Sunday, April 15, 2012

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series : Part Ten - Lower East Side Story III: On The F

Lower East Side Story - Part III: On The F

Originally created 3/16/2002

By now, you might have been so tired of hearing me complaining about New York's subway system. One of the most complicated underground transportation network in the world, this system has degenerated into huge chaos in the past few years. Of course, the September 11 attack only worsened things further. Closing of stations, constant rerouting, skipping stops, ultra-long delays, and occasional derails (yes, it did happened!) all makes taking subway trains such an unpleasant experience. Overcrowdedness, rudeness of New York passengers, which has been the staple of this city for decades, further contributes to our daily distress. While New Yorkers whine about the subway on daily basis, we just cannot get anywhere without it (try driving you will understand).

Similar to other cities, New York subways operate on color codes. There are red, blue, orange, green, purple, brown, gray, and light green (as if there should have been more than 7 colors on the rainbow). Different from other cities, New York has both numeric and alphabetic naming system. Thus, there are 1 through 7 trains (9 was just discontinued after September 11) and trains named from A to Z (but there is no H, I, K, O, P, T, U, Y). It seems after a while, you discover that what these alphabet really stand for. N is 'Never' (you will never get to Astoria), R is 'Rare' (Can we get to 'Rare-go' Park on this train?), C is 'Chronic' (Are we still in Brooklyn?), D is 'delayed', J is a 'Joke' (yes, it re-routed again this morning, that's why I'm late again!), and Z operates only 2 hours a day (it sleeps through... zzzZ the other 22 hours).

The addition of W (no relation to the President) last July displaced B and D and gave Q schizo-typical personality (now there are 'Diamond Q'/Express and 'Circle Q'/Local). After September 11th, 1, 2, 3 messed up with one another's routes and N, R disappeared for a few weeks. Still, the Metropolitan Transit Authority went ahead with another route change. A new line V spinned off from F while F itself runs on a new tunnel and G was adjusted to a new weekend service. Sound confusing? I guess you need a Ph.D. to understand New York's subway system. No wonder I am so underemployed: I spent too much of my brain power to figure out how to utilize the subway...

While I no longer need to take that (un)lucky 7 to get home in Flushing (out of that little ghetto 9 months ago), or very 'Rare' R to Elmhurst (no longer a subletter). Now F is the line I take (is this really 'F'requent and 'F'ast?).

Starting from Jamaica Estate in Queens (this is a marginal part of Queens. It gets scary when you wander into Jamaica Center), passing a few affluent neighborhoods in Queens, F gets into Manhattan; taking along 6th Avenue, snakes through Lower East Side and Chinatown, F enters Brooklyn without passing by any of the very overused financial district stations (thus avoid the post-September 11 disruption). In Brooklyn, several neighborhoods F passes became newly hip and extremely popular address. After passing another few immigrant-rich neighborhoods, F ends at Coney Island. For many reasons, I think F has the most interesting route in the whole New York.

After V started running regularly, F became an express train 24 hours. That makes it the fastest train in Queens (and very important, it brings my best friend from Briarwood to Manhattan to have brunch with me in shorter time). Making only one stop each in Kew Garden, Forest Hills (two of the most expensive neighborhood of Queens), Jackson Heights (with great Indian and Hispanic restaurants abound), and Long Island City, F fast approaches Roosevelt Island (the only train now goes into this small piece of land in the middle of East River) before it enters Manhattan.

With only 12 stops in Manhattan, it actually passes almost all the interesting neighborhoods there (No, I'm not a big fan of Upper East Side and West Side). It takes my Briarwood friend to Macy and Empire Station Building (34 Street, where she used to work), take me to Carnegie Hall (57th Street), Greenwich Village and Washington Square (West 4 Street), SoHo (Broadway-Lafayette), and back home (2nd Avenue/Lower East Side). Going a few stops north at 23rd street, I can go to a huge Barnes and Noble Bookstore and several department stores selling cheap garments and linens. 2 stops south, I can go to Chinatown (East Broadway, though this is actually not a very good part of Chinatown). For me, one of the reasons that attracted me to the current Clinton Street address is its approximity to the F line, which leads to many places I want to go.

F in Brooklyn doesn't really go anywhere near my SUNY office. It doesn't even go to the largest subway station (and the messiest)- Atlantic Avenue - in Brooklyn. However, it directly goes along Smith Street, now becomes a famous thoroughfare for good restaurant, posh coffeehouses, and chic boutiques. Halcyon, a coffeehouse/record store/used furniture shop, is possibly one of the funkiest places in town. There is a DJ spinning cool new sounds most of the time. And you can buy any table, chair, or lamp in the store you like since it is also a 'used furniture shop.' Besides the regular poetry reading, they even allow customers to 'guest' DJ-ing for a few hours at weekends. The premise is that you have to 'practice' first. Unfortunately, I haven't had chance to try my skills yet (but that at least guarantees my not being barred from it so far).

Leaving Smith Street corridor, F train goes elevated for one stop (with a good view of Statue of Liberty) before it enters Booklyn's most affluent and expensive neighborhood - Park Slope.

I didn't visit Park Slope until June 1999. When I got the job offer from SUNY in early 2000, I thought this would be the neighborhood I would live in. Tragically, Park Slope had become more expensive than even many neighborhoods in Manhattan. By the fall of 2000, Park Slope became so unaffordable that I ended up living in Flushing...I guess you all know what misfortune ensued after I started my Flushing days. No more iteration here.

Occasionally, I take the F train all the way to its final stop - Coney Island. But it is basically a summer destination, this is not a right season to go there.

Jennifer Lopez used to take 6 train from the Bronx to Manhattan for audition when she was still an unknown dancer. She named her first album "On The 6" in memory of the old, long past days. For me, every memory associated with my "On The 7" days (Flushing) was so bitter. I'm glad I will associate my last days in New York with this 'fast' and 'frequent' train.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series : Part Nine - Lower East Side Story II: Crossing Houston

Lower East Side Story - Part II: Crossing Houston

Originally created 3/4/2002

Crossing Houston (pronounced "how-ston" in New York, not hju-ston) Street, I am in the neighborhood of East Village.

A neighborhood I’ve always considered as my favorite neighborhood, in a city I formerly considered a favorite one in the world.

Interestingly, after crossing Houston Street, almost every street changes its name: Avenue B becomes Clinton Street (where I live); Avenue A becomes Essex St. (a recently installed "Don’t Honk" sign blocks 'Es' part of the street sign and makes it look like "Don’t Honk – sex" Street); 1st Avenue becomes Allen Street, etc. Even the number of streets are different on north and south sides of Houston: It is a long blocks between 1st Ave. and Ave. A, but with Orchard St. and Ludlow St. (both streets are full of chic and happening places now) sandwiched between Essex and Allen Streets; Between Essex and Clinton, there are Norfolk and Suffolk streets. Usually walking home along south side of Houston from the 2nd Ave. subway station, I have to walk about 9 blocks to get home. If I take the north side, it would be only 3 (long) blocks. You do the math.

Being so status conscious about the neighborhood you live like New Yorkers, telling people you’re from Lower East Side seems to justify people’s stereotypes about newly arrived Asian immigrants (LES is historically famous as being new immigrants’ first residence in New York). If I tell people I live in East Village, then, people might assume I am one of the bohemian-hipsters-turn-young-professionals. Even though actually I feel a little bit of both, I am physically a Lower East Side resident.

Spiritually, I feel more like an East Villager. Constantly, I cross Houston Street to 'the other side' for entertainment and good restaurants. Pioneer Theater, on 3rd Street near Ave. A, is possibly the theater I spent most of my money on movies. It is part of a pizza parlor-video rental store called "Two Boots" (mix the tastes of 'two boots' –Italy and Louisiana- into slices of pizza). Many second-run art-house movies have been shown here, including the re-release of Wan Kar-Wai’s "In the Mood for Love." Being a member of the Theater, I am also invited to many free screening. Just last week, I was able to see the screening of "in the Bedroom" and "Memento" for free. The weekly Tuesday night special new film screening series (this one is not free) is one of my favorite activities in New York. The pre-screening party includes unlimited pizza and beer (until the supply runs out). Very often the screened movies are really bad, but at least I get to have free food and drinks!

Two blocks away (long blocks, since this is the north side of Houston), Film Anthology (2nd St. and 2nd Ave.) offers a selection of even more obscure art-house movies. I finally had chance to see the full length of Theo Angelopoulos’s "Un Regard d'Ulyssis" (3 scary long hours!) this past January. They even hosted a "New movies from Taiwan" last May and had retrospective for relatively unknown Taiwanese directors like Wang Tong and Lee Hsing. There are several small film festivals taking places at Film Anthology every year. The New York Underground Film Festival will begin this Wednesday (March 6). I am ready for some dose of very bad experimental movies now (it might help me to appreciate the Oscar over-extravaganza later this month).

In addition to Pioneer Theater and Film Anthology, there are also Angelica theater and Village East Cinema for art movies. I saw Tsai Ming-Liang's "What Time Is It There" at Angelica, possibly earlier than any of my friends back in Taiwan. When I think about the movies I can see here, I feel fortunate to be in New York.

Dining outside is fun in East Village too. Unlike many other parts of Manhattan, restaurant prices here tend to be more reasonable. Few restaurants offer entrée price higher than $20. Varieties also rule here. I can find great Polish, Japanese, French, Thai, Moroccan, Tibetan, Indonesian, Peruvian and even vegetarian restaurants on or around Avenue A. When I want to have (very) cheap Indian food, I can go to 6th Street. There are possibly 2 dozens Indian restaurants on the block between 1st and 2nd Avenues (With that many Indian restaurants on the same block, I really doubt if they all share a same kitchen. I feel they all taste the same...). Another good thing to report, waiters in east Village restaurants tend not to be as snob and rude like those in SoHo or Chelsea. Dining out finally might actually turn out to be a joyful thing as it should have been in life.

