Europe Since Then

So the last post I put up was "Europe So Far" and now we're just continuing since then.

We left off with Kutna Hora. After going around town and seeing the sights, Daddy and I caught a bus back home to Prague, and the next day we took another one for Berlin.

The first night we stayed at a very nice hotel, and Mom and Daddy went to dinner with some friends, who, starting with the next day, would lend us their apartment as they went off on vacation. The parents came home at an absurdly late hour and we were torn between worry and that "WOOHOO THE PARENTS ARE OUT AND I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT YAAAAAY" feeling that most people get when the parents shut the door. And, like most people, we didn't really use our fleeting freedom and just hung out doing whatever. And then, you know, scolded our parents when they came home at 11.

Europe So Far

We'll start this thing with London.

Actually we'll start by saying I can't type. But this has already been established.

Maria and I flew from Chicago on Tuesday and arrived in Great Britain the day after, where we met with Mom, Daddy, and Ioan. We took the metro and eventually reached our hostel, which was recognizable thanks to the construction stuff around the entrance-y bit. We slept on the top floor, which happened to be the fifth. Thanks to the teeny-tiny elevator and the long wait required for it, we preferred the stairs. The internet was only available on the ground floor, so the stairs were used quite a bit.

We met up with our grandparents and sightsaw a bit, going to the Tower of London and seeing the Crown Jewels, Buckingham Palace (sans parents), saw the changing of the guard (yawn. Yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn. Yaaaaawn.), was rushed around the Queen's Gallery which happened to be showing a very interesting exhibition on Leonardo da Vinci (the rush was to see the yawn changing of the guard), saw Westminster Abbey which is less church and more graveyard.

Summer Camp

So it's about time I confront the keyboard and my rapidly deteriorating ability to type and write a blog post. I figure summer camp is as good a thing to write about as any. Except for the fact that it will be heavily censored, as this took place at a church camp, and further censored as this is a family blog and swearing is not included, and censored even further because the participants will probably end up reading it. Maybe.

Friday, Aug 17: Fly to UAE, bid parents adieu, fly to JFK, reach Saturday somewhere over the ocean.

Saturday, Aug 18: Keep flying, fly to Pittsburg, wait around to be picked up by someone, we do not know who.

Bali, Bruises, New Jobs, the Middle Ages, Sprite, Rumpelstiltskin, and Oh, By the Way, Lydia is Awesome.

Let's start in order—Bali.

Bali's pretty cool. Everyone's nice and friendly and proposes marriage to you. They ask for your name and give you theirs, shake your hand and ask where you're from, tell you you're pretty and that they hope to see you again soon. Occasionally, someone will try to sell you something. But they don't compliment you, usually. They just try to sell it to you.


Bruises.

We went surfing and I got bruises on my knees, my hips, my head, my arms, my elbows, my everywheres. Not that you can see them. But they're there. Hiding. Invisible. This is because we went surfing

Videos

So, I made a couple videos with the Hong Kong footage. The first one has a song by Roxette called "Fireworks" and it's about Hong Kong in general.

Click this

The second one has a song by Daisy Dares You called "Number One Enemy" and it's about the Chinese New Year parade.

WATCH HERE!

Enjoy!

Hawaii

Blog about Hawai’i. (I don’t actually like that apostrophe, so I’ll start again.)

Blog about Hawaii. (There, better.)

So we hopped on a plane from New Zealand and reached Sydney, Australia, where there was a free internet station with four computers and no chairs. I stood on my feet for well over an hour, checking my Facebook, my email, my deviantArt, and could’ve stayed much longer had there not been a person waiting for me to get off. But in the end, I solved all those little things that had been saying, “Ileana… come to us… reply to all your comments… read those poems… favorite these pictures…” The only thing that I couldn’t do with those computers was to upload my pictures to dA, because they were on our computer. The one that is never, ever connected to internet, and if it is, then the internet is too weak to upload so many photographs. It’s not so bad, though. There are only 80 photos crying to see the World Wide Web, and six people who will definitely see them, not to mention the innumerable passerby’s that say, “Oh pretty! I will favorite this picture! And this other picture by the same person! And look through their gallery and favorite some more pictures! Oh, what the heck, I’ll just add them to my watchlist and see every new picture they upload.” And so increases my popularity*.

Cambodia & Thailand

As an Orthodox Christian, I’m not supposed to believe in destiny, fate, omens, and the like. We’re supposed to believe in Free Will & Co., which is fine by me.

However, as a slightly superstitious, anything-is-possible, there-must-be-some-sort-of-hidden-meaning-to-this sort of person, I have three philosophies:

1. Everything happens for a reason.
2. Everything has some sort of hidden meaning and
3. If you figure out the hidden meaning, everything will turn out well in the end (the end, however, may come later than you think).

And this was beautifully demonstrated this morning at 4 am. But to explain, we must go to the beginning.

China (because this is SUCH an imaginative title)

Oh thank God for China. I understand China. I know Chinese food. China makes sense. Not that I don't love India, no—but despite how much colder it is here, I love China much more.

We flew from Kochi, India, to Guilin, China, then took a taxi to Yangshuo, where we had a real fireplace and electric blankets. We hiked mountains, rode buses, and floated down rivers. Then from Yangshuo we went to Guangzhou, and all I remember from it is we went to see the museum of the tomb of King Nanyue, who was buried in a suit of jade during the Han Dynasty, and his tomb was discovered in 1983. It has colored frescoes in the funerary chamber and is larger than most tombs from the time. I also remember fighting with Maria because I'd taken a brochure for the museum in French, and instead of using Ultralingua (an English-to-French/French-to-English app), I'd ask Mom for translations and wouldn't let Maria read it. Well, I did, but more like "I am sitting here reading. You may read over my shoulder but if you remove this brochure from my hands there will be dire consequences *glares menacingly from corner of eye*." This part was actually written while consulting my pink French brochure.

