australia’s Napa Valley and my goodness, it is fabulous!


Sleepy but charming Adelaide was explored rather thoroughly in an afternoon, which left more time for Peter Lehmann, Yalumba, Bethlehem, and all the other ten million fabulous winemakers that inherit this gorgeous piece of Earth.


We shut down Angaston’s main hot spot (at 8:30pm on a Saturday), ate what was named the World’s Best Pizza (for real), caught up on our show - Being Erica, wandered the farm, played with the youngin’s, cooked a pot roast, and avoided the internet at all costs. It was a brilliant escape from a less-brilliant escape (unemployment).


There are heaps more pictures on my flickr. Enjoy!

--
Kyle Taylor

Back In Oz!

After nearly two months in England dotted by one wild adventure (Dubai to London via Tunisia, Spain, all of France, and a ferry across the Channel), one big Election victory, one sad passing of a relative, one epic birthday party, and one 21-hour flight, I'm now back down under in a slightly more wintry Oz! That is, at least, in the Australian notion of "winter." With highs around 68 degrees, it's not much of a winter and actually quite similar to the "summer" I left in London!

My time in the UK was a non-stop onslaught of hard work, bed-hopping (crashing with different friends all over the city), emotional ups and downs (losing a relative), and a general commitment to seeing as many good friends as humanly (or not so humanly) possible. Oddly enough, I arrived in Sydney to a pending article deadline and a quick four-day hop down to Melbourne (coordinated by my roomie), which meant the marathon pace continued.


Now that we're back from Melbourne, I've turned that physical pace into more of a steadily paced long distance swim. Don't go out too fast and maintain your speed in the middle. I am also armed with an entirely revised and revived approach to the job hunt. Last time I wasn't expecting it and the whole thing took me by surprise. No plans, no checklists, and no agenda. Well this time, things are different! Shower first thing as if I have somewhere to be (as opposed to sometime in mid-afternoon), timeline my day to get in what's essential and stay on task, eat healthy, and rebuild a fitness plan. Still, in the spirit of my paced approach, don't go about all of these at once.

There's more to come on my new search and how I'm working to keep my spirits up, so get excited! There's also more to come on an entirely new adventure - having basically broken the bank on my extended stay in London, I'll be testing the wild world of spending as little money as possible. How far does an Aussie dollar go? We'll find out! Alas, my allotted blogging time is up, so more soon! Gotta keep to my schedule!

--

Kyle Taylor

I Come TO The Land Down Under...

After 14 hours of near bliss (my flight was fairly empty, I slept 8 hours over three seats, and the movie selections were phenomenal) our decent began into Sydney Airport. The sun was just cusping over the horizon, welcoming a new day for Sydneysiders and a new continent for this American.

Having traveled so much the past several years, I was worried that I may not feel the same level of excitement and anticipation that usually goes along with a big flight to a “far away land.” I’d just spent a few months at home with family and friends and nearly felt settled there, Packing didn’t bring the “pump-up the jam” it usually does, the goodbye’s almost felt like “see you in a week’s,” and so on. I feared that traveling may have lost it’s “luster.” Was it time for me to settle down?



Absolutely not. As we banked left over the city and along the coast, I caught my first glimpse of the Opera House and all those butterflies came back to life, only this time they were flying in formation. Having been notoriously bad with big transitions (shocking, I know), it was relief to feel both excitement and ease with the start of this new adventure.

A good friend (and now roommate) welcomed me at the fierce border (they have a weekly TV show based entirely on people trying to bring goods and - often themselves - into Australia illegally), we lugged my bags through the sliding glass doors only to be met by the hot humidity of a tropical summer. It was heavenly.



The ride to the apartment found me in top “inquisitive” shape. “What’s that? Why is it there? When did they build this? Where is downtown from where we are now? Are you there yet? Do you have any candy?” I felt like a kid in a candy store. Fortunately, my friend had the patience necessary to feed my need for information.



After a quick shower we hit the city, making a stop at every landmark you’ve seen on every postcard ever sent from this giant island way far away. What stood out most (other than, you know, the Opera House) was the undeniably unique character of the city that had me thinking of Hong Kong, Cape Town, London and Los Angeles all at once. That and the fact that they spell “curb” as “kerb,” which is just silly.

What this year will bring I do not yet know, but one thing is certain: those butterflies continue to fly, and nothing else really matters.