And life just becomes much easier after I moved into Manhattan. East Village is no longer 30 subway stops away. After a night out, walking across Houston Street, I am back home, at Lower East Side.

Friday, April 13, 2012

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series : Part Eight - The Best of Time and The Worst of Time

On the last day of 2001, I went through a few stuffs on my messy desk: A lot of papers I xeroxed from the peer-reviewed journals (most of them are very prestigious). Among them, a pile of reprints of my own papers - the first published paper I have ever had in my all career (NOTE: By the end of 2011, this paper had been cited more than 120 times). I took out a paper bag with a drivers's instruction booklet and my New Jersey learner's permit, something did not to morph into a real driver's license after I failed another road test last June. And in one folder, there are full of travel reimbursement forms. It seems that I had made at least half a dozen business trips this past year. Among them are those fascinating destinations: Seattle, San Francisco, Savannah, and even my former home of Baltimore. I have never been on so many trips paid by my job in my life. A business card from a detective caught my attention and suddenly brought me back to that horrible September day when I was mugged. And of course, how can I forget that small plastic card, which is not actually green, I fought so hard to obtain just to have a better chance in my career opportunities?

I had them all, in this short year of 2001. It was the best of time and the worst of the time in my life.

And then, there were 911 and 411.

I think all of you will not forget the horrifying image from the day of 911 and I don¡¦t want to go into any further detail on that. As to the Apartment 411, I have to say I might just give up, for the rest of my life, the idea of becoming a homeowner in New York City. After two such tumultuous years of 1999 and 2000, it is just way too hard to think about that I had to go through another such personal catastrophe. I have been shattered and shattered again, will there be an end to all these misfortunes? I just have too many broken pieces of dreams to pick up now.

Then I moved to Lower East Side in the last month of this year. Finally a Manhattanite, finally brave enough to pursue what I really want and stop listening to those unhelpful opinions. The number of my new apartment of is 501.

Isn't it odd? 411-911+501 = 1. One

And this was my 2001, the Year One of this new century.

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series : Part Seven -Lower East Side Story

Originally created 12/31/2001

"I hear the clock, it’s six am. I feel some thoughts of where I’ve been..."

It’s in fact almost 8 am. I’m lying in my bed wondering if this is the time I should get up. Listening to music, this Jewel’s 1997 song suddenly came to my mind.

I’ve lived in four different places around New York in the past 14 months. Now I finally moved into Manhattan. Because my new place is only 3 subway stops from my downtown office, I now have almost one extra hour saved from commuting every morning.

I should stay in bed for a little while. It is so comfy here. And this is the first real mattress I sleep on in the past 14 months.

I sort of feel that I have wasted 14 months of my life. Most of the time wasted is, of course, on the very inefficient and disordered subway system. Now I can say goodbye to R (rare) train, to (unlucky) 7 train, and enjoy F train (F means frequent?) on most of my trip around town.

My new apartment is in an old tenement building. It is very small and the heating system seems a little bit dysfunctional. However, it is completely furnished, with a queen size bed, two bed stands, two beautiful lamps, and a dining table. Even the utensils are included. And it is fully carpeted outside of the kitchen and bathroom area. Since I will only live here for about 4 months, I don’t have that much time to complain anyway.

Tenements are the dominant style in the Lower East Side neighborhood. Most of them were built in the late 19th century when a huge influx of Jewish immigrants from Central and East European moved to New York and settled in this neighborhood. Originally called "tenant houses" from the Latin tenere ("to hold"), tenements were built as multifamily housings for the poor. Often, as many as ten people lived packed into one tiny, dark, and airless apartment, sharing as little as 300 square feet of space. Because most of the new immigrants were poor and worked on unskilled and menial jobs, tenement housing was the only affordable choice for them. A typical tenement usually is five to six stories tall with four apartments to a floor (My building has five stories with four apartments on each floor). From outside, tenements are tall and narrow houses jammed next to each other. Inside, apartments are arranged symmetrically along a central hallway. There are usually only two windows in each apartment, either facing the front street or rear yard. I was smart to choose a unit in the front, so I can watch street activities unfolded outside my windows. After the first legislation governing tenements were enacted in 1867, fire escapes became required facilities. There is one right outside of my left window.

Sunlight now sifts through the window blinds, onto my bed. I can hear the traffic outside (Construction workers renovating the new café across street supposedly have start their day of work already). It’s time to get out of bed.

"I break the yolk and make a smiling face; I kind of like it in my brand new place..."

The kitchen is in fact, tiny (I guess that’s why they call it "kitchenette"). I don’t even have a place to put my bowls and plates when I cook. The refrigerator is about one third the size in a regular home. The closet space...you’d better forget it. However, just like Jewel singing in the song, I kind of like it.

Maybe it is because of its location. Walking out of my building, steps away, it is the famous Lotus Club (35 Clinton St.). It is a dark café/bar with bamboo curtains. At daytime, it serves as a coffeehouse, with nice coffee, tea, and numerous selections of bagels (though their sandwiches are not really that good). They also offer many copies of Time Out New York (a weekly publication about New York entertainment and activities) for customers to read. On the other side of the rooms, there are wall-to-wall bookshelves with some second-hand books. At night, it converts into a nightclub, sometimes with live music performances. I rarely visit there at night (it is much more smoky when it becomes a "bar"). Very often in the morning, I come here to have a cup of latte and a scone, reading New York Times, before I head to work. Somehow, I haven’t been able to live a life like this since I moved to New York.

After having coffee and light breakfast, I walk south along Clinton Street to Delancey Street. Before reaching Rivington Street, I pass by some new boutiques, a new age souvenir shop, a tattoo parlor, and several restaurants. Among them, 71 Clinton Fresh Food (at 71 Clinton Street as the name suggested) has become so famous that on weekends, I see many very well-dressed people taking cabs here and line up outside for a table. The menu is with limited selections and concentrated on seafood. I haven’t yet dined there since I moved to this neighborhood. As you can figure out, it is not cheap at all (most entrée are around $23 and appetizers around $10). I heard the same family owning this restaurant will open another restaurant with a more affordable price – on the same block.

One of their former employees has already opened a chic café called aKa Café at 49 Clinton Street. Selling mostly Italian sandwiches and empanadas, food at aKa Café is more affordable. Just went to have my first taste last Friday and it is delicious and the way its food presented is very creative. But the portions are small, we ended up ordered two entrees, one appetizer, one soup, and one desert. adding up with two cocktails, it still cost us more than $20 per person. But we even saw the actress palying the mother in TV show "Gilmore Girls" dining next to us. She dressed just like us, black sweater and blue jeans. So TV stars are no different from ordinary people like us when they dine around New York. I think I will start to love New York again...

Crossing Rivinton Street, it becomes less trendy and slightly rundown. There are mostly Hispanic grocery stores (called “bodega”) and some discount shops. Several restaurants (much cheaper) selling Latin food can be found on this block of Clinton.

Reaching Delancey Street, I turn right to get to subway station for J, M, Z trains to downtown Manhattan. F (remember it’s my favorite line?) also makes stop here before it reaches Chinatown. There are a lot of discount shops along Delancey Street. Though this street has been famous for some Kosher (Jewish) restaurants and delis, now most residents in this neighborhood are either Hispanic or Asians. In fact, due to the large influx of new immigrants from China, Chinese population has spilled from Chinatown (at south) to Lower East Side. I can buy World Daily News (the largest Chinese newspaper in North America) right at the newsstand out of the subway station.

However, I don’t usually walk to Delancey when I want to do some shopping or eating. I usually walk north, reaching Houston Street. Crossing it, it is my favorite neighborhood in New York – East Village.

"Dreams last for so long, even after you’re gone...soon you will see, you were meant for me and I was meant for you."

Even after I no longer consider New York my favorite place on earth (Now the perennial No. 2 - Montreal- moves up to my top spot, just as default.), I found a neighborhood that is meant for me.

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series : Part Six - 25 Minutes

Originally created 12/24/2001

I had only 25 minutes.

After I got all the basic information from my friend Chen (he will be my guarantor for my apartment application), I had to run to the building to have a final check and decide which apartment I really want to rent. Then, I can submit application to their main office this afternoon. However, only the superintendent can show me the available apartments. He is only at the building from 12 to 1 pm. And now, it is 12:35 pm.

I didn't want to wait until the next day. I just had to move out of that New Jersey apartment as soon as possible. I could no longer stand to live with that witch…

Since New York's subway is so unreliable and messy, I really didn't want to take it to Greenwich Village and change to F to Lower East Side. It might easily take more than half an hour. So I chose to walk, one thing that I have been very good at.

From my friend’s office at TriBeCa, I took Watts Street east. Immediately, I crossed Canal Street, leaving TriBeCa behind and entered SoHo.

TriBeCa had become one of the most expensive neighborhood in the past few years. With so many celebrities moving in (including the late JFK Jr.), an one-bedroom loft in this area can price as high as one million. Robert DeNiro invested Nobu has been one of the most popular restaurants in New York and it is right at the center of TriBeCa. Walking past by these apartment buildings, I sort of feel they are characterless. A million dollars condo would definitely be overpriced .

However, due to its proximity to the World Trade Center, business in this area has been hard hit after the attack. Even rental prices starts to decline now. But it is still very unaffordable for most people, anyway.

Taking West Broadway and turning right at Spring Street, I was right in the center of SoHo. Once a favorite spot for artists and galleries, today’s SoHo is full of very expensive boutiques, mega-stores, and swamped by endless shoppers almost everyday of a week. However, the east-west streets are usually quieter than north-south avenues. Even Spring Street is right at the center of things, it was relatively unjammed at this lunch hour. I crossed Broadway, and then Lafayette, two of the busiest avenues in SoHo. There are so many fancy restaurants and coffee shops along the street, but I just had no time to stop to take a good look at their menus.

