Travel Log

As I said before I'll keep you posted about my travel plans. Today, I'm keeping my promise.
I finally got around to starting the journal that, I hope, will accompany me around the world.
General thoughts will now go down here while anything to do with my trip will be recorded there. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Tobe E - Unfinished Business

Been around a lot lately. On the prowl. Hanging around shady city streets by day and by night. Only come to my office to catch a few hours of shut-eye and to shave. Even gave my secretary the week off. She accepted it gladly. At least, now she can paint her nails in the peace and quiet of her own home. Funny, the office feels empty without her.
Almost as empty as the city streets at this time of day. And in this weather. It's about as nasty as the average Margarita you get this side of town. It's cold and damp, a chilly breeze blows up from the river and scatters the fine rain drops like cheap perfume. The chill creeps up on you like a bad premonition. I pull my coat around me tighter. It should be warm and sunny this time of year!
I make my way through deserted streets. I should be out here on a job, making money. Should. But no, this is personal.
Keep it professional, Larry admonishes in my head. Probably for the thousandth time. For a real pro there's no such thing as personal business. It's a waste of your skills, your energy and your time. Larry had always been a man of simple principles. This was his personal Zen. That's why he had been so good.
Maybe I should start to listen to his wisdom. Like this I'd just catch a cold. Or worse. Why was I doing this anyway?
I remind myself. I'm staking out a man. Not just any man. This one's got a history. We go way back. Me, him, two others. A gang of four. Used to do quite some business together. That was before I changed to the good guys. We used to call him the Russian. Because he was half Russian. Also had a lot of connections that way. Importing, he called it. The kind of import that doesn't go through customs but crosses the border tucked behind the back seat or beneath the car. Did good business, the Russian. Probably ended up owing lots of people. Some of them sure were the kind of people you don't want to owe even a penny.
Then one day he announced he had to disappear for a while. Lay low. So it had come to that. When I went to check up on him he had already gotten involved with some new boys. Extremely shady characters, the lot of them. He was clearly afraid. Didn't even trust us anymore. Anyone can be bought, I remember him saying. His new business partners had the power and connections to protect him. He was sure of that. From their looks I didn't have much faith in them. They weren't the types to work for people, only for wallets. But there was no talking him out of it.
Then he disappeared. Moved house, changed phones, changed habits. Professional like a KGB agent. We managed to locate him once more but soon enough he moved again. Didn't seem to want to stay in one place for too long. Word was that he was constantly on the move. Then people even stopped talking about him.
Years went by, things changed. Our gang of four doesn't exist anymore. But now that I'm back in town his spirit haunts me again. I wonder what he got himself into that he had to disappear so quickly. It turns out that a lot of people who used to know him also went missing. But that's not good enough for me. I want answers. That's my job. So I ask around. But no luck. As soon as I mention his name people close up like clams.
Then one evening, in one of his old hang-outs, I run into one of his former business partners, a small-time con man. Of course, he doesn't remember me. Quarter of an hour and a bloody nose later his memory has returned. He spits out an address where the Russian used to do his business from a year or two ago and swears by his mother's virginity that he doesn't know more. I let him go. Small crook like this can't do much harm.
When I finally find the address he's given me there's someone else living there already. They've been in there two odd years. Didn't know the previous tenant. The flat completely cleaned out before they moved in. This is where the trace ends. I've spent the last few days staking out the place. Maybe he's still around. Changed names or uses the place as a front for his business. I ask around but there's no lead. Nothing. Place is as clean as a nun's underwear. Maybe the little bastard lied to me. The thought has shot through my head a couple of times already.
Of course, there's still one more possibility. The one I've been avoiding so far. Maybe whatever the Russian was running from caught up with him in the end. I turn the thought around a few times inspecting it like a dead fish. That would explain things. Maybe I should ask the coroner? No, I know better than that. Those types wouldn't be the kind to leave evidence behind. Not a nice way to go.
Now, standing in the drizzle under a tree, I've got to face it: there's nothing here. I've followed up all my leads. I've been waiting around for almost a week and no sign of him. He's either dead or moved on. One way or the other I'm too late. Nothing more to be done. How I hate giving up!
I shoot one last glance at the house entrance through the wet haze. Then flipping up the collar of my coat I turn to leave. I turn my back on history. Somewhere in the distance a police siren wails. There's work to do.

