Livable it was. Munich and Germany have something the United States does not. Age. And That simple fact makes everything about an American city and perhaps American culture different. I’ll write more about that when I get back though.

Like a moron I booked a train to Frankfurt while the German team was playing Slovakia. The previous 24 hours in Munich had quickly confirmed that the country had a singular focus: World Cup Füsball. Vehicles and buildings were adorned with German flags, and every time i stumbled across a park or open space in the city I found a giant screen for the public to get together and watch games. Every conversation I heard was about the cup (Germans use the phrase “world cup” rather than the German language counterpart). So that I missed the chance to watch the Germans huddled in a Munich beer garden was my first real critical mistake of this trip. Oh well.

The three hour train ride further confirmed that the Germans are football crazed. The game was broadcast on the train radio and literally every passenger plugged headphones to listen. That my german was not quite up to speed was irrelevant; I relied on mass facial expressions and group sighs to follow the game. Loss 1-0.

Florian picked me up and we quickly sped me off to a public viewing screen to catch the second half of the US versus Slovenia. Beer, foreign snacks, and great soccer bombarded my senses. Man was I glad to be in Germany. After the tie Florian and I drove to Klein Garau to meet up with Bettina, his wife and my friend. Over some local dark beers we loosely planned my three days with them. Everything revolved around the world cup. That night we drove to Meinz and strolled around town. Churches from the 1300’s, pedestrian walkways littered with beerhouses and cafes seemed to be the norm there. So too did soccer. We walked to the famous Rhein river. Cafe. Beer. Pretzels. Lawn chairs. Sunset. World Cup overlooking the water. Check. When it got too cold we walked 100 m over to a fine dining restaurant. Seats. Wine. Big screen. World Cup. Check.

So went my weekend and I loved every second. During the day we would watch soccer, explore, and eat; at night we watched soccer and drank. Florian and Bettina kept checking to see if I was OK with the level of football we were watching. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Here is how Saturday went down: we had Bread, cheese, and sausage for breakfast. We then drove to Heidlberg via the autobahn. We visited some friends of theirs and chatted about soccer. Then Florian and I hiked up to the castle in town which was overlooking the Rhein. Bettina hunted for a soccer viewing spot in the plaza. And that was it. By 3 pm it was world cup time and for us the rest of the world stopped. We watched the game in a cafe hovering over some recovery drinks overlooking the main plaza in Heidlberg. We zipped off to a small town to meet some of their friends – Roger, Nicole, and their son Johan. . Two beers later the next game started. At halftime we kicked around a soccer ball in the courtyard with Johan. More soccer, more beers, and then schnapps of Sam Buca. Whoa. 3 am finally hit and I couldn’t stay awake any longer – I was starting to think I wouldn’t make it az a German afterall.

Sunday we lounged and watched füsball all day. Bettina convinced me to blow up an air matress in front of their tv. And that is how I watched all three games. At one point Florian leaned over and asked, “Sausage?” I grabbed it and remarked, “I feel so German right now.” What a day. Caught the over night train to Munich. Plane to London. Plane to Cape Town.

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I wrote this on my phone, so please excuse any egregious errors. No computers in my life since HK.

Also, next time I do find a computer I will be removing my blog from facebook. They never include my photos or videos in my posts (+ their privacy controls suck) so goodbye FB. Add my blog to your RSS reader or simply check back on occasion. Thanks for understanding.

Similarities with the mainland are quite prounced as well, hence the “Diet China” label. Language, smells, density (people + spaces), and food were quite familiar despite the border crossing.

Hong Kong had diverse opportunities that, quite frankly, surprised me. On day two Anthony led us outside of the city for a hike in the mountains. What, mountains? Hiking? Dragonsback was grand in every way. Only photos could properly convey the beautiful beaches, oceans, and the exotic plant and wildlife that we saw. I’m writing this post on my phone in the airport sans Internet – so I’m not sure – but I think such photos can be found over on my photographicas page. Utter wilderness in such close proximity (read: no suburbs) was unexpected and so too was a mile long series of escalators with what seemed like hundreds of western style restaurants off of each side. We indulged in those restaurants with more enthusiasm and joy than I expected from myself. We had one Chinese meal in hong kong, our first, and it was also our last.

