Bells

My grandparents owned a home in rural southern Idaho just in the heart of cattle country. Their back fence bordered goats on one side and cows on the other. Every so often my cousins and I would wake to the sound of clanking bells and my grandmother's holler, "Bill, there's a cow loose in the yard!" followed by a masculine stern warning of "go on now cow," followed by some mooing. Our final morning in Yubeng Village I woke out of a deep slumber to similar clanking cow bells and had hopped to my feet before realizing my toes wouldn't be touching the familiar pink carpet of my grandparents home but instead would land on the ice cold warped wooden floors of a hostel in rural China. It was so cold in fact that I could see my own breath and there were ice crystals frozen to the window sill. I looked outside and saw a belled yak calmly grazing on frosted ferns and bushes. Above him, the foothills of Kawa Karpo's wife and crown were covered with a dusting of snow. The pigs and the chickens that had roamed freely the day before were all cuddled together in the space below the main house providing warmth to each other and to the people resting above. Winter had arrived in the valley, and with it, our departure from Yubeng Village.

But I Digress

This is Mike. I post this picture to illustrate that Mike is tall. Very tall. Like basketball tall. Much taller than most people we met in China. Kids seriously used him as monkey bars more than once. He also has a loud voice and infectious laugh that would always draw attention. There was no place we could go in China that people didn't instantly recognize him as an American. And when he would whip out his pidgin Chinese, people would start chatting with him on almost any subject. He received marriage proposals, solicitous offers, sage wisdom, free advice, and often directions, but my favorite was a conversation he had with one government official on tour of Yubeng Village. The official looked at Mike and said "So, you are an American?" When Mike responded affirmatively, the official laughed and said, "I like Americans. American people are very good. American economy is very good. American government? Not so good." Right on. It just makes me think of Crooked Trail's moto: "I love my country, I just think we should start seeing other people."

I Probably Should Have Mentioned It....

When last I wrote, fifty-five government officials had just arrived in Yubeng Village. Wet and saddle sore, the officials moved straight into the main lodge to warm themselves by the fire, have a bite, have a drink, and most importantly, to have a little entertainment. We waived to them from under the awning of our hostel and then pondered what to do. In true Mountaineers "alpine start" spirit, Gail, Doug, James, and Percy all headed early to bed in preparation for our departure from Yubeng Village the following morning. Roy headed to the head, and Mike, Spring, and Tao momentarily excused themselves to the quiet of their room. Since everyone else had settled down, I pulled out my book, my headlamp, and most importantly, my Rolling Stones, and snuggled under my worn blanket. By the time I was settled, Percy was already asleep, headlamp still on. Roy sauntered in and we joked that Percy could sleep through anything. I make this point to illustrate that Roy was in the mood for small talk but failed to articulate that at that very moment, there was a HUGE party going on at the main lodge and that Mike, Spring, and Tao were dancing it up with the villagers and the government officials AND that we were invited! I'm not bitter. Not at all. But Roy, I was the one who used up all the hot water before your last shower. Sorry. I probably should have mentioned it.

The Government Officials

There is no road between Deqin and Yubeng Village and the Yubeng Villagers want it to stay that way. Their home is the last stop on the way to the Mystic Waterfall, a trek made by tens of thousands a year. If a road is established to their town then people could simply day hike to the Waterfall and drive back to Deqin at night and the hospitality business, from hostels to guides to horse rentals, in Yubeng Village would be in serious jeopardy.

On our last day in Yubeng Village our hosts were very busy preparing a large feast. They appologized for our simple breakfast but said they had to save most of their good food for the Government Officials who were due to arrive that night. They were being sent to survey the area and make a determination about the feasibility of building a road. Though the Villagers were obviously not in support, they were expected to entertain the Officials in grand style.

As the rain poured down all day for the first time in a week the Villagers winked at each other knowing that the Government Officials were riding unprotected on horseback through the storm. Kawa Karpo was clearly expressing his displeasure.

