Where in the World is Al Sandiego?

I'm happy to report that I'm not dying from breathing in polluted air in Beijing. Yes, I've been here for only 28 hours so far, and at least half of that time has been spent at my cousin's central air conditioned house way out in the 'burbs. Ask me how my lungs are feeling next week and I might be singing (or wheezing) a different tune, but for now I'm of the opinion that the haze that has been written about, reported on, criticized, etc. for months is not dissimilar to the smog you see in cities like LA: fine dust particles (from the Gobi Desert) mixed with air contaminants mixed with fog. Stay tuned for an update.

So I made it to Beijing after an uneventful trip from Seattle via Seoul. I got to Sea-Tac at 11:30am on Tuesday morning, three hours before take-off. While checking in at the Korean Air counter, the women told me that my big red suitcase (aka "Clifford") was 3 or 4 kilos over the weight limit. When they told me this, my other check-in piece already had been put on the conveyor belt and disappeared into the bowels of the airport that mere mortals never get to see. That meant I couldn't transfer anything to the duffel bag. I sat there with Clifford open, pushing things around, and realizing I couldn't do a whole lot. Finally the Korean Air peeps told me to reweigh the bag, and after they saw that the weight hadn't changed much (I had taken out 2 lbs. of coffee) they said I could check it in but that I would need to stay within the limit the next time. Sure, no problem, since EVERYTHING in Clifford was for my cousin and his wife or my mom.

On the plane I got bounced around from one seat to another, not by the flight attendants but by other passengers who were trying to keep their respective groups together. I can appreciate that, but since I always travel solo I'm the one who gets asked. I went from a window seat to an aisle and finally back to a window, four or five aisle ahead of where I originally had been. Plus, I was fortunate to have a really nice Korean woman (probably in her mid- to late 30s) and her cute daughter (8 or 9 years old) as my aisle-mates. The mother spoke English fairly well so we chatted on and off during the 11-hour flight. She even showed me the proper way to mix bibimbap, the well-known Korean rice dish. When you order it at a restaurant, it usually comes pre-assembled or close to it. Korean Air, however, served it in components that you had to blend yourself. The meat and vegetables were in one bowl, the rice in another, and the condiments separate from that. So following the instructions of Nice Korean Woman in Seat 30G, I dumped the rice on top of the meat/vegetables, drizzled a packet of sesame oil on top, and squeezed out a small tube of hot pepper paste. Mixed well, ate, and enjoyed.

The Korean Air flight attendants, starting with the ones who greeted us as we were boarding and ending with those who said goodbye when we were deplaning, assumed I was Korean and therefore spoke to me in Korean. This is not the first time in my life that such a thing has happened. Usually Asians are pretty good at deciphering who belongs to what ethnicity based on facial composition, but I guess I look Korean because I kept getting "Anyeong haseyo!" and who-knows-what-else thrown at me. I almost felt embarrassed revealing that I wasn't one of them - it's like telling them they've been fooled. As far as I know, this doesn't happen to anyone else in my immediate family, even though my younger sister Christine is a carbon copy of me (with longer hair).

I have to say, Korean Air has a great in-flight entertainment system. Each seat has a screen as well as a remote control that pops out of the armrest. You can watch a number of different things (full-feature movies, short movies, documentaries, news broadcasts, sports, etc.) and even pause and restart if you need to use the bathroom or something. I watched four movies and four travel shows in between the two meals, which is about equal to my exposure to TV over a five-month period. Just another reason that foreign carriers are usually the way to go when you have a choice.

Nothing to report on my short layover in Incheon (the actual location of the Seoul airport), other than having to guzzle an entire bottle of water because I couldn't take it through security. The water was in my 2008 Great Lakes Regional Barista Championship commemorative bottle that I didn't want to leave behind, so the only option was to empty its contents...into my stomach, as I would have lost my place in line had I left for the bathroom. On the flight to Beijing, we were served another meal that was a bit perplexing. There was a plastic container of a white gelatin-like substance, but the entire label was in Korean with no indication in English as to what was inside. I opened it and found that it had a creamy texture, but I wasn't sure it was tofu or if it was supposed to be sweet or salty. There was a sauce packet that, again, was labeled only in Korean and therefore not indicative of being sweet or salty. I dumped that over the creamy white blob and tried it...salty. I'm not a huge fan of cold tofu, but this was passable so I ate most of it. As many of you dear readers know, I hate wasting food.

Arrived in Beijing and breezed through immigration and customs. Literally. The whole episode was anti-climactic, since my cousin had gotten his supervisor at the U.S. Embassy to sign a letter attesting to my identity, relationship to my cousin, and location of their residence. The plan was to whip it out in case I got hassled by the authorities because I wasn't going to stay at a hotel. No problem there. The only problem was getting through the thing that looks like a metal detector but actually measures your body heat. I think it was installed during or just after the SARS outbreak, because I've seen it at the Shanghai airport as well. The one in Beijing Terminal 2 kept going off and the people manning that station didn't seem to know what to do. Fortunately I squeezed to the front of the line and managed to avoid setting the alarm off, meaning that my body temperature is normal. Well, duh...I'm such a cool person (har har).

I was going to blog about our short trip out to the Huanghua section of the Great Wall as well as the Chinese acrobats show we attended, but it's now past 2am and I'm having trouble staying awake. So I'm going to post this now and try to catch up later.

