Mountains, monkeys, and magnificent temples - Nech does Springs, Sichuan, Saigon, and Siem Riep

Hey all. I've had quite a few adventures on my last few trips to 1: Guangzhou (formerly known as Canton, southern China's largest city) and nearby natural hot springs; 2: Chengdu (in China's Sichuan province), home of many of the world's remaining giant pandas and several of China's most picturesque mountains; 3: Vietnam, specifically Saigon and nearby island Phu Quoc in the Gulf of Thailand; and on the same trip 4: Siem Riep (in Cambodia), the site of Angkor Wat and the rest of Cambodia's magnificent ancient temple comlexes.

After returning from Vietnam and Cambodia, I took all my finals and for the past few days been enjoying the company of my fellow exchange students before we all part ways next week. I will be heading to Delhi and surrounding areas in northern India before heading in Nepal on my biggest adventure yet. There's a chance I'll write more on the blog about Guangzhou, Chengdu, Vietnam, or Cambodia during my first few nights in India, but don't count on it. More likely, I'll get to tell you in person when I get home (Jan 7).

Thanks all for reading; I've had a lot of fun and hope you have too,
godspeed,
nech

Bananas, babies, and beasting the Wall - Nech does Beijing

Hi all. Sorry for the long delay. As I’ve told some of you, I’ve been quite busy with a little homework, a lot of trip planning, and an inordinate amount of time spent organizing housing for next semester (living with my buddy Ayal Robkin on 41st and Spruce) and next year (with Mordechai, Danny, Brian, Ben, Ross, Jon, Jesse, and Ariel in 318 S 42nd). During my last Astrophysics lecture, we finally got together in an eight-person group gchat to iron out some final details.

Enjoy the many (slightly out of order) pictures (warning: doesn't work perfectly on google chrome.  also, any of the captions are greg's work, not mine).

Upon touching down in Beijing, Brian and I briefly parted from our group in order to celebrate Sebastian’s birthday with him and Johann at a club called something Banana. Or Banana something. We didn’t really know. So we found ourselves after much confusion at Coco Banana. “This is probably it; right, Brian?” “There can’t be that many Banana clubs in Beijing.” After a fruitless search in the dark, we approached an older white guy to ask for info. Noticing Brian’s sweatshirt, he shouted, “Wharton? USC!” and held out his fist for props. Amused, Brian asked if he knew of another Banana club. “Club Banana? That’s a gay club!”

He was clearly very drunk, so we decided to try to find it anyway.

Luckily, there was a giant sign for a GT Club Banana right outside, and we eventually persuaded a taxi driver to take us there. After again failing to find our boys, we gave up and danced away.

The next morning I found Sebastian. “So which club were you in?” “GT Club Banana.”

We were soon marching through Tianammen Square wearing our Wharton and U Wisconsin sweatshirts proudly before heading into the Forbidden City.

Though we enjoyed the beautiful architecture and journeys back into ancient emperors’ lives, we enjoyed even more the austere buildings’ names. Behind the Palace of Supreme Harmony stood the Palace of Medium Harmony and then the Hall of Preserving Harmony. The three-year-old emperors had fun in the Hall of Arts and Crafts and Hall of Toys while the older ones went left to the Hall of Martial Victory or right to Hall of Literary Glory; Bob refused to enter the Hall of Abstinence. Later on in the trip we encountered the Temple of Excessive Moisture.

We spent the night riding bikes through quiet alleys and walking alongside a
picturesque lake, chilling in dive bars and crashing a local Halloween party.

We escaped the city smoke the next day with a trip to the stunning Summer Palace, a historic royal retreat that puts Camp David to shame. We then hopped over to the glorious Olympic stadiums where we found ourselves to be nearly as big an attraction as the Bird’s Nest – Chinese tourists literally lined up to take pictures with us.

Particularly cute were a little boy who would hide behind people whenever we looked at him (he was trying to take pictures of us from a distance) and a super-cute baby dressed in a tiger suit who is probably now scarred for life after his mom tried to make him pose with us for a picture. Way too many vanilla faces for that little man.

At night we bargained down polo shirts and communist hats at the city’s historic Silk Market and got a taste of Beijing’s signature Peking Duck.

Our final task now remained – camping illegally on the Great Wall at Simatai. Armed with sleeping bags, tents, bagels, and furry communist hats, we got to the wall just before sundown, upset that the cable car had closed and that we would have to walk all the way up the mountain before even starting our wall hike. Our driver told us later that our timing was perfect; “The guards would have stopped you when they saw your gear; they just happened to be on a break

when you entered.” We raced up and pushed ourselves as far away from the entrance as we could climb in order to best escape the police. The night provided a beautiful sunset and a starry sky before we settled in the tents we had erected earlier in hope of some rest.

