The Great Wall...or...The Most Terrifying Experience of My Existence

Lauren and I spent a large chunk of November in China. We've been planning this trip for months now and I was so excited as I have wanted to see China for years and years now. We made pretty good use of our three weeks and hit all the major sites of Beijing, Harbin, Xi'An, and Shanghai. We took advantage of being in Beijing to spend a day hiking on the Great Wall. There are several sites on the Wall for tourists. Badaling is only about 30 minutes outside of Beijing and it is probably the one most people think of...in fairly decent repair, smooth walking, etc etc. We didn't go there. We went to a section 3 hours outside of Beijing for, I believe a 6 hour hike that involved give or take 8 miles. Maybe 10? I'm too traumatized to think about it.

We got there and had a choice; take a cable car up the mountain, or walk an additional 45-ish minutes to get to the same starting point. Yeah, we totally took the cable car. The cable card ride took about 20 minutes and I was a little freaked out. We were fairly high up and there was nothing below us except the ground a very far distance away.



The view on the way up though could not be beat.





And once off the cable car (which we had to jump out of while it was still moving), the view got even better.











Then we started walking. I will preface with no, I'm not in very good shape and while the hike would have left me winded regardless, it was not lack of breath or out of use muscles that had me trembling; it was stark, cold fear. I am afraid of stairs. People laugh and ask "seriously?" Yes freaking seriously. It's not heights, it's stairs. I fall down a lot. Generally for no good reason. I can be walking across a perfectly smooth floor barefoot and just collapse. usually not very gracefully either. I'm tall and big and hit the floor hard. So unlike my irrational fear of airports and clowns and full body mobile Kermit, I feel that stairs are a pretty darn legitimate fear. I have fallen down the stairs at my parents house (broke my tailbone), at my university, down both sets of stairs in my house, down the escalator at the Foggy Bottom metro, up several staircases...and so on and so forth. I did not know that the Great Wall had that many stairs. It's a wall, walls are, you know, even. I thought that I would be walking, not frigging climbing bloody stairs. Stairs that, by the way, were often 12 to 16 inches high (I don't know how Lauren did it) and were crumbling and falling apart.







During the time that it took us to pass through the 30 towers we had to get to our pick up point, I shook with fear and terror. Sometimes there were bits of actual wall or ramparts or whatever on at least one side of the stairs and I could cling to that on my way up or down. I liked those bits. Most of the time I relied on the help of a local who attached herself to me and helped me in hope that I would buy some of her stuff (which I happily did cause I would not have made it without her). The absolute only thing that kept moving me forward was the absolute knowledge that there simply wasn't another way. I could either move forward or stay in one spot indefinitely. I stopped a lot along the way, sometimes I just needed a minute before I could face the next five. Sometimes I couldn't breathe I was so scared.

I cried several times on the wall. I wonder if in a few months when I think about it if I will only remember the incredible beauty and awesomeness of the views and the knowledge that I was standing on a piece of history...or if I will always remember that it was the most terrifying experience of my entire existence.

Muli bwanji from Zambia: The Airport Cha-Cha

On Friday night, I boarded an overnight flight to London. The flight to London was really easy for me. Almost immediately after take-off, I put on my eyemask and ear plugs, took a valerian root cap and was dead to the world. I even missed dinner on the flight, and didn't wake up until I felt the plane start its decent into Heathrow. I felt pretty rested, and was definitely ready to move.

My plan for the day was to meet K at Paddington station, where we would shove off for a whirlwind tour of the key things to see in the city. With her advice, I boarded the Heathrow express, and it was sound. At Paddington station, I quickly found the statue of Paddington Bear as he is remembered for being "found" there by his family. Once K and I found each other, we rushed to the Tube and headed for the Theames where we saw Big Ben and the Tower, and the London Eye, which is just a giant Ferris Wheel. Considering my great fear of Ferris Wheels, I was more than happy to keep my distance.

Next Stop: Westminster Abbey

The line here was so long, that there was no way we'd be able to take a tour. I snapped a few shots of the architecture and details, thankful for my college gen eds-- ART 101 which helped me to identify the stylings, etc. From there, it was on to Buckinghap Palace as we chattered away about how unimpressive and stoic it felt. Actually, the building looked remarkably like every other government building in DC: Stone, neo-classical columns, and security out front. K mentioned that it's a great spot to people watch, and once again her tip didn't disappoint as we watched the tourists' lack of respect for the memorials, climbing all over them!!!