Cold Indian Fog

So we’ve been in India for 15 days and I still haven’t seen a honey badger. At this point, I am fully prepared to put them in the “Unicorn, Yeti, and the Like” category.

Ahem.

So we started India off with the sparklingly clean, large, modern airport in New Delhi, and then we scampered off to the..., um..., dusty..., loud..., noisy..., um..., well, we went off to the rest of New Delhi which was nothing similar. Then we reached our huge castle of an apartment and flicked through TV channels in a state of utter and complete bliss.

Our first touristic destination was Qutub Minar, where a total of 56 people took pictures with us. We even got our own personal stalker who followed us for at least an hour and even waited as we inquired as to the cost for using the WC. How... nice.

The next day we went clothes shopping and we bought two punjabis: one for me and one for Maria, two saris: one for Mom, one for Maria, and for $20 bought three [clip-on] noserings. Afterwards we went to Jantar Mantar, which looked like a giant skate park. Such a shame skateboards were not allowed (or maybe they are. I didn’t check. But I seriously doubt the Indian military would want me to skate all over their national monuments).

Then we went to Jama Masjid, which is the biggest mosque in Old Delhi. Everywhere were children running and playing and I had a hell of a time trying to photograph them all. The mosque itself remined me a bit of the Himeji Palace in Kyoto, mostly because it was so bare and empty, but beautifully so.

We then went to the Red Fort, and it took a while for us to understand this is not the Red Fort from Jodhaa Akbar. Odd.

The next day we went to the Lotus Temple, of the Bahai Faith. It was shaped like a huge, closed, white lotus and it was ridiculously echo-y inside, to the point where Ioan and I were almost physically restraining ourselves from screaming at the top of our lungs. This, of course, would have deafened any normal mortal, as even the slightest breath echoed a thousand times, but Ioan and I are not normal.

We are...

...ridiculous.

Sadly enough, we did not scream. After all, they had very nicely asked to please not make noise inside the temple, and I had been very annoyed with all the schoolboys who were not respecting this. And I think I would’ve given everyone there a heart attack. And I don’t want that kind of blood on my hands... mouth... whatever...

After the Lotus Temple we went to the Humayun’s tomb. There, we saw a couple who both had huge fancy cameras and would both take the same exact pictures a million different ways at the same time. Theories abound as to why, but I’m pretty sure they’re competing against each other.

Eventually we visited a rather large museum full to the brim with schoolchildren on visit. They were all very friendly and very happily said hello, waved, shook hands, asked my name, pinched my cheek... Mostly it was girls, but the little boys liked to say hi too. There were some older guys (late teens, early twenties...) who asked for pictures with me, and when I saw the crowd gathering with their cameras out, I quickly said, “Oh, my family’s gone. Good-bye!” and ran.

(Running is good.)

After the museum we went to the India Gate, which was sort of an Indian Arc de Triumph, but taller and less interesting. And more crowded. I personally prefer the Romanian one, but this one was nice too.

The next day we left for Agra and spent a day at Fatehpur Sikri, and met Alison, a California girl who was spending Christmas with her family in India. We talked, took pictures and exchanged emails, then went our seperate ways. Ioan’s and mine went towards a dog drinking from a pool, and quite a few pictures were taken of that. Later, while editing, I decided to try something that Ivan Andreevich, a photographer I quite like, did, which is to rotate a picture so that the reflection is on top: http://IvanAndreevich.deviantart.com/#/d4jbzw0

The next day was Maria’s birthday, and we woke up ridiculously early to see the Taj Mahal and experience cold, Indian fog firsthand. We met Heidi and Brandon, who had spent some time in Romania and had a short conversation with Heidi in Romanian, then we left for the Baby Taj, which was the building that inspired the Taj Mahal. I don’t see the resemblance.

We wandered around and took pictures, then we went to the Yamuna River and took pictures of the Taj Mahal off in the distance (what little we could see of it). I was more interested in a passing herd of goats than in the foggy palace, and there was where I directed my attention.

We also went to the Agra Fort, which is from Jodhaa Akbar, and had fun exploring and recognizing things.

“Look! That’s where the rabbits are!” Maria pointed out excitedly.

“Rabbits?!!” I turned around quickly. “Where?!”

“Over there! Remember? How she was playing with the rabbits?”

“Oh yeah...”

After the Agra Fort, we went back to the Taj Mahal to try and actually see it this time. We could, which was lucky, but then Dad and I got seperated from Mom, Maria, and Ioan. This was incredibly unfortunate, because we had just found a family of dogs playing in the grass, and Mom had the camera. We managed to find her in time to take photos of them, and then we enjoyed the rest of the Taj before going home to do our own seperate activities. Mine was reading The Lincoln Lawyer, a very good book from only a few years ago, which is better than the library that I have built up on my iTouch. This library is on the app FreeBooks, which lets you download books for free. Unfortunately for my brain*, these are all pre-1923.

*When reading, I tend to think like the book or act like the main character. So reading old books kinda turns me into a freak.

The next day we went to the train station to get to New Delhi, but it was delayed for three hours. So instead we payed a driver to take us to the New Delhi airport where we ate Pizza Hut and rushed to make our plane... to Goa.

Guitars & Nepal

blog: 1. (noun) a personal website or web page on which an individual records opinions, links to other sites, etc., on a regular basis. 2. (verb) add new material to or regularly update a blog.

Well, that was helpful. I still don’t know how to blog.

Anyways, y’all didn’t get a blogpost on Nepal from me. So sorry about that. I like to blame lack of computer due to selfish parents, but then again, I’m biased.

