CLEGG BROTHERS WORLD TOUR 1985
by
Peter M. Clegg
Copyright by Peter M. Clegg, 1989
All Rights Reserved.
THE BEGINNING
With a swift tap, the airline agent stapled the ticket to the boarding pass, tucked them in the paper jacket and handed them to me across the counter. As I took them, a phrase which I had read earlier on the ticket agreement was working at my inner thoughts. The agreement said, "Once the journey has begun, this ticket cannot be refunded." I had just drastically limited any possibilities of recovering the $2200 I had spent buying Pan Am's around-the-world ticket. Was it worth it? I had ambivalent feelings as I contemplated the adventures that could lay ahead over the next four months, but then reflected on the large sums of money that we had just parted with. At this point if anything happened it would be an extremely short and expensive trip. On the other hand we were just embarking on an adventure that would be a once in a lifetime experience. We were going to circumnavigate the globe and visit as many countries as we could along the way.
When did it start? How did it all come about? Who convinced us to do this? That's hard to say. It may have started with the world map that hung in the dining room for all of the years that we were growing up. Each time a member of the family or the ward received a mission call to a far off place, we could know exactly where in the world that place was. It may have been the National Geographics that came every month, thanks to Grandmother Clegg's yearly subscription gift. Neo Geo's, as they came to be known, were found on the nightstands of every bed in the house. Many of them were worn and coverless from countless lookthroughs before going to sleep.
At college one semester, the trip actually began to look like a reality. A couple of friends from my mission had returned using the world pass ticket from Pan Am. I talked to them and to a travel agent friend who told me the particulars. In the cold, dark days of January and February my roommates and I talked out the details and the places that we would like to go. Kevin, Brian, and Glen had all been to Japan on their missions and we had a great time brainstorming of all the things that we could see and do. We found out more about the flights and calculated a daily budget. The only thing lacking was money. As the semester drew closer to an end things looked less promising. Time was limited, school pressing, and money nonexistent. Brian and I kicked around the idea of just going to Tahiti instead. We had a poster hung in our apartment with tropical forests and sandy beaches and there were some good package deals to Tahiti for a week. When it came right down to it though, it just didn't seem to be the thing to do. I felt that it would probably not be a wise use of funds and not very responsible. I was expecting a tax refund which would have covered a short trip but I decided that I would sacrifice and use the money to buy a diamond. The diamond could be another story but it will suffice to say that my practical thinking was merely wishful.
Dad had not been all that receptive to the idea anyway. I think that he perceived it as an effort to escape reality and responsibility; something which filled our mind's dreams and fantasies and diverted us from work and the tasks at hand. He asked us several times, "Why do you want to go? Going just to say you went, or trying to be someone your not won't make you any happier for having gone," he would say. I suppose that it was his way, and a good way, to make us think of the reasons we were really going. The answers we would give were to see how other people live, to see economies in other lands, to see how the church is growing, to explore what was on the outside. I think that inwardly I felt a longing for a better understanding of the things which surrounded me. I had learned from my travels to the Caribbean and Thailand that the world is a large place and much different than can be comprehended from reading or watching television.
With the buying of the diamond and the end of the semester, thoughts of traveling were replaced with thoughts of summer school, a certain girl, and an internship for my major. The trip moved from front burner to a distant wish list.
FOUR YEARS LATER
I had since graduated from BYU and accepted a job in San Francisco. My brothers had all returned from their missions and were going to school. Steve and Ben had come to live with me in northern California to make money to continue school. Ben, Steve and I were sitting on a little grass mound outside our condo in Walnut Creek, California. It was a beautiful Sunday morning and we were just relaxing in the summer sun and trying to figure out what excitement there could be left in life. I had been working at Bechtel for two and a half years and was fairly bored with life. Work was a constant struggle for satisfaction and progress. My church calling was rewarding but very challenging and frustrating. Steve had been working at several different jobs ranging from CAD to Kreepy Krawley. He had just found out that his old girlfriend at the Y was engaged. Ben had been there about two months and was working with computers inside a San Francisco office building for eight hours or more a day and that was really quite an adjustment for an Idaho farm boy.
In our discussion of a search for adventure and fulfillment the idea of a world trip came up again. This time the idea seemed to carry its own energy. Just sitting there and talking, the idea seemed like the crucial, long lost piece in some puzzle. We talked of the countries that we would like to visit. Steve and I wanted to return to our mission fields and see the Philippines were Dan and Paula went. We wanted to especially see India and the more underprivileged countries. In a way we wanted to feel the experience of life in other lands. There were a lot of questions that we wanted to answer such as how do other governments operate, how do economies function, how is the church growing in other lands, and many more. The power of the thought bordered on electricity. We had learned through experience however, that when things are meant to be, they will come to pass if you just keep plugging and doing what is right. We decided then that we wouldn't really make a big thing of the plans, or tell a lot of friends or make it a goal with number one priority. Instead we would just keep it in the back of our minds and see what the next few months held for possibilities.
In the next few months things didn't really appear to be working out for the trip. I had the opportunity to take a new job at a good salary increase. Steve went back to school at BYU and Ben got a job at FMC. I met a new friend who I really enjoyed spending time with and I was making plans to settle more permanently in the area. I put a deposit on a townhouse and proceeded to draw up the paperwork for the loan. About the middle of October I seemed to reach a turning point of which I could write another essay. To be brief, by the middle of November I found myself without a job, girlfriend, or house payments. No attachments whatsoever.
It didn't take long to figure that it was now or never to take the opportunity. Ben was very enthusiastic and said he was a definite 'go'. Steve was a go but wanted to wait till the middle of January to get some things taken care of with a club that he was the president of at B.Y.U.. I talked to Dan and he was game. After getting laid off I went home for a couple of weeks and approached Dad with the idea. To my surprise he was very receptive. We got out the map of the world and laid it on the floor and traced out our intended route. I think mother took more of a "wait and see" attitude.
Uncle Philip called not too long after I had been out of work to see if I would like to come and work for a couple of months and look for something in the southern California area. Whether I found a job or not, the couple of months window would work out just right. I left Idaho and went to Walnut Creek and packed up everything that I had. I gave my bed to the Asians and left my boat and furniture with York. I then went to LA with tentative plans to leave from there.
The two months of preparation went very fast. A lot of coordination went into getting everything ready. It took some work just to find a travel agent that could handle the ticketing. Then it took some work to educate her on the rules of the world pass. She was very helpful though and so excited about the trip herself. When I finally went to get the tickets she told everyone in the office that I was one of the three brothers that were going around the world.
