One day in Hawaii. What do you do with your one whole day in Hawaii? Well, 90 percent of the kids went to the beach and got sloshed. Stephanie and I went to Pearl Harbor that morning, and what else? C’mon, you know me too well. We should just call it shopping at sea.
So both wearing sundresses and obnoxiously oversized sunglasses, we headed over to Pearl Harbor looking like we just stepped off the set of the movie. All we needed was bright red lipstick. When we got there it was apparent that there are only two types at Pearl Harbor. SAS and Old People. I swear, we’d be in line and someone on a walker would cut, or mosey by on their air tank.
Let’s play a game. TOP THREE THINGS that should tell you you’ve re-entered America.
3. Entitlement. Oh, I’m sorry I thought this was a line. Well that line just goes to shit once your inside. Everyone’s pushing and shoving to see a damn plague.
2. See, I have a HUGE theory in life on parenting. If you want to be like Branglina and create an army of children, that’s fine. In fact it will probably help our economy considering our dollar is going to shit. HOWEVER, if you’re pulling a Spears and your parenting skills are shit- then by all means hire a nanny or DO NOT HAVE OFFSPRING. No one, and I mean no one, thinks it’s adorable when your spawn has a tantrum during a filmstrip of the attack of Pearl Harbor and you ENCOURAGE it by going, ‘Yes, yes that’s the Japs’. SERIOUSLY people? Seriously? As the guide is saying, please be respectful and quiet as this is the grave of 1,173 people, the father is running after this terror SCREAMING. It disgusts me. In short, if you can’t handle them, don’t have them or hire someone who will.
1. Now, number 2 is a pretty serious issue. However, number makes my eyeballs BLEED. No, more appropriately, it makes me want to go to the nearest bathroom and make myself throw up. So I’m standing there, amongst 5 million old people, looking around. What do I see? I KNOW you know what’s coming next. Do I even need to say it? I’ll give you a hint. I just got back from Japan. Image is everything there. Where they have style, fashion, adorable haircuts, and thighs the size of my wrist. Which made me feel OBESE. Guess what? Hahahahaha, I thought I was obese. Oh no no Vanessa. How silly. Just take a look around America. I think the waistlines just expanded the size of the third world countries. Maybe if you gorge yourselves more, you can officially kill off the millions who live on less than a dollar a day. What is that- your dollar menu SNACK at McDonalds, between your lunch and dinner? Repulsive. Downright repulsive, and honestly, really embarrassing. I have spent months taking pictures of people from different countries. They probably come to ours and take pictures of the cows in wheelchairs because they are 800 pounds. Trust me, it’s not McDonalds. Those are all over the world. They have oodles of fast food around the world. They eat it too. So what makes us so- American? Welcome back to America, I guess.
We took a boat- I think my life is officially surrounded around ships- to the memorial where circa 1,173 men rest. Now, I have a slight obsession of World War 2 history. Somewhere along the way, I couldn’t get enough of it. From everything to fascist Italy, Nazi Germany, the Holocaust, to- what else- Pearl Harbor. In the 1930’s, China and Japan were going at it full force. Japan was being downright horribly nasty. They moved upward to Nanking- which is something you should familiarize yourself with. As I said, Japan is very much about image. One of the reason’s they moved on about Himroshima and Nagasaki, is not that they have forgiven as much as it is they chose to forget. The ‘Rape of Nanking’ is not in their textbooks, and for a while they tried to conceal the fact that thousands died in the most atrocious ways feasible. Look it up, and have at that all you want. Quickly, why is it called the ‘Rape of Nanking’? Well, if you’re a soldier and you have disposable life around you, what would you when the world is your sick little oyster? Girls from 14 to elderly to raped gruesomely then disposed of. We were absolutely opposed to that, thus we wanted to remain an ally with China. Eventually, we created an oil embargo which left them with two serious options, and they chose war. The Japanese wanted to cripple our strongest defense- our US fleet. I had never seen one of them actually shot, but it literally shakes the entire battleship. A battleship. Could you imagine how powerful it has to be in order to completely move a battleship backwards? A+B+C= Pearl Harbor. 243,000 killed, the youngest was a 3 month old citizen. It wasn’t the amount of death as much as the destruction that truly crippled the US. Their targets were lined up one after the other innocently, just asking for trouble. The US thought their biggest threat was from within the system, thus the planes were lined wing to wing in the airfields, completely unarmed, just as exposed as Tara Reid at a red carpet premier. After years of studying it, and sobbing over the movie- I was there! Unbelievable to think such a beautiful place was the stage for one of the worst attacks in US territory.
Food for thought: both Vietnam and Hiroshima had museums that ended in such a light that war is bad and to try and maintain peace. Both of them. Even Vietnam which wasn’t exactly shy at pointing fingers. It was interesting because I doubt many people hop from one side of the war to another back to back, and sees how each is commemorated within the culture. What’s that about America? Are we really that scared of not being the big bad wolf that we’re willing to do anything, even War, to make maintain our power? Something else I nearly forgot to mention, god how could I have forgot? The Rape of Nanking? There were 20 some generals and officials on trial for horrendous acts, including the Rape of Nanking. Seven were to be hung, only 1 for the situation in Nanking. They were later honored and a temple was built. People continue to go to pray to them and HONOR them. Wow, right? Wait, but who was in charge of this BS? Oh, the United States? Now why would they turn sides quicker than George Bush’s Iraq excuses? That would because we were afraid of communism- see Vietnam War. We wanted Japan (see a paragraph above to laugh at the irony) as our ally in the fight for communism (including China, yes you can smile again), thus we left Hirohito in power, despite the fact he was behind World War 2. OH UNITED STATES.
Moving along now- after Pearl Harbor, the 36 old people, the 29457733 fat people, and the 7 annoying beastly offspring which cannot be controlled- we took public transportation to the mall. Now, public transportation is a funny thing. You will meet people that you never imagined existed, and even better, they are all together. The weirdest, funniest, strangest people in a mass movement throughout Hawaii. Of course, we are immediately welcomed by an Adolf Hitler look-alike who is looking at us like baby impalas to a lion- bowl cut and all. Five minutes goes by, nope still looking. Another 15, nope, add a creepy smile. Course all the while, we have a growling women- like, for real, growling. A man whose toenails are long- quite abnormally long. My theory is that he can’t reach them to clip them because he is number 29457734. Oh, shortly after number 29457735 is hauled into the bus via wheelchair. He can’t even wheel his wheelchair down the street to the next stop. A man who clearly works with construction makes small talk with us- oh about what other than food. The smell he exudes is fantastic. Really, why sell flower shitastic Paris Hilton perfume when clearly they have not capitalized on sweat and BO. I could really go on if you like. Flip flops with not one, but two pairs of socks over cankles. A shirt with fat peeling from under it. It wasn’t all fat I swear. Let me think. No, there was one person who appeared normal. Then there was Stephanie and I- clad in our sundresses and knock off designer glasses talking on- first port where CELL PHONES WORK- our phones. No wonder Hitler was looking at us with interest. Consider it our own little tour of Hawaii. We had an amazing tour guide who didn’t talk us to sleep- NEXT STOP: CHINATOWN. We interacted with several locals. All in the name of shopping.
I think somewhere, an angel sighed, as I walked into heaven- I mean, Nordstrom. Not necessarily to shop, but hello familiarity! We met up with Hallie, Lindsey, and Andrea. Steph and I got coffees and walked around the 3rd largest mall- not sure if it’s outdoor mall or in general- in America. That night, we had dinner at CPK. Did some more damage, and eventually came back to the ship circa 8.
And the other 90 percent? A mob of disgustingness outside the ship at 9, when dock time begins. Real classy, real classy. Possibly the number 3 popping its head through the surface? I can tell you one thing, if one day in Hawaii makes me sick of American culture, I now know what they mean by having culture shock once you’re inside the states. They say you can be just as adventurous and make a difference within your community but truth be told, I really don’t want to. I have no desire to.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
What Happens when you go through Peanut Butter Withdrawals
*1,000 dollars, 1$ per ticket, towards trying to get off the ship 1st. (Bryan G won)
*1,000 to blow the ship’s whistle as we enter into Miami. *950 to stay in Belgium.
*600 for a map.
*500 for the Captains hat. (Doesn’t fit the winner’s head either.)
*500 to have chips and dip with the Dean. (I’d pay that for the chips and dip alone)
*300 for a bodysuit signed by the crew.
*60 for a Taj Mahal tee-shirt (org. price is 100 rupee or less than 3$)
*40 for a jar of peanut butter, from Trader Joe’s.
*That’s just the price 9 items at random went for. We gave away over 100 items ranging from services on the ship, such as massages, acupuncture sessions, and dinner with the Captain, to weekend trips in Belgium, ski weekends, cabins on the beach, or visits of major cities throughout the US. Several pieces of art and photography were sold from 30 to over 300. A CD by our own amazing Ben and Willie went for circa 200. *There were about 8 of us or so on the committee. At 2 we began a silent auction. That continued until 7. At 8, we began the Live Auction. CC and I played Vanna White, all dolled up and displaying the items as we auctioned them off. Alicen was the gong girl, after the item was sold. Between every handful of items and auctioneer, we raffled off several items.
*In total, we made over 20,000. Apparently a record. Here I was willing to pay 100 for a painting or two, but everyone STARTED at 100. It was hard not to gap as people are offering hundreds of dollars for bedspreads, breakfast in bed from the dean, and other random items. Needless to say, it was ungodly successful.
