The Inside Track on Romance of the Rails

Here's an excerpt from my upcoming article for Emirates Open Skies Magazine.

There's something about long-distance train travel that conjures images of intrigue, mystery and romance. But why trains? Certainly, when you board a plane, you don't deign to imagine you will encounter a femme fatale or a mysterious masculine nomad in your row of seats. Certainly, when heading off on a 12-hour drive in a car, thoughts of rest-stop romances are the last thing on one's mind. But trains... Why is it almost a fait accompli that our minds expressly orient themselves to intrigue and enchantment upon embarking on an extended train trip?

Perhaps one can blame Dame Agatha Christie for this mysterious affair of perceived style. After all, she was among the first authors and auteurs of the 20th century to set a sweeping stumper on the rails. Murder on the Orient Express, published in 1934, is an enigmatic whodunit  (spoiler alert: the whole train dun it) starring Christie’s ace detective Hercule Poirot.  

Stepping on the bandwagon,  Ethel White followed  up with The Wheels Spin in 1936. The tale is more familiarly known as The Lady Vanishes, released by Alfred Hitchcock in film form in 1938. In the book, the heroine, suffering from heat exhaustion, discovers an elderly travel companion missing from the train. Adventure ensues. Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train (adapted from the Patricia Hightower book of the same name) has two passengers plotting criss-cross murders, whereby each is to knock off the other's bête noir. A more recent thriller-mystery set on a train is 2008's largely-overlooked Transsiberian. The film, starring Woody Harrelson and Emily Mortimer, adds modern-day gore to old-school mystery.

On the silver screen, though, romance on the rails often eclipses intrigue as a plot device. In many screenplays, young lovers meet on a train. There's 1995's Before Sunrise (the second sequel of which, Before Midnight, was released this summer). Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy hook up on a train, prefacing a 20-year odyssey of philosophizing and unapologetic profundity.  In Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest (1959), Cary Grant's character encounters the mysterious Eve Kendall (Eva Marie Saint) on the 20th Century Limited from New York to Chicago. After adventures involving crop dusters, Tarascan statues, and Mount Rushmore, the two are seen together in an upper berth as their train zooms suggestively into a tunnel. THE END.

I often wonder how many of the creative types who have married romance and the rails have actually taken a lengthy train trip. Because if they did, perhaps some of the more fragile might end up like one Anna Karenina, who, at the end of her story, was literally wed to the tracks.   

As the aforementioned Transsiberian paints it,  the caravan plying the tracks between Beijing and Moscow is filled with babushkas and pensioners, assorted raggedy backpackers, dirty cops, and drug dealers.  On the Trans-Siberian (as I will stylistically refer to it) I traveled, I experienced nary a cop, dirty or otherwise, nor anyone trading in narcotics (not counting the train's doctor, that is). To clarify, though, rather than taking the "real" Trans-Siberian, the train on which one shares berths, baths, and board with Russian folk, I hopped one of the private excursion trains that has popped up post-Soviet Union.

Was there romance? Were there moments of transcendence?  Was there intrigue?  I won’t prematurely spill any beans, but I will say one lady (me) did temporarily vanish. Like the heroine of The Wheels Spin, I suffered from heat exhaustion prior to boarding the train. The malady struck in the Forbidden City. I headed to a Beijing hospital while the group headed to the train station.  I re-joined the group two days later in Mongolia, boarding the Trans-Siberian in Ulan Bator.

Just Another Manic Punday: Grey's Anatomy

True story.

I am receiving a 2 1/2-hour massage this weekend, which, parenthetically, is a short rubdown for me.
The therapist is focusing solely on my neck and shoulders. Usually, these body parts are quite resistant to pain. But when she hits a spot that has never been touched before (there's a lot of detailed work in a 2 1/2-hour upper body massage), I squeal in pain. "What muscle is that?" I query as I lay face down in the head cradle. "And what is it connected to?"

She tells me it is the infraspinatus muscle, which is attached to the humerus. I tell her I find nothing humerus about the situation.

Thank you and good night.

Just for Laughs: 9 Things to Know About Stand-Up Comedy

I always enjoy expanding my horizons. Usually, I do so by traveling the world. But when I am at home, I take classes. Last year, it was Russian. This spring, it was Italian. This summer, it's stand-up comedy.

Now, anyone who has read my stories about the naked German spa or has savored my punditry or has put up with my on-the-spot quips knows I have a sense of humor, however warped it may be. I can converse funny. I can write funny. I can quip funny. But performing funny--that, my friends, is a whole other ball of wax.

As I take classes at The Improv in DC, here are some lessons I am learning.

1. Set a premise. As you begin a routine, you have to let the audience know your persona. You're the neurotic Jewish girl. You're the woeful putz. You're the put-upon dad. The audience needs to know who you are up front to get the joke.

2. Believe the audience wants to like you.

3. Take a breath before you start. It will calm and compose you (supposedly).

4. Take liberties with the truth. To wit, when relating a real story, always attribute the funny line to yourself....even if someone else said it. There are no fact checkers in comedy.

5. Take it to the crazy. Find veins of humor in situations and explore them to the extreme.

6. Cut the crap. Delete extraneous exposition.

7- Use the Rhythm Method. Alternate between long and slow and slam, bam, thank you ma'am.

8. Beware of jokes based on news events. Sometimes, it's too soon to joke, and sometimes, the joke's already outdated..

9. Don't give the audience a chance to heckle you. Beware of asking the crowd questions, or pausing too long between thoughts.

If you are interested in how well I learn my lessons, please come to The Improv on August 7. But you are only invited if you promise to laugh with me, not at me.

Thank you and good night.

