meh

http://6thfloor.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/12/30/talking-bout-meh-generation/?partner=rss&emc=rss

Uh oh, Jackson's of the "Meh" generation? :)

-Larry

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wf_IIbT8HGk&feature=g-vrec&context=G2ff1d5fRVAAAAAAAAAQ

ok, i might regret forwarding this on to you younger ones, but i thought
the climbing technique was educational.... :)

-Dad

Scooby-Doo is educational!

http://boingboing.net/2011/12/02/scooby-doo-is-veggie-tales-for.html

Wow. I knew it was worth watching all that scooby when I was a kid.

-Larry

Climbing Mt. Ventoux

Mt. Ventoux is a mountain in Provence, France with a road to the peak. The Tour de France used it for years in decades past, and most recently in 2009. It is a mountain climbing stage categorized in difficulty as "beyond categorization"  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hors_Catégorie).  When I was looking for something to add to my trip with Susan and Dixie (who only needed me as a rental car driver for one week), this stood out. Susan needed me starting on Saturday, so I scheduled Friday for my attempt on Ventoux.

This was to be my annual physical goal -- the event that I have to prepare for far in advance to ensure I don't destroy my body attempting it. Unfortunately, I had too much fun playing squash, and I really don't enjoy long hours of riding alone on the busy roads around home. I figured: Ventoux is only the elevation gain of Enumclaw to Sunrise (5000'), that's less than half of RAMROD's total, pièce de gateau n'est-ce pas?

Only a few days before I was to fly to Provence and attempt the climb, I decide to look for some gps tracked maps of the route by others. That's when I finally realized that a) this ride isn't so bad, it's only 13 miles long! And b) that means it has the toughest altitude climb of RAMROD, but it has only a tenth of the distance. Err... Doesn't that mean the slope is just crazy steep?

I might have been a bit relieved to see that thunderstorms were predicted on that special Friday. I could imagine explaining it: "Oh, my attempt on Ventoux? I was all psyched, but thunderstorms after the 50mph Mistral winds forced me to cancel...". There really were mistral winds on Wednesday. Ask Susan or Dixie who lived through the Mistral of 2011 and considered printing T shirts for it. Nonetheless, I packed my biking gear, in case weather.com was wrong.

We had found a great deal on Icelandic Air for Seattle to Paris. I guess it was because no one wanted to fly anywhere near that volcano that erupted in 2010 (Eyjafjallajokull). I thought, how could a geothermal event like that happen the next year? Well... This time, the other Icelandic volcano, that erupted for the 2 weeks before Susan and Dixie flew out, wasn't as severe. Maybe someone was trying to look out for my knees....

Flying into Paris gave us an excuse to use planes, trains and automobiles during the trip. S & D would take the TGV train to Aix to meet up with their guided tour group. I would take an open jaw on Air France from Paris to Marseille. Then I would drive a rental to the Tour de France stage start town of Bedoin. Due to this itinerary complexity, we had to book all these legs separately. I was very happy to learn that I could checkin my luggage from Seattle, through two long layovers, all the way to Marseille. At least that is what Icelandic air told me. Even the lost baggage rep in Marseille didn't think it was unusual or improper. But alas, my bag with all my biking gear was left in Paris. He says: maybe my luggage could be delivered to my hotel by Friday morning. At least I have now learned two useful things about lost baggage by airlines. First, Air France will reimburse me 100 euros for any necessities I have to buy immediately (not so for some other airlines). Second, there is an Internet based tracking system for lost baggage; kinda like the UPS package tracking system.

I was keeping in touch by email with Susan, and updated her in my Bedoin hotel when I finally arrived late Thursday night. Susan had been trying to convince me to drive an hour through tight & curvy mountain passes to have dinner with her really cool tour group. I had declined because of the extra 2 hrs of driving before my climbing attempt. She could see mt. Ventoux from her hotel room even though she was in a town an hour away, with a small mountain range in between. I wonder if that impressed her a bit.... Now hearing about my situation, her very excellent tour guide/operator invited me to join them for a special winery tour & lunch Provence-style. Not fair, appealing to my stomach, btw. The thunderstorm weather forecasts were not good for Friday afternoon or all day Saturday. So, Friday morning was best for my ride. I didn't want to see if carbon fiber bikes could attract electricity on an exposed mountain top. The baggage tracking website told me on Friday morning that my luggage was supposed to arrive on the 9:30am flight. Hmm, it took me 1.5hrs to drive from the airport via the super speedway. After triple confirming the times couldn't line up, I caved in and agreed to join the tour for lunch, abandoning my dream of summitting this cat 1+ climb.