Hong Kong was expensive too. It hurt the pocketbooks, but worth every penny. The cab rides, beers, tram rides, hotels, and restaurants all provided top notch service. So too, did the people. And the land – magnificent views.

Today, we had barely turned the corner from the station when the bus stopped, popped open its doors and the bus filled up. These people clearly weren’t paying full price and some jackass was making money that the bus company wasn’t getting. Plus they were literally cramping my ride. Such an experience illustrates one of the themes that has loosely been developing as we get deeper into our trip. “Reform and Opening”, occuring circa 1980, has had all sorts of consequences – both good and bad. One that we often see is corruption. It exists, and it is out in the open. No chinese have complained about these extra stowaways, even though they had originally paid full price. Now that we’re 2/2 on this practice I wouldn’t be surprised if we see it on every bus here on out. Our original bus was 1 hour late because we dropped every one of the free riders off at their front door. 3 hours to 4 hours. Nice.

I have a habit of quickly adapting to the culture, where ever I am. In the south, at the end of day one you’ll detect a slight southern drawl when I’m speaking. Here in China, no one is shy. Yesterday on Mt. Huangshan (yes I know that is repetitive you chinese speakers) at least 100 people who snapped my photo without any sort of permission. Kids poop on the street. People step on your toes to get ahead of you in line. So today when my neighbor on the bus lit up his cigarette and smiled at me, I coughed into my hand, acted like I was choking and then leaned across him and opened his window. My other chinese neighbor laughed and then scolded him too. That is the culture here. Think about yourself first, others later, if at all. As such, he took his time but managed to blow most of the smoke out the window. He didn’t light up again.

Last night we discovered that we are in tea leaf country as we walked around Tankou last night. Tea shops littered the streets and we even had a little tea party at one. Our entire drive today was surrounded by tea bush(?) covered mountains. Simply beautiful. Horns in China are just a way of life and already we have adjusted to tuning out the noises. People honk so much that it means nothing. I didn’t realize that fully until our bus let out a constant stream of honks 500 m away from a dog in the middle of the road. The dog just casually looked at us then looked away. An elderly lady with shovel over her shoulder was standing on the yellow line across from her dog. She looked as us with an amused look on her face. She didn’t move, the dog didn’t move. Our bus slowed slightly then drove around the dog into the shoulder on our side of the road. Not one passenger glanced up. Not even Taylor, Jay, or Kristen.

Tonight at 11 pm we taking a 17 hour train ride to Guilin, Guangxi Province. Traveling has been my favorite part of this trip so far – whether by train, plane, taxi, scooter, or bus. I’ll let you know if that still stands tomorrow afternoon.

But then we arrived in Fuzhou, Fujian, China (population: 7,000,000). Fuzhou is a site like no other. As far as I could tell the sidewalks in Fuzhou are just extra roads for which any sort of traffic can and will navigate. As we walked the avenue just outside of the main train station we started seeing some exceptions to the norm we had adjusted to in Taiwan. Scooters leapt onto the sidewalks, often heading against traffic straight at us. No big deal, they all seemed plenty competent as they honked incessantly, encouraging pedestrians to move before they ran them over. But then I saw my first car on the sidewalk and I started to consider that my personal safety might be in jeopardy. That thought was short lived however as I saw a bike roll off of the curb into oncoming traffic. To her credit, the lady kept her course on the white line in between two streams of cars that were releasing a chorus of honks. It was then that I realized that NO ONE was safe. Had I stayed any longer in Fuzhou, I have no doubts that a nervous twitch would be in my future.

Our cab ride to the south train station brought our 24 hours stint in Fuzhou to a fitting end. Our ride was twenty minutes and our cabbie had his hand on the horn for at least ten of them. He used sidewalks, curbs, shot across multiple lanes of traffic and had a feel for the road that I didn’t know was possible. But when he opened up the throttle on the empty road south of town, Jay commented, “I think I prefer the traffic”. Agreed. And the great thing about the drivers in Fuzhou – all of this is normal, no one makes funny facial expressions, when someone gets cut off they don’t yell, they expect it and they’ll do the same to you if they can.

