Chi-Town

We awoke early on very, very little sleep. Our flight would leave at 5:30am, Toronto-bound, before we transferred to our final destination – my favourite city in North America, Chicago. 

I previously visited Chi-Town in 2011 and was completely mesmerized by the architecture. My hometown, Winnipeg, is often referred to as "Chicago of the North" for its turn-of-the-century Exchange District (which is beautiful and led to my appreciation for preserving historically relevant structures). But the buildings in Chicago are beyond that. They are larger than life in scale, detail and opulence. It is impossible to not be awestruck by their majesty. This would be my best friend's first time in the city. At the airport, we both buzzed with excitement. 

Until the first delay was announced. 

Then the second. 

There was a fuel leak and we wouldn't be leaving for at least seven hours, missing our T.O. connection. The crowd was getting antsy. I predicted it would be a stampede when re-ticketing was announced and, sure enough, it was. At that moment I realized I seriously needed to apply for 'The Amazing Race Canada' as I would totally kick ass. Navigating through the cranky horde, my fine foot work and agility got me to the head of the line. We were going to be re-routed through Calgary and arrive in Chicago a few hours later than previously scheduled. Awesome. I managed to score a food voucher as apology for the delay and could maintain my chill. 

Until that flight was also delayed. 

Because of snow. 

On October 3. 

F-U-C-K. 

When we finally got on the hour-long flight to Calgary, I compared our landing time to the departure of the flight to Chicago. We had 10 minutes to land, disembark, go through customs, go through security and then make it to the gate. My friend assured me we could do it; I, however, have always been more of a realist. I wasn't sure my fine footwork or complete willingness to take out strangers like a linebacker would suffice. When we got off the plane though, I hit the ground running to at least TRY.  

Calgary International (YYC) is one of my most hated airports. The signage is pathetic. The layout is unnecessarily confusing. I had a vague idea as to where to go though and I flew. I kept looking back at my friend as she kept trailing further and further behind. Sidenote: one should never wear heels for air travel. The fiercely competitive part of me needed to keep going. To feel the rush of jubilation as we successfully boarded the plane. The loyal part of me though needed to stop. Chicago just wouldn't be as fun without the Louise to my Thelma. We took a breather by the luggage carousal and then carried on at a much more practical pace. 

Despite being fifteen minutes late, we made the flight. Amazingly, the airline held it. The look of annoyance on everyone's face as we boarded was harsh but I had effectively achieved the goal I set out for myself AND my friend made it too, slightly disheveled but still looking fabulous.

I am SO applying for 'The Amazing Race Canada'. 

Korea: Travelogue (Part I)

"What do you do if you encounter a North Korean soldier?"

"We kill them."

The young male soldier, his face still riddled with adolescent acne, answered my query with not an iota of hesitation. It was a striking response. One that would be edited and refined in North America until the wording was deemed befitting for consumption by the general, non-military populace. I knew my travels to South Korea would be eye-opening for a number of reasons, however, this glimpse into life in a region still technically at war was definitely the most powerful. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 


I travelled to South Korea for a number of reasons. Visiting the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) only one of them. As a designer, part of my job is to keep up with trends in consumption, marketing, style, and technology. As one of the world's fastest-growing economies - and a nation that is actively funding and promoting its own creative industries - South Korea was an ideal destination to immerse myself in for a few weeks. I find that getting an education through travel is much more insightful than traditional means; it is the ultimate hands-on education in life. 

The second reason is that I love Asia. I love the people. I love the culture. I love the food.  I have never been disappointed with this part of the world. 

The third reason was ignited last summer after my father lost his short battle with cancer. I had always been fascinated by the Korean peninsula and wanted to travel there with him. He refused and warned against it with his usual subtlety: "you don't want to go up there as long as that nut job is in power". The nut jobs, unfortunately, are plentiful in positions of power but seem to be especially bounteous in this particular geographic location north of the 38th parallel.

After his passing, my father's words rang through my head … but I also couldn't help think about opportunities that may be missed by failing to seize the day. By regrets later in life from not being true to oneself. By the sheer and absolute boredom of remaining stationary. 

By the sheer and absolute boredom of remaining stationary in the middle of nowhere. 

So I booked a ticket to Seoul. And now here I am. One week in and just returned from a military camp where I observed through binoculars North Korean soldiers monitoring me through binoculars. This is easily one of the most memorable times of my life. 

To be continued...

NYC Day 3: From Times Square to Ground Zero

Today I explored the city at ground level, walking over 10km from Times Square to the former World Trade Centre site. It's amazing to me how every neighborhood here has its own flavour...its own visual identity and vibe. So far, my favorite area has to be Soho as the architecture represented is what I most associate with New York City. Grimey and artsy - it's also home to the "world's largest graphic design store". Cool. 