Well, not completely. I made sure the airline could reach the hotel manager's cell phone, and deliver my luggage to their usually locked doors. I also checked availability with one of the bike rental shops. I got the impression they weren't having as much business as normal with all the rain that morning. I told myself that there was still a chance I could ride on Saturday morning, if the rain stops (I had not packed any rain biking gear), and if my luggage actually arrives.

Then I drove off into the French countryside with a half charged gps to find the winery. It was a wonderful Provence experience. Great wine, food, and several new friends made me decide to join them for a hike, and then the fabulous tour-closing French dinner that I had previously declined. I figured I could finish dinner at 9pm, and then drive back to my hotel by 10 where I hoped my luggage would be (the online luggage tracker did say it was delivered late that afternoon).

Well, as you can guess, it was kinda hard to drive dark curvy narrow mountain passes after an amazing French dinner. It didn't help that my gps battery life was near the end, and therefore I only turned it on just before the next scheduled turn. Did I mention I checked-in the car charging cable in my luggage? [Don't do that.] I got back to my lonely hotel at 11pm.

It helps sometimes that I don't need much sleep. At 7am Saturday morning, I check two forecasts and one of them says the morning is looking partly sunny, cloudy and rainy at various hours of the morning. Thunderstorms forecasted all afternoon. I ignore the other forecast. Two different hotel managers say I have to check out by eleven. Ok, it is still doable. A permanently installed timing service for anyone that wants bragging rights for the mt. Ventoux course told me the best time up was 1hr 15mins. I figured, I should be able to do it in three hours. Bike rental shops were supposed to open at 8am. If I couldn't make it back in time, then the worst was I'd have to drive back to pick up S&D, wet and cold. I gobble down my hotel breakfast of baguette, yogurt, and croissant, and am ready for the ride at 8am.

My first choice of bike rental shops wasn't open yet. I walk to the next one where the owner just drove up. I follow him around as he unlocks the doors and starts placing merchandise outside. I think he finally sees my urgency when I start helping him move the clothing racks outside. ;)

I don't have a bike reservation, so he sizes me up and we find a bike for me in his warehouse. [Eddie Merckx carbon with a triple crank and a big cassette]. He needs a copy of my driver's license, and can't take my credit card instead. Ok... He puts my pedals on, and lets me ride back to the hotel for my license. The rain starts pouring. I wonder if I can still cancel the rental as I fill my water bottles.

After I hand him my license, I ask if the route up the mountain is as obvious as I imagine. He says yes, especially with the 1000 Belgians riding today for their charity event. Oh? Cool!

The rain has stopped temporarily, as I head up the mountain around 8:15am. At least that's what the big start line clock for the Belgians reads when I pass it half a mile up the road.  Unlike any other long road ride I have ever done, this climb has absolutely no rolling hills and almost no flat elements. I was in the bike's second easiest gear after 3kms. Uh oh. I was in the easiest gear by the 4th km. There were maybe 5 times on the rest of the climb where I could shift up to an easier gear.


It helped a lot to have so many other riders with the same goal. They foreshadowed our presence to all the car drivers. They gave me some idea of my pace. I passed some of them, some of them passed me. They had a lot of supporters lining the course. It didn't feel like I was in the tour de France (that's a unique scene), but there was a lot of positive energy from them. There were also several photographers shooting every rider, and someone would hand out cards to find your photo on the Internet. Maybe they paid the right guy, because the sun came out and stayed out until 6 km from the top.

It turned out to be a glorious day in Provence! Maybe I was amped up on adrenaline from all the days stressing over this ride. Maybe the rain darkened the colors of the fields, and cleaned the air. Maybe it was that golden morning light. This road winds over vineyards and lavender fields. Ah! If only this could be my training road....

The ride was tough for me. I was taking endurolytes to prevent cramping; more when each leg started to cramp (salt and other electrolytes in pill form; really works for me). I was taking ibuprofen to prevent knee pain; more when each knee started to twitch (thankfully, there was only one painful moment for each knee). I was basically riding for two hours on the easiest gear and chainring at around sixty rpm, trying not to let any 10% incline reduce my rpm while watching my form so that I wouldn't hurt my knees.