*1,000 to blow the ship’s whistle as we enter into Miami. *950 to stay in Belgium.
*600 for a map.
*500 for the Captains hat. (Doesn’t fit the winner’s head either.)
*500 to have chips and dip with the Dean. (I’d pay that for the chips and dip alone)
*300 for a bodysuit signed by the crew.
*60 for a Taj Mahal tee-shirt (org. price is 100 rupee or less than 3$)
*40 for a jar of peanut butter, from Trader Joe’s.
*That’s just the price 9 items at random went for. We gave away over 100 items ranging from services on the ship, such as massages, acupuncture sessions, and dinner with the Captain, to weekend trips in Belgium, ski weekends, cabins on the beach, or visits of major cities throughout the US. Several pieces of art and photography were sold from 30 to over 300. A CD by our own amazing Ben and Willie went for circa 200. *There were about 8 of us or so on the committee. At 2 we began a silent auction. That continued until 7. At 8, we began the Live Auction. CC and I played Vanna White, all dolled up and displaying the items as we auctioned them off. Alicen was the gong girl, after the item was sold. Between every handful of items and auctioneer, we raffled off several items.
*In total, we made over 20,000. Apparently a record. Here I was willing to pay 100 for a painting or two, but everyone STARTED at 100. It was hard not to gap as people are offering hundreds of dollars for bedspreads, breakfast in bed from the dean, and other random items. Needless to say, it was ungodly successful.
Monday, April 21, 2008
$1,000 to blow the whistle
Well that's it for now. I'm off to dinner with the girls. Coming up? The SOS Auction. The question is: which one of your kids was crazy enough to buy 'Blow the Ships Whistle' for 1,000? Even more interesting, guess how much a jar of peanut butter cost? A Taj Mahal tee shirt? Trust me, you want to hear this. All that and more later.
Nerdified
Since we are on the ship for 20 days- with one day in Hawaii- we are slammed with things to keep us occupied. One of which- a Nerd Dance. See what happens when you miss one meeting? Anyways, everyone was walking around with backpacks, dorky glasses, awkward looking outfits, etc. Spencer had toilet paper hanging out his pants. Grant and Thomas put orange marker zits all over their faces, etc. I wore half of the gifts I bought for everyone (sorry Dad and Chris). Afterwards I hung out with Nicole (she’s from Lemont!) and Jaime, watching everyone come home from the dance and hanging out.
Kobe: That Spaceship Looks Familiar
On my final day in Japan, Stephanie, Hallie, and I headed towards the island to go to the fashion museum. On our train ride to Rokko Island, we passed the longest bridge in the world. As we study our map carefully, we notice a spaceship-like building on the stop all of the Japanese people got off on. We sat there by ourselves, confused and studying the map. As we zoom past the spaceship, Stephanie goes “Wait, that spaceship looks familiar.” Sure enough the spaceship reads ‘Kobe Fashion Museum’. After backtracking our steps we find out that the Kimono exhibit closed the day before. The next exhibit was to open the day after. We went to the only open gallery they had, which was a local Japanese artists collection. Afterwards we went to a dollar store. Excuse me, 100 yuan. 100 yen. Our vocabulary on foreign currency alone is both impressive and confusing. Its an 100 Yen Store. Leave it up to me to find a dollar store in Japan. After shopping extensively, we took the train back to the center of town to go shopping in an urban area. While Stephanie and Hallie got Starbucks, I separated from them to go shopping in the train station. Well, needless to say, I lost myself there. I spent far too much time and money shopping. I headed back to the port and realized the store was closed, where I intended to buy a phone card. So I started knocking on the closed door and thankfully, they were still inside. Flabbergasted, they gave me a phone card only to find there was an endless line at every phone in the port terminal. I decided to pick a station at random in hopes to se their phone. When I got off, I noticed first of all, no one got off. A bad sign. So I look around. I managed to find the only unsafe place in Japan, I swear. It was a series of dark alleyways, one lit building, and, of course, absolutely no pay phones. By now I had an hour before dock time begins. Considering our next port is only a day in Hawaii, 3 hours of dock time (what you would get if you were 1-15 minutes late) would certainly put a damper on the day. So I headed back to the station and decided I would wait in line. I finally got the phone with half an hour to go, only to realize- How the Hell do you work this thing? Once my 25 minutes flew by, I realized I only had five minutes to spare. Of course, this would be the ideal time to lose your ID. I found it and walked on, completely accepting of receiving dock time by this point. I slid my card through with 1 minute to spare.
There is Tongue on my Tongue
After spending the day in Hiroshima, Stephanie, Lauren, Alicen, Ashly, and I made our way back to the train station for dinner. We really wanted to have a good traditional Japanese meal before we left Japan. Luckily for us, every store has plastic food in the window. We went into a restaurant at random, where a woman offered to translate for us. We eventually decided on just pointing at plastic food to order. Now, if you can remember, one of my goals is go outside my box. So what can I possibly order that will go beyond my comfort zone? How about tongue? Stephanie, Lauren and I all had pigs tongue. Except for the fact you could see the tastebuds, it wasn’t that bad. The seasoning was delicious, the chewy texture was only a reminder that there was currently tongue on my tongue. So there you have it. One baby step at a time
Wow… this is where the Atomic Bomb was dropped
*Hiroshima. We left Tokyo for a nice, long bullet train to the South. That basically translates into a nap catching up for lost sleep. After we got off the five hour train or so, we caught a local train car to the dome, where the bomb was dropped. Under FDR, the Manhattan Project was a 2 billion dollar project with 600,000 working on the bomb. In 1944, it was decided it would be dropped on Japan. A target committee was created to choose the ideal location. Kyoto, Tokyo, and other various places were immediately discarded because there was ‘nothing left to bomb’. It was already torn apart from daily bombings. Hiroshima was chosen because there were no known POW’s or American soldiers nearby. In fact, there was no military at all. It was only comprised of unsuspecting citizens going about their daily business. On August 6th, the 12.5 kiloton ‘Thin Man’ was dropped. 240,000 died immediately, 120,000 died from radiation. When the bomb was dropped, it literally wiped out everything. Everything. Only 5 or so buildings stood in the rumble. One of them happens to be the City Center, which used to be an ornate building, on the waterfront. The bomb was aimed towards the T bridge, directly above the City Center. The blast somehow left the building standing, preserving the location of where the bomb was dropped. You knew as soon as you stepped in the park. You just knew. There was something about this place that had a story to tell. It was in the air. An eerie silence and peacefulness. As you head toward the bridge, you hear soft, sweet music. Women in lei’s and flowered dresses hula to ukuleles. The bridge itself is suspended above a calm waterway, with rows of young cherry blossoms heading off into the distance. A man at the end of the bridge held a piece of paper. Free Hugs.
*At the end of the bridge stood a statue. Do you know what I am talking about? I remember hearing the story when I was in grammar school. She was a little girl when the bomb was dropped, but suffered from leukemia as a little girl. She was 12 years old. The belief is if you fold 1,000 cranes, you will be saved. Well, she may have died, but thousands upon thousands of cranes are left in several glass cases nearby. An entire school of children were standing in front of the memorial, holding umbrellas and bringing chains of cranes.
*Afterwards we went throughout the museum. A whole row of children’s clothing and items were displayed in boxes, all with statements such as ‘Vanessa was 14. She went to school in this outfit, which she sewed herself. When she didn’t return, her family searched for her and found this as her last memory in the rumble.’ Unlike Vietnam, it was from a very unbiased perspective, and, if anything, left a lasting impression of peace. They want you to remember their stories, so that no one will have to suffer through them again. Understandably so. After the bomb was dropped, those who survived were left with lasting impressions. If they survived, they were left with cancer, and other problems from radiation. Little children were throwing up their organs, dying painfully.
*At the end of the bridge stood a statue. Do you know what I am talking about? I remember hearing the story when I was in grammar school. She was a little girl when the bomb was dropped, but suffered from leukemia as a little girl. She was 12 years old. The belief is if you fold 1,000 cranes, you will be saved. Well, she may have died, but thousands upon thousands of cranes are left in several glass cases nearby. An entire school of children were standing in front of the memorial, holding umbrellas and bringing chains of cranes.
*Afterwards we went throughout the museum. A whole row of children’s clothing and items were displayed in boxes, all with statements such as ‘Vanessa was 14. She went to school in this outfit, which she sewed herself. When she didn’t return, her family searched for her and found this as her last memory in the rumble.’ Unlike Vietnam, it was from a very unbiased perspective, and, if anything, left a lasting impression of peace. They want you to remember their stories, so that no one will have to suffer through them again. Understandably so. After the bomb was dropped, those who survived were left with lasting impressions. If they survived, they were left with cancer, and other problems from radiation. Little children were throwing up their organs, dying painfully.
Do you want to go, Want to go to Tokyo?