We had brought a two-person tent, one-person tent, and five sleeping bags for me, Brian, Greg, Vivian, and Mark. Then Bob decided to sleep on the wall too, and joined me and Brian in the one-person tent. One of us slept very well, stretching out and snoring loudly. I was in the middle and didn’t even have enough room to put my feet down next to each other or lie on my back. Midway through the night I heard Bob, “Hey Nech, you sleep at all?” “Nope.” “Think it’ll help if we switch positions?”

It didn’t.

We got out of the tent at 5 AM in order to see sunrise over the wall. Frozen, we retreated. An hour later we ventured out again, packed up, and hiked to the end of our wall section with time to spare.

Sixteen hours later I put my very own Great Wall stone on my bookshelf at UST.

If I have time, check back next week or this week for Nech does Qingyuan or Nech does Sichuan (or both).

Nech does Beijing

I'm working on the post and waiting for my groupmates pics to be uploaded. I've been delayed by some work and slight illness, but we'll get there soon.

Obama!

20,000 people on ecstasy and alcohol - Nech does Thailand (part II)

We returned from the trek with just enough time to shower and eat before Brian headed off to Yom Kippur services at Chabad. He got lost en route and arrived there well after sundown feeling flustered, sweaty, and not happy at all. Expecting white robes and long prayers, he was shocked to find instead a bunch of Israelis eating shawarma. When I got back to the room after (by chance) meeting up with other HKUST exchange students, I found this note:I still can’t look at that without cracking up.

For our next Chiang Mai adventure, we motor-biked up a mountain to the forest temple of Doi Suthep. It was incredible fun and we didn’t even crash once weaving through cars in the city or banking down sharp turns along the mountain road. Though we took some time finding a rhythm – Brian didn’t like the speed I chose when I was ahead but I didn’t like Brian not checking his rear-view mirror for me when he was ahead (not his fault, the mirror just didn’t go far out enough for him to see around his stomach) – we rode like pros by the end.

While we were sitting taking pictures of the temple’s largest Buddha, a Thai family approached a monk sitting on a stool nearby. He started mumbling something and sprinkling them with water and, noticing my interest, included me on the third or fourth round. As the family members approached one by one for a blessing, I felt intrusive and slowly inched away. Then the dad pointed at me. “You sure?” He responded with more motioning to me and the monk. Always up for a blessing from any peaceful man of the cloth, I shuffled over and put my hands together in a show of respect. After some more mumbling with his hand on my head, he took my hand and made me my very own white string bracelet. I’ve been lucky ever since.

In the following days, I took Thai cooking and Thai massage classes (a fellow New Yorker in the cooking class joked, “What girl are you trying to impress?”), saw some Muay Thai no-holds-barred boxing, tried to chat with student monks at the local temples, got a Thai haircut and shave, and turned down many advances from overeager ladyboys. But backtracking a bit – Brian has been gracious enough to not only let me write (undeserved) fat jokes about him, but also to share the following story:

Our first night in Chiang Mai, we found a little shop still offering massages at 11:30 PM. Many such parlors are known to offer “special” massages, so when I heard some discussion going on midway through over on Brian’s side of the curtain, I had a hunch what it was about. Though trying to mind my own business, I still couldn’t help but hear Brian repeat one word over and over – “non-negotiable.” Shockingly, the girl didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t just her price that Brian objected to. [Editor’s note – Brian wants me to make it abundantly clear that there was no “happy ending.”]

We arrived back in Bangkok on Thursday night with the single goal of seeing a ping pong show (we both love ping pong) before another flight the next morning. Sadly, we got lost looking for hostels that were closed anyway and missed the last shows, at which point we gave up and went into McDonalds for a drink. With no room booked and too tired to continue searching, we decided to camp out there and crash on couches in the relative safety and comfort of the golden arches. “You’ll laugh about it later, Brian.” “No I will not.” “C,mon, take a step back; think of the irony.” “There is nothing funny about this.”

Unrested, we spent most of the next day journeying to a backpacker-friendly island called Koh Phangan in southern Thailand. The island is most famous for its Full Moon parties on Haad Rin Beach that Brian’s friend described as “20,000+ people on ecstasy and alcohol dancing on a tiny beach.” Wanting to spend Shabbat in peace, we went instead to a more remote part of the island and enjoyed the private cabin, ocean-side restaurant, clean sand, and blue water that our isolated guesthouse afforded. After being together for so long, we ran out of normal things to talk about and conversation became increasingly desperate. "Hey Nech, would you date a decapitated head?" "If it had a nice smile." Saturday night we hopped over to Haad Rin to celebrate Brian’s birthday along with the hundreds (thousands?) of Israelis on vacation who had gathered there to celebrate the full moon that was to rise the night after we left. Creating the antidote before the poison, God arranged that the ocean was a mere thirty feet away from the flaming jump rope (even when sober, jumping rope on the beach is not easy). I wisely elected to pass.

After another day relaxing on the beach and a comfy night bus up to Bangkok, I hit up the 7 AM meditation class at Wat Mahatat and then enjoyed a final massage back on Khao San Road. Check back next week for Nech does Beijing.