As evening drew near, the Villagers dressed in their traditional clothing and waited at the entrance of the hostel with warm shaojiu. We were watching the pageant from the nearby shelter of our awning. When it became apparent that the Government Officals were running late, the Villagers all ran over to stay dry under the eaves with us. At some point, one of them had the crazy idea to share their shaojiu with us! They tried to give a bit to Gail who took a small sip, made a face, and then backed away. Mike had about the same response. As an alumnus of one of Playboy Magazine's top party schools, I am proud to say I shot my shaojiu like a pro. Go Vandals!

Blog Interrupted.....

This is a true story.... On Friday April 13th I turned 30. Now, I'm not generally a superstitious person, but the year I turned 13 (also on Friday the 13th) 13 people people I knew died. Dana, upon hearing this, decided that climbing with me this year would be precarious. Then she started to litter me with four leaf clovers (she has a knack for finding them). Unfortunately, the four leaf clovers have not been charm enough to ward off foul omens and on June 4th I broke a mirror, a doubly inauspicious event because not only did it foretell seven years of bad luck, but in China, the number 4 is terribly unlucky. I mention this in advance of telling you about the events that have transpired in the month since June 4th and which subsequently made blogging impossible.

1. My Dad was diagnosed with cancer, had surgery within a week, and will be starting chemo very soon. (On the positive side, he looks amazing, has an incredible spirit, and I am in total awe of his shear force of will);

2. I was left completely alone in the office to manage 5000 criminal defendants. (In the past three years my little unit has been responsible for recovering over $178,000,000.00 for victims of crime, a success which directly contributed to Congress fully funding our office this year and yet "there isn't enough money in the budget to replace" two of my agents who retired in December. Then, this June, my one remaining agent ended up in the hospital for a month and my boss left for Greece);

3. Our car broke down;

4. Our plumbing crapped out twice (literally); and

5. I had a surprise meeting with the AG.

On the positive side, our garden is exploding raspberries (I have made 14 pints of jam so far, have three gallons of berries in our freezer, and I have been picking about a gallon a night!). Maybe the four leaf clovers are allowing me to channel my Grandfather's green thumb. Our corn is already three feet tall, the beans are ready to pull, the zucchini is blooming, the radishes are going to seed, the apples are ripening, the gooseberries are plump, and everything else (except the peppers) are thriving (Grandpa was never a fan of peppers).

The Definition of a Bad Day

Had I known I was supposed to meet the AG today I would have worn something more appropriate, like a "Climbers for Kerry" T-Shirt.

At least I was wearing the right expression.

Pancakes in Paradise

On our second day in Yubeng Village Roy broke out a bag of Krusteez pancake mix, improvised a skillet, and made pancakes for everyone. Our gracious hosts even offered a little jam to spread on the cakes. Eating them with chopsticks in our rice bowls was a little tricky, but having a little treat from home was well worth it. Though our hosts tried our pancakes and thought they tasted fine, they much preferred their own mantou, a steamed bun made from flour, water, yeast, and a pinch of sugar. In other areas the buns are stuffed with ham, fried, and coated with onion or sesame seeds, but in Deqin County plain buns are the norm. And I have to say, I am not a fan of the mantou. They are dense, tasteless, and gluey. It is like eating an undercooked highly processed gas station bagel and is guaranteed digest as slowly as a wad of Hubba Bubba. But since every breakfast also came with an amazing assortment of scrambled eggs, rice pourage, and the most delicious ham on the planet I could diplomatically pass on the mantou.

Strange Bedfellows

The moment Percy walked into our room at the Mystic Waterfall Hostel in Yubeng Village she stuffed all our food in a sack and hung it from a rusty nail on the wall. Very mater-a-factly Percy stated, "could be rats" and left it at that. As a frequent backpacker I was all too familiar with treeing my food from bears, mountain goats, deer, and marmots, so her actions seemed so reasonable and obvious that neither of us thought to mention it to our fellow travelers.

