Avez-vous des souvenirs?

Got souvenirs?

This topic has been bugging me for some time. As you may know, I went on a road trip at the beginning of the summer with the intention to visit some places I had visited long ago and some places I had yet to visit but had always wanted to see. I never planned to take lots of pictures and create an amazing travelogue, something to equal tourism pamphlets. It was a personal trip. I only started taking pictures to send them home to prove I was where I was at each major stop, such as the Badlands of South Dakota, Devil's Tower in Wyoming, and Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks.

I also did not plan to gather souvenirs. Yet I did. I should've known better, given my recent battle with souvenirs. But what do we mean by 'souvenir'? From French, the word means 'to remember'; hence, a thing that helps you remember a person, place, or event. A memento. Fair enough. But we have photos on our phones (if not in our cameras), and we have memories stuck in our heads. We have music which holds memories, too. So why the need for tactile objects ("objects-de-tactile") to place in our homes and look at occasionally, perhaps pick up and rub in our hands to briefly restore that ephemeral vision of a lost time and place?

It began with my grandparents who traveled around the world from the early days of commercial aviation to well into their retirement. They collected souvenirs from everywhere they visited - long before the shift to limiting how much you could bring onto an airplane. They stuffed souvenirs into every nook and cranny of their home. They gave many souvenirs to my mother (their daughter) and some to me. I was fascinated by all the things from far-away lands. That probably was what got me interested in traveling like them.

My mother tried to follow the family pattern by going on her own trips to places around the world. And she collected souvenirs - some of which I thought worthless. She put them around her home. She bought a curio cabinet just to display some of them. Looking back, I might suggest she was trying to keep up with her parents. The difference was that her parents brought back things which were unique, items you could only get if you went to those far-away places. By the time my mother did her international traveling, those same items could be found in stores in any suburban mall and weren't so unique.

When it was my turn - I actually lived overseas for some years - I tried to be more selective. For example, I brought back boxes of dishes and other typical kitchen items from Japan, intending to replicate a Japanese-style kitchen back home in the US. I bought plenty of other things, too, focusing on what would remind me of this or that adventure in the place. And, once home, how did I display them? With limited space and an apartment rather than a house, I couldn't hang them up or put out everything to remind me of the trips I'd taken. Move after move required me to put them into boxes anyway; gradually, I stopped unpacking those boxes.

And that brings us to the Hurricane that swept through the Texas coast and destroyed my parents' retirement condo just off the beach. I spent a lot of time salvaging the souvenirs from that place. Who cares about clothing on hangers or dishes and cups? What about the sacks of bank records, or every kind of receipt imaginable? No, it was that curio cabinet's wares that I took. Also, my mother's coin collection she thought would be valuable one day (her father had collected rare coins, too, but her brother inherited that). I carefully packed the souvenirs into boxes - only the souvenirs I personally thought were "cool".

The boxes of my parents souvenirs remain unpacked. No room for them. So I'm passing them down to the next generation. I've traveled a bit and will pass along those things, too. But a t-shirt reminds me where I was and I can wear it now. A magnet stuck to the fridge reminds me where I got it. (A magnet given to me has no power; only those I buy for myself while I'm at the place work.) A book, even if unrelated to the location where I bought it, jogs my memory about where I bought it. For example, at the visitor center in the Badlands National Park, I happened to see a book I'd been searching for off and on and bought it finally. I can wear my Montana State University t-shirt and remember that perfectly fine day in early June when I walked the campus, devoid of students, and enjoyed myself.

The point I dare make is that we don't need souvenirs. Sure, they bring a thrill in the moment, and perhaps a few moments later on. But we already have those memories; we can just bring them up to the surface. Maybe seeing a thing can help, maybe it doesn't matter. What does matter is that souvenirs pile up, get boxed up, get passed along, and unless destroyed by a hurricane, tend to last forever - and that's a mighty-long time. Even so, I still bought another t-shirt and mug on my latest trip back to that condo on the beach - sold and repurposed as a rental unit - just to have some closure to the place where my parents last lived.

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(C) Copyright 2010-2023 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

On The Road Again - 3

My Summer Road Trip, part 3

I understand the expectation of an exciting, grandiose travelogue that thrills the imagination, but this is not it. It's personal. I had particular goals for my trip and I achieved all of them and went home. Not too exciting. But wait! There's more!

In both 2013 and 2019 my travel took me north along the extreme eastern edge of South Dakota. I wanted to go west this time. After visiting Devil's Gulch, about 5 miles inside of South Dakota, I proceeded westward and quickly found myself in vast grasslands. And the continuing I-90 construction project, often down to single lanes for 20 miles at a stretch.