Nepal in one word: Phantasmagorical (I swear to you I did not make that word up).

Nepal in more words: gorgeous. Great. Loud. Noisy. Fascinating. Colorful. Ridiculously interesting. Great temples. Cool people. Epic clothes. Fun.

All in all, I loved Nepal. I loved seeing the temples (did not love reading up on them beforehand, though), and I loved seeing the clothes, and, sadly enough, I loved walking by the guitar store and nearly bursting into tears*. Our hotel was right outside a school, and I actually liked hearing all the kids screaming and laughing outside (I didn’t like the kid upstairs, though, who, according to Mom, was playing with a hammer). The only part I didn’t like were the vaccinations, as I do not, in general, like vaccinations.

*This is the part where I start moaning in regret. The things I miss most from home are my piano and guitar. I’ve been studying piano since I was six, and have been avoiding it religiously ever since my first lesson. Guitar, however, I’ve only been studying since I was eleven, and avoided just as religiously until this summer, when I started to play it much more often. But now that I’ve gone and there is no way for me to play them (Apps are not adequate replacements), I’d like to go home and spend a ridiculously huge amount of time just playing**.

**Of course not “just playing”! I have compositions to compose! Accompaniments to arrange!

Oh God I sound like Maria.

Ahem. Anyways, I’ve been informed that blogposts don’t have to be a million words long. Just 500 is OK. So, I’m just going to talk about Chitwan, Nepal, which was the most epickingest part of Nepal (I didn’t make that word up either. Your spellcheck, however, will disagree).

To reach Chitwan from Kathmandu, a bus must be taken. The road will occasionally have bumps, but it’s mostly a smooth ride. After many hours, Chitwan is reached. We get to Sapana Lodge, which is beautiful and bright, and are given the welcome drink, which is delicious. Naran, the manager, comes up to us to discuss rooms (we’d originally booked two, but they had an overbooking problem and he wanted to know if we were willing to have just one big room instead), program (if we want to go to the village, through the jungle, bird-watching, canooing, etc.), prices, etc. We go to our one big room and quickly acquaint ourselves with three little girls and an even littler boy. I cannot remember their names for the life of me, but they were very sweet and would kiss us, hug us, put flowers in our hair, and ask for pens, hairties, money, candy, and my crucifix. The pens we needed and didn’t give, the hairtie I wouldn’t have minded giving if it hadn’t been my only purple one (sobs into handkerchief), candy I did not have, and my crucifix was mine, and, considering how possessive I can be of my things, I’m surprised they escaped unscathed (I think it was the cuteness factor). And as for the money, before we left the US, I took out all the cash from my wallet ($6) and put it in one of the many pockets from my Scottevest, which was what I’d been wearing when we met the children. As they were putting flowers in our hair, it occurred to Maria that she and Mom needed hairties (of which I was in possession). The hairties were in the same pocket as the money. Later, as I was putting the hairties away, one of the girls stuck her hand in my pocket and came out with the cash. She gave one to each of them and kept one for herself, then gave me the remaining two dollars. They hugged me and left. Since then, I have not carried cash longer than necessary.

That evening we went to a Tharu village not that far from the lodge and we met with more children. They asked us our names and we asked them theirs, and some brought us flowers. One of the little boys took to taking dramatic poses and shouting, “ILENA!”* at the top of his lungs. Pretty soon all the kids where shouting my name and by the time we left the village, I had my hands and my hair full of flowers.

*Meeting non-Romanians that can pronounce my name properly is just short of astounding, and results in having that non-Romanian reaching a very high level of respect in my eyes (so far it’s just Nick). For those who can’t say my name, Ilena/Alana is [just barely] acceptable. Nicknames are suitable.

On the way back from the village I ceremoniously dropped the flowers on the Grandmother River and watched them float away. I kept the little boy’s purple flower in my hair, though.

After dinner there was a Tharu stick dance demonstration. It was pretty much indescribable. It was like martial arts a bit, but still dance. It reminded me a bit of the hora, which is a traditional Romanian dance, mostly because of the dancing around in a circle, I guess, and probably the white outfits. After they showed us the harvest dance, the fire dance, the war dance, and more—there was one last dance in which they asked us to join in. I failed worse than snowman with a hairdryer, but GOLDARNIT I HAD FUN.

The first full day in Chitwan was spent like so: a lovely elephant ride through the jungle, where we saw trees, leaves, plants, and occasionally even (gasp!!!) animals. It was lovely, so long as you ignored the elephant driver as he beat the poor elephant with his stick, but besides that it was gorgeous. Then, after the elephant riding, we went elephant washing. It was very wet. But it was amazing! The elephant is so huge and so rough, but so soft and loving... I can’t believe that such a huge animal, one which could easily overcome an unarmed human, puts up with the sort of treatment it receives from its handler. Not all handlers are bad, though. As we were walking into the jungle for the elephant ride, we passed a handler and his elephant. He was sitting on the elephant’s neck, eating crackers, then the elephant would then reach up with his trunk and would receive a cracker.

After the washing, we lazed around in the room, attempted to connect to internet, and in Maria’s case, swung in hammocks, until the evening where we took a canoe ride to the elephant breeding center, which, unlike the Beijing Zoo, did not have cages, but was no less saddening.

The next day, Ioan and Dad were going to go bird-watching, but Ioan had developed a fever from the Typhoid shot, and so stayed home, to his infinite sadness. Mom stayed in the room with him as Maria and I played badmington with Jamal our waiter, Paras the assistant cook, and another waiter. Then Dad came back from bird-watching and it was Maria and Jamal vs. Dad and I. They won, but only because the wind was on their side. Then Dad and Jamal faced off and Jamal won again. I played a bit of football soccer with Jamal as Maria played more badminton, and then we went back to our room.