--

Kyle Taylor

Planes, Trains & Automobiles

Objective: Get from Hong Kong in the most efficient way possible (Read: cost and time effective. Read even deeper: NO OVERNIGHT BUS).

Solution: Take a taxi to a train to a taxi to a plane to a bus to a bus to a motorcycle. Yeah!


It all started at 6am when the alarm went off. We showered and dressed (though Stacey had drugged herself to stave off motion sickness, so I nearly had to shower and dress the two of us). Return key, hail cab, hail Stacey into cab. Arrive at train station and eat something wildly overpriced and wildly not delicious for breakfast. Wait.

Board train and take forward-facing seats. Listen to Stacey utter her first words of the day “Wow. I feel a bit more awake now.” Good. It’s now 8:30am. Arrive at Chinese border and begin the onslaught of delays. Message: “Sorry for the delay, but we will start moving again in just a moment.” If a moment last for one minute, then we started moving 120 “moments” later. Stacey has been asleep the entire time thanks to the “wonder travel drugs.”


Arrive in China and begin the usual China chaos. No lines, people shouting, total chaos. I LOVE IT and re-enter “China mode.” Pass customs and pit-stop at the toilet. Stacey’s mind is saying “yes” but Stacey’s tummy is saying “no.” Airport buses are all cancelled for “a special reason.” Oh how I missed Chinese “special reasons.” Cue the onslaught of taxi drivers promising a “good price,” none of which are good. Settle on man wearing plaid pants, a checked shirt and alligator skin shoes. He’s also on his cell phone and walking a consistent 10 feet in front of us, looking back every so often to make sure we’re still with him.

We’re now outside in front of a tienda that sells EVERYTHING, like most shops in China. I’m LOVING EVERY MINUTE. “Sit here and have a rest while the car arrives.” Oh how I missed Chinese rests. A small car/van/thing arrives. We load ourselves in and head out, handing over the stack of “receipts” that were given to us at some point by someone to “pay” for the taxi. NO IDEA. Still loving it.


Get to the airport two hours early and spend the first out the cowboy-hat clad salesman luring us into the “Guanzhou Airport Wine Festival.” WHAT? Security is a breeze and I decide to purchase some instant noodles for old time sake. They are divine. Boarding is a train wreck as expected. “We are now boarding rows 21 to 30. EVERYONE ON THE FLIGHT RUSHES THE GATE. I can’t help but chuckle. I am so happy right now.

The flight leaves thirty minutes late but manages to arrive 10 minutes early. HOW DO THEY DO THAT? Baggage claim is a breeze. The guy driving the luggage truck zooms past the belt - T-shirt rolled up to his armpits and cigarette hanging from his bottom lip - and pulls the pin, sending the bags hurtling into the wall. They fly everywhere. I am laughing hysterically. Stacey misses the whole ordeal. She’s still in the bathroom.


We get the airport bus JUST IN TIME and take our $3 seats. Stacey sits near the front to avoid upchucking. The ride is HILARIOUS and I feel like we’ve been transported into a game of frogger. Around the bicycles, over the cones in the road and through the road barriers, horn ablaze. Stacey is SHOCKED.

In Guilin city we have to transfer from this bus station to another bus station for our journey to Yangshuo. Mind you, Yangshuo is actually PAST the airport in the opposite direction but to keep a long chain of commerce alive you MUST go from the airport to Guilin, transfer in-city to a different bus station then backtrack plus some to Yangshuo. Brilliant. We meet Vivian en route, who works in Yangshuo. She offers to share a taxi to the other bus station and talks us through the entire change. I just observe. It has been awhile.

Our second bus is the express and we resume our game of frogger, this time adding in people walking (where, I have no idea) and a Yangshuo original tractor car thing whose outboard motor propels it forward at no more than five miles an hour. I’m secretly wishing I was on board.


We arrive in Yangshuo and immediately everyone wants to sell us bamboo rafting trips, nights at a hostel, dinner, jewelry and artwork. I text our hostel owner and he arrives ten minutes later to “pick us up.” We follow him outside and find his wife standing next to two electric scooters. Where on earth will our backpacks go? I’ve clearly been away too long, completely forgetting the Chinese ability to carry anything and everything on any form of transportation. Big pack goes on the floor, little pack goes on my back, I straddle the owner. Stacey is simul-straddling his wife. We’re off.