Having seen it in social media posts, I wanted to visit the 50-foot tall statue called "Dignity" in the center of the state, on a bluff overlooking the Missouri River as it meanders south from North Dakota. I was excited as I approached the riverside town of Chamberlain and looking far ahead I could anticipate great views of the valley. I also craved a place to stop for a rest. However, the I-90 construction caused the exit ramp to the rest stop where the statue stood to be closed! I quickly looked around for other ways off the highway but there were none I could see as the road swung down to the bridge crossing the wide river. I could turn my head and catch a glimpse of the statue as I left it behind.

Disappointed, I drove on through the vast grasslands. My next destination was going to be the Badlands National Park, but measuring the angle of the sun and checking the fuel gauge, I knew I wouldn't make it today. I checked the map for possible towns with hotels. Never having gone this way, it was a bit distressing. I know the young whippersnappers would whip out one of them there smart phones and before you can say "G.P.S." they'd get me the name of a hotel I could stop at. Well, first, I was driving alone and handling a phone at the same time, especially in the concentrated manner required for research, would be dangerous and illegal. And, second, I had a good ol' paper map, folded properly, offering me the big picture, not some tiny square of what'sthatthere? nobody could figure out.

Fortunately, I decided on an extreme option: turning north into the great unknown (sure, I had a map but this spot was nothing but green) to find a room for the night in Pierre, the state capital. The trick was to boldly go where nobody but bison had gone before. Literally in the middle of nowhere. Grassland everywhere and a single strip of blacktop running to somewhere over the next rise. Eyes on the road, on the fuel gauge, out the windows on each side, calculating the time of the sunset. I arrived out of breath and found the small capital (15,000 people) to be charming, set on the edge of the Missouri River, upstream from the Dignity statue.

Being a state capital there seemed to be something going on that evening and hotels were full. I took a room nobody wanted: the Captain's suite in the ritziest joint in town, and paid dearly for it - but glad to have it! I had a fine Italian dinner in the restaurant next door and reviewed my plans in my room, soaking in the Jacuzzi tub (and used the shower stall in the morning). The next morning, gassed up and ready to go, I traversed the same road heading south through the grasslands with no other vehicles in sight until I reconnected with I-90.

Constantly checking my paper map, so elegantly and artistically folded, I eventually arrived at the eastern entrance to the Badlands National Park. My plan was to drive through it going west and exit back to I-90 to continue west. When I pulled up to the entrance gate, I saw that I could buy a senior lifetime membership which would pay for itself if I visited three national parks* - which I already planned to do on this trip.

I will let the pictures do my talking. Let me just say, however, that this is one bad land. I mean, it is so bad yo mama wouldn't ever hike there! Sure, I'd seen pictures of the place but it's never the same seeing it for yourself. Sometimes it is underwhelming, often overwhelming. This badland view was initially overwhelming, stopping at one of the more famous view points. As I drove through and by much of the same kind of rock formations, it became less interesting. But I had my Senior. Lifetime. Member card and was determined to see everything.

As I drove along the winding, hilly park road, the landscape changed dramatically and it seemed I wanted to stop every mile or so to take more pictures. It took several hours to traverse the park, including a stop at the visitor center, walking through the geological museum, restroom, buying a Badlands t-shirt. I developed a sunburn, but I got plenty of fresh air and sunshine. I did not go on any hikes although there are plenty of trails. I was on a loose deadline, after all.

Then I exited - slowing for a herd of wild bison just sitting there off the road with no fence to keep them from harassing me - and entering the town of Wall, famous for its giant "drug store". It actually is a huge emporium selling all sorts of goods, not just medicine, and seems to occupy half the town. I had an excellent bison burger in a cafe inside the place but did not spend more time there than to browse a couple souvenir shops. It could easily be a full day's stop in itself.

But the day was still young and I calculated my afternoon: on to Rapid City, swing down to visit Mt. Rushmore, and then rush a little more back north for the night.

NEXT: The Four Tops and the Devil's Tower

*This is not the same National Park that features in my pandemic trilogy FLU SEASON.

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(C) Copyright 2010-2023 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

How I Ruined My Summer Vacation - 2018 (part 3)

Into every summer vacation a little rain must fall - or a lot of rain, in my case when I went to Beijing to teach a university course. However, sometimes the rain was the least of my concerns. 

Technology.

First there was the temperature. I am blessed/cursed with a fairly accurate temperature gauge. I must be surrounded by exactly 68 to 72*F. at all times. My hotel room must be within that range for me to fall asleep and stay asleep. Otherwise, I toss and turn and awaken as a grouchy troll. Usually I need to switch rooms at least once. So I did this summer, too, from 624 to 634. 

I had to argue with the hotel staff (in my English, their Chinese) that the controls on the wall did not accurately measure the temperature settings. The dial was at its coldest setting (10*C) yet the room was much warmer than that setting. The hotel housekeeper pointed out to me that [my friend's translation: ] "When the room is warm, set the switch to "heat" so the heat will be "fixed" by having the A/C come on, and if the room is cold set it to "cool". Also, the "L" on the fan switch meant "large" so that was the highest setting. There was no way "L" could have meant "low" according to the staff person (because it was at the top of the switch positions, I guess). Got a new room anyway.