Buddhas, elephants, and locals with bad social skills - Nech does Thailand (part 1)

“Beware of tuk-tuk [three-wheeled taxi] drivers who tell you that a popular attraction is closed and then generously offer to take you to an lesser-known but ‘better’ destination (for a fee, of course).” “Oh c’mon,” I said to myself as I read that sentence in Lonely Planet, “there’s no way they actually do that.”

Even so, when the first tuk-tuk driver told me about the election day ceremony that temporarily prevented entry to the Grand Palace, I declined his offer of an alternate location. Then I got the same story from another driver, two more people on the street, and a tourism agency who didn’t even offer another place to go. They wouldn’t lie just for the heck of it, would they? Still, I insisted they give me directions and, to my credit, I continued towards the Palace. Or at least I thought I did; the book didn’t warn me that they would also give bad directions.

Eventually, I found Wat Phra Kaew with its famous emerald Buddha, the stately Grand Palace, the giant reclining Buddha of Wat Pho, and the rising spires of Wat Arun. And, to top it off, a Thai slurpee.

Later, I felt a tap on my back while walking up Khao San Road, Bangkok’s backpacker central. Surprised, I turned and found a friend from my first Wharton class, Management 100. He was studying abroad in Australia and also traveling in Thailand with a Penn friend. “I’m really impressed you recognized me,” I said at the end, “I must have walked right by you.” “Truth be told,” Eric responded, “with your hat, sunglasses, and giant backpack, I couldn’t tell who you were. But that [pointing at the Management 100 shirt I was wearing] gave you away.” Cohort Rupee represent.

After flying with Brian north to Chiang Mai Sunday night, we embarked Monday on our two day trek in Mae Hong Son led by Bowy and joined by two Dutch girls. After stops at the butterfly garden and elephant riding(!) (they’re huuuge!)(but not nearly as huge as the giant Buddha), we began the first part of our hike – 3.5 hours through mud and streams up a mountain. We arrived at a small village before dusk, wet and tired. Brian and I eagerly accepted a “local” massage, something we both had extensive experience with (12 hours combined at $3-6 per hour, plus a six hour course for me). But this was no ordinary massage.

And no, it wasn’t a “special” massage either.

The fun began even before we started, when we attempted to ask for the two younger masseuses instead of the 80 year-old shriveled woman. So awkward. And very unsuccessful.

At first, I got one of the younger ones and Bri had the grandma. He looked at me menacingly “I hate you. You did this on purpose.” I was laughing too hard to respond. Suddenly, they switched. Oh joy. Then, the other woman jumped in and started massaging Brian’s feet. “Hey Nech, do you see the one near my feet?” “Yah.” “She’s only using one hand.” “So?” “The other hand is holding a baby.”

Soon they start motioning to Brian and pointing at his stomach. “You very big!” ***DISCLAIMER - Brian is normal sized; to Thai people, all Americans are very big*** they declared as they spread their hands apart the width of his tummy; the women repeated this many times to make sure he understood. “Thanks, guys.” “Don’t worry Bri, you look great.” Meanwhile, I’m still being pummeled by the old woman while dying with laughter. It didn’t help when one of the women motioned to her three year old son and pointed at Brian’s arm, saying something in their local dialect. Now, in addition to the two women and the baby surrounding him, he also had the little dude poking his arm.

It was the only time we ever got five masseuses (six, if you count the two-year old daughter standing next to us). Though, to be fair, a later masseuse did tell me that my butt is “full.”

Other massage parlors advertised fragrant candles, peaceful music, air conditioning, and oil. Here we got random villagers walking in to stare at us. And each time, the women would demonstrate exactly how big Brian was. All the while, they were chatting and laughing at us. “What do you think they’re saying?” “Did you see that one’s butt? He’s bigger than an elephant.” “I know! He’s so fat, he’s got more Chins than a Hong Kong phonebook.” “Ha ha ha ha.”

Least relaxing massage ever.

The next day we continued the trek with a lot of mosquito bites (our nets at night were only partially effective), some more hiking, a pretty waterfall, and rafting. By late afternoon, we were back in Chiang Mai.

Check back next week for part two of Nech does Thailand.

Inside and out - Nech does Judaism in Hong Kong

I've been a bit busy since returning from Thailand and have been unable to devote enough time to write a good post for that. So for this week, check out a little reflection I wrote in response to a prompt asking for essays on Jewish experiences abroad:


I am a Jew studying abroad in Hong Kong.

I’ve eaten Sabbath dinner with a local Jewish family, translated my Hebrew name for dozens of people, and befriended the other Jewish exchange students. I’ve compared Jews’ and Asians’ material success in my Hong Kong Society class , debated Sabbath prohibitions with a religious friend, explained the dietary laws to locals, and squirmed while being served baby octopus, diced dog, and congealed pigs’ blood.