After a two and a half hour bullet train to Tokyo at 6:30 AM, we arrived in TOKYO! Since the Imperial Palace was near the station, we just made our way over and looked at the Emperor’s pad. Then we made our way to the Sony building, which is basically like a giant Best Buy, if you ask me. We headed over to the Shinjuku district, where their version of Times Square is. Basically it’s the big signs, flashing lights, and lots of stores kind of area. We walked around. Found a petstore with the cutest little baby animals. All while trying to find a hotel for the night. Finally we got frustrated and decided to eat at a little hole in the wall. Had some pretty amazing potstickers. By this point, if my adventures with chopsticks was a movie I’d be at the end, where they zoom out with me proudly holding them semi-correctly, scooping up my potstickers without dropping a bite with end credits beginning. Can’t say SAS wasn’t for nothing! Haha… joke! Then we decided we would figure everything out after we bought baseball tickets. You heard me! We headed over to the Tokyo Dome where we bought tickets for the Giants versus Swallows baseball game. To kill the time until the game we went to the fashion district- Harajuku. We spent an hour roaming the packed streets and cheap, adorable shops. We made our way back to the baseball game where we sat behind home plate in the nose bleed area along with half of SAS. After the game we had some time to kill so we went to a 24 hour Denny’s and took our dear sweet time ordering. After Denny’s we made our way to another overnight café, this one far more sketch. This one was a small room, with the lights brightly shining, and men sleeping in chairs. We got a little private booth and crammed four of us in the little padded area.
Japan
Times Lost: 5 respectively?
Items Lost: I gave away Mason’s 34371273 granola bars for sustenance for my friends. Does that count?
Near Death Experiences: Negatives- an eerie feeling of safeness.
Osaka
When we arrived in Japan we had a list of places to go, and that’s the extent of our planning. Everything that ensued is just as much of a surprise as it was to us. First up to bat: Osaka. Well known for its nightlife, flashy streets, jam packed with clubs, and other venues. We took the train to Shin-Osaka, where we got off and proceeded to look at a map. We’re looking and looking trying to figure out where we were when we look up and are drawn to a giant red ferris wheel. We decide that’s what we’ll go do. So we go into this mall and hop on a ferris wheel where we see a nearby bowling alley and decide that’s where we’ll go next. We make our way to the alley, but need to go find an ATM. Just a note: ATM’s in Japan are virtually impossible to find for foreigners. After looking are endlessly for one, we decided to take a time out and eat lunch at a cute little café in the train station. We decide our next plan of action will be Spa World, a 24 hour spa with pools, spas, and saunas. When we get the Spa World, we think the area is too eerie. The shops are empty, the streets too quiet, and it just didn’t feel right. I keep insisting we need to go to another part, and finally everyone agrees to try Numba, the more active part. We leave the station and by this time it’s night. We’re officially lost and getting frustrated. We start heading down the street and finally the streets become louder, more colorful, and your suddenly overwhelmed with hotels and other places to stay. We start to go down the side streets where thousands of clubs, bars, restaurants, and other random shops are when Alicen and Ashly want to look at this internet café. Turns out it’s open 24 hours and has different types of chairs and rooms so you can sleep the night. We decide we’ll just stay there. It was immaculate. A tiny little chandelier greeted you at the front, the chairs were leather, the computer brand new, the toilet seats were heated, a shower with curling iron and other various amenities, etc. All in a little comic stand slash internet café. So we leave our stuff there and go wander the streets. We end up at the Penguin Bar where we stay for a round of drinks. Then we decide we should probably go get dinner. Lauren and I get McDonalds, while the others raid 7-11. After we meet up we wander trying to look for another place to go to. Somehow we get suckered into going to a local bar, where a bunch of locals were dancing some extremely weird techno dance. We were just sitting there looking at them like what the hell. We didn’t stay long and decided to call it a night. We were all too drained from wandering around aimlessly and way too excited for the internet- not something we have at our disposal on the ship. So we spent our night randomly in cubicles, sitting in leather chairs, and dreaming sweet dreams about AIM and perezhilton.com.
Items Lost: I gave away Mason’s 34371273 granola bars for sustenance for my friends. Does that count?
Near Death Experiences: Negatives- an eerie feeling of safeness.
Osaka
When we arrived in Japan we had a list of places to go, and that’s the extent of our planning. Everything that ensued is just as much of a surprise as it was to us. First up to bat: Osaka. Well known for its nightlife, flashy streets, jam packed with clubs, and other venues. We took the train to Shin-Osaka, where we got off and proceeded to look at a map. We’re looking and looking trying to figure out where we were when we look up and are drawn to a giant red ferris wheel. We decide that’s what we’ll go do. So we go into this mall and hop on a ferris wheel where we see a nearby bowling alley and decide that’s where we’ll go next. We make our way to the alley, but need to go find an ATM. Just a note: ATM’s in Japan are virtually impossible to find for foreigners. After looking are endlessly for one, we decided to take a time out and eat lunch at a cute little café in the train station. We decide our next plan of action will be Spa World, a 24 hour spa with pools, spas, and saunas. When we get the Spa World, we think the area is too eerie. The shops are empty, the streets too quiet, and it just didn’t feel right. I keep insisting we need to go to another part, and finally everyone agrees to try Numba, the more active part. We leave the station and by this time it’s night. We’re officially lost and getting frustrated. We start heading down the street and finally the streets become louder, more colorful, and your suddenly overwhelmed with hotels and other places to stay. We start to go down the side streets where thousands of clubs, bars, restaurants, and other random shops are when Alicen and Ashly want to look at this internet café. Turns out it’s open 24 hours and has different types of chairs and rooms so you can sleep the night. We decide we’ll just stay there. It was immaculate. A tiny little chandelier greeted you at the front, the chairs were leather, the computer brand new, the toilet seats were heated, a shower with curling iron and other various amenities, etc. All in a little comic stand slash internet café. So we leave our stuff there and go wander the streets. We end up at the Penguin Bar where we stay for a round of drinks. Then we decide we should probably go get dinner. Lauren and I get McDonalds, while the others raid 7-11. After we meet up we wander trying to look for another place to go to. Somehow we get suckered into going to a local bar, where a bunch of locals were dancing some extremely weird techno dance. We were just sitting there looking at them like what the hell. We didn’t stay long and decided to call it a night. We were all too drained from wandering around aimlessly and way too excited for the internet- not something we have at our disposal on the ship. So we spent our night randomly in cubicles, sitting in leather chairs, and dreaming sweet dreams about AIM and perezhilton.com.
Let's take a second look at... Assless Pants
Have a Britney Spears approach to childhood where less is more? Don’t have the intelligence to change a diaper? Too lazy to take off the kid’s pants? That’s okay. China has your back. Meet the invention made for the future squatters of the world, one ass at a time: ASSLESS PANTS. I was at the Temple of Heaven when I noticed a flash of nude colored skin coming from a little boy. At first I thought I was just hallucinating from my lack of normal food and the overwhelming amount of unidentified goods in my stomach- but no, there was indeed a giant tear in his behind. Then, you start noticing things. Everywhere you look is baby genitals. Sitting on the grass. Sitting on their mother’s lap. Exposed and open to the world. They are regular pants, except the crotch is cut out. They can be sold that way or you can get crafty and make your own. It’s a two step process. Real easy for those of you who are interested! Just apply scissors to the garment. Step two: Cut. The choice of hole size is all yours. Explore the possibilities. Zig zag hole? Straight hole? I’m sure there is a perfect fit for you and your hole. Expectant teenage mothers- this is perfect for you. All you Jamie Lynn Spear’s of the world can now reduce the cost of having a baby substantially with the assless pants invention
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Shangblah
That night we flew to Shanghai for the rest of the night and the next day. Our plane there was pretty amazing. It was 9 across, with 85% SAS students on it. They had huge screen TV’s that showed take off and landing through a camera on the bottom of the plane. Pretty cool I suppose, if flying is your thing. Let’s just say I usually take advantage of the free beer with your meal on planes to wear off the acute awareness of being suspended thousands of miles above civilization in a foreign aircraft. The fact Sydney next to me, after telling her I’m scared of flying, tells me that if we die, she’ll be fine with it because she’s lived a good life, doesn’t help. Not the usual ‘don’t worry, we’ll be fine’ response I was hoping for. On the other side Alex is remarking on the coolness of the giant screen and seeing the little lights go into the distance. Wretched. Anyways, the only day I had in Shanghai was wet, bleak, and gray. It was hardly anything to write home about. My shoes soaked through, the bottom of my jeans were wet, and I felt like a wet dog. Stephanie, Hallie, and I headed to the ‘city area’, where we had McDonald’s and wandered the streets in search of the art museum. We looked at an exhibit and as we were leaving a couples of young locals came after us. Now, we were warned about scam artists who trick you into having tea with them and then leaving you to foot this giant bill. They were nice enough but then they dropped the ‘tea’ word (haha get it, tea/ t word?). Immediately we all look at each other, smile politely, and excuse ourselves. We had walked away from the scam. On our way out of the park, Hallie noticed some other tourists being suckered, but they were taking the bait. She walked up to them and told them not to go with them. As we were walking away, the scammers must have realized what we had done because she started yelling, screaming and racing after us. We ran across the street and hide in a nearby Starbucks. Convienent hiding spot, right? Haha. Anyways, we were in search for a grocery store. A women overheard us talking about cheap food and mentioned that there was a Walmart nearby. Thus forth begins the adventure of our travels to Walmart. After months of shopping at markets, hole in the walls shops, and the occasional grocery store with everything in foreign font, a Walmart is more exciting Christmas and Taco Day combined. Although she wrote Walmart in Chinese, we couldn’t find anyone who understood where or what Walmart was. One cabbie even looked and said, ‘WAH-MAR’- something that’ll forever be engraved in our minds as the funniest thing ever. Finally we made our way to a hotel, that translated to the taxi cab driver, or so we thought. We drove around watching our bill slowly, but steadily, increase as we become very lost. We cross the bridge away from the city and farther away from civilization. We stop and ask for directions and we’re officially mindlessly driving around. Finally, that damn smiley face laughs at us for being such silly girls, and we go crazy in a two story Walmart. As it should, the Walmart was a far cry from home, but it had a touch of the familiar to it. There are huge tanks with live fish swimming around, and copious amounts of rice spilling over in baskets sitting in the middle of the room surrounded by row after row of foreign food. It’s kind of like a big game of ‘what’s this?’ What is this picture of crackers with yellow stuff? I don’t know, throw it in the cart. How about this brownish colored liquid? No idea. Don’t worry, I have plenty of candy to share with everyone back home to play the guessing game with. Word of advice, the nucleus-like substance with brown in the middle not only looks like shit, but tastes like it too. Mmm… yummy. Haha. We got back to the ship as nightfall came, wet and hands full of Walmart bags. I have nothing against my time in China, and was so happy I went, but it’s also not a country I’ll be visiting any time soon again. Let’s just say I was happy and ready to move on. Not to mention a newly restocked drawer with random items for my feasting pleasure.
