Worst McFlurry Ever?

As you know, wherever I go, I seek out the McDonalds and sample their McFlurry. I had one the day I got to Tokyo. And it was disappointing. 

So, I found one nearby where I am staying now. Same result. It was small. They served it in a short cup, and did not even fill the cup. They apparently only had one flavor, a weak Oreo crumb. And I do not even think it was a true McFlurry, because they served it to me in less time than it takes to make up and properly whip a McFlurry. So, disappointment all around. Not well done, and not much of it. 

For the record, the best McFlurry was in the financial district in Johannesburg. It was caramel and chocolate bits. We would call it a rolo McFlurry. The next best was a rolo McFlurry someplace in North Carolina. After they made the regular rolo McFlurry they put on extra caramel. And it was warm caramel. 

And, for the record, while Tokyo had the worst McFlurry in my travels, my local Walmart had the worst McFlurry ever. Apparently they had them all made up beforehand then stuck them in a freezer or something. 

Crime against nature. 

More About Toilets

I figured I had seen it all, and done it all, and even felt it all, really,  about toilets when I posted a while back on the subject. 

Then I got to a hostel in Japan. 

Check it out.   

Notice the instructions on the inside of the top seat. One does not usually need those. But one does not usually have a control panel like the one you see at left. 

Here's a close up:

And here are the English instructions on the wall for those who still did not get it:

So, this seat has it all. It was a joy to, uuhhh,  experiment with. 

No more toilet paper, just a gentle spray and away you go. 

BUTT wait, there's more. 

I left Fuji and checked into the Tokyo hostel, and there was even more!!!!! 

In Tokyo, the seat can be warmed, you can make it play a flushing sound, adjust the flow of the water jets. And seriously, I have only been in Tokyo for a few hours.

I don't know what else toilets can do here. 

And you want a sink near your toilet? How's this?

I gotta get back to America. 

On Top of Old Fuji

Made it to the top. Body working well enough. Don't look forward to a couple of days from now when soreness sets in. But I made it. 

Crossing Japan

It was an innocent enough request. 

I asked if he understood English.

 He was twenty something and selling tickets at the station in Yonago.  This is a small town in southwest Japan. I was here after a short train ride from the ferry boat dock. 

So I showed him the address and the name of the train station I wanted to go to. He said it did not exist. Which confirmed what mi Internet research had told me (even though it was right there in the hostel directions!!!

Anyway, we worked at it a while and it turned out that he was going to get me close, and then let another local railroad try to get me there. 

So, I rode a real nice train for a couple of hours, and then had a 45 minute layover before my next train. Great. Enough time to get more money. I had swapped a $20 bill for some yen when I jumped off the boat, but that would not last long. 

 I could not get the two at atm's in the station to work, and there was no money changer. So I went down the street looking for something. Nothing. This after six weeks with three ATM machines on every corner in Russia and even Mongolia. I finally found a bank of three machines. None worked. I went to a bank. Neither of theirs accepted my card. AND they did not change dollars. IN A BANK!!!

I found a hotel (whose ATM would accept none of my three cards) and they directed me across the street to the post office. They had two machines. But neither would talk to me. But, they would change money. 

I had 14 minutes till train time. I was across the square from the station. I handed her the two hundreds. She gave me some forms to fill out. I did my best. But I was sweating so much, and had gotten so sloppy, she wanted me to redo them. I gave up. I grabbed my bucks ( not yen) and ran for the station, where I made my train with four minutes to spare. 

Then three hours on the bullet train and a whole adventure later. 

I did get my money eventually, at a hotel a in Tokyo. But, even here I screwed it up. Turns out I misplaced a decimal point   and got $500 instead of fifty dollars worth of yen. Well, that is a bit understandable after being in two countries with exchange rates of 1000 and 1500 to the dollar. At least the yen is an international currency. Or maybe I'll just spend it. 

Oh, and the guy I asked if he understood English? Judging by the route he took me-- I doubt it. 

On the Toilet

You know, on reading that, maybe I should have said "ABOUT" the toilet.  

Toilets are important to the traveller. Many travelers use them daily. And a careless traveler who neglects the common sense things uses one or more toilets several times an hour. Many of the locals also use them. But travelers always seem to talk about them more. 

I heard one exchange the other day.  

"I can't wait to get back to a clean toilet."