Later, I was writing outside as Jamal was drying the glasses. One thing that I’d noticed about him was that he liked to sing, but, unfortunately for me, he sang quietly. So I asked him what he was singing.

“Nepali love song,” he said.

“Oh. Will you sing it for me?” I asked, being the insatiably curious one that I am.

“Nooooo,” he said, embarrassed. “What about you, do you sing?”

“Well, um, yeah. You know. A bit.”

“Sing something for me,” he said, making encouraging gestures.

“Oh, okay.” I said. “I like to ride with a jungle-machine repair man. Na na na na na na na na na... He was high on individualism. I’ve never been there but the brochure looks nice... Jump in, let’s go. Lay back, enjoy the show. Everybody gets high, everybody gets low. These are the days when anything goes. Everyday is a winding road... I get a little bit closer. Everyday is a na na sigh... I get a little bit closer, I’m feeling fine.” (In my defense, I don’t really know this song. It was just stuck in my head since the elephant ride.)

Jamal clapped, complimented my voice, and asked for another. The result was “Fearless” by Taylor Swift. He said I sang like this boy, he didn’t know the name... The waiter from earlier came over with his cellphone and they found the singer, so I came over and listened to one of Justin Bieber’s earlier singles. Is it okay to be told you sing like Justin Bieber if you’re a girl? Dad’s bird-watching guide came over too and they asked me to sing more. I brought out my iTouch and sang some of my own lyrics. They recorded me, took pictures and video, and added their compliments to Jamal’s. Almost thirty feet over, the director, Dhruba, heard me and shouted that my voice was beautiful and that he thought someone was playing a CD. Then he said the most beautiful thing that I had ever heard in my whole entire life: his friend had a guitar, and they could bring it over tonight. Naturally, my reaction was, “A guitar?!! Where?!! When?!! Can I have it now? Can I keep it?” but instead I just said, “Really? Thanks!” (how unoriginal).

All throughout dinner, everyone was coming up to me saying that, sorry, the friend is late, but he is coming and we can play around the campfire after dinner. Then, when the friend arrived and the food was eaten, they ushered me to the campfire and I played.

And then, the worst possible thing happened: I forgot all the chords.

Naturally not the lyrics. Lyrics can be sung in the shower and at the top of one’s lungs in empty hotel rooms. But chords require guitars (or guitar apps). But I’d forgotten to copy the chords to my songs somewhere other than in notebooks. Which happened to be in a big, plastic box. Beneath my bed. At home.

(Lucky me, I know exactly which notebook. It’s green, spiral-bound, has 70 sheets, cost about ten cents, and has “Thirteen” written in black ink on the cover. The chords are on the last page of “At a Gas Station”, which is in the middle of the notebook.)

Even luckier, I still remembered the chords to my favorite song I’d written, “Last Time (The Rain Falls)”, “Na Na Na (Campfire Song)” also by me, and “I Love You” by Avril Lavigne. The guitarist friend played more songs, mostly Nepali songs, but also Pink Floyd. At one point he asked me who my favorite singers were, to which I quite naturally said Guns N’ Roses.

“Do you know ‘Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door’?” he asked.

The answer was a yes, so he played it and I sang along. Later we also sang my all-time favorite, “Don’t Cry”, which I forgot the lyrics to.

Of course, I was not the only one singing. Mom sang a song about a man who meets a wolf, to whom he says, “Don’t eat me, wait for my wife.” The wife comes along and the man says, “You can eat me or my wife, better yet, eat my mother-in-law!” Another of the guests who’d heard me singing the day before sang a song like “Just look on the bright side of life...” All in all, we had the most lovely time around the campfire, singing and guitar-playing. I hated leaving the next day, but while waiting for the parents to get in the jeep to get to the bus, Maria and I started planning.

“When I come back here,” I said, “I’m bringing Lydia and Ingrid.”

“I’m bringing Helen.” Said Maria. “Oh, but I have to take her to France first.”

“Maybe I should bring Michael?” I asked.

“Why?”

“Um, because it’s Michael, and he’s sweet and fun and hilarious?”

“Yeah, but still.”

Tibet Quickie

Previously on Survivor:

• we went to Tibet
• where we met our guide, Tsewang,
• whose name means “long life”
• who is the type of girl to stop traffic
• not just because she’s pretty
• but mostly because she literally stops traffic so we can cross the street to reach our hotel
• or, as she (and everyone else, apparently) says, “hotle”.
• and she gave us each a long white scarf to welcome us.
• it did not keep us warm very well
• but it was very pretty
• we visited the Dalai Lama’s palace
• both of them
• because

Blogging China

Hey there.

Ever since I was a kid and watched Mulan for the first time, I have wanted to visit China. I was obsessed with China. My family even sometimes jokes about me being half-Chinese because of my love of rice and Chinese food, and my above-average ability with chopsticks (in comparison to the average, non-Chinese-food eating caucasian). For years, I loved China and everything Chinese.

As I grew up, though, my love for China was quickly transferred to Japan via Studio Ghibli. Of course, I still love Mulan, but that's just one movie. Studio Ghibli has nineteen full-length movies (only thirteen of which we've seen. Don't worry, though—this will soon be rectified), two of which are being released next year.

However, I have already discussed the inherent awesomeness of Ghibli, and so I must now return to discussing China.

Even though, for the past few years, my interest in China has much decreased, this doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed myself here. Sure, I think people could do a bit less spitting and learn that "public bathroom" doesn't mean that their toddlers can crap in public, but that's just the culture. Changing this would be like introducing an American teenager to a belt—he wouldn't understand why he'd need it.