We had to get passports and visas for several countries. I also had to coordinate with Steve and Ben to get things all in one place at one time. About mid December we came to a point where a firmer commitment was needed. In talking with Steve, Dan and Ben I laid out all of the pros and cons that I could think of and then told them to let me know. I felt flexible and also felt that I had less to lose by going than any of them. My schooling was done and I could have a full time job anytime I wanted. Ben had no qualms and said it was the only thing keeping him going. Steve thought about it for a couple of days and then called to say yes. He had talked to his mentor Brother Dyer and he convinced him that it would be a once in a lifetime chance. Dan called to say that he had thought it over and weighed it out and the conclusion was that he felt he should not sacrifice his schooling. I was disappointed as we really would have enjoyed his company and needed his help in getting around the Philippines, but didn't try to sway him one way or the other.
Steve had also convinced me that I should take the GMAT and try to get into business school the next fall. So I planned the trip and studied GMAT test samples at night while doing takeoffs at the office during the day. In some spare time I read all of the encyclopedias on many of the countries that we would be visiting. On January 25, I took the GMAT at Fullerton. Three of the eight sections were math so I should have done well. I didn't feel that I had done well because I didn't finish several of them but I had done the best I could. If I passed, I would consider it a sign I should go back to school.
We were scheduled to leave on February 4, a Monday night. The Wednesday before, Steve and Ben flew down. Dear Mother drove them to the airport in Salt Lake with sub-zero weather and a sub-standard heater in the old blue Maverick. They had taken an off-beat charter flight and landed at another runway near LAX. When I finally found them they were just sitting in the sun watching planes takeoff and a movie that was being filmed in the area.
We spent the next couple of days getting visas for Thailand and Japan and getting our youth hostel cards and student ID's. The only place that we could get a visa for India was in San Francisco so I had Michelle get them and then express mail our passports back. We looked for packs and sleeping bags. The packs were easy to decide on. We checked out several sports stores and finally decided on bags made by EMI. They were very durable and well made. The nice thing was that the straps folded and zipped into the pack so it looked sort of like a suitcase. There was a day pack which zipped off the main pack for taking shorter side trips.
The sleeping bags were a different story. The first place we looked carried bags by The North Face. We wanted something that was light and didn't take up much room but also was warm. They had one model, the Blue Kazoo, which met our needs perfectly but was not in the price range at $210. So we kept looking. We went to several sports and department stores and the Army/Navy surplus. We crisscrossed the whole LA basin looking for the right combination. Ben and I finally decided to go back to North Face for the Blue Kazoo and Steve opted for a fiberfill from Kmart that was a little bit bigger. The Kazoos were good for temperatures down to about 20 degrees and stuffed to about a 6" by 12" roll.
Back at the Clegg's in Villa Park, we sorted out what things we wanted to take. We took about three changes of clothes, a sweater, and a jacket. There was still plenty of room. We had a little three man tent that we bought and because it wouldn't fit into one of the packs, we agreed to pass it around and strap it on the outside of our gear.
No trip can get underway correctly without a bon voyage party. We ended up with about three of them which were mixed with other things. Ann Voigt had a birthday party at Magnolia Peach's in Brea. We were sitting there and had ordered 15 orders of hors devours when in walked Michelle and Diana from No Cal. It was great to see them. Next day we had a video party and watched the Killing Fields. It was a graphic and disturbing movie which according the members of the Asian branch was quite accurate. Sunday, Kevin and Kathy Clegg blessed their baby and we all met out at Kim and Jalayne Pugmire's for a dinner. It was great to talk to Uncle Russ. He was so excited and enthusiastic about us going. We really did receive some good support. Uncle Sam and Jan were very excited and made me feel a little more at ease about taking off.
Monday night, Brian and Annie came to chauffeur us in the royal, red, rabbit convertible. We didn't have all that much stuff and it all fit in the trunk. The atmosphere on the way to the airport was filled with excitement. Brian and Ann wanted to go with us. I think that we were a little bit apprehensive about the things that were to come and whether we would get our hard earned moneys worth.
On Board Pan Am 747 Bound for Hawaii
"I can't believe what a hassle it is to break away from normal life and go somewhere. There are bills to pay in advance, arrangements to make in the event of accident, belongings to store and secure. I signed a power of attorney and sent it to Dan with instructions of what to sell and give to who. Uncle Philip offered to let me store my car in the office. I have been so worried the last couple of days that I think I have made myself sick. But suddenly I feel very relaxed and things are going to work out great. It is a great feeling to be back here among the clouds. We are all a little concerned about money but have a fairly good credit cushion just in case. I requested an increase on my credit limit on the Visa and obtained an American Express card.
I talked to Mother just before I left and it is so cold up there. One feeling of regret is that Dad and Mother are left behind. It would be so great to bring them and the rest of the family along on a trip like this. It seems like so much of this winter has been 'freeze or endure to survive'. I have had a lot of different feelings about going but generally have felt pretty good. It seems like this is a good thing to do. Everything has worked out so well thus far. I just wish they, especially Dad and Mom, could come with us."
HAWAII
The first flight was great but would have been a little better if we had known where we were going to spend the night. We arrived at the airport a little after midnight. After collecting our baggage we went to the lower level of the building and looked for transportation to somewhere. We missed the last bus to downtown by about 15 minutes. The only resource that we had plenty of was time and so we just decided to wait till morning. We walked around and saw several people with packs just sacked out in corners or on benches. It was sort of a revolting feeling to just stretch out on a bench. I was worried that security was going to kick us out or that someone would try to steal some of our things. We had our nice packs, sleeping bags, travelers checks, visas, passports, etc. Something inside resisted just going to sleep in the open. Actually, I think that at any given time there was only one of us that was asleep. I was miserable. The weather was rather cool and clammy. I had not felt too good the couple of days before we left and my shoulder was really hurting from something. Steve had a bad head cold and when coming down out of the clouds had been in real pain.
The first night was to help us appreciate what came after. At about 7:00 a.m. we called Aloha Rental and got an old red Datsun for $12.75 per day. We calculated Hawaii would be a little more expensive and so we could do this and still keep in budget. The weather was cloudy and a little chilly so we decided to drive around and look at the island. We drove northwest out to the edge of the island and the end of the drivable road, looking at all of the sandy beaches and waves along the way. We stopped and looked in a cave that was covered with graffiti. The further we drove the more run down and junky the countryside seemed to get. There were lots of rusted junk cars and run down houses. We took a nicely paved side road and followed it back up near the mountains to a 'howlee' resort. Hi-rise condominiums, landscaped grounds, a golf course and No Trespassing signs were circled by the lush green mountains. We couldn't help but notice the contrast. Back on the main road we followed it to the end where the road which had run along the base of the mountains just above the ocean was washed out. It looked as if the road just vanished between the crashing waves and the rugged cliffs.