Change of Direction and New Start

Haven't posted for a long time. I've been busy. Busy with what, you ask.
Let me share it with you:
Well, busy with plans - Big Plans. A complete change of direction. And only two weeks to go until they are finally put into practice. And now I'm beginning to feel the weight, the impact of what I'm about to do.
I've already quit my job, that was the first step. I've left UK and I'm now back in my home country of Germany. But that's just the beginning. I've been wanting to leave Britain for a while now, anyway. No, I've decided to do something with the money I've earned other than settle down and have a family (something that, scarily, some folks my age have already done - good on them). I've decided to stop working again for a while and do what's gone into popular culture as a gap year. Or as I prefer to think of it: "gap time". Committing to a year one way or the other seems silly. The money might run out before or it might last a month longer.
But what to do with all that time? Here's how the dream evolved.
Obviously, like most people that do this kind of thing, I want to travel. I've been wanting to do that ever since, after finishing university, I wasn't sure what to do with my life. A common question, I hear. Then, my girlfriend said to me "why don't you do a gap year?". At the time I didn't know what exactly that was but she explained patiently and I listened. And almost immediately ideas started popping into my head of seeing far-away places, leading a free life of some adventure, not knowing where I might wind up next week. There was only one big disadvantage to the plan: it would cost money. A whole lot of money! A considerable amount of money. Well, you get the idea. And after being a student, kindly sponsored by my parents, the amount I could scrape together from savings was just about enough for the trip back home from campus and a pizza for dinner. Thus, the choice between a gap year and work was an easy one.
But the idea was sowed and it grew on me. Sometimes it wasn't easy being patient - like in the song by AC/DC: "it ain't no fun waiting round to be a millionaire". A couple of times I announced my plans to my friends but somehow I couldn't let go, didn't have enough money and just stayed. Several times I got frustrated with my work and was tempted to throw things away and just go and see how far I got. Still, somehow under all that ranting and pipe-dreaming the idea managed to keep me focused and determined enough to hang on. In the end, of course, people stopped believing me saying I'd never actually do it. Sometimes I myself thought I wouldn't, that I'd got too attached to my life in UK despite my strong dislike for the place.
And so several (how many? Three?) years went by but some time around my last birthday this January something audibly went "click". I realised I had said it would be this year like I had said it would be last autumn and last spring. I had never really made the move to do anything about it. Now was the time. Either leave now or admit I was stuck in UK. So, the decision was made. It was now.
Which brought me back to the original question: what to do with all that time?
After being to China and Malaysia I wanted to see more of East Asia. China and Southeast Asia are natural choices for backpackers because of rich culture and low prices. Of course, I dream of finishing off Asia with a visit to Japan or Korea. So, get a Round-the-world plane ticket? Well, after my trip to China last year I had told myself the next time I went there it would be by train. Not because I hate flying that much but rather because I love going by train, travelling old-school-like. I used to do it a lot as a child, loved watching the scenery go by. And on my trip to China I discovered that you can meet some interesting people on the train, as well. The Trans Siberian railway then. I had even met two Swedes who had done it and loved the experience. That was it then. And I wanted to see a good friend in Beijing for the May holiday.
So, it was that I almost rushed off in a great hurry in March. Fortunately, I came to my senses in time to realise that what I had planned there - to leave UK and be off to China within little more than a month - was impossible. Rushing though countries like Russia and Mongolia, just seeing them fly by the train windows would be very foolish, too. So, I delayed and rethought things again. I also wanted to improve my Chinese when I returned to China to be able to communicate in the country I wanted to spend most time in. I had also had the fantasy of actually *living* in Beijing for a while and seeing the local perspective of the place. How better to fulfil these requirements (and in a useful way) than to study there, to learn Chinese. Universities and language schools offer short-term courses, say one semester. Bingo! That was it.
Thus hatched the final draft, the design that is now about to be set into motion. It would be stupid to rush through a country as big and culturally rich as Russia so I will spend three weeks there. Make the most of your visa I say. This is followed by some two weeks in Mongolia. That country has lots of natural sights which are difficult (and expensive) to get to when you're alone. After that I start my studies in Beijing, which will take until end of January next year. After that things become a bit more fuzzy. I want to spend a few months travelling in China, north to south and east to west. Then cross the border to Vietnam, going on to Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia spending about two to four weeks in each country. Finishing line is in Singapore where I'd then like to look for a job. My favourite part is that I will do this trip without setting foot on a plane, travelling half-way around the world the old style, by train and by coach. I'm also doing a slightly different kind of gap year to many people who only *start* in China. The way is the goal.
This goal is to see and absorb as much as I can of people, countries, details and at the same time find a clearer idea of what I want, find myself in all of it. Sounds like a cliche? Probably is. Better not read too much into it yet. For now I'm just beginning to look forward to one hell of a ride.
I'll keep you posted.