In Beijing, the first thing we saw was the airport. The next thing we saw was the zoo. While there, Dad only wanted to see the pandas. I preferred the big cats. Both were entirely unsatisfactory, as was the zoo in general. The pandas were cute, but boring. One was sleeping, one was walking around with a popped basketball. Cute, but boring.

The big cats were even worse. There was a building with cages, and in one was a white bengal tiger, in another was a male lion. The tiger simply lay there while the lion stalked up and down the cage. Later we saw that there was another tiger in an outdoor enclosure, and there was another enclosure with some more lions. Naturally, we also saw some other animals, the cutest being the nocturnal ones, and we also saw the lesser panda. We climbed on some elephant statues (since we are so egotistical, naturally we climbed the biggest one. This was not kind to my vertigo) and then quickly made our exit.

The reasons for the zoos unsatisfactoriness are these: the zoo, like the parts of China that I've seen, was dirty. I don't know what it is about China that makes it seem so dirty. I mean, yeah, it's got litter, just like Bucharest and NYC, but I'm thinking it's the colors. It's just got these dirty colors, and add that with the litter, the whole thing seems dirty. Or maybe the reason China seems so dirty is because we visited it after Japan, which was ridiculously clean.

Another reason why I didn't like the zoo: I don't actually like zoos.

"BUT WHY?" You wail, beating me senseless with brochures from various zoological gardens. "WHY DO YOU NOT LIKE SEEING ALL THE PRETTIFUL ANIMALS IN THEIR CAGES?"

…um… because they're in cages?

You might argue that animals are savage, dumb beasts that will eat humans, and you may even show me many YouTube videos with polar bears eating defenseless tourists. My argument is that there are "DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS" signs for a reason. Perhaps that polar bear saw the tourist and assumed it had food, and attacked it.

Score: Ileana 1, You 0.

"Okay, then," you say, rolling up your sleeves as you prepare my death by fluffy leopard souvenirs, "but if we don't have zoos, then all these animals will go extinct, because they don't have any natural habitat."

…

…wait for it…

…

Ding.

Score: Ileana 2, You 0.

Now please go harrass the government about animal rights while I finish this blog.

Besides the Beijing Zoo, we went to the Lama Temple, which was very interesting. I liked seeing all the Buddhas, especially the ones with the skulls. I went through this phase, as a kid, where I was obsessed with all things creepy and evil, and all I wanted to wear involved black and skulls. Thankfully, I'm [mostly] over that, but not enough to not like the Buddhas with skulls more than the Buddhas without. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go Obliviate myself and forget my childhood…

We also saw the Summer Palace, which was very beautiful. At one point, me, Ioan, Maria, and Dad climbed this really steep hill. Behind us was this couple, who, after seeing Ioan charge up the hill, the girl decided to do it too. Then all six of us were climbing. At one point, the guy dropped his camera, and he had to go all the way back down to get it. When he finally reached it, he put the battery back in, took a picture, then happily turned around to us on the hill, made a thumbs-up sign, and shouted the Chinese equivalent for "IT WORKS!!!"

Later, we reached these huge stones that we had fun climbing on, and we saw the couple again. Apparently, the girl had bought herself a panda hat since the last time we saw her. I borrowed the camera and went up to them, then asked if I could take a picture.

Here is the picture of two chinese visitors

Later, I went back to Maria and sat with her on a big rock. At one point, I turned my head and saw a guy in a purple coat taking pictures.

Me: "I think that guy's taking pictures of us."

Maria: "Yeah?"

He realized we were on to him and gave us a thumbs-up sign. We jumped down and asked to see the pictures, which he happily showed. Then he waved good-bye and moved along.

We also spent a day on the Great Wall, and it wasn't actually that bad. It was much easier than the workouts our instructors from karate made us do when they were less than satisfied with us, or when they just felt like they needed to hear us complain about "OW! THE BURN! IT BURNS!!!"

Finally, at the end of the day, we reached the toboggan, where Ioan and I were impatiently waiting for the rest of the family, and shouting at them to hurry up.

Dad: "Relax. It's not gonna close for another half hour. Stop telling me to hurry up!"

Me: "NO WAY! I CLIMBED THE GREAT WALL FOR THIS SLIDE, THERE'S NO WAY I'M GOING TO RELAX!"

It was an epic slide. They gave us these little sleds with a brake/accelerator, then let us go. I had brilliant fun— there was no one behind me or in front of me. If I wanted to stop in the middle (something which was not allowed, but hey, no-one was watching), then I could, and if I wanted to charge ahead at full speed, then there was nothing to stop me.

And then… I met her.

Okay, okay, she had a kid. But she could've gone at least a bit faster.

Then Ioan caught up, and he was not pleased with how slow I was going. Then Maria caught up to him, but she didn't really much have an issue, nor did Mom or Dad.

The slide ended… not fast enough. As long as there was no-one in front of me, I wanted it to go on forever. But when I met her, I wanted it to end… to end my misery… the slow crawl I'd been forced to… why was it not over…?

(My horse-riding instructor was very much correct in nicknaming me "Speed Demon".)

The next day we stayed home, and we later met up with our grandparents and our dad's aunt/godmother (no she is not a fairy). We went to the Forbidden City together with them and their guide Ken, and later we saw a Chinese Opera.

Chinese Opera is not like European Opera. In a European Opera or Ballet, if you see two people dancing together, or singing together, and these people are young and of the opposite sex, you know that they are in love and the story is about them, even if there are no words or, if there are, they are in a foreign tongue. However, in this Chinese Opera, when I saw the main characer dancing with a beautiful girl, I naturally assumed that, because they were young and of the opposite sex, they were in love, and the story would end with their suicides.

Insert Derisive, But-I-Know-Better Laughter Here.

