From -5C in Beijing to 39C in Bangkok

Before we leave Beijing someone says we have not been to the silk market yet. We decide to make a last-minute visit. We pile into a couple of taxis and end up in the vast six-floor silk market building. Besides all the silk scarves, pajamas, underwear and much else there is a never-ending collection of top-end brand name rip-offs. I see Hermes, Paul&Shark, GANT Ralph Lauren MaxMara all at rock-bottom prices. And on the face of it the quality does not seem bad. We start to wonder. These days, just about every genuine big brand has their stuff manufactured in China. So if you are buying the real stuff from China anyway why feel bad about the rip-offs? And is it even vaguely possible that the copies are made in the same sweat-shops as the real ones, and if so, why pay the difference? I pick up a good looking GANT shirt which would sell in Sandton for around R1500, and the price here is about R200, before trying to bargain down. But I have no appetite for more stuff, and so leave it.

We arrive in clammy hot traffic-choked Bangkok, schlepping all the heavy padded winter gear.We look like freaks.When we settle in we start walking the side walks and realize how much of life for them happens right there on the pavement. Not surprising really, because they have warm weather all year round so no need to seek the shelter of life indoors. In front of the Isetan department store there are two big shrines. One for the Bhuddists and one for the Hindus Many people praying earnestly and lighting joss sticks and bowing in reverence. On the shrines are figures of elephants, bulls, roosters ,dogs and other mythical animal deities. We wonder what it all means.

The next day we start the departure program for the Easter&Oriental Express. We have been looking forward to this, imagining all the Oriental luxury, but are somewhat taken aback by the tiny pullman compartment. All beautifully wood-paneled but so small that we have to unpack our big suitcases, take out the necessary summer clothes and have the rest stored in a wagon at the back of the train. But the service is immaculate. We have our own charming Thai butler/attendant who services the pullman, brings splendid trays of tea and puts on fresh beautiful bed-linen every morning. The dining experience is quite formal and the food is the best we have ever eaten, anywhere. Table settings with silver, crystal and starched cotton At one point one of the chefs walks past us, through the dining carriage. We stop him and compliment him on the food. He says he comes from La Rochelle in France. We should have known.

Your Best Friend in your Breast Pocket

We are driving through Beijing when I hear a sound very much like the chirping sound of of a cricket. I try to ignore it, but eventually ask Rick, our guide, if anything is wrong.
Rick looks at me with the dewy eyed look of a proud parent and takes out of his breast pocket a small perspex cylinder.
In it is his pet cricket...I kid you not. This grown Chinese man tells us that many Chinese men have a pet cricket which they keep with them, as a friend and precious companion. He says he feeds it from his hand. He gives it carrot and water.
The reason we heard him was because his cricket was unhappy and wanted to be in the sunshine.
We all think it is hilarious. Rick is deadly earnest.
The cricket has an unpronounceable Chinese name and obviously has an important place in his life.

I said once before, we just don't understand the Chinese.

Quickl-Look Beijing Impressions

Who are the Chinese?

