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China is amazing. For starters, there is the sheer scale – such a large country and so many people. There is an apparent “can do” attitude of most people that is manifested in the constant development  and bustle going on.

I was in Beijing for a few days last week, and, in the beautiful autumn weather, it was lovely. On a macro scale, the urban areas are covered in grey concrete, but, at human level, there is a vibrant activity that is reminiscent of village life. My hotel was across the street from the school in which I was delivering a workshop. It was in a rented part of a Chinese government school, in one of the innumerable residential areas in Chinese cities. They are all almost self-contained, with a park, shops and schools to service the locals (although beauty parlors seem to be in oversupply).

The parks are great, even if they tend to be covered in gravel. Each morning and afternoon, people are out exercising, particularly the elderly. Activities range from Tai Chi, to walking, jogging and using the free exercise equipment. In the afternoons, the babies are trotted out by their grannies, and induced to publicly urinate to a whistle. (I wonder if whistling around Chinese adults could cause a Pavlov-type response?)

Chinese markets are great, but are not for the faint-hearted. My hosts revealed that they were not very keen about bargaining. At the Yashow clothing market, the stall holders seemed quite aggressive, but it is actually a game. One young man berated me for playing it too quickly after I ended up paying 10% of the initial price. (And I was still probably ripped off.) Some people cannot handle the physical contact, but seems more for effect than anything, and a polite “Please don’t touch me” suffices. The amount and variety of goods is almost overwhelming, and, although there is a lot of rubbish, there is a lot of quality merchandise at low prices.

I wasn’t prepared for the quality of the restaurants. We had dinner in the San Li Tun area, and there were dozens of excellent places to eat, many of them reached via walkways between modern multi-storey towers. The locals tended to be affluent, attractive young men and women, very confident and cosmopolitan. The restaurants, by Asian standards, are not cheap, so their is obviously a very affluent middle class emerging.

This trip, I had little time to sight see, but I hope to be back.

Yesterday was an opportunity to reflect on a few things. Number one was, needless to say, that there are so many clever people out there, and so many of them who have made a difference to the lives of others. The next was that there are many people who are prepared to celebrate the achievements of these folk, and, hopefully, be inspired to take on something themselves. The third was to reinforce the maxim of “Don’t judge a book by its cover” – there are a few people who have the appearance of not being entirely engaged with reality, but, once they get going on what they are passionate about, they transform into amazing human beings.

The last is that being there wins hands down over watching or hearing about something – experiencing is the best teacher. We’ll get to watch the videos of the TEDxUbud talks, but seeing them happen was wonderful. The music at the end was a brilliant way to end. Gifted musicians who are also able to engage with their audience are beyond compare.

Many of the audience members were just as amazing as the speakers. We didn’t get to mingle as much as we would have wanted, but almost everyone we spoke with was doing, or had done, something wonderful. We will have to lift our game.

I actually had never considered even visiting the Middle East, for various reasons, but I’m glad that I’m here now. There is some amazing stuff, mainly because the sand is rapidly becoming covered with concrete and bitumen, and the odd bit of grass. Some of the buildings are amazing – even more “iconic” than in Beijing, if that’s possible. The amount of construction going on is phenomenal. It seems like Dubai will double in size in the next year or so.

It’s interesting seeing how people go about things here. It is far more liberal in a lot of things than I expected – people wander around in the full range of clothing, from head-to-toe black robes to skimpy shorts and a singlet. I was amused to see a bloke in white robes in a bar the other night with two women, neither of whom, I assumed, were his wife, with a cigarette in one hand (the bloke) and a large glass of red in the other. Still, that isn’t a common sight. The overwhelming majority of men dressed in that way act with the dignity one would expect.

I made the tourist mistake on the bus – I got off the train and ran to the connecting bus to the Mall of Dubai. It was packed at the rear, so I followed a young women in through the front door. It was only after the bus pulled away that I realised that I was in the women-only section. I edged my way back to the mixed section.

I’ve done one visit to a school, which was interesting. It’s impressive that the Emirates have a vision for the future, and a major part is about quality education. The process for evaluating schools seems quite good, and there seem to be some very capable Emiratis in charge, driving the process.

Not being able to purchase alcohol in shops isn’t a problem for me. All the bars, except one, that I know of, are in hotels, so a glass of beer or wine is fairly expensive. However, not much more so than in Jakarta. The quality of food in the hotels and restaurants is very good, so I have to watch what I eat and force myself to go to the gym regularly.

It isn’t as easy as I thought to get about, although taxis are reasonably priced, and there is a new train service. Nothing seems to be “direct” and it is difficult to walk places. My “adventure” today was to head out to “the creek” on the train. However, the train stopped two stations short, because they haven’t been built! I then waited for a while for a bus, which took us on a tour of medical facilities before dropping us at the gate of The Creek park. It wasn’t what I expected, and catered more for families who want somewhere for their children to run around.