Pandas and more old stuff
On our final day we started by booking it to the zoo. I’m not going to lie, I chose the trip specifically to see the pandas. It was pitiful. They were cute as sin, don’t get me wrong. They were just so sad looking, all locked up in tiny rooms. One even sat by a door, putting his paw up against and looking out mournfully. Big Tom went to the actual zoo and said they were all in tiny cages, the size of their bodies. We headed towards the Summer Palace, where the emperors would spend their summers. The title is pretty clear, more old stuff. By this point everything was just a big ornate building, with cherry blossoms blooming nearby and impressive landscape in the distance. Katie, Annabel, and I walked around looking at the gardens and what not. We had a women come up to us and insist we all take turns taking pictures with her daughter. Then she decided she wanted to be in them too. It was really cute. We headed across the street for lunch. I stayed long enough to try the fish pizza. Go ahead and ask where I was three minutes later? Go ahead, ask. Well, next door. Enjoying a delicious double cheeseburger with fries and a Fanta. Mmm… Don’t think I wasn’t the only one. Soon everyone was next door, ordering their own meals and dining on the deliciousness that is McDonalds (slim pickings abroad, unless you’re a KFC freak. Seriously, who knew KFC was so freaking huge abroad??) We had more time to kill before the airport so we headed to, where else, the Silk Market. I guess my trips are usually predictable, aren’t they? They ALWAYS end up back at shopping, with or against my will. That’s fine, I’m now 2 trench coats, 3 purses, 1 clutch, 1 polo, 1 pair of shoes, 3 bags, 1 dress, 2 shawls, 1 pair of chopsticks, and 3 pieces of jewelry better of a person, haha. I love my life.
Climbing the Great Wall= Death??
So on our third day in Beijing we finally made it to a section of the Great Wall. Other SAS students had been talking about sliding down it or taking a lift up it. We obviously went to another section because ours was virtually at a 85 degree angle. The first couple of sections were easy enough but then it just went straight up. It was the stairmaster from hell. Little step. Big step. Bigger step. Repeat. Each time you think you see the final platform, but then you get there and realize that there’s still plenty more. When we finally reached the top, breathless and sweating, it was the most unbelievable thing ever. Too bad China has horrible pollution and you could barely see through the smog. The accomplishment was fine enough with me. Going down was like heaven. By now, other tourists started pouring in by the hundreds and were virtually stopping on each and every step. Now that would have been hell. It would have taken hours to get to the top had we not gotten there before the rush. After the Great Wall we went back to the campus to meet the students and see the campus. I hung out with Maggie, Jessica, and Tracy- all freshmen at Tsinghua. They took a group of us girls around campus. It was pretty remarkable being on a campus again, let alone in China. Not to mention their campus is ridiculously huge. I’m talking HUGE. They have everything they need at their fingertips and barely ever leave campus. Need a haircut? Go to the state of the art barber shop, 8 seats, complete with blasting music to add to the experience. Dinner? Try any of the twenty restaurants on campus. I was impressed. After walking around, we headed to their cafeteria to eat dinner. It was a long buffet style and the utensils? Chopsticks of course. A mass amount of bright green chopsticks sit in buckets instead of the usual plastic forks and knives. I could probably write an entire blog on the adventures of Vanessa and chopsticks alone. After dinner they helped us communicate to a non-English speaking (basically everyone in China) cab driver how to get back to the Silk Market. This cabbie must have been in his 80’s and was either falling asleep or on drugs because his eyes were tiny slits as he raced in between lanes on the highway and nearly drove into every passing vehicle. Since there are no seatbelts at all, I whisper something about this not feeling right to my friends. Sure enough, minutes later a car swerves into our lane and we slam on the breaks, nearly missing the car. Only minutes later, another car swerves in front of us nearly missing us as well. All the while our cab driver is half asleep and continuing to drive in other lanes. We would say turn over, but he doesn’t speak an ounce, not one ounce, of English so we were trapped. Very trapped. Finally, the ride from Hell is over and we go shopping. Note: 2 near death experiences= cab ride from Hell. Then we head into Silk Market to master round 2 of the enormous space. Bring it on.
Chopstick Land
Items Lost: Zero.
Times Lost: Zero.
Near death experiences: Two.
When we landed in Beijing, we headed to Tsinghua University, where we would be staying on campus. We had dinner in the guest house: Peking duck. I went to bed pretty early because I was exhausted. On our second day we headed out to Tiananmen Square. Famous, famous square. It is the gate to the Forbidden City. Well, four of us students were running behind the rest of the group. So we had to run through the square with our Chinese students, trying to catch up. Well, meanwhile, Tiananmen Square is flashing before our eyes. I had enough time to hand Big Tom my camera to take one picture. Too bad he moved at the last second and I officially have my feet on the cobblestone of Tiananmen Square. There’s one for the Christmas card. So we spent a couple hours in the Forbidden City. Ridiculously, RIDICULOUSLY huge. Seriously, I’m not quite sure how someone could live there. It makes the Versailles in France look like servants quarters. You would enter a square with large ornate buildings surrounding you, thinking oh wow this is huge. Then you would go through a gate and repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat at least 4 times until you realize, oops, there are palaces alongside every one of these huge squares that we missed? Not 1 palace, but 6 East palaces and 6 West palaces? Of course half of the time you are there trying to figure out where to go, you are either asked to take a picture with someone, their kid, or they forgo the asking and try and discretely take it without you noticing. It didn’t help I was walking around with a really tall brunette and my hair is platinum blonde. Afterwards we headed to the Temple of Heaven, where they would make their sacrifices to the Gods. Basically, it was more ornate buildings. I was pretty content just drinking my ice tea and counting down the time until lunch. Finally we went to lunch which was another share style restaurant that had some pretty bomb chicken. How sad is it that the highlights of my day is usually food? Typical. After lunch we headed to a flying acrobatic show. I was expecting something along the lines of a Disney show, with women doing intricate stretches in beaded uniforms. Um, no. This was ridiculous. Men were jumping on a teeter totter on stilts, being flung mid-air only to sit on a suspended chair or hang onto a suspended stick. Women piled onto one bike by the dozen, hanging onto who knows what while it was moving. A giant pyramid formed with a man on top balancing himself on a wooden platform resting on a ball, then proceeding to jump on it so a spoon would go into his hat. I mean, undescribable. I could hardly do it justice. The most insane act was this giant mouse wheel suspended in mid air. Two men walked along the edges, with huge black bags over their heads, while it was moving in circles, tripping and nearly falling two stories. Anyways, we finished up with our day pretty early so they decided to drop us off at the Silk Street Pearl Market. I had heard of this from my mom and was expecting to pull up to a street market. No, a building. A heavenly building. 4 floors of whatever your little heart could desire and more. Most people are ‘drinking around the world,’ well I am ‘shopping around the world.’ I got overly consumed in the purse floor that I never even made it to the clothes or pearls. I met my friends at the restaurants alongside the market after it had closed and got- gasp, sigh, drool- SUBWAY! A delectable 6 inch Italian with tomatoes that are red, actually red, and lettuce that isn’t dripping in soggy water, and cheese that AREN’T in the form of blocks. Even writing about it now I am swallowing pretty hard, holding my breath until Hawaii for one of my weaknesses. In case you haven’t noticed or caught on, the food on the ship is a little, uh, predictable? There has to be something wrong with me if I am more excited about the Subway then, oh, Tiananmen Square? Haha… typical, Vanessa, typical.
Times Lost: Zero.
Near death experiences: Two.