That night, as Percy, Roy, and I each dimmed our headlamps and snuggled into our respective cots we were startled by an alarm piercing through the disjointed paper thin walls. "Something just ran over my head!!!" Doug called from the next room. "Ohh...It just ran over my feet!" cried Gail. For the next hour Percy, Roy, and I, tried to stifle our laughter as Doug, Gail, and James tried to trap the rat scurrying about their room. The traps were remarkably sophisticated given our location, resources, and the fact that they were constructed in near complete darkness, but the trio was ultimately unsuccessful in their efforts to trap the rat and had to co-exist with it for three long nights.

Personally, I think the rat chose their room intentionally, not for the bananas they left on the counter, but because the rat in the Chinese Zodiac is emblematic of each of Doug, Gail, and James' good traits. Being the first sign of the Chinese Zodiac, rats are leaders, pioneers and conquerors. They are charming, passionate, charismatic, practical and hardworking. Rat people are endowed with great leadership skills and are perhaps the most organized and systematic of the twelve signs. Intelligent and cunning at the same time, rats are highly ambitious and strong-willed people. They are energetic and versatile and can usually find their way around obstacles, and adapt to various environments easily. That sounds about right.

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept through the slats of the single-paned walls (for it is in Yubeng Village that our scene lies), rattling along the rooftops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the head lamps that struggled against the darkness. Through one of the obscurest quarters of China, and among haunts little loved by the gentlemen of the police, a group, evidently of the lowest order, was wending there way. Together they gathered, furtively sharing a flask (of hot water), to learn from the masters the music and lyrics of an ancient tune. Though much of the song's meaning was obscured from the group, for they spoke little of the language in which it was sung, they knew that it resonated in the deep places of the heart where beauty, sorrow, and hope reside. When the time came for each to leave the masters' room and wend their way through the cold and lonely storm back to their rickety beds trussed by worn blankets and dusty pillows, they quietly hummed the tune's final verse, "and I will tell them proudly that this is my home."

The lyrics have been preserved as follows:

(1) lan lan de tien shawn-bye yuen peow

(2) bye-yuen sha-mien ma er paw

(3) tsao yuen shawn^shung chee boo luoha-de-tai yong

(4) yao-shur yoh-ren bye wen wua

(5) jua sheh shen-mua dee fong

(6) wua jyo jiao-ow-de gow sue ta-ah jua-sheh-wua-de goo shawn

P.S. You've got to love Baron Edward Bulwer-Lytton for creating the "dark and stormy night" writing style. Did you know there is actually a contest each year sponsored by San Jose State University to determine the worst "dark and stormy night" stories in existence? I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Garyupa Nunnery

The Tibetan word for pilgrimage, neykhor, means "to circle around a sacred place," which is fitting since the goal of a pilgrimage is less about reaching a particular destination and more about journeying to transcend the attachments and habits that restrict our awareness.

So, upon our return from the Mystic Waterfall, Spring led us to a Nunnery, well hidden on the side of the mountain and tucked away from the less aware, to circle not only around but through a shrine to Kawa Karpo. The rock alter was nearly polished smooth by the millions of hands and knees that squeezed through the granite tube that allowed us to come full circle three times around the shrine.

As we left the Nunnery we all remarked reverently at the life the nuns there must lead. They are literally on the edge of no and where. The trail to their home is long and a bit precarious. Bringing in supplies could not be easy. They sleep and cook in a small wooden six foot by six foot box adjacent to the temple. Their days revolve around prayer, meditation, tending the shrine, and assisting pilgrims. Their needs are few and wants even less. Ascetic though their life may be, I left feeling a bit envious of their situation. They are the first women I have ever met who could truly call themselves free.

The Mystic Waterfall

The Mystic Waterfall is a bit of a mystery. There is no way to climb to the top (and I know the climbers among you are skeptical, but seriously, Tommy Caldwell would have trouble) so there is no way to know where the water is coming from. Sometimes it runs, sometimes it doesn't. It isn't dependant on the rain, it isn't in the downstream path of the melting glacier, it is presumably too high for a spring, it is simply a mystery and I hope it stays that way.