I got a taxi to take me to the Gold Souk, which was overwhelming – is there that much gold in the world? Leaving, I spotted a sign pointing to a nearby train station. In that part of town the trains are underground, instead of being elevated, as in my part of town. I discovered that, when I changed lines on the way to the creek, if I had have gone three stations in the other direction, it would have been more to my taste.
Next time ….

With 7% of 2012 already gone, it seems a lot more promising than 2011 – it would have to be. Apart from the fact that money is yet to start rolling in, being an “educational entrepreneur” is excellent, although interacting with students is still the best thing one can do in education. There are already quite a few irons in the fire, and, hopefully, some of them will bear fruit. (Apologies for the appalling mix of metaphors.)

Going back to Australia at Christmas reminds me that it really is the “Lucky Country”.  It’s clean, most people are courteous and law-abiding and we have are able to maintain a high standard of living. Still, it concerns me that we need to, collectively, take a better look at what is happening outside our shores and work a fair bit smarter, because luck is not enough in today’s world. At the moment, for most Australians, life seems pretty good.
 

Christmas is family time, and, when the weather is fine, Melbourne is a lovely place to spend it. We were able to walk along a bayside beach, and paddle or swim. The cafes are the equal of anywhere, and wine is cheap, still, and very, very good.

Of course, most families tend to eat and drink far too much during the holiday season, and it’s been hard work  to get the excess weight off – there is still a way to go. In our family, we usually play board games, although this year, X-Box Kinect has taken over – you certainly get sore arms from some of the games.

Because of different family commitments, Helen and I do not meet until Boxing Day, This year, like most of the past 10 years, it was in Sydney. I quite like it, but it’s not Melbourne – I suppose it is what you are familiar with for most people.

Back in Jakarta, we had to move house, then begin building a business. Helen has quite a few workshops for the IBO, and I have my first one in March. Before then, I hope to do a few weeks’ work in Dubai, and make some more contacts. We’ll give ourselves six months to a year to see how we go. We are very optimistic at the moment.

Last night, I was asked if reading the Jakarta Post made me angry. The reply was “Of course”, with regard to the stories of religious violence, corruption and ineffective government. However, it is not much worse than reading about the Australian government detaining a 9-year-old orphan on Christmas Island, or wasting billions of dollars on old technology for the national broadband network. That’s what newspapers and TV news do – dwell on the bad stuff. We need to know about it, but there are some good stories too. The Jakarta Post features a couple of stories each week about modern Indonesian “heroes”, people who have overcome adversity and/or devoted their lives to making a difference. Good media outlets also do this.

Zooming in to the smaller picture, Helen has been in touch with our former housekeeper, in Bali. She has recently lost her husband, after a long (and expensive) illness and has two boys in high school. Everything went to try to keep her husband alive. As we say in Australia, she is doing it tough. She has a job – she is paid ~AU$85 a month, of which ~$25 goes in transport, to work from 8am until 3pm, five days a week, to cook, clean, wash and iron for two expatriate women. Now, I don’t know these people, but we were paying more than the going rate of $110 per month, ten years ago, when our housekeeper lived with us (so, therefore, no transport and food was included). Even that was a pittance, but, then, it was a liveable wage, and, her husband had a full time job. She is leaving her current job to set up a food stall, and her employers will find someone else who will work at that rate. (And, before we rail against expatriates, they often pay more for domestic help than the locals.)

Which leads me to luck. As is our custom, we spent our Christmas sojourn in The Lucky Country, and for the very great majority of Australians, it is exactly that. For a start, we have access to a very good education system. This was brought home to me at my daughter’s graduation. Listening to the list of doctoral theses made it abundantly clear how many brilliant young people there are in Australia, and the world.

Maybe they don’t all get their first choice of job, but that doesn’t stop them being committed, knowledgeable young people. In Australia, there are financial safety nets for most people who, for myriad reasons, don’t get paid work. Life is tough for some of them, but is not even close to the lives of people like our former housekeeper. She still has support from others, and has choices. Like millions of people throughout the developing world, she can turn her hand to a small business that would be impossible in Australia, because of health laws and other bureaucratic requirements. At least a billion people do not have that choice.

So, being born in Australia gave me a lot of choices. I may not have always made the best ones, but they have all brought me to now. I have food on the table, money in the bank (well, it used to be a good thing), reasonably good health and a wonderful wife and children. Everything else is a bonus, and there are plenty of them.