Five minutes later we de-bike and are whisked inside for dinner. It’s now exactly 6pm. Twelve hours, a thousand miles and every form of transportation later, we have arrive and I am on cloud nine.

--

Kyle Taylor

Next Adventure - Commence!

Well now, it has been nearly a year since my hot feet hit the ground running and now it's time to change all that! I'll be leaving Friday for a four-month sojourn through Asia, Russia, Eastern Europe and the Middle East writing for travel publications about the sights and sounds of my journey. I've dotted the itinerary above. Here it is "itinerary" form:

August 28 - London to Hong Kong

August 29-September 15 - Hong Kong, Guilin, Shanghai and Beijing

September 15th-29th - Trans-Mongolian Railway including stops in: Ullanbaatar Mongolia, Irkutsk Russia and Yekaterinburg Russia.

September 29th-October 3rd - Moscow

October 4th-7th - St. Petersburg

Ocober7th to November 15th - Eastern Europe including Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania,Poland, Ukraine, Bulgaria, Romania and Greece.

November 15th-22 - Egypt

November 22nd-December 2nd - Israel

December 2nd-December 6th - Jordan

December 7th-10th - Dubai

December11th-15th - Iceland

December 16th-22nd - England for graduation

December22nd - Return to the US of A with stops in LA, Vegas, Utah, Boston, NYC & DC.

February 7th - Depart for Australia

So that's my next four months! Tune in for all the gorgeous photos, videos, stories and happenings from the journey. It should be grand!

--

Kyle Taylor

$10,000 RAISED! Now Some Radio Silence

First, the big news! We've raised nearly $10,000 for Harvey, which got the Parry family over the edge to buy his first pair of running legs! I'll have a video up soon of him nipping here there and everywhere! Naturally, it's adorable. So THANK YOU to everyone who contributed. We did it!

As for me, I've been away for a few weeks recovering from the swim and subsequent slandering and I'm now in full dissertation mode! I've set up shop in Brussels at the Decrop's place for the next 16 days and it's all dissertation ALL THE TIME. Fortunately, we started with a five-day trip to Berlin, which was INCREDIBLE. More on that when I have time to really get into it.



In the meantime, enjoy all the photos from my UK road trip by clicking here. The Scottish Highlands, Edinburgh, York, The Lake District, Blackpool, Liverpool, Wales and yes, of course, Stonehenge!



Enjoy, and I'll update periodically when I need a study break. Don't worry, BIG EXCITING plans are coming this fall, so lots and lots of adventures to share.

--

Kyle Taylor

The Travel Gods Still Hate Me…

These past few weeks have put me back on the road again, only this time I haven’t needed my passport. Sadly though, it seems that my luck has remained the same – NOT GOOD. I’m in New Hampshire now at the Democratic College Congress, and heading to Connecticut from here for Youth Venture’s annual global team meeting (do you like how I talk about entire states as if they were cities? When they’re that tiny it feels like they’re cities, because you can zip through one in a car with great ease). It was the getting to New Hampshire that was a real pain in the rear.


I was supposed to take the bus from New York City (that’s big enough to get the city subtitle) to Boston then catch a short 1-hour car ride to New Hampshire. My shoulder surgery, however, was given the green light (I’m needing to get it done before the New Year so as to avoid having my insurance deductible reset) which meant I had to get back to DC for a Monday morning intake then board a plane to Boston Monday evening (I decided to fly over taking the train or bus to save time. Hahaha).

I did all the bookings, so forth and so on and put it in the hands of the travel gods, who are apparently irritated with me. My bus back to DC from NYC took a whopping SEVEN HOURS, which is three hours more than usual. Why, might you ask? Lets ask the State of New Jersey, who thought it would be a marvelous idea to split their “expressway” into two sections, one inevitably traffic-laden and the other open as the South Africa sky.


Fast-forward 16 hours later, post-intake (everything went well and I’m going to be on lots of drugs that are going to make me really loopy and very “huh? Whuh?”). I began my trek to Boston at 2:30pm by boarding the subway at Tenleytown station. I took the subway to the Marc commuter rail to the airport shuttle to Terminal 4, checked my bag, did the security dance, and plopped down in a chair at 5:10pm, perfect timing for my 5:30pm flight. DELAYED. We were now supposed to depart at 6:51pm. At 6:56pm they announced this flight was cancelled and we were all put on other flights leaving throughout the evening. My new departure time was 7:20pm. At 7:23pm I was still sitting in the terminal, fairly certain something was wrong. Indeed, something was wrong. At 7:40pm they CANCELLED that flight too – complete hydraulics failure which controls, you know, the entire plane.