We each took our turn getting wet in the falls to receive the blessing of Kawa Karpo and then hung our prayer flags together. Prayer flags have been hung in the area for thousands of years. They actually pre-date Buddhism! Each of the five colored prayer flags represent one primary element: fire, earth, water, air, and space. Shamanistic healers used them in ceremonies to balance out the elements in a patient's body to promote physical and mental health. As Buddhism entered the consciousness of the Tibetan people, they began to add prayers, sutras, mantras, and symbols to the shamanistic flags. We hung health and longevity flags for our friends and family and I was particularly happy to find a bomber pinch around which to tie my end!

Pomegranates in Greece

After arriving at the Mystic Waterfall we all shared a pomegranate given to Tao by a monk at the start of our pilgrimage. I'm not certain of its symbolism in Tibetan culture, but I know that the Greeks served pomegranates as offerings to the spirits of the dead and to honor the compassionate nature of the god Dionysus. Given that we had traveled 7000 miles to build memorial shrines for our ancestors, hang prayer flags for the health of our families, and to bathe in the waters blessed by a compassionate god, I couldn't think of a better symbolic gesture than to eat a pomegranate, except maybe to have toasted with a pomegranate martini. I wonder how shaojiu would work as a mixer. Next time I vow to find out.

Blame Him

This is Alberto Gonzales. He is both my boss and the bane of my existence. Please blame him for the lack of recent blogs. I do.

Tellie Part 2

Here is a link to Tellie's Dogster Page. There are several more pictures, a few videos, and her history (she was about to be put to sleep when the rescue agency stepped in)! My favorite video is of her chasing her tail, but in the video below you can actually see her happy doggy face.

http://www.dogster.com/dogs/506012/in/stroll/#diary

Land of our Ancestors

Rounding a bend on the trail to the Mystic Waterfall we encountered a stream bed littered with small piles of stones. Spring and Tao explained that each formation was built in honor of a family member who had passed away. We all stopped to build our own monuments. It was definitely an emotional experience for me. I started to build one for both Josh's family and my own. Then I knocked it down and built one for our combined family instead. It didn't seem right to separate the two. Then I built one in honor of my friend's families. Victoria's grandmother and great aunt, Dana's uncle, Sue's parents. After they were all done we stood together holding hands. Roy, Percy and Gail each said a blessing. I'm not very good at articulating my feelings in any sentimental way so I just pictured all of our loved ones sitting in deck chairs smoking cigars, drinking red wine, and discussing how the hell they ended up in China.

Tellie

This is Tellie. We adopted her today. She is a one year old Australian Cattle Dog and she is totally charming. We met her with her foster parents at Green Lake and while she was skittish with us at first, after a handful of treats and a good walk she started to warm up. Her foster parents followed us home to make sure our house was a good fit for Tellie. She liked the house, but she loved the yard. For a very athletic dog she is surprisingly dainty. We were playing fetch and the ball landed in our garden and she was very careful not to step on the strawberry plants. She doesn't seem phased by other dogs, she doesn't bark much, she is very bright and is eager to please. Welcome home Tellie!

Subconscious Colorado

On our first full day in Yubeng Village we set out on our hike to the Mystic Waterfall. Spring told us that pilgrims often sing while making their way down the trail so Roy, Percy, and I each crooned the first thing that came to mind. Sadly, the first thing that popped into my mind was,

"You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when you're sittin at the table.
There'll be time enough for countin when the dealins done."

Yes, the first thing I thought of was Kenny Rodgers. And I don't really like Kenny Rodgers. Seven years ago I was stuck in a blizzard on the most precarious road in Colorado with my friend Shelly Lee. She found comfort in Kenny and she was driving so I was subject to seven hours of the Gambler, Endless Love, I Will Always Love You, and Lady on a continuous loop. At least she spared me Elvira. Ever since I've gone out of my way to avoid anything associated with Kenny Rodgers, including his restaurant chain and the Seinfeld episode about his restaurant chain. And yet, he still managed to pop in to my subconscious in the very least likely place on earth. Bastard.