"Yeah," somebody else replied, "and one where can just throw the toilet paper in instead of using that little trash can. "

"I want one that flushes instead of just falls in a hole."

And finally: "I want one you can sit on." 

Fact is, we care a lot. 

I don't have any pictures (on the phone) of the most common toilet I have seen in the outback, but it is basically a six inch wide by eighteen inch gap in the planking of a wooden platform suspended over a hole from three to fifteen or so food deep. 

Many of them had great views. 

Using these toilets for #1 is no big deal, but, really most guys just walk a few feet away from the bus or whatever and skip the whole toilet thing. 

Using a squat toilet for  #2, though takes preparation. First off, you have to check that you have toilet pepper. Then you tie your shoelaces so the laces are not flopping. You make sure all your pants pockets are closed, zipped, etc, your camera case latched, and nothing loose hanging anywhere. If you are wearing long pants, pull them up so nothing is dragging. Check that the money belt around your waist is closed and secure. 

Check around if you are my age. Look for something clean to grab and lean on. Getting up from a full squat can be awkward. 

If it is nighttime, be sure you have your headlamp ready. 

Finally, all secure, maneuver into position and squat. Check that all clothing is out of the way and..., well execute. Then move away from the hole and pull up your drawers. 

Then leave. Quickly. 

The first time I saw a squat toilet, in the Naples train station forty years ago, I thought they were just cheap ways to make a toilet. Subsequently, I have seen tiled, gold inlaid, porcelain, and all sorts of classy squat toilets. Here is a nice one on the boat I am on now. It has plumbing to rinse it, a little faucet to get water to wash the "area" (this explains two things. First, why you do not use toilet paper with a proper squat toilet, and second, why in two thirds of the world you don't eat or shake hands with the left hand. ).

By the way, once you work out the program, squat toilets are often better than sit downs--especially when nobody is cleaning the sit down. In the ideal squat, nothing touches anything except the soles of your shoes. 

They also have sit down toilets on the boat, and nice urinals. However, all the porcelain facilities have these laminated pictures of woman's eyes and some Korean text. Noboby I have asked yet tells me what it says. I think "Be careful and Considerate."

Here is the actual detail if you can read Korean. 

Weird to be looking at. 

The train toilets were all sit downs, and although utilitarian and plain, were kept relatively clean. Every car has a "providinsta" (spelling unknown), a lady who acts as conductor, cleaner, alarm clock, security, and all that. She keeps the toilet well stocked and fairly clean. The bummer, though, is that she locks them up from half an hour before a station stop to half an hour after. And some stops are half an hour long. 

But the amazing thing is that the trains in Russia just dump straight to the ground.  I thought that ended years ago. 

I have lots more to say about toilets. I am a traveller. But boat is getting ready to leave and I have to upload before we go to sea and I lose cell coverage. 

North Korea

We are cruising past North Korea right now. It is a secretive little country. It put up a fog so we cannot get a good picture of it. 

Bye-bye Mother Russia

I am on board the Eastern Dream, a cross between a cruise ship and a ferry. 

I had waited on posting the Vladivostok post, hoping to get a picture of me at the end of the line--some kind of kilometer post saying I had made all 9288 kilometers. But, despite my asking around, there was no such sign. Alas, as I waited in line at immigration to get stamped out, there was a video showing, among other things, a guy standing just in front of that very marker. Too late. 

The Eastern Dream has gorgeous bas reliefs of the sea gods as you enter, carpeting and air conditioning, a friendly, helpful staff ( like as cruise ship) a night club and restaurant, and all. Judy would even like it. Well, except that there are 72 beds in our stateroom. 

Now, hold on there. That sounds worse than it is. They all have a little curtain to cover the bed itself. It should be fine. ( I have not gone looking for the bathroom.  I assume they will have something!)

On reviewing what I wrote before. 

Now that my suite mates have arrived, I note that I am the only one in the neighborhood over fifteen years of age, and the only male. This will be a scream!!!

And-still on edit before posting. I have found the bathroom for the  72 of us. It is worthy of a separate blog entry.   So you will have to wait. 

Anyway, I am sitting here drinking a San Miguel. I have only had a few of them in my life. They are good, but not necessarily extra special. The first I ever had one, it was a treat from some rich guy staying at the  big international hotel outside of Kathmandu. He had invited Tom (my hiking partner) and me to lunch to celebrate our trek to Everest. So, I have always associated San Miguel with accomplishment of some adventure. 