We drove back towards Honolulu and decided to stop and see Pearl Harbor and the Arizona Memorial. While waiting to get in we gave Paula's old roommate Heather a call. She and her husband Terry lived with their family on a sugar plantation not far from the memorial and they invited us over for dinner. We toured the museum, watched the movie and took the boat ride over to the monument which is built over the sunken battleship Arizona. Something struck me which would be a recurring thought through the trip. That was amazement at the structures which can be built and the resources which can be marshaled at the call of war. To see the movie with footage from all of the ships that were in the harbor preparing for war and to see the destruction which ensued was something that made me ask what are the true forces behind man's building and accomplishment.
The same thought ran though my mind as we hiked to the top of Diamond Head in the afternoon. It was a spectacular view and felt good to get out and exercise. At the top there were lookout points and gun mounts which had been carved in the rock for the military. I wondered at how industrious people can be when motivated by war. There were tunnels dug through rocks and stairs carved out of the cliffs.
After touring the memorial we drove out to the plantation where the Sharp family resided. Terry graduated with a degree in agriculture from B.Y.U. and had come to work for the Oahu Sugar Company. They had a couple of cute little girls (Sarah and Teresa). We ate a delicious hot meal of soup and rice and then walked around the little village. It was owned by the sugar company and all of the residents were working for or had worked for the plantation. There were small houses with all kinds of exotic smelling flowers and trees all of which Heather named for us. It was a beautiful sunset as we watched the sun line sweep up across the cane fields to the green mountains. We stayed the night sleeping on the floor and couch. Because of the light rain the next day, all work had been canceled. Terry got one of the company trucks and we put on our rain ponchos for a tour of the plantation. He was responsible for all of the irrigation of the cane fields.
Water is a very precious commodity and the irrigation system was complex. It is not necessarily the lack of water but the cost of pumping that makes it expensive. Terry showed us the drain system which drained the land of excess water. Large, vertical pipes marked the vents so they would not be destroyed during harvesting. He showed us the drip irrigation systems and how the water went from mainline to submain to spaghetti and finally to the drip lines which actually watered the plants. We saw filter systems which removed the sand from the water and algae systems which removed buildup and helped to keep the system from clogging. Other systems injected fertilizer which was spread through the water during irrigation.
We saw sugar cane in different stages of growth and had some to munch on as we tried to hack a path through a patch. We didn't get far as it was quite dense and near ten feet tall. It reminded me of when we were kids and we used to hide in the corn fields. We drove up to the higher lands where much of the farmland had been let go to weeds because of the cost of pumping. At the tree line we stopped and looked out over Pearl Harbor and Honolulu with Diamond Head in the background. It was beautiful and peaceful. On the way back we looked at old wooden pipeways and talked to an old Filipino who was taking water and weather readings. Terry showed us some different test plots of sugar cane which he could identify and called strains 7726, 2731, .... or some bunch of numbers. To the untrained Idaho eye it all looked the same. We also saw patches of test corn and pineapples. It was the first time that Steve realized that pineapples did not grow in trees but on the ground.
The atmosphere of the plantation was sort of a dying feeling. Terry explained that with cheap sugar imports, high cost of pumping and labor the cane industry was losing planted ground. AMFAC was a huge corporation which owned Oahu Sugar and was only keeping it going on a test basis to see if it could turn a profit with new strains of cane or alternative crops. The cannery in the village had closed and so had the sugar mill. There was old rusty equipment and junked out harvesters lined up at one end of the village. It seemed almost as if a struggling last effort was being made before the fast growing green foliage reclaimed the lands and old equipment.
We thanked Terry and Heather for their hospitality and felt we had seen a portion of Hawaii that is much more real than Waikiki. They were tentatively making plans to return to the mainland where agricultural potential was better and there would be better schools for their kids. We noticed a picture of their school classes and they were the only two howlees (Caucasians).
Another phone call set up the rest of our stay in Hawaii. Ken was a friend of York's who had been to stay with us once in Walnut Creek. We had taken him water skiing and had not called him earlier because we had not known him that well. What a mistake! He truly gave new meaning the word host. Ken was a native Hawaiian and works in Honolulu as a travel agent. He arranged to meet us at a shopping center downtown. He was a little upset that we had not called him earlier and we soon found out why. He had so many great things to show us in his native state that we were hard pressed to see them in the next 24 hours. We 'quick changed' (he talked pigeon after he got to know us a little better) and took his car up above Honolulu where he pointed out a lot of sights we wouldn't have seen; museums, government buildings, colleges, etc.. We then headed past Diamond Head to the Toilet Bowl. It was a large hole in the rocks which was fed from the bottom by the incoming waves. As a wave would come in the water would rise and surge us to the top of the bowl and then flush as the waves went out. Great fun! From there we drove up to a spectacular lookout where an ancient king had driven his enemies over the edge. The steep volcanic mountains were green with black outcroppings of lava rocks and magnificent to look at.
We then fulfilled on of those dreams that many people have when they think of Hawaii. Ken took us to a private swimming hole which had waterfalls coming in and going out. The area was ceilinged with large trees and a long, knotted rope hung over the water. We swung, splashed and swam till dark. Ken was the perfect host. We felt so at home and he was having so much fun even though we knew he had been to these places hundreds of times before.
After the swim we went back to Honolulu and out for Chinese food. We were going to pay for his food but he insisted on paying for all of ours. It was excellent. We quick changed' again and then drove out around the island past the BYU campus and temple. It was beautiful at night. He told us much of the Hawaiian history and took us up to the private school that he had attended during high school. It was established by the last Hawaiian queen for those who were native Hawaiians and the place carried an academy atmosphere. Ken insisted on desert and insisted on paying for it again. I was amazed. He took us home and made us all beds with sheets around his apartment. He washed our clothes and next morning when we awoke he had taken the ones that did not dry overnight to the laundry mat and put them in the dryer. He had also taken the morning off to see us off at the airport. On our way he stopped and bought us Hawaiian shaved ice at a little place where he knew the owner. It was a great taste sensation. At the airport he produced these beautiful flower leis and said we could not visit Hawaii without having received a lei. He insisted we come back when we could spend more time. As we took off I couldn't help marvel at such a splendid display of charity from someone who didn't even know our last names.
We flew out at 11 a.m. and the sun was shining beautifully on the beach near the runway. We really wished we could have stayed longer. We flew over the island of Hawaii and it was a beautiful sight. I could see the green of the mountains, the white sand of the beaches and the red dirt of the farmlands. Some of the beaches were black and glistened with the reflection of the receding surf.