I count the opportunity to be an educator as something to be very grateful for. Professionally, I’ve had plenty of lows, plenty of highs, but, also, two outstanding pieces of luck. The first was way back in the last century, when a colleague suggested that I apply for the new Langwarrin Secondary College. I spent one of the best years of my long career with a dozen or so dedicated educators, and learned so much about how schools should work and how kids learn. The second was getting a job at Bali International School. The school was far from being the lucky aspect, but the fact that I became exposed to the International Baccalaureate was. In the Middle Years Programme, a lot of what I had learned at Langwarrin was actually being used in schools. (And, the Primary Years Programme was doing it even better, but Helen and I didn’t know that at the time.)

 

Regardless, because we have been teaching in IB World Schools, internationally, we have been privileged to work with, and are currently working with, motivated students, professional teachers and supportive parents. IB World Schools do not have a monopoly on this, and not all IB schools are excellent, but it certainly is a great indicator that someone in the school really cares about the education of the students, and knows a bit about how to get the best out of them.

So, for anyone reading this, because we are affluent enough to have access to a computer and the internet, we are luckier than at least two billion people on the planet. Like many folk, I subscribe to the view that we make our own luck, but we have to be born into a situation where we have that opportunity. I try to keep things in perspective by remembering that many, many people will never get that opportunity, and that I have the ability, and choice, to assist some who need it.

I am normally a “glass half empty” kind of person, which actually means that it is a pleasant surprise when things go to plan. So, the weekend, and, in particular Saturday, was very enjoyable.

Yesterday, we did Helen’s “3 achievable things in Indonesia per day” before 11 am. We played golf, replenished our dwindling “supplies” at a Duty Free shop and organised a plane ticket to Bali. Everything after that was the icing on the cake. We had lunch and a shop around at Senayan City. I returned home by bajaj and chilled out with the end of Galactica season 2. (Now have to purchase the next series from iTunes because the shops don’t have it here.)

In the evening we hit the American Club, nearby, for the Jakarta Players’ production of Veronica’s room. It was really well done, though you can pick where the story is heading fairly early on. The Club is, like anything to do with the U. S. of A ., in a foreign country nowadays, a fortress. It was quite nice, and we bought the cheapest glasses of wine, so far, in Jakarta.

On the way home, we stopped in at Eastern Promise to hear the band, which is very good. The singer is excellent, and they do pretty good material. (Although, with any of Bon Jovi’s three hits, I have to wait for the chorus to see which one it is.) We left by 11pm, just as the working girls began to fill the place.

Today has been pretty cruisy. We decided to forgo the 9am RPM class in favour of coffee and biscuits, at home. The four of us inspected the front garden to survey Helen’s (and Ali’s) handiwork. I finally made the time to correspond with folk to whom I used to regularly write – “regular”, lately, seems to be about every six months, if that. I’m trying to work out to where my life is disappearing. (Note, also, that I’ve employed Winston Churchill’s maxim that “a preposition is something that you never end a sentence with”.)

 

I had the rare luxury of an after-lunch snooze, and we went for a stroll up the street where I bought the new runners that I’ve been meaning to get for months. Sunday is the day to walk or ride around Kemang. I noticed that the young, upwardly mobile set has taken to late lunches en masse at Warung Pasta. The 7-Eleven on the corner of our street has also become “the” place to go – the tables and chairs outside, and the small car park are always packed with young people.  It has even become a bit of a night spot.

The start to our adventure was very smooth. There were the occasional traffic stoppages en route to the airport, but we were there with an hour to spare. Check in was blissfully easy and we paid Rp50,000 each (~Au$6) to go into a reasonable lounge. 

Then, of course, the plane was more than an hour late in leaving. We arrived at the Kuala Lumpur Low Cost Carrier Terminal towards midnight. The expensive (by Asian standards) taxi took us to the same monument to Besser bricks which we had previously patronized. It was a bit cleaner than we remembered and we had a good 5 hours of sleep. 

Next morning, we did the kiosk check in and the helpful attendant directed us to the baggage drop counter. Wrong one, and, we waited behind one of those particular folk who somehow make it to the end of the process only to have an anomaly. It was plain sailing after that. There are some duty-free shops at the LCCT now and I lashed out and bought a good Canon digital SLR. It is easy to use but will take a lot of practice to use to it’s full potential (like most technology, I suppose).

It felt good to be back in China – Chengdu has about half the population of Australia, and is very modern. The subway system isn’t quite finished, so the roads are disrupted a bit. Again, we were struck by how well-dressed and confident most urban people are. We changed money to pay the Tibet tour people, then wandered around near our hotel to get some last-minute necessities. 

Helen had been corresponding with Taschi from the tour company, so it was a bit if a surprise when he turned up with our permits to collect his money. He seemed nice, and answered a few questions we had. We booked a private tour so that we would have some flexibility. 