It's Almost Unreal

I think the line from the old Roxette song describes it so well. It's all done and dusted and I hardly noticed it happening in the end. I've left the country, my flat, my job, my friends. A few days ago it was still "I will leave" or "I am leaving" and now it's a simple and sober "I've left". I've quit my job, terminated all my bills, said goodbye to everyone. That's actually what I thought would be the difficult part: saying goodbye. After knowing people for years and being quite close to some I had ... certain expectations. But, in fact, it still went the quickest while settling my accounts seemed to take ages. Time flies when you're enjoying yourself and, so, the moment I wanted to savour the most - looking everyone in the eye, shaking their hand or giving them a hug - was over in a flash. It was like always. With everyone busy at work I would often only see them every odd weekend (at most). Saying goodbye for a few weeks was not unusual. I actually struggle to use "was" here instead of "is". It takes some time to sink in that I may not see some of them again, that past tense is the appropriate form here.
And then, before I realise it, everything's packed and I'm at the airport checking in, passing security, taking my place on the plane. Again, it's something I've done so many times that it seems completely normal, a routine. This time, however, I only have a sinle ticket.
And so, the next day, I wake up again in the realm of the 19-year-old that left for UK almost seven years ago. The room is like a time-capsule and the last seven years like a dream. A few odd items and the long list of MSN contacts are the only reminders that it's not. Things feel very unreal. An entire chapter of my life has come to it's conclusion in a single hectic final day. And at the same time, very quietly, unceremoniously, a new one begins. It's not a "fade out, fade in" but a quick "wipe to".
As my good friend MY said: "this is not the last time we have dinner together before you leave but it's the first time we have dinner togther in this new chapter of your life." So, since we're here at the dawn of the new day, the new life, on the first page of a new chapter let me begin with the acknowledgements and special thanks:

I'd like to thank you all for your inspiration and support, input, help, advice and encouragement. Without you I wouldn't be where I am today - and I mean that in every best possible way. You've enriched my life and without you my time in the UK would have been unbearably boring. I wish you all the very best. I will meet new people on the way but I will not forget you!

Now, watch this space.

Country of Heroes?

I still know painfully little about the history of China. It is, unfortunately, something that is not taught at school in Germany. I'm only slowly starting to piece things together from friends' accounts, museums, books and a trip to the country.
Recently a confusing realisation hit me:
The Chinese relationship with the Japanese is defined by their common history. Many Chinese will only remember the Japanese war crimes against China, including the most infamous incident known as the Nanking Massacre at the end of 1937. Japan, they say, has never adequately attoned or even apologised for the attrocities committed. More still, Japan stands accused of trying to "white-wash" their history to their own people by failing to mention these event in their recent history books. I have met quite a number of Chinese who harbour a strong dislike for Japanese because of this.
At the same time, it seems to be a common dream among young Chinese people to come to Britain to study, to learn the English language. Girls have told me of how good-looking the British males are. Many would like a British boyfriend - preferrably to marry them and secure their future in the UK. Were they dealing with Japanese this would often be unthinkable.
But what of the British crimes against China? I'm only beginning to see the big picture of this but what I see is just preposterous. The British systematically corrupted China by getting its people addicted to opium, smuggling it into the country while it was still illegal by Imperial law. When China attempted to stop the sale of opium there was war - the Opium Wars - leaving the Emperor to agree to open ports and eventually even legalise opium - the probably only case in history where the sale of a drug was forced on a country at a national level!. The British demanded compensation after compensation - treaties that left China at severe disadvantages. One of the items was the (then) small port town of Hong Kong for which they demanded ownership for 100 years. They returned it about 50 years late! China was repeatedly humiliated by the allied European nations and I am ashamed of the German involvement to subdue the Boxer Uprising. Still, it is probably safe to say that the British played a major part in the eventual downfall of the last dynasty even though other nations were involved. If it is any indication, their military presence was by far the strongest comparing 10,000 British troops to a mere 900 Germans. And what of the countless thousands of death caused by wars provoked by British Imperialism, the bombardment of cities including Beijing itself and the deaths that followed in the wake of opium addiction? What of the misery caused to millions more?
Of course, the reasons were claimed to be promoting civilisation, spreading the word of God, protecting British interests. All this serves as an extremely thin cover for a nation whose entire history has been motivated by one thing: greed. How could the British claim to bring civilisation to an Empire that had civilisation before Bitain
even existed? Sadly, China and the Imperial court made some severe mistakes when first dealing with the foreigners and they paid dearly for them. The final insult came only recently when Hong Kong was at last returned to China: Charles, the Prince of Wales, called it "the great Chinese take-away". The insolence knows no bounds! Was it not plain theft that brought Hong Kong into the possession of the British in the first place!? Ignorance and arrogance, both qualities that the British have always excelled in, united in a single phrase.
The British have white-washed their history. And more of it than the Japanese. Not only have they never regretted the troubles they brought to their colonies, they are proud of being the great Imperial ruler and wish they still were. "Rule Britannia" they sing. It makes me furious watching their politicians point their dirty fingers at others while wearing a vest of blazing white. Thy sit on their little island like a fat, ignorant slug knowing - or at least appreciating - as little of their past crimes as the Japanese are accused of. They are taught that they once were a great Empire and their press sometimes behaves as if it were so still. They wail about the influx of foreigners that take away their jobs and their space and their money. Surely, that must be what it feels like being a colony.
The name for Britain in Mandarin Chinese 英国 (Yingguo) can loosely translate to "Country of Heroes" or "Brave Country". Honestly, I think they may have picked the wrong character.