Through it all I sensed my Jewish roots hanging over me.

When I felt my religion most, however, I was nowhere near Jews, holidays, rituals, or even food.

I was walking back to my room one Thursday morning after class, hoping for a quick nap that would enable me to stay awake for the five lectures still to come. As I was crossing the bridge-link, I noticed a Chinese boy struggling with two pieces of luggage. He was panting, sweating, and taking breaks every few steps. He hadn’t even reached the stairs.

Dozens of other students passed by. And I, too, after stopping for a brief moment of pity, continued down the steps.

A few words, though, kept reverberating in my head. “Thou shalt not see thy brother's ass or his ox fallen down by the way, and hide thyself from them – thou shalt surely help him to lift them up again (Deut. 22:4);” “thou shalt surely assist him (Ex. 23:5).” The poetry of the Biblical Hebrew rang even stronger, “hakeim takim imo;” “azov ta’azov imo.”

I am living in a different society with very specific rules. I cannot make eye contact with an elder or point the teapot at anyone during Yam Cha; I should avoid tipping waiters and putting soy sauce on my rice. I must wait to unwrap gifts, use both hands when giving an item, and belch loudly after a hearty meal to declare my satisfaction.

The Lonely Plant culture guide says nothing about a twenty-three year old chemistry student holding a Mickey Mouse duffel.

I reached the bottom and looked up. He fumbled to reposition his bags as he approached the stairs; his face betrayed a sense of defeat. I turned around, walked back up, and offered him a hand. His name is Xie Ni, shorthand for one of the few Mandarin phrases I know. It means, “thank you.”

I am living in a different society with very new people. I am sleeping across from Sun-Tan and Fai instead of Mordechai and Daniel. I am learning about Confucius and Mao instead of Moses and Akiba. I am wearing a white string from a Buddhist monk in a forest temple instead of a red string from an old woman at the Western Wall.

I am no longer living in a Jewish bubble. But as far as I’ve gone from external Jewish influences, they remain powerful within.

How I became a badass - Nech does Shenzhen

In the days following my most trip to the mainland, several exchange students have greeted me with the same excited sentiment, "Whoa, I heard what happened. You're so badass!"

This is how it went down.

On the way back from Guilin, Greg and I broke off from the group (no more Lance to guide us) to spend a day in Shenzhen, which is right across the border from Hong Kong and famous for its illegal DVD’s, cheap massages, and fake clothes and accessories. There we walked in circles looking for an archway we never found, bargained with physically abusive storekeepers, felt very shady in drug deal-esque DVD purchases, and scored some $3 (U.S) ‘Nike’ shirts.

Browsing through a pile of fake Giordano polos on the street while wearing a full backpack and holding 3 plastic bags of clothes, I felt a bump on my side. Suspicious, I reached into my pocket and shouted at Greg, “My wallet’s stolen!”

Thank you Tom Clancy for teaching me what a professional pickpocket feels like.  Because as much as getting pickpocketed sucks (and it does; I felt like an absolute fool), if I was right about that bump, the thief could not have gone far. Looking up and around, I saw an older man about 15 feet down an alley walking away from me with his hand by his back pocket. If I wanted to see my wallet again, it was now or never. It was the most intense call I've had to make.

I started running.

He started running too.

He turned into an empty building. Heart pounding, I followed. He ducked into a staircase. I got within six steps barreling down full speed.

Suddenly, he stopped, turned, and threw me my wallet. Stunned, I watched him walk to the bottom of the stairs. Not knowing if he took anything from the wallet and not wanting to lose him in case he did, I ran to catch up with him, now in a crowded basement market, and grabbed his arm. Nothing missing. I let go.

Apparently, he did not want to mess with me.

Badass.

Or stupid.  Still haven't decided.

Trembling after the adrenaline rush (I'm a wuss at heart), I retraced my steps and showed off the reclaimed wallet to Greg; after taking too long to process my shout to join the chase, he had been teaching the surrounding vendors some choice English curse words. The ladies at the stands gave me thumbs up. “Did you buy that already?” Greg asks, motioning to the polo shirt I had inadvertently stolen as I bolted from the shop and had completely forgotten was in my hand. I could barely keep my fingers still enough to pay.

The shirt was actually ugly, but what the heck.

They let me exchange it for another one anyway after I calmed down.

Check back next week for Nech does Thailand. (I rode an elephant yesterday!)

Modeling and Duck Hunt - Nech does Guilin

Our final day in Yangshua, a small town near Guilin, we stopped at a village populated by an aboriginal minority group still living a primitive lifestyle. As I was testing out their old-school mill, two giggling Chinese girls about my age came over, clearly intending to take a picture with it. But when I tried to get out of the way, they started giggling even more, saying, "No no no." Confused, I ventured my best Mandarin guess at "what do you want?" - "ni yall shamah." Now they were doubled over laughing. I looked over to Christine for confirmation; "you said it right," she told me later, "I just don't think they were expecting it." After a minute or two of this, I figured out that they did want a picture holding the mill wheel; they just wanted me to be in it too. "Cute," I thought. We take the pic and I start walking away to join my friends when a middle-age Chinese guy tapped my shoulder and motioned back to the mill. As my buddies applauded my new celebrity status, I posed with the guy, his friend, and a six-year-old boy who didn't quite know what to make of me.