The Civil Aviation Hotel was a typical Chinese hotel, with rock-hard mattresses, and, in the bathroom, in addition to the usual hotel toiletries there were changes of underwear and several different packets of condoms. Some guests must really have a good time. 

We took a taxi to an entertainment section of town. In the taxi, we realised that we had committed the cardinal sin in China – we had forgotten to get the hotel card! We were looking for a particular bar which was listed in the well-known travel guide. We eventually found a dodgy-looking place and the proprietress informed us that the place we sought had ceased to exist 5 years previously. Our copy of the travel guide isn’t recent. 

On our return, it took us two taxi trips and some walking, in the drizzle, before we finally  located the hotel. 

Breakfast was entirely local fare. I can’t remember previously staying in a hotel that didn’t serve coffee or tea – we had a choice of hot lemon juice, milk or soy milk. We had coffee and a lamington at Starbucks. 

The taxi driver who took us to the airport refused, initially, to use the meter, then gave us a “magical mystery tour”. Luckily, the rare rip offs by Chinese taxi drivers usually only cost an extra two or three dollars. 

We got a thorough but courteous going over before being allowed to the departure gates. Chengdu airport is modern, clean and, as yet, under-utilized. 

The flight to Lhasa was good. There was a camera at the nose of the plane, so the TV screen showed a view similar to that of the pilots during takeoff and landing. 

After the 50km trop from the airport, our Landcruiser turned off the main drag down some alleyways and deposited us in front of a yak meat shop. The Khandro Hotel, opposite, was gaudily done out in Tibet style. The staff were friendly and helpful although none seemed to speak English. 

Two left turns from the hotel’s door (a Tibetan hanging) had us at the Barkhor. Nearly everyone was  doing the clockwise circuit and many were spinning their prayer wheels clockwise. The route was lined with stalls selling all sorts of colourful souvenirs. The smell of rancid yak butter pervaded almost everywhere.  We found a first-floor restaurant and watched the continuous procession while we sampled some tasty eggplant pancakes and the local beer. 

We had obviously overdone things a bit because we both had the symptoms of altitude sickness – headaches and fatigue. We went to bed fairly early and tossed and turned. A painkiller each at about midnight fixed the headaches. 

Breakfast consisted of warmed bread and a greasy fried egg with orange cordial and a choice of tea or instant coffee. We were well enough to eat most of it. It was punctuated with the sound of China – someone hoiking their insides out. 

Our guide, Kalsan, met us in the foyer and we walked around to the 1300-year-old Jokhang Temple, in the centre of the Barkhor. It was packed, mainly with pilgrims and Chinese tourists. We walked around the two levels and up to the roof. We only caught glimpse of the gold Buddha – it was in one of the numerous alcoves, and one of the monks tending it kept standing in front of it. The statues and decorations were amazing, although it seems that spirit levels and plumb lines didn’t get a lot of use in ancient Tibet. 

Judging by the look of the pilgrims, life is still pretty tough outside Lhasa. “Weatherbeaten” is clearly the adjective to use, and most folk were dressed much more poorly than the Chinese. People were either very dark, or the climate has given them the appearance of having had a very bad, permanent facial. 

Religion is obviously a major aspect of Tibetan life. Pilgrims prostrate themselves everywhere and anywhere in a yoga-like ritual. Apparently, 500 prostrations is the acceptable minimum. In the temples, each chamber has, as well as at least three Buddhas, vats of candles fuelled by yak butter. The pilgrims elbow each other out of the way to top up the candles and a monk ladles it around for optimum burning. 

There is very noticeable military presence in the old city. Kalsan told us not to take photos of the soldiers. They were always on the alert for some sign of trouble. 

We went to the Potala palace, after a lunch of biscuits and water. It was amazing. Most of it was built in the 17th century but there were a couple of the original 7th century rooms in the top section. There were gilded Buddhas everywhere and all the previous Dalai Lamas have gold-leafed, bejewelled burial stupas. There is an enormous library of scrolls – nowadays the monks read from photocopies. 

It was pretty heavy going climbing to the top, which meant that it was nowhere near as crowded as Jokhang temple. Having been the home of the Dalai Lama, we were surprised that it needed a good clean. In fact, from all of our observations in Tibet, cleanliness is definitely not next to Buddha-ness. 

We went souvenir shopping in the afternoon and picked up a few trinkets.  We had a drink at a nice cafe, where the wi-fi didn’t work then dinner a nice-looking place in Beijing Lu. Helen’s momo’s took a while and were nice but my nasi goreng was a poor choice. 

Back at the Khandro Hotel, Helen was feeling unwell. We were in bed by 8.30pm, and then the Chinese tour group arrived. They had rooms each side of ours and stood at each end of the landing yelling at each other. When I went out and abused them they quietened for a while, but it was after 11pm before they ended up in their own rooms. It didn’t matter that much to me because my nasi goreng had been well and truly laced with MSG, so I tossed and turned most of the night. 