In fact, I have never been a big fan of SoHo. It is too commercialized, let alone I don’t really earn enough money to be a resident here.

After living in such a bad residence in Flushing for 9 months, I eventually had chance to move to a sublet one-bedroom in Elmhurst. Both are in Queens and I always needed to spend a lot of time to commute to work in Brooklyn and Manhattan. After my friend returned from Taiwan in late October, I had to move again. Forced to take my friend H’s place in a small apartment in Rutherford, New Jersey, I had started a daily routine with an even longer commute (usually 4 hours a day). Adding to that my new ‘roommate’ is so unpleasant to be with (fortunately H didn’t live with her).

My original plan to buy my own apartment has become the most tragic event of this century in my life (yes, personally, it hurt me much more than the 9-11). An inefficient real estate agent, two cowardly lawyers of mine, a extremely arrogant and malicious managing company who owns many apartment buildings, an easily manipulated seller, and a profoundly evil and greedy lawyer (representing the seller) from China all seemed to conspire to make my life miserable. Now the buying application was rejected and I have to hire a litigation lawyer to get my deposit back from the vicious lawyer. That deposit is a very, very huge amount of money, saved from last year’s salary, scholarship, and by staying in such a rundown and disgusting residence in Flushing.

So I don’t have much left in my bank account now. Worse yet, I don't have much left for me to trust other people. And with newly developed distaste upon the greed and arrogance of New Yorkers, my transition to Atlanta next April became a welcomed relief of my life. Since I will not have my own condo in New York, I don’t have to come back to New York after my fellowship in Atlanta ends.

So next four months would be my last days in this city.

Looking back what I have gone through in my life, this actually might only be the third worst thing in my life. But when I look back how much I loved New York and how eager I wanted to move to New York merely two years ago. It is heartbreaking to see it have to come to this bitter end.

Only four months left, for me, in this city I used call my No. 1 favorite in the world.

But I don't want to give up and I don’t want to give in. I want to make my remains of days in New York better than ever. I have to get over all the misfortunes collapsed on me by the evil denizens of this city and try to enjoy the good things only this city can offer.
So I have to move into Manhattan.

I turned north at Mulberry Street and officially entered Nolita. Nolita has become a popular heaven for some small designer’s shops and boutiques. This neighborhood looks understated but not rundown. I took a right turn at Prince Street.

South of Houston Street, you no longer find any east-west street named in numbers. Many street in SoHo have quite poetic names, spring, price, mercer…while the building I planned to move in is on a street with a famous name – Clinton.

Prince Street terminates at Bowery Street, a street described as "seedy core of New York lowlife" in Simone de Beauvoir’s "L’Amerique au jour le jour 1947." But that was in the 40's and now it is a different century. Crossing Bowery, I entered the neighborhood of Lower East Side.

If I move into the Clinton Street apartment, this will be my neighborhood.

Walking along Stanton Street, I found there are more restaurants and café along than I imagined. I know this area has gone through some real gentrification in the past couple of years, but the gentrification seems still going on everyday, even at this uncertain time.

I reached Clinton Street and turned left. It was 12:57 pm. Fortunately, the superintendent was standing next to the entrance, chatting with a staff at a café next door. So there is a café just downstairs.

I peeked outside the window of apartment 501, the only available unit facing the front. I saw the leaves falling, and drifting with winds, in this unusually warm November afternoon.

So I made an easy decision. And now, I am a Manhattanite.

It took only 25 minutes for me to arriving at my new neighborhood, even though it has taken
me 14 months to make that decision.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series : Part Five - The Longest Day: September 11, 2001

Originally written as an e-mail on September 12th, 2001

I am very touched by the e-mails and phone calls from many of you. I am still alive and not harmed by the horrible attack on the World Trade Center this past Tuesday. Though I still feel slightly mentally traumatized at this moment.

I usually work at the New York City Department of Health twice a week, mostly on Monday and Wednesday. My office is at the corner of Broadway and Leonard Street, which is about 10 blocks north of the World Trade Center (WTC was on Church Street, one block west of Broadway). On Tuesday, I work at SUNY Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn and usually have a weekly meeting with my boss.

I really don't know what I was thinking that day. I rarely get into my Brooklyn office before 10:00 am. On this past Tuesday, I took G subway train from my residence in Elmhurst, Queens to Fort Greene, Brooklyn, to change to another subway line (usually 2 or 5) to Flatbush, where my office is located. G train is the only line in New York that doesn't get into Manhattan (It goes only from Queens to Brooklyn) and rush hour on G has never been as crowded as other New York subway trains. On that 40 minutes ride, I had already heard that a plane slamming into World Trade Center. I was slightly scared but did not think too much about it. Then I heard there were two hitting both towers. A man even started to yell crazily that nobody cares, this city is all fucked up, blah, blah, blah.

After I got out of at Fort Greene and walked to Atlantic Avenue station (possibly the largest in Brooklyn, with more than 10 lines converging there), I saw there was very huge dark cloud of smoke drifting out of Lower Manhattan. I found the situation is more serious than I thought. On the road, I heard another plane crashed into Pentagon outside of Washington, DC. I should have just gone home at this moment. But I still plan to go to my office because
I had a meeting with my boss.

The whole Atlantic Avenue station is shut down. I tried to take bus to get to Flatbush. The traffic was so jammed that buses just couldn't move. I heard people talking about how horrible it was when they saw people jumping out of Twin Towers to their death. It sent chills to my spin. I should have just got off the bus and gone home.

Well, I did get out the bus but I chose to walk to my office (What was I thinking?). It is about 3 to 5 kilometers walk, I guess. Along the way, more horror stories unfolded: The planes crashed were not just small planes (I thought they are small planes), but jetliners with many passengers, then I heard the towers collapsed. The first part of the walk was fine since I passed Park Slope, one of the most exclusive and expensive neighborhoods of Brooklyn. Then after passing the Prospect Park (Central Park of Brooklyn, as they say), I got into Flatbush, which definitely not as 'desirable' as Park Slope, or even Fort Greene. I planned to take another bus (B12) to get directly to the entrance of the building I work at. I was already late. I tried to call my boss, but the line was so busy that I couldn't got through. I did find a message from my father. He saw the news back in Taiwan and he was very, very concerned. That was even before I had chance to see any horrible images of this incident myself. I tried to call my mother but I just couldn't get through the busy signals. It must be very chaotic out there and all the phone circuits were busy.

Finally I made it through to tell my mother everything was okay and I was on my way to my office. B12 bus still didn't show up, I should have chosen to go home now. But then, I chose to walk across many blocks in Flatbush, alone, to reach my office. What was I thinking?

Then I was robbed, at gunpoint, by two thugs, right under daylight, two blocks from my office.

And merely two hours after the World Trade Center was crashed.

This is the first time I was robbed, after I’ve been living in the US for over 8 years, and after I have lived in such crime-ridden city such as Baltimore and Washington, DC, and after they said the crime rates in New York has gone down 8 years in a row. Then I found, the spot I was robbed is the block I walk most of the time after I got out of the subway station. It was not the unfamiliar part of Flatbush where I got robbed, instead, it is the block I am most familiar with.

Now I feel vulnerable.

In fact, I lost only $17. They didn't even bother to take away my credit card. I was so tired after the long walk and I just tried to walk away from the crime scene. I felt exhausted, frustrated, and angry. But for the most parts, I feel confused. I wonder, why this happened in this already horrible day. Then I felt even angrier.

Has the terrorist attack also brought out the evil people among New Yorkers?

As it unfolded, this terrorist attack is much more serious than I imagined. Possibly more than 6000 people were killed and tens of thousands wounded. Many subway lines have been closed, flights were grounded. All New Yorkers are affected; most Americans are affected and many people outside of this country are also touched. There has not been any looting or serious robbery arising yet in New York. New Yorkers have shown their compassion about each other and help each other out. Maybe I was just plain unlucky since I am the only guy 'looted'.

Maybe I am lucky. Because I wasn't physically harmed by the robbers at all. I only lost 17 dollars. My co-workers (whom I used to complain as ‘distant’) gave a lot of emotional support. Watching TV news, seeing those who have lost their life, lost their family and friends, or extremely traumatized by the escape process, I feel I am lucky. I did have a new friend who worked on 78th floor of Tower One. She just reached the elevator, waiting to going up, when the first plane hit. She escaped unharmed. She is lucky.

Of course, this week has been a very, very tough week for me. The difficult transportation situation as aftermath of the attack; loss of sense of security makes me take a long route to get to my Brooklyn office; a very important trip to Atlanta was canceled (since nobody could really fly out of New York); nobody care about a presentation that I had prepared with a lot of work (few people are in mood in any work anyway); and I might end up homeless again in October. Maybe the word "lucky" is just inapplicable to me at all. It is very difficult to cheer up with so many troubles surrounding me.

I know those troubles will not go away in a day or two, but the World Trade Center have. In fact, they are gone in 100 minutes.

I returned to Manhattan on that very same day of 9/11 (and managed not to get robbed twice in a day), after hiding in my office by myself for another few hours. I couldn't leave because I didn't know when the subway would run again and I didn't want to walk on the streets of Flatbush. Finally after changing four different buses and train lines, F brought me to west 4 Street Station at Greenwich Village. I should have remained on the train and it would take me back to Queens, but I decided to got out of the train, to see what the streets of Manhattan had become, 10 hours after the attack. Getting out of the Station, I was immediately on the 6th Avenue.

I remember, 6th Avenue has always been my favorite avenue. It was easy to orient yourself on this road because looking south, the twin towers of World Trade Center standing tall and glistening, while turning around and looking north, the spike of Empire State Building so visibly shining.

Now I look south, there is only a huge chunk of smoke. Something very significant is missing: the Twin Towers. But that is not the only thing gone. Other things have changed: I might not want to fly as often I have in the past years; I might not want to work in any high-rise building in the future; and I might not want to walk in most parts of Brooklyn anymore. Besides the disappeared Twin Towers, many things in my life, including the sense of security, just won't be there anymore. I started to feel very, very sad.