When we landed in Beijing, we headed to Tsinghua University, where we would be staying on campus. We had dinner in the guest house: Peking duck. I went to bed pretty early because I was exhausted. On our second day we headed out to Tiananmen Square. Famous, famous square. It is the gate to the Forbidden City. Well, four of us students were running behind the rest of the group. So we had to run through the square with our Chinese students, trying to catch up. Well, meanwhile, Tiananmen Square is flashing before our eyes. I had enough time to hand Big Tom my camera to take one picture. Too bad he moved at the last second and I officially have my feet on the cobblestone of Tiananmen Square. There’s one for the Christmas card. So we spent a couple hours in the Forbidden City. Ridiculously, RIDICULOUSLY huge. Seriously, I’m not quite sure how someone could live there. It makes the Versailles in France look like servants quarters. You would enter a square with large ornate buildings surrounding you, thinking oh wow this is huge. Then you would go through a gate and repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat at least 4 times until you realize, oops, there are palaces alongside every one of these huge squares that we missed? Not 1 palace, but 6 East palaces and 6 West palaces? Of course half of the time you are there trying to figure out where to go, you are either asked to take a picture with someone, their kid, or they forgo the asking and try and discretely take it without you noticing. It didn’t help I was walking around with a really tall brunette and my hair is platinum blonde. Afterwards we headed to the Temple of Heaven, where they would make their sacrifices to the Gods. Basically, it was more ornate buildings. I was pretty content just drinking my ice tea and counting down the time until lunch. Finally we went to lunch which was another share style restaurant that had some pretty bomb chicken. How sad is it that the highlights of my day is usually food? Typical. After lunch we headed to a flying acrobatic show. I was expecting something along the lines of a Disney show, with women doing intricate stretches in beaded uniforms. Um, no. This was ridiculous. Men were jumping on a teeter totter on stilts, being flung mid-air only to sit on a suspended chair or hang onto a suspended stick. Women piled onto one bike by the dozen, hanging onto who knows what while it was moving. A giant pyramid formed with a man on top balancing himself on a wooden platform resting on a ball, then proceeding to jump on it so a spoon would go into his hat. I mean, undescribable. I could hardly do it justice. The most insane act was this giant mouse wheel suspended in mid air. Two men walked along the edges, with huge black bags over their heads, while it was moving in circles, tripping and nearly falling two stories. Anyways, we finished up with our day pretty early so they decided to drop us off at the Silk Street Pearl Market. I had heard of this from my mom and was expecting to pull up to a street market. No, a building. A heavenly building. 4 floors of whatever your little heart could desire and more. Most people are ‘drinking around the world,’ well I am ‘shopping around the world.’ I got overly consumed in the purse floor that I never even made it to the clothes or pearls. I met my friends at the restaurants alongside the market after it had closed and got- gasp, sigh, drool- SUBWAY! A delectable 6 inch Italian with tomatoes that are red, actually red, and lettuce that isn’t dripping in soggy water, and cheese that AREN’T in the form of blocks. Even writing about it now I am swallowing pretty hard, holding my breath until Hawaii for one of my weaknesses. In case you haven’t noticed or caught on, the food on the ship is a little, uh, predictable? There has to be something wrong with me if I am more excited about the Subway then, oh, Tiananmen Square? Haha… typical, Vanessa, typical.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Sneak Previews and Main Features?
You know, something they warn us is that when you start seeing these places, and it becomes personal to you, it changes how you perceive the news. It’s something to think about. On CNN.com, we graze over the news that doesn’t apply to us or affect us. Well, in Kuala Lampur, there was a shooting at the airport. It doesn’t make headlines and it doesn’t even make top news. Understandable. Yet, it’s crazy to think just a couple weeks ago, Hallie and I were sitting there eating our McDonalds cheeseburgers watching silly commercials and waiting for our delayed plane. The same plane that had a extra passenger on it, accounted for. It’s not by any means a large airport, and when they say someone was shot at the cash exchange, it’s easy to say it’s nearby. 6 people were shot. Wow. Well, considering I arrive in Japan in 4 hours, I should probably get some sleep. So I’ll have to leave it at that. Up next? Beijing and Shanghai. I fell in love with one, disappointed with the other. Which is which? You’ll have to wait, I suppose. And a mystery to both of us: Tokyo, Hiroshima, Kyoto, Osaka, and Kobe. Let's cross our fingers and see what happens!
City of Tyrese’s Giant Underwear Ad
I have a confession to make. I slept through entering Hong Kong. So when I came out to breakfast, after already docking, I was greeted with the city in its entirety. There weren’t any lights in a distance or sun setting behind the full skyline. It was cloudly, and bleak. Amidst the impressive backdrop was Tyrese. Tyrese at 60 floors tall donning nothing but tighty whitey’s. And that is the first thing that comes to my mind when I think Hong Kong skyline. Haha
No really, Hong Kong. One day. One mission: to finish my to do list. Stephanie, Ashly, Ali, and I set out to conquer the list in our one day. First up? Victoria Peak. We took a double decker with some Aussie’s who chatted up with us until getting to the tram. Tram to the peak, which was overcast and cloudy. Luckily for us, there was a mall in the clouds. Ah, heaven. Literally. So after lunch and some shopping, we headed down and took off for mission 2. Shopping. Excessive, I know. This time we took bus to subway, subway to Ladies Market. Very fancy subway system I might add. Now, the Ladies Market area was overwhelming. Once you exited the subway, you were greeted with sign after sign of Chinese symbols. The street was packed with locals. Definitely not in Kansas anymore. After completing the 3 block long market, and managing only to buy one item, we went to Starbucks. On our way back to the subway, I decide now is the time to get a camera. See South Africa blog for whereabouts of dear sweet dead Canon Powershot. The birth of my new Olympus 1200, complete with 20 settings, camera case, 2 batterys, 2 memory cards, tripod, battery charger with both HK charger and US, and for fun let’s throw in a free Hello Kitty bag with matching Hello Kitty camera case. Only in Asia would you camera come with a free Hello Kitty bag. Anyways, I am in love. This could be the start of something wonderfully new. We headed back to the ship, ate dinner, and got ready to go out. We took the subway to Lon Kwai Fong, where the bars are. Basically, it’s a whole circle of bars, restaurants, and the like. We went in one underground, where we met a bunch of US sailors who were in port for 4 days. We had drinks with them and danced, and eventually made our way back up to the surface. By now, the street was flooded with SAS kids. We went to a hole in the wall and walked through the mess of US kids with our drinks and met up with some friends. After another hour or so we eventually made our way back, but not before a quick stop at Mickey D’s. And that, my friend, was my one day in Hong Kong. And let me tell you- I could come back in a heartbeat. I loved it. LOVED IT. It was like New York City, but better. The skyline is unbelievable- building after building. At night, they are all lit up multi colored, with ships going back and forth in the water. It was the perfect blend of the familiar with the traditional. Every turn you were surprised to see CPK, but at the same token were 18983463235 different signs in a language you couldn’t even pretend to understand. Unbelievable. Top three on the list for sure. It’s getting harder to gauge the countries. Each one steals a little piece of my heart.
No really, Hong Kong. One day. One mission: to finish my to do list. Stephanie, Ashly, Ali, and I set out to conquer the list in our one day. First up? Victoria Peak. We took a double decker with some Aussie’s who chatted up with us until getting to the tram. Tram to the peak, which was overcast and cloudy. Luckily for us, there was a mall in the clouds. Ah, heaven. Literally. So after lunch and some shopping, we headed down and took off for mission 2. Shopping. Excessive, I know. This time we took bus to subway, subway to Ladies Market. Very fancy subway system I might add. Now, the Ladies Market area was overwhelming. Once you exited the subway, you were greeted with sign after sign of Chinese symbols. The street was packed with locals. Definitely not in Kansas anymore. After completing the 3 block long market, and managing only to buy one item, we went to Starbucks. On our way back to the subway, I decide now is the time to get a camera. See South Africa blog for whereabouts of dear sweet dead Canon Powershot. The birth of my new Olympus 1200, complete with 20 settings, camera case, 2 batterys, 2 memory cards, tripod, battery charger with both HK charger and US, and for fun let’s throw in a free Hello Kitty bag with matching Hello Kitty camera case. Only in Asia would you camera come with a free Hello Kitty bag. Anyways, I am in love. This could be the start of something wonderfully new. We headed back to the ship, ate dinner, and got ready to go out. We took the subway to Lon Kwai Fong, where the bars are. Basically, it’s a whole circle of bars, restaurants, and the like. We went in one underground, where we met a bunch of US sailors who were in port for 4 days. We had drinks with them and danced, and eventually made our way back up to the surface. By now, the street was flooded with SAS kids. We went to a hole in the wall and walked through the mess of US kids with our drinks and met up with some friends. After another hour or so we eventually made our way back, but not before a quick stop at Mickey D’s. And that, my friend, was my one day in Hong Kong. And let me tell you- I could come back in a heartbeat. I loved it. LOVED IT. It was like New York City, but better. The skyline is unbelievable- building after building. At night, they are all lit up multi colored, with ships going back and forth in the water. It was the perfect blend of the familiar with the traditional. Every turn you were surprised to see CPK, but at the same token were 18983463235 different signs in a language you couldn’t even pretend to understand. Unbelievable. Top three on the list for sure. It’s getting harder to gauge the countries. Each one steals a little piece of my heart.
One Eyed Vanessa Monster
The night of the Mekong Delta Day trip, I ran into some girls at dinner who invited me to go out with them. Larissa, Jenna, and I headed to Lions Den- where they had liters of beer for 3 US dollars. Amazingly cheap. Anyways, so my eye had been bothering me all day. So I dragged my contact off my eye, hoping to clear my contact. When it didn’t come on, I got up to go to the bathroom annoyed. Turns out my contact had ripped in two. It was the very beginning of the night, we just got there, and the shuttle took at least half an hour one way until the ship. So I had to suck it up. Now, I can’t see. Really. The big E? You couldn’t pay me a thousand dollars to read a word that size. So the entire night I had one eye perfectly clear, and the other painfully blurry. For a while we tried making a patch out of a napkin. Trying to explain eye patch in Vietnamese? Not so much.