They use dollars on this boat. When I paid for the beer with a $20, the clerk gave me (among other things) a bunch of  $2 bills. She was surprised to learn we don't actually use them!!!

Good bye, Mother Russia. I wish you well. I promise if I come back to see you in another 40 years, I will travel first class. 

Vladivostok

As you know, I did not think I would get much time in Vladivostok. I thought the train was to arrive the morning the ferry left. Fact is, though, that the train arrived a full day ahead of time. Enough time to take in the sights. 

I figured I could sleep a few hours in the train station after my 1:45 arrival.  And it was working fine. Until the guy next to me decided he wanted to learn English. For the next 45 minutes, he had me read from the "Learning English" text he had in his bag. And he practiced. And practiced. But I wanted to sleep and sleep. Luckily, around 3:00 the cleaning crew came in, and made us lift our feet. So, I retreated to a further set of chairs and set myself for sleep. I did not get much, but it was tolerable. They actually turned out most of the lights. But they kept up the every fifteen minute recorded announcement. I am sure it was all about security and not smoking, but its real   intent was to make sure our sleep was not peaceful. 

I figured about 6:30, I would find the buses running and head for the hostel. Instead, I found a raging downpour, with wind and lightning and all. I did not need to go out in that, so I waited an extra hour for it to abate. I got to the hostel about eight, but it was not ready for me. So, I had some tea, and headed out to see Vladivostok. 

There was, after all, only seven things listed in Lonely Planet to see. 

The weather was miserable.  Vladivostok is known, among other things, as "the San Francisco of Siberia." We'll, it does have hills and tall bridges, I hear, but I could not see them for the thick fog. It was muggy, rainy, and murky. The fog was everywhere. 

Beautiful day for museums. So, after a stop at the ferry terminal to check things out, I headed to the first museum. It was closed except for the first floor. I skipped it. The second museum was closed indefinitely, but had a temporary exhibit open twelve blocks away. The third indoor activity, the picture gallery was closed for repair. The fourth did not open until August 21. Frustrated, I went to what Lonely Planet described as "vladivostok's favorite attraction may just be the smoothest-running operation in the Far East: the well-oiled funicular rail way, which every few minutes makes a fun 60 second ride up a 100 meter hill."

It looks like this:

Maybe it is hard to pick up in the photo,but note the piles of trash and the barred doors!  

(I climbed the four billion stairs to the top, because the sun was burning off the fog and I wanted to see the city. It was getting nicer--although still hazy. )

At any rate, my museum closing luck left me only the war museum, based on the gun  emplacement  that defended the city. I eventually found it. The entrance had been moved, and I had to approach from a different street. And the old submarine museum was right where it was supposed to be, and fairly interesting, if campy. 

But as the day wore on, the weather cleared, showing off a city with lots of spectacular sights. Water, and hills, and lots of walking. This last pic was taken out o me side of the hostel. The other side shows a similar scene, since we are out on a peninsula. 

At any rate, I have to get ready to leaveRussia  tomorrow. 

For The Skeptical

There are those who read the story yesterday about how that fat hard belly lady crushed my shoulder against the wall of the train, here is proof. I knew if I sat out there long enough she would come by again.  

So, this morning I lay in wait to capture photographic proof!!!

She went off to the bathroom. I took my place on the little jump seat, patiently waiting her return. Then, I saw he at the end of the aisle. I steadied the camera, every muscle tensed. If I did not wait until that rhinoceros belly moved into view on the little screen, I would prove nothing. If I waited a split second too long, I was inviting another crushing blow of my innocent, vulnerable, shoulder between that enormous, firm fatbody and the hard Formica of the trains interior wall. But my loyal  blog fan(s?) deserved to know what I was suffering. 

There, you see it. A big, crushing belly aiming right at my sore shoulder. You cannot tell how firm it is, rock hard and ready to crush and maim. 

I snapped the proof, hopped up, and pressed against the sidewall in hopes of avoiding further injury. It was over. The moment captured in a photo. Proof that roving bellies exist walking along train aisles looking for innocents. 

In examining the photo later, I noticed that I had captured also two sleeping feet. Those who have been following these exploits should recognize them as the feet of the amazing narcoleptic human that keeps me from my rightful seat in my compartment!

This train ride is getting boring. 

When is Now?

I'm having difficulty trying to keep track of time.