Finishing a bagel I got from a nearby deli, it was almost dark. I had to go home now (don't want to be robbed again). Walking back to subway station, I turned around. Then I saw the Empire State Building, still elegantly standing there. Once again, it is the tallest building in New York City.

It’s truly a blessing to be a survivor.

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series : Part Four: Landscape of Dreams

Originally created on 7/17/2001

Many things came to my mind the last day I was in Albuquerque.

I could still recall those places we just visited so vividly. The elegant Santa Fe, with all those cute adobe houses, Spanish churches, and nice small museums; The grandiose scenery of the Grand Canyon; the dazzling rock formations in the Arches National Park; the multiple layers of colors of Painted Desert in the Petrified National Park; the well-preserved archaelogical sites of Mesa Verde; and of course, the experience of driving through Monument Valley. Most of these have been things I wanted to see or wanted to do for so many years. This is the first time I came to realize them.

The landscape of Southwest is, indeed, dreamy.

I remember that more than 10 years ago, after I failed my third road test for driver's license in Taiwan, I decided that I would not take another test in Taiwan and got myself humiliated again (The DMV officers in Taiwan are extremely abusive, or just because I'm too clumsy?). In that very same year, I had a very odd but very compensating dream. I dreamt that I drove a SUV, across a barren and broad landscape, 90 kilometers an hour (around 60 MPH). I was humming Emil Chou's (周華健) "The Direction of My Heart" (『心的方向』it was a former No. 1 song in Taiwan, which is also a theme song for a car commercial back in 80s). For the first time in my life, I could enjoy the pleasure of driving, though it was just a dream. I still remember I woke up smiling, so satisfied by the dream I just had. I am not sure if the landscape in my dream looked like the Southwest, however. Eleven years later, this odd dream was realized.

I also remember after viewing my classmates' slide show of the Delicate Arch, how much I wanted to visit this national park. My 'date' with the Arch did not realize until the beginning of another millennium... And, when Santa Fe was briefly voted No. 1 most favorite destination (over San Francisco and Sydney) in 1994, I wanted to see how this small city is like. I also did not manage to realize the trip until 7 years later.

No matter how long it takes for me just to realize some of my small wishes, I believe that "it is better late than never."

For me, it is especially sweet that I could realize something I had been longed for after so many years.

It was a very full flight on my way back from Albuquerque to New York. There was a high school group of more than 60 students, taking their summer trip to Europe. I chatted with the two girls sitting next to me.

"So this is your first time to Europe?" I asked them.

"Yes, we are so excited about it!!" They said.

Then I talked about those cities they would visit in their trip: London, Paris, Amsterdam, Munich, Rome, Barcelona, Madrid.....it reminded me of the good time I had in my European trips before. They felt even more excited after listening to my stories. And at the end of their trip, they would have three days' stopover in New York. They were especially excited aboout asking a "New Yorker" about New York.

"Have you been to New York?" I asked.

"No, this is our first time to the East Coast!" With their eyes wide open, I know they felt no less excited about their "stopover" than the European trip.

I felt envious. I used to have days like theirs. I used to feel so excited about going to Europe and visiting New York. Now, after traveling to Europe 5 times and living in New York for 8 months, I doubted if I still could have that kind of passion like this. I just felt jaded and cynic.
I guess when some dreams finally realize, they become a part of your daily life. Then, there is no longer the excitement.

The plane circled above New Jersey for almost an hour. It was completely dark outside. It could not land because there was no space at the LaGuadia Airport. We had to wait, wait, and wait. Now LaGuadia is the most delayed airport in the US, just like the City of New York is the most crowded city in the country. It takes longer for everything because there are too many people, too many flights.

Finally, the plane stopped circling and glide toward New York. Beneath us, I saw Staten Island (and its huge landfill), the beautiful curve of Verazzano Bridge. We were in Brooklyn.

Outside the window, the twin towers of World Trade Center was ahead of us. Looking closer, I could see the traffics on Brooklyn Bridge, Manhattan Bridge, and Williamsburg Bridge. I guessed it was quite congested down there. Behind the downtown skyscrapers, I saw the blue, white, red lights shining on the Empire State Building, and not so far away, the spiky rooftop of Chrysler Building. With all the neon lights and skyline, Manhattan at night is so beautiful.

The landscape of New York is, indeed, dreamy.

I suddenly realized the reasons why I had worked so hard and tried so many times, just for moving to New York. I was always dazzled and intrigued by this city's beauty and its abundance. I had always been longing for a city with so many cultural activities and diversity. This is a city where I could see "Yi-Yi" before any of my friends all over the world. It had been always in the lanscape of my dreams. Now dreams became reality. I get too used to it and no longer feel so excited. Or maybe I'm just getting old?

Maybe I just have too much to learn, about life, about dreams, and many other things...

And about driving.

Now I, am, home. In New York.

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series : Part Three: Escape from New York

Originally posted 6/15/2001

It is hard to see how a finally realized dream can turn sour and bitter, especially after you dream that dream for almost 7 years. It is not beautiful, just like finding out trapped in a bad marriage not long after you marry the man of your dream.
That is exactly how I feel about New York City now.

I tried to get in Columbia in 1995 but didn’t make it (ironically, I got into a higher ranked school in Baltimore). I tired to find a job in New York since 1997, even I was only half way through my degree program. After I graduated from my Doctoral Degree, I traveled to New York so many times on the uncomfortable Greyhound bus just for job interviews. I 'discovered' Park Slope, a very gentrified neighborhood in Brooklyn in 1999 and fell in love with it immediately. Eventually, I got a job offer at SUNY Downstate Medical Center at the end of 1999. Okay, it is in Brooklyn (and a not very appealing part of Brooklyn), not Manhattan. But it is still New York City. And I can live in Park Slope, which is not too far from the Medical Center, I thought.

Then after ordeals of the first 9 months of 2000, wading through the messes created by US Consulates in Canada and Taiwan, I finally was able to move to New York to start my new job and new life. I thought my dream finally realized.

However, after the overblown real estate hype in 2000, most of Brooklyn is no long affordable. Park Slope now is more expensive than anywhere in Washington/Baltimore metro area. Even the less heard Prospect Height, Carroll Garden, and Fort Greene are with average one-bed room starting at $1,300 or more. Manhattan is even more out of reach. So I had to end up in Queen’s and commute more than one hour (each way) to work every day.

At the beginning, I still could enjoy the long commute. On my way home, I always got off somewhere in Manhattan, went to have dinner at some small but nice bistro, or went to see some obscure art-house movies. I moved out of a friend’s place and moved into the attic of a Chinese-run guest house. With rent at only $500 per month (20 to 30% of what I could have found in Park Slope for the same size), I thought I could save a lot of money for many of my hobbies (such as: travels, of course). The attic is not very comfortable and the guest house is not very clean. It takes almost 15 minutes to get to the nearest subway station (then one and half hours' train ride to work). Since I decided to buy an apartment of my own in New York, I wouldn’t stay there very long. I thought.

Seven months later, I still live there. The daily long commute started to wear me out. I’m no longer interested in eating out at different restaurants in Manhattan. The rush hour crowdness on the No. 4 or 5 Express is so intolerable. While my research progress hasn’t gone very well, my social life really, really sucks. I did almost everything alone (unless my friends visit me from Central New Jersey), like a lost soul wandering in the Manhattan’s concrete jungle.

Eight months after I moved to New York, I still haven’t made any new friends outside of my own ethnic group. My co-workers are more distant than those in Baltimore and Boston. And this time around, I no longer have any classmates.

After I got sick from a very bad flu in March, I was in severe depression again. On the long subway ride to work every morning, I kept wondering it is worthwhile for me to have worked so hard, to just move to New York. Somehow, I missed past life in Taipei, Washington DC, Boston, and even Baltimore. I can think about one hundred reasons to love about New York. Then, I can find 101 reasons to hate it. There are a few of them:

Too may rich people around, I mean "very" rich people, so...
Things become very expensive. A Cosmopolitan (Martini-type cocktail, in case you don’t know) cost at least $7 at most restaurants and bars. They only cost $5 in Chicago
Subway system really sucks, constant breaking down and re-routing. But you just cannot live without it.
Rats, rats, rats...
Waiters with bad attitude everywhere. Hey, you might be a actor/singer/writer whose talents haven’t been discovered and hate your current job. But at least, this is the only job you get paid for...
Snobbish bartenders. Yes, I know what Long Island Ice Tea is not really tea!
How come it is so difficult to meet people in this city?

Fortunately, a trip to San Francisco in late March, a trip that reconnect me with several old friends, dragged me back from my depression. So I decided I should get out of New York more often (No, I don’t mean going to New Brunswick, New Jersey...).

Maybe my luck just turned around after that San Francisco trip. I was bumped out of a direct flight from New York to Savannah. However, I was awarded a $350 coupon. Two weeks later, I arranged a trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico. I will drive with my good friend around the American Southwest, for the first time.

"Is there anything fun there in New Mexico? I thought it is mostly desert?" Nelson, one of my friends from Taiwan asked.

"Yes, it is mostly desert and most places are very desolate and barren." I said.

"Are there very few people living there?"

"I guess so."

"Then, why going there? A place with all desert and no people?"

I didn’t answer. But I thought, after living in New York for eight months, what I need is a place with as few people as possible.

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series : Part Two: The Real New Millennium

Originally posted on 12/24/2001, written on 01/01/2001

This new day began with a "01/01/01" shown on my cell phone and computer.

Outside my bedroom window, the accumulated snow from a snowstorm two days ago doesn’t seem to go away. The temperature will be in high 20 degrees (-1 C to-5 C) for next few days, so those piles of snow won’t go anywhere for a while. It is so beautiful to see everything surrounding me covered by powdery white color. Even piles of garbage bags on the roadside (a lot of them in New York) don’ft look that annoying as usual. A song by Stella Chang (張清芳) "The Snow Fall too Early" (雪下得太早) suddenly popped to my mind. "Snow is the tears that heaven sheds for broken-hearted people, it just cover up all their wounds so perfectly." Maybe this is a good sign to end my year 2000.