JAPAN
We raced the setting sun to the west as we headed for the land of the rising sun. Another huge plane that was like a floating hotel. Ben seemed to become more pensive as we got closer to Japan. I realized that it was his first time out of the United States. Several minutes before landing, we descended through the clouds and were able to see the land below. Neat mounds of timber land fitted with rice paddies and occasional villages. Ben stared out the window with eyes wide open.
Narita Airport equals security squared. Even as we flew over the end of the runway we noticed the security fences which were amply high and doubly deep. Guard towers and radio antennas dotted the compound. The runway of white concrete was very wide and long and the entire airport was huge. Uniformed security were everywhere but everything was very efficient. We were through customs and had changed some money in just a matter of minutes. There we were standing in the terminal looking at a display of the new Toyota MR2 sports car which we had never seen in the United States. We found an information center and asked for directions to the youth hostel. Again apprehension was beginning to mount as it was getting dark. We called the hostel nearest to downtown Tokyo and it was full. Fortunately, there were vacancies at the other location and the Japanese lady at Information gave us written and verbal instructions. We were to take two trains. Some directions were not given by stops but by minutes. "Ride the train for 27 minutes, then get off." It was amazingly accurate, considering there were 11 stops during that period of time.
New and foreign ways of doing things became immediately evident. Train ticket machines were color coded for different routes. Routes however were written in Japanese characters. Our written instructions told us the machine but not the currency to use. Unfortunately, we did not have the proper change. There was no place to change bills and the train would soon be coming and the longer we waited, the more the hostel would fill up. Finally out of desperation, pushed the lone red button in the middle of a white wall. An unseen door opened and a man exploded with strings of incomprehensible Japanese. We pointed to the machines and the bills to describe our plight and he quickly exchanged the bills.
Our first train ride almost touched off an international incident. We were comparing the conji's (Japanese characters) on our direction sheet with the ones along the ceiling of the train car and asked a young businessman if we were on the right train by pointing to the sheet. He nodded that it was right. An older fellow, obviously drunk, started to disagree. Within minutes they were outside of the train slugging it out. I was about to intervene when Steve stopped me. He said that it happened all of the time in Korea and that it would embarrass the others if we were to pay any attention. We didn't and eventually they quit and got back on the train.
The ride into town was full of interesting sights. We rode through small towns where we could see the open markets. Hundreds of bicycles (all unlocked) were parked at the stations. Little tiny bus taxis and van ambulances. We rode over bridges and passed flooded fields of rice. Closer to town, the apartments began to rise along the tracks creating a deep channel which eventually became a tunnel under the city. Two train transfers were necessary to make it to the hostel. Both were miracles. All, yes all, directions were in conji. Steve had some experience reading the stuff as Korean's use some of the same Chinese characters. We mostly went by color and showing the written directions that the information lady had written. The Shinjuku station was a multi-level labyrinth. Trains were coming and going on five levels in six directions. Riverlets of people were rushing from level to level and train to train. We took a smaller, feeder train to Sangubashi. It was night but there were many lights. Tiny was the first impression. Narrow streets, small shops, tiny vans, little cars and scooters. A Honda was a big vehicle.
We found our way across the tracks to the remains of the Olympic village. The hostel was a four level dorm structure and each room had six beds. The people at the desk gave us clean sheets and took our money and student I.D. cards. Little did we realize that this would be one of the last places that we would get sheets until we reached Europe several months later.
Of major concern was what to do with our packs. They were heavy and we did not want to carry them around just to go eat and didn't know how trusting we could be. We decided to leave them in our room. That seemed safe. We took the day packs that zipped of the back, loaded them with the valuables (passport, ticket, money, etc.) and headed out to stave off hunger pains. Again we felt apprehension as to whether we would be able to survive on our daily allowance. We knew that it was going to be a tight trip moneywise and felt that we needed to set a precedent in the first foreign country. Exceeding the budget would only shorten the trip. We were expecting food to be $6-7 a meal because of Tokyo's high cost of living but were very pleasantly surprised when the noodle dish across the tracks only cost us 350 yen (the equivalent of $1.60).
Many of the Japanese restaurants have displays in the window with plastic food, the name written in Japanese and the price written in Arabic - kind of a three dimensional menu. Figuring out how to order was something else. We couldn't tell which characters on the menu matched which dishes in the window. Steve slipped outside for a moment and returned with the characters of the dish we selected written on his hand. He showed his hand to the waitress/cook/owner and counted off three, pointing to each of us. We watched Japanese TV and warmed ourselves while we waited. It was quite cold and very humid. In a few minutes, we were eating steaming egg noodles in a light sauce with cabbage, sprouts, pork, onions, etc..
Back at the dorm we met the other occupants of our room. One was a quiet Japanese boy. Many of them come from the country to Tokyo to take tests for school. While washing my clothes I carried on a conversation with several of them. They were so polite yet funlovingly curious about America and practicing their English. The washing machines were so tiny. I thought I had ruined one by washing three pair of Levis at one time. One roommate was from Australia and was a teacher on holiday. The other was from a fellow named Manoge from Calcutta.
Manoge was a very fascinating personality and we talked with him for a couple of hours. He had come to Japan to study the economy and see the manufacturing and trade. He was very well educated on world affairs and opinionated as to what the Japanese were doing to the world economy. According to him, Japan was at war with the Americans to capture US manufacturing and develop a superior economy. Korea was at war with Japan and is trying to carve a piece of the economic pie. Although he had never been to the US he knew it very well. He was familiar with the Church and had a friend at BYU. He told us all about the good things of India and the places that we should visit. It sounded exotic and fascinating. He also invited us to visit him in Calcutta.
I slept great that night. It just felt good to have a roof overhead and a little bit of heat. The weather was very cold and wet and the heaters came on at 9 pm and went off at 6 am. The next day it was still raining. As part of the `experience it all' theme, we decided to try a different form of transportation to downtown Tokyo and set about to decipher the spider web of the underground subway system. Many of the stations were the same as the trains but the entire system was underground. A great fear was getting on the wrong train and ending up outside the limits of the map that we had.
We found our way to downtown Tokyo and we exited from the station only to find avenues of shops going in several directions, all underground. After wandering for a bit we found a stairway which lead up to natural light and of course, cold rain. It was then decided that we would do what would become a regular in each country we visited, see how and what natives buy. The shops were tiny and the corridors went for miles. Shops were filled with all manner of merchandise. There were clothes, shoes, leather, jewelry, books, groceries, and even computer shops. The most fascinating were the toy shops with all of the games, gadgets, lights, and junk. We looked at computers that used kanjis and had keyboards in the shape of hands and listened to a new invention that we had heard of but not seen in the States, compact disk players.