500 km or so north east the world is more serene. With a population 1M less that Fuzhou, Hangzhou (population = 6,000,000) has the same amount of traffic but much more courtesy. They use fewer horns and have way more bikes. Yes people take advantage of any open space before them, but I have yet to see a car on the sidewalk or scooters running each other down. In fact, the driving is a bit more like Taiwan here.

That raises the question – Who cares? Right. The differences in driving are obvious differences between two Chinese cultures in relative close proximity. But what are the subtle differences and I am missing? Thousands, I’m sure. Not speaking the language puts me at a severe disadvantage for doing one of the things I love most – observing. Hell the standard way we order at a restaurant is by pointing to random chinese characters. We have never received the same thing twice. Oh well, I’m going to keep on trying. China is pretty rad, Mao and all.

After escaping Taipei via a three hour train ride we (Kristen, Taylor, Jay & I) landed in Hualien a town on the eastern coast of Taiwan. Five minutes after arriving we were already settling in nicely at the closest hotel to the train station. Ten minutes later, free of our packs, we went on a search for food. Fancy that, thirty meters around the corner we stumbled into a darling little place called Cafe Bosondo, a place we would fondly call home for the next two days. It was there we could get the usual – steamed dumplings and udon noodle soup – at all hours of the day.

On with the scooting though. Back in Taipei we had heard rumors that scooters could be rented for as little as NT$150 (USD$5) per day. The sign directly across the street from Cafe Bosondo confirmed that fact. We quickly learned, however, that that rate was only for individuals lucky enough to hold a Taiwanese license. Every rental shop we asked kept pointing us towards one shop that was only a few doors down from our hotel. We finally trotted back to the suggested shop. After only a few minutes of negotiating we had managed to sequester three scooters for mere NT$400 (USD$13) after only leaving Jay’s high school degree as collateral. That night, we spent a few hours dinking around before dark getting our feel for the devices, making sure we were prepared for the adventure we had planned for the next day: scootering Taroko Gorge National Park.

Having our own scooters granted us the abilty to explore more town with less effort. And so to start our third day in Asia we decided to stray from Cafe Bosondo. Twelve or so right turns later we landed at random joint with several locals inside. Perfect for breakfast. “Ni Hao” “hello” “Ni Hao” are the words we used to greet the people at the restaurant. And when I say restaurant, it’s not what you might think. The restaurants here are 90% open front shops with two or three tables and the kitchen right there in front of the tables. So at this place I knew we were in for it when Taylor ordered some omelet looking thing (picture menu) and the proprietor reached into a big freezer, unwrapped the item and slapped it on the grill. Same happened for the rest of our order. Oh well, you win some – you lose some. Luckily the whole meal only cost us NT$230 (USD%7).

After that we headed to Taroko Gorge. It was about 15 km away and we made good time as we cruised along the coast. Eventually we had had to turn west into the mountains where we followed a winding mountain road for a few hours (have no fear mother, we proceeded with extreme caution). We ran into numerous buddhist temples, countless breathtaking views, and tons and tons of cyclists. It was a ride I would have loved to do on my bicycl with brother at my side. Needless to say, the day was a rocking good time, full of laughs, new experiences, and dumplings. Somehow, I don’t think the dumplings will ever get old.

Of course you can see them all over on my photo page: http://ryanroth.net/photos.php.

Kristen and I took different flights and arrived one hour apart. Public transport (bus & train) delivered us to our hostel by 8 am; the train was more crowded than I have ever seen before.

Some other first impressions from a two hour walk. 1%-2% of people wear flu masks. Residents don’t say hello – well, at least not yet. Food is cheap. We had great dumplings for < $ 0.30 USD. Not as many cyclists within the city as I expected, and far more motor bikes than I anticipated.

Another five hour hike around the city helped settle some of my initial thoughts. But first, it is hot here! Between 29 & 33 degrees Celsius all day. Humid too – as we passes the ministry of communications and weather we saw an electronic sign with Chinese characters and “66%”. I can only assume that it was referring to the humidity.

Just like in the states – most people are nice here, a few aren’t. We got some dirty looks from the fashion police while on the train; everyone else treated us kindly, tolerating our hideous attempts at Chinese.

Peace park was awesome! The trees, the water, the tai chi were all magnificent. Tomorrow we’re heading for the coast!