Yellow is the Color of Happiness

Working our way through the mud strewn streets of Yubeng Village we encountered a festive scene. At the edge of town in a courtyard temple the villagers were all dressed in costume, many colored flags were flying, children were playing, men were dancing, and women were singing. An honest to goodness living Buddha was there to deliver blessings! We dropped our packs at the adjacent hostel and wandered into the temple courtyard just in time for the ceremony to commence. Money was donated, rice was distributed, prayers were said, blessings given, and liquor poured. Only Percy, Spring, Tao, and Roy had the stamina to stay for hours and to consume copious quantities of shaojiu, a very strong local rice wine, but they were rewarded for their tenacity by the living Buddha with a yellow prayer shawl symbolizing wisdom, learning, optimism, intuition, faith, well-being, friendship, happiness, and sociability. I don't think the Buddha could have chosen a more perfect color.

View from Nazong Pass

I only have a few short seconds to blog but I wanted to share this 20 second video of the view from the top of Nazong Pass. If you press pause after 9 seconds you will see Yubeng Village in the valley below and a hanging glacier that is very near the Mystic Waterfall, the primary destination of the Inner Circle Pilgrimage. I believe the mountains, from right to left, are Kawa Karpo's General, his Crown, and his beautiful wife.

Taking a Step Back

In a previous post, I mentioned that the road from Shangri-la to Deqin was a real roller coaster road. Here is documented proof. This is a short video taken on that same road in March, 2007. Towards the end of the video you can see how precarious and high up the road really was. As an added bonus you can hear a beautiful traditional Tibetan song.

The Decent

Rounding the summit of Nazong Pass, Yubeng Village finally came into view. I had traveled 7000 miles in seven days to reach this small community in the foothills of the Himalaya and I was almost punch drunk with giddiness to see it. In my haste to reach the Village, I foolishly joined Mike on the decent. He seemed almost as anxious as I was to get there and was very nearly running down the trail past horses and pilgrims while listening to physics lectures on tape. Even though Mike's legs were twice as long as mine, I told myself that I could keep up. I was sure I had more experience on much nastier and steeper terrain and I had fully functioning knees, a rarity among most of my peers. Unfortunately, I miscalculated one key factor in my plan... Mike's intense motivation to find a place to sleep. He later said he was kept up the night before by a fellow traveler's snoring, but I'm not entirely sure that I buy it. It is just as or more likely that Mike met some new friends at the Hot Springs and never quite made it back to bed. At any rate, I was soon left in the dust. Literally. Shortly after I lost sight of Mike I went ass over tea kettle down the trail. Fortunately, the only witnesses to the event were both very helpful and, better yet, didn't speak a word of English. In the end, I made it to Yubeng Village in one very happy piece and Mike got his nap. Spring took this picture of Mike about five minutes after we arrived in Yubeng Village.

Happy Birthday Spring!

The Macroeconomics of Alvin the Chipmunk

For years I've tried to reach a zen like mental state when hiking or climbing. The point is to experience every moment for the moment in and of itself and not to really over analyze it. I've only reached that point once while hiking in the Olympics and the moment only lasted as long as it took me to realize that I'd finally reached it. I just can't seem to quiet my mind long enough to peacefully take in my surroundings without abstract thoughts creeping in. In six degrees of separation I can literally go from "cute chipmunk" to "macroeconomics." It's a sickness. Hiking on the Inner Circle Pilgrimage Trail though, I finally found something that works. The Rolling Stones. I was so excited that I listened to "You Can't Always Get What You Want" over and over again. When I reached the summit I shared my epiphany with Roy and Mike. Roy shared my enthusiasm, but Mike was less impressed. Here is a photo of Mike listening to the song for the first time. Maybe I should have started him on "Sympathy for the Devil."FYI:
(1) Cute chipmunk
(2) "Christmas, Don't Be Late" as sung by Alvin and the Chipmunks
(3) Christmas gift commercialism
(4) Consumer debt
(5) Economic downturn
(6) Macroeconomics