The futball theater.

Then there was the World Cup soccer tournament. It is strange how disparate things can come together to make you act counter to your norms. A year ago, in writing the second book in my vampire trilogy, I had been researching Croatia as one of the settings. I went online to get info about Croatia. As a result, I followed someone on Twitter who posted a lot of pictures of Croatia - her summer vacation there. Now, as I continued to get posts of people I followed, here comes the World Cup soccer [um, excuse me, futball]. So she is cheering for Croatia, obviously, but mostly I suspect because she decided to go back to Croatia and marry a Croatian guy she met last summer. So I got hooked watching the games. 

As an ardent American football watcher, I felt a bit out of sorts but I caught on. The object of the game is to see who can score at all. As big as the net thing is, you would think a toddler could score easily. Anyway, I liked it. I liked watching the games so much that I worried how I would see them when I went to China. Last summer (2017) I had followed Iceland in some run-up series to this tournament, so I believed I could see the games in my hotel room. I was correct. But...time zone shift! The games were on at 2 am Beijing time.

The morning sun fighting the clouds.

No problem. Even with an 8 am class start, I would watch the games. The first I watched in my hotel room was France vs. Belgium. I had picked Belgium to win. I went to sleep early, my alarm set, and got up at 2 am. Tried to get up. Nope. The next game I watched was the Croatia vs. England match. With little happening the first half, I fell asleep. When I did awaken at a normal time, I quickly turned on the TV and saw the popular player from England being interviewed. At first, I thought England had won because it was an England player they were interviewing. But, as I watched, I saw he wasn't too happy. Then the TV switched to Chinese commentary at a sports desk - with no scores showing! Finally, they put up the graphic of Croatia vs. France for the final match!

The last two matches were easier to watch: they were broadcast live at 11 pm Beijing time, so I could watch them and still get a little sleep before getting up to teach the class. Alas, Croatia did not win. You have to hand it to the Croatia guys, anyway. They played more minutes of futball than any other team there, due to so many overtime and shootout wins. England did not win its "bronze medal" match either. The rain still fell. My students still took notes. I still got paid. And I still went to see the usual places in Beijing and eat the usual foods. More on food next time.

One of many Duty-Free shops at the airport.

With my 4-week course crammed into two weeks, I had little time to go shopping for souvenirs. I expected I would get them at the airport when I was leaving. However, despite my best intentions, the departure area of the Capital Airport had undergone a severe realignment. Absolutely all the gift shops had been taken over by the Duty Free businesses. It was so overwhelming that one Duty Free shop was across the walking area from another Duty Free shop - all the same company, apparently. And they all sold the same stuff I don't want: cigarettes, liquor, jewelry and watches. I just wanted a tea cup and a t-shirt. So, no souvenirs for folks back home. That is my story and I'm sticking with it.


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(C) Copyright 2010-2018 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

A New Year Full of Blogging?

Well, it seems it's finally that time of year again! Time for the new semester to begin, mere hours away, for I am, as close followers of this blog may recall, one of those of the teacherly persuasion. And, thus, the new semester dawns once more.

Sure, I had the usual holiday/slash/winter break but it is never enough to recover from a fall semester which, as usual,is filled with mountains of papers to grade and lessons to prepare and conduct. All part of the plan, of course. I have accepted that plan. After all, teaching writing is the second best thing I know how to do. Writing itself would be the first best thing, by my humble estimation. However, even those marks may seem pale compared to many other writers' marks which I have encountered in my life. Nevertheless....

I like to begin a blog year with a reintroduction. To those who know everything already, I beg your indulgence. 

This blog has no real rhyme or reason to it; it is more often than not the musings which come into my head and go out through my fingertips willy-nilly. On occasion, I endeavor to offer some writing advice, some technique examples, discussions of grammar issues, or similar authorical esoterica. At other times, I will update blog followers on my latest writing efforts or publishing achievements. I may wax poetic on the woes of me whenever the mood strikes me. Sometimes I may have a guest blogger or share someone else's news or book. I may, if you are the lucky few, also bore you will my various travel adventures.

First, you will note the name of this blog. What could it possibly mean? The DeConstruction of the Sekuatean Empire? When I first hammered this blog from hell's own fire and brimstone, I had in mind a place to post the "back material" for THE DREAM LAND Trilogy. Because the trilogy is set partly on another world, the chief political entity of that world, known as the Sekuatean Empire, becomes a focal point. Hence, the title of this blog would make sense: taking apart the history, geography, culture and customs of the place where much of the action of the story occurs. However, as time has progressed, other books have come to the forefront which have nothing to do with Sekuate or its hard-working rebels.