At this point people were getting very agitated and crowding the gate area, ready to claim justice. I listened as people told loved ones their plight via cell phone. “I mean (sobbing), this is just like, the worst day of my life Mom,” and “Its just always something and this is just…just (gets choked up) why me?” and “The world hates me.” Dramatic? I think yes. For whatever reason – maybe the traveling all over and then living through the Dengue – I remained largely unaffected and found the whole ordeal rather humorous. I just bought a salad, read a book, and chilled out.

We eventually left from another gate on the other side of the airport, having to go through security all over again. Our 9:30pm departure put us in Boston at 11pm, which had me at my aunt Nancy’s place by 11:45pm, a full 7 hours and 15 minutes after leaving for the airport…Now, how long does the bus take again?

6 Trains, 2 SkyCars, A Taxi & A Flight Later…Getting To SA

It all started in Brussels at 12:30pm when I left the Decrop’s house for the train station. I had to get to Dusseldorf to fly to Frankfurt and then on to Joburg in South Africa. My plans had changed somewhat and I wasn’t in Dusseldorf (obviously), so I had hoped to skip the flight from Dusseldorf to Frankfurt and go straight from Brussels to Frankfurt by train, thus cutting out about 6 hours of pointless travel. “That’s impossible,” the Lufthansa woman told me, when I called the reservation line. “You must start your flight at point of purchase, and Dusseldorf is your point of purchase. I’m sorry, there is nothing I can do unless you want to pay $150 change fee.” Mind you, I didn’t want to “change” anything. I just wanted to skip a flight, empty a seat, give them a chance to make more money. Not an option.

So I took the train from Brussels to Koln, then Koln to Dusseldorf then Dusseldorf to Dusseldorf Airport. From there, I took the “SkyCar” to Terminal A, walked a half-mile to the Economy class check-in, and dropped my baggage. “You have a middle seat,” Elsa told me. “46E.” I showed her my confirmation, which said I had a window, 50A. “That seats taken.” Sorry. Super. Then it was through security, where I had my water bottle confiscated again while my bag was being checked for bomb residue. From there, I went to my gate. Because of the train situation I was 3 hours early but already, my flight was delayed 2 hours, which meant I was going to miss a dinner date with my friend Lori, who is working for Commerzbank in Frankfurt. She didn’t have a cell phone and the Internet station was down, so I decided to text Ben in DC to email her in Frankfurt and explain. No immediate reply and Lori and I are supposed to meet in an hour, so I text Kyle. He replies, letting me know he is at work (a restaurant, so no computer). Then I decide to text Dana (also in DC) who doesn’t know Lori but can get her info on Facebook and send a message to her for me. She replies with “will do.” Success! Then she replies again, letting me know her info is set to “private” on Facebook, but that she sent her a Facebook message. Good enough.

Another hour passes and the flight is further-delayed due to bad weather in Frankfurt. Now it’s looking like I’m going to miss my connection, so I head to the ticket counter. “Not a chance that you’re getting to South Africa tonight,” Freida tells me. “No way, but I will confirm you for tomorrow.” Well that’s good enough, I decide. As this airport stuff happens to me quite often, I was marginally un-phased. That meant I needed a place to crash in Frankfurt, which meant I needed to get a hold of Lori! Now in crisis mode, I decided to spend the $18 to use the airport’s wireless network.


I get on G-chat. Luckily, Lori is online. I explain everything and she says I can stay with her. Glorious! Then she types, “my address is” and at that moment, Gmail goes ballistic and our chat is cancelled. So, I have a confirmation that I can stay but I have NO IDEA where she lives. Being resourceful, I get on AOL Instant Messenger, find Ben online and ask for Lori’s screenname. “She’s on gchat. I’ll ask,” he tells me. Meanwhile, I am on Facebook posting on Lori’s “wall” explaining what happened. A few minutes pass. “Her Instant Messenger isn’t working. What’s up? I’ll tell her.” So I proceed to ask Ben (who is in DC simultaneously hosting a conference call at work and updating the Alpha Phi Omega website) to get Lori’s address, as well as a phone number. He begins acting as middleman and I get what I need. Then he offers to get a map online for me, which he sends via iChat. By now, Lori’s Instant Messenger has decided to start working once again, and we’re chatting directly, though I continue to chat with Ben.