We are in sub-zero Beijing. Dropped the first morning at the one end of Tian'an Men Square to walk across it to the Forbidden City.
It is so cold we cannot focus properly on anything but keeping ourselves together and hoping that the walking will generate some body heat.
But more than the cold, it is the vastness that overwhelms. The guide tells us that a million people have gathered here. I reflect that for a vast country with more than a billion people a very big heart of the empire is probably appropriate. But there is no human scale here.No trees. Just the massive Great Hall of the People at one end, the China National Museum opposite and the Mausoleum of Mau in the middle. We walk through the Ming dynasty gate of Tian'an Men where Mau proclaimed the People's Republic of China in 1949 and where his huge photograph still looms, into the Forbidden City. Past the still standing Red Guards and among thousands of visiting Chinese. Hardly a Westerner to be seen anywhere.
Again the feeling of structures so big that there seems to be no human scale. I think of royal palaces and imperial complexes built at about the same time, in the early 15th century, in England, Europe, the Middle East, South America and even Japan, but nothing as forbidding. We walk through the various gates from Gate of Supreme Harmony through several more until the Gate of Heavenly Purity and all the time a feeling of being diminished by the scale of the structures. And the superstitions. From the child-like, water suggesting animal figures to protect these wooden buildings from fire, to the ever-present dragons indicating the power of the Emporer and to ward off evil spirits. Still no trees. The guide tells us that the word for tree is similar to that of death, so no trees. Life at the Imperial court is dominated by staus and hierarchy. Only the Emporer may walk in the middle. No house or structure that he can see may be higher than his. Ministers and other court officials have offices that are substantially lower in the same complex .
If a significant purpose of travel is to understand something of other cultures, what am I experiencing and learning about China? And the Chinese personality? If these people are becoming a dominant force in the world owning increasingly big chunks of Africa and much else including a substantial part of the debt of America, what are we dealing with? The modern Chinese are obviously different from their early ancestors but the roots of their culture and the DNA of their values must be influenced by where they all come from. In looking at the psychology of people we conclude that if someone tries to be 'closed off' or tries to build a wall around himself that he is insecure and vulnerable. Someone making grand imposing gestures and focussing on status may be seen as hiding some sense of inferiority. Is any of this an indication of a 'Chinese Personality'?
When we finally settle into a warm tea house, we cautiously start questioning our guide. He tells us that he, like the many millions of modern Chinese has one son. No other children are allowed. If they have a daughter as a first child they may, with permission try again. (Any sense of gender-equality has a long way to go here..) If a 'secret' child is born the child may not claim an identity card or have access to national privileges such as education. In the country farm-and peasant-folk may have a second child. Presumably because they provide a source of labour. They say the Chinese have a much longer strategic view of leadership and political governance, but I wonder how they did not anticipate the need for wives of these one child boy-families who often abort girl-fetusses.
Perhaps one of the most impressive aspects of this country is that when a decision is made, somehow, everryone proceeds in lock-step to make it work. How could one man change the entire philosophical structure of such a populous country? With what seems like relatively little opposition. How do businesses manage to get everyone tp work together without dissenters and rebellion? Look at Chinese projects in Africa. They get things done!

The crazy International Date Line

We fly out of Honolullu at 11h00 on Christmas day, heading to Beijing via a transfer in Tokyo.
Big excitement. We are going through the International Date Line.
We wonder..Is there some electronic revolving door we have to go through? Or a membrane in the sky of some kind? Or does someone righ a bell, or what?
About twelve hours of flying time later there is an announcement "The time is 8pm on the 26th December.."
We have lost a day.
Strange thing Time. Our lives are totally regulated by it .We respect time-based appointments and manage our daily agendas very carefully.
We all believe 'Time is Money'
So have I just had 24 hours of my time-capital whipped away from me?
We look forward to Beijing, and have chosen it as our stop in China, rather than Shanghai, because having visited China last time, twelve years ago, we think Shanghai is too much like New York. On crack.. more or less.
So our first impression of Beijing is the spectacular Norman Foster, Terminal Three of Beijing International Airport. Breathtaking.Vast. Like being under an expanse of starlit sky, with massive pillars holding the whole thing up.
And then into the downtown area to our hotel close to the Forbidden City.
But there is nothing traditional here. Down the main drag it is more like Las Vegas or Dubai now. The booming face of China, no doubt prepped for the Olympics, but very impressive. In a totally capitalist way.
Is this really still a communist country? What has happened? Have the bright lights of consumerism cut off capitalist ideology at the knees?
Are these people confused about their country and what it stands for? And what about the old people who went through the Mao years and the Cultural Revolution? Do they see themselves fitting into this?
Our hotel, the splendid new Regent, could be in Singapore or Los Angeles or ..anywhere.
We were met at the airport with whooping and squeels of delight from Madeleine who has joined us with Michelle for three days from Taiwan.
We continue the celebration.

Hawaii: The smile on the face of America.