You will also note the list of book titles with convenient hyperlinks in the upper right corner of this blog page. They are not simple decoration but actually serve as keys that open doors to my dementia. Experience them and be enlightened forever more! Or, at the least, be entertained. My writing strives to enfold profound truths of the human condition within pages of action and adventure, liberally marbled with sex and romance and sprinkled with haughty pontifications and jokes best left on the cutting room floor. That sounds a lot like a warning, doesn't it? But it's all in jest. I can assure you that 99.9% of the words are spelled correctly and good grammar is always in use - except for the dialog of those characters who have not been well-educated and then only for the sake of authenticity.

Behold my current cache of verbiage: everything from serious literary introspective relationship drama to exciting sci-fi/ steampunk/ interdimensional adventure or contemporary action/adventure with romantic themes, to the semi-biography of an Inuit orphan girl. I've also delved into the horror genre with a vampire novel (soon to be a trilogy). For further information, click on a book link to the upper right of this blog page. Thanks.

To update you now, I am working on the revision of the sequel to my vampire novel, A Dry Patch of Skin (2014). Approaching the end of the story, I realized the possibilities for further adventure, thus creating a trilogy. This vampire trilogy focuses on medically accurate vampirism and, with Book 1 set in 2013-14, Book 2 and 3 will necessarily be set in the future - 2027-28 and 2099-2100, respectively. I expect Book 2, titled Sunrise, will be out this year (aka 2018). Book 3 will be titled Sunset, which seemed appropriate.

Furthermore, I strive to post a new entry once a week, all the better to take advantage of Twitter hashtags (@StephenSwartz1) such as #SundayBlogShare, #MondayBlogs, #TuesdayShares, #Wednesdayblogs, and #Blogorama. I do not hold to this schedule religiously, however - as this month's fare will attest. But I try. You know how life tends to interfere with your best intentions? It's doubly so for writers and teachers. Worse yet if one is both a writer and a teacher. But I'm not complaining. Not really.

In keeping with a "best practices" model of book promotion, I shall attempt to keep blatant marketing efforts to a minimum - except when something new is launched. As always, I expect followers of this blog to read everything I produce and go forth to gather all their family members and friends, coworkers, and just about everyone they encounter in their daily lives, and make them also followers of this blog, readers of these books, and all-around nice people who live to love and love to live, helping all of us enjoy this wonderful world we occupy and yet still be prepared to battle the interstellar aliens who will invade us circa 2345. Or not. The choice is yours, as always. But I have high hopes for you.

Thanks for your attention to these matters. Now carry on making the world a better place for me. And I shall return the favor!

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(C) Copyright 2010-2018 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

How I Ruined My Summer Vacation (2017 Edition) Pt 4

Because there is likely to be some bad news every week, I cannot delay further telling about my little summer vacation. Apologies to those without the electricity to read this. My heart truly goes out to you; I've been in your shoes. 

When I go to Beijing, China in the summer to teach a course in business writing for American audiences, I arrive as planned on a Saturday but with little fanfare. I meet the first class on Monday full of jet-lag and improve greatly for the second class on Wednesday. Then I have a four-day weekend looming. Since I've seen all the big sites of Beijing, this first weekend I decided to check out a few small places I found on my map.

East end of the long, long park.

This year, on my first weekend, I set out with map in hand to find a park which had the ruins of the Yuan Dynasty outer fortress walls. I had passed it previously but never gave it much thought. One hardly thinks of ruins as something to see. After conquering my first bout of "Mao's revenge" and trying to sleep through the night while someone was singing with a karaoke machine in the park across the street from my hotel room, I had to get out - for my own good. My plan was to go out early before it got too hot but with a poor sleep I slept in a bit, then got up to write/edit my latest novel, the sequel to my vampire novel A DRY PATCH of SKIN. Then the housekeeper came, always within 5 minutes of 10 am. Then it was 11. 

Finally I got myself ready, thinking I could at least go to the nearest McDonald's for lunch, something to do. I'm not a regular of McD back home but when in foreign countries it provides a brief semblance of normalcy. So I checked my official Beijing 2008 Olympics map, which had all the McDs marked for advertising purposes, and decided to try a route that would take me to a different McD which I had never visited. I left my hotel, crossed the big avenue, and ducked into the park that ran parallel to the avenue. That was the Yuan Dynasty ruins.

West end pavilion.

Well, not much of the ruins existed at that location. On the map the park extended quite some distance to the west from where I started. So I walked...actually, it was a gentlemanly stroll. Most of the route was shaded by trees, thankfully. I walked along the ruins of the ancient walls, worn down to about a meter or less in height, like old teeth. It made a really nice park along an empty canal, with trees, flowers, play areas for children. Many families were taking advantage of the park but it was not crowded at all. 