When I finally escaped the forest and reached the limestone bald top of the mountain, I only had 6 km left. There was a permanent road marker in the shape of a tombstone telling me that the next 6 km had a 6.5% incline. What a relief! This section is the easiest to recognize on TV during the Tour de France. This is where Lance or Contador would be staring their nearest competitor in the eye to show him who could ride through the most pain. The Belgians had set up another of their transponder timing points here. Lots of their supporters were here. There were lots of messages painted on the road; some for superstar riders, and now, some for today's Belgians.

The mountain top was shrouded in fog. So, I couldn't see the famous tower building to gauge my distance to the top. On the other hand, there wasn't a huge amount of wind either. That's lucky for me on Mt. Windy (venteux = windy in French). As I passed the photographers that would document my climb in unfoggy glory in this limestone section, I had to wonder: if I already have the picture of the day, do I really need to go to the top?

Mais bien sûr! The fog was heavy enough to worry me that some car would come up or down too fast and not see me. But, it seems there weren't tourists to the foggy peak today, only Belgian supporters. They had even started to walk down from the peak to see their athletes. That was kind of encouraging, I mean how far could the peak be, if these folks were willing to walk down? I felt pretty energized the rest of the way. I could hear a PA system blaring down from what I guessed was the finish line at the top. When I felt i was directly underneath the PA, I guessed there must only be one more switchback, and I sprinted up the final "wall" and across the Belgians' finish line with a guy that was pacing me earlier.

I couldn't see much in the dense fog. I was trying to make sure this really was the peak and not an early finish line for the Belgians. But I recognized the tower building, and found the peak monument. Yay, I really had summited Ventoux!

I didn't find any public water source, but I had maybe a cup of water left in my bottles. So, down I went. There was a long trail of riders still climbing up. In that way it felt very much like RAMROD: you get to see your place in the pack. My original goal was to make it down slow and safe. I was on a rental bike that I did not double check. It had a shiver when I got up some 30mph. Or, it could have just been me. The rental bike shop owner told me I should put on all the clothes I had for the descent as it was likely to get cold. I had only put on my half fingered bike gloves, that was all I had packed. My legs were cold from the wind, shivering a bit when I stood on the pedals, but my fingers seemed to modulate the brakes fine. I was also watching the time, as my hotel checkout was in less than 30 mins. There were a lot of support vehicles sharing the road with us. Fortunately, they all seemed to be looking for crazy tucked-in descenders like me. About two thirds of the way down, it started to rain slowly. It was only after reaching the last three miles that it started to downpour. But by then, I was ready to pedal, and that kept me warm. I raced back to the hotel to sneak in my room for a hot shower just before 11am checkout! Ahh! 10 minutes later, life was dry, warm and good -- even though it was raining. Soon enough I set out to meet Susan in Bonnieux. I thought of the remaining riders, as the rain turned into a big thunderstorm.

The proper recovery drink in Provence

I have completed a top difficulty Tour de France mountain stage. It was as tough as I imagined, but I surprised myself with my performance. I don't know if I could have reached the summit if it rained on me from the start, or if there weren't 1000 Belgians doing the same route to help pace me, or if I didn't have my riding gear in my luggage. I am very happy I planned this riding event, and even happier I reached my goal. Hopefully, the joy I felt, which motivated this long blog, will inspire my readers to set similarly lofty goals. Ne subis pas!

More interesting facts about this mountain on http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mont_Ventoux

Entry for 2011-04-14 Changting, the First full day, Part 1

The food at the Tseng temple last night was the most, err, challenging, so far. Look, the circular wooden dining tables were covered in a thin red disposible Saran wrap. Everything else though was their typical chopsticks, bowls and plates. That is to say, I had no idea how they washed it. As guests of honor, I couldn't exactly go check out their kitchen first, now could I? As I didn't understand this temple's real utility in their lives, I was only guessing it was some sort of community gathering place. And the way that works at home doesn't exactly give me much confidence in cooking inside one here. The only person serving all the dishes was a single woman. Oh, did I mention three were only men seated on our two tables in the temple? I saw no other women, or kids. It is kinda strange where you cannot bear the thought of asking all the questions you want to because your brain is too tired and pressed by everything going on around you, to think about trying to comprehend their answer.

In Fujian, they love their soups. So, of course, they serve lots of it tonight. I am not quite sure if I have impressed the kind of honor the Tseng family seems to be giving my dad. Later, they show me the plaque about my dad and his immediate family, and how he had contributed significantly to build this temple. They make sure to let me know, There is only other such plaque and place of honor in the temple. It is in the first main room you enter, on the right hand side, immediately left of the huge wall diagram of those who have donated significantly to this temple. All of these plaques are engraved in granite stone. Anyway, this dinner has a corresponding impressiveness to each dish, in quality, exoticness, and quantity.