If Washington and Chicago represent the frown on the face of current America, Hawaii must be its smile.
Its not just the picture-book image which reminds us of our old Viewmaster images of Hawaii. Its not only the turquoise sea and the swaying palms which are all real. Its the wonderfully smiling, utterly engaging people who steal your affection. Big, heavily built men who are the tour guides, hosts at the Polynesian Cultural Centre, taxi drivers and hotel concierges. They all exude gentle good humor and kindness. They laugh, they crack jokes and they talk with disarming honesty about everything from their pride that Barack Obama was born here to the very high cost of living in Hawaii. Honolulu is the third most expensive place to live in the US after New York and San Francisco.
We spend much of the first day at the Polynesian Cultural Centre where they have built a kind of Disney World to introduce visitors to the culture and backgrounds of six distinct Polynesian island groups. From South Africa my knowledge of Fiji, Samoa, Tonga, Tahiti New Zealand and Hawaii stems almost exclusively from what I know about their rugby teams. So this experience is an eye-opener. Mostly its their humor that gets you. Who'd have thought to look at those rugby players, whose people all do some form of the Haka, that they have this dry, self-deprecating sense of humor.They tell about mundane activities like how to break open a coconut and shave the contents into useable flakes, and making a fire without matches as if they are stand-up comics. The audience roars with laughter and loves them.
The second day we have a surprisingly emotional experience when we visit Pearl Harbor. This is particularly significant for me because the Japanese attack happened same year, same month, four days before I was born. In the excellent visitor centre we see the whole story of Japanese ascendence and increase of power in the Pacific to the final surprise attack on the base of the American fleet in the Pacific. And when we analyze what led up to it we see that, again it was oil! The Americans, wanting to stem the tide of Japanese aggression and influence initiate sanctions against Japan. This immobilizes their fleet. They decide to attack. And all of us listening to the story think 'what were they thinking?' Japan humiliates America and did they imagine that the most powerful country in the world would just roll over? The most poignant part of this visit is to the memorial now built on the surface of the harbor's water where the USS Arizona was bombed and sank, losing the lives of 1177 men. Their bodies are never recovered. The memorial simply straddles the sunken vessel and lists the names of each one of the dead. Even though we are not American and have no real connection to this event, you can't help the lump in your throat. And the somber pride America feels for the valor of young lives sacrificed. It was Pearl Harbor that brought America into the war in 1941, and it was at Pearl Harbor where the Japanese signed their final surrender.
We wonder, when we discuss this afterwards, how the Japanese visitors feel when visiting Pearl Harbor. And how confident Japan must have been at that time, and how it seems to have lost much of its world influence and leadership now.

What happened to the America we knew?

In his engaging new book "The Time of our Lives" Tom Brokaw asks "Have we simply wandered off course..?" and "Is the essential part of the American dream disappearing?" And most importantly that question again.. "Will our children and grandchildren have better lives than us..?" This apprehension and self doubt is evident just looking at the people in the streets and airports. It comes through clearly talking to taxi drivers, hotel clerks and in the media.Admittedly this is a very small and totally unfair sample, but we experience in our brief visit a demeanor of Americans which is gloomy and unattractive. They just don't look like we expect them to look, and they don't speak confidently about their future. The hangover from 9/11, ten years later still seems to be there. The economy in trouble and leadership from Washington is constantly being challenged. But while we are here Barack Obama scores a welcome break just before Christmas, or as they call it here "The Holdays", by winning a major tax battle for the Democrats.

There is much introspection and rigorous self examination. The sources of concern are wide. Brokaw looks deeply into American society and says that the country is loosing the competition for successful achievement with China identifying education as one of the most serious problems. I quote from his book.."In 2010 more than 40% of Americans are functionally illiterate. Ten percent of students at colleges need remedial reading. Fourth and Eighth graders are rated eleventh and eighth respectively in international science aptitude tests.. By grade twelve Americans are near the bottom of the international scale.."

On television, in the space of two days we see several adds for self-medicating depression. And much else on TV adverts shows how to have a better life with more convenience. But typical, still, of America there is a splendid solution for every ailment or discomfort. An extended TV add proclaims the miraculous benefits of a product called SENSA which enables you to eat as much as you like, not take any exercise, and then loose as much weight as you wish by simply sprinkling SENSA, a powder, over your food! Seriously.

Don't get me wrong...