At the west end there was an expanded area with statues of Yuan Dynasty people in all their finery, of modern construction but still interesting. They stood on top of a pavilion, just as real may have done at that spot a long time ago. As a writer, trying to create fictitious or historical settings, I find being at the site of ancient things to be fascinating. Like, did those people long ago ever imagine that some tourist teacher from American would one day be wiping his sweaty brow while standing on their pavilion? Probably not. More important things to plan for. But the location did make for nice photos. I always like to contrast old and new in the same picture: the existential theme of the impermanence of permanence. Here and gone. Like the wind. 

A modern depiction of those Yuan folks!

I exited the park at a formal gate, drenched in sweat from the hot sun. A girl handing out hand fans with advertising for a fitness center on it, gave me one. Thanks! I really needed a fan at that point. Following my map, I planned and walked along the tree-lined avenue to my destination: a department store with a McD. 

Add caption

The McD was busy when I entered. At the sight of a foreigner they whip out the English menu but I knew what I wanted and simply pointed to the picture overhead of one of their specials. I was able to get a table, too, so I enjoyed a leisurely lunch although the food tasted as expected; I guess it had been a while so it wasn’t that good. Then I went down a couple doors to a coffee shop I saw as I arrived at the McD. Inside, it was very Western and the A/C was great! I ordered an iced latte, took a table and relaxed. I even read 2 chapters of a paperback I’d brought with me.

Next I planned to go further and check out a science & technology museum I saw on the map. There was also a temple nearby. When I walked to the big interchange where the museum was, it seemed to be under renovation. I could not see where to enter or if it was even open. As for the temple, I could not see any sign of it but for a square of trees among a lot of high-rise buildings. It was hot and late enough in the afternoon that I decided I had accomplished enough for the day. It was time to walk back, probably about 5 kms by then. I followed the map, choosing a different route just for variety, and there was a subway station! 

Public flower pots along busy avenue!

I checked my map and route chart in the station to see how to get home. The station where I was required 2 transfers to get to the station nearest my hotel. So I did that. Except I went one station too far, past the closest one. Remembering my error last year, I made sure of the directions before I set out along the busy avenue. It was a fairly pleasant walk, despite the temperature being 95. Much of the sidewalk was shaded by trees. Finally I arrived at the intersection I was hoping for: the one where the Starbucks is located. I was right! 

Bus stop. I don't trust buses because I don;t know where they go.

Feeling how wonderful an iced latte would taste right then, I walked south enough to be able to look over to see if the Starbucks was really there—it was—but then I could not cross the avenue. Barriers had been set up so nobody could cross. I decided I was close enough to home to just keep going. It was 5 pm and dinner time, but I did not want any hot food, so I popped in at the Subway restaurant near the campus and got a sandwich and drink. Then I went to the 7-11 for more drinks, then to the hotel. As it turned out, that Subway sandwich with all its "fresh" veggies, introduced "Mao's revenge" to me again.

NEXT: The 798 Art Zone

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(C) Copyright 2010-2017 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

How I Ruined My Summer Vacation (2017 Edition) Pt 3

How to Return

It seems much easier to go than to return. Rather, it is easier to go to some place new and different than it is to pack up and return home. At least, in my experience. When it was time for me to return home after I went to Beijing to teach a course at a university, there were enough problems to make a blog post!

Having scoped out the Beijing Capital Airport on my previous trips, I knew where to go, what the best timing was, and how to prepare for the gauntlet. My first trip I went through San Francisco, which meant a noon-ish departure from Beijing. This is actually impossible. Even when my Plan A was to go to a hotel beside the airport to save taxi time. (You can recount that ordeal in this blog post.) My second trip, I went through Chicago, which meant a 4 p.m. departure, which was much better.

This time, I made my way to the big, shiny Hilton Hotel next to Terminal 3 (the international terminal). I'm not a rich person or a celebrity but I like to play one when I'm traveling. Actually, I selected that hotel purely because it is literally the closest hotel to the terminal. So to make my send-off spectacular, after checking in and being treated like royalty, I invited a dear friend to dine with me in a very expensive restaurant on the premises. 

When she finally arrived (subway from the city to the airport, then hotel shuttle from terminal to hotel), we went to the lobby cafe for some tea. I just ordered "Oolong" which is about all the teas I know. The uniformed server brought us a full tea service. We just stared at it, not sure what to do. There was a pair of cups for each of us, one tall narrow cup upside-down in the shorter, wider cup. In the middle of the tray was a small teapot. To the sides were apparatus somewhat familiar. We sipped the tea that had been poured. Still confused, we asked for instruction. Ahhhhh! It all made sense! We continued drinking our tea until we felt hungry. (*See instructions below.)

Dinner was a multi-course extravaganza that mixed Asian and Western foods, plus the right wine to go with each course. First was the bread and salad, then soup, then main course of cod and lamb, then dessert. As delicious and artistically presented as the food was, however, the best part of the dinner was the thoroughly delightful conversation about very important matters, which made the dinner seem to last for years. In a good way, of course.