From there, we headed to Trafalgar Square and saw Nelson's Column, a memorial of a battle from a long time ago that remains in the in the English modern memory...ewkay. From there, we rushed around to find food, with almost no luck, missing the English "lunch hour" at all the pubs, so my hopes for a real eeeeenglish Fish and Chips lunch were dashed temporarily. We ended up at the Texas Embassy (yes it's a real place!) for some pretty respectable tex-mex offerings. K told me that normally in the UK you'd get Doritos and tomato sauce, and they'd call it chips and salsa. These were nothing like doritos and the salsa was quite respectable with a kick that I figured was probalby really hot to the English palette.

Unfortunately, after lunch, I was about 30 minutes behind schedule. We rushed back to the Tube, and luckily I managed to get the train I needed back to Paddington quickly. But I was nearly dashed when the Heathrow express train I was on was delayed outside the airport by about 20 minutes. If you're doing the math, that means I was nearly 1 hour later than I scheduled myself to be....I was making contingency plans in my head, and praying fiercely...Once at the airport train station I ran (yes RAN!) with my backpack on and laptop in hand all the way to security without stopping. Hey, a girl's gotta get her exercise, eh?! Thankfully, security was no problem for a vetran like me as I slipped out of my shoes, took off my jackets, and breezed through with no problems. It also helps that I didn't have to take my laptop out of the bag. Thank goodness the English security xrays don't have a problem with laptop bags like TSA in the States does. I got to my gate (nearly the very last on in Terminal 1) just as they started boarding....whew!

The flight to Johannesburg (Joburg) was 11 hours and I probably got 5 hours of sleep give or take. I decided I was going to like South African Airways when I found socks, an eyemask, and a toothbrush in a pack on my seat with a heavy blanket and pillow. After my toes nearly froze off on the flight to London, I was thankful. Little did I know that would be the last cold I would feel for a while. The flight was quite hot, but I wasn't complaining, despite having spent the second day in a row in the same clothes...I watched a movie and continued reading my book (Eclipse)

The Airport in Joburg was interesting...it was my third airport in as many days. I traveled for 36 hours in all before getting to Lusaka, and I was amused by the fact that the music at the airports was not your usual muzak like you'd find in an elevator. Nooooo, this was american hip hop music...and as I treked through the airport with my hand luggage I was practially dancing to the cha-cha slide, and laughing at myself for doing it, but I was amused!

By the time i got to Lusaka I was pretty well cooked. It was hot...really hot and I was in long sleeves and pants standing out like a sore thumb compared to all the tourists in their linen and sandals. It's hot here...but I'm thankful for a breeze that flows almost constantly. The people are friendly, and when I went to Mass last night, I don't think I've ever heard singing that was so beautiful in my life. The voices...the VOICES! That's all I can really say, since i have no other words for it...what a blessing it was to have been able to hear them, I can't wait until next Sunday!

It's late here and I"m going to sign off for now since I have to be at our office early tomorrow morning. I hope to be able to share some more pictures than the two I've posted here very soon...wish me luck with a faster Internet connection.

Goodnight, and love to you all.

Old Rag Mountain Hike

It's been WAY too long since our last post, and even longer since I've posted one. Frankly, I haven't had a whole lot to write about, even though I've been diligently going to the Farmer's Market, and even tried a few first time recipes as well! This summer was busy, and this fall is going to prove to be even busier with lots of international travel that will keep me crossing time zones and jet lagged until Christmas. But....I digress.

As many of you know, I am a HUGE advocate for supporting our National Parks. They are grossly underfunded, mistreated, theived, poached, littered upon, and in need of some massive attention and repair. I cannot express enough what a treasure we have in our National Park System. I strongly encourage you to visit as many of your local national parks as possible, and even to become a member!

Last Saturday, I went with the Young Adult group of the Arch-Diocese of Washington (ADW) on a day trip to Shanendoah National Park. Our mission was to hike Old Rag mountain. "why is it called Old Rag, you say?" Well, the name is derived from the original "Old Ragged Top" or "Old Ragged Mountain" which references the mountain's ragged, rocky appearance. It has since been shortened to simply "old rag."

I had no idea that hiking Old Rag would be so strenuous. Considering it was a group of young adults from ADW, I figured (without doing any research) that the hike was going to be more of a nature walk like Catoctin Mountain (Maryland), and less of a real rock climbing kind of hike. You see, the nearly 9 mile trek up Old Rag Mountain consists largely of granite rocks. There are ginormous boulders dotting and precariously teetering all around, and the last mile to the summit is a scramble that is sure to test the physical mettle of any novice hiker or enthusiast. It certainly tested me, and my calves still haven't recovered!


Once nearing the top, you start to see a change in the flora. I realized that I hadn't seen a proper pine cone in months if not years, so I couldn't resist snapping a "texural shot" of these bad boys.


I also noticed that winter seems a lot more imminent when you're up at the top. It was also amazing to me that the plants that grew out of the cracks in the granite rock face could even thrive as much as they did. And in some cases, the plants were even capable of bearing fruit!

