Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Hiking in the rugged Pyrenees from Spain to the French Mediterranean coast


the Pyrenees from the French-Spanish border
If you want a fantastic hiking trip, head to the Spanish Pyrenees and its spectacular Ordesa and Monte Perdido National Park near Broto, Spain.  The narrow mountain road winds high up a precipitous and alarmingly steep mountain valley to a parking area leading to trails for all levels of hikers.  These are very rugged valleys with huge cliffs and jagged, rocky peaks, glacial hanging valleys and gorgeous waterfalls.
deep gorge near the Spanish-Andorran border
waterfall in Ordesa and Monte Perdido National Park, Spain
Our hotel receptionist, an avid hiker himself, had suggested we take a trail to several popular waterfalls, climbing 3000 feet in less than a mile.  That sounded a little too much like rock climbing to us (which it pretty much turns out to be), so we chose a gentler route past the many beautiful waterfalls, ending high up in a glacial valley surrounded by cliffs and filled with wildflowers, rushing water and happy cattle.
With lots of stops to enjoy the beauty, photograph the falls and nibble on our lunches, we hiked 10 miles in 6 hours, climbing about 2500 feet in the process.  The trail is an old jeep road much of the way, something the Spanish really seem to like for their hiking, changing to a more typical Alpine trail in the upper valleys.  Other trails in the Park look a bit more rugged, but not difficult.
In late June, the wildflowers are gorgeous--mountainsides of bright yellow gorse (which shouldn't be there as it's nasty, thorny and invasive, but beautiful for one short month a year), mounds of wild roses, marsh marigolds and Queen Anne's Lace, bright yellow daisies and purple delphinium. Butterflies, black, yellow, white and blue varieties, were busy enjoying the multitude of wildflowers. We saw, mostly heard, quite a variety of birds, but virtually no wild mammals, not even chipmunks or rabbits.
gorse in bloom
We stayed in Broto, Spain, a pretty town of mostly basic hotels and limited restaurants.  A little farther up the valley towards the National Park is the picturesque and charming village of Torla, which we'd recommend over Broto.  It is full of hotels, good restaurants and shops.
The following day, we headed to Andorra (more about that in another blog), over mountain roads with endless hairpin turns, harrowing cliffs off to one side or the other, and damaged road surfaces. Several times, we had to wait while road crews with huge machinery scaled the loose rocks off the cliffs above the roads and moved the resulting boulders off to one side, letting us pass one lane at a time.
cattle in the high valley
Next to a hike up a mountain in the French Pyrenees, just beyond the border with Andorra (itself a mountainous enclave in the Pyrenees between Spain and France), where heavy clouds, lightening and thunder drove us down the trail just short of the summit.
our restaurant in Torla, Spain
On their eastern side, the Pyrenees form steep ridges all the way down to the Mediterranean.  They hit the sea in rugged cliffs and deep coves all around the town where we're staying, Banyuls-sur-mer. Today, we chose a coastal hike where the climbs down into and out of coves were much more difficult than the mountain hikes we've been doing.  They're steep and rocky all the way down to turquoise water and rocky beaches so typical of the Mediterranean.
The storm clouds had been building since early morning, but no rain until we started hiking out of a small cove with a couple of beach cafes.  As we climbed to the top of the cliff, there was a rush of cold wind from off the water, so we quickly backtracked and made it to shelter on one of the cafe's covered terraces before the clouds unloaded their deluge, along with spikes of lightening and rolls of thunder.  Very dramatic.
not-so-wild horses in the French Pyrenees
Tomorrow, we'll finish our hiking week with a climb to a peak just west of Banyuls.  We can hike right from our wonderful lodging, with its 3 huge suites over a winery several blocks back from the beach, providing mountain views and great comfort.
large bull curious about hikers
Banyuls yacht harbor in thunderstorm