9 Gnomes About Travel Writing

...and no, I am not referring to the Travelocity troll. Look it up.

Meantime, a summer of ennui, spent mainly in the confines of swampy Washington, DC, has left me at a loss for words. That is why, dear reader, you may note a paucity of recent posts. But next week, I am off to speak at Destination Marketing International Association's annual conference. As I have been preparing my remarks, which mainly deal with the changing state of travel writing, I have come to certain realizations. To wit, when it comes to cliches in travel writing, some things never change. To that end, this update of an earlier post

Here a review of the Top 9 Travel Writing Taboos.

#1: Avoid cliches like the plague. The Danish in Copenhagen isn't the best thing since sliced bread (since when is sliced bread so great, anyway?) Since when did you actually feel like a kid in the candy store, even if you are an art historian and you were hanging at the Louvre (actually, if you were hanging at the Louvre, you .might be a masterpiece). And unless you were trying out a carousel, you don't give things a whirl.

#2: Avoid words you never use when talking. I'm talking iconic, quaint, and rustic. 

#3: Just to prove that I am not overly persnickety, I'll allow one quaint or iconic per article. But never, ever use luxe or azure, for sure.

#4: That the grass is green is not newsworthy. That the beach is sandy is not newsworthy. Don't include useless and/or redundant adjectives. Keep it pithy, people.

#5: Can a city boast? Apparently, it can, as "Chicago boasts the best deep-dish pizza in the world" and "Honolulu boasts grand luxe hotels, sandy beaches, and azure skies."  But IMHO, a place cannot boast.

#6: Is Albania the next Italy? I don't think so. But some travel writers do. "The next...." is not merely cliched writing; it is also somewhat pejorative if you think about it (i.e.--the next best thing to sliced bread....but it ain't no slice of bread).

#7: Don't trash the locals or local customs just for the heck of it. If you do, as in this piece I did for National Geographic Traveler  that literally talks trash in Albania, provide context and balance.

#8: Maybe it's me, because I simply abhor chick-lit. Articles about your journey of self-discovery are usually a yawn, even to your closest friends. Sure, an Elizabeth Gilbert or a Frances Mayes may hit the jackpot with prosaic poppycock. But my best advice is to circumvent this form of literary litany.
An aside--why is it that 99 out of 100 of self-confessional, self-delusional pieces are written by women?

#9: Never, never, never use the term "something for everyone" in your writing. It's lazy, it's annoying (to me, anyway) and it's simply not true. Don't you be telling me Des Moines has something for everyone. For example, if you are a surfer, where's the beach? New York City doesn't have something for everyone. For example, if you are a climber, try finding a mountain to scale in Manhattan (skyscrapers don't count). Heck, even Sydney, the best city in the world (again, IMHO), doesn't have something for everyone. For example, if you are an astronomer, you can't see the Big Dipper and vast parts of Ursa Major in the Australian night sky. But you can pet a koala.

Which brings me to one more parenthetical point. You can pet a koala, but you can't pet a koala bear. Koalas are marsupials, not bears. Put that in your pouch and ponder. And one more point that may save your life one day: If you want to pet a koala, don't do so by awakening it from a eucalyptus-induced stupor. I can tell you from experience.. this not a good idea. A koala awakening from its hebetude can be vicious, vicious, I tell you.  But that's a story for another post.

Fairmontopoly

Regular readers know about my fixation with collecting Monopoly games. I am very particular about the collection--no City-opolies, no Sports Team-opilies, etc. My prized collection consists of more than two dozen games acquired in countries to which I have traveled (and a couple--well-appreciated gifts--from countries to which I have not been).

If you want to read more about the obsession, just type Monopoly in search. But this post is about a deviant. You see, my most recent frame up is an anomalous Monopoly celebrating the centennial of Fairmont Hotels & Resorts (I should note that it was acquired a few years ago, so Fairmont is an even older dowager now). Despite its corporate origins, I consider it a worthy companion to my collection. Why? Because this Monopoly showcases a panoply of incredible inns in places ranging from Dubai to Monte Carlo.

Given the company's Canadian roots (Canadian Pacific Hotels merged with Fairmont in 1999), six featured properties are from the Great White North. That said, Canadian modesty being what is it, the prime Park Place and Boardwalk spots are occupied by The Savoy/London and The Fairmont San Francisco, respectively.

What I find particularly charming about the board is its oh-so-twee pewter tokens. No dogs or thimbles here....although an iron would have been appropriate. But no iron, either. Instead, you can be a doorman, a pair of slippers, a bed, a key, a steamer trunk, or a tea cup.

The game is quite politically correct. No electric company or water works for the environmentally-conscious hotel company. Instead, you can invest in Wind Power Farms and a Recycling Center. And instead of income tax, your Monopoly money goes toward Community Investment. Very nice.

If you look closely at the picture above, you'll see that railroad stations are replaced by resort activities like golfing, spa-ing, skiing and boating. This doesn't really make sense. After all, you can't buy skiing or golf (well, maybe Donald Trump can, but that's a Monopoly board I do not covet in the least). Chance and Community Chest have become History and 21st Century. However, I discovered that some of the 21st Century cards should have been labeled History and vice versa. Quibbles, quibbles.

I should mind my Ps & Qs, though, considering this was a gift. But one more minor beef. As you might expect, the hotels are still hotels, although they are gold. But what the instructions call "suites" look like little black houses. I would have preferred colorful cabanas, but no dice.
.

It's Just Another Manic Punday

In Great Lakes parlance, I'm not sure if I find this personalized birthday doodle delightfully superior, erie, or simply michigana. Look forward to huron your thoughts.