I love Google. I love that I have the whole world's knowledge and information at my fingertips. And I especially love that I can be in contact with anyone at any time anywhere in the universe.
What I don't love is that to do all that and to manage on-going electronic connectivity I have to work within a spiteful series of systems and procedures which will exclude me at the drop of a hat and prevent me from finding some file or making some basic word adjustment. Just because I'm not playing in their rules. I can't negotiate my way out of a corner and I can't reason with Windows or Word or whatever to just listen to me and let me do something in a way that I understand. There is no give and take here. You do it their way or nothing!
What I especially don't like is that it makes me loose my independence and own identity.To fix some operating system problem I have to ask for help. And I usually have to get some nerdy person forty years younger than me to whizz through a process which gets me out of some electronic hole. I have to submit and face the humiliation or remain stuck. It's a difficult issue this for a man who believes that he knows his way around the world and can conduct a well-informed discussion with other bright people, but has to give himself up tto some spotty kid in moments of personal distress.
People imply sometimes that this electronic culture gap is a generational thing. And there may be some of that. But it is also in the personality.Some people just work more easily in an established system and others carry the burden of willful independence

An American Paradox

When surprised visitors to Sandton comment on the First World luxury and brand-hyped consumerism of Sandton, and they realize that the Third World squalor and poverty of Alexandra is within spiting distance, I tell them that South Africa today is full of paradoxes. Politicians using limousines and jets and all the other trappings of privilege, whilst at the same time still practicing primitive tribal customs. Sophisticated state-of-the-art medicine living alongside sangomas and witch doctors. There are many other examples. Unless one comes to terms and makes peace with this aspect of the country, the mystery will remain.

Well, America has some of its own mystery. And not to speak of the odd surprising paradox. We are in Washington. and we know how bouncy and friendly Americans can be with their "Have a nice day" sunniness and "You're welcome!" after every thank you. America always seems to be a place of endless goodwill and optimism. But there is a darker side. This is felt most immediately by the humorless attitude of the immigration officers and the tough post 9/11 Homeland Security culture of the airport arrivals. Our friends Carl and Annette are 'random-selected' for further questioning after the rest of us have walked past the final customs guy. They spend an additional hour in a further line waiting to be investigated. Ahead of them a squirming young woman has her packed clothes and underwear examined in full view of other passengers. A few inane questions, and they are free to go. But the message is clear. Don't mess with our security system! And don't try and lighten this deliberate, and relentless process with any funny remarks or sidelong humor.

The paradox is that the warmth and willingness to engage with anyone is only superficial. Underneath it is the big American systems-machine that stops for nothing and has to be taken very seriously.
The driver from Dulles tells us that Obama is doing a good job in difficult circumstances and will be re-elected. The Republicans are just putting up a fight because they have to and this is, after al, what democracy is all about. Obama is welcoming home the first wave of returning veterans because the war in Iraq is now over. In a land of enterprise and opportunity one million veterans will be looking for jobs and the Democrats will be fighting to keep down the unemployment figures.

Luxury booming in an anxious economy

Why, if we keep on hearing about cutbacks and economic misery do we see people standing in queues to buy top end products at the likes of Louis Vuitton, Burberry, Hermes etc? And expensive property is experiencing unprecedented demand. Why does the taxi driver to Heathrow tell us that he and his children will never be as well off as his parents? He says his children will probably never own a house, a car or even have a permanent job. Well, the explanation from our investment-banker dinner guest last night is that everyone in Europe is hedging against the "inevitable" collapse of the Euro. The UK offers what is perceived to be a refuge. So people with Euros are buying hard assets like property, jewelry and even expensive handbags! All as insurance.

But there is another factor. People in in China, Japan and other Eastern countries are so driven by the prestige of top brands that they will sacrifice living conditions to be seen with a Patek Philippe watch or Hermes Kelly handbag. Young people working in modest office jobs spend a disproportionate part of their income on prestige brands. The ultimate consumer society is self-sustaining.

Wet Muddy Boussac

Four days at the Moulin. We feed the greedy wood burning stove when we are inside and dart around the rain and mud while we are outside. The Petit Creuse next to us and the waterfall are thundering. It's not snow as everyone warned us in July, but wet, cold winter nonetheless.

A final grand and spectacular dinner with Hardy and Louis. Delicious mushroom soup, rack of lamb and a sublime pear dessert with real edible gold leaf! All paired with champagne, Chablis... then a suave Burgundy and finally a great Sauternes. Two guys who grew up in Witbank and Namibia showing us French style and panache.

What is it about London?