I have just enough time before my Korean Air flight to Seoul for a quick post. I meant to do this over the weekend but got muddled in packing, creating a whole new playlist for my iShuffle, and cleaning my apartment so I wouldn't be disgusted at myself upon returning from this trip. It's amazing how much stuff I packed to take to my mom and my cousin and his wife. My big red suitcase (I should refer to it as "Clifford") is full of things that I'm leaving behind in China...there's nothing in it that's actually mine. Among the weirder items in that suitcase: 3 packages of nylon knee-highs (fortunately my co-worker Karen bought these at Fred Meyer on my behalf!), 1 jar of cream of tartar (not tartar sauce), 2 boxes of Immodium AD, and 1 bottle of Zacapa (the BEST rum in the entire world...from Guatemala of all places).

Originally I was going to post the second entry of my blog either on the way to China or right after I got there, but a couple of weeks have passed since my inaugural entry. My friend Monica said she heard that a blogger needs to post at least twice a week to maintain consistent readership levels. Wow, I never knew. Since my blog is limited to writing about international trips that I take, I don't think I'll be posting that often. I like traveling and all, but who's on an overseas flight twice a week? Well, aside from my friend Tom, who criss-crosses the world like it's going out of style. I aspire to have his frequent flyer elite status someday.

One of the reasons I decided to blog again was to explain my motives behind going to Beijing. A couple of people asked me over the past few months if I felt conflicted in any way, given all of the negative press that the Chinese government has received - particularly during and after the civil unrest in that southwestern region whose name starts with the letter T. It's probably best to refrain from addressing this issue on-line, lest I get seized in the middle of the night by masked agents and shuttled on the first flight out of the country. Either way, I don't feel that my attendance really contributes to and/or legitimizes the policies & actions of the Chinese government.

First and foremost, I am a self-professed Olympics geek. I've watched every single Opening Ceremony (winter AND summer, thank you very much) on TV since Sarajevo and Los Angeles hosted in 1984. I toured the Olympic stadia in Munich (1972) and Barcelona (1992) during my junior year in college. In 2000 I used my Peace Corps readjustment allowance (which many of my peers spent more judiciously) and traveled to Australia for the Sydney Games. So when I found out two years ago that my cousin was getting posted to the U.S. Embassy in Beijing, I told him and his wife that I definitely would come in 2008.

Also, I view these Games as a celebration of Chinese history, culture, and traditions. As one of the estimated 40 million members of the Chinese diaspora, the Beijing Olympics are like a coming-home party to which I invited myself. I recognize that there's quite a bit of baggage, but let's not forget that no one regime, country, political system, or whatever owns the Olympics. Even with all of the criticism and scrutiny, the Chinese still have to put on a good show.

There's a lot more I could say about this, but I need to make my way over to the S Terminal...wouldn't want to miss my flight!

I can't believe I just set up a blog. Ever since their initial appearance in cyberspace I derided blogs as self-gratifying and borderline narcissistic, as if you wanted the entire world to know every minute detail about your life and believed that they actually cared. Well, people do care. I have two sets of friends on global adventures right now (Venisha in China & Thailand and Monica & Kevin in Eastern Europe) who are blogging, and I can't help but log on to their respective pages every day and read about their adventures. Even if I've been to the place they're describing in a post, I still feel like I'm seeing it for the first time through their eyes. So I bit the proverbial bullet and started a travel blog. After all, travel isn't merely a hobby or a favorite pasttime...it's become a part of who I am, what I do, and how I lead my life. Wow, that sounded really canned.

So you may be wondering why I'm calling my blog "Where in the World is Al Sandiego?" It's not like I live in or am from San Diego. My older sister Trish and my brother-in-law Anthony (aka Twan) both lived there for a long time before they even met, but those who know me well shouldn't be surprised that Southern California really isn't my thang. Sorry, T&T. Rather, I've assumed the identity of Carmen Sandiego, a popular cartoon figure from the 1990s who trekked around the globe chasing shadowy figures. She had to solve geographical trivia questions, if I recall correctly, to stay in hot pursuit, and eventually she would catch the thief and put him/her in jail. I saw the show a few times and thought it was very clever, i.e., using the medium of animation to teach viewers (kids, ostensibly) about geography. I also recall that the main character had a mysterious side to her: she always had her large fedora tilted at an angle so you couldn't see both of her eyes. As if she were a secret agent or something. I've always liked James Bond movies and admit fantasizing about being a spy...when I was younger, of course. Mmm hmm.

But I must give credit where credit is due. My former co-worker Ramie, whom I supervised during my last 16 or so months at Alterra and who remains a good friend, used the line "Where in the World is Al Sandiego" for a newsletter title or some such nonsense. The details are hazy - I think I was in Africa at the time - but it stuck, and I could barely leave the basement office (affectionately and dis-affectionately known as "The Lower Mezz") without someone humming that catchy tune. OK, perhaps that was a bit of a stretch, but I secretly liked the idea of adopting that persona. Plus the surname sounds Latino, especially if pronounced correctly, and a small part of me still identifies with the Latin culture...which is why my 13-1/2 month old niece Nina will start calling me "Tio" when she learns how to enunciate the word in the near future. Don't laugh. I'm completely serious.

Anyway, I'm now Al Sandiego, perhaps not tracking criminals but enjoying the adventure just the same. I've taken quite a few domestic trips this year, mostly for work, but I intend to dedicate this blog to the occasions when I get to collect more stamps in my passport. Again, those who have had the fortune (or misfortune) of traveling with me overseas are well-aware that I like to see stamps in my passport, particularly new ones.

Next stop: Beijing, China, for the Games of the XXIX Olympiad!