Mediterranean coastal hike south of Banyuls-sur-mer



USA Ultimate beach champs

sunset over Royan
Royan, France hosted the 2017 World Championships of Beach Ultimate and did it beautifully. Games were on time.  Volunteers made sure everyone knew where to go and when to be there. French security was in high presence, making us feel safe in a country that has had more than its share of terrorist attacks in the last couple of years.
huddling after the US grandmasters' team beat Spain
The USA teams were dominant, as they usually are, winning 7 of the 8 divisions against teams from 39 countries.  The men's grandmasters' team, on which my son played, won all their games by significant margins.  But, other countries are building their teams and coaching and becoming more competitive each year.  This year, the Russian women beat the USA women's team in a surprising comeback.  Ultimate has gone global and developed enthusiastic players and spectators.
Ultimate as a sport has always been based on "spirit", Ultimate-ese for outstanding sportsmanship and warm relationships with other players across the sport.  At the end of each game, both teams huddle together to tell one another what each did well.  None of the public humiliation of the losers that characterizes too many sporting events.
Ultimate action on the beach
Colleges and universities have had teams for decades.  Now high schools are sponsoring Ultimate teams.  Older players, men and women, play on club teams, many with both men and women on the team (There are mixed divisions in world Ultimate play).
It is also mostly self-refereed.  Players call fouls themselves and, if there is a disagreement about the call, the 2 players involved are supposed to work it out, which they almost always do.  They shake hands and resume play.
USA grandmasters' team entering stadium for medal ceremony
Sometimes in semi-final and final games, there will be "observers", volunteers who will intervene with a call only if the players can't come to agreement.  I think the spirit of camaraderie and good sportsmanship are key to the intense commitment players and fans have to the sport.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Paper or Plastic? Valerie Gordon's essay on our recent China trip

Wild Goose Pagoda, Xi'an
“Paper or plastic?” the bagger asked. 

Paper or plastic?  My mind left the supermarket in small town Nevada and I was transported across the globe.  
learning to use brush and ink at the Wild Goose Pagoda art school

Paper or plastic?  

Paper: I had seen this simple two dimensional, utilitarian yet often overlooked staple of modern life transformed into a work of art by the dancing of a brush dipped in rich pigment.  The artists in the Wild Goose Pagoda quietly and studiously brought life and meaning to the flat, white surface while we westerns watched wide eyed.  The calligraphers were neither bored nor energized as they worked their craft.  I remember watching our young, delightful guide draw simple yet extraordinary characters with the humblest of intentions.  To me, it seemed like art, beauty and meaning were pouring out of him onto the page.  Were it I who was creating the art I would have been buzzing with pride bordering on arrogance, but his face showed peaceful resignation as though his only job was to allow the ink to flow from the brush to the page in precisely the right way.  That was the paper that I contemplated as I stood in line, my groceries being bagged.

Paper or plastic?
 
potato delicacies--a favorite food in Lijiang
Another type of paper I remember with a smile.  Little, small squares of soft thin, cloth-like paper in small stacks or organized in little boxes on dinner tables.  How pointless and useless these little kerchiefs were, but how culturally informative.  Why would anyone need a paper napkin while eating?  Who would let food fall from chopsticks on the way from the dish to one’s mouth?  Who would spill food?  Food: the very essence of life--along with water and air.  Although we never experienced a shortage of it on our travels, most people in China have known tables where dishes were empty before their bellies were full.  In such a world, who would need a piece of paper to clean up what was meant for their mouths?  And yet, those who catered to us knew of our inadequacies with their prandial tools and knew that as we dropped and dripped bits of their mouthwatering dishes we would seek paper to clean up our messes.  Ironically, they had been told in decades past that we were the ones starving at home.

vegetable vendor, Suzhou
My mind moved from what type of bag my groceries would be loaded into, to the very groceries themselves.  I had a cart filled with bright, rich fruits and vegetables and yet I knew I would do them a disservice when they reached my kitchen.  How could I pretend to create anything even slightly edible after the delicacies I had enjoyed in China?  Green beans.  Yes, I had fresh, locally grown green beans in my cart, but I might as well have had canned beans because I knew that when I blanched them and perhaps even audaciously tossed them with olive oil, they would seem like card board compared to taste of the green beans we had eaten in China.  There, the beans were firm, but soft with flavors that tempted and melted the mouth.  At the tables where we ate, the eggplant, the tofu, the beef, the chicken, all the came together as part of a bigger plan.  Not only did they regale our senses, but they informed us of the different regions and ethnic cultures within China. As we shared our food, we shared our impression of the what we were seeing and learning of what we looked forward to and what we didn’t understand.  Discussions of our cultural explorations needed a safe and quiet place where we could unfold our thoughts; our private rooms with our personal culinary roulette table provided just that.  

baby panda in Chengdu
Breakfasts, of course were feasts fit for the Empress Dowager.  Once my body had been more of a reluctant fast breaker, but in China I delighted in all the options.  Of course, I enjoyed the fruit (only peeled, Gail) but missed the paper.  Again paper.  The morning paper: such a ubiquitous daily starter in the US but in China is conspicuously lacking.  When there were newspapers, I was struck by their thinness; they reminded me of the meager (if you pronounce this with a French accent you will get the double-entandre) belted waistlines of the Chinese.  The paucity of print in the periodicals was almost as laughable as the print on some of the t-shirts proudly worn as fashion not political statements.  What did people need to know?  That the belt and road initiative would be good for Asia?  That the pandas were thriving?  That an addled American had driven erratically through Times Square?  How would this change the lives of those in China?  What could they do about anything anyway?