That is to say that each dish would really scare Susan! I found all the dishes to have great weydow, and were quite exotic to me.

[Actually after writing this, i remembered the lunch table on the way to see the toulou. I think it is telling that I forgot that, because it was certainly scarier at first. I remember how the food five years ago on the way back from the great wall was the typical Chinese tourist food, with metal serving dishes, and gooey soupy dishes cooked for way too long. At this tourist trap which our guide (remember, we found this one by a girl under a sun brella standing by the road) had led us to, turned out to be the home of the tour guide. Who was a Hakka by race/tribe. Oh, did I forget to mention, that I only recently discovered that I am of the Hakka people's? So, our little group of four Tseng's, and the tour guide/restauranteur were all Hakka. The way Songtao ordered lunch for us was by standing next the cook and her display refrigerator with the ingredients. It actually looked fresh. The circular table was wrapped in that red Saran wrap. And the bowl,plate cups were in sealed packages. In the end, the food was way better than the great wall tourist trap, and while I didn't dare to eat much, I didn't feel hungry until dinner. Though now that I think about it, I never had hunger or stomach problems on my whole trip! (typing in incheon!)]

The next morning (thursday the 14th), we were woken by knocking early at our door. We had set our alarms for sleeping in, as we thought we were going to have breakfast with that Tseng scholar, who said he had connections with the hotel owner. We even heard we might have breakfast with the hotel owner! When we answer the door, it's that Tseng scholar, who is a distant cousin of some generations older than us. He's here to take us to breakfast! Err, okay, early by 90minutes. I invite him in wearing my skimpy hotel bathrobe, thinking he's our honored guest who apparently thinks we've been keeping him waiting. So I don't really think he'll stay long as we need to get ready to downstairs. But no, he's here to stay in the hotel room until we go down with him. Wow they really do things differently.

Typical Chinese breakfast. That means fried rice, lots of fried vegetable dishes, various tofu, cookies, cakes, toast, Breakfast Intestines, chicken pork soup with spinach, Yoou tiaou, ex-puffy tsoon yoou bing, a cook was stationed at the soup station, where they could poach your egg, or layer on chinese greens on your soup. There was no omlettes to be had here! Dad loved it. The hotel owner never showed up.

After breakfast, the Tseng scholar takes his leave. Songtao arrives with his cute 4 year old daughter and I get to introduce her to my iPad. Of course that warms her up to me a bit. Xiangching arrives on his motorbike, to help escort us back to his house. He leaves the bike at the hotel, and we squeeze in one car. Eh? Aren't we just going to his house? Why did he need to come to the hotel to squeeze in songtao's car? Songtao might have been gone from Changting a few years but... Anyway.

When we go back to Xiangching's house, there are more fireworks in the daytime! And then finally, we get to relax a bit, and meet the family members.

When I am introduced to someone, usually they think a moment and tell me the generational ranking we have to each other and thus what we call each other. Something like big brother, uncle, first cousin once removed, etc. NEVER, do I hear their names! I don't have to introduce myself using my name, Chinese "shun fuu", or "Larry". When the more familiar ones have to call me by name they usually pronounce my Chinese name as if were "Shamu" the sea world killer whale. I adapt. At least I don't have to memorize all their names at once.

I just realized, some readers may not know what i mean when i say i am of the same generation as another person. It does not refer to our actual age. It refers to the difference in hierarchy on the Tseng family tree dating back 26 generations. My dad was of the 23rd generation. So I am of the 24th. Jackson and Jenna would be of the 25th. Songtao and Xiangching are of the 25th. So, even though songtao and I were both born in 1968, he calls me uncle, and I call him nephew. Err, you should also know that his father is actually the son of the brother of my father. While I am diagramming him, I should mention at same brother of my father is also Xiangching's grandfather. My father had eight brothers, and two sisters. Only one of his brothers produced offspring. We meet dad's last remaining blood sister later today.

I can not keep straight who is who. never mind I am not expected to know their name. I cannot even keep straight what generation they are since generations can Span so many ages. Later dad tells me that when he apologizes and asks someone their specific name they don't answer. It is not part Of any introductions. Only their generation relationship is made clear. Apparently it is just not good manners to have to introduce yourself with their name. When self reintroducing themselves to me they stress the relationship ranking. Call me uncle, or call me big brother, or call me nephew, etc.... Agh! I wonder if this has anything to do with the Chinese sense of self worth. The family/hive is more important than the individual. [tongue in cheek here, I am getting tired.]