White Horses Have Attitude

Like most things in China, the trail between the Hot Springs and Yubeng Village is a dichotomy. It is spectacularly beautiful, moving from an arid plateau to a rain forest of rhododendrons and firs. But it is also littered with tons of trash. Pilgrims have been traveling along the trail for hundreds of years, but generally anything they left behind, like food waste, paper, or fiber materials, would biodegrade naturally. However, with ever increasing tourism and the prevalence of plastic water bottles, candy wrappers, and cigarettes butts, the trash just keeps piling up. Tao, stunned by the waste, and Percy, stunned after being knocked down a hillside by a cantankerous white horse, began to pick up as much of the trash as they could see. The response by other pilgrims was mixed. Some seemed shocked that Tao and Percy would condescend to do trail maintenance, some were pleased and said thank you, and others started to pick up bits of trash as well. Spring and Tao have since started an initiative to establish an anti-liter campaign on the inner pilgrimage circle.

No Sleep Tonight

I will get back to the China adventure tomorrow but first I want to make a plug for ilike.com, a website that lets you listen and download tons of free music by emerging garage bands of every genre. I may never sleep again.

Persecuted by Howie Mandell

Howie Mandell is inescapable. After a day of stress, chaos, and ridiculous amounts of food, I wanted nothing more than to pirate a wifi signal and send out a few e-mails, but the only place in this house that I can get a connection happens to be the same room where everyone wants to watch "Deal or No Deal." I can accept that today of all days my family could use a diversion like a silly TV game show, however, I think I would take Bob Saget's "1 verses 100" over Howie Mandell's "Deal or No Deal" any day. At least Bob Saget can tell a good joke. "A guy walks into a talent agent and says, 'I have this family act....'" You've got to love the Aristocrats.

Sad News

My grandmother passed away this morning. She was such a tough and fiery woman I guess I never really believed she would let death get the best of her. This is the only picture I have where she is actually smiling. Usually she just can't be bothered to placate the picture taker. This was taken just before she and my grandfather decided to sneak out of their nursing home and move back into their house without telling anyone. I think that is why she was smiling. In case you were wondering, I'm pretty sure she is the source of my subversive streak. I miss her already.

I love you grandma!

Finally!

My old friend and college roommate, Bob, finally started his own blog. As a writer himself, and an instigator of philosophical discussions ranging from the teleological existence of God to the various merits of mac n' cheese, I for one, can't wait to read it.
Here are my off the top five memories of Bob:
1. He told me I looked like a rat, but in a good way;
2. He was the primary reason I got an A in critical thinking, so I'm not sure how he got a B. Oh right, he was reading cowboy poetry at coffee shops;
3. He was the primary reason I got a B in Geology (who cares what gneiss is when your roommate is reading cowboy poetry at coffee shops);
4. He respected the "seat down" rule;
5. He is and always has been an outstanding human being.

Anyway, here is a link to Bob's blog for all who are interested.
http://viciousbichir.blogspot.com/

TMI (or too much information)

The second we walked into the courtyard of the Xidang Hot Springs Guest House, the traditional starting point on the Inner Circle pilgrimage trail, Percy took my arm and said, "remember kid, what happens on the rope stays on the rope." This is a phrase Percy uses on all her climbing trips as a Seattle Mountaineers climb leader. It usually means that if someone has a minor meltdown on a climb you help them through it and don't discuss it later. At the Hot Springs however, I took it to mean, "you go ahead and pee in a bottle if you need to. The outhouse is beyond gross."

The Guest House at Xidang Hot Springs was our first taste of hostels yet to come. Communal rooms without lights, heat, or running water, hard cots with well used bedding, drafty windows, floors, and doors, but it was definitely better than sleeping in a tent at a climbers parking lot (Blue Lake Trail Head anyone?). In fact, I had one of the best nights sleep of my life at the Xidang Hot Springs. The next morning we were going to start our hike into Yubeng Village. While I might have been totally out of my element in big cities like Beijing and Lijiang, hiking to a small village felt as natural to me as breathing.