We forewent the eggs at breakfast the next morning (which Helen suggested would be a common request) and augmented the warmed, sweet bread with bananas and honey we had purchased the previous day. Then, we headed off to Drepung monastery, a short way out of town. It was really interesting, with plenty of Buddhas. We couldn’t, however, imagine that, in the past, 10,000 monks crowded into the assembly hall. 

 

Back in town, we found a reasonable cafe for lunch, then bought some jackets for the Everest base camp. Two shifty-looking blokes crowded into the shop and I realised that a pocket on my backpack was open. They were saved from arrest only by the fact that nothing was missing (too tight to pull anything out) and I was only 99.99% sure one of them had done it. They left very quickly when I saw the open pocket. 

Next stop was the Sera monastery, where the “highlight” is the debating session by the monks. (I would have thought that, after more than 1,000 tears of Tibetan Buddhism, there was nothing much left to debate.) Just before we got there, Kalsan received a phone call to tell her that “the monks were out at a picnic” and that the monastery was closed. 

We returned to town and went to the cafe in which we had a drink the previous day to see if my missing clip-on sunglasses were there. (They were.) Helen headed off to shop and I wended my way back to the hotel. 

We had a lovely dinner at the Dunya restaurant in Beijing Lu. However, we shouldn’t have had the two glasses of wine with it and the two scotches in our hotel room – the altitude sickness returned. (The other thing we noticed was that shampoo and other things that had been manufactured near sea level came spurting out of the tube as soon as they were opened. Helen’s soy bars popped as they were opened.)

The Chinese tourists were even worse the second night. Despite us miming, twice, that we wanted to sleep, they didn’t go into their rooms until after 10:30pm. Then, from about 11pm, a little girl ran around the landings playing loudly. I went out at 11:30pm and mimed for her and the young woman with her to disappear, which they did. We had a public bathroom through the wall from our bed and it seemed like the tourists had a roster to continuously use it until nearly 2am. 

I wasn’t 100% and got worse as the day progressed. Even so, it was a wonderful experience. We left Lhasa and headed for the “hills”. The road took us winding up over the mountains to the pass, 5000m above sea level. I sat in the front and our driver, Tenzin, was cornering a bit too fast for my liking. We came around one bend and encountered an accident involving a car, a bus and a truck. It seemed that, luckily, no-one had been hurt. 

For more than 100km out of Lhasa we had to stop at regular speed checkpoints. Because everyone speeds, we had to stop before each checkpoint and wait until the “correct” time. 

Before the pass, we stopped at Yamdrok lake, which is sacred. At least a hundred other tourists were there, taking photos, as well. We skirted the lake for ages them climbed up to the pass. The glaciers were amazing but obviously receding. 

I was feeling terrible and dozed a lot of the way to cope. We stopped in a town for lunch. Helen and I just ambles around – neither of us could face food. The town was composed of dirty grey boxes for buildings and was devoid of vegetation. Everything and everyone was filthy. 

We drove through plains of barley that stretched to the mountains, dotted with little hamlets of grey boxes. The next town, Gyantse, was even more depressing than the previous one. It is home to Pelchor monastery next to Kumpa stupa, with Tibet’s biggest stupa. I wasn’t really up to climbing the stupa. 

From there, we forged on to Shigatse, Tibet’s 2nd biggest city. It is a hole. It is very Chinese in the building style, and filthy. We pulled into the Yak Hotel and unloaded our bags. There was no booking so we ended up at the Tenzin Hotel, which was very basic. We were both unwell and went to bed after a dinner of dry biscuits. 

We were both a lot better in the morning and even had some Tibetan unleavened bread for breakfast. Still, we were not anything like well. Kalsan and Tenzin dropped us off at the Tashilumo monastery while they went to get our Mt. Everest permits. It was quite spectacular and the large Buddha was very impressive. 

The Landcruiser headed up towards the Everest base camp. We went through basins planted with yellow rape seed and then barley. We headed up and stopped at the 5200m Gyalpo-la pass, from which we could see the snow-capped peaks. It even snowed lightly while we were there. The terrain got very rocky and we passed herds of cattle, goats, sheep and yaks grazing on the sparse vegetation.

We arrived at the town of Shegar to spend the night at the Tingri Qomolangma Resort. The hot water took 10 minutes to arrive through the pipes and the electricity was on from 7pm until midnight (and the generator was right near our room). It was quite hot when we arrived, but cooled quickly as the sun began to set, at about 8pm. We both ended up with bad headaches and laid down for a while. We decided to risk some vegetarian momos at the Tashi restaurant in front of the hotel. 