The Flatiron Building: 

Hospitality in Greenwich Village: 

Soho: 

Brooklyn Bridge: 

American Stock Exchange: 

View of Lady Liberty from the Staten Island Ferry: 

9/11 Memorial for Fallen Firefighters: 

Art in downtown Manhattan: 

 

NYC Day 2: Rockefeller Centre

Spent the day moving on up through the Upper East Side and then sidetracked through Central Park to see the spot every Beatles fan needs to pay respect to: the Dakota and Strawberry Fields. Walking through Manhattan reminds me of being in the Rockies, the shadows of concrete and steel giants leaving a dramatic, sometimes foreboding, cast on all of the action below. 

The lighting was perfect at Rockefeller Centre though, where I got another tourist to snap my pic: 

And then watched a scene for '30 Rock' being filmed: 

I'll pretend Jane Krakowski is waving at me, but there were literally hundreds of people around me: 

 

NYC Day 1: Times Square

I am in New York City this week to attend the 2012 PhotoPLUS Conference and Expo. And what better way to get in the spirit of the event than to take a ton of pictures of the city that never sleeps (not sure I'm going to either, as this place is AMAZING!). My hotel is quite near Times Square, so I spent the remains of a really, really long day immersed in the neon safari that is Times Square and enjoying a classic slice of NY pepperoni pie. 

View of Manhattan upon landing at LaGaurdia: 

Subway station near Times Square: 

The non-stop hustle and bustle of Times Square: 

BFFs Smurfette and Minnie Mouse hold hands in the neon safari of Times Square: 

 

The Worst Day of My Life (Part III)

The train rolled on through Sichuan province. Hills becoming mountains and mountains leading to shangri-la (Chengdu is known as the "gateway to Tibet"). My roommates departed well before we arrived at 11:00pm. Stretching my legs and inhaling (relatively) clean air after that seemingly endless journey was one of the greatest feelings ever. I got my luggage and hit a bold stride through the train station to the front waiting area which was a pedestrian plaza. There were hundreds...no, probably thousands of people waiting for loved ones and loitering around in general. The sea of humanity was somewhat hard to navigate through, but using a neon hotel sign in the distance as a beacon, I marched forward until *BOOM*. 

I mentioned previously how there are no rules to the road in China and people frequently drive in places where they shouldn't. For pedestrians this can be exceptionally dangerous considering one doesn't have a giant metal shield also surrounding them. And so I was struck. Not by a car, but by some dude on a motorcycle. I fell on my arse, half in shock, but managed to look up to see a figure hovering over me and yelling. Angrily. Good thing I didn't read that section of my English-Mandarin dictionary. And then he took off. Not bothering to help, not bothering to wait to see if I was okay (which I was). But the incident proved to be the icing on the cake fueling my own anger at being sick, at being uncomfortable, at having this country bring me to my knees.

I got up and headed towards the hotel but my series of unfortunate events wasn't over yet. Another thing I would quickly learn about China is that tourists can only stay in regulated hotels. I didn't have this issue previously as I pre-booked my hotel in Shanghai and stayed at an American chain in Beijing. Despite being communist, China is actually every bit as capitalistic as the west (perhaps moreso), so it was with shock that I was turned away from not one, not two, but three hotels after arriving in Chengdu. I contemplated seeking three wise men to help me find room at an inn, but then finally came across a place willing to accept my yuan. I can't remember the name of it, but it was a high-rise and  the interior was dark. Very dark. Perhaps it was to camoflauge an insect infestation or, more likely as I later calculated, it was for privacy, né secrecy. As I finally crawled into bed ready to sleep until the next decade, my potential slumber was interrupted literally every 10 minutes by a phone call or knock on the door asking if I would like a "massage". Yup. Pretty sure I was staying at a brothel. 

But with every sunrise comes a new day. Life is never as bad as you think it is and with every bout of bad luck, a wave of good fortune is soon to wash over. It did for me. Early in the morning, I looked up hotels in Chengdu on the internet and discovered a Crowne Plaza a few kms away. I made my way over to their luxurious high-threadcount sheets and spent the day watching terrible Jennifer Aniston (or was it Kate Hudson?) movies, eating exotic fruit from a basket in my room and taking the longest shower in recorded history. Feeling refreshed gave me a new outlook on my trip - I was only supposed to be in the city for three days, but decided to stay over a week after falling in love with the people, their spicy food and a new friend. He was, after all, the reason I was in Chengdu in the first place and definitely made the adventure worth it: 

 

THE Worst Day of My Life (Part II)

China tends to be a pretty restrained society. This might have something to do with it. So it was thus bizarre that as I was about to board my train to Chengdu I witnessed two employees at an adjacent coffee shop to my terminal having an outright brawl. Fists were flying, headlocks were being utilized to great effect. It was like a live WWE show. Someone approaching sternly bellowed at them to stop and it ended with each employee retracting to their corner of the roughly 8'x5' space; an awkward, long day of making lattés ahead of them. To this day, I still wonder what it was all about. 