Alas, finally, it had to end. Strolling about the huge hotel, all the marble walls, floors, and columns echoing every secret, we knew it was time to part. Another summer visit done. It was truly sad - but also a happy evening. It was the perfect way to end my 4-week visit to Beijing and begin my travel home.

After pleasant dreams, I arose as planned and made my way to the VIP lounge for the breakfast buffet. Plenty of time, no rushing. I had packed my suitcase full of laundry already. So I went down to the lobby at the appointed time, carefully measuring everything like a billiard player. Check out, get on the shuttle, arrive at the terminal, go up the elevator, and walk over to the check-in counter of my airline. Piece of cake.

My impeccable timing had me arriving at the counter with no one ahead of me in line. I was between the flights! Mwah-hah-hah! After getting rid of my laundry (in suitcase), I strolled to the first of several choke points in the departure process. First was the gate beyond which only those with boarding passes may go. Then the tram to the outer terminal. And so on. (You can read about the steps required in this blog.)

Due to my perfect timing, everything went according to plan. I even had a spare set of clothes to wear after going through all of the lines and sweating out the clothes I began the day with. No need to wear "used" clothes during a 13 hour flight. Plus 3 hour layover. Plus the 2 hour flight to my home city. I had tried that one set of clothing for the whole 24 hour gamut and those sitting next to me were not pleased.

Boarding the flight, I took the window seat I had chosen, thinking I could lean that way and sleep. Unfortunately, the window well did not match with the seat back, so it made my neck twist at an uncomfortable angle. Not even the soft new neck pillow I got with my last Yuan helped. Then the seatmate arrived. He was scheduled to sit next to me, the middle seat, with a girl on the aisle. She quickly claimed an empty seat in another row and the young man in the middle seat graciously moved to the aisle seat to give us both more room.

Why was more room a good thing? Because from the time this young man boarded, he was sniffling. We had to wait about an hour before we could actually take off into the sky. In that time, he rushed to the lavatory twice, his hand clutching his mouth, a sure sign of oral evacuation. I do not wish to alarm the senses of my readers, so I will allow you to use your imagination. Flight attendants nursed him throughout the flight. I tried not to breathe the same air. He began with chills, shivering, blankets all around but later in the flight had discarded them for what cool cabin air there was to bring down his fever. 

Twelve hours later I was sniffling. My throat felt scratchy. I tried to hold on. Indeed, I made it through the connecting hassles in Chicago and made it all the way home. The next morning I experienced what that young man must have been feeling during the flight. Stomach malady, with chills then fever, and evacuation from both ends. A miserable existence. I doubt I picked up his digestive illness; rather, it was yet another bout of "Mao's revenge" that I had been fighting throughout my visit. 

It is unfortunate that while we cannot choose our parents we also cannot chose our neighbors on an airplane. Nor can we be comfortable with whatever we may eat. That is what makes the world so exciting. Will one need to rush home at a moment's notice? Or will one need to make a pit stop in order to remain polite and decorous? There are maladies a plenty, something for everyone. At least I was not so indisposed for my wonderful send-off evening! Nor for the entirety of my 24 hours of travel back home!

Next: Mao's Revenge

*Instructions for the tea service. The tall, narrow tea cup which was presented upside-down in the short, wide cup is meant to be removed and sniffed. Yes, to enjoy the scent of the tea which has collected inside the tall, narrow cup. Then, when satisfied with the fragrance, the tea leaves are compiled into the holder inside the teapot. Hot water is added. Time will turn the tea leaves and water into "tea". Pour the tea from the teapot into the short, wide cup. (Frankly, the short, wide cup only holds one sip's worth of tea; I use a super-sized mug from the airport gift shop [see photo].) To keep the tea leaves from infusing the hot water too long and creating a bitter taste, the strainer inside the teapot should be removed and set upon the holder (on the left in the photo of the tray above). Continue to drink tea until the teapot is near empty. Because we sat in a tea cafe a hostess visited regularly to refill our teapot with more hot water. It could have been an endless, bottomless teapot but for our need to transition to solid food for the next phase of the evening.

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(C) Copyright 2010-2017 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

How I Ruined My Summer Vacation (2017 Edition) Pt 2

As many of my dear readers may be aware, I was on vacation last month. That is my story and I'm sticking to it. Actually, I was working - in a sense - so let's call it a working vacation. I traveled to Beijing, China for four weeks to teach a university course. As the class was only twice a week, I had plenty of time to get into trouble.

First, however, I had to get there. That part I had easy. At the early morning hour leaving Oklahoma, the lines were almost zero and the airline employees at the check-in were quite friendly and helpful. One woman, when learning I was headed to Beijing, thought to impress upon me that she was really a Ph.D. candidate studying economics. Her dissertation explored Chinese influence on global economics. We chatted a while on the topic, having plenty of time and nobody behind me in line. It was 4:30 a.m. 