First of all, there was only one song with lyrics in the entire thing (or maybe there were two, we showed up late). Mostly, the… ah… "opera"… was a mixture between kung fu and dance. This is the most epic mixture since ice cream. Second: the beautiful young girl the MC was dancing with was a figment of his imagination that distracted him from his duties as a Buddhist monk. The story was about how he became a hardened warrior, overcame his weakness for his fantasy woman, and became the head monk at the temple where he served.

The opera seemed much too short, even if it was about an hour and a half. Even though operas, for me, come hand-in-hand with a gag reflex*, this opera did not have a "Giselle a murit!"** reaction. In fact, I was quite sad for the ending.

*This is because my grandmother loves the ballet and the opera. More often than not, when visiting Romania we end up going to one of these. This was much more frequent when I was younger, had a very short attention span, and was incredibly hyper. Sitting through an opera in a foreign language was out of the question, and even though I loved playing ballerina, watching Giselle or Copelia was incredibly boring. However, my attitude towards operas was made more positive when I watched "Figaro's Wedding", and was completely turned around with "Notre Dame de Paris".

What? You assumed I was a cool, sexy lady? Thank you. You are mistaken. I am a total dork. Anyone who disagrees shall be Imperiused, Cruciated, and then have Rictumsempra performed on them.

**"Giselle a murit" is Romanian for "Giselle has died!" which was what I happily exclaimed to my other grandmother when we saw her after the ballet. At first, my mother had been worried that I would not react well to the protagonist's death, but this was pointless. I wasn't even paying attention.

The best part of Beijing, in my opinion, was the Peking duck. You may think that duck tastes "just like chicken", and you may be right or wrong. But duck is much better than chicken, even if it is ridiculously expensive. I loved going to the [unbelievably expensive] restaurant and eating the [400 yuan] ducks, which I described as "ratza din paradis", that is, "the duck from heaven", which was rather accurate.

We also saw the Temple of Heaven before leaving Beijing for Xi'an, where we met up again with our grandparents and great-aunt. In Xi'an, we took a bus to meet up with our grandparents at the terracotta warriors, and on the bus there were three men, who asked very nicely in broken english, what it was that Ioan was holding.

"This is an iPod," Dad replied.

"iPhone 5?" They asked.

"No, no, iPod." Dad explained.

They were confused. "iPad?"

"No," the man sitting next to Ioan said. "This is an iPad. That's an iTouch."

"Ohhhhh…. iTouch…."

A few moments later they asked if they could hold the iTouch. There was much confusion as to whether or not to let them see it, as Dad had quite nicely explained at the Beijing airport that everyone in China was trying to con us or rob us or do something equally nice. Finally, he explained he wanted to compare his phone with the iTouch, and, after comparing them for a few seconds, gave it back to Ioan.

I spent most of the busride looking out the window and listening to Guns N' Roses, and every now and then I'd see what everyone else was doing. Mom and Dad would sometimes read something off of their iPad, or Mom would sleep and Dad would read off the iPhone; Maria would work on her own iTouch, or sleep; and Ioan was playing chess with his neighbor.

We reached the terracotta warriors, where we met up with our grandparents and their new guide. His style was different from Ken's. Ken would very nicely explain about what we were visiting, would make sure you understand, and would ask if you wanted to take a picture when there was a nice spot to take a picture. This guide, though, would speak very rapidly in English, then say, "Okay, let's meet up over there in an hour, okay?" and leave. Ken would walk you through everything, explaining about this or that.

Also at the terracotta warriors, we met up with the man from the bus, the one Ioan played chess with. I'd asked Ioan what his name was, but Ioan only said, "Uh… I didn't catch it. I think it was something like Joses."

To which I replied, "You mean Joseph?"

"No," said Ioan. "Joses."

"…Moses?"

"No. Joses."

Later, Maria asked him, "What was the guy's name, from the bus?"

"I think he said Joses."

"Joseph?" She asked.

"NO. HE SAID JOSES."

"Well, if you see him again, ask him."

Luckily, we did see him again. It turns out he was from South Africa and he was in Xi'an for his job, which was as a computer consultant. We talked a bit about travelling and gave him our card, and no one remembered to ask his name.

The terracotta warriors, in my opinion, look much better than on TV. This contradicts my grandmother's opinion, but that's not my fault. Of course, on TV you actually get to see them, and not have to push and shove for a decent view, but on TV you see what they want you to see, not what you decide to look at.

Also with our grandparents, we saw the wall that surrounds Xi'an, and we had ice cream there. After saying goodbye to our grandparents and their guide, we found a play area, where there were Chinese games. Our favorite was the shuttlecock, which Dad later bought in Xining. They also had hula hoops, little metal hoops with sticks, where the object of the game was to run with the hoop by using the stick, an hour-glass shaped thing that you were supposed to toss and catch with two handles connected by a thread, and a jumprope. After we played with the shuttlecock, we chose different games to play with. Mom, Maria and Ioan had loads of fun with the hoop-and-stick, but I couldn't get it at all. Maria played by herself with the shuttlecock for a bit and Ioan played with the hourglass thingey. I did jumprope, and was very excited in only making two mistakes in the entire game. I'm not sure what the game is called, we just call it "the jumprope game", but you play by going through different levels. There are eleven in total: levels one through ten, and then level "zero", which is the hardest.

Eventually we went home, and took the train to Xining, where we had the absolute loveliest time doing nothing. This was partially because Mom had a bad cold. When we were done with Xining, we took a train to Lhasa, Tibet. The very day we went to the train station, Ioan and I caught Mom's cold. We're [mostly] over it now, thankfully, and now we have the stomach to eat (could it be?) food, so that's good. I had fun, indulging myself in sickness. Even if I felt like [censored].