The summit of Old Rag Mountain is 3291'. It's best to do it with a friend who has hiked the trail before. As a side note, if you ever want to spontaneously join a hike, you should be at the Vienna metro (orange line) North entrance at 8am any Saturday morning in OCtober. You're sure to find a group and a carpool. :)

Please enjoy the rest of these pictures, taken with my Sony DSC-W70 (7.2MP) camera

Be on the lookout in the next month for posts from China and Zambia.

And I'm in Serbia-How Surprised Are We?

Let me start off this particular post at the end...I want to die.

So I'm in Belgrade again and I know you're all really shocked about it. I've had an excessively quick trip this time around-two weeks exactly. No extensions, no changing my ticket half a dozen times, no evacuations...just two weeks. I haven't blogged before now because I think honestly unless I manage to take some vacation days and do something or there are more super fun riots there's not much else for me to write. How many times can I go on about how pretty Kalemegdan is or how much I *heart* Coffee Dream? I do however feel that a quick overview is needed, if for no other reason than Lauren and I have been lazy posters recently.

There are demonstrations everyday protesting the extradition of Radovan Karadzic (whose name I can now finally pronounce) in Republic Square. It's generally only between 20-50 "hooligans" but they manage to shut down one of the major streets everyday around 5-6 pm as they march down said street blaring a song that, as my friends told me, is an anti-American semi pop number, blowing whistles, and generally just being a nuisance.



My job here was possibly going to be ending at the end of September, however, in the face of all adversity and doubt from everyone that we could do, we won the new program! Which means a couple things: 1) This blog will never stop getting Greetings from Serbia posts, 2) My absinthe supply is endless, and 3) the farewell party we planned turned into one of celebration. We rented out a great restaurant in Zemun and hired a completely fabulous band. It was a work party so almost everyone who had ever been somehow involved with my program here was invited. There was a fair amount of mingling although I'll openly admit that I used the restaurant's cat and the fact that it was sleeping contentedly on my lap as an excuse to not have to actually mingle. Bad Andrea. However as the evening wore on and people got a few drinks into them we used the dance floor space to its fullest extent. I ended up dancing with the absolute spriest of old men ever. He asked me to dance during a slow number which I did and we shouted business talk at each other during our rotation around the floor. After the slow song the band broke into a fast piece and the little old guy actually EXPLODED! into dance. I cannot really do it justice...suffice it to say that there were moments when he would simply gallop across the floor. Gallop. In addition to the music and enthusiastic dancing there was also food and enthusiastic drinking, mostly by moi, which brings us to the beginning of the post-I want to die. Being no stranger to showing up to work either hung over or (twice) still drunk; I made it into the office this morning. But I would kill one of the Karadzic hooligans for an Egg McMuffin.

La Traviata

The Moglie and I got season tickets for the WNO this year and on Saturday night went for the very first opening night of the season, La Traviata. Now, if you read the review in the Washington Post you may be less inclined to get tickets; however, the performance was far better than what the Post allowed.

In my less than humble opinion the soprano, tenor, and baritone were all marvelous. Not only could they all sing and sing well (poo to you Post), they could actually act! I've seen other WNO operas in which the acting and the singing have not been good (*cough cough* La Boheme except Vittorio *cough cough*)so I say kudos to these people. I am not, despite my own acclamations, a learned judge of opera or vocal talent...but having grown up with a classically trained opera signing mother who listened to this very opera so often when we were kids that I'll bet my siblings and I can recite it...I do ok with the judging. And generally I am not kind.

I've also heard some accusations (not just from the Post) that the WNO is playing things "safe" by doing traditional settings for La Traviata. So? I mean seriously, so? Is it really now necessary to take every bit of classical something and modernize it? Does that honestly help us better relate to the story? Is a director therefore uncreative if he chooses to do something traditionally? Personally for me no. Rather I often find the modernizations,"creativity", and "innovations" distracting. But that is just my personal taste. La Traviata is an archetypal story that works in any era and any setting so if you're setting it for the critics then I guess make them aliens and set the opera on Mars. Heck, they made a movie out of in the 30's with Greta Garbo so aliens might work just fine. However, maybe being traditional is the new creative. The WNO isn't the only theatre going back to tradition this season and I for one am looking forward to it.

In any case, the WNO has set up a fantastic season this year and I think they opened it brilliantly on Saturday. For me this production of La Traviata is not only possibly the best opera I have ever seen, but also meant the most to me. Go see it. You will enjoy it.

p.s. Despite the movement to get people to go to the theatre and not be afraid of it by encouraging audience members to remember that at one time it was pop culture and dress how they like and wear jeans etc..Don't. I will hunt you down if I find out you've gone to the opera in jeans.