Snooping Around Washington, DC/Channeling Your Inner Snowden

Want to check out one of the D.C.area's most secretive spots?

Last summer, I was commissioned to write a lengthy article about Washington's power places for Emirates Airlines Open Skies.  One of the sites profiled is located smack dab on the campus of the National Security Agency (NSA) in Fort Meade, Maryland.

If you want to snoop around there, you can take refuge to the National Cryptologic Museum. And if you visit in the summer, you won't have to worry about getting Snowden.

Puzzled? Read the excerpt below.

For the full article, click here and zip to page 100.

Health Tips for Safe Summer Travels

As summer travel season heats up, it's important to stay cool. I can tell you from first-hand experience, you don't want to end up in the ER with heat exhaustion. Here are some important tips for keeping your cool this summer.

Please click on the link for my latest television segment:
  Tips for safe summer traveling - Let's Talk Live | WJLA.com.

And for those of you who prefer reading to watching, here's a recap:

After a long day of summer sightseeing, have you ever felt headache-y, queasy or nauseous? Have you experienced the shakes or has your face gone pale? You may have had heat exhaustion without even knowing it. And it's important to know it, because once you have an episode of heat exhaustion, you are more susceptible to it in the future.

Now, I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV. But believe you me, I know from heat exhaustion. I've ended up in the hospital with it four times. The first was after a three-hour singles match in the mid-day California sun. The second was after I had flown to California non-stop and played tennis (doubles, this time) later in the afternoon. That incident was clearly caused by the triple whammy of dehydration from the plane, the sun, and exercise. Incident #3 was after my first and only attempt at Bikram Yoga (I highly DO NOT recommend this form of yoga--it's actually the antithesis of yoga, IMHO). And finally, there was the infamous incident in China, which took place, not after a round of exercise, but in the middle of a day of sightseeing in Beijing. That's another one that resulted in an IV in the ER. I highly DO NOT recommend the ER in China.

One month later, I am still sorting out dozens of receipts written in Chinese, trying to decipher what's what in order to send my claim to the Travel Guard insurance company. So that you can avoid similar travails--both heat stroke on your travels and the accompanying paperwork, a bit of advice is in order. Again, I am not a doctor, but I've learned some excellent tips from the four who have treated me for the condition.

1. HYDRATE, HYDRATE, HYDRATE. You can never have too much water before you go out in the heat and while you are out. Better yet, as you hydrate, alternate between water and sports drinks loaded with electrolytes.

2. Take it easy within 24 hours of landing after a long-distance flight. Aside from the above-mentioned combo of coast-to-coast flying and tennis, I believe the incident in Beijing may have developed from the following set of activities:
    Day 1: 14-hour flight to Beijing
    Day 2: Climbing to the top of the Great Wall in heat and humidity
    Day 3: Four hours at the (shaded) Summer Palace, followed by an afternoon of sightseeing in Tiannamen
              Square and the Forbidden City. Temperature was in the high 80s, not taking into account the heat  
              from the pavement and the air quality.
While I had taken care to get plenty of sleep and what I thought was plenty of water (although probably rationing unconsciously due to the yen to avoid using squat toilets still so prevalent in China), BOOM! Down I went in the Forbidden City.

3. Carry electrolytes with you if are prone to heat exhaustion. I had Emergen-C packed in my suitcase, but it wasn't with me in the Forbidden City. A friend had salt pills packed, but again, she didn't have them in her purse. Both would have been perfect for dissolving in a bottle of water.

4. Carry energy bars, dried fruit or something similar.

5. Wear a hat and sunscreen.

6. Get out of the heat and rest. Once you start feeling the effects of heat exhaustion, you may be too far gone...and an IV will be your only solution, so to speak. But if you feel on the cusp, immediately stop your activity and stay cool. This is what I tried to do in the Bikram class 30 minutes in....but the instructor wouldn't let me leave the room, the heat index of which was probably upwards of 130. After 30 more minutes in this extreme sauna, I forced my way out (as the instructor chased after me calling me a coward--nice).  Had I left the  room when I initially felt ill, I would have been okay with liquid, rest, and shade. But the extra heat did me in, even though I was laying on my mat during that time. On to the ER.

7. What do you drink once heat exhaustion kicks in? Interestingly, the Chinese doctor who treated me said drinking water straight is one of the worst things you can do. He suggested that once heat exhaustion  sets in,  water intake further dilutes salt levels. He emphasized the need to drink liquids containing electrolytes instead. No other ER doctor had  ever mentioned that to me, but it seemed logical. That said, in checking a number of legitimate medical websites, 100% recommended water, although agreeing that electrolyte-spiked liquid is better yet. These same sites put a total kibosh on drinking carbonated beverages or anything with caffeine.

Best bet--before leaving on a hot trip, ask your doctor for his/her advice and get travel insurance, just in case. As for me, I'm staying out of the heat.

It's Just Another Manic Punday

Today's word is pajamas. It was requested by Cary Broussard (had to slipper name in). After sleeping on it, I cottoned to the idea of a pajama game. But before I do my jams, have you heard about the guy who sued the sod company boss? The lawyers had to select a lingerie; a flannel of his peers, if you will.  Don’t mean to cause a flap among nutritionists, but I have a hankering for Long Johns Silker’s. I’m done now--off to spend the nightie playing footsie with Dr. Denton. He’s the cat’s pajamas.

----------------------------------------

Please serve up your topic requests for next Punday.

7 More Tips About Heat Exhaustion

For those of you who saw me on NewsChannel 8 today, my previous post covers most of the points I addressed on TV. However, for those who are looking to do a bit more research into the phenomenon, here are links to a few articles which provide professional insight on the topic.