FUNNY STORIES RELATED HERE:

I'm too lazy to put these in order, where they actually belong in the blog. In fact, in my opinion, the above blog is entirely useless as I'm just repeating what everyone else has said.

The Shampoo Incidents, Part One and Two:

Apparently, washing your clothes with shampoo is much better than washing them with soap.

Well. You know those soap-things at public bathrooms? That was what our shampoo came in at our hotels in Beijing and Xi'an. However, only Beijing is relevent here.

Maria, wanting nothing but the best for her clothes, went to the shampoo-dispenser-thing and tried to get some shampoo. For some reason, as her attempts were failing, she managed to push upwards and the whole thing came off.

"ILEANA…."

"NO."

"HELP…?"

"…WHAT."

"Come here for a second."

"WHAT IS IT." (We're lazy children, you must know this.)

"I can't explain it. You have to come here!"

This goes on. Finally, Ioan and I go to the bathroom, where there is shampoo on the walls and floor. Maria is holding the dispenser, trying to put it back. In the other hand are her socks.

We stare at the situation. And then, I finally say:

"How the * can you not * explain this? Just * say that the * thing came off the * wall and you need our * help to * put it back! Seriously! How * stupid are you?"

"Sorry… very stupid?"

"Seriously! If I was in your * situation, I'd * say 'The * thing came off the * wall, get your a$$ here and help to * fix it!' "

"Okay… I'll say that next time."

This went on (it was all good-natured, of course, and said with a smile and laughter), but mostly because I loved pwning† Maria.

† http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pwn

The next night, Ioan was washing his socks when…

"Guys…?"

"What?"

"You know how Maria broke the shampoo yesterday night?"

"…Yeah…"

"Well, um, so did I."

"WHAT?" *insert crazy laughter*

Ioan explained that he'd also accidentally pushed it upwards, like he shouldn't have, but he managed to catch it… upside down. Now all the shampoo was quickly going down the drain. We had to work fast. We grabbed our dirty underwear and unwashed socks and mopped up what we could, then we all did laundry. This was actually quite good for me, as I am not a laundry person.

Vermin

Apparently, Maria has explained this in her blog. This I did not know because I actually read it (though this must be done, and impossibly soon), but because my friend Gabriel casually brought it up in conversation yesterday night.

(I'm so proud of him—he's actually reading this blog! Yaaaaaaay….)

And since Maria has apparently already told you, I'll just relate the conversation, even if it was in Tibet, because it was that funny. (It has been edited for general understanding)

GABRIEL: I heard you saw a bed bug and you screamed so loud you scared all people in the block.

ME: It was a millipede. IT WAS CRAWLING ON MY LEG. I know you're a dude, but you'd still say at least "HOLY $@!$&@"

GABRIEL: Nahh.

ME: Also, there was a mouse in the other hotel room.

GABRIEL: If I'd have been with you… in the WORST of cases I'd take one of your closest clothes and attack the intruder.

ME: My hero. But I ate a scorpion and we have it on camera *insert boss face here*

And this one is actually from Tibet today, when I was feeling almost as good as before I was sick:

Mom: "We're going to eat now."

Me: "Do we have an option?"

Mom: "Yes. You can not eat tonight, and eat tomorrow morning."

Me: *thinks about it* "Bye!! Have fun!!"

My Basic Thoughts on Japan:

*still not sure how to blog. This is very good.

**oh wait no it's not.

What did I think of Japan? I thought it was awesome, even if I couldn't buy any of the awesome clothes I kept seeing EVERYWHERE and I didn't see any Vocaloids (what is a Vocaloid you ask? It is awesome. YouTube either "Love is War" or "Last Night Good Night" by Hatsune Miku. I'd link you to it, but YouTube happens to be illegal in China. If you want to find out about Vocaloids the boring way, though, you can Wikipedia it).

I liked Kyoto more than Tokyo. For one thing, it was less city-like. It had less sky-scrapers and industrial-looking buildings and was less crowded. Also, the food was cheaper. And there were no fish markets (DARN YOU EVIL FISH MARKETS FULL OF CUTE LITTLE SQUIDS THAT SHOULD BE ALIVE AND SWIMMING. YOU SHOULD BE ILLEGAL. SEA FOOD SHOULD STAY IN THE SEA).

***moving on.

I also liked Tokyo more than Kyoto (even if it had fish markets). In Tokyo, there was the Museu d'Arte Ghibli, and it was…

…well, you know how it's Christmas, and you finally got that one thing you've been waiting for for your whole entire life and you are so happy because without that one toy you will never ever breathe again and you will live life like a ressurected zombie?

Yeah. It was like that. Times one million thousand bajillion.

But awesomer.

Like, there was this THING! This spinny carousel thing, but you couldn't ride it because it was too small and also behind glass. It span backwards, but there were these blinky lights things that made it look like it was going forward, so when it was spinning and blinking, it looked like there were flying bats and running cat-buses and little Totoros climbing up trees and Satsuki riding a unicycle and then Mei and Satsuki skipping rope with Totoro and he had an umbrella and OMG IT WAS AWESOME YOU HAVE TO GO SEE IT.

And then there were these animated shorts: there was this movie about evolution. It started with these bacterias that evolved into fish that evolved into amphibians into lizards into dinosaurs. Then, the two dinosaurs started racing, and one evolved into a T-Rex, and the other into a little tricerotops. Then the tricerotops turned into this rat sort of thing and jumped into a pond, while the T-Rex turned into a pterodactyl, and flew away. Then the rat came out of the water and turned into a mongoose, into a monkey, then an ape, and then a man, where he climbed a mountain, met his true love, and they got married. It was very, very cute (and also free to watch as many times as you want. I wanted to watch it many, many times).