After popping up several times to see if the rain had let up we decided that it wasn't going to quit so we donned our rain ponchos and forged ahead to see what was visible through the drizzle. Before we left California, we had stopped at an army surplus store to buy the ponchos. I had bought one for $20 which was nylon and Steve had bought two plastic ponchos for $5. Mine leaked around the neck and I ended up borrowing one of Steve's. Our first conquest was the Imperial Palace with its moat, fortresses and gardens. While tramping around the outside we met Richard from Ireland who was also seeking an entrance. Our first attempt to cross the moat found us at a huge wooden door which was heavily guarded with armed security officers. They spoke gruffly and pointed to an entrance in the distance. It must have been where the emperor hung out if he indeed did stay at the palace.
Once inside we just walked around the gardens and looked at the exterior of the buildings with the many different types of architecture. We climbed a small vista and were able to see across the deserted palace grounds which disappeared into the fog and the rain. We snapped a picture or two at the wall and then walked to the National Museum. It was fairly expensive and jammed with school children so we decided to rest. We wandered downstairs to some chairs and vending machines. The pop cans were skinny and taller than what we were used. Ben had to try one labeled "Old Georgia". The first swig convinced him that it was not soda and one from each of us lead to the conclusion that it must be cold coffee! Yuk.
Walking around in the rain at the Imperial Palace not knowing anything about where we were convinced us that we needed some direction and background in our wandering. We set out for the tourist office which was located in the Ginza Market. The office was closed but we spent time wandering through the streets. The place was alive with people, even though it was raining. All the shops were crowded and there were lights everywhere with flashing signs in Japanese kanji. Fascinating crafts and merchandise from all over Japan. There were movie houses, restaurants and banks.
We found our way back to the subway station and stopped in an underground store to buy some hot raisin bread. I'm sure that we looked like vagabonds as we sat on the floor in our rainsoaked clothes devouring a loaf of bread. We got some funny looks which was not what we had grown accustomed to. No one ever even looks at you unless you are talking to them. People keep their eyes only on what is down and directly ahead of them.
We took the subway again back to the dorm and warmed up by the kerosene heater while we waited for check in time at 5:00 pm. While waiting I browsed through a book on Japanese culture; specifically - how to properly conduct oneself in the fuddo (public bath). To the Japanese this activity is performed with order. The bath house was several buildings away and we sprinted in the rain. The entry way contained shelves to put clothes and slippers. Through the second door and into the steam filled room was taken only soap and a small towel which was used for washing and chammying off the water once finished. I sensed as we entered that we were noticed. The only fair skinned bodies. The book said that the towel was used to wash and when walking or standing to cover nakedness. Steve, accustomed to the Korean style, threw his towel over his shoulder and charged ahead.
The outside of the room was surrounded with taps about three feet apart and about a foot high. There were little stools and plastic pans that were stacked and scattered about the room. In the center of the room was a large, waist deep pool from which steam was rising. The procedure was to sit on the stool in front of the tap, shave, and wash oneself thoroughly using the towel and the pan, then retire to the hot pool for a relaxing soak. After a long day trudging in the cold rain the sensation was sublime.
The next day was Sunday and it was exactly that, clear and sunny. We had found a telephone number that was a directory assistance for English. We called and got directions to the church and then located the train and subway stations on the map. We headed into the suburbs and finally ended up at the station that we had been directed to. The address was not so easy to find. No one spoke English. We finally asked at a police station and they directed us to the right area. Once in the area we walked and walked. Some people looked at the address written by the police and asked their neighbors but no one really seemed to know. We finally hiked up a side road and discovered what must have been the false object of our search. It was the Saint Andrews Colombian Mission. We had asked for directions to the Latter-day Saint Mission home.
By now it was afternoon so we decided that we would head back towards the airport and see if we could find an inexpensive hotel to spend the night. Another false presumption. We kept looking for little villages with boarding houses or small hotels but there was nothing at all before Narita. The village of Narita is part traditional Japanese and part international jetset accommodations. The only lodging available was at Hotel Let's, (let's what?). The rates were $60 for a room for three. We debated as it was over the budget but figured that we had saved some and that we were actually a day ahead because of crossing the international date line and spending a night in the airport.
We really noticed the contrast between student class and tourist class. The room was on the seventh floor with a beautiful view of the countryside. Beds, sheets, TV, and our own modular bathroom. It looked as if the bathroom had been placed as a unit. The tub, sink and toilet were all molded plastic and one piece with the walls and ceiling. Everything in the room was computerized.
Since we missed church we decided to have our own religious discussion which degenerated into arguments over personalities. We had been too close together for too long under intense circumstances. A walk through the village melted the tensions. The narrow windy streets were lined with shops containing produce of every kind. Fruits, cakes, vegetables, dried roots, paper, and religious paraphernalia (incense, bells, and many other things that I couldn't imagine a use for). We found a greasy tabled restaurant and ate hot soup.
"Monday - while waiting for the flight we watched TV; the Japanese version of Star Search and American Bandstand. It looks like they have the westernization well under control. Lots of neat TV graphics, better than I have see on US TV."
We also walked to the large Buddhist temple which was a major attraction in Narita. We wandered the grounds looking at the monks quarters and the gardens. We entered the temple and listened to the chanting and watched the robed figures. The buildings were large and open to the air. The temple and grounds were clean and spacious. Not much glitter or gold. Mostly woods and polished rock. We bought some oranges and rolls and welcomed the warmth of the morning sun as we ate.
We took the train the last leg to the airport and mentally prepared for the next country. We disposed of what money we had remaining at the airport on french frys and hamburgers and then relaxed and waited for the next flight. There is a feeling in airports that is quite welcome after spending some time in a foreign land, sort of like returning home. It may be that the airport is known to be the only passage back to a more familiar environment.
KOREA
It was an evening flight from Tokyo to Seoul. I was seated next to one of the new generation Koreans who had gone abroad to sell the latest of Korean production. He was attired in expensive sportswear but was very modest. He was a representative for a sports company which manufactured products for AMF and Coleman. He was very friendly. He had been to the US several times and was awed by the wealth and freedom. He spoke of his struggle to keep learning English at a rate that kept pace with the demand for growing sales coverage. He spoke of his family and the restrictions that were placed on its size and challenges that met his children.
Korea. It was time to relax and let Steven do the thinking. There is a tremendous amount of effort that goes into surviving the first few hours in any country: currency calculation and deciding where and how much to cash (830 one/$1), transportation to a location where you won't get ripped off or mugged, language barriers, cultural differences, where to stay, etc..