Both of us still had headaches when we went to bed. We had painkillers but Helen had to have another one. 

In the morning we were a bit better. We had some warmed bread with nondescript jam before boarding the Landcruiser for Everest. The 100+km road was terrible but the scenery was incredible. A lot of the terrain was strewn with rocks but, every now and then, a hamlet with barley fields appeared. Along the way we collected a second tour guide and dropped her off 5km further on. 

There was a significant number of cyclists on the road. We could only admire them – it was gruelling enough by car! (The husband of a Dutch friend, in Guangzhou, did the Lhasa to Katmandu cycle with some mates.)

It was getting a bit “close” in the front with Tenzin. To be fair to the Tibetans, if your main water source is a glacial stream and your main energy source is dried animal excrement, hot water for washing clothes or bodies is a luxury. Also, most inhabited areas smell strongly of yak butter and various varieties of excrement, and in this climate people don’t sweat much. So, in normal Tibetan circumstances a bit of body odour would be barely noticeable. However, the absence of water for washing hands (particularly between putting a couple of handfuls of dried dung on the fire and eating) must have an impact on community health.

Eventually, we reached our destination, a campsite just short of the base camp. It cost extra to go to the base camp, and Kalsan said that there was nothing different to see, so we repaired to our yak-hair tent for a while. Each tent has a different name and are quite comfortable. Much to the dismay of Tenzin and his mates, I declared the Holyland Ka Mar Lha Hotel (our tent) non-smoking. 

Helen and I did a quick tour of the compound then returned to the tent. We resolved to try and control our bodies so that visits to the (predictably) disgusting toilets would be kept to a minimum. (There was nowhere at the campsite to wash, even hands, except in the stream 50m away. Even in our tent, at no time were we offered water for washing.)  Later, we went for another walk and, while I was forced to sprint to the latrines, Helen went weak in the legs and fell. She recovered but was shaken by it.  

We had instant noodles for dinner and basically just hung out in the tent. When it got too cold we prevailed upon the proprietress to light the dung stove. It smoked us out a bit but was nice and warm. 

The proprietress made up beds for us on the narrow bench seats and we burrowed in as it got dark (~8pm). There was a constant stream of Tibetans through the dark tent to the staff quarters, behind, until midnight. Then, the light came on! “What’s happening?” “She’s making up our beds”. I refrained from asking why this didn’t happen at 8pm. So, it seems that Tibetans talk from dusk until midnight, then sleep until dawn, just before 8am. 

When we went to bed, I felt terrible and Helen was okay. By dawn, the situation had reversed. My situation was helped by the fact that I had gone outside to relieve myself at midnight and had re-made my bed, with one less doona. Helen was hot and claustrophobic all night. We put most of it down to the water in the cup of tea we were given on arrival. 

In the morning, dawn over Everest  was shrouded in mist, so we headed downwards. A lot of vehicles had come in after us during the night and the traffic had almost destroyed the road down. (The road has not been sealed because of the effects on the environment – Kalsan said that the snowline has already receded dramatically in the past five years. Also, there are already too many vehicles on the road.) Helen did well not to succumb to the constant jolting. We had been very fortunate the previous day to see the Himalayas because they were now shrouded in cloud. 

We stopped at Shegar for a basic lunch then pressed on to Shigatse. The scenery was just as beautiful on the return journey. This time, we actually did have a booking at the Yak Hotel, which was quite nice. (Like many hotels throughout the world, it had been built as a really nice hotel but was gradually running down because of poor, or no, maintenance.) We walked up into town and had nice curries at the Tashi restaurant, which would have been unthinkable 24 hours before. 

We had our first proper sleep for the trip and felt good in the morning – well enough to enjoy the fried potatoes with breakfast. 

Tenzin kept us waiting for the second morning in a row, but we pulled out of Shigatse as the sun rose (~7:45am). We followed the Brahmaputra River for more than 200km to Lhasa. The first 70km was “under construction”. It was even worse than the Everest road. We then had a 175km downhill run to Lhasa  The scenery was, again, breath-taking. At one stage Tenzin stopped at stream that tumbled down the mountain side into the river. It is, apparently, blessed. Tenzin had a wash and a drink and collected a bottle full. Kalsan and I had a drink.

We stopped in a filthy little village for lunch. We risked some fried rice and fried noodles with vegetables. They were tasty but greasy. I went looking for some soft drink but couldn’t find a sealed bottle I was prepared to put near my mouth. 

We encountered the checkpoints from then on which slowed our return to Lhasa. Even so, we were back at the Khandro Hotel by 2:30pm. 

Helen wanted to do some last-minute shopping so we headed out separately. I walked a long way to find an ATM then caught a pedicab back to Beijing Lu where I bought a new backpack. We met up and had a drink at a quaint little bar just off Beijing Lu. We then had another nice meal at Dunya. 