We both decide a phone call would work better, so I Skype her from my computer in the Dusseldorf airport. We finalize the plans and I hang up. Then I call the office in DC to explain that I’m going to be a day late to South Africa. Right in the middle of our conversation they announce that my flight from Dusseldorf to Frankfurt is now CANCELLED, which means I’m back at zero. I quickly hang up with the office and ask the woman what to do. She explains that I need to get my luggage then go to “Re-ticketing” to find a solution.

I go to the baggage carousel. It spins and spins with lots of bags, but not mine. 15 minutes pass and I ask an attendant what to do. He says “I don’t know.” Now, he works at the airport. Shouldn’t he have just the slightest idea what I should do? I head to lost luggage, wait in line with the other 50 people and discover that my bag was “flagged” as unattended (probably because I was supposed to be getting on plane) and put into quarantine. Another 30 minutes and they produce it, wrapped in an air-tight black bag. Hmmm…

So it’s now 10pm (I started this game at 12:30pm) and I’m running to “Re-ticketing,” where I have a lovely discussion with an Australian and South African who explain how they never lock their doors because their countries are so safe, “not like America.” Then it’s my turn and I explain that I’d like to get to Frankfurt tonight, so as not to spend a fortune on a hotel room. Linda (lovely woman) gets me on the next train out of Dusseldorf, so I scurry with all my luggage to the “SkyCar,” which takes me to the Dusseldorf Airport train station, where I attempt to log on to the wireless and email Lori with my updated plan. The network is (shockingly) down, so I decide to use my cell phone, only to discover the cell network is also down! No email, no internet, no phone. Can it get any worse? Obviously, yes.

I get the next train from Dusseldorf Airport to Dusseldorf Main, only to find that my connecting train (from Dusseldforf to Koln) is 15 minutes late, which means I am going to miss my last train from Koln to Frankfurt, and the next one isn’t until 1am! By now I’m starving, as all I had eaten was a croissant and a waffle when I was still in Belgium. My choices are McDonald’s or Pizza Hut. I choose Pizza Hut and decide (why, I do not know) to go with something new and get a slice of Indian Tandoori Chicken Pizza. I take a big bite and within seconds my mouth is ON FIRE from the spices. I reach to the side of my bag to get my water bottle, but there is nothing there. It was confiscated when I went through airport security. I dart to the vending machine (backpack on, suitcase rolling behind me) and stuff my money into the coin slot, pounding on the water button. The machine is broken, and it won’t return my $2! My lips are now numb and I have no control of my tongue. Remembering that bread actually cools the burn, I turn to the snack machine and cram more money into the slot, pressing “1-6” to get some crackers. The little sprockets spin to release the bag and right as it’s about to drop, the bag gets lodged into the spiral. I dig through my pocket looking for more change. I need 1 euro and I have 95 euro-cents. No crackers for me. At this point my train pulls up and I have to board, eyes watering, nose running.


Because this train was late it was also very full. Knowing that I was going to miss my connection from Koln to Frankfurt anyway, all sense of urgency had left my system. I sauntered in to find that the only seat left was in the SMOKING CAR. Again, perfect. The ticket agent came through to stamp tickets. I handed him my plane ticket stub, on which the flight attendant had scribbled in pen, “Good for the train” and initialed it. VERY OFFICIAL. The train attendant looked at me like I was crazy. I began to explain the last 11 hours to him, my eyes still watering from the pizza of death. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll figure this out,” thinking my tears were tears of sadness. I was totally fine with this confusion. I hadn’t lied about anything and hopefully something good was going to happen.


He picked up his walkie-talkie and started speaking in lightning-fast German to someone, then he disappeared into the next car. He reappeared five minutes later to let me know that he had “phoned ahead and made sure the train would wait for us to arrive. You will need to run though,” he told me; and run I did. Like the wind. And scream. Like a 12-year-old girl. “WAIT! WAIT! WAIT!” I yelled, as the train attendant started to board. I jumped in and within 10 seconds we were moving again. For the first time in nearly 12 hours something had gone right.