Steve could now take over all of that responsibility. He knew the money, what places to stay, and how to speak the language. We had decided to take the midnight train from Seoul to Pusan and hailed a taxi at the airport. Ben and I rolled into the back seat and let Steve up front to do the talking. We had kidded him a little about his ability to still speak Korean and he assured us that he was still fluent. Ben and I were poised in the back seat waiting to hear his directions to the train depot. He hesitated for a few seconds, turned to the driver and said, "Seoul Staashun". The driver returned a blank look. Steve repeated, "Seoul Staashun". The driver, still confused, summoned a hotel recruiter who asked the directions in English and then explained in Korean to the driver. Ben and I laughed uncontrollably and mimicked him all the way to the train station.
People would look at you in Korea. Almost everyone in Japan would look down or straight ahead but never at you. I know we must have stood out but were never stared at. The train station in Seoul was different. Steve went to find tickets and in the time that he was gone we were accosted by a drunk, a beggar , and someone wanting us to smoke something. There was also a pungent odor which lingered in the air. I soon found what may have been the source of it when I ventured into the restroom. There was no water to wash down waste once the job was done. It simply accumulated or drained in an open trough until the cleaning people came in with their rubber boots and fire hoses and washed it away. They had just finished and as I stepped into a stall found it dripping with less than clean water.
Steve eventually returned with a friend he had met in line and we boarded the chair car for an all night ride to Pusan. Early morning Pusan was cold. The humidity from the ocean and the low temperatures had us bundled in all of our warmest clothes. We were following Steve in this country but I am not sure he knew exactly what we were going to do. We took a bus to his old area and then started walking. We walked around the stadium while he showed us were the elders used to play basketball. We walked in the direction of the church trying several alleys before we found it. We started walking towards downtown when the weight of the pack, the cold, hunger, and the bad nights sleep began to wear on me. I demanded that we find some place to stay and forced Steve to remember what the Korean characters for yogwan were.
Yogwans are the Korean answer to inexpensive motels. Our first was a small room just large enough for the three of us and our packs to fit inside. The floors were heated either by electric pads or by circulating hot water. The only heat in the room comes from the floor. There was usually a thick pad to sleep on and then a blanket or two to go on top. Having the heat come from underneath created a nice secure feeling. Our first room was heated with water which was heated with yuntons. Yunton is charcoal which is shaped like a quart can with holes drilled through it lengthwise. They were sold in every market in every town we visited and fueled many a roadside vendors portable shop. A round lid in the yogwan floor was lifted and a new yunton was placed on the smoldering remains of the last one. This started the new one to burning and it was good for another twelve hours or so. Our first night left Ben and I with headaches leading us to believe that we should have left the window cracked. Steve said that missionaries had died from these little black units emitting carbon dioxide.
With Steve in command we were to see all of Pusan in one morning. We charged downtown and through the market place. Our first experience with Korean food was to eat cold noodles in a cold restaurant. The noodles were covered with a cold but spicy hot sauce (the dish was called peeping pop). To me the dish matched the waste removal system. Atop the Pusan tower we had a planning meeting to see what we would like to see for the rest of the day. We all three picked one thing that we found interesting.
My choice was the marketplace. Every country fascinated me with the things which were to be bought and sold. The market area of Pusan was several square blocks of tightly packed little shops. Each street appeared to have evolved around a particular trade. Hardware alley was path after path of every kind of tool and component. There were casters, hinges, pulleys, motors, lights, tools, wires and electrical components. In the mens clothes area a man stopped me and tried to sell me a fully lined raincoat for $20. We learned fast not to linger or look as the merchants were very aggressive. Next to the docks was a huge two-story building with edible merchandise. In the fish area you could take delivery of your fish in any form: frozen cubes, flayed, dried, or still swimming. I had never seen a pan full of swimming eels before. Upstairs there were rows of seasonings, spices, different rices, ground peppers and varieties of kimchi. The kimchi is like cabbage that has been pickled, peppered and fermented. Kimchi is mostly red, very hot and smells very strong. Winter kimchi is more like lightly pickled cabbage and before we left I was developing a taste for it.
Ben's choice was the sweater factory. As Steve remembered it, the sweater factory was a place to buy beautiful sweaters and shirts at very reasonable prices. It took a while to locate and lots of hiking. When we arrived we found it closed but the clerks that lived there were more than willing to open to foreigners who had travelers checks. I am afraid we would have disappointed them had some other foreigners not come in and started buying. Ben bought one all wool sweater for $8 and Steve a white shirt for $1.25 which had a Mervin's label in it.
Steve's choice was to visit his old mission home. When we arrived, the heat was off and the elders were sitting at their desks dressed in heavy sweaters and jackets. The home was in the process of moving to a new location and so much of what had been there when Steve was there had been removed and the bare cracked walls remained. As we squatted on the street waiting for the next bus into town he reminisced as to how those walls used to ring with laughter and good spirit.
The food began to get better. We found bakeries which made soft, fluffy raisin bread like what we had eaten in Japan. Near our yogwan we indulged in the full experience of sokumgooey. We were ushered into our own private room with a low table and pillows to sit on. Our cook entered and remained through the entire meal. The main course consisted of browned beef which we dipped in seasoned sesame seed oil with lettuce, noodles and a hot sauce. Of course there was water and new kimchi. Another favorite was pogumpop (fried rice with meat and egg over the top).
Our next stop was to be Chinju but a problem arose in just finding the bus station to get out of the city. We got on bus line 10 at the direction of a bus driver. We headed to the central station but when we got to where Steve had remembered it, there was nothing there. We got on bus line 57 and went to the next station but Chinju was not serviced from there. We again got on bus 10 and then someone we asked directions of told us to get off at the next stop. We stood there (nowhere really) and finally asked the token purser who told us to get back on bus line 10. We finally got there and were walking around the corner when a bus pulled up to us and the driver of the very first bus we boarded said, "I told you to get on 10 and stay there". It was pretty funny and such a coincidence that after so many miles, buses, and in such a large city that he would notice we had finally made it.
The bus to Chinju was very pleasant. The countryside was much cleaner and more peaceful. There were frequent toll roads and the traffic was fairly slow. We could still see many signs of US military. Helicopters were on patrol over the city and there were bases in the country. Country folk seemed to have life a little better than city dwellers. The farms were neat and clean with large houses clustered together and surrounded by rice paddies. It was well into the dry season and most of the diked paddies were caked mud and dry straw.
Chinju was a quieter and smaller town. We got a yogwan near the station so we wouldn't have to drag our packs around town. The owner wanted to charge us more than the normal rate because she would have to go around to all the neighbors and gather blankets to cover the big foreigners. We assured her that we had our Blue Kazoos and they would be adequate.