Later that day, Greg, Maarten (whose dirty blond hair also attracted Chinese tourists), Rachel, and I made a gang sign to flash at the other vanilla faces we passed by. Christine and Lance, as helpful as they were with their fluent Mandarin, were not invited to participate.

Guilin is a city in southeast China known for its uniquely vertical mountains and ancient caves. There we ski-lifted up to the top of a famous mount to get a panoramic view of its unique nearly vertical hills and rode down using toboggans on a metal track. After the first of what would eventually be 4 stalagmite/stalactite caves, we had some exciting street food at the market, tasted the local tea, and prepared for an early start to Yangshua.

There we crashed an ancient Buddhist temple, a 1600 year old Banyan tree, and dragon caves before taking a cruise on scenic Li River (background to the 20 Yuan bill). After witnessing a dog being chopped up in the local market, we headed over to the water theater for a traditional show produced by the same dude who did the Olympic opening ceremony this year and acted out by local farmers. The next day we biked, first to the minority village and then down a very rocky path through a rural village down to the water/mud caves, where we got very very dirty and floated like in the Dead Sea.

Lunch that day proved to be an adventure in itself. Having already caught our own fish from the tank for Friday’s lunch, Greg and I asked if we could watch them pick the duck for our main dish. So the two of us and Maarten followed an old lady a shed where she opened a door to a corridor 15 feet long and 3 feet wide. At the other end were 5 ducks cowering in a corner. She gestures for us to go in, but stays outside. Apparently we had asked to catch the duck ourselves. Greg goes to the ducks, I move to the middle, and Maarten hangs to the door. Greg lunges. Ducks go crazy. Greg freaks out. Lunges again. Ducks waddle/flap past Greg towards me. Maarten escapes outside and shuts the door. I bend down and quack at the ducks to force them back into the corner. Same thing happens again. I’m laughing so much my face hurts. Ducks finally calm down, frozen with fright. Greg calms down too and finally gets one by the neck. We retreat before the other ones attack.

An hour later we were picking Donald's bones from our teeth.

I'm going to Thailand for 10 days (woohoo!) and won't be able to post about that till the Wednesday after (October 15). In the meantime, check back next week for the story that Tal Raviv gave a "Wow x 30" in "How I became a badass - Nech does Shenzhen."

Chilling with Hong Kong Humans - Nech does hiking with the Yo-Hoo club

One of the other exchange students on the camping trip remarked that she had been calling one of the group leaders, "Human" for the past week.
"You mean Tommy?"
"Ohhhh, maybe that's it."
Though Dana was referring to Tommy, I discovered soon after that there was indeed a person on the trip named Human. "You a monster," he said smiling, "Me Human."

Dong Ping Chou is the eastern-most island of Hong Kong and directly across from the city of Shenzhen in mainland China. After train and boat rides to reach the island, we set up tents, had lunch, and embarked on a four hour hike/scavenger hunt circling Ping Chou. Barbecue dinner followed, which included an exchange-student led lesson on how to make s'mores.

It was only that night, though, when I finally realized my dream. After waking up in the tent with a mouse on my forehead, I decided it was time to whip out my hammock and sleep out on the beach under the stars. Within minutes it was set up and hours later I woke up in the shade. True to the hammock's slogan, "It beat the ground."

After a day spent in the water mostly laying on my back but also helping out a bit building our bamboo and garbage bag raft for racing (we lost badly), I arrived back in UST even tanner than I'd been before.

Water activities continued the next day when Brian and I borrowed (as per Tal's advice) UST kayaks and paddled out to a nearby island with little shacks and a little beach.

Tuesday afternoon the typhoon struck. Fun! Wednesday I finally played ping pong again with Jovian, who I initially met at Penn last year while he was on exchange (we met playing ping pong in Rodin). He was on the team here, which means he's darn good. I'm about to do my first homework of the semester...wish me luck.

Check back next week for Nech does Guilin. Happy New Year!

Where tricycles aren’t just for kids – Nech does the Philippines

There I was, passing through security with Sebastian, Johann, Jesper, Maximillion, and another Sebastian en route to Boracay, the Philippines’ premier beach island. The security guard inspected out passports and chuckled, “Four Germans… and an American?!” (To be fair, we also had a Swede.)

We arrived in Boracay wearing our matching SEAIR tanktops we had just purchased on the airplane. Leftover typhoon rain later forced a wet retreat from the ocean; that day we started drinking at 3. 6 hours later I was getting beaten in foosball by some guy Filipinos (the girls, though, were easy). 5 more hours later I was playing drums at a bar on the beach (I only played for one song; Max, who was much more drunk but still much better than I was, played a dozen).