We had a very pleasant room back at the Khandro in which we uploaded and viewed our photos before going to sleep. This time, it was French tourists who woke us, but, unlike the Chinese, they had a go at being quiet when asked. 

We were both a bit nauseous during the night, which we suspected may have had something to do with the wine at Dunya. Otherwise we were fine and met Tenzin out in the main street. We got to the airport in time to join about 20 foreigners, 5 Tibetans and several thousand Chinese at check-in. (And, many years ago, I was cursed by the God of Slow Queues.) However, we got a window seat and boarded on time. 

Despite some headaches and nausea, we thoroughly enjoyed Tibet. It is an amazing country, and to know that people have been living the same way of life for a thousand years is awe-inspiring. The Tibetans still make up the majority of the citizenry but the commerce is, clearly, Chinese-controlled. There seems to be a conscious effort to preserve and promote Tibetan culture, but it is hard to make a judgement from a brief visit. 

To borrow from “The Life of Brian”, the Chinese have brought electricity, roads, education and telecommunications to Tibet. (China Mobile has covered the whole country with solar-powered transmitters.) Public health and environmental education programs would be a logical next step.

The Chinese are not going to leave, so it appears that the only viable solution for the Tibetan people is to work with the Chinese government to gain some sort of control over what happens to their country.

Back in Chengdu, Helen indulged her favourite pastime – shopping. I wandered about in the drizzle and bought a couple of things. In the evening, we caught a taxi to Hooters – Helen pointed out the ironic globalism of going to an American chain restaurant, predicated primarily on voyeurism, housed in a bank building owned by an Indonesian, committed Christian in a huge, modern, Chinese city that few people in the Western world would have heard of. We had an enjoyable evening because the staff obviously enjoyed their jobs and the food was good. 

In the morning, we went by taxi to the Giant Panda Research Station. It was very well set out and we were there early enough to beat the crowds – actually, there were a lot of people there when we arrived but we walked while most of the others waited for the big golf carts to take them around. The pandas don’t do a lot but they are cute. We saw some young ones but no small ones. 

We were back at the hotel with plenty of time to finish packing, then we had an uneventful trip to the airport and check in. The new Air Asia Airbus 330 had us in KL not too far behind schedule. We had a slight wait for our luggage, checked in for our flight to Jakarta and Helen did some duty-free shopping. Then, the final flight was the same as the first – delayed an hour because flights in and out of Jakarta get progressively later as each day goes on.

In the end, we were only 20 minutes late into Soekarno-Hatta, and the taxi had us home just before 1am. We were tired, but had had a great holiday.

We had an excellent Java weekend. Plan A was to visit the national park, with a view to spotting Javanese rhinos and other assorted fauna. However, after our arrival, making enquiries and consulting the well-known travel guide, we realised that we needed to do an outrageously expensive day trip, by boat. Expense apart, we didn’t have a full day to do it. A trip to Anak Krakatau was in the same category.

Luckily, Plan C was excellent as well. The Tanjung Lesung Resort was beautiful, although, as experienced innumerable times previously in Indonesia, the poor maintenance was beginning to show. Our “cottage” was nice and lunch and dinner were good. (Breakfast was okay, just.)

The site is fantastic. We swam in the lovely pool and then at the beach. The sand is white and clean, although there are a lot of rocks and dead coral. The water is clean, warm and safe.

Helen, Lyndsey and I went for a drive to find a place to hike.  The road we followed led through rustic villages whose denizens looked healthy and happy. We came to a bridge that was in the process of being repaired, and Helen wasn’t keen on the Avanza tackling it so we continued on foot. Two hundred metres further on we hit the sea. The beach was, literally, paradise – White sand, gentle waves and enough rocks to make it picturesque. We walked along it, then over rock pools (full of hermit crabs scurrying about) before “bush bashing” back up to the road.  

 

We shared a bottle of wine on the beach at sunset. We could see Anak Krakatau in the distance, although it was a bit hazy. After dinner, the three of us suddenly became tired after the fresh air and the day’s exertions and crashed early.

We were up and about by 7am. We returned, by car, to a turn off that we thought would lead to a hiking track. We set out and came to a kampung at a fork in the track. The locals assured us it was “jauh” (far) in either direction. We took the right-hand track, which our informant told us would lead to the beach, 4km away.

The walk was beautiful, through coffee, banana and cocoa plantations. I was reminded of the hill tribe trek I did in Chiangmai. We seemed to be continuously heading uphill.

We came to a lovely village near the summit. Some children assured us that the best route to the beach was to the left. We stopped to talk to a woman sorting through something white and slimy. She told us it was chocolate and we walked through a plantation on the way down.