From there, everything when smoothly – the train was on time, I got a cab easily and he took me right to Lori’s door. I’m about to drift off into dreamland now, but lets recap:

Train to train to train to train to skycar to middle seat to water confiscated to waiting in the airport to texting America to get a hold of someone in Germany to gchatting to skyping to flight being cancelled to quarantined luggage to skycar to train to train to pizza of death to vending machine of doom to train to smoking car to misinterpreted tears to running to train to train to taxi to bed. NOT TO SOUTH AFRICA, all because Lufthansa didn’t want to let me skip my 20-minute flight from Dusseldorf to Frankfurt. Thanks Lufthansa. Thanks!

Trains Hate Me

I was up early to catch my train to Germany. Correction: trains. I was going from Brussels to Liege, Liege to Aachan, Aachan to Bochum. Now, when I think of train travel in Europe I think clarity, ease of use and timeliness. Wrong, wrong and wrong. My first train from Brussels to Liege left on time but moved slower than a horse-drawn cart (literally, a horse-drawn cart passed us), meaning I missed my connection in Liege. After checking the big board with train departures I discovered the next train to Aachan didn’t leave for another three hours. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, only the train station in Liege is completely under construction, which meant I got to spend three hours sitting on the curb listening to and watching big cranes build the new “futuristic” station.


When my train finally arrived I was shocked to find that it was full of trash (there was actually a layer of garbage lining the floor). It appeared to be a throw-back from the Soviet block. My third train was commuter rail, which meant we stopped every three minutes for an hour and an a half. The bad luck continued throughout my trip. The next day, when Sophie and I went to visit Germany’s first-ever Youth Venture team, we got on what we thought was our train that was supposed to take 20 minutes to get to our destination. An hour later when we never passed our stop, we got off the train, only to find out that there was an error in the track assignments, meaning we had actually gone an hour in the wrong direction. AWESOME. On the way back from the site visit we took a short train ride to the subway, then got on the subway going the wrong direction. When we finally realized what had happened, we got back on going the other way, only to miss our stop because we were both totally engrossed in our conversation. PERFECT.


Then I had to take a 40-minute train from Bochum to Koln for our big event with Staples. I boarded but had no seat assignment, assuming no one had a seat asssigment. Wrong. Each seat had it’s own little sign for the day that indicated when the seat was reserved. I had no seat assignment, however, I didn’t understand the system in the slightest so whenever we stopped and picked up more people, I was obliged to move to another seat. I moved seats 7 times in 40 minutes and did NOT get a nap, like I had hoped.


Of course, it did not stop there. I had decided to upgrade my return ticket to Brussels from three trains on commuter rail to one high-speed train that would cut two hours off my trip back to Brussels, all for only $5! No-brainer, right? Only if you actually get on the train…I was up at 7AM to catch the 8:14AM train. The board (and my ticket) said track 8, so I went to track 8. The big screen their said “8:14AM – Brussels.” Right place, I thought. Then, 10 minutes later, the sign changed to “8:18AM – Amsterdam.” It was only 8:08AM and my train had yet to arrive, so I asked the very friendly (read sarcasm) train attendant what I should do. “This is the right place. Just board the train at doors D, E or F and you will go to Brussels.” So the train (to Brussels even though it says to Amsterdam) pulls in and I board at door D. 8:14AM comes and goes and we aren’t moving. 8:16AM and I decide to ask once again, as nothing inside the train (signs, etc.) offer any indication that I might be going to Brussels. I step out and ask the attendant. He points to cars E and F, which are now pulling away and says “Oops. I guess it was just cars E and F. Bye bye train. It looks like you aren’t going to Brussels right now! Haha.” Haha? Why, dear German train attendant, is this funny? By now it’s 8:18AM and the doors of the train to Amsterdam begin to close WITH MY BAGS ON BOARD. So my stuff is going to the Netherlands and I am stuck in Germany. I jump back on the train, throw my big backpack in space to stop the door, strap on my little backpack (with my computer inside) jump over my big back and then pull it out of its wedged position in the door, all whilst this train agent stairs and watches me. I ended up having to spend $4 more to get the next high-speed train, which didn’t leave for another 2 hours…thanks Germany, thanks.

Ciao Argentina, You Will Be Missed…

Upon leaving I wanted to share some final lessons learned:

No matter how much you enjoy something, never verbalize it. For example, I told Patricia I really liked Dulche de Leche. She brought out the tub from the fridge with every meal, insisting I eat some. Then she bought me Dulche de Leche candy to take with me.

