On Pushy Mainlanders and Other Random Notes from Hong Kong

• I love the J.W. Marriott in Hong Kong. We could stay in the hotel and have a perfectly lovely vacation without ever going out. Just be careful to follow the rules. We got in trouble once for not taking our shoes off before putting our feet up on the folding recliners by the pool.
• The passion fruit tea at Starbucks tastes the same here, but instead of an iced tea, it's more of a crushed ice smoothie. I'm going to suggest it to the Starbucks at home.
• We've eaten at two French restaurants on this trip to Hong Kong. 
• Food figures prominently in these bullet points.
• There are a lot of "pointers" in Hong Kong that we didn't notice before. These are people who, no matter where you are, politely point where you should go. The museum was full of them. Though the next exhibit was clearly marked, a person in a uniform would be standing there pointing to it. When we bought our octopus cards in the subway station (the card that allows you to use transit), we encountered an official pointer. As we came to the front of the line, she pointed to the counter so we'd know when and where to go though it couldn't have been more obvious. Clyde and I theorized that this may be a response to all the mainlanders. Which brings me to the next bullet.
• Chinese mainlanders have a reputation for being pushy and rude. Hong Kongers are especially annoyed at their bad manners. Clyde and I have noticed it in other places as well, such as in Yellowstone National Park and at the Louvre museum in  Paris. Busloads of Chinese descend en mass. They talk loudly no matter where they are. They sometimes cut in line. Occasionally they're just clueless. I'll never forget the Chinese lady who took a picture of a picture of the Mona Lisa. Though it was in the next room, she took a photo of the directions to the real thing. Perhaps a pointer would have been helpful. I've heard one theory by way of explanation. It might be that the Chinese were so isolated and broken down by the cultural revolution, that the entire population never traveled or saw the rest of the world. A couple of generations went by where survival was the only goal. No one visited museums or national parks. Now they have the money and freedom to go to places, but having money doesn't automatically mean you know social etiquette. 
• The best thing about the J.W. Marriott in Hong Kong is the breakfast buffet. They're usually good at Marriotts, but this one is over the top. Everything from traditional Chinese noodles and dumplings (see photo below) to fresh pastries, salmon, fruit, French toast, omelettes to order, and everything else you could possibly want. Yes, I even found the "frosties flakes."





• Clyde is very good at spotting the difference between local Hong Kongers and mainlanders. Of course, he can hear the difference between Cantonese, the language of Hong Kong, and Mandarin, what most mainlanders speak. My husband is very smart. (In case you haven't noticed, I didn't bother to put these in any particular order.)
• The coffee at the J.W. Marriott is the best in the world. I don't know why. It just is. Last time we were here we asked what they use and they told us it was Starbucks Pikes blend. So we started using it at home. But it's not the same. I don't know what they do to it here, but it's so smooth, rich, dark, and non-bitter at the same time. It's almost worth the entire visit. 
• This blog is brought to you by J.W. Marriott (just kidding - I wish). 
• Hotel sex is always better. I don't know why. It just is.
• There are some large shopping malls here in Hong Kong. You'd think a vertical city with no extra room wouldn't have malls, which we Americans associate with vast parking lots and suburban sprawl. There are, however, large, multi-level malls with giant atriums in Hong Kong, complete with nice restaurants and gigantic Christmas  decorations hanging from the ceiling. They are underground. They often connect one subway line to another. We're talking high end stuff too, like Versace and  Yves Saint Laurent - not a Walmart or Sears in sight.
• Speaking of Christmas, they advertise for it here, complete with snow scenes and reindeer. It's odd to see kids throwing snowballs and sledding on a billboard in a place where I'm sure most people never see snow.
• The subway is great: clean, modern, fast ... I love a good subway.
• Tomorrow we are off to Japan for a quick visit. Stay tuned.

PostBlog from Paris: This City is Kicking My Ass, but the People Are Not

When I lived in New York City I made fun of the tourists who went on the Circle Line Tours. I could never so obviously be a tourist, If I ever had any pride, I'd have to blend in.

I've changed my tune.

First of all, we don't blend in here in France. We must smell American. The minute we walk into a restaurant, before we open our mouths or do anything at all, they take one look and hand us the English version of the menu. I don't know why. (Point of accuracy - Clyde says it doesn't happen everywhere, and it's usually because we're wearing backpacks. Fine, if you want accuracy, read the New York Times ...)

So you can read about Paris dozens of other places. I'll just tell you that the first day, we walked and walked and walked and walked and walked. The metro (subway) sped things up a little, but we really put some miles on the old dogs. The second day, we bought some shoe insert thingies to soften our instep because our feet were so sore, I personally thought I couldn't go on. The pain was nearly unbearable. I also needed to buy band-aids for my toes which were blistering, Hey, I understand that people in Paris have suffered through some tough times (I've learned at various historical sites). But did they ever have to stand in line on sore feet to get into Notre Dame, only to stand and walk, stand and walk, stand some more and walk slowly around from Saint to Saint once they got inside?