While you may think of heat exhaustion as a condition most affecting hard-core athletes, it can impact the Regular Joe as well. So, there's a lot to be learned from how professional athletic trainers deal with it. Here's some input from the National Athletic Trainers' Association.

Certainly, the staff of Grand Canyon River Guides has to know the inside scoop on heat-related illnesses. Multi-day trips in the Grand Canyon in the middle of summer are adventures just waiting for a heat incident. Here's the company's chief of emergency services take: http://www.gcrg.org/bqr/14-1/hypo.html

A Food Network nutritionist discusses how much water to drink.

Several companies produce electrolyte beverages and powders. Nuun makes self-dissolving electrolyte tabs that are designed for athletes, but can be used by all. I can't vouch for the product, not having tried it, but the FAQs on Nuun's website seem solid.


Meantime, two other notes gleaned from experience and research:

1. Heat exhaustion isn't always caused by heat, per se, although it is usually a major factor.
2. Other factors that can contribute to the condition are dehyration, altitude, air quality, humidity, and surface temperature (a tennis court or pavement will be hotter than a field of flowers, for example).

7 Things to Know about Heat Exhaustion

Looking perky before the fall

After a long day of summer sightseeing, have you ever felt headache-y, queasy or nauseous? Have you experienced the shakes or has your face gone pale? You may have had heat exhaustion without even knowing it. And it's important to know it, because once you have an episode of heat exhaustion, you are more susceptible to it in the future.

Now, I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV. But believe you me, I know from heat exhaustion. I've ended up in the hospital with it four times. The first was after a three-hour singles match in the mid-day California sun. The second was after I had flown to California non-stop and played tennis (doubles, this time) later in the afternoon. That incident was clearly caused by the triple whammy of dehydration from the plane, the sun, and exercise. Incident #3 was after my first and only attempt at Bikram Yoga (I highly DO NOT recommend this form of yoga--it's actually the antithesis of yoga, IMHO). And finally, there was the infamous incident in China, which took place, not after a round of exercise, but in the middle of a day of sightseeing in Beijing. That's another one that resulted in an IV in the ER. I highly DO NOT recommend the ER in China.

The face of heat exhaustion

One month later, I am still sorting out dozens of receipts written in Chinese, trying to decipher what's what in order to send my claim to the Travel Guard insurance company. So that you can avoid similar travails--both heat stroke on your travels and the accompanying paperwork, a bit of advice is in order. Again, I am not a doctor, but I've learned some excellent tips from the four who have treated me for the condition.

1. HYDRATE, HYDRATE, HYDRATE. You can never have too much water before you go out in the heat and while you are out. Better yet, as you hydrate, alternate between water and sports drinks loaded with electrolytes.

2. Take it easy within 24 hours of landing after a long-distance flight. Aside from the above-mentioned combo of coast-to-coast flying and tennis, I believe the incident in Beijing may have developed from the following set of activities:
    Day 1: 14-hour flight to Beijing
    Day 2: Climbing to the top of the Great Wall in heat and humidity
    Day 3: Four hours at the (shaded) Summer Palace, followed by an afternoon of sightseeing in Tiannamen
              Square and the Forbidden City. Temperature was in the high 80s, not taking into account the heat    
              from the pavement and the air quality.
While I had taken care to get plenty of sleep and what I thought was plenty of water (although probably rationing unconsciously due to the yen to avoid using squat toilets still so prevalent in China), BOOM! Down I went in the Forbidden City.

3. Carry electrolytes with you if are prone to heat exhaustion. I had Emergen-C packed in my suitcase, but it wasn't with me in the Forbidden City. A friend had salt pills packed, but again, she didn't have them in her purse. Both would have been perfect for dissolving in a bottle of water.

4. Carry energy bars, dried fruit or something similar.

5. Wear a hat and sunscreen.

6. Get out of the heat and rest. Once you start feeling the effects of heat exhaustion, you may be too far gone...and an IV will be your only solution, so to speak. But if you feel on the cusp, immediately stop your activity and stay cool. This is what I tried to do in the Bikram class 30 minutes in....but the instructor wouldn't let me leave the room, the heat index of which was probably upwards of 130. After 30 more minutes in this extreme sauna, I forced my way out (as the instructor chased after me calling me a coward--nice).  Had I left the  room when I initially felt ill, I would have been okay with liquid, rest, and shade. But the extra heat did me in, even though I was laying on my mat during that time. On to the ER.

7. What do you drink once heat exhaustion kicks in? Interestingly, the Chinese doctor who treated me said drinking water straight is one of the worst things you can do. He suggested that once heat exhaustion  sets in, water intake further dilutes salt levels. This condition is called hypontremia. If this is your issue, there is a need to drink liquids containing electrolytes instead of straight water. No other ER doctor had  ever mentioned that to me.  Interestingly, though, in checking a number of legitimate medical websites, 100% recommend water, although agreeing that electrolyte-spiked liquid is better yet. These same sites put a total kibosh on drinking carbonated beverages or anything with caffeine.

Best bet--before leaving on a hot trip, ask your doctor for his/her advice and get travel insurance, just in case. As for me, I'm staying out of the heat.

Plane Talk

So, I’m flipping channels the other night and I end up on C-SPAN. Now, mind you, I do watch C-SPAN every now and then (in fact, my viewing of such while living in Santa Barbara made me realize I needed to move back East). But when I do watch, 99.9% of the time, I watch authors discussing their works. I never, ever watch Congressional hearings. Except that last night, I did.