****Maybe I'm babbling. If I am, I apologize. You, too, would be babbling if you had to explain Museu d'Arte Ghibli. There is a spell on that building: it makes it too awesome to describe.

Everywhere in the museum you could see things from the movies (yay!!! But in the the store, there was no Laputan necklace. *insert many tears here* *then insert awkward confession of geekiness here*), like stain-glass windows and murals with the characters, and in the garden, you could see the Laputan robot and the stone from Castle in the Sky (you have not seen this movie? YOU ARE BANISHED FROM THIS BLOG UNTIL YOU SEE THIS MOVIE. AND EVERY OTHER MOVIE. LIKE HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE AND SPIRITED AWAY. IN FACT, I SHALL GO WATCH SPIRITED AWAY RIGHT NOW INSTEAD OF WRITING THIS BLOG BECAUSE IT IS THAT AWESOME. YOU ARE VERY JEALOUS).

I loved seeing my favorite characters' sketches, the original ideas, and the process Mr. Miyazaki went through to draw them. Like Kiki, from Kiki's Delivery Service, instead of having short hair, she was first drawn with longer hair in different styles. And Howl's Moving Castle: Sophie was first drawn with red hair, like in the book (I personally did not like the book. It was not exactly like the movie).†

†Howl's Moving Castle is a book written by Diana Wynne Jones and first published in 1986. In 2004, Studio Ghibli released an animated version of the book, which was very different from the book. Major diffences include Sophie in general, Martha's non-existence in the movie, the Witch of the Wastes, and the plot.

More than seeing my favorite characters' original designs, I loved seeing the beautiful pictures Mr. Miyazaki painted and drew: Laputa, the club and hotel from Porco Rosso, Howl's Castle, but mostly Laputa. The detail and skill in those drawings is enough to make you die of old age before you can fully comprehend it. Especially in the drawings of Howl's Castle.

I was super excited when I found out about Mr. Miyazaki's version of The Borrowers, and even more super excited to find out that it comes out in the US theaters in February 2012—so I will most definitely be seeing it then (what? Ask Mom's permission? Don't make me laugh—she'll watch it the second it comes out).

There was also this movie theater, and we watched a fifteen-minute movie about kindergardeners playing at sea. Then, suddenly, they weren't playing anymore, but actually were at sea! They met a whale, braved a storm, and came home triumphant. Afterwards, we walked out of the theater and saw a group of students in uniform queue up to watch the next showing.

Dad: "Oh my God! White people! Ileana, go ask them where they're from!"

Me: "I can't, they just walked into the theater."

[Enter Maria]

Maria: "They're British, I heard their accents."

Still, I wanted to find out to find out where they were from, and spent the rest of the day with my eyes peeled for them. Finally, just before we left, I saw the students again. I go up to one who isn't doing anything and seems less likely to eat me.

Me: Hi there.

Him: Hello.

Me: Where you from?

Him: I'm from Romania—

[At this point a few more students come up, which is unfortunate for them, because everything after this is in Romanian]

Me: I'M FROM ROMANIA TOO!! Daddy, Daddy, look, he's from Romania!

Dad: You're from Romania?

Him: Yes, I'm an exchange student. They [the students] are from England. *to me* How did you recognize me?

My answer to this was a shrug. I may not be certifiably insane, but I am most definitely crazy. HOWEVER, this does not mean I am crazy enough to say to an absolute stranger that half the reason I picked him was because he was the cutest boy there (also, he wasn't doing anything). This would require Confidence Pants. I only have one pair of pants on this trip.

(I should've taken the Confidence Pants)

After we said our goodbyes to the [cute] Romanian exchange student, we went back to the rest of the family, where we excitedly told them about the past two minutes.

The other museums were not so interesting, or anywhere near the level of awesome that Museu d'Arte Ghibli has, but they were pretty cool, actually.

…Y'know, once you ignore the fact that everyone was going at a totally different pace, so you'd go faster, thinking you're the last one, and then it turns out that everyone is behind you. And also ignore how sleepy you are.

I have no clue what the museum was called, but in it you could see traditional Japanese clothing, armor, weapons, pottery, and the same exact type of seats as in The New York Museum of Art.

I know, right? So relevant to Japan. And to what I was saying.

I think, at this point, I must stop writing. Because it is my belief that this sorry attempt at a blogpost is ruining the internet connection and is not letting me watched Spirited Away.

WHY, CHINA? WHY MUST YOU BE SO CRUEL TO ME? WHY IS THERE NO FACEBOOK? WHY IS THERE NO YOUTUBE? WHY WILL YOU NOT LET ME WATCH MY JAPANESE ANIMES IN PEACE?

***LEGAL STUFF IS BEING PUT HERE***

IF YOUR TIME HAS BEEN WASTED READING THIS BLOG INSTEAD OF DOING THINGS THAT YOU'RE ACTUALLY SUPPOSED TO BE DOING, THEN THAT IS NOT MY FAULT AND IS ACTUALLY YOURS. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SUE ME OVER MY CONFUSION ON BLOGGING, THEN I SERIOUSLY SUGGEST YOU SEE A PSYCHIATRIST. ANY LAWSUITS FILED AGAINST ME SHALL FAIL MISERABLY, BECAUSE I HAVE THE POWER TO HARNESS SUNSHINE, LOLLIPOPS, AND RAINBOWS, AND USE THEM TO MY DISCRETION.

THAT IS ALL.

ALSO, DON'T SUE ME, OR I SHALL USE SUNSHINE, LOLLIPOPS, AND RAINBOWS AGAINST YOU. COMPLETE WITH SONG AND DANCE.

(This happens to be a threat.)