I live on a relatively short street in a very quiet neighborhood. Our house doesn’t have A/C so most of the year you’ll find our windows open – just as they were tonight. Two minutes after arriving home – I was in the kitchen when I heard the tranquility of my neighborhood give way to some serious bass tied to some equally ridiculous gangster rap. I looked out my windows to see those three boys being stalked by a sporty red sedan. The car kept on pulling up to them as they were walking along the sidewalk. The headlights were continuously accelerating towards these boys and they were clearly scared; They had no idea what to do. They walked faster, the car had no trouble keeping up.

Sure enough, I found myself sprinting out the front door, across the street, to the passenger window of the creeper car. I arrived just as the three boys found temporary sanctuary behind a huge conversion van parked on my street. The kid in the passenger seat was no older that seventeen. I directed them to turn their music off. Off it went. Their faces turned a ghostly white.

It’s amazing what happens when you assert yourself. Now I had two kids in a car so scared for their lives that they forgot they could have just pulled away (they were in a car after all). They claimed that three guys were their friends. I called bull shit as I watched the trio sprint down my street out of the corner of my eye. I hope the “discussion” was long enough for my new buddies to get away.

The whole situation was diffused by the time my 80 year old neighbor Hank made it the door… his wife was calling the cops.

The United States spent > $13,000,000,000 last year on the drug war alone. Hmmmm, if we repurposed that money, could it be used to cover healthcare for all of our citizens without raising taxes? Perhaps.

But really – how would our country change with such things legalized?
A few thoughts:

1. We save $13,000,000,000 a year minimum
2. Drug dealers = gone, drugs are regulated, inspected and certified by the FDA, and sold at Walgreens. (this makes $ via taxes)
3. Prison system shrinks exponentially (this saves $ too)
4. We treat addiction as a medical problem (think alcohol, tobacco) instead of a crime
5. Proper use could be taught, drugs could come with instructions, clean needles, a phone number for help (think casinos and gambling addiction).
6. Police officers/ Federal Agents could focus on real crimes and real productivity

I’ll think about this more too – please comment away. Somehow I got sidetracked on drug policy while studying a little physics this morning.

Dennis Kucinich discussing the possibility of the 5th secret session since the mid 1800’s. I managed to watch this entire house session, and it’s downright revealing on the bull shit going down in Washington. Take the time if you have the chance.

And then MTV ran this ad… I know, MTV right? Well we have to face it, when mainstream organizations start to raise flags, perhaps NOW we should start considering the possibilities.

To Do:
Fix Democracy
Fix Freedom
Fix Racism
Fix Education
Fix Wall Street
Fix Federal Reserve
Encourage selflessness
Discourage Apathy
Participate

I literally ran into the store and cruised to the back, well aware of where said converters might be. I saw micro-DVI to VGA, DVI to VGA, mini-DVI to DVI, but no mini-DVI to VGA! So on I hunted down an Apple store employee to see if he could grab me one from the back. After explaining what I needed, he insisted on checking the wall out for himself. The following conversation ensued:

Apple Guy: So what did you want?
Me: a mini-DVI to VGA converter
Apple Guy: (Staring blankly at the wall, hands at his side) Here it is right here…
Me: (with a rather sarcastic ring) Yep, there it is.

45 seconds go by…

Apple Guy: (Pulls a DVI to VGA off the wall) Here ya go
Me: No, I’m looking for mini-DVI to VGA, this clearly says _____

30 seconds (while i’m trying to figure out what’s going on his head)

Apple Guy: (points at the micro-DVI to VGA) Oh, here it is…
Me: Thinking perhaps he’s illiterate – I pulled a few off the wall and pointed to the combination I needed.
Apple Guy: Just stared at the wall baffled he couldn’t find the product.

This wasn’t making me very confident in the $128 value of my AAPL shares. Where did they find this cracker jack? I finally convinced him, after an even more thorough review of the converter wall, and me explaining to him what converters are used for different computers in the Apple arsenal, that he ought to check in the back. After all, I had called ahead and was assured some were in stock.

This whole experience made me a little sad, I was almost certain despite the declining dollar and excellent fiscal policy (read: sarcasm, again) in Washington that my shares would soon go back up to $200. But, between Ben Bernanke, the Apple moron, and numerous other American snafus (health care, social security, Iraq), not only is my stock shot – I think the US has finally run out of cards. Emigration anyone?