Then the security checkpoint. I whizzed on through, having a kindly countenance and a lingering gait. I saw that my boarding pass had the "VIP" indicator on it. So, feeling like a VIP, I relaxed on my first flight of the day, napping until arrival in Chicago. As a connecting flight, I walked out already in a secure area and so I could continue to relax, even grab a Chicago-style pizza for my lunch. 

As I sat on a bench next to a bank of charging stations to eat my pizza, trying to stay away from the crowds, a woman arrived and sat on the floor beside the chargers to charge her phone. I invited her to sit on the bench instead of the floor. We talked, of course. She appeared to be Chinese so I thought she might be on the same flight with me. No, she was transiting between Syracuse, NY and Denver, Colorado. But she was born in China, so I got that much right. She was a masseuse, she said, so I told about the fabulous massage I had just before my trip, at a "Chinese" massage spa (the style is remarkably different than the standard fare).

On board the Beijing-bound flight, I was in the window seat, chosen so I could lean that way and sleep. I brought my neck pillow just for that purpose. There was still too much of a gap because the seats did not align sleepily with the window. My seat was one of a pair, not a trio, in the first row of the coach cabin. That meant no storage under the seat in front of me. In fact, while everyone else had a video screen in the back of the seat ahead of them, we had some funky metal arm which swung up like a tentacle. With the tray tables also swinging up, it became quite a mess juggling all of the appendages. But we got 'er done, as they say, and I was not too wrung-out by the time we arrived in Beijing. 

Apparently, four airplanes arrived about the same time so the line at immigration was long. They had all the gates open, however, so it was better than previous visits. Then I followed all the usual steps to get to the outside world. In Beijing's Capital Airport, advertised as the largest terminal in the world, you get some exercise. From gate to immigration line was about 3 kilometers. From immigration to the tram is about 1 km. The tram takes you about 3 kms. When you exit the tram, it is time to get your luggage and go through customs inspection. That is about 2 kms. As usual--this has been the case since my first day in public school where I sat at the back of the room alphabetically--my suitcase was the last one coming out of the chute. My ID tag had been unceremoniously ripped off the handle and the little TSA-approved lock had also been removed. 

Then I was going out the doors into the real world! Many family and friends and work colleagues await arrivals there. It makes for a huge crowd, so they have set up barriers to draw out the crowd. The effect is that of being a celebrity walking a runway, perhaps for 1 km, until the barriers end and you can go on out and join the crowd. Having everyone peruse you as you arrive--after a 13 hour flight, clothes ruffled and hair matted, a grim facade greeting them--is rather daunting. Not for the faint-of-heart! And yet the sight of my name on a placard caused a grateful smile to appear on my face. My student assistant was there to greet me and escort me to my home for the month.

My assistant, "Catherine", had it all planned. She led me in as short a route as possible to the taxi cue. She instructed the driver where to go. En route we talked about the class, since she was a student in the class as well as my assistant. We arrived at the same hotel as always, the Yinghua, and she helped me with translation during the check in process. It was late enough in the day and I was hungry so we dropped the bags in my room (324; see the discussion of rooms on my previous blog post) and went out to get some dinner at a sandwich shop. That was Saturday, so I had a lot of time until Monday afternoon when the first class would begin. 

Returning home, however, was a much more disagreeable experience....


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(C) Copyright 2010-2017 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

How I Ruined My Summer Vacation (2017 Edition)

As many of my dear readers may be aware, I was on vacation last month. That is my story and I'm sticking to it.

Actually, I was working - in a sense - so let's call it a working vacation. I traveled to Beijing, China for four weeks to teach a university course called "Business Writing in American Context" (Chinese translation). My course, like all those taught at the University of International Business and Economics, was taught in English. Students must be fluent enough to be successful in their classes. I went last year, as well. And the year before. Yes, it seems it is becoming a habit.

The Game of Rooms

For our stay, the university puts us up in a Chinese-style hotel across from the campus. The Yinghua Hotel ("Cherry Blossom") is, overall, a comfortable and attractive place, Chinese enough to be interesting to a Western guest. But it has its quirks, I've found in a few stays, quirks which are not necessarily because its Chinese-style. The rooms where I stayed each had twin beds, desk and chair, TV, mini-fridge, Western-style bathroom, and Chinese decor with a good view of the campus across the street.

My first year I stayed in room 424, which had great feng shui. I was able to write in my free time, finishing my novel A GIRL CALLED WOLF, which I had begun months before. I had worried how I was going to write about an Inuit orphan girl in Greenland while in China. But I got 'er done! Packing a map of Greenland and a couple reference books, plus the soundtrack of the movie that will someday be made of this book, I was all set. When I got into the zone, it did not matter where I was physically in the world, I was in Greenland in my head. (Read more about writing in a strange place here.)