After a while a group of us walked to Blue Geico nearby. We hung out there, where I proceeded to tell the RA’s my story, and why I would sporadically talk with one eye closed. Eventually we made it to Apocolypse Now. The driver told Larissa and I we both owed a dollar, even though it was five seconds away. I refused, and ran in without paying, leaving behind a very angry driver. After a while I lost my friends so I started dancing with a bunch of locals. The entire place was packed with SASer’s so it really didn’t matter. I broke away and started talking with a bunch of Australians for a while. After a long night, I found some SASer’s going home and headed back- one eye and all. Needless to say, I paid up for it in the morning. I woke up cross-eyed. After watching Alvin and the Chipmunks (we have no control over the TV channels, obviously), I finally dragged myself out of bed and into the city. They made us wait in the boiling hot shuttle bus for an hour, sans air conditioning or even shade. Finally, we got into the city. I dragged myself to the rail pass station, had to wait in line with half of SAS, and meandered through the market by myself. After shopping, I ran out of things to do solo (and money). On the plus side, I was feeling better. I walked into a mall which coincidentally and totally unplanned (not) had a spa. Behold: my very first massage! I’ll force my sister to massage me, but she doesn’t count. 1) She’s not a professional. 2) She’s twelve. So I think it’s safe to say it was my first big deal massage. Anyways, so this women just strips you down like its nothing, then lays you on the bed, and before you know it she just jumps on the table and straddles you. Anyways, it was $14.20 plus tip. Crazy, huh? Afterwards, I went to a coffee shop. They told me they took credit card, so I went and sat on the ledge, overlooking the square. When the check came, they looked at my card like they had never seen one before. Cash only. Well, well, well. See, I had bargained with a lady earlier and told her I’ve give her every penny I had- 10 dollars- for two Roxy book bags. Now, I knew I lied, but that still only left me with 40,000 dong. My bill? 45,000. So as I clearly sitting there, digging for money, everyone is looking at me with interest. Silly American. These Brits are just smoking and drinking like no big deal. Keep in mind 5,000 dong= 30 cents or so. Luckily they let me slide, but really now, is it that hard to lend someone 30 cents? I meet up with Lauren, Ali, and Stephanie. We head towards the market to have dinner. On our way back we spilt up to get our dresses. I figured it would only take me a minute or so. As I walk into the store, there was already trouble. A bunch of SAS girls were sitting around complaining. One was yelling and throwing a fit. She walked out with a bunch of clothes without paying for them. Another left to go pay with a credit card, but they took her and didn’t come back for an hour. I decided to go get to an ATM so I wouldn’t have to walk several blocks to charge it to my card. ATM number one: No. ATM number one again: No. ATM number two: No. ATM number three: Occupied by Asian man who is taking far too exceedingly long. Ten minutes later, ATM number three: REJECTED. So I walk back, contemplating which dress to leave behind. I can’t leave my mom’s, that’s just mean. I suppose I could leave the pink one, it looks like a potato sack. I mean, what stranger would lend me 76 dollars? Especially when no one could even spare 33 cents?? And you know what? That night, after showing off my three dress (not worth 150, but definitely an experience in and of itself), I walked to Libby’s room and paid her back every cent. A stranger. A perfect stranger. The world is full of surprises.
After a while a group of us walked to Blue Geico nearby. We hung out there, where I proceeded to tell the RA’s my story, and why I would sporadically talk with one eye closed. Eventually we made it to Apocolypse Now. The driver told Larissa and I we both owed a dollar, even though it was five seconds away. I refused, and ran in without paying, leaving behind a very angry driver. After a while I lost my friends so I started dancing with a bunch of locals. The entire place was packed with SASer’s so it really didn’t matter. I broke away and started talking with a bunch of Australians for a while. After a long night, I found some SASer’s going home and headed back- one eye and all. Needless to say, I paid up for it in the morning. I woke up cross-eyed. After watching Alvin and the Chipmunks (we have no control over the TV channels, obviously), I finally dragged myself out of bed and into the city. They made us wait in the boiling hot shuttle bus for an hour, sans air conditioning or even shade. Finally, we got into the city. I dragged myself to the rail pass station, had to wait in line with half of SAS, and meandered through the market by myself. After shopping, I ran out of things to do solo (and money). On the plus side, I was feeling better. I walked into a mall which coincidentally and totally unplanned (not) had a spa. Behold: my very first massage! I’ll force my sister to massage me, but she doesn’t count. 1) She’s not a professional. 2) She’s twelve. So I think it’s safe to say it was my first big deal massage. Anyways, so this women just strips you down like its nothing, then lays you on the bed, and before you know it she just jumps on the table and straddles you. Anyways, it was $14.20 plus tip. Crazy, huh? Afterwards, I went to a coffee shop. They told me they took credit card, so I went and sat on the ledge, overlooking the square. When the check came, they looked at my card like they had never seen one before. Cash only. Well, well, well. See, I had bargained with a lady earlier and told her I’ve give her every penny I had- 10 dollars- for two Roxy book bags. Now, I knew I lied, but that still only left me with 40,000 dong. My bill? 45,000. So as I clearly sitting there, digging for money, everyone is looking at me with interest. Silly American. These Brits are just smoking and drinking like no big deal. Keep in mind 5,000 dong= 30 cents or so. Luckily they let me slide, but really now, is it that hard to lend someone 30 cents? I meet up with Lauren, Ali, and Stephanie. We head towards the market to have dinner. On our way back we spilt up to get our dresses. I figured it would only take me a minute or so. As I walk into the store, there was already trouble. A bunch of SAS girls were sitting around complaining. One was yelling and throwing a fit. She walked out with a bunch of clothes without paying for them. Another left to go pay with a credit card, but they took her and didn’t come back for an hour. I decided to go get to an ATM so I wouldn’t have to walk several blocks to charge it to my card. ATM number one: No. ATM number one again: No. ATM number two: No. ATM number three: Occupied by Asian man who is taking far too exceedingly long. Ten minutes later, ATM number three: REJECTED. So I walk back, contemplating which dress to leave behind. I can’t leave my mom’s, that’s just mean. I suppose I could leave the pink one, it looks like a potato sack. I mean, what stranger would lend me 76 dollars? Especially when no one could even spare 33 cents?? And you know what? That night, after showing off my three dress (not worth 150, but definitely an experience in and of itself), I walked to Libby’s room and paid her back every cent. A stranger. A perfect stranger. The world is full of surprises.
My Rendezvous with Nemo in the Mekong Delta
Presentation for food is always key. Garnish? Tantalizing sauces in little design? Allow me to introduce to you the most hideous food I’ve ever eaten. Oh, there was garnish. There was even greenery shoved into his fins. Yet there was nothing you could do to make him look aesthetically appealing by any means. I shall name him Nemo, after no one in particular. But first, let me explain. One of the things I really wanted to make a point to do was visit the Mekong Delta. It is a floating market two hours South of HCMC. On our way we stopped at the rice fields, a Buddhist temple where a ceremony was being held, and another street market. Finally, we got on a ferry to cross the river, to a more remote location. We got on another boat, this one only holding 7 or so and traveled in these small canals in forest areas. Palm trees and other hangings surrounded the canal, and civilization ceased. We came to a small area where a couple of outdoor rooms were set up, making coconut candy. We tried some and had tea nearby afterwards. We got on another boat, and traveled up the canals. This time when we got off we got on donkey/horse carts and traveled inland to see a snake and sample fruits. We had all these exotic fruits and more tea. By this point, I’m starving. We take a four passenger canoe back to the ferry, to a restaurant on the water. This is where my life crosses paths with Nemo for the first, and hopefully the last, time. He is just plopped right onto the table- fins, scales and all. The remnants of his eyes just staring ahead. Now, don’t get me wrong- by no means do fish scare me. In 8th grade we spilt into girl/boy partners to dissect fish, thinking the boys would do all the work. Think again. Brendan shoved fish guts into the air conditioner while I filleted the fish. Nemo, however, was unnatural. His scales were crumbling off his body; his mouth hanging open, and don’t forget about those eyes. I ate him. I did. But the experience was enough for one lifetime. Next time, I’d like my Nemo headless please.
Phong, my Vietnamese Artist
On my second day in Vietnam, I spent the morning at a handicapped school. The children varied in both age and disability. We separated and I colored with Phong, Tien, and Qui- older deaf children. Everyone started trickling into the courtyard, where you could slide into a giant ball pit. Little kids ran around with pens and pads of paper, trying to get your name and age. Lists of names they’ll have to keep, which I have no idea what they intend to do with. Afterwards we looked at their art, which we could buy with a donation to the school. That afternoon I went to a deaf school, where we were greeted by little kids clapping excitedly. The older girls, eleven to fourteen or so, came out in floor length yellow dresses and flower stems, and performed a spring dance for us. Then, the boys did a dance to rap. Amongst all these tween boys was an adorable little boy, around eight- all break dancing for us. After the older kids performed, we sat on the ground in small groups. The younger kids were drawn by the bubbles, liquid dripping all over them as they tried relentlessly to get every bubble perfect. The older kids immediately began asking about you, your family and what you want to do when you’re older via construction paper and colored pencils. I spent my time with a couple girls, coloring and talking, and some smaller children helping them blow bubbles. The group was contagious, excited to learn and interact with us. We left without not nearly enough time as I would have liked to go to an orphanage. The orphanage houses over 400 kids, most left at the gate in bundles by their parents. Rooms hold row after row of cribs, each with a small child laying in it, staring at the ceiling. More children lay on mattresses placed on the ground, while the volunteers fold sheets nearby. My favorite was this tag team duo. An older boy wearing a green shirt, obvious severe physical and mental disabilities, pushed another boy in a wheelchair around the courtyard. They caught my eye because despite everything, they were carefree, looking out for each other and doing their own thing. It was interesting because parents joined our trip, and looked at everything with wide eyes and acutely aware of the surroundings. This is what we’ve been immersed in for months. The extreme differences are no longer a shock to us, rather yet another thing to adapt to. Anyways, that night my friends and I went to the night market. Restaurants line the market, so the air is potent with garlic and meat. Women scream after you. Tourists, mostly British and Austrailian mosey along the streets, taking their dear sweet time. Shops with everything, except shoes anywhere larger than a size 7. On the following day, I went back to the market and walked around with Patty, ready to conquer Ben Thanh. I bought three pieces of artwork- two of Marilyn Monroe of course. Eventually Patty and I separated, and I wandered around by myself. Around dinner, I ran into Ryan, Lindsey, and Anna, and went to dinner at an inexpensive stand near the market. After dinner I helped Ryan pick some things out from his sister and eventually went off on my own again. It was the first port that I finally felt ready to spend hours at a time, just doing my own thing without being overwhelmed by everything. It was a nice change, just to be in complete control, and conquer each street, each bargain one at a time by myself
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Two Sides to Every Story, Two Sides to Every War.