"Ben just woke up and he isn't feeling too well. We have been eating foreign food for about a week now so it is about time for his stomach to "walk" as the Thai's would say. He and Steve sat around last night and talked of french fries, hamburgers and moms best meals. Actually what we had was quite good. Steve and I walked into town and had fried rice with egg. Ben had to settle for "milgoms" (little oranges), Seven Star Cider, and some of that white Japanese air bread."
We experienced what Steve referred to as his major mission trial, the weather. We walked around the town during the day and just subjected ourselves to the cold, moist air and biting wind. I spent the afternoon and evening in our yogwan sitting on the electric floor mats and thinking. I thought about my friends the Foulgers and Williams and wondered how things were going back on the fast track in Silicon Valley.
I wanted to really use the time on the trip to clear my mind and gain a proper perspective but it always seems difficult to place oneself in a spiritual frame of mind. It was nice to be removed from the worry of a job or school or anything in the near future. Our major challenges were to locate a place to stay and find something to eat. "I think we are gaining a much better understanding of what are `needs' and what are `wants'. Sleep, food and warmth are pretty important. Life here can be so simple for some and yet still have such quality. Homes, cars, wardrobes, and things are not really necessary."
"I have also been thinking about Dad and his stay here during the Korean war. I try to imagine what it would have been like to have been here with fighting and killing and fear. I am thankful that I can come as a tourist and that the Church has been established and is growing. Steve talked with a couple of members in Pusan that remembered him as a missionary. At the time he was here one was a nonmember and the other newly baptized. Now one is a ward mission leader and the other a ward clerk.
"Contemplation aside, the question of the hour is, "To mogyok or not mogyok?". Is this weekly Korean custom a diversion of the flesh or is it a necessary and pleasing ritual? Either way, it sure feels good. Mogyok is the Koreans answer to the Japanese bath house. They are easily spotted because of the tall smoke stacks which most of them have. The procedure is much like the Japanese but the Koreans are less inhibited. The one in Chinju was very nice with raised hardwood decks, hot pools, cold pools, scented pools, and a sauna. We just kept going from one to the other until we started looking like prunes. I think it did Ben in as he had not fully recovered from his first attack of the gaumboo.
"The persistent cold weather was beginning to affect the readings on the fun meter so we decided to move on to Taegu for the weekend. Steve had a lot of good memories from this area and wanted to go the church there. We first found the church and then a yogwan nearby. Ben was in pretty bad shape and spent the next two days in bed. Our room had a black and white TV which got the Armed Forces Network (AFN). He watched the Kentucky Derby, and old reruns. With the cold (it was snowing some) our sightseeing trips were limited so we did a lot of reading. Uncle Russ had given me Irving Stone's "The Agony and the Ecstasy" before we left and said to read it before going to Italy. I would read about 40 pages then rip them off and give them to Steve. He would read them then pass them on to Ben. It should have been the other way around as Ben is such a voracious reader that he was often waiting and I had to rip off five pages at a time."
Steve and I went downtown to a book shop and he bought "Wuthering Heights" for $.50. Rather than just throw it in a bag, the old gentleman wrapped it very neatly and then bowed as he presented it to us.
Steve and I took a bus out in the country to Yung Nam University just to see what a college campus looked like. It was nice and clean and the surrounding countryside was beautiful with the neat rice terraces. I couldn't help noticing however, there and as we rode back how everything was lacking quality of construction. Houses that were not terribly old were having to be torn down. Sidewalks had gone to pot, curbs crumbled. Nothing was built to last.
We needed to figure out how to get Ben some hot food. His diet of Seven Star Cider and bread was not really helping. When we ordered food at the little restaurants, they didn't ask if this was "for here or to go?". At the two places where we asked if we could take the food in their bowels on a tray and then return it, they wanted to know why. When Steve explained that we had a sick companion they insisted on bringing the entire meal to our room and then returning to get the tray at no extra charge. It was a couple of blocks in the cold for the one old woman and when we tried to give her a tip she politely refused while giving us instructions on how to get Ben well.
Some of the new foods that we tried included bulgogi. It was a delicious mix of beef and vegetables cooked at our table over rice with sides of winter kimchee, clams, egg, seaweed soup and regular kimchee. It was fairly expensive though at about 3000 won per dinner. We also tried yaki mondoo which was a kind of chicken wonton.
Sunday we went to church. It was a nice large ward with lots of young people. The building was heated and that contributed to a warm spirit. The bishop was very gracious, spoke good English, and translated for me. He has some unique challenges. Steve saw several faces that he recognized. There were some very good discussions in the classes and I noted it interesting how minds inquiring after the truths of the gospel seem to move in the same patterns and ask the same questions that are asked in wards back home. Two Korean missionaries that were leaving for Seoul gave their farewell talks. We prayed for Ben and by evening he was feeling much better.
Monday morning we took a bus to Seoul and charged around for a while trying to find the temple and find out where Steve's old mission president was. Some of the differences in our traveling behavior started to surface. Rather than ask directions or call on the phone, we would take bus after bus and then walk and walk some more. The way we finally found the temple was to walk to the top of a hill where we thought it was and then spot it across the way on another hill. It was fortunate though, as it was really the best view we were able to get of the entire temple as it was in a close area with other buildings.
The temple was still under construction. We spoke to the construction superintendent and he allowed a tour. Our guide was the new janitor-to-be. He was very proud of the building and showed us each and every room. It is a small temple but will be beautiful. It is a contrast to most of the other structures we saw in quality of construction. The temple is located on the same property as the institute. While we were waiting for our tour guide, out of the institute came the two elders that had spoken in church the day before. They looked glad to recognize someone even though we had only briefly met them the day before. We had one of them take a picture of the three of us in front of the temple.
Seoul is a big city. There is the rush of cars, taxis, and lots of buses. We wandered the markets looking at the exotic fruits and dried fish. We found a yogwan near the temple, mogyoked, watched the Daytona 500, and slept on a conventional bed. The next morning I had a backache. We took a taxi to the airport and left a recovering Ben to watch the packs while Steve and I looked for breakfast and flew the kite.
The kite was a bon voyage gift from Steve's friend Vincent. Instructions were to assemble and fly the kite in every country we visited and take pictures as evidence. Vincent had made the kite himself out of red, white and blue plastic and had sent it in its own traveling case. In Japan we had waited till the last minute and Ben and Steve had ended up flying it in the parking lot of the airport. Korea was a repeat. It was so cold that we had trouble assembling it with our gloves on. Steve flew it and I took the picture. We disassembled it and after breakfast strapped it to Steve's pack which was checked as baggage. That was the last we saw it. At the Manila airport we waited till all luggage was claimed but it never showed up.