chef carving Peking duck at multi-stared restaurant
To ground myself, I reached into my pocket.  Perhaps to touch a dry-cleaning stub, piece of round metal money, or a horse treat.  But instead of finding something that would bring me back to the present, I touch a small plastic package with delicate paper, tissue really.  A rush of warm emotion, a sense of camaraderie flushed over me.  These were of course the tissues that the XX-chromosomed ones carried when we needed to visit the ladies room.  We did so quite often with a sense of solidarity that comes from foreigners facing the reality of being in a foreign land.  Hidden behind the door, would it be a pedestal or the more minimalist, local version? Would there be paper or an empty tissue paper container?  Might someone already be occupying the private space behind the door but had left the door unlatched? It was all part of the adventure.  Sometimes we soldiered on doing our best to ignore the practically emetic fumes; staying faithfully together as though together we were invincible.  Other times we were delighted to find a truly starred lavatory experience.  Remember the decadently decorated washroom in Shanghai that addressed certain issues that would no doubt confound our Congress?  How is it that the food was so amazing but Michelin ratings seemed to have passed the restaurants by and yet the bathrooms were often referred to with galactic ratings?

rapids at Tiger Leaping Gorge
I looked up in time to see that before I could object, the chicken (bone in and skin on thanks Peter) I planned to purchase was been protected by a plastic bag.  Plastic. Plastic bags. Plastic bottles.  The fluctuating levels of the upper Yangtze River had left a foam of plastic waste along the steep cliff ravine the River had carved.  The River was more powerful than I could imagine.  I had seen it with my very own eyes yet still couldn’t conceive of its force: its hydraulic power mesmerized me as it moved from smooth water to a tumbling, building battle rolling over on itself, fighting with itself, churning itself inside and out.  To me, it seemed like the River was taunting those watching it to dare question its greatness.  Had the tiger? Had the River been angered by the Tiger’s legendary ability to leap it without batting an eye?  How could any living thing not be humbled by this; one of the greatest and simplest forces of nature doing what it simply does following the laws of physics?  

But the plastics.  The plastic foam, the detritus of human consumption lay on its bank just out of reach from the lapping water.  Occasionally small islands of bottles and bags and toys slipped into the water or ebbed out from some hidden rocky enclave and circled in on itself teasing the water.  “You can't hurt me,” it seemed to mockingly call out to the raging water.   But the River was too great, its roar too thunderous to take notice of the small insignificant pock on its majesty.  Centuries ago, the Yangtze had been a determining factor in the development of civilization in that part of the world.  In many ways, that River has contributed to the world’s economy and affected the world politically and now it is decorated with garish and sun bleached plastic.  
Tiger Leaping Gorge above the rapids


I was a contributor of course.  I chugged bottle after bottle of water everywhere we went.  I had a supersized American habit of drinking water and since I could not use a refillable container, I drank from and then disposed of plastic bottle after plastic bottle.  Did some of my consumption end up dancing in the gorge’s eddies? What is to happen with all the plastic waste?  What does it mean for a society to celebrate its history and natural resources and trash them at the same time?  How can this duality be reconciled?  How can the drive of “progress” and goal to be the world’s most super powerful power miss the basic need to keep its nest clean?  Where does this happen in our lives on US soil?

Plastic.  We were told very matter-of-factly by your delightful cousin that rice had been tainted with small pieces of plastic.   Rice in China, tainted.  Had I heard this story before I set foot in China, I would have dismissed it as a tragic piece of news in a foreign land.  An unfortunate lapse of human rights by an economic-political complex that I didn’t understand.  By the end of the trip, when I did hear the story, I felt I understood how this could happen.  I was still enraged, but felt that I could begin to understand your cousin’s “such is life in China” attitude. I had begun to understand China.  