Since every day I go to a few churches ( or temples, and even a mosque, depending on where I am) while taking in the sights, I don't try to keep track of when Sunday is. I am in church(es) a lot. It mattered little what day it was out in yert land. On the train every day is the same. 

 Once I went to a museum, but it was closed that day of the week. Other than that, it really has not mattered what day of the week it was.

I do have to worry about the Korean ferry. It is only once a week, on Wednesdays. 

But, really, what time is it? 

To start with. All scheduled times on the train are Moscow times. And so things are five or six or seven hours off, depending on where you are. And since everything out the train windows looks the same, it is hard to tell where one is. Besides, scenery does not tell you what time zone you are in. 

You have to figure where you are by the name of the cities on the occasional stops. But even here, it is tricky. They write 

(Ouch---dang that hurts.    

Sorry, for the interruption,  but that really hurt. 

As I type this, I am sitting in the aisle on a jump seat and everybody is happily squeezing by. I can't sit in my compartment because the two lazy asses who have the bottom seats--that are supposed to be seats by day and beds only at night--have been stretched out for something like 29 hours, leaving me no place to sit besides in the upper bunk. I swear the guy must have slept at least twenty four of those hours. (And now, as I am getting ready to send this up, he is up to about 40 of the 46 hours.   And he is asleep still!!!  How does he do it?!?)

Okay so I'm sitting out here and people have been happily squeezing by. But then this big fat woman comes by, and squashes my  shoulders between the wall and her massive belly. And it was not squishy fat. It was hard, with no give. This pain in my neck/shoulder is always there. But when it gets whacked like that----ouch. It is like somebody stepping on your toe, hard, while hitting your funny bone. Pain, pins and needles and all that. Hard bellied blimpo making my shoulder hurt worse. 

Anyway--back to the thing about losing track of time. )

I was saying it was tricky to tell where you are because the name of the town is written in some kind of code. I don't know what they are trying to hide, since all the Russians seem to know the code. There are backward K's and R's and upside down N's, and mathematical symbols like Pi and Delta. And what's  with putting a 3 in the middle of a word? They have an X with a vertical line in the middle. Even the letters that look real don't say what they are supposed to.  For instance, if you see the letter B, you are supposed to say V. Vowels don't say their names, like they do in American. Real pain in the butt trying to read anything. So, you can't just look out and see where you are.  You have to decode stuff. 

And don't tell me to go by the sun. They put too many clouds up there to get that to work. And  besides, I'm not sure the sun knows what it is supposed to be doing. 

 Last night when my watch said 11:30  pm local time, I looked out the window and the sky was still light. How does that work? 

 

It looks like the train system is also messed up. One attachment I got from Russian rail confirming this trip says I get there at 18:45 August 5. This means 1:45 am August 6.  (See, I told you it was screwy!) The other says 18:45 August 6  which means early morning August 7. Go figure. 

I mean, if the train does not know the day, how am I supposed to keep of when now is?

On The Train Again Again.

I'm 13 hours into a 65 hour train ride. This is the one to Vladivostok. So, when I get there, I will have completed the Trans Siberian-- one of the things I have always wanted to do. 

I will get to Vladivostok at 18:40 something. That's seven o'clock or so in the evening. Unfortunately it is Moscow time,  and will be 1:40 am local. Russia is seven time zones across. 

The ferry leaves at three, and I am supposed to be there at noon. The ferry wharf is next to the train station. I cannot see walking the streets of Vladivostok in the middle of the night to get to the hostel I had reserved.  So I may just sit in the train station till daybreak. I can check my backpack at left luggage and play it by ear from then on. 

The scenery has changed. It looks like West Virginia or Pennsylvania, lots of green hills. The title dachas, farmhouses, etc. look. little nicer, a little richer. 

I wish I could get better pics, but the blogging system I  using is limited to phone pics, and those are taken through a dirty train window, with tinting and glare from solar reflection.  Still largely cloudy. 

Here is a pic the Kazakhs insisted I take last night, showing the historic meeting of Kazakhstan, Cuba, and the oooooh essss. Ahhhhh. Then the Kazakhs drank too much beer, and got mad at each other and started yelling until at least 1:30, making it so I could not sleep when I had to get up at 4:00 to catch a train. 

Star Hop or Goto

I strongly suspect that the only people reading this stuff are my wife Judy and my mother in law Sue. So, the reference in the title to star hopping and goto may not be useful.  But here it is. 