The next day, after an oil massage, we took our first tricycle ride across the island on the way to pick up our ATVs. These vehicles are brave but weak; we almost had to get out and push to get up some of the hills. After riding the ATV’s to a hilltop, we walked up some steps only to be greeted by a cockfight (don’t worry – no metal claws) and monkeys. By the end of Saturday, I think I was the only member of the group not to have danced with a prostitute or transsexual (or both).

After a lot more beach, sailing, and snorkeling on Sunday, we returned to Manila for Monday. Our only experience thus far had been our first night in the Philippines before our transfer to Boracay, when we met a very friendly cockroach named Alex who seemed to want to assist us in our vintage (a large bucket of water with a smaller pitcher inside) shower. The rest of the city was not much better (except for the street urinals), so after 2.5 hours of driving around the city, we elected to wait at the airport instead for five hours (where I learned about the German school system). Still, Manila is the only place I’ve seen that has fully uniformed security guards in a 7-11.

On the flight home I won a very precious Cebu Pacific backpack and luggage tag by being the first person to correctly answer “Lord of the Rings” in the movie quote game. I’ll let you guess what the quote was.

Stay tuned for next week – Nech does hiking with the Yo-hoo Club (after Shabbat dinner with Brian at the Einhorns).

Nech and Michelle go to 7-11

I feel that being on exchange not only gives me license to travel on weekends, but also to be more adventurous the rest of the time.

Take Tuesday night. It started innocently enough. Swimming, dinner, and off with Michelle for a quick slurpee run.
After walking 15 minutes to the local 7-11 and finding it slurpee-less, we decided to continue on the road in the hopes of finding another. 20 minutes later still no 7-11, but, after getting ice cream from a gas station, we did see a path leading up into the forest. We took it.

There were no lights except for my cell phone and we had nothing in our pockets besides our school ID cards and less than $10 [U.S.].

Immediately we started going down steep steps until we passed some local tombs with remnants of incense. "Probably for the mountain god," Michelle suggested.

At this point we had already gone down about 200 steps, and the prospect of going back up was unappealing. We knew that if we continued down, we may have to go back up even more, but the potential of not walking up (and slurpees) was tempting. Thinking of Harold and Kumar, I decided on the slurpees. "We're on exchange," I said, "Let's have some fun."

So we continued. Down and down and down. We crossed over a couple streams, picked left at a fork in the path, found a swivel chair in the middle of a clearing, and (after about 1.25 hours) finally found a road. We were in Po Lam, right by the metro station. A little relieved, slightly bitten up by mosquitoes, and reasonably sweaty, we got back to school twenty minutes later.

But not before getting our slurpees.

New horny dicky club - Nech does Taiwan

Having been repeatedly disappointed with the Mandarin capabilities of Hong Kong's citizens, BFink and I were very excited to finally show off our new language skillz in the generally Mandarin speaking Taiwan. Unfortunately, we weren't entirely ready for the challenge - within hours after arriving, Brian managed to turn "Do you want to have lunch with me" to "Do you want to f*** with me over lunch."
Either way, Friday we (me, Brian, Mikhail, Tiffany, Tiffany's Taiwanese friend [who Brian so crudely propositioned], and the friend's friend) bounced around Taipei for a bit before settling in our hotel, leaving Brian to rest, and then heading out to Taipei's famous night market.Emboldened, Mikha and I tried some local street food, most memorably stinky tofu - even if it had tasted good, nothing is worth that stench. The next day we went up to the observatory deck of the (pre-2005) tallest skyscraper Taipei 101 before happening upon a performance by the winners of Taiwanese Idol and then visiting the memorial of Taiwan's ideological founder, Sun Yat-sen.
That night we discovered the new horny dicky club.
Unfortunately, that boy was not the only person who clearly had no idea what his t-shirt said. Two minutes later, we ran into "FREE! You do take me home!! Right now!! Cock and bun." Then we stumbled upon a goldmine in a store called "100% American" that was filled with shirts no American would dare wear outside. The winners included "Aggressive Town," "Topological Variation," and of course "You might say that all do it way created in love." For fun, I even went for the Fobby* look at one point.
Sunday, Brian and I woke up early to journey to Taiwan's breathtaking Taroko Gorge. Rebuffed by more than a dozen mo-ped rental rentals after arriving in the nearby city of Haulian, we managed to screw up our once real chance by admitting we'd never ridden them before. Another bus ride and several rain storms later, we found ourselves on a Chinese tour bus hitching a ride up from the park entrance to the gorge so we could salvage what was left of the day.
But salvage we did. After an intensely uphill but nice hike (in my naot), we meditated on a rope bridge suspended over the gorge. Later, after a nice walk along the gorge, we were in dire need of a ride to the bus station when we were rescued by 3 Canadians on mo-peds that we had met earlier during the hike. So much fun riding those things. Since we had some time to kill before catching our train back, we had dinner back in Haulian where we met Jhun Hin, whose job at the restaurant consisted entirely of getting people beer. Amused by our attempts at Mandarin and enraptured by our stunning good looks, she stayed with us for much of the meal and even gave us travel chopstix and a little screwdriver set (both sponsored by Taiwanese beers) as parting gifts.
Rounding out the trip with a Monday morning that included the National Palace Museum(host to some of China's finest treasures) Chiang-Kai Shek memorial (Taiwan's founder) and one of Taiwan's oldest temples (beautiful), by 6:00 PM we found ourselves back in Hong Kong - a mere 3 days before setting out again. Check back next week for Nech does the Philippines.