women playing cards at Temple of Heaven, Beijing
Through our journey, I saw the sights and monuments that were on perfectly crafted itinerary.  In my daily wanderings, I saw the faces of the people in the streets, the people placidly moving with the flow of traffic on rickety bikes.  I watched their movements, their pace—always moving but somehow not in complete control of where they were going.  I watched the faces and eyes of the Chinese travelers, tourists in their own country, proud of their redacted history and of their modern-day accomplishments that show the world what they can do.  I saw the contrasts that are China, the extremes: gargantuan towers rising up from agricultural fields reaching high into the hazy air.  I saw the pencil girls costumed in Versace strolling the luxury boulevards in Chengdu while a few corners away a woman strung rags together to make a sun shield to patch her roof.  In Shangri-La, my eyes were ablaze with the colorful prayer flags as they flapped in the wind carrying prayers to the wherever the believers needed them to go and in the cities, infinite flags of colorful laundry hung prayerless against dirty sky-rise buildings.  This was the country that could plasticize rice and move on to produce self-driving cars en masse.  After all they had human assembly lines replacing potted flowers nightly along city roads and sidewalks. 
women pilgrims at Sumtsenling Monastery, Shangri La

I reached into my cart to check the label on the plastic food containers I wanted to purchase.  Made in China.  Human assembly lines turning petroleum products into everything that we touch.  We had heard about how factory workers, particularly girls had become the new economic force in China, disrupting the traditional social-economic constraints.  At what cost?  They can do anything, but what is the cost?  How could our present-day world exist without all the plastic gadgets that make life easy and inexpensive in the short term, but when will we as a world realize that this can’t continue.  When will it matter that we are making new floating continents of plastic, that sea life and now people are consuming plastic unwittingly, that our garbage pits are becoming mountain ranges. How does it end?


Sunday, June 18, 2017

Ultimate--International Championships, Royan France

Rayon's bay and beach
My son, Jim, has been an exceptional Ultimate player (Stanford, San Francisco's "Jam" club team), coach (University of Colorado team, Johnny Bravo club team) and aficionado for 25 years.  Right now, he's playing on the USA senior (called "grandmaster") Ultimate team in the international beach championships in Royan, France.  So, I'm here to watch him play.
USA team marching into stadium (Jim is 4th from the left)
Royan is on the Atlantic Coast, in the Bay of Biscay.  It was mostly destroyed by British bombs in World War II as the RAF attacked 2 German fortresses at the mouth of the Gironde Estuary.  So, there are virtually none of Rayon's historic buildings left, but its beaches are the real attraction. There are a series of bays with wide golden beaches lined with a beautiful boardwalk that continues for several miles around the bays.
USA team backed by flags of competing nations
The opening ceremony of the championships was today, very hot but quite thrilling to see the flags and teams of 39 countries march into the stadium.  France is on high security alert because of the recent terrorist attacks here and in the UK, so the boardwalk and surrounding streets and squares have roving patrols of heavily armed soldiers.
French soldiers on patrol by the beach
We are grateful for them, sweltering in all their gear and obviously watching the area with great concentration.
Last night, my first here, I walked around one of the bays about 9 p.m. as the sun was getting low in the sky.  Sunset didn't actually occur until nearly 10:00 p.m. on this close-to-the-longest day of the year.  The old stone lighthouse and the small boats in the harbor glowed with the setting sun.  Finally, a cooling breeze eased the heat of the day.  By the time I went to bed, it was going from scorching to balmy, a lovely way to end a long day of travel.
small boat harbor and lighthouse at sunset
I'm trying out my first Airbnb accommodation, a small condo with a pretty view of the bay. It's basic, but perfectly located about 2 miles from the Ultimate fields, so I can walk along the beach to get to the games.  While the town is quiet right now, despite the large numbers of tall, super-fit men and women who thrive on a tough, fast-moving sport, you can see that when summer is in full swing, the place throbs with music and activity.

China 1987 and 2017--amazing contrast

the Great Wall in 1987
Don and I first visited China in 1987, exactly 30 years ago.  We returned on May 5 for our 20th visit to China and saw yet again that the transformation from 1987 is nothing short of astonishing.
In 1987, there were no private cars in China, only vehicles belonging to the top echelon of the political elite and military.  Virtually everyone wore dark gray or blue Mao jackets and baggy pants.  If a family had a refrigerator, which was extremely rare, it occupied the prized place in the tiny living room, draped with a Chinese flag or piece of red cloth.  There were no TV's, cameras, electronics of any kind. Instead, there were tens of millions of rickety bikes clogging the narrow roadways, hauling people and goods.  Overloaded hand carts strained many a back.
one of many banquets--1987
moving goods by handcart--1987
bicycles were used in place of trucks--1987
China had decrepit airports, no highway infrastructure, dilapidated rail systems.  Today, multi-lane highways sweep across the landscape, jammed with private cars that make movement very slow; airports are huge and modern with more being built all the time; train service, though very crowded, is modern, convenient and often very high speed.
chef carving Peking duck--2017
In 1987, we could not get bottled water.  The only drinks were warm orange soda and beer and the hangover-inducing maotai that was extremely popular at the many banquets.  Each morning, the hotel maid would leave a jug of boiling water outside your door for brushing your teeth or making tea.  The hotels were crumbling and dirty, with awful food and service.  Today, every major international hotel chain has gorgeous hotels all over China, with good service, English-speaking personnel, lovely rooms and great restaurants.
In 1987, we brought Polaroid cameras and stacks of Polaroid film cartridges.  Other than Chairman Mao, there were no photos of people or families.  When we took a Polaroid photo of a child in a park, soon there would be hundreds of families crowding around demanding