The topic was the merger between American Airlines and US Airways. The hearing was held by the Senate Aviation Subcommittee. The main questioners were Senators Maria Cantwell (WA) and Mark Warner (VA). The main testifiers were Doug Parker, currently CEO of US AIrways and soon-to-be CEO of the merged company, and Charlie Leocha, director of the Consumer Travel Alliance.

The main point of contention was the necessity of slot divestitures at Washington's Reagan National Airport (DCA) If the carriers don't give up slots at National upon merging, the new airline will control two-thirds of the flights out of DCA. There was also a discussion of loosening DCA’s perimeter rule, currently restricting the number of daily flights beyond 1,250 miles from the airport.

But that’s not really the stuff that intrigued me. Right now, US Airways is in an alliance with United. United has an international hub at Washington Dulles (IAD). So, when US Airways devotees, particularly those who live in smaller cities, currently ponder one-stop routes to Europe, Dulles is a strong East Coast hub airport to consider. While they can’t fly direct on US Airways equipment, they can still get a code share flight on a U.S.-based carrier.

But if US Airways merges with American, that leaves US Airways and American passengers without an international DC hub. American’s main international hubs on this side of the country are the New York's JFK and Miami. Meanwhile, you can get to Europe on US Airways via Philadelphia or Charlotte. For the most part, you won't be able to get there from Dulles on the merged US Airways/American.

And that weakens Dulles. And that worries Warner, whose constituency would be affected by the loss of business. I don’t know why I find that little tidbit so interesting--after all, I can fly United directly out of Dulles without connecting, so I am not personally impacted. But in all of the minutiae involved in airline mergers, the international hub issue is one I never considered. Just my two cents and some food for thought. Of course, if that food for thought is requested in the air, there will be a charge of more than two cents. But ancillary fees...that's an issue for another post.

It's Just Another Manic Punday

And now, for the first in a weekly series called It's Just Another Manic Punday. I do hope you will add your thoughts and your punditry in the comments section.  Also, feel free to play Spot the Pun. Count the number of puns below.  I shall attempt 10 per bon mot (or bon mouth--and yes, that counts as one).

This is a true story. This past week, I was at the dentist. Now, brace yourself. We were jawing about the NSA scandal and the job of data analysis (because this is what one discusses with a DDS in DC). The dentist says, without a trace of irony, "I can't imagine a more tedious job." He is saying this as he is chiseling plaque off my teeth.

Now, I grant you, it would have made for a better bit if he was using a drill. "I can't imagine a more tedious job," says the dentist while boring his drill into my cavity.  See that--tedious=boring. Very nice. Ivory much like that version. But the root of the matter is that I had no cavities. Thus, I cannot go filling my tale with a false tooth. Chew on that.

----------------------------
If you have a topic or a word which you would like me to punder, please make your request below.

My take on Long Island, the Great Gatsby and Grapes. This appeared in The Washington Post Magazine on May 19. 

Of Monopoly Mania and Mongolia

Devoted readers know about my obsession with collecting Monopoly games around the world. If you need to catch up on my fetish, proceed directly to GO, or if you like, let's hang out in free parking. For those who prefer the Cliff Notes version, my one and only must-buy when abroad is Monopoly. I don't particularly like playing the game, but over the years, I have purchased about 40 boards and have framed about 30 of them. My most recent purchases took place in the Baltics, where I scurried to find a Lithuanian version in Vilnius and picked up two-for-the-price-of-two in Estonia (both the Estonian edition--right--and the Russian release--and please note the awesome alliteration in that run-on sentence).

Thus I am sad to report that my most recent trip--to China, Mongolia, and Russia--yielded no boards. Of course, as noted above, I bought the Russian rendition in Estonia, so there was no need to repeat. To pay homage, however, I did actually find the game in TSUM, the lesser-known version of GUM. Both were stolid department stores back in Soviet days, best known for empty shelves, long lines, and surly service. Now, they are very fancy. TSUM's tiny toy department was located downstairs adjacent to the food hall, into which I had run in search of a piece of fruit. Anyway, because I actually saw the game in Moscow, according to my rules (which require that I have actually been in-country---although truth be told, I gladly accept presents from all countries), I can consider my Russian board authentic, even if bought in Tallinn.

China, of course, still being officially Communist (though you'd be hard-pressed to tell if you were a visitor from Mars), does not condone the homage to capitalism that is Monopoly. There is a Chinese version sold in Taiwan, and I imagine that if one looks hard enough, one can find an underground game in China. But I was too busy playing Operation in Beijing to take time to look. And truth be told, it likely would have been time wasted (like my day of searching in Bangkok, as outlined in the first-paragraph links).

But Mongolia, ah Mongolia. This is truly a sad story. Now, I would never have expected to find a Monopoly game in the remote, formerly Communist country of Mongolia. And given that just two days would be spent there during my Trans-Siberian trip, I noted in advance it would be unlikely that there would be time for a search. My actual journey to Mongolia, moreover, was further shortened by my adventures in Chinese medicine (again, test link in previous paragraph). I ended up spending just one day there.

Most of that day was spent at a lovely national park two hours from Ulan Bator. When we got back to the city around 6:30, our guide suggested a cashmere stop. Apparently, the day before, while I was laid up in my hotel room in Beijing, the entire group had been given a choice between shopping at a department store or shopping for cashmere. The majority opted for the department store, so the wool buyers amongst us were left feeling sheepish. Anyway, the cashmere shop was very close to our dinner site, so many were bullish on the detour and rammed into the store.

It was at that point that a fellow American traveler asked me if I was going to buy anything. I said no, that the only thing I buy overseas is Monopoly. And then she shrieked the words I still rue, "When we were at the department store yesterday, I saw a Monopoly game front and center and thought it interesting."