Yak Butter Tea

"Do you know what's going on?" I whispered to Mike as we piled out of our little van in the middle of no and where. Speaking rapidly in Chinese, Spring and one of our distinguished drivers took off down a barely discernible foot path. "I think we're following" Mike said with a little laugh. Up and down we hiked over billy goat trails while Spring and our driver showed pictures to passersby. Eventually we came upon a farm house with a child laying in the middle of the lane. "Well this is it!" Spring exclaimed. I smiled and nodded, hoping to hide my confusion. "This is the family that took me in when I started my pilgrimage last year!"

The family waved us in and graciously starting preparing food while we toured the house. By rural standards it was quite large, with a separate room for sleeping and a large living area with a central hearth and a wooden floor. On the roof was an area for threshing soy beans, a task that requires a great deal of skill. A few of us took a shot, but I think we only managed to squish, not separate, the soy beans. When we returned to the living room, the lady of house set out a pile of apples, steamed buns, and poured our first round of yak butter tea. Like hoppy beer, yak butter tea is definitely an acquired taste. Basically, it is a big churn of green tea mixed with butter made from tangy yak's milk and a whole lot of salt.

While we were sharing our meal, Spring asked the family where their oldest son, who had taken Spring through the necessary rites to begin her pilgrimage, happened to be. They told her he was studying at the Puli School! All of our jaws dropped and we pulled out our cameras to share pictures of the students with them.

Little Black

"Did you just say real hot chocolate?" I asked incredulously, "with cows milk, sugar, cocoa powder, and without a Swiss Miss on the label?" Roy smiled mischievously, "and they have banana pancakes too" he said. "I think you've been drinking too much pijiu" I retorted. "Come on. You and Percy really need to see this place! The Migratory Bird is great!" Roy exclaimed before leaving Percy and I to decide if we really wanted to leave the warmth of our heated bed pads. Ultimately curiosity got the better of us and we popped out of our rooms bundled in down to find the much lauded Migratory Bird Bar. We rounded a corner and entered an unassuming hole in the wall only to be greeted by "Little Black" the cutest puppy on the planet. With his kitten sisters, Little Black is the ambassador of the Migratory Bird Bar. The place, despite it's initial humble appearance, is less bar and more Swiss chalet. Diana Krall and Lyle Lovett croon over the stereo system, the views are more stellar than even the North Cascades (a bold statement I know), there are comfortable chairs, artwork covering the walls, and yes, really outstanding hot chocolate and banana pancakes. The Migratory Bird Bar might just be my favorite place on earth. And as an added bonus, the proprietor, Chiaoyang, has been a tireless advocate for the Puli School. A website for the Migratory Bird Bar is below. It's all in Chinese but the pictures are pretty.
http://www.jhnsky.com/

Sookie Stackhouse

The agonizing wait is finally over. Sookie Stackhouse, the beautiful and telepathic redneck waitress from rural Bon Temps Louisiana, is once again ready to fight, flee, or fall in love with the werewolves, vampires, and shape-shifters that inhabit the southern United States. Will she and Vampire Bill, her first love and former confederate solider, reunite? Will the dashing werewolf Alcide Heveraux ever forgive her for the death of his father? What will become of her brother now that he has been bitten by an inbred clan of were people? Inquiring minds want to know.

Common Courtesy

Watch out.... A "Danalike" rant follows:

A co-worker who just moved in next door has an adorable three year old who is too sick to go to daycare today. Rather than hire a babysitter, my co-worker brought the child into the office. As cute and quiet as the child is, it doesn't negate the fact that the kid is coughing in the hall, touching doorknob with snotty hands, and generally being a plague bearer. No one else in the office seems to be bothered by this. They are giving the child cough drops, toys, and videos to watch while I'm clinging to my bottle of Purel like I was back in Yubeng Village eating lunch above a pig sty. Is it just me, or is bringing a sick child to work a blatant violation of common courtesy?

I had better go. The kid is blowing me kisses and it's time for my hourly dose of Emergen-C.