A great debater understands the power of knowing each side before making their argument. Similarly, for every war, there are two sides to the story. Is it the American War? Or is it the Vietnam War? Even by name there is a different perspective to the war. When it comes down to it- we have to acknowledge what we see is heavily sculpted and purposefully planted by the media and what our government wants us to see.
200 journalists died during the war, trying to capture the realities. We had the opportunity to talk to one who is publicly acclaimed for his work. A small room had large posters hanging featuring his work. A Vietnamese women in sitting with her head in her hands as a helicopter takes off behind her. She had just lost everything. A Vietnamese women sitting with two babies in front of her in the dirt, her head cupped in her hands. Her face is absolute despair- crying and anguished. The name: burned and ruined. The next is an American G.I. my age, crawling through the brush on Hamburger Hill. His face is close and clear, the bare branches and the environment around him is blurred and unknown. He’s probably 20- not much older than myself. In fact, he’s actually very cute. He looks like someone who could have been sitting next to you in class or your friends’ older brother. Except he isn’t. His face has a maturity and knowledge you’ll never know. I’ll never know. Most of us will never experience. War. His eyes are sunken in, screaming desperation. He is clearly exhausted- his mouth is hanging open. As the photographer recalled his experience, tears filled his eyes, and he became a different person.
What was the Vietnam War? 58,000 American deaths. That would be like taking out the MV Explorer, every one of your daughters, sons, teachers, workers, staff- over 60 times. The total of Vietnamese deaths? 4.5 million. That would be well over 5,000 MV Explorer ships completely full of 900 or so of us. Think about it. Either way, it’s a tragic number. Those were your boyfriends. Your classmates. Your friends. Your high school sweethearts. Your sons. Nothing more than a bunch of college freshmen holding guns and wandering around aimlessly in Vietnam.
The War Remnants Museum is 7 buildings with collections of photos and weapons. No restraints. Everything- and I mean everything- was put out on the table for all to see. It was seeing the war through others eyes. We were viewed as terrorists who took up where the French left off. Terrorists. A word we have come to fear so heavily.
It started off easily enough. Men in masks, standing in front of planes proudly, etc. By the second room you begin to take a deep breath. A picture of a female photographer holds her face close to her camera, taking a picture. Next to it is another picture of a mangled body. Hers. As she takes her last breaths.
A man- James- is giving mouth to mouth to his friends, desperately trying to relieve him. After the picture was taken by the photographer, he stepped on a mine, killing the photographer and the two men in the photo. It was the last photo he ever took.
Story after story, death after death. Each one vividly naming names, showing faces of dead, mangled bodies, and leaving nothing to the imagination. The body of an American soldier falling from a helicopter, midair as he falls to his death. American soldiers dragging a body by the back of their tank.
The third room is when the torture begins. Now why would they see us as terrorists? Why is this room a little harder to swallow than the others? This when you introduce women and children. Innocent bystanders who suffer from the effects of war. Worst of all, it’s Americans who have done this. A woman with holes down her entire back from pellets. A child- a little boy- whose skin from his forehead, around his eyes, and his chin has been eaten away from Napalm. His eyes are little more than useless marbles, sitting in sunken in mounds of ripped apart flesh. Sure enough, all of them should have been dead and very well look it, but they are not. Left to spend the rest of their life reliving the pain.
Next are the effects from Agent Orange, used to burn through the heavy leaves of the forests in order to reveal guerilla Viet Cong. It contains one of the most powerful and dangerous poisons known to man- named by the distinct orange line on the canisters. Six to 21 million gallons was sprayed over Vietnam. Wherever it was sprayed, no life growth is possible. It will continue to stay on and in the land for 100 years. That means it continues to have its effects. Even for us- if we drink substantial amount of water or ice, or even fish- our kids could become morphed if we weren’t careful enough.
Some SAS students- not myself personally- got to go to a center for Agent Orange victims. Little kids have heads that are filled with extra water that they can’t even pick them up. They have to be drained every couple of hours. Even then the oldest to survive was only 10. Offspring continue to have deformities. Jars with babies with two heads and other various extra body parts sat on a ledge. Pictures of little kids curled up without limbs or with bones the circumference of little more than a marker lined a wall.
In the corner a large oversized picture shouts out at you. Before I tell you what it is- let me note that a small plague next to it reads a US decree to give equal treatment to women, children, elderly, and other innocent bystanders. Next to it are a dozen women, children, and babies laying on the ground, obviously trying to get away from the Americans who killed them. Two of their dresses, one of their shoes sits in a small pile in front of the picture. It was taken at the Haong Dien massacre in My Lai, on March 16, 1968, where 504 civilians were killed. 182 women. 173 kids- including 56 newborns. Equal treatment- right.
Next wall is guns. Guns. Guns.
Two helicopters are flying side by side. At first glance it’s very blurry. When you read the title though, you realize that small line midair isn’t a glitch in the blurry photograph, but a body of someone who refused to talk plunging to his death. As I’m reading this, I notice the girl next to me is making a disturbed face. Truly, utterly disturbed. This picture will never leave my memory- ever. I don’t think I have ever seen something so disturbing- and that includes what I’ve seen in Holocaust photos.
Even as I write this description, I feel disgusted. I literally want to throw up. A soldier is towards the right of the picture. He could be anyone, his face turned slightly downwards. He’s looking at his prize- which he’s holding up and studying. It’s a corpse from a grenade launcher. Except for a hand and the head, the body is by no means recognizable. The soldier is holding it by what appears to be an arm, with a small hand peeking out. No shoulder, no chest, nothing else but droopy cloth and the hand itself. Then the hand is attached to what appears to be more rags of cloth. Some flesh, god only knows from where, is connected to some of the pile that is this boy. A boy. A male. His eyes are open, staring into the distance. Across from his gaze, organs hang. The fact that his face is perfectly in tact, every feature distinct as though he were posing for a picture, right there connected to something that couldn’t even be identified.
It doesn’t end there, but I think I will. Four other rooms explain torture, show torture devices, and pictures of people before their deaths. However, I don’t think I need to say anything else, except that everything’s subjective. There are two sides to every story.
Now- relations are cordial. Clinton reenacted trade in 1994, and we’ve been making progress since. People welcome us and ask us many questions about our home and our lives. It’s crazy to think that on the land that our professors and older relatives last saw in battle, we wandered about shopping, eating, and enjoying ourselves. It makes one wonder- in 40 years will there ever be a time where we will visit Iraq? Interesting perspective- huh? Clearly unlikely, but it definitely makes an interesting twist.
200 journalists died during the war, trying to capture the realities. We had the opportunity to talk to one who is publicly acclaimed for his work. A small room had large posters hanging featuring his work. A Vietnamese women in sitting with her head in her hands as a helicopter takes off behind her. She had just lost everything. A Vietnamese women sitting with two babies in front of her in the dirt, her head cupped in her hands. Her face is absolute despair- crying and anguished. The name: burned and ruined. The next is an American G.I. my age, crawling through the brush on Hamburger Hill. His face is close and clear, the bare branches and the environment around him is blurred and unknown. He’s probably 20- not much older than myself. In fact, he’s actually very cute. He looks like someone who could have been sitting next to you in class or your friends’ older brother. Except he isn’t. His face has a maturity and knowledge you’ll never know. I’ll never know. Most of us will never experience. War. His eyes are sunken in, screaming desperation. He is clearly exhausted- his mouth is hanging open. As the photographer recalled his experience, tears filled his eyes, and he became a different person.
What was the Vietnam War? 58,000 American deaths. That would be like taking out the MV Explorer, every one of your daughters, sons, teachers, workers, staff- over 60 times. The total of Vietnamese deaths? 4.5 million. That would be well over 5,000 MV Explorer ships completely full of 900 or so of us. Think about it. Either way, it’s a tragic number. Those were your boyfriends. Your classmates. Your friends. Your high school sweethearts. Your sons. Nothing more than a bunch of college freshmen holding guns and wandering around aimlessly in Vietnam.
The War Remnants Museum is 7 buildings with collections of photos and weapons. No restraints. Everything- and I mean everything- was put out on the table for all to see. It was seeing the war through others eyes. We were viewed as terrorists who took up where the French left off. Terrorists. A word we have come to fear so heavily.
It started off easily enough. Men in masks, standing in front of planes proudly, etc. By the second room you begin to take a deep breath. A picture of a female photographer holds her face close to her camera, taking a picture. Next to it is another picture of a mangled body. Hers. As she takes her last breaths.
A man- James- is giving mouth to mouth to his friends, desperately trying to relieve him. After the picture was taken by the photographer, he stepped on a mine, killing the photographer and the two men in the photo. It was the last photo he ever took.