Room 424 after I moved in.

Last year, I again was working on a novel, my mighty tome EPIC FANTASY *WITH DRAGONS. In fact, I wrote about half of the 233,000 word book during the month, almost ruining my laptop. When I checked in, I was assigned to room 624 but it did not have the right feng shui. Actually, it did not have the right A/C. Fortunately, the next day I was able to move back into room 424 and enjoy my writing venue once again. I came prepared, with half a novel done and a plan to finish it. I hunkered down, often typing 6+ hours a day, and came to the end of the draft before I jetted home. (Read more about writing in strange places here.)

This year was a challenge. First, I had started writing a sequel to EPIC FANTASY *WITH DRAGONS, starting with my efforts in the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) event in November. Of course, I "won" by writing 50,000 words during that month. In fact, I had 57,000 words picking up the story from where the original book ended. I assumed that would be my summer project in China, as well. Then something weird happened. A chance encounter with dark esoterica, led me to consider a different sequel: a sequel to my 2014 "medically accurate" vampire novel A DRY PATCH OF SKIN. Again, a story presented itself and I decided to "play" write to see where it would go.

With about 15,000 words written and part of an outline, I left for a month in Beijing.

View from room 426 (looking southeast)

I did not get room 424, even though I had asked the powers-that-be at the university for it weeks in advance. It is my sweet spot for writing. Instead, I was given room 324. That seemed a step down from 424. In fact, at that level, all I could see was a wall. That was the butt end of the roof which stretched out from the hotel to the street. Above the wall, I could see some clouds and the tops of the taller buildings of the campus. In fact, when I first entered that room, the curtains were open and two men were crouched on that roof (the top of the wall) working on fixing an A/C unit. We waved to each other. I closed the curtains.

View from room 426 (looking east)

Immediately, I knew there would be no good feng shui in this room. Through the translation by my student assistant for this summer's class, who met me at the Beijing Capital Airport and escorted me to the hotel, I asked for another room,. Room 424 was occupied and would be for two weeks. Likely it was another summer teacher enjoying MY feng shui writing room! I fell into a deep depression. But then, thanks to the A/C not working very well, I complained again and was moved to 426 - the room next to 424. Close enough, I thought. I could absorb the 424 feng shui by osmosis, by sleeping with my head against the wall of 424. 

View from room 426 (looking northeast)

Well, 426 had good feng shui but the A/C was barely working. Even on the coldest setting I was down to undies and sweat.

Happy to be able to write, I tried to stick it out. 

Then one morning, after only a week, I was awakened by the steady drip-drip-drip sound of something leaking. The A/C unit was leaking! Water was coming down from the ceiling and making a puddle in the carpet. And as I waited until business hours to notify the appropriate personnel, the leak increased. I put down a cup, then another cup, to catch the drip. As I waited, I showered and got ready for the day, ready to tell the hotel people about the leak. I also packed up my belongings because I knew I could not stay in that room. At the least, they would be working on the problem in the room while I had to be away to teach my class.

Two men came to check on the leak. The water was coming down through a speaker (for the doorbell, I think), and so presented an electrical danger. As expected, a hotel supervisor escorted me to see a different room for my approval. I approved. So we moved my belongings to room 516. Once everything was settled, I went to my class as usual. After class, I grabbed dinner. Then I returned from the campus to the delight of my new room, where the A/C worked properly and the feng shui seemed adequate for my writing.

View from room 516 (looking left)

Room 516, where I would remain for the rest of my stay in Beijing, was slightly larger than the others. It also faced south. Rooms 424, 426, and 326 all faced east so the morning sun would awaken me and warm the room mercilessly even with the heavy curtains drawn. This 516 room was very nice. The view was of the side of the restaurant next door (FYI, I ate there last summer and this summer; excellent food and sumptuous decor inside), with all of its ventilation system on the outside, but I could still glance to the east and west from the window and know the city still existed. I could check the weather, see who came and went from the restaurant, and on weekends enjoy the soulful stylings of the karaoke parlor below.

View from room 516 

So I worked on the sequel to A DRY PATCH OF SKIN in earnest in room 516. With my class in the afternoon this year, I would get up early and type away, listening to my soundtrack, until the housekeeper knocked on the door. At check-in, I requested no housekeeper before 10 am, since I would be working in my room. So when she knocked at 10:03 (give or take a minute), I would let her in. She would see me typing and know I was not just some lazy slob who sleeps late; I was working. Just 10 minutes of straightening the room and bye-bye. Then back to writing. 

In all, I brought 72,000 words home with me at the end of the month. I completed two of the three acts, so room 516 had some decent feng shui - despite the almost constant annoyance of the chattering housekeepers in their office / hang-out room just steps away from room 516. 

Next: Arriving & Departing


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(C) Copyright 2010-2017 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.