Long story short (too late, I know), Clyde and I and spent 37 Euros apiece for a two day pass on the L'Open Tours bus which drives around the city to all the major tourist sites. You can jump off the bus whenever you want and get back on when you're done seeing the sight you wanted to see. Or, if your feet are killing you, you can just stay on the bus and ride around, listening on the headphones which plug into a jack located by each seat which, depending on the channel you select, tells you about whatever you are driving by in whatever language you speak.

Sometimes it's hard to make up your mind. True conversation: "Here's the stop for the Eiffel Tower. Should we get off?" "I don't know. Look. They have ice cream." "Ok."

I hope I never meet Rick Steves and have to confess I did such a thing, but there you are. I saw more in one day on that bus than I otherwise would have seen in a week, including the outside of the Moulin Rouge, crowds lining up at Sacre Coeur, Napoleon's Tomb, and the art deco cinema with the largest screen in Europe. At €37, that's a bargain.

A Note About the French

Clyde and I feel strongly that Americans are stupid. Ok. Not all Americans. Just the ones that complain about how rude the French are. We have seen absolutely no evidence, whatsoever, to support that stereotype. The people we have met, including and especially waiters, have been courteous, helpful, and tolerant as we struggle to communicate and deal with unfamiliar currency. The advice has been that if you make an effort with them by trying a few French words, minding your own manners, and smiling graciously, they will return the favor with kindness and helpfulness, even speaking English if the can. On the other hand, if you act like a boorish, entitled asshole American, then why shouldn't they be rude back to you?

My favorite experience with this so far has been the server who struggled with her English but tried very hard to use it with us. Clyde gave her our order in French, asking questions and getting clarification on a few of the menu items. Throughout the meal, she returned to us a few times, each time attempting to speak English to us before remembering that she could speak French to Clyde. Her impulse was to make us more comfortable before remembering that she didn't need to struggle to speak.

End of sermon.

So Paris has kicked my ass but the Parisians have not. The people here have made the exhausting, painful experience of walking all over the city easier by their friendliness and good manners.

Howdy from Tourist Country

Colorado is a tourist destination. I know that surprises you enormously, but sometimes those of us who live here forget the close proximity of attractions that many others travel a long way to see.

A couple of weeks ago, for the first time in the 21 years I’ve lived here, I went to the top of Pikes Peak. If it weren’t for friends visiting from Georgia, I would have missed the bluest sky ever, a herd of bighorn sheep, and of course the home made donuts at the top. Pikes Peak was just one of many options within reasonable driving distance that I gave my guests for sight-seeing. Others included the Royal Gorge, the King Tut exhibit at the Denver Art Museum (DAM), and a hot springs near Winter Park.

I haven’t seen any of those other attractions either, and probably won’t unless more friends visit from the east.

I say the east because visitors from the west are generally less impressed with what Colorado has to offer. After all, California has better weather and beaches. The mountains in Washington and Oregon seem bigger (even though they really aren’t) because they rise from sea level. Also, those mountains are arguably more interesting because as volcanoes, they could blow at any time.

It’s the visitors from parts east that seem to enjoy Colorado the most. Families from Michigan, Illinois, and Nebraska plan their entire summer vacation around the chance to see a little scenery, touch some snow in July, and cool off at high altitudes. Iowans a little less so – let’s just say that you had better not be in a hurry if you get behind a car from Iowa in the mountains. At that speed, by the time they get to where they’re going, they’ll just have to turn around and go home.

Visitors from further east are really surprised by what they find here. One of my professors from graduate school heaped praise upon Denver by saying, “I was surprised to see such a bustling little city out there!” His impression was formed on the train from Concourse A to Concourse B while changing planes at Denver International Airport.

Easterners may insult us out of ignorance, but some westerners are pure snobs. While I personally like the Midwest and occasionally fantasize about moving back some day, Californians who think Colorado is part of that region are just asking for a pointy cowboy boot in the behind. And don’t even get me started about being described dismissively as “the great flyover.” Hey if that’s all this is to you, don’t visit. Just fly on over to the stinking cesspools of “civilization” and good luck trying to cool off there.

It’s the folks from the central and eastern time zones that seem to most appreciate being out here.

As one companion from Virginia watched a tumbleweed roll in front of the car near Boulder, he said he didn’t realize there actually were such things. Snapping a picture through the window, he explained that he thought they were just props used in movie westerns.

Years ago a friend visited Denver from New York City. He repeatedly declined offers to go to the mountains, but very much enjoyed what he called his visit to “the country.” I don’t think he left the city limits the entire time. It was enough for the Manhattanite to see green grass and trees through the Starbucks window.

Some friends’ relatives visiting from New Jersey bragged about catching bunches of trout in Estes Park. Turns out they literally stuck their rented lines into a crowded barrel of non-native rainbows. Hey, at least they had a good time and left some of their Jersey dollars here.

My favorite story is about taking a European to Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. He didn’t realize we would actually drive into and up on top of the mountains. He was just expecting to drive around them, admiring from afar.

Yes, I’m poking fun at people who actually enrich my state by visiting. In fact, when I see Colorado through their eyes, I’m reminded of how great it is to live here. After all, when I lived in the east, where did I go for vacations? You guessed it.

Of course that was before I discovered how much I like San Diego.