2000, indeed, was the worst year ever in my life.

An extremely painful visa problem, an uncertain job situation, two rejected journal papers, five failed submission for literature awards, and a very uninteresting trip to a supposedly very intriguing country. People said it was the Millennium Year (a fake one though), and people said it was "The Year of Golden Dragon" (in Chinese lunar calendar). For me, it was a year of failed promises and broken dreams. I used to think 1999 was the worst year in my life, but then 2000 just claimed the honor.

Though finally I was able to start my new job and relocate to the city I always wanted to live for the past five years. The bitterness and uncertainty remains. The visa problem is not completely solved. No news yet from my re-submitted paper. The current housing situation is unsatisfactory and it took really long for me to catch up with my new job. But I know I will be productive in my work again. I will write more papers for academic journals and some new travelogues and stories for literature publication.

I spent the last day of 2000 wandering around New York, alone. I suddenly felt like to see the Ocean, so I went to Brighton Beach to see the Atlantic. The sand dune was also covered by a lot of snow and made it very hard to walk along. It was okay for me, I get used to challenge and now I should get used to all types of difficult paths in life. Looking west, I witnessed the last sunset of 20th Century. It was possibly the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen. Cold air seems to make the sky bluer.

In the evening, I went to a private party, watching the Big New Year’s Eve Countdown in the Times Square on TV. I was there last year but just couldn’t get much closer into Times Square. A first major failure of my 2000. This year, I would plan things not as inaccessible. Also I was told, only tourists go to Times Square for the Countdown, real New Yorkers don’t do that. This time around, I am a New Yorker.

Before the stroke of midnight approached, I pondered "All the bitterness will eventually pass. My heart will go on." "Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow is also another year, another century, and another millenium. Things should be different. If they aren’t, I will make them different." I told myself.

Finally, tomorrow is today.

Happy New Year and welcome to 21st Century.

Saricie on 01/01/01

[Old Articles] "Life in New York" Series ; Part One: Autumn in New York

Originally posted on 12/24/2001, written in November 2000

Now I call myself a New Yorker.

It's been exactly 2 months after I started this new position at State University of New York's (SUNY) Downstate Medical Center. From the name, you might not know it is in fact inside New York City. It is not as famous or in glamorous locations like New York University and Columbia U. but the institute is smaller and thus more intimate. It is also not as competitive and workaholic like in Johns Hopkins U. or Harvard. I also registered as post-doc back in JHU, so I still have to travel back to my well-hated Baltimore every now and then.
I moved to New York at the beginning of autumn, so I barely escaped the horrifying heat of summer. Unfortunately, due to the extremely high rental cost in New York, I still don't really have my own place at this moment. I slept at my friend's sofa coach for three weeks before I settled in the attic of a Chinese guest house in Flushing (a district full of Asian immigrants in the borough of Queen's, it's half an hour's subway ride from Manhattan). The owners are from Mainland China. Residents on other floors change on daily basis but there are always so many people in this house. I think I will move very soon. Since buying an apartment of my own may be cheaper than renting one, I am shopping for my first real estate property these days.

My job hasn't got too stressful yet. I have read a lot of background information and papers in HIV/AIDS prevention and epidemiology. The focus of our department is especially on minority women. However, I do have some problems to start my own research project. Indeed, this is not exactly the same field as in my PhD research (which is depression and suicide epidemiology). Long commuting from Flushing to Brooklyn (70 to 100 minutes) also wears me out often. I do have a lot of chance to enjoy the ever-changing scenes of New York. The very talked about "World/Subway Baseball Series" (both teams in the final are from NYC) was over almost one month ago, but I still remember how people in this city were crazy about it. I also went to the Halloween Parade on the last night of October, watching a lot skeletal puppets wandering on the 6th Avenue. There were also some small film festivals I went to. All the festivals had opening receptions, which served a lot of free cocktails.... Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get in the really glamorous ones.

A movie really impressed me is Taiwanese director, Edward Yang's (楊德昌) "Yi-Yi" (一一). I couldn't believe that it cannot find a releaser back home in Taiwan (but got one in New York). It is a really great movie. The family in the film lives just a few blocks from my parents' apartment and the kid in the movie even goes to Long-Ann Elementary School (the same as I), so I feel extremely intimate about it. It is very long (3 hours) but really warm your hearts. In fact, I think it is better than the Oscar winning "American Beauty". Too bad that Taiwanese moviegoers cannot see this movie anytime soon.

After a Thanksgiving break in New Orleans (11/23), I'm back to work again. Though it is officially still autumn now, I feel it is really winter. The Christmas is approaching, so I will see a shopping frenzy in this city. The huge Christmas tree will be lit up at Rockefeller Center and Christmas carols will be sung everywhere. For the first time, I will celebrate Christmas in my favorite city in the world.

After a long and harsh year, this should be a good way to conclude a millennium.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

The Unfinished Europe

Posted: August 21, 2006

So, after this Eastern European trip, I pretty much finished seeing all the countries in the mainland of this most complicated, intriguing , and culturally rich continent in the world. Or, have I?

There are actually still a few countries I haven't been to. I decided not to visit some of them due to complicated visa regulation, or just simply that "they were not on the way for me to get somewhere"...

Belarus (白俄羅斯): Unlike Ukraine, Belarus still requires entry visa from everybody who wants to travel there and it is expensive. And different from Ukraine, it is actually not a very interesting country (it is landlocked by the way). Last time I checked, I think it is $100 for a single entry visa to get into that country. When I was in Vilnius, Lithuania, it is merely 4 hours bus ride to Minsk. But, was it worth it to make a trip there? At least I didn't think so at that moment.

Moldova (and its breakaway Republic of Transdniester; 摩達維亞及外聶斯特共和國): Again, the visa requirement ($65 or $85) was the main issue that made me skip this country. I was already losing time by not able to get into Romania from Ukraine. Thus, I also did not have spare time to travel to this Romania's next door neighbor. I did see a bus that left for Chisinau (Moldovan capital) when I was at Lviv station. Unfortunately, without a proper visa, I could not just jump on that bus and head to Moldova. I heard they are repealing the visa regulation in April 2007. Hopefully...It should be fun to visit Europe's poorest country anyway (yes, Albania, you finally moved up from the No.1 at the bottom).

Transdniester is very tricky to visit. Though they claim everybody needs visa to enter that region, there is no way to apply for a Transdniester visa (no country in the world recognizes them, so there is no Transdniester consulate anywhere to apply entry visa, believe it or not!). So you are on the mercy of a border guard to decide how much "entry visa" they want you to pay when you get there...Maybe it is not a good time to visit it yet.

Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (馬其頓): Somewhat awkwardly sandwiched between Bulgaria and Albania. This country chose to build a diplomatic relationship with Taiwan and then later dumped us. Okay, I know they were practically forced at knife point by China. But I do still have some problems with their unfaithful behavior...

Kosovo (科索伏): Not really a country but somewhat de facto independent from Serbia already. Again, it is in a awkward geographical position for me to visit (can only get there from either Macedonia or Albania). There may not be too many things to see anyway (I heard the capital, Prishtina, is quite ugly).

San Marino (聖馬利諾), Luxemburg(盧森堡): Too small to locate them....just joking! But they are usually not "on the way" for me to travel to anyway.

Malta (馬爾他), Ireland (愛爾蘭), Iceland(冰島): Mmmm...they are not on the "mainland" of Europe, so...

both Cypruses (南北塞浦路斯): Are they even really in Europe (even the Southern Republic is in E.U. now)?

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Part 30: The Grand Finale - What's Left of Me

What's Left of Me

Date: Wednesday, Aug 16, 2006
Place: Taipei, Taiwan

I was very sleepy when I boarded the flight from Bangkok to Taipei. I hardly had any sleep the night before, spending a lot of time channel surfing but watched the MTV Chinese channel through the night eventually (still showing too many Jolin Tsai videos in my view). Of course I fell asleep immediately after the plane took off.

Three hours later, the plane had already flown into Taiwan's territory. The island looked quite sunny today. The sky was blue and relatively cloudless. It was a good day to celebrate birthday.

Thinking back this whole trip, even though I just left Taiwan 6 weeks ago, it felt like six months. If I counted the Western Balkan trip before that, and the South American trip before that, it seemed that I had been traveled for 2 or 3 years.

After this Eastern Europe trip, I was several thousand dollars poorer and now a person without any camera. I also left with many extra stamps in my passport and numerous bitemarks on my feet (thanks to those bloodsuckers in Transylvania).

However, the most important thing is, what is left of me may not be much materially, but I actually feel wealthier in the invisible parts. After this trip, I start to believe again, a dream can come true. A missing passport could not stop it, a miserable interview could not abort it, even the theft of my precious could not erase the great memories of it.

Yes, it is a great gift for my grand 30 birthday and I was just in time for the celebration.

Next stop: Home.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Part 29: One Night in Bangkok Makes...

One Night in Bangkok Makes...

Date: Tuesday, Aug 15, 2006
Place: Bangkok, Thailand

I did not wake up until around 2 pm. However, it was still 10 am in Sofia, Bucharest, Athens, Lviv, Tallinn, Vilnius, and Riga; Okay, even based on European time, I was up a little late.

Earlier that morning, arriving at Bangkok International Airport before 6 am, I decided to stay in a hotel near the Airport, instead of one in Bangkok city center. Since I would have an early flight the next day back to Taipei, it was better for me to stay near the Airport. The traffic condition in Bangkok is usually horrific. A bus ride from the center to the Airport may turn into a 2-hours' agonizing ride.