My thoughts as we left Korea were on the conscious and unconscious tensions that were felt. The struggle of some against the elements was visible the night we walked downtown and passed women wrapped in thin sheets at temperatures that were near freezing. The sound of US and Korean helicopters reminded us that one force is visible anticipating another which is not far away. In Seoul it was struggle towards the appearance of a western civilization with western dress, music, hairstyles, and factories.
PHILIPPINES
Our steward on the flight from Tokyo to Manila was from Rigby, Idaho and was Mormon. I had noticed that he announced in both English and Japanese so I asked him where he had learned Japanese. We had a good talk and he told us that he had gone to work for the airlines to travel but was now married with children and was looking for work which would keep him at home.
Hot, moist air enveloped us as we walked across the tarmac and up the ramp to the terminal at the Manila airport. I kept thinking, "I wish I didn't have my longjons on!" The warm tropical odor of vegetation and city pollution brought back memories of Bangkok. The atmosphere at the airport was completely relaxed and easy going. There were several Americans and servicemen but no one was in a hurry. Everyone was dressed in shorts and casual clothes. We went through customs and changed money with no problems (exchange was 18 pesos to $1 at the airport or 20 pesos at the money changers in town). We were getting to be old hands.
The minute we stepped outside of the front door however, our situation suddenly became apparent. It was late at night. We were in a strange country with no idea where to stay and there were no less than 20 people clamoring for our attention and trying to get us to take their taxi or their hotel or their restaurant. We had originally intended to find a place to leave our big packs and then look for the youth hostel. But panic overtook us and we let a lady talk us into staying at her hotel for $20. She had watched us refuse the other frenzied crowd and then approached us while we were discussing our plight. We rationalized by saying it was within budget. She showed us a brochure with large rooms and a beautiful pool. "How do we get there?", we asked. Our options were to take a taxi or wait for their own "special" airport transportation. We opted for the airport transportation and waited for 15 minutes till an old, smoking, rolling wreck pulled to the curb in front of us. The driver got out in his tattered shorts and T-shirt and untied the string that held the trunk down. I began to get that sick feeling that I had made a bad choice.
The drive to the hotel was not really impressive. I knew that there would be some really nice sections of Manila and some not so nice and this area fit in the latter category. The "airport transportation" said we had arrived and asked us for 160 pesos. It had taken us about twenty minutes and I figured that $8 for that long was not unreasonable in some cities of the world so we paid. The driver protested that it was 160 pesos per person and then we protested. The hotel lady, who had ridden with us, told him that 160 pesos was enough for all and to go along.
The pictures from the brochure had been taken in another era. The paint was cracked and faded. The pool was filmy and full of floaters. As we checked in there were several men lounging around the lobby in their night clothes staring at us. The person behind the counter offered to keep all of our valuables at the front desk and we politely refused. Once inside the room we made sure the windows and doors would lock and then put all our valuables under us as we slept. The hot water wasn't hot but the temperature didn't require it. Fortunately, the air conditioning did work and the room was clean. I slept fitfully, half expecting some of those unshaven "lobbyists" to come after us with their butterfly knives that Dan had talked so much about.
The light of morning sun gives an entirely new perspective to a situation. The section of town wasn't that bad. It is just that with little zoning, there are ruins and slums next to major attractions. We were only a few blocks from the bay. We decided to return to the airport and leave our large packs there, taking only the small packs and the few clothes needed for the warmer climate. We took a metered taxi and it cost us 25 pesos! We later returned on a bus for 50 centavos (1/2 peso). More "learning money" which will be explained later.
Discovering the secrets of Manila proved to be a monumental task. First the only maps of the city were in expensive hotels and cost over half of one day's allowance. Besides that, there were no bus routes and most important, nothing which indicated jeepney routes. Jeepneys are the peoplemovers of Manila and all the Philippines for that matter. They are an evolution of the WWII army jeep that has developed into a chrome laden, rhythm pulsing, alley bus which looks like a lighted Christmas tree on the outside and a mini Catholic shrine complete with two red benches on the inside. The outsides were covered with chrome bumpers, signal lights, horns, fins, mirrors, and assorted figures. The front compartment contained a high wattage stereo, crucifixes, statues, and four or five of the drivers young friends or family. Passengers sat in the back and passed their money up the line to the driver or one of his associates.
Once we learned some of the routes, we took jeepneys everywhere. The nightlife in Manila kept the streets clogged with them well after midnight. At 11 p.m. we could walk from the hostel in any direction and still get there faster than the jeepneys because of traffic. A night walk was interesting and many people were out because of the cool. The gas fumes and haze from traffic was forgotten in the excitement of the night markets and crowds. There were new fruits and different foods from the street vendors. Groups of college students milled around talking disco.
We managed after several sets of directions to find the International Youth Hostel sign. It is a green triangle with stick tree and house and this sign was rusty. The hostel was not what we had envisioned when we read the pamphlet. It was an old house with concrete floors and walls. The girl manning the desk took her time and said she would show us the one vacant room. We followed her upstairs while she kept singing over and over, "I want to get close to you" and "tonight I give my love to you". We felt secure though, knowing that there were three of us and if the missionaries go in twos for protection, three was even better. The room was small and had a double bed and a single bed with about two feet around each. There was at least an eight inch sag from the edge of the bed to the middle. But for $6 a night? We took it without reservation. We locked the door and headed out to experience Manila.
Lots of walking. We walked to a market which was closed, to some hotels to find directions, to a Kentucky Fried Chicken to eat, and finally to the pier were boats left for Corrigidor. The cost was $35 for a half day trip (way over budget). There must be a cheaper way to get there. We asked five people and got five different sets of directions. We were really missing Dan. He was supposed to be with us for this section of the trip!
We met some interesting people at the hostel. There were several Israelis. We visited with them at night over melons and fruit from the market. I was a little nervous sharing the same knife for fruit as one of them who was quarantined in the Philippines because he had hepatitis. I found them very interesting. For one thing they were very close as a society. They passed books to one another and information as to what were the best sights to see at what times and how best to get there. I was impressed by their intelligence and aggressiveness which seemed balanced with simple hardworking commitment. We listened to their side of the troubles in the middle east and realized that even among themselves, there is more than one side of the situation. One fellow, Gadi, spent a couple of evenings talking to us about our lives and the Church. He was simply shocked by our moral commitments and asked many questions.
During the first day we more or less kicked back. We washed our clothes in buckets by hand like the natives do with a cake of soap I had bought in the market. I found what had to be one of the most repulsive living conditions I have seen. On the back side of a market was an open sewage canal which was full of