a photo of themselves and their children (one child per family, so they were very precious).  Today, every Chinese person we see has at least one cell phone.  Many have 5 or 6 electronic devices, all working round the clock.
young men with their Polaroid photos--1987
On our first visit to the Great Wall, there were almost no other people there because it took 3 hours each way and there was no public transportation.  Today, the Wall is crowded with visitors who get there by private car or public bus along a wide, modern highway.
China's air pollution is infamous, and deservedly so.  The government had planned to build 1700 new coal-fired power plants over the next 10 years, but, thank goodness, has cut that in half (it needs to be cut out altogether) and is building solar and wind farms across the country.  We passed 3 large wind farms in the Gobi Desert between Jiayuguan and Dunhuang.
Gobi Desert wind farm--2017
On our first visit, we flew an ancient DC-3 from Beijing to Changsha, but were delayed for hours because it was raining and China didn't have instrument landing systems.  On this trip, we flew 6 legs on brand new Boeing 737's and Airbus A-120's.  The food was bad, but the service was very pleasant. Before, our check-in was by hand with hand-written boarding passes.  This time around, everything was on-line and electronic.
You can get excellent cell service just about anywhere in China today.  Internet access is available for free in every hotel.  But, you can't get Google.  China has blocked Google in favor of Baidu, it's principal search engine.  You can, however, access the internet with Bing or Firefox, though you can't get on Facebook or thousands of other sites.  The iron hand of censorship continues to be strong. Thirty years ago, access to any information was very restricted.  You could get only what the government wanted you to see.  So, that's pretty similar today except that with VPN, tens of millions of Chinese (and we tourists) can get on many prohibited sites.
high speed train--2017
On our first several visits to China, you could only enter the country if you were invited by an official, so our first trips were at the invitation of the People's Bank of China.  The People's Bank hosted us at banquets every night (or we hosted them with exactly the same food and protocol), organized our touring and put us up at their guest houses or hotels.  Now, of course, millions of Americans visit China every year.  All you need is a visa, which you can now get for 10 years.  You can travel by yourself, stay where you want, eat where you want in one of the countless restaurants and go just about everywhere except militarily sensitive zones.
farmers' market--1987
All commerce was government-owned.  Farmers had only recently been allowed to sell excess produce on the "open" market, a move which doubled agricultural production in just a few years. Farmers' markets lined the streets as farmers made a little money off their extra produce.  Today, there are large, clean, colorful markets everywhere.
kindergartners bowing to teacher--1987
The one child policy, in place for decades to tamp down China's population growth, was lifted about a year ago.  Still, most families have only one child, so children are adored and pampered, the focus of parents and grandparents.  In 1987, most children lived at their schools and visited their parents only on weekends.  This policy helped the government control the political education of children.  We visited several schools to see the dormitories and classrooms.  Now, parents have choices of public and private schools, but most can't afford the private schools.
children dressed up at the Summer Palace--2017
Pudong's skyscrapers--2017
Shanghai's financial district was only farmland in 1987.  In the last 20 years, thousands of buildings have gone up in Pudong, on the east side of the Huangpo River.  It's hard to imagine today that there were no lights at night, no buildings over 1 story, no traffic, no subway, only farmers and animals populating Pudong.
Suzhou's main canal--2017
It's certainly easier and more comfortable to visit China today.  The lives of most people are vastly better.  What China has accomplished in the 30 years since our first visit is remarkable, an economic miracle.  There's no political miracle, however, as China remains repressive and closed to any political change.  While there are many dissidents and thousands of protests, which few Chinese know about, most of the people we talked to are happy with their lives and not willing to rock the political boat.
Suzhou's main canal--1987



women singing at the Temple of Heaven--2017
musician at the Temple of Heaven--1987