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT? Not only was there a Mongolian version of Monopoly, but had I been with the group, I would have stumbled upon it with no effort. Imagine the joy that would have instilled in me. Instead, I was deflated, but defiant. Maybe I could get to that Monopoly game before leaving Mongolia. Alas, I was told that, given the horrible traffic in Ulan Bator and the time of day...or rather, the time of night...the store would likely be closed by the time I got there. I believe, in retrospect, this was actually a clandestine attempt to keep me with the group--and since I was still feeling the after-effects of my heat exhaustion, I wasn't exactly in condition to argue. And so, no Monopoly from Mongolia. I was morose.

Now, you should know that aside from my compulsion to buy Monopoly, I also tend to obsess about stupid things (TMI about OCD?). At any rate, for days after, I was repeatedly thinking how cool that game would have been--a board from a former Communist country, from one of the most remote places in the world, and in Cyrillic to boot. I wondered how much the board cost--they usually retail around $40, although I have purchased a game for as little as $1 (Poland) and as much as $70 (Sweden). I wondered what the board looked like. I wondered if the board featured Ulan Bator exclusively, or, like my Canadian and Austrian versions, showcased cities around the country.

Of course, I'm over it now (as you can tell from this extended blog post). I realize I now have two options. I must go back to Mongolia. I actually would really like to do so, perhaps to stay in a yurt or to check out the famous Naadam Festival--although that is in the summer, so given my heat sensitivity, maybe another time would be better.

 If I don't get back there soon, though, dear readers, it is up to you for relieve my pangs of regret. If by chance you are in Mongolia, go directly to the damn department store and please buy me my game. I will, of course, reimburse you for the cost of the game and for transportation. Let me clarify that, though--I will cover your cab from your hotel in Ulan Bator to the store. I khannot pay for airfare to Mongolia. I am not, after all, Mr. Moneybags.

Tallinn You About Estonia

Prior to the big adventure on the Trans-Siberian Express, I ducked into Estonia for a few days. You can hear my radio review of the trip at www.aroundtheworldradio.com this Saturday at 10:50 AM EDT. If you miss it, the segment will be hanging in the site's archives  It's the last segment of the June 6th show.  Also, you can discover more at www.visitestonia.com.

Meantime, a colleague who traveled with me wrote a terrific piece of poetic prose at http://www.everettpotter.com/2013/06/estonia-lithuania-past-tense/. I have excerpted part of the story here, and added my own pictures and links. Marc Kristal echoes precisely my feelings about traveling back to places after they have changed from a former state of being.  Not only that, his coverage of Tallinn is spot-on; his words painting a far greater masterpiece than I could ever expect to fashion.

In addition to the sites Marc mentions below, I highly recommend a visit to the Museum for Puppet Arts. It illustrates the rich history of puppet theater in Estonia, which, ironically, was especially prolific when the Baltic nation was a puppet of the Soviet Union. 

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A few months ago, I visited Rome, a beloved city in which I have long followed, like many tourists, a particular, equally beloved routine. One of the high points is a first-day visit to the Forum – where I was very surprised to discover that admission to this fascinating monument, one of the essential archaeological sites in the west, was no longer free.

I was, of course, shocked, shocked by this change of policy – but, really, why should I have been? As the history of Rome itself so eloquently demonstrates, everything is a moment in time, and even the things that seem immutable are fugitive. Still, I was struck by my own reaction, my feeling that this small transformation – the installation of a ticket kiosk – had drawn a line in history: suddenly the ‘old’ Rome, the Rome in which you could stroll down the steep stairs behind the Piazza del Campidoglio and into the seat of ancient empire, was gone. This led me, in turn, to consider how particular and personal experience can be, how the absence or presence of knowledge or context can powerfully influence one’s perceptions. To wit: If your first Roman holiday came after the installation of the turnstile – AT, as it were – Weltschmerz for Rome BT is inexplicable, even absurd: So they’re charging admission. What’s the big deal?

What’s interesting is that this disconnect can exist even if the line in the sand of time is epoch-making – for example, the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the subsequent independence of its vassal states. In Prague, Warsaw, or anywhere else behind the Iron Curtain, the difference between Then and Now is quantum (LAURA's note--Berlin is the prime example of this phenomenon, IMHO) . Yet if you have no memory of what life was like in the Eastern Bloc prior to 1991, then freedom there is your reality, and you can be as mystified by those haunted by the ghosts of the Soviet years as someone who’d never known a Forum without turnstiles. Thus it can be invaluable, when visiting places where, to paraphrase Faulkner, the past isn’t past, to be made aware of significant recent history: the better to understand what shaped the seemingly eternal everyday-ness of the place you’re experiencing, and to perceive that you are in fact in a kind of chrysalis, a city or country emerging from a previous state of being into a new condition traced by, but separate from (hopefully, someday), the dark past.

A recent visit to Estonia and Lithuania brought this home to me sharply, the former especially, as Tallinn, Estonia’s enchanting capital, is in many ways a typically ‘modern’ European city – which is to say that it can comfortably put forward both the historic and contemporary. Tallinn’s Old Town, comprised of upper and lower districts, began life in the early 13^th century and is today a picturesque mélange of Danish, German and (to a lesser degree) Russian influences; from my base at the Hotel Telegraaf, a chic hostelry installed in the city’s old telegraph building, it was a pleasurable stroll to the district’s greatest hits: the best-preserved medieval town hall (dating from 1404) in Europe; on Town Hall Square, the oldest continuously-operating pharmacy (dating from 1422) in Europe (be sure to check the expiration date on your prescription of Eye of Newt); and   handsome churches.  