Now I woke up at Asia Hotel Airport, which is located right above a suburban shopping mall, with a lot of mini-shops that sell IT products. I walked into an air-conditioned noodle shop to have some Thai rice noodle (those pictures in the front made my mouth watering). However, I could not even decipher a bit of the menu. With those bean-sprout like alphabets, it looks far more difficult than either Ukrainian or Greek. I had to point to the pictures at front desk to show what I wanted. The waitress looked puzzled. I tried to use some very simple English (Sorry that I cannot say anything in Thai except "thank you" and Sawadeeka!) but she still looked confused. Eventually she realized that I am not Thai and I was not able to understand her. She went around to locate any co-worker who could speak any bit of English. It is a familiar scenario for me in the past few months.

Well, I was still traveling. And yes, I was still in a foreign country where I cannot understand their language (or even their alphabet). But this time it was somewhat different, people around me actually had no idea that I am a foreigner. For them, I look just like one of them.

I was not home yet but now feeling closer to home.

I did not plan much to do in my one-night stay in Bangkok. I was here two years ago for a conference and stayed for more than a week. I pretty much saw most major sights here. I just wanted to go to Kao San Road to have some bargain hunting, and to have some spicy drunken noodles afterwards.

Two years ago, I did walk around Kao San Road and found some interesting things. I did not buy anything. Two years and nearly 30 countries later, I realized how cheap things in Bangkok are. Many things here are even cheaper than in countries actually poorer than Thailand (Guatemala, Romania, just to name a few). I wanted to collect some travel related products. (and maybe some fake ID but I eventually decided that was a bad idea). I bought the national flag patches of the countries I traveled to in the past few years. Too bad that they don't have flags of Albania and Montenegro.

On my way walking to Hua Lamphong railway station, I ran into 3 French backpackers. It seemed they were lost. They inquired if I speak English. "Yes, but I am not a local." But since I was in Bangkok before, I was able to help them decipher the map. It turned out they were traveling around Thailand and this was their first trip to Asia. They were heading to Chiang Mai, so Hua Lamphong should also be the direction they headed to.

After saying goodbye to them at the train station, I headed to the subway station just beneath. I used to envy those foreign backpackers who can put their life on their back and traveled to almost wherever they want to go. They bring as little as possible and make their itinerary flexible. That used to be one of my biggest dreams in my life. However, I did not have that kind of freedom, I did not have a passport that can facilitate me entering many countries easily, and no, I just did not have that much time.

But no, I am no longer jealous of them. Not anymore.

After the trip I just completed, I know I am now one of them.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Part 28: The End of Second Balkan Trip

End of the Second Balkan Trip

Date: Monday, Aug 14, 2006
Place: Athens, Greece

Due to the unpleasant experience and loss of property on the train D381 from Krakow to Sighisoara, I no longer feel safe to take an overnight train in Eastern Europe. From Sofia to Athens by train, it is a very long train ride, maybe more than 12 hours. Also, I would have to change train in Thessaloniki, Greece's second largest city in the North. To save time, I would need to take an overnight train from Sofia to Thessaloniki, but I didn't want to take overnight train...

So I bought an one-way ticket on Aegean Air from Sofia to Athens. With a cost more than 100 Euro, it may be more than the total amounts I spent in my 2 and 1/2 days in Bulgaria (:( But at least that afforded me more time to see Bulgaria and also have better sense of security by flying.

Compared to Greece's notorious national airline, Olimpics (which I heard the service is very unfriendly), Aegean seems a "boutique airline" like AirBerlin. The seat is comfortable and they even offered two (small) sandwiches on an one and an half hours' flight!
I did not go into the city of Athens after my arrival. I have seen enough of Athens by now. Since there are still many Greek islands I would like to explore in the future, I know I will still have opportunities to come back I guess.

After more than 4 hours' wait and wandering around in the Airport, I finally boarded the Thai flight to Bangkok.

Saying farewell to the Continent I like to travel to most, I know I will be back. Maybe to another different (set of) country(ies). Very soon, I think.

Monday, November 6, 2006

Part 27: The Byzantine Glory - Sofia, Bulgaria

The Byzantine Glory

Date: Sunday, Aug 13, 2006
Place: Sofia, Bulgaria

After having another sumptuous breakfast at Hiker's Hostel, I packed my stuff and headed to my final destination in Eastern Europe.
It was only 3 hours' bus from Veliko Tarnovo to the capital of Bulgaria: Sofia.

Using Skype, the staff at Hiker's Hostel had already help me book a bed at Hostel Mostel (http://hostelmostel.com/index.html) in Sofia. Just following the instruction from the hostel's booklet, I took a tram from bus station to Sofia city center.

Though it is a capital city and has more than 1 million residents, Sofia felt smaller than I expected. Maybe because it was Sunday, there was not that much traffic on the main streets, Boulevard Mariya Luiza and Boulevard Vitosha. Hostel Mostel lies just 2 to 3 blocks from Boulevard Vitosha and an easy walk to most of the interesting sites in the Center. When I checked in, I was told that not only breakfast and internet access are included, at 7 pm everyday, they also serve a free beer and a portion of pasta (!). Yes, it is also 10 Euro per night, like Hiker's Hostel and most other hostels in Bulgaria.

Since I would fly to Athens to catch my intercontinental flight next morning, I only had an afternoon to see Sofia. While Hostel Mostel does organize trips to Rila Monastery, the greatest Orthodox monastery in Bulgaria, I did not have enough time to do that. The trip usually takes a whole day and leaves in the mid-morning. Again, maybe next time...

Fortunately, it is not difficult to finish all the sights in town in a few hours. Sofia is a quite walkable city and many sights are no more than 10 minutes' walk from each others.

I walked south along Boulevard Vitosha, to see the National Palace of Culture. It was built to celebrate Bulgaria's 1300 birthday in 1981. Now it houses several restaurants, cinemas, and concert halls. Its origin and function are quite similar to the Palace of Culture in Warsaw. However, this "palace" looks very bland and not even half as interesting as its counterpart in Warsaw. However, the park surrounding the Palace is nice and joyful. In addition, ice cream from the parlor just outside of the Palace is tasty (0.5 Euro).

Because Bulgaria has traditionally been an Orthodox Christian country (which is in line with the Byzantine heritage centered in Constantinpole, today's Istanbul), there are a lot of beautiful orthodox churches all over town. Aside from Orthodox Christians, with 12% of its population Turkish, there is also a sizable Muslim population. One 500-year old mosque, Banya Boshi Mosque, lies just north of the center and across the street from fancy TSUM Department store. Not far away, behind the central Market Hall, is Sofia's grand Synagogue. Though allied with Nazi Germany in the World war II (Bulgaria has been historically always allied themselves with the wrong sides, really), Bulgaria actually was one of few countries protecting their Jewish population (at least within their border) being slaughtered in Holocaust. Though many Bulgarian Jews emigrated to Israel after the communist regime took over, some of their cultural heritage survived. It is interesting to visit a place with complicated heritage like this. And unlike Sarajevo, another multi-cultured city, ethnic and religious differences never seem to evolve into a unrepressable mutual hatred here.

Of course, most of Bulgaria's grand past is associated with its Byzantine connection, mainly the multi-domed Orthodox churches. Among all the churches, the most famous one is definitely Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. It was erected from 1904 to 1912 in memory of 200,000 Russians who fought alongside Bulgarians for its independence in 1878. It is possibly the most popular tourist site in Sofia. At its middle, a huge gold dome that is surrounded by several lower emerald-colored domes. Inside, more than 400 frescoes were contributed by artists from Bulgaria and Russia. When I was inside, a choir started to sing their Sunday gospel.

Unfortunately, after I finished the Icon Museum in the crypt of Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, all other museums or churches had all closed. I walked to both Banya Boshi Mosque and the Synagogue (there is a Jewish museum in the synagogue) but could only see them from outside. Before I headed back to Hostel Mostel for its nightly beer/pasta feast, I walked into the Central Market Hall, just next to the Synagogue. It was clean and spacious. Both cooked food and raw ingredients are sold there. It looks like a smaller and less touristy version of the Grand Market Hall in Budapest, the first Eastern European city I visited this year back in May. However, unlike the one in Budapest, there were hardly any foreign tourists in this market hall.

Unlike Budapest, Sofia, or even the whole Bulgaria is still waiting to be discovered. There are still not as many foreign travelers as in other new E.U. members like Latvia, Estonia, and Poland. Compared to its mega-popular, super-touristy neighbors Greece and Turkey, Bulgaria still has that kind of feel like a bride forgotten right outside of a wedding chapel. But maybe no more. Just like Romania, Bulgaria is scheduled to enter E.U. in January, 2007. While some budget airlines, like Eastern Europe based SkyEurope and WizzAir start to fly to Sofia this year, tourists to Bulgaria started to change from trickle to bigger drops. This year, New York Times Travel Section named Bulgaria as one of "the destinations of 2006". The wait may be over and their time is almost here.

In Your Pocket Guide: Sofia

A NYT Article: Sofia, Bulgaria: An Ancient City That Wears Its History Well

Thursday, November 2, 2006

Part 26: A Welcomed Change of Mindset - Getting into Bulgaria

A Welcomed Change of Mindset

Date: Saturday, Aug 12, 2006
Place: Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria

When I stepped into my compartment on the train D499, it was nearly full. There were already 4 people in the 6-person compartment.
Later a small Japanese girl with a nosering came in. I found that I was the only person headed to Bulgaria. All other passengers would terminate their trip in Istanbul, Turkey. Bulgaria was a merely a transit country for them.

It takes nearly 19 hours to reach Istanbul from Bucharest, so this train wouldn't be in Istanbul until the next morning. Fortunately for me (a person no longer willing to take any overnight train in Eastern Europe), I would reach my destination, Veliko Tarnovo, by 8 pm. It should be just in time for dinner.