Argentinians drink TONS of carbonated beverages and eat more chocolate and sweets than any other culture I have EVER seen. Coke and chocolate. Coke and chocolate. Coke and chocolate.

Take your watch off before you arrive. Time is of the essence, and attempting to push that is a futile task and in the end, a big mistake. Just go with the flow. That in-between flex time ended up offering some of my most memorable moments. To note, that flex time increases as you travel further north. When we were in Humahuaca, which is just miles from the Bolivian border, the school had a room for students to hang out in when teachers “just don’t show up” or are “really late.” The culture show started two hours later than we had expected. If you know me, you can imagine how many times I asked if something was wrong.

Somehow, the Argentineans managed to cram another hour into the day! See below…



It’s not that they don’t have hot water anywhere, it’s just that it comes out of the right tap, not the left. Yeah, not my proudest moment(s).

Sometimes a 16-year-old might be driving you around in a large van with broken windshield blasting Beyonce while winding up the side of a mountain. Just breathe.


Finally, They LOVE “High School Musical.” I mean, obsessed. 100,000 people bought tickets to see them perform in Buenos Aires. I even saw them on MTV in Humahuaca. The one girl said “the best part of being famous is that a lot of people care what you have to say.” Um, I don’t. I care what the girls who started their own recycling center have to say though. How about we put them on TV, in magazines and on stage? But maybe that’s just me…

You’ve Been Randomly Selected For Incredibly Intrusive & Overwhelmingly Ridiculous Additional Screening

Twelve hours pass and it’s like I’ve landed in a completely different universe upon arriving at San Francisco Airport. I had fallen asleep in Shanghai only to wake up two hours later and find that we were still at the gate. Apparently one of the lavatories was acting as a vacuum into the outside world. Not good. Needless to say, that meant everything else was late, except for the flight attendant’s attitude. No, that was right on time. “Excuse me can I…” Odd woman wearing excessive eye make-up continues on past me. Cue safety video circa 1973 reminding us to stow our platform shoes. Awesome. This video was, of course, broadcast on the microscopic televisions suspended over the aisles. This TV would later play host to Casino Royale as we munched on our “meat” dish.

Now here I am, back in the good ol’ US of A looking forward to the more “civilized” life I left so many months before. Wrong. First it was the baggage claim, where people fought like cats and dogs to snatch their bags off a revolving platform that was indeed REVOLVING. That meant the bags were coming back around again and again and again. Then it was the customs line, where a man cut in front of me and the officer didn’t “welcome me home.” When did we lose that touch? It always felt so nice to return to the US and hear a guy say “welcome home Mr. Taylor.” Apparently it was a security issue?

This was followed by the third, and most disastrous turn of events. I had missed my original connecting flight because my first flight was two hours late, despite the fact that my connecting flight was actually on the same aircraft that I had taken from Shaghai, that ancient Boeing disaster (special thanks to Not Divided Airlines). Isn’t it odd how I was on the plane then had to get off of it, only to be unable to get back on it in time? This is, of course, a security consideration. After all, that’s how the bad people get you! They feign normalcy on their first flight then kick it into high gear on the connection.

This put me in the slow lane at the “Rebooking Center,” also known as the reason you missed the next three connecting flights. Luckily Lucy was able to squeeze me into a flight scheduled to depart in 20 minutes. I dumped my baggage, tightened my backpack, gave my rolly suitcase wheels a spin and I was off to catch this plane! I must have run for ten minutes solid before reaching the re-securing security line (that’s literally what it was called). I approached the tight-panted, quite fine TSA employ (who would now check my ticket and ID for the eleventh time) completely out of breath. “Why were you running,” she asked. “Because I have ten minutes to catch this connecting flight and I already missed the first one,” I told her, smiling at the fact that I was going to catch the plane. “Well that’s just great,” she said, proceeding to then dash the ticket with her hot pink highlighter. “You’ve been randomly selected for additional screening.” Game over.