Seaplane Harbour Museum

At the same time, contemporary Tallinn is palpably present, in cultural attractions such as the design-forward Kumu Art Museum (in Peter the Great’s Kadriorg Park) and the superlative fun-for-all-ages Seaplane Harbour maritime museum. It is contained within what is surely one of the great interior spaces to be found in the Baltics, a three-domed concrete-shell airplane hangar dating from the early 20^th century. The Rotermann Quarter, a former industrial district near the waterfront, has been reinvented via the alchemy of that ubiquitous urban revitalization model, an interleaving of historical and contemporary architecture, as a hip business, residential and leisure-time destination. 

Yet the years between the Soviet occupation of Estonia in 1944 and 20 August 1991, when the nation declared its independence, make themselves felt in large ways and small. Nowhere is this more transparent than at the KGB Museum atop the Hotel Viru, a 23-story modernist pile built by the USSR’s Intourist agency to attract foreign customers (and currency). It opened in 1972.

Former KGB Headquarters

Radio Room in Hotel Viru

The museum, which debuted in January of 2011 and has drawn some 75,000 visitors to its relatively cramped quarters, is difficult to characterize, in large measure because there’s not much to it. Overlooking the former headquarters of the KGB in Tallinn, the outpost occupies the hotel’s top floor. It remains unreachable by elevator, as was the case during the Soviet years, when it officially didn’t exist (nosy questioners were told floor 23 held ‘technical rooms’. There are displays of vintage photographs and documents, an office with telephones and technology that, though only four decades old, own a primitiveness worthy of the Flintstones, and a KGB ‘radio room,’ used for sending messages and eavesdropping on guests. The place exerts a weird fascination, which derives (for me at any rate) from its almost perfect conformity to a 1950s Hollywood-style laff riot vision of utter Commie incompetence – the kind of comedy in which the Red agents are depicted as bumbling,  bushy-browed buffoons booming out party platitudes but all too susceptible to Jack Daniel’s, Chiclets, and other classy American blandishments.

The mirthful mood is abetted by my group’s tour guide, Jana, a fast-talking, high-energy gamine in a red warm-up jacket with the museum’s logo emblazoned on its back, who calls to mind a blond, pixie-cut version of the impish Soviet gymnast Olga Korbut, and sustains a non-stop monologue that is at once richly informative, deeply sad, and laugh-out-loud funny. Indeed, it is not too much to say that Jana is the KGB Museum, as she animatedly fills its dreary rooms and corridors with the bizarre up-is-down world of Estonia under the pathetic, vicious Soviet thumb.

What do we learn? That the Viru, Tallinn’s first skyscraper and most prestigious hotel, required a mere three years to construct (using Finnish labor), as opposed to the decade or more it typically took the unmotivated local talent to finish a comparable job. That, out of 460 rooms, 60 were bugged – the joke was that the Viru was built from “micro-concrete – 50 percent concrete, 50 percent microphones.” That only the best rooms, the ones with views, were wired, and that guests such as journalists, who were most likely to divulge useful information, received the same bugged accommodations over and over again. That the KGB went so far as to insert microphones into butter plates in the dining room (while cautioning the waiters never to put them in the dishwasher).

We learn as well that the spy agency’s omnipresence, which it took great pains to conceal, was an open secret to one and all. Mischievous guests would often write ‘KGB’ in the elevators where the button for the 23^rd floor would have been, and a museum visitor who’d been at the Viru pre-1991 told of standing in his wiretapped bathroom and loudly complaining of a lack of toilet paper – after which a bellman immediately showed up with a fresh roll.

Despite the promise of the risqué floorshows, in which scantily clad Eastern Bloc Amazons posed provocatively (though with the high-minded froideur of magistrates), the Viru was a tough place to relax and have fun. The bar didn’t stock bourbon – too American. Local people, even if they were blood relatives, were not allowed above the ground floor. Prostitutes were prohibited – the museum displays a list of banned scarlet women, their names chivalrously blocked out – and those who managed to get in the door had to write the price of their services on their shoe soles, which they’d display discreetly by crossing their legs. And, showing us a vintage photo of a matron armed with a pencil and a stern, eagle-eyed glare, Jana tells us about the Viru’s 68 ‘guardians of the floors,’ whose job it was to write down the activities of the guests (one night, to induce writer’s cramp in these unfortunate old ladies, a visiting dance troupe spent hours scampering back and forth between each other’s rooms).

As this story suggests, to work in such a place was to be more than a prisoner in name. Jana shows us a trick purse that, when opened, set off a paint bomb: the idea was that a hotel employee who might find a lost wallet and try to secure some foreign currency would be busted by the colorful splatter. That this was no laughing matter is evident from the story Jana tells of two waiters. One who was caught drunk on the job was sent to work in the hotel’s storeroom for three months. Another, found with a pocket full of Finnish money, was sent to jail.

For the entire, unedited (by LP) story, visit http://www.everettpotter.com/2013/06/estonia-lithuania-past-tense/

Marc Kristal is an architecture, design and travel writer. Kristal, a contributing editor of Dwell and a former editor of AIA/J,The New York Times, Architectural Digest, Elle Decor, and numerous other publications. His books include Re:Crafted: Interpretations of Craft in Contemporary Architecture and Interiors (2010) and Immaterial World: Transparency in Architecture (2011). Also a screenwriter, Kristal wrote the film Torn Apart.  He lives in New York.

A Trans-Siberian Postscript

June 1
Washington, DC

Good Morning, Comrades. I am back in the US(S)A, after three weeks of adventure, absurdity, love, sickness, weight loss and innumerable travel tales.