Except for a Turkish woman from Ankara, all other passengers in my compartment are backpackers from outside the Balkan Region. The Kiwi (New Zealand) woman sat across from me had been to Turkey before and this was her second trip. She loves Turkey quite a lot. Two British guys traveled all over Europe for their first "grand Eurotrip" like many other Western Europeans I ran into; the Japanese girl was quiet most of the time. When she spoke, we found out she actually lived in Denmark and also came down for her "grand Eurotrip." The Turkish woman did not speak much English but it was interesting to find out her mother is Romanian mother, and thus she speaks Romanian fluently and traveled between two countries regularly. Strangely, none of them really planned to spend much time in Bulgaria, a country sandwiched between Romania and Turkey.

Wow! After the unfortunate D381, at least the fun of train trip in Europe temporarily returned (This would also be my last rain ride in this European trip): meeting fellow backpackers and exchange travel tips, talking about what we have seen in the world and what we love most. The Kiwi woman even had a bottle of red wine and a lot of vegetarian snacks (I seemed to be the only one enjoying those snacks). She talked about her experience in Eastern Turkey and Republic of Georgia (no, don't expect there is any sign in English); while one of the Brits is history-major and used to travel on an overland trip (but not with Dragoman) across Africa, all the way from London to Cape Town (something I may do in the future). This was a nice group of people to spend a night with in a tight train compartment, but I had to get off somewhere in the midway.

After crossing the Danube and entering Bulgaria, the sky seemed to be bluer. There are few houses along the rail tracks after we left Ruse. Bulgaria is a less populous country than Romania. With those Cyrillic alphabets, it feels exotic again. We passed by many sunflower fields. Like those sunflower fields I remember when traveling in Spain, I started to feel I was back to the Mediterranean region again. Indeed, compared to other Eastern European countries, Bulgaria feels more of Mediterranean than Continental.

The train was one hour late when it arrived in Veliko Tarnovo (Delay seems a norm in this part of the world and I hope they would arrive in Istanbul by lunch time. :\). As I requested on Hiker's Hostel website (http://www.hikers-hostel.org/vt/), a driver did show up at the station to pick me up. Though it took me a little while (after listening to too many scary stories in Romania) to believe in him that he was really the representative sent by the Hostel. (Since he kept saying he came to pick up a traveler from Australia, well, now even I think I look like an Aussi!)

Veliko Tarnovo ("Велико Търново" in Bulgarian) was the ancient capital of Bulgaria (from 1185 to 1393). When Bulgaria finally declared independence from Turkey in 1879, they chose to write their first constitution here. Though no longer a major city like current capital Sofia, V. Tarnovo still holds a special place in Bulgarians' heart. Perched on the slopes above the crooked Yantra River Valley, there are many winding hilly streets with hundred-years old buildings. Though not very far from the town thoroughfare, Hikers Hostel is hidden in a hilly back alley. It is very difficult to locate for a first visitor. Fortunately there was the driver taking me all the way up there from the station.

Just as what "Let's East Europe" introduces, the terrace outside has a great panoramic view of the Tsarevets Fortress across the valley and mountains nearby. By the time Andrea, the driver, and I reached the Hostel, it was almost dark.

"You are lucky today." Andrea told me, "They have a free barbecue tonight."

I was assigned to a 12-bed room on the second floor. The space is quite tight and there is no locker. But the room is clean. Again, like other youth hostels in Eastern Europe, breakfast is included and Internet is free (there are two terminals). All this cost 10 Euro, a little less than the ones in Romania. There are also local beers for sale at the reception. Each cost 0.5 Euro.

View of the nearby mountains from the second floor terrace in at Hiker's Hostel

View of Tsarrevets Fortress from Hiker's Hostel. Look closer, the building on top of the hill is the Church of the Ascension.

Just like the barbeque I had back in my first night in Krakow, the atmosphere was great. I had opportunities to sample Bulgarian sausages and meatcakes and talking to travelers from all over the world. Aside from beer we purchased, the staff also brought out some Bulgarian red wine. Again, there were four Dutch guys traveling together, though less drunk than those four I ran into in Krakow (Do Dutch guys like to travel in the group of four? A good number to Ma-Jong!). Again, there are some Australians and Brits (and one Americans). And again, I was the only "yellow" person there (though one Australian guy seems to be half Asian)!

In many ways, Bulgaria was a welcome change from Romania. The weather was nicer and the hostel more comfortable. People seem to be more polite, speak better English, and (surprisingly) things are even cheaper. Veliko Tarnovo is a small place and there may not be many things to see. However, sensing that it is difficult to find such a comfy hostel with a good view and layback atmosphere , I decided to delay my trip to Sofia and stay in Veliko for another night.

The next days, all the Aussis and Dutches were gone and the hostel became very quiet. The breakfast was amazingly sumptuous, with a lot of cold cut meats and two types of juice. I spent quite a lot of time enjoying my breakfast and did not head out until after 11 am.
My first stop is the ancient Tsarevets Fortress (Хълмът Царевец, check this website if you CAN read Bulgarian¡Kat least they have good pictures of the Fortress), former home to many former Bulgarian tsars (沙皇). Most of the citadel was destroyed in the Turkish invasion, but a long stretch of the wall survived and several towers still stand til' this day. At the top of hill stand a beautiful church, Church of the Ascension, with a lot of beautiful Orthodox style frescoes (painted in 1981 when Bulgaria celebrated its 1300th birthday).

From the Church, there is a great panoramic view of Yantra River Valley down below.

Later I walked along the curved streets of Veliko and reached the National Revival Museum. I guess there were not too many visitors since the staff so happy to see me dropping in (entrance fee: 4 lv or 2 Euro). It houses items from Bulgarian National Revival Movement (in late 19th century when they fought for independence from Turkey). It even has the chamber where the first Bulgarian Parliament held it meeting and its constitution. However, with most documents only in Bulgarian, it didn't help too much for me to understand this country¡¦s struggle to gain its independence. However, pictures of some old stone houses all over Bulgaria are interesting to me.

After having a late lunch on the main street, I went to buy a new, disposable camera. After feeling miserable for more than a week after I lost my cherished camera, I finally decided I really needed to start taking pictures again. Now I am in such a lovely country, I should not leave my photo album blank.

This hilly street leads all the way up to the Hiker's Hostel. Some of the buildings look very historic.

A view from the main street.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Part 25: The No Longer Bitter End of the Danube - Leaving Romania

The No Longer Bitter End of the Danube

Date: Friday, Aug 11, 2006
Place: Danube Crossing to Bulgaria, Romania

In Robert Kaplan's "Balkan Ghosts", which I had read more than once before heading to Eastern Europe, the chapter about Romania is the most fascinating one (better than the one about former Yugoslavia, I have to say). Reading through, it seemed that Romania was a country completely traumatized and full of miserable and fucked up people, after so many years of poverty and dictatorships. The time of his visit was 1990, only half a year after Romanian people rose up in a very bloody revolution to overthrow the communist dictator, Nicolae Ceausescu. The wounds and scars after his 24 year tyranny (1965-1989) were still very fresh. Poverty was everywhere and people were pessimistic, resentful, and suspicious. It felt like a piece of Africa in Europe.

In another book I read, Bruce Benderson's "The Romanian," (Published in 2004) The author fell in love with a Romanian prostitute from Sibiu and moved to live with him in Bucharest in the summer of 2000. Due to the visa restriction to Romanians at that time, the author could not bring his lover to either U.S. or western European countries. He then intercut the modern history of Romania and how prolonged national poverty and incapable governments had made Romanian such a miserable and irresponsible people. In the book, Romania merely 6 years ago, though with enormous beauty and history, was still a quite dangerous and menacing place. It was a land full of despair, extortion, and suspicion. And yes, he did mention those ubiquitous stray dogs, including a bitch just could not stop barking at him near Piata Unirii.

Now it is 2006. Romania is less than five months away from their scheduled entrance to the most envied "clubs" in the world (if things do not go wrong). They no longer require entry visas to most European countries. The economic growth is healthy and average incomes have increased a lot. And a recent NYT editorial described that Romania is the only Eastern Europe country currently led by a reformed government while many other E.U. Eastern European countries have gone back to conservatism. In many ways, I was visiting a Romania that was becoming a different place from Kaplan’s, or even Benderson’s Romania.

After we were stamped at the border control in Giurgiu, we were technically "out of" Romania. However, only when the train passes the Danube River, we were officially out of Romanian territory. Danube is the natural border between Romania and its neighboring countries.

Finally we reached Danube (多瑙河). Not only I, but everyone in my cabin, stood up from our seats and look at this great river as we were passing it. The mighty Danube! I had crossed this river several times over the years. Just a few months ago, I crossed Chain Bridge and Elizabeth Bridge in Budapest; later in the same week, I walked across the rebuilt bridges (destroyed by NATO in 1999) in Novi Sad and Belgrade, Serbia; in a cold winter afternoon, I walked across the UFO-like New Bridge in Bratislava, Slovakia. Tracing back many years ago, I even stayed in a hotel overlooking the Danube in Vienna; and in that same trip, I vaguely remember crossing a small stream in southern Germany and later found it is the upper stream of the Danube.

Yes, by summer of 2006, I had been to all four capitals the Danube flows through and even its upper stream. However, I had never been to its downstream. And definitely I have not yet visited where this great river empties into the sea. Being the natural border of Romania and Bulgaria, Danube flows further east and turns north in eastern Romania, forms a large delta, and empties into Black Sea. This is how the most important and influential river of Europe meets its end. Danube Delta is famous for bird-watching and fishing activities. Due to that my whole travel plan was messed up by my fiasco in Ukraine, and depression later resulted from my stolen cameras, I did not have chance traveling to the Danube Delta, to see where Danube ends.

Kaplan did travel where Danube ends in 1990. He took a barge to Sfantu Gheorghe, the small town on Black Sea shore where Danube’s south arm ends. He met a lot of weird and unpleasant people, most were alcoholic and grimly looking. Aptly, He named that section "The Danube’s bitter end," (『多瑙河的淒苦盡頭』) Coincidentally, the Chinese translation of Danube is the same pronunciation with "River of a lot of worries" (多瑙河 = 多惱河?)