Oh, I forgot to mention something important since at first dinner at the ancestral temple. They like to drink. A lot. And it is encouraged by lots of toasts to individuals, especially the guest of honor. Oh, they know my dad being older than almost all of them, and there's a lot, can't keep up, and don't expect him to. So, they make me! My journalling suffers. I am typing this and actually the last two posts before this one on the way home.

Photos of Xiamen

Entry for 2011-04-12 Visiting Xiamen

We found another BreadTalk next to the hotel. The selection is quite limited at 9:30am. Still I find a number of yummy buns or Danishes.

All four of us go visit Xiamen university. Despite a security guard telling there is no parking inside, we go in and park. It's a very scenic campus, that seems built around a man made lake. Dad does not remember any such lake back in his days. There is a big group of uniformed high school students visiting the campus. I guess it is to motivate them to study hard. I later learn how many hours they spend in school.

First year college students all sit in the same classroom and desk for the whole year, teachers come in to teach thei various subjects. So they don't have to take books around, all their books are already in their desk.

We see lots of new buildings, as well as some old buildings that dad remembers. There are a few signs for the century anniversary that the college just celebrated.

Nanputao temple is almost connected to the university. So we visit that too. It has monks studying as well as hordes of tourists and worshippers. There is a pagoda statue that folks are throwing coins into the window orfices. Presumably a wishing well tradition. We see a lion with a ball in its mouth and so Songtao points How the ball is often constructed within the teeth. Xiangching buys a bag full of treats to take home for the family. I wish I thought of that.

We pass a small market with assorted items and I notice the rolled up tshirt tradition is still alive. I think it must just be too cold for the natives to demonstrate this earlier.

We see a space like a playground on the university, but it is filled with wooden gymnastic parallel bars. That must be a sight to see during pe class.

We have Lunch at a Thai Vietnamese restaurant. After parking for lunch, I comment that there is a guy handing tickets out of the parking gate machine. It seems like quite a water of man power to do something a machine is already in place for. Songtao later explains patiently to me that he is the only dude for parking fees. No one at the exit. So he has to manage the fee with some duration variations. Thai Vietnamese is not like the us version. It could be a variation for Chinese tastes. There isn't phad Thai. :(. Still it is yummy, and yet another difference I experienced.

After lunch, we take the ferry to gulangyu Island, where they do not allow any gas vehicles. It's a place for locals to go for relaxing, and perhaps to gawk at the foreigners architecture left there decades ago. The Ferry charges 1rmb for upstairs, which is much less crowded and have seats. It is standing room only downstairs. After we get there, I admit the view back to xiamen is particularly nice. But it seems to have as many people on the island as there were back in Xiamen downtown! The streets are filled with tourist shopping, and surprisingly a number of fresh seafood mongers. When we finally sit down for some tea by the sand beach, we are gouged by the plastic tabled entrepreneurs, and are charged 70rmb for a little bag of cheap tea. Still this island is quite different from how dad remembers. It used to be full of embassies of european nations. There is a piano museum full of pianos left by those embassies.

You cant help but wonder about the cars as we drive around xiamen. There are a few american brands. But mostly japanese cars dominate. Thee are chinese brands, but they are more rare than the american. There are a large number of bmw's, and audi's. There are a very large number of porsche cayennes. The rich got to flaunt it here. Songtao says the rich have so much money they pretty much have to work hard to try to spend it. At least thats how i choose to interpret him.... Numerology is still strongly believed here. License plate numbers considered lucky are very much desired. Songtao would like an Audi Q5. I never see one, lots of late model q7's though.

Perhaps in response to my complaints about the expense of Dinner last night. Of which Songtao again paid for completely. We try going to a Food court above a shopping center. It is the kind where you pay for a card loaded with some yuan. Then you go choose your food with that card, and you get a refund of money off the remainder on the card. It's rather adventurous food to me, though I say i could manage. Dad finds some food that reminds him of local Changting cooking. But in the end, we decide it isn't good enough. Dad tells me later that it must have been my face that said: go somewhere else.

We choose a Ginger duck restaurant that we saw advertised in the elevator up to the food court. It was quite yummy, and frequented by plenty of locals. [as if I could recognize a local.] the restaurant service had one interesting feature. After the waitress took our food order, a Tsingtao girl took our beer order. Apparently, it's an agreement the restaurant has with Tsingtao.

-Larry
[Sent from my iPad]