All the way down, we had two little girls and three little boys with us. We ended up with the boys and I in the lead, Lyndsey in the middle and Helen and the girls in the rear. It was very steep and slippery for us, but the boys, in particular, skipped back and forward like they were on flat land.

Eventually, we arrived at the road. We walked between four houses to a perfect little tropical beach. The plan was to hire one of the motorbikes to drop me back at the car, about 4km away.

Unfortunately, none of the layabouts around actually owned the motorbikes. We set out on foot and flagged down a passing rider who took me to the car. By the time I drove to the dodgy bridge, and crossed it, after consulting with the repair crew, Helen, Lyndsey and the children had walked within sight.

Back at the resort, we hit the beach for the last time. Lyndsey and I went to the pool, then unsuccessfully tried to procure lunch – we were too early.

From Jakarta, we took about 4.5 hours to go along the coast to Tanjung Lesung. We took the inland route back for an uneventful 3.5-hour trip. We will return.

I’ve written before that, in my humble opinion, people who don’t get out and walk a bit miss so much. Growing up in the bush (sort of) meant that we were always walking somewhere. My brothers and I would set out for the day with some sausages, bread and water and trek a few miles up the road and light a campfire (can’t do that in too many places now). The real bonus was that we could stop and look at plants and animals at our leisure.

Helen and I get to see so many interesting things by simply walking around. In every country we have visited we have got up early and walked and looked. It will be a while before we exhaust the possibilities of Kemang. Recently, on a Saturday morning I watched a couple of blokes pouring 20 litres of cooking oil into an enormous wok, ready to fry up pisang goreng (fried bananas) for passers by. Maybe many people would not find that interesting, but I marvel at the millions of stall holders around Asia who get up in the dark and  prepare food for people on their way to work, whatever that work may be – an office worker, some sort of artisan or trade person, or maybe a street sweeper. High School students seem to be very heavily represented amongst the patrons of street-side food stalls.
   
The traffic in Jalan Raya Kemang (Kemang High St.) is often pretty bad, mainly because of a couple of uncontrolled streets (by traffic lights) from which vehicles attempt to turn right and left with no apparent thought as to how everyone else is going to get through. We got caught in a gridlock on our way to the gym last week, and a couple of us tried to sort out the mess. Every time we cleared a space to move a car through a couple of “considerate” motorcycle riders would fill it, making it impossible, again, to get the traffic to move. The motorcyclists even came up the wrong side of the road, and blocked the traffic going the other way as well! Luckily, one can predict the times when this is most likely to happen.

A way for us to minimise the traffic delays is to patronise the bajaj’s that ply the street. They are very environmentally unfriendly, but most of the drivers can zip through spaces that cars cannot.

We still haven’t scratched the surface with restaurants and bars. Because it is Ramadhan, most of the “dodgy” clubs are closed. Many are not – I was watching the first half of Essendon’s pathetic effort against the ‘Pies the other night, and beer was being served in coffee mugs.

The other week I went for a long walk, and found myself in Jalan Kemang Timur ( Kemang St. East). It is a long strip of furniture shops. I had a moral dilemma as to whether Helen should know about it, but I told her in the end. It hasn’t cost us anything, yet.

I’m one of those people who gets a bit nervous when everything seems to be going really well. Is life supposed to be like that? For the past couple of months, it seems so.

Al Jabr Islamic School is a very good school, and we will really enjoy working there. We, and our new colleagues, will be finding our way for a while, but there is so much to build on. The main “plus” is that we pretty much all have the same educational values. There will be some misunderstandings, but we will all gain a lot during our time there.

Kemang is a very nice place to live. Currently, we are “camping” in our house, with the absolute bare essentials. The good news is that our stuff landed here, somewhere, today, and shouldn’t be too far away from being hauled through the front door. Machiato will be a lot happier when that happens, because she is still getting over being bundled into a small cage, tossed into a plane for four hours, doing five days in quarantine and then spending two hours with us before we left for two weeks in Australia. The positive, for her, is that, like her three predecessors, she adores Martinie – we are yet to discover Martinie’s secret.

Three hundred metres away, Jalan Raya Kemang has a lot of restaurants and shops to explore, and we are not too far, by car, from most of the Jakarta “action”. We’ve walked most of the area this week to get our bearings, and it will take a while before we can try out everything.

Australia for two weeks was great, but too short. Everyone, including the three parents were doing well, and I managed to catch up with people from a previous lifetime (almost). Melbourne’s weather was bearable, Sydney’s was quite good and we had a few lovely days on the Sunshine Coast. (The swimming costumes stayed in the suitcase though.)

So, just about everything is going to plan (except winning Lotto, but I only bought one ticket). We are definitely amongst the fortunate ones.