In brief, here are a few highlights, in chronological order:

Part I (best forgotten)

A Great Wall
A Summer Palace
Heat exhaustion in the Forbidden City
An overnight at a Chinese hospital
The Chinngis Khaan Airpor/Ulan Bator at midnight
The Mongolian steppe
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Part II

My first step in Russia

A giant Lenin head in Ulan Ude

One of two odd encounters with bears

Wading in 30 degree Lake Baikal

Studying the Siberian countryside for hours a day
Studying Cyrillic one hour a day
More Lenin statues (full-size, but not life-size--dude was a midget)
Several babushkas
Countless Russian Orthodox churches
1 mosque
2 Kremlins
10 pounds lost weight
1 case of the flu
1 Red Square
0 Monopoly games

Soviet Style

I don't even know if Psy could do Soviet style justice. Yes, my friends, it still exists, 20 years after the Soviet Union ceased to exist (on the map, but maybe not completely in the Russian mind).

This morning, I dined with a stuffed bear over my shoulder. I am staying in the Radisson Slavyanskaya--a property surely converted from an old-school Soviet hotel. The public areas are immense, but dark and ill-decorated (note the bear). The staff is generally unhelpful and looks at you as if every question asked is the stupidist query in the world. For example, this morning, I asked a concierge and two bellmen where to find the AeroExpress ticket booth in the neighboring Kievskaya Train Station. This question seemed like a no-brainer--I imagine half of the people staying here do so because the hotel sits adjacent to the rail station, from which the express train to Vkunovo airport departs. Not one of the three had a clue. Now, to be fair to Radisson, it's not the brand. For the two previous nights, I stayed at the Radisson Blu Belorusskaya, a new-concept design hotel, and the visit, from the decor, to the staff, to the food, was just lovely.

(I would have stayed on, except the Belorusskaya did not have what the Slavyanskaya has....location, location, location...by the Kievskaya train station. Plus, for an English speaker laid up in bed for 24 hour straight (namely me), the Slavyanskaya certainly had more options on TV, including CNN, CNBC, TCM, BBC, and English versions of NHK, RT and CCTV, plus Eurosport. That said, I found myself drawn to a game show on the Italian RAI. My understanding of the wacky goings-on seemed to prove that the part of the brain that translates languages, once stimulated in a foreign environment, brings to the forefront previouly learned information. Look at me, a writer doing scientific experiments on the fly.)

But, after that digression of a parenthetical paragraph, you, dear reader, may question whether I am actually a writer. Back to our thesis. While you might not realize it from walking down Moscow's main shopping drags, now lined with the stores of luxury brands ranging from Hermes to Mikimoto, or by walking through GUM, the formerly glum shopping mall of chronic Soviet shortages, which is now a deluxe capitalist mecca, but Soviet style still exists, mainly in the form of the service mentality....or lack thereof.

Back in the days of the USSR, yessir, you had a job for life, regardless of your attitude. So, whether you were a hotel clerk, a waiter, or a flight attendant, it didn't really matter if you did your job well...or with pleasure. In talking with some Marriott executives in Moscow, they acknowledged that training staff to have a Western manner of hospitality is still a challenge. Actually, it wasn't a direct acknowledgement as much as a chuckle of agreement when I mentioned the rather dour attitude of the Russian staff that served the Trans-Siberian Express. Indeed, the representative from Lernidee, the operator of the tour, said that the German company does try to train the Russian staff it is handed at the beginning of the tourist season. But old dogs (even if they are young) don't easily learn new tricks....or new mentalities... overnight. With centuries of oppression, current day challenges and a Debbie Downer DNA working against them, it is not, as our tour guide Valeri pointed out, in the Russian nature to be smiley or effusive--especially if not fortified by vodka.

The Packing List

People often wonder how I can pack so light. True, I was unable to fit my gear into a carry-on for the three-week trek from Beijing to Moscow, but I still had less baggage than my fellow passengers. And I am heading back to the USA lighter than I started (suitcase--3 pounds lighter; body-10 pounds lighter) largely because 1/4 of my suitcase was reserved outbound for gluten-free snacks. All needed to be consumed for sustenance. And because I purchased no Monopoly games on this jaunt (more on that disappointing development in another post), I am heading back with space to spare.

Here's the packing list:

3 pairs of pants
2 pairs of shorts
3 dresses
2 pairs of sandals
2 pairs of loafers
1 pair of heels (necessary for one 2-hour business meeting-ouch)
6 T-shirts
2 long-sleeve tops
2 sweaters
1 windbraker
1 leather jacket
1 silk robe (not worn during trip--robes supplied on train and at hotels)
1 bathing suit (not worn)
Socks, underwear
2 pairs of comfy yoga pants

I also brought a shoebox full of hotel-sized amenities like shampoo, body wash and conditioner, most of which I didn't need to use.

I had 5 books with me--a Russian language book, which I studied diligently for an hour a day; Lonely Planet Moscow (albeit circa 1993); Lonely Planet Trans-Siberian (a new edition--not LP's greatest work); Bel Canto by Ann Patchett (my plane read on the way to Beijing); and Travels to Siberia by Ian Frazier. The latter was my train read and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Other than that, I had an umbrella, sunglasses, glasses, drugs and potions, a neck pillow, a butt supporter, mini-headphones, and a few notebooks....plus iPad,cameras, batteries, chargers, adaptors, credit cards, an ATM card, and my passport.

All were packed in a 26" Biaggi foldable suitcase, a small rucksack, and a purse.

Yes, I did break my three-pairs-of-shoes rule, largely due to my two-hour need for heels (I actually could have done without one pair of sandals--but they don't take much room, anyway). But other than that, I have to pat myself on the back for another packing job well-done.