Scape goats breaking even...

I should really have seen it coming. But when it did I still wasn't prepared.
Remember my post about violence in the media and the follow-up? I mentioned that there's already a lot of violence in classic literature and mythology. In the follow-up I quoted a kindred spirit from slashdot pointing out how full of violence even religious texts like the Bible are (think of the Old Testament "an eye for an eye"). Little, I imagine, did either of us know at the time that German researchers were already looking into the matter, as this article shows (sorry guys, only in German but Babelfish can help). "The Bible causes aggression", they conclude. "Does God [now] have to be blacklisted?"
I delight in the sweet irony that the crusade against videos and games is now coming back to haunt those same conservative social messiahs that initiated it. "The Bible is a book of wisdom, teaching us how to lead our lives", affirms a Christian online magazine. Well, tough shit, guys, "conclusive evidence" has shown it makes people aggressive and contains adult material. So, I guess that means we'll slap a "Warning: Explicit Lyrics" sticker on it and a (15) tag. I find it hard to contain my mirth. I should really congratulate these industrious spirits for finally being consistent.
I say: Screw common sense! Censor it! Ban it! Put a black bar across it! Not that I hate the Bible nor religion as such. But if those ultra-conservatives find that I can live with cuts to my favourite movies then I find they can live with cuts to their favourite book. Fair is fair.

Nur fliegen ist schöner...

A German phrase about the magical attraction of aviation: "Only flying is better/more beautiful." It's an old advert slogan for Opel cars gone into common usage. Still, it pretty much sums it up in my opinion.
There may be countless reasons and advantages to travel on the surface. In many countries it's cheaper than flying - sometimes much cheaper. It's often still the preferred means of domestic travel. It definitely allows you to see much more of the local scenery than just flying over it at 30,000 feet - and that assumes there are no clouds and you have a window seat. If you're lucky you might even make some local contacts on a coach or train. At least, you'll get more of an idea of how everyday people travel. On top of that, you can get up whenever, stretch your legs, take a walk and maybe even open the window. The list goes on.
And yet, despite all this, there's something about taking the airplane that makes it more exciting, something that goes far beyond the vague fear of heights at 10,000 metres. Funny enough, on the train I quoted the absence of foreigners as a plus but on a plane it's their presence that makes it attractive. It is as if you were already getting a taste of your destination. And then, when you arrive and step out of your craft, it's not a gradual change like on a train but with a single bump and screech of brakes the entire world around you changes. As if the great metal bird that speeds you away somehow removed you from your reality and then set you down in a different one. It carries you majestically across a sea of clouds and then a new world materialises around you.
Even arriving at the airport feels exciting. It starts with the electrifying feeling that I'm going somewhere. And if it hadn't before the feeling sure as hell hits me here. Then there's the environment: airports are the main hubs between different parts of the world these days - more so than train stations which used to have that role. There's always a busy coming and going. People from all walks of life, nationalities and cultures can be found here. They say tearful goodbyes, waving until the last moment. At the same time, it's the place where friends and families reunite after being apart, open arms, all smiles and laughter, hugs and kisses. In between, businessmen make last changes to their presentations and children look forward to their hotly anticipated holiday. The air is full of countless languages, a cacophony of announcements, the roar of engines and sometimes even the smell of kerosene. The whole place is filled with an energy that is hard to put into words.
And so the excitement hits me anew every time I get off at the terminal building, every time I walk through the gates. It's almost a magical place. All that Leonardo dreamed of and much more.