Xi'an, Shaanxi

It's truly remarkable, yesterday I was in a small Chinese village 65km outside of Xi'an and now I am at a Starbucks, mooching off their free Internet. The contrasts of China...

Well, I am more or less fresh back from my 5 day vacation to Hong Kong, although it feels as though it was months ago. The trip down was absolutely worth it; I realized how much I missed playing Ultimate and spending time with the Ultimate community. Our team came together nicely by the end of the tourney. I lost my voice and was successful in getting a nice, deep raspberry on my hip after laying out for a disc.

Chip was nice enough to bring my laptop, among other things, to the Tourney. Now having my laptop, I've been able to fix my iPod and recover the pictures I previously thought lost. Please view them here.

Since I have returned to the tour, it has been nothing but stress. They are testing me for Africa by loading me with responsibilities. They are mostly trivial, but when juggling it with the responsibilities I was already given, it gets a bit difficult. Not by any means beyond my capabilities, but the tour is no longer a walk in the park. My role in Africa is to run communications, not a bad job for a Communications major.

Part of the job is to write a daily blog entry, thus the past few days I have been writing about three paragraphs and sending them to the tour founder for review. This has been taking most of my computer time, hence I haven't written in a while. I am going to post them on this blog as well. Feel free to critique, I am trying a few different styles to keep it interesting. The current blog is a little sugar coated and I am trying to write in a more experiential way.

The other half of my time has been spent planning our entry into Beijing. My friend Adam works PR in Beijing and has been helping quite a bit. We've got a basic plan of events for the day and the hotel is finally book. We're in the process of contacting local media to cover our arrival and hopefully get some publicity for the tour.

Like I said, we've made it to Xi'an. We will enjoy two rest days here and then press onward to Beijing. I've organized an excursion to the Terra-cotta warriors and about 35 people signed up. Tonight I met with Lousia, my local contact, to catch up and make sure everything is set for tomorrow. She did a great job this past summer with my family and she is making the transition from tour guide to tour organizer. She was very excited to help with this excursion.

Thats all for now. I will be in touch more often now that we are in Eastern China , my official TDA blog entries are below. Enjoy.

11.1.07
A hysterical screech comes from behind, trucks are in every direction and the shoulder is uneven. There is no time to glance back. Was it a precautionary, warning or passing horn? The squeal sounds once more, sounding much closer. A maniacal 18-wheeler hurries by, coughing inky exhaust and showering the shoulder with dust and pebbles. Peering out of the heavily tinted, half open window is a sun beaten passenger showing his few remaining teeth. His tired eyes are fixed upon the most peculiar thing he has seen all day. His confusion is apparent as the truck speeds ahead. Seconds later, an arm becomes visible, with the thumb raised high in approval.

11.2.07
“Tsk tsk tsk,” clucks Mr. Xu followed by a James Dean like drag from his cigarette. “Mei ban fa,” he mumbles. It’s impossible to go further.

We’re returning from a scouting mission, reporting tomorrow’s ride and finding a decent hotel in the next town. We’ve encountered this traffic jam earlier, from the other direction. Contrary to our hopes, the four-hour ordeal has failed to clear and we’re once again the middle. We’re beginning to worry about tomorrow’s ride. The riders will have no problem, but our trucks certainly will.

Local trucks loom to the left, right, front and rear—deceptively quiet. A car moves in the distance! A chorus of diesel engines crank to life, spewing exhaust from their tail pipes while headlights cast their glow ahead. The light tries to pierce the dusty, polluted air with little success. Clutches are mashed and gears crunch in a race to be the first to the new opening. Mr. Xu takes the opportunity to use the shoulder and the hard pack dirt just beyond to jump ahead of a truck. We’ve made it between the next pair of trucks and plotting our next move when everyone stops and we’re waiting once more.

Ten minutes pass until headlights can no longer be seen in the oncoming lane, Mr. Xu again seizes the opportunity. Thrusting the car into first, we’re in the other lane and moving fast. The sleepy trucks remain as we breeze by; we’ve gained at least another kilometer, maybe two. The pollution ahead is backlit, brakes slam and Mr. Xu wedges us between two semis. We wait for a minute and then he cuts the engine. We’re not going anywhere.

11.3.07
A black pockmark mars the granite face. The humble entrance contains two kilometers of darkness, taunting us. As we pass under the archway, the temperature drops and despite the number of cars we hear the sound of few engines reverberating off the smooth walls.

The day’s traffic jam has piled into the length of the tunnel resulting in a passageway of exhaust…not unlike the path to a smoker’s lung. Truck headlights burn hopelessly into building fumes. Our AA battery powered cycling lights are no match. We cycle between the two lines of vehicles, praying that drivers on either side decide to keep their doors closed.

We’re doing well. One kilometer lay behind with the next well underway. We leave it to our lungs to battle the milky smog. Suddenly, engines are alive once more, halving the amount of oxygen. The jam turns to a rapid squirm and we are pedaling more cautiously, half of the traffic threatening us from behind, with the other coming head on.

A soft haze of daylight begins to appear in the distance. Our eyes and minds are fixated on the fuzzy light while our bodies instinctively weave through the scrambling cars. We’ve made it. Our eyes squint at the brightness of day while our chests heave, clearing space for much needed oxygen. We emerge as a coal miner might, faces shroud with soot. It’s a mascara commercial gone horribly wrong.