Story after story, death after death. Each one vividly naming names, showing faces of dead, mangled bodies, and leaving nothing to the imagination. The body of an American soldier falling from a helicopter, midair as he falls to his death. American soldiers dragging a body by the back of their tank.
The third room is when the torture begins. Now why would they see us as terrorists? Why is this room a little harder to swallow than the others? This when you introduce women and children. Innocent bystanders who suffer from the effects of war. Worst of all, it’s Americans who have done this. A woman with holes down her entire back from pellets. A child- a little boy- whose skin from his forehead, around his eyes, and his chin has been eaten away from Napalm. His eyes are little more than useless marbles, sitting in sunken in mounds of ripped apart flesh. Sure enough, all of them should have been dead and very well look it, but they are not. Left to spend the rest of their life reliving the pain.
Next are the effects from Agent Orange, used to burn through the heavy leaves of the forests in order to reveal guerilla Viet Cong. It contains one of the most powerful and dangerous poisons known to man- named by the distinct orange line on the canisters. Six to 21 million gallons was sprayed over Vietnam. Wherever it was sprayed, no life growth is possible. It will continue to stay on and in the land for 100 years. That means it continues to have its effects. Even for us- if we drink substantial amount of water or ice, or even fish- our kids could become morphed if we weren’t careful enough.
Some SAS students- not myself personally- got to go to a center for Agent Orange victims. Little kids have heads that are filled with extra water that they can’t even pick them up. They have to be drained every couple of hours. Even then the oldest to survive was only 10. Offspring continue to have deformities. Jars with babies with two heads and other various extra body parts sat on a ledge. Pictures of little kids curled up without limbs or with bones the circumference of little more than a marker lined a wall.
In the corner a large oversized picture shouts out at you. Before I tell you what it is- let me note that a small plague next to it reads a US decree to give equal treatment to women, children, elderly, and other innocent bystanders. Next to it are a dozen women, children, and babies laying on the ground, obviously trying to get away from the Americans who killed them. Two of their dresses, one of their shoes sits in a small pile in front of the picture. It was taken at the Haong Dien massacre in My Lai, on March 16, 1968, where 504 civilians were killed. 182 women. 173 kids- including 56 newborns. Equal treatment- right.
Next wall is guns. Guns. Guns.
Two helicopters are flying side by side. At first glance it’s very blurry. When you read the title though, you realize that small line midair isn’t a glitch in the blurry photograph, but a body of someone who refused to talk plunging to his death. As I’m reading this, I notice the girl next to me is making a disturbed face. Truly, utterly disturbed. This picture will never leave my memory- ever. I don’t think I have ever seen something so disturbing- and that includes what I’ve seen in Holocaust photos.
Even as I write this description, I feel disgusted. I literally want to throw up. A soldier is towards the right of the picture. He could be anyone, his face turned slightly downwards. He’s looking at his prize- which he’s holding up and studying. It’s a corpse from a grenade launcher. Except for a hand and the head, the body is by no means recognizable. The soldier is holding it by what appears to be an arm, with a small hand peeking out. No shoulder, no chest, nothing else but droopy cloth and the hand itself. Then the hand is attached to what appears to be more rags of cloth. Some flesh, god only knows from where, is connected to some of the pile that is this boy. A boy. A male. His eyes are open, staring into the distance. Across from his gaze, organs hang. The fact that his face is perfectly in tact, every feature distinct as though he were posing for a picture, right there connected to something that couldn’t even be identified.
It doesn’t end there, but I think I will. Four other rooms explain torture, show torture devices, and pictures of people before their deaths. However, I don’t think I need to say anything else, except that everything’s subjective. There are two sides to every story.
Now- relations are cordial. Clinton reenacted trade in 1994, and we’ve been making progress since. People welcome us and ask us many questions about our home and our lives. It’s crazy to think that on the land that our professors and older relatives last saw in battle, we wandered about shopping, eating, and enjoying ourselves. It makes one wonder- in 40 years will there ever be a time where we will visit Iraq? Interesting perspective- huh? Clearly unlikely, but it definitely makes an interesting twist.
Vietnam- A Giant Dollar Store?
Times Lost: Ha. Ha. Ha.
Items Lost: Well, my stack of one dollar bills is officially depleted but that’s my fault.
Near Death Moments: Every time I crossed the street.
Going to Vietnam, I didn’t know what to expect. I had a very naïve notion that it would be run down markets and small communities, with endless amounts of green landscape as a backdrop. Hardly. So what is Vietnam exactly?
Vietnam- or more accurately, Saigon/HCMC- is:
- Motorbikes. Everywhere. The main mode of transportation for 4 million people. Families of 4 are piled one after the other. Babies, new born babies, will be standing on the mom’s lap. Little kids- sans helmets- will be dangling on the back or standing precariously on the front.
- Chaotic Traffic. There is an anything goes mentality. Every now and then a motorbike or two will go right by you on the sidewalk. Hoards of people will be going two directions at once, weaving in and out of one another. See: Crossing the Street 101.
- A Dose of City. The last thing I expected was large booming buildings, 5 Star hotels, pristine shopping malls, large parks with fountains and statues, etc. Granted there are parts that are more modern than others- but it was a phenomenal city nonetheless.
- How can I not say it- Shopping! You have your choice between high end stores near the strip of hotels, handfuls of malls with upscale stores, and then endless, endless amounts of hole in the wall shops, people selling things on the streets, and markets with anything you can dream up. Purses, fleece jackets, backpacks, jewelry, tea sets, perfume, even make-up.
- Ben Thanh Market. Going along with shopping hand in hand, you can’t go to HCMC without paying the market a visit. Hundreds of stalls crammed in side by side with narrow walkways, countless tourists- with a fair share of them being rude, loud, and obnoxious, yells of “Madame! Madame, please look Madame”, smells of fruits, flowers, dried fish, and seasonings permeate the air, and anything you could possibly want.
- Inexpensive food. Near the market is a row of restaurants outside during the night market- across from Ben Thanh. Everything is outside- in the open. They clean the dishes and make the food right there. You could get a drink or two (beer, wine, or pop), noodles, and a plate with several kinds of meat for a whopping total of 3 dollars. Even in the nice restaurants towards the tourist area will only eat away at 10 dollars for 2 drinks, one appetizer, and an entrée. At one place you could get a liter of beer for 3 dollars. A liter. Ridiculous prices.
- The People. I’ll finish on that note. The children here are absolutely adorable. At the service visits they were so interested in you- your name, family, and what you wanted to be. People would come up to you and ask where you were from in stores and markets. One man thought I was from Canada, when I said no, he assumed Ireland. I know there were some instances that people were robbed or mugged- but dare I say it- I felt very safe here. I spent several hours on end walking by myself, as did others, but did not feel unsafe at any point in time. Then again, that’s subjective.
Items Lost: Well, my stack of one dollar bills is officially depleted but that’s my fault.
Near Death Moments: Every time I crossed the street.
Going to Vietnam, I didn’t know what to expect. I had a very naïve notion that it would be run down markets and small communities, with endless amounts of green landscape as a backdrop. Hardly. So what is Vietnam exactly?
Vietnam- or more accurately, Saigon/HCMC- is:
- Motorbikes. Everywhere. The main mode of transportation for 4 million people. Families of 4 are piled one after the other. Babies, new born babies, will be standing on the mom’s lap. Little kids- sans helmets- will be dangling on the back or standing precariously on the front.
- Chaotic Traffic. There is an anything goes mentality. Every now and then a motorbike or two will go right by you on the sidewalk. Hoards of people will be going two directions at once, weaving in and out of one another. See: Crossing the Street 101.
- A Dose of City. The last thing I expected was large booming buildings, 5 Star hotels, pristine shopping malls, large parks with fountains and statues, etc. Granted there are parts that are more modern than others- but it was a phenomenal city nonetheless.
- How can I not say it- Shopping! You have your choice between high end stores near the strip of hotels, handfuls of malls with upscale stores, and then endless, endless amounts of hole in the wall shops, people selling things on the streets, and markets with anything you can dream up. Purses, fleece jackets, backpacks, jewelry, tea sets, perfume, even make-up.
- Ben Thanh Market. Going along with shopping hand in hand, you can’t go to HCMC without paying the market a visit. Hundreds of stalls crammed in side by side with narrow walkways, countless tourists- with a fair share of them being rude, loud, and obnoxious, yells of “Madame! Madame, please look Madame”, smells of fruits, flowers, dried fish, and seasonings permeate the air, and anything you could possibly want.
- Inexpensive food. Near the market is a row of restaurants outside during the night market- across from Ben Thanh. Everything is outside- in the open. They clean the dishes and make the food right there. You could get a drink or two (beer, wine, or pop), noodles, and a plate with several kinds of meat for a whopping total of 3 dollars. Even in the nice restaurants towards the tourist area will only eat away at 10 dollars for 2 drinks, one appetizer, and an entrée. At one place you could get a liter of beer for 3 dollars. A liter. Ridiculous prices.
- The People. I’ll finish on that note. The children here are absolutely adorable. At the service visits they were so interested in you- your name, family, and what you wanted to be. People would come up to you and ask where you were from in stores and markets. One man thought I was from Canada, when I said no, he assumed Ireland. I know there were some instances that people were robbed or mugged- but dare I say it- I felt very safe here. I spent several hours on end walking by myself, as did others, but did not feel unsafe at any point in time. Then again, that’s subjective.
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