We finally leave the crazy traffic of Paris behind at Garre du Nord, having just understood that Garre del Est is more or less in the same spot and that they simply mean North Station and East Station. The Eurostar to London.. We arrive at Kings Cross and all the confusion and alienation of Paris is gone and the world is once more understood. But I think it is not just the language. There is something about London that makes it accessible. The way the roads work and the red buses like red blood corpuscles moving around arteries give visual comfort and familiarity. London is heaving with people and there is a pre-Christmas festivity that makes the whole place feel like you are in a party. Paris says "I'm going to make you sweat to make me open up to you.. " London says.. "Here I am... take me!"
There are always people who hate one city or another. I've heard people say nasty things about New York or Tokyo, or Paris even... but nobody hates London. Why? There is a certain British tolerance and understanding about London. Even when the crowds are overwhelming at Christmas time. We hear foreign accents everywhere. London is full of people who don't come from here, but want to be here.

Luggage Angst

Packing the right stuff in the right quantities for the wrong season, is one level of stress when traveling overseas.

Another concern these days is worrying about your luggage being there for you when you arrive. And what you would do if it doesn't. I had that experience once in Turkey where British Airways took three days to trace my bag. With a little bit of ingenuity and a relaxed hygiene policy, three days is manageable. But the problem is, you don't know for sure if it is going to be three days, and you would be forgiven for wondering if you are not going to be one of those statistics whose luggage was never found. How do you shop and pull together all the stuff you will need, managing funny size issues and suppressed nostalgia for your favorite jacket or pulover?

I've often wondered what happens in the arrivals hall if some luggage-hood simply picks up a few pieces off the conveyor belt and leaves, walking comfortably along all the others who are pushing trolleys. The owners would report the missing bags, and not finding them the airline or airport authority would pay some form of compensation. The thief could then use,or sell off the spoils. Remember nobody checks the luggage tags as the bags are collected.

Next time you are standing around the conveyor belt waiting for your bag to appear, watch the faces of the people when they spot their bag having arrived. It's the look they get when hugging a friend.

We salute the French

Still today, in much of France, they respect locally sourced food and the sacred twelve-to-two lunch break. We have seen people on building sites, farm workers, artisans and even those in law offices and
government buildings trooping off religiously at noon to sit down to a three course lunch and some pleasant conversation. With our Anglo-American mind-sets this looks unproductive and out-of-date. Even a little quaint. But compare the obesity levels of these healthy-living French with our fast-food, and super-sized eating Americans. Slow Food which is such a hot topic these days did not have to be legislated in much of old Europe, people just knew what was good for them. The culture absorbed the knowledge and people lived well.

The Midday Kip

The whole world seems constantly to be in a rush these days. Everyone's
diary is filled to capacity, and secretaries respond to requests for meetings with their bosses by saying.. " I'm sorry he has back to back meetings.." Unless they are entertaining, or being entertained people
increasingly have a smash-and-grab sandwich or anything that can be consumed on-the-move.

It's all high pressure and hurry hurry hurry but I think they knew a thing or two in the Mediterranean countries when siesta was still an institution. Everyone went home for lunch and then had a nap before taking on the second half of the day. Very civilized. I have always believed in this and have been an ardent midday napper all my life. The stress management benefits and the pure pleasure of a short middle-of-the-day break should be institutionalized everywhere! We could save the world.

Wrapped bags

Anyone who has had stuff swiped out of their zipped bags en route through O.R. Tambo, willingly opts for the plastic wrapping option before checking in. On a hard-shell suitcase it does little damage. On a soft bag it squashes the whole thing out of shape. But that’s not my main gripe. I want to know what arrangement the wrappers make for when arriving at the destination to cut the whole messy business off. We don’t travel with sharp objects so without a knife or pair of scissors, and short of chewing the plastics what does one do?

Breakfast

These days nobody I know eats bacon and eggs for breakfast anymore. And do you remember thick slices of toast and marmalade? Bless us, we are all doing the health thing with low-fat muesli, herbal tea and the occasional berry smoothie.

Some of my friends have the hot water lemon starter followed by liquefied grass and a handful of vitamin supplements.  It’s Spartan. It’s Noble, lean deprivation. And it always gets told with smug self-satisfaction. Do they sleep better? Do they have more joy, or any joy?

Much better is getting up early and running up the hill in front of the house in France and buying fresh beautiful bread; then eating it with plenty of butter and chunks of apricot jam and three big cups of strong coffee. Not as healthy they say, but what a delight!