HKUST - The First Days

It's been a full week since I've arrived at HKUST so I figured it's about time I shared the wealth.

After being met at the airport by some nice HKUST students, about 20 of us who arrived that Wednesday morning (including my good buddy Michael Ruah) boarded a coach bus and headed over to the UST. It was (and is) hot and humid, but the view was (and is) spectacular.
Located on a steep hill on the coast of Clear Water Bay, the university is afforded a panoramic view of mountainous islands and ocean from both the main buildings (which have partially open walls) and most of the dorms. We even got a beautiful beach 20 minutes away (went on Monday).

Most fun has been meeting the people. It's kinda a rewind to freshman year: anytime you see a white guy or gal (or a Chinese kid speaking perfect English) it's permissable to introduce yourself and start chatting. But this time 'round people aren't just from Nebraska, Michigan, and Texas, but also Germany, Sweden, and Spain. Meeting Europeans though does have a downside - I have proven myself to be a complete American when it comes to knowing geography (like when I was surprised that Slovakia still existed upon meeting a kid from there last night). And being Jewish can mix things up a bit too: A couple days ago, my new good friend Sebastian (from Frankfurt) noticed I was wearing my Jew-Black alliance t-shirt. Guessing (correctly) that I wasn't black, he asked hesitantly, "So, you're Jewish?" and then, "What do you think about Germans?" (Later on I got to ask what he thought of Hitler.)

Meeting local students works a bit differently. Contrary to what we expected, not only do they have a lot of trouble with English, but they also have very poor Mandarin. Still, Brian and I tend to lead off with the classic
"wu shu mei gua ren" (I am american) - at which point they start smiling

, "wu chway shwa idiar Putonghua" (I speak a little Mandarin) - Now they're sometimes impressed, sometimes laughing, sometimes confused

and "wu Putonghua shwa da boo how" (I speak Mandarin poorly) - shake their heads vigorously and give thumbs up or say "hen how, hen how" (very good, very good)

with girls we sometimes add "ni hen mei" or "ni hen pial lian" (you are very beautiful). Works every time.

As for exploring the city, so far I've been to Stanley Market and Victoria Peak, both popular tourist destinations, as well as parts of central Hong Kong (including the bars of Lan Kwai Fong), Victoria harbor, the night market, and Macao for a day (won $50 Hong Kong). Most fun though was my first Karaoke bar experience. For 3 hours we (14 students, including 4 locals) ate, drank, played, and sang. For those of you who are curious, there are embarrassing videos of me singing "pump it" and soulja boy" up on facebook. I even sung some of the Mandarin songs we played (though I can't read any Mandarin characters) and fooled several people for a good 40 seconds before they realized I was just making random "chi chai wong tu" sounds (not videoed).

Food here is amazing. Not only do I get Chinese food (which I love) every day, It's also usually been less than $3 (U.S.) per meal with surprisingly large portions. In Macao we had a "hot pot" meal, which meant that they put boiling pots (each with a spicy and clear section) around the table, and then we ordered raw food which we cooked ourselves so it was constantly hot and freshly made. And trust me, you do not want to hear which new kinds of food I tried that day.

I think that's 'nuff for now, but stay tuned for next week's post - Nech does Taiwan

8.5 Hours in Tokyo - Nech does Japan

That's right. Already delayed one night in Detroit, I opted to delay myself even more by convincing NWA to allow me to stay the night in Tokyo.. Initially offered 9:45 or 11 AM flights the next morning, I was given a 7 AM flight instead without paid hotel. I figured this was ok - I could still spend the night in Tokyo and return to the airport in the morning. The girl waiting on line next to me was less certain. "You know", she said, "people in Japan don't speak English very much."
"Don't worry, I speak Mandarin."
"Putonghua??!!" [Mandarin]
"id'ar" [a little]
She grimaced.

I was wrong about about staying in Tokyo overnight. Tokyo was a 1.5 hour train ride from Narita, and the first train only arrived 6:30 AM; I needed to board at 6 AM. I decided to just sleep on a bench in the airport instead. And by the time I got my new ticket, some Yen, 3 maps, 2 train schedules, a tourist guide from the information booth, and arrived in Tokyo, it was already 2:30 and the last train back to Narita was 11 PM.