I spent the next forty minutes being picked, prodded and questioned by who can only be described as a TSA intern, who rubbed his little bomb residue reader cloth over every single item in each of my two carry-on bags. That includes my poster tube, green tea and chopsticks, because clearly those three items are central to my greater plan of taking over the world via an aircraft. While I sat there a black woman wearing a “Hong Kong rocks” T-shirt was also pulled aside. She was using a walker and wheeling an oxygen tank behind her. Terrorist? I think yes! I’m pretty sure the blind man was her partner in crime (no, seriously. They randomly screened a blind man). Per usual the TSA intern was trying to strike up a conversation. “So, where ya comin’ from and where ya goin’?” I tell him I’ve been in China. “Wow, musta been tough since they speak that weird picture language.” Yes. Yes. That was tough.

I ended up missing the next two flights and was eventually placed in the exit row of a prop plane full of about 50 people or so, including the blind man and the black woman. It’s just so odd to have left a developing country where people work so hard to create a better life, only to find people in my home being treated like criminals for the sake of “safety.” How many rights and freedoms do we have to give up before people realize that we’re actually losing our way of life to protect it. In the end, will there be anything left to save? Meanwhile, I’m just wondering what they did with that guy’s seeing eye dog…

Leaving On A Jet Plane

I’m sitting on my plane heading back to America feeling one part excited to see my family, one part sad to leave China, and three parts still shocked that it’s over. Already I’m feeling the return to the western world. The flight attendants have been insane about staying in your designated class and only using the toilets in your section, actually calling this an “FAA security measure.” So what, if I pee in first class that must mean I’m a terrorist? Then there’s the Sky Mall catalogue, full of really necessary stuff like the “Margarator,” (all one word) that solves that pesky problem of needing to make gallons and gallons of frozen Margaritas all at the same time. I’m bombarded with reminders of the world of excess from which I come, thinking constantly about those people in my Chinese neighborhood who were overjoyed at receiving a six-month old bathmat, or the look on the girl’s face when I gave her all my pocket change (around $5) on my last walk through the city. It’s like, does my cat really need the ultimate pet safety retractable travel tube, or would I rather this girl eat for the next six weeks?

At the same time I came to figure out this whole China thing. What’s it all about? Will they continue to rise or will it all go bust? Now, seven months later, I leave more confused that when I arrived, having added an additional twenty or thirty real-life variables to the equation. Yes, they’re growing at an astronomical rate, but can that be sustained? With more wealth comes a greater divide between rich and poor. Will those who are not feeling the impact of China’s opening get fed up with their place in society, demand a piece of the pie and eventually force a political collapse of the Communist regime? Is it really a Communist regime at all anymore? Everywhere I traveled, Capitalism and entrepreneurship were alive and well, from the billionaire who owns China’s largest chain of electronics stores to the man on the corner selling sugar cane. And lets not forget, the Chinese people are selfish! They want a better life! They want to reap the benefits of post-Mao, and I don’t blame them! After nearly fifty years of living under a scary Communist regime wouldn’t you want to build a better life too? Still, is it really possible for 1.3 billion people (more than the number of people in the Americas and Europe combined) to all be better off? I mean, that’s a lot of people. Right now they can afford to employ everyone for next to nothing, having people push buttons to open the elevator or stand at a store entrance to say hello. However, the more they develop and the more people at the top want to skim off the bottom, the fewer jobs there will be, which means growing unemployment, dissatisfaction and potential political disaster. People are greedy and the more money you’ve got, the more money it seems you want to have.

It’s still too early to answer any of these questions, but having some actual context from which to base my feelings on these matters is something remarkable. Indeed China is an enchanting place; ever changing, ever evolving and ever growing. It sure aint’ Kansas! I’ve survived a robbery, a mugging, being run over by a taxi, being screwed by a company, being screwed by a landlord and being screwed by cab drivers. I’ve been spit on, yelled at and discriminated against. At the same time, I’ve lived an entire lifetime of adventures and I’ve met people whom I know will be in my life forever. I spent my days teaching English to eager Chinese kids and my nights thinking about and discussing the future of China. There was no better time to be in China, both to experience the country and to grow as a person. I know this isn’t goodbye forever.

While China may have ended for now, my next adventure is just beginning! I’m traveling around the world beginning in April, so stay tuned for more ridiculous adventures, along with some incredible stories! The next six weeks will find me either on the beach in California, on the couch in California, or out with friends in Washington DC. Updates will continue, though on a less-frequent basis. I’m guessing my first few weeks back may be somewhat eye-opening (and equally hilarious). More soon, after a brief break in our regular programming. Be ready for a whole new channel, and check back often!