Now, in this summer of 2006, as I was crossing Danube once again, I kept thinking: is the country where Danube ends still so bitter? Or the sense of misery and bitterness has finally subsided and is replaced by hopes and optimism? Looking at the ubiquitous E.U. flags alongside Romanian flags, maybe that symbolizes their hope for a better tomorrow. E.U. has already helped several members, such as Ireland, to become much wealthy countries. From this trip, I learned that Romania is still not an easy country to travel around. No matter how guidebooks or newspaper articles make it sounds like a chic and trendy new destination, there still are so many rough edges to be softened. But I think with the help from E.U., life will only improve in a long run.

So I think I will come back, after all. Maybe next year, maybe in a few years. And when next time I drop by, I will travel to the Delta, to see the Danube’s no longer bitter end.

We finished the 4 kilometers' Danube crossing and we were over land again. It is another country now. The train stopped at the platform of a quite large city. I was about to pass the custom of my last destination country of this Eastern Europe trip.

Friday, October 27, 2006

Part 24: Bucharest - The Most Avoided Capital in Eastern Europe

The Most Avoided Capital in Europe

Date: Friday, Aug 11, 2006
Place: Bucharest, Romania

By the sixth day in Romania, I had heard enough horror stories about Bucharest from fellow travelers.
One night, sitting at the dining table in Rolling Stone Hostel, people started to talk about the experiences they just had there (unlike me, they traveled northbound from southern Romania.) The stories unfolded like this:

1) Two Americans booked their hostel beds through hostelworld.com and paid 10% fee online, but surprised that Funky Chicken Hostel had overbooked when they arrived. It was already dark, but they had to head back to streets to find another hostel. They were surrounded by several Gypsy kids. With a lot bags and luggage on them, they found some of the bags¡¦ zippers had been opened. Fortunately, maybe the cops showed up or something, the kids suddenly flocked.

2) In Gara de Nord (the North Station), the same Americans encountered some ¡§helpful locals¡¨ who volunteered to take them to their train. Once they reached their wagon, the guy said he usually charged 25 Lei (7 Euro) for ¡§that type of service¡¨ (helping people find their train). With their tickets still in this guy¡¦s hand, they just paid the 25 Lei!

3) This one is the most scary: two Dutch guys walked out of the North Station, a guy approached them and said he was the representative sent by so-and-so youth hostel. Since these two Dutch guys happened to have reservation at the so-and-so hostel, they gladly left with this guy. They got on a taxi and the taxi took them to some vacant lot. The guy got off the taxi and asked them to bring their luggage and walk to the roadside with him. There was no house (or even something resembled a ¡§hostel¡¨) nearby and the Dutch guys only saw maybe 3 or 4 persons standing at the roadside waiting for them. The Dutch guys suddenly felt alert and worried that they may be beaten and robbed once they got to the roadside. They immediately ran back to the taxi, (maybe threw 50 Euro to the driver) and asked the driver to get off the lot as soon as possible. Wow, this started to sound like the movie "Hostel"!

Of course, many people I met in the Brasov hostel just simply avoided Bucharest all together. Some of them traveled only as far as Brasov in Romania (like those two Swedish girls I met); some of them headed directly to Black Sea resorts. Some planned to changed train in Bucharest (beware of the ¡§helpful locals¡¨!) but not even wanted to get out into the streets!

Is Bucharest so dangerous and undesirable?

"It sucks! It really sucks!" I remember three Irish girls told me.

"Mmm....I think we actually like it....maybe." After thinking for 20 seconds, an Austrian couple replied. They didn't sound too certain.

Opening Lonely Planet Romania, they makes Bucharest like a very fancy, newly trendy place: "Forget Prague, forget
Budapest, because Bucharest is where travelers are heading. This is Eastern Europe's secret .. but it's about to get out. (p. 51)"(Well, this edition was published in 2004, is the "secret" out by now?). But in its "Dangers and Annoyances" section, it did remember to mention several scams: fake hostel reps (as the Dutch guys encountered), taxi drivers take you circling the town and charge you 10 times than normal (or maybe 200 times, depends on your lucks. I heard the record was 700 Euro for a half an hour ride!), fake tourist police (later a Kiwi traveler I met in Bulgaria said he did encounter one just right outside of Bucharest Gara de Nord), among others.

The book does not even mention pickpocketing kids and stray dogs until the later general info chapter.

Stray dogs? For all of you who are afraid of mean barking dogs, Romania is a hell for you. According to some estimates posted on Internet, in Bucharest alone, there may be 200,000 stray dogs. And a posting (not sure an urban myth or not) reported that a Japanese woman was mauled to death just last January. I like dogs but not those mean, big bitches that threaten me. Another negative point for Bucharest.

So here I am, even before I headed to Bucharest, I was already afraid and disliked that city. I have never heard a European capital so disliked like this. Moscow, Paris, and Athens all have their haters, but you also find quite a few of their admirers. I already had have my precious belonging stolen once and still in very vulnerable moods. Should I even go there? I was traveling alone, so there was no companion watching out for me.

However, my plan was to travel south into Bulgaria, so I had to change train in Bucharest's notorious Gara de Nord anyway.

Later I decided not to stay overnight in Bucharest (not able to trust the reservation system of Bucharest hostels anyway). However, I planned a layover of two hours, so I should still have (very little) time to walk out of the station and see how this city is like. Hopefully I wouldn¡¦t run into fake police threatening to see my wallet and passport.

So off, checking out of Rolling Stone, I headed to Bucharest. Maybe it was a good sign, unlike those crappy trains I had taken in the past few days, the train from Brasov to Bucharest is a new and modern one. It is practically like those I took in Western Europe, clean and spacious. This may be one of the trains CFR just purchased from Switzerland.

I got off at the Gara de Nord and found the train leaving for Bulgaria. It is actually the train heading all the way to Istanbul, Turkey ("Are you looking for the train to Istanbul?" a menacing guy next to the train bulletin asked. "No, thanks!" I lied and then walked away as fast as possible). I stored my luggage at the luggage storage service (at 6 Lei, since I had a longer stopover), taking a deep breathe, I headed into the mean streets of Bucharest.

If there is only one thing I want to see in Bucharest, it is Palace of Parliament (Casa Poporului, or House of the People). It is the second largest building in the world, only after Pentagon outside of Washington DC. It was built in the twilight years of Romanian communism, a grandiose pet project of Romania¡¦s tyrant Ceaucescu. The whole project cost 3.3 billion Euro and possibly consumed 80% of Romanian GDP at that time (while at the same time Romanians were starved, no wonder they rose up and killed Ceaucescus in 1989). To build it, one-sixth of Bucharest was bulldozed. Many old historic buildings were lost forever. Today, many rooms in the Palace of Parliament remain empty and it is largely underused. In many ways, it is the symbol of communist atrocities and egocentrism.

"It is morally incorrect to tour a place like this!¨ Someone told me in the Brasov hostel.

From Gara de Nord, I hopped on the metro (subway) to reach the Palace. Even the experience in taking Bucharest metro is quite depressing. There are only seven stops but it took almost 30 minutes.

The metro cars are almost all covered with graffiti. The graffiti actually block the view from inside, and thus people cannot even see which stations they just arrive at until the doors open. The stations are also dim-lit and not well-marked. If I didn't count it (7th stop, 7th stop...), I might have not known which station to get off. The train was slow and usually stayed in each station for too long.

I got out of Izvor station and arrived at the northside of the Palace. There is a large park right in front of the Palace but not many people walking or cycling around. The surrounding area is like an ¡§urban wasteland¡¨ as some article implies. North of the park at distance, there are some ugly old socialist-style buildings. Maybe because the weather was gloomy that day (the weather had been mostly miserable since I entered Romania), the whole neighborhood felt grime. I walked toward the Palace, saw its entrance and box office for sightseeing tour, but decided not to enter. I just wanted to walk around it and see it from outside.

Yes, it is a really monstrous building. Walking from its north entrance to its eastern entrance, it took at least 10 minutes. East of the building is B-dul Unirii (Union Boulevard), leading to Piata Unirii (Union Square). This boulevard was intentionally one meter wider than Champs Elysee in Paris and originally named "Boulevard of the Victory of Socialism." It's another example of Ceaucescu's grandiose vision. However, there are some beautiful fountains along the boulevard and some modern shops (though also many graffiti). This is no Champs Elysee, but it is also not as bad as I thought.

I did not have enough time to wander around for too long. After walking another kilometer or two, reaching the grand fountain at Piata Unirii, I saw another metro station (named "Piata Unirii" naturally). I knew I had to get on the metro and went to catch my train to Bulgaria. Bucharest¡¦s surviving historic quarter lies just north of Piata Unirii, but I did not have time to see it. Indeed, two hours' stopover was not really enough.

I went back to the Gara de Nord, picked up my backpack, bought some nice pastry from Fioretti Bakery. Looking around, this is actually a relatively nice and clean train station (you need to show your passports or train ticket to be allowed in, the way that the government to prevent homeless and beggars from entering the station). But it was time to leave.

I did not run into any fake policeman, menacing Gypsy kids, muggers, beggars, or even stray dogs that terrified me. However, I only stayed here for two hours, in this most avoided capital in Eastern Europe. I just touched the surface of this place. Yes, Bucharest felt grime and depressing, but I guess I will have to drop by again.

And I did, one year later, and then another visit 5 years later.

But these are other trips, I will need to tell them some other time.

You can read an interesting recent article in New York Times Travel Section here (but please, still be careful when traveling to this "newly Bohemian City":

Next Stop: Bucharest: A Checkered Past Adds Intrigue to a Bohemian City

Downloadable "In Your Pocket" Guide for Bucharest