In those 8.5 hours in Tokyo, I got to see the imperial palace, meditate in Tokyo's oldest Buddhist Temple (I got a good fortune), take a boat down the central river, walk around a Japanese mall, enjoy a stroll over Rainbow Bridge, and ride up Tokyo's tallest tower.

As exciting as that was, the real adventure came only when I left Tokyo at 11 PM. Though I had been successfully albeit slowly navigating the metro until then, I missed one of the transfers on the way to Narita. Luckily, I realized this a mere two stops later. Unluckily, that was still five minutes too late and I was stuck for the night in the random Japanese city of Abiko. At least it was safe in the train station.

Then the station closed. After failing to convince security to allow me to stay, I found myself stranded on the street.

So that's how I found myself huddled up in a nook in front of a hair salon two stories up overlooking a little convenience store (open 24 hours) and a parking lot containing 3 cabs. Every once in a while some people would walk into the store. Sometimes they were drunk. Every time I heard footsteps I would jump a bit. Thankfully, nobody came up those stairs. I figured it was a bad idea to go to sleep, so I stayed up and read The Audacity of Hope.

At 5 AM the station opened and I got hot chocolate from a machine.
At 5:30 I boarded the first train to Narita, which only got in at 6:30. Uh oh (I had found this out the night before, but I had no real alternative).
At 6:30 I ran from the station to my best guess as to the departure area. Nobody was there. Fortunately, my guess was right, because I finally find one guy who asks as I'm approaching, "Hong Kong?", which apparently was the only flight leaving before 8 AM. He rushes me over somewhere, where I showed my ticket, put my bag through security, but then was told that I was too late.

Ten minutes later I was on the plane. Four hours later I was in Hong Kong, 60 hours after I had left New York. I was very ready for a change of clothes and some deoderant.

Then I noticed a paper stuck to an upside-down container on the luggage carousel.

"NECHEMYA ELIEZER KAGEDAN, please see NWA ground staff for baggage information."

I did eventually get my bag - another 30 hours later.

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Introduction

Hey you! If you're reading this, it means that you are too lazy to get off your butt and go to China and want to live vicariously through me instead. Or you just care about me and want to see how I'm doing. Either way, I've had a few requests to keep people updated, so I figured I'd give it a shot. As much as I'll try to limit my posts to super-funny and/or exciting happenings, I am not a super-funny or exciting person, so don't get your hopes up too high.
In order to keep me posting and you knowing when to read, I will guarantee a new post every other Wednesday - beginning with yesterday, August 20.
If you like it, feel free to talk about it by the water cooler and check back every once in a while. It'll be here. Much thanks to Tal Raviv for his inspiration in my journey and BFink among others who will be joining me in HKUST.
I'd love to hear from y'all about how your doing, so please shoot me an e-mail or even reply to a post (if you want your voice to be heard by my legions of readers).

With love and (hopefully) wit,
miss you all already,
Nech

What not to do when getting your visa

After running into some technical difficulties trying to get my Chinese visa, I found my savior - Fiona (Chen), my friend Guli's travel agent. I call her and hear a voice say, "ni hou." Somewhere in my brain, the Mandarin tapes I've been listening to tell me that that means "hello" in Mandarin, and I should flex my new skillz and say "ni hou" back.

I stammer a "hi." Strike one.

Either way, we get past that and my butchering of Minguang Zhu (Guli's dad) (his name, not that actual dad), and work out the details. I print out my bank account statement, visa form, flight itinerary to hong kong, passport picture, get a bank check, and stick all that and my passport in a usps priority mail envelope at the post office. I weigh it, add a bunch of stamps, seal it closed, and stick it in the mail box.

Two blocks later i realized that i had written no address. Or return address. Strike two.

I go to china in three weeks and just lost my passport.

So I mosey back to the post office right in front of the mailbox, but they didn't have the key to open it. Now it was 4:45 and I had been skipping work for the last hour and a half. I realized that my best bet was to wait until the mailman came at 5:30, but that was a long time to wait and my long absence at work was probably a little suspicious. So I, foolishly, abandon the mailbox to go to my office for a few minutes, grab a book and return at 5:00 to continue my stalk. By 6:30 still no mailman and I had to leave; apparently he had come in those 15 minutes I was at work. Thus, I abandoned my passport to fate.

Strike 3.

But before i went, out of desperation I wrote 2 notes to the anonymous mailman who may yet have held my fate in his hands, each explaining what had happened. I added the address of the travel agent and put one inside the mailbox and the other set to pop out when the box was opened.

After 3 days of suspense, I e-mailed Fiona to ask if she got the package. (Not that I thought she had gotten it; at this point I was really hoping that they opened up the envelope, found my passport and bank statement, and sent it to my house.)


I finally get the reply - "Got it yesterday, no problems."

whew.

anonymous mailman: you are my hero