Star hopping is where you use maps, charts, little patterns and pointers in the sky to hunt down whatever you are looking for. Then you look at it. It takes luck, hard work, patience, and time. And it only works most of the time. Then, after looking for a minute or two at your quarry, you spend another fifteen minutes hunting your next object. 

Goto is where you set your telescope up just right, and press a few buttons on the controller, and zip, it goes right to the object. Then you look at it. If you have set everything up right (which can be a challenge), it is simple pie, quick, and effortless. And after looking at the object for a minute or two, you zip off to the next object in a few seconds (or go in and  warm up with some coffee or something).

What you are looking at in astronomy is pretty much the same whether your scope got there by star hopping or goto. 

I like to star hop when doing visual astronomy, but use goto for astroimaging. 

For traveling, I like both star hopping and goto. In travel, star hopping is the way I am doing this trip. Goto is the way I do trips with Judy. 

When Judy and I are going someplace, we often book a tour with Tauck or somebody. We know where we are going, where we will be staying, what sights we will see, and all that. Somebody tells us where to be to meet the bus. Our luggage magically appears in the room, just as and when it should. Food, clean and edible American food, shows up when expected at the table. We never (or at least rarely) get lost. Everybody speaks English. 

Not so when "star hopping," that is, the way I am traveling now. I have to figure out where things are. I have to get maps. I have to guess what the food will be, even as I am ordering it. And sometimes as I am eating it. I have to carry my own bag (even if the little roller things broke way back in Warsaw). North, east and so forth are often not recognizable, and sometimes the map is in a whole different alphabet, not to mention language. 

Everybody else knows where and how to get on the bus, how much and who to pay, and when to get off. But you don't. 

When I do "goto" traveling, I know I am sharing the room with Judy. So, I know who is snoring. (Me). When "star hopping" type of travel , that is, living in the hostel, I have no idea who is snoring, who did not wash his feet, why that idiot has to have a conversation in here while I am trying to sleep. . . . You know. 

But in astronomy, whether star hopping or goto, you see bthe same object. It looks the same. True, the challenge, experience, and for me the satisfaction, is much greater with star hopping. You just get more out if it. (In my opinion.)

Same is true in travel. 

If Tauck or Crystal Cruises had arranged this trip for me, I might have seen the same buildings. But I got to walk around them instead of just driving by. I would have gotten to the Ethnographic Outdoor   Museum in an air conditioned bus instead of a sweaty shared taxi. But I would have been able to walk around only an hour before being whisked off to some overgrown souvenirs store that the claimed was an authentic local artisans workshop. (You know, they show you how a carpet is made for ten minutes and then you have an hour to shop the carpet store. )

There is more to say here.    But the Kazakhs that want me to help eat the dinner they just  made here in the hostel and i am too distracted. So I will just save to the web for now. 

Continuing later.  

And then the guy from Cuba came in and the Kazakhs wanted a historic picture of Cuba, Kazakhstan, and oooesssahhhh together. And so we took the picture.  And now everybody took off or something. So I am sitting here with Russian television. Suddenly alone and quiet. 

I was saying something about traveling like I do I have more experiences than u get on organized tours.   I guess I made my point. Maybe I'll expand in it later. Maybe not. 

RT...Russian Television

I kinda thought the Cold War was over until I was surfing the channels on the hostel television here in Ulan Ude. 

I can only stand so much of the Discovery Channel overdubbed. I mean, who really needs the dialogue in Mythbusters and Ice Road Truckers--but still. 

I found only one channel in English. RT is a standard 24 hour news channel. The weird thing is that it seems to be exclusively centered on US news. And it seems to be really negative about the U S. 

For instance, yesterday as I was spreading my peanut butter over a tasty roll, there was an piece about how the FDA allows certain additives and preservatives in American food while the EU does not. There was no mention that Russia also allows these additives. This morning the talking heads are complaining that Wal- mart and fast foods do not provide a living wage in the US. No mention of wage standards here. 

They are pushing an upcoming special about surveillance cameras in the US. Like they don't have them here? Remember all those shots of the Chelyabinsk meteor explosion? They were all security camera shots. 

You can imagine their coverage of the Snowden thing. 

I'm not saying we are wonderful and they are not. I'm just wondering why the only English language channel is:

1. Exclusively focused on the US

And

2. It is so focused on the negative

Who would be watching it? 

Why?

Just thinking.