As the rush of the previous hour died down, I boarded my train. It was nothing like the Shanghai-to-Beijing route that I previously took, fully modernized to impress the numerous international tourists that frequented it. This train and it's decor looked straight out of 1973: linens stained yellow from all the cigarette smoke being filtered through the interiors, crew members pushing around carts of warm milk and noodles and using the same ladel to distribute both. I made my way to my cabin and met the roommates I would be sharing a relatively intimate space with for the next 30+ hours. While we couldn't verbally communicate, I made use of my English-Mandarin dictionary and attempted elementary conversation with them. I learned that one was a jeweller in the Szechuan province who was very proud of his car (a silver Japanese sports model) and the other was enroute to visiting his family after spending time away seeking work in the capital. Train travel is great for having authentic interaction with locals. By the end of my journey, the jeweller gave me a solid jade buddha for good luck that is one of my most valuable possessions, if only because of back story. 

The day faded into night. The night...remained bright. The florescent lights in my cabin would not turn off. Being on the top bunk, I had one shining in my face all night as I attempted sleep but it wasn't meant to be. On top of lack of slumber, I was starting to feel ill. I don't know if it was all of the smoke or the after-effects of my newfound msg diet, but this train was definitely starting to feel claustrophobic. I left the cabin to explore and soon realized how good I had it; I, at least, had a relatively private cabin. The other areas of the train were packed to the hilt with people barely able to move. I went to the one place where I could truly be alone: the washroom. 

The majority of toilets in China are mere holes in the ground. Train travel is no exception. The balance and aim that one must perfect exponentially increases in difficulty in a moving vehicle and was a feat that the individual who used this receptacle before me had failed miserably at. I rushed to open the window and was met with a greater wall of stench: at that very point in time, we were traveling through the most polluted region of China. The most disgusting, vile, toxic cloud of metallic haze hit me in the face. It was so thick, it left residue on my lips and tongue that I could taste for hours. Over the month I spent in the country, I became used to not seeing a blue sky, however, I could never, ever get used to that level of pollution. It's unreal. After adding my vomit to whatever else was on the floor, I left unashamed. For I was in China and that's how they roll. 

To be continued...

The Worst Day of My Life (Part I)

Sorting through my old archive of China images made me reflect upon one of the worst days of my life. Or 48 hours to be exact. Or to be even more precise it's probably not the worst, as I tend to not publicly reflect on that stuff, but rather the most post-humously humourous time in my life that I would be thankful to be alive. It started innocently enough in Beijing...late check-out at my hotel gave me time to sleep in and watch some forgettble Kate Hudson (or was it Jennifer Aniston?) movie, the only English television I'd watched in a week. I lingered, taking forever to get out of bed as I knew a 30+ hour trainride to Chengdu was the only thing to look forward to in my immediate future. Train rides in China are not pleasant. NOT IN THE SLIGHTEST. Sardines are afforded more comfort. And so I waited, through the end credits, through saying goodbye to the comfortable high-thread count sheet set, till 3:00pm, which gave me 45 minutes to walk across the street to the Beijing Railway Station to catch my ride. 

About that: Beijing Railway Station was where I purchased my ticket for Chengdu. I even bought it at the English-speaking counter so nothing (I hoped) was lost in translation and I didn't inadvertantly get a ticket to Mongolia. I didn't end up there, but as I returned to the station it was more than clear that this wasn't where I was supposed to be. As I handed my ticket over, the railway employee's eyes turned to saucers and she shrieked the universally understood "oh no!", turning away from me and running off into the distance with no further explanation. I stood completely confused until she returned with another employee who told me in broken English that I was at the wrong train station. Fuck. This would have been good information to have when I bought the ticket and before I wasted the day watching terrible chick flicks. The railway employee wrote down the name of the place I needed to be in Chinese and hurried me outside to catch a cab. I waved the paper in the air hoping to catch the eye of someone willing to make a buck. Unfortunately, the person who came to my rescue operated a black market cab. This would cost me dearly and almost cost me my life. 

Careening through rush-hour Beijing traffic was like being in a rocket ship. I swear to God, this guy's van was traveling at the speed of sound, blazing through red lights, swerving past pedestrians while jumping the curb onto the sidewalk. I didn't know which direction I was traveling, but I did know that we "tapped" two bicycle riders en-route. They appeared to be okay though (or so I hoped). In about 20 minutes (and for $200 CDN, which would have been about a $10 ride at most), we made it to the proper train station at the other end of town. But we weren't exactly AT the train station. The driver just stopped in the middle of the freeway and told us to get out. He didn't get a tip. 

A high-speed freeway. Five lanes in each direction, making for ten lanes of Chinese drivers to traverse through. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. There are no rules of the road in China. They will do whatever they have to do to get where they need to go. As a pedestrian, I've learned that one must do the same. Just boldly step forward and hope for the best (this is actually good advice for life too). And so I did. Each step bracing for impact, writing the perfect obituary in my head that would somehow hint at - and perhaps embellish - my desire to become a female Indiana Jones. But I made it. Traffic is organized chaos in Asia and somehow, someway, I made it across the freeway alive and with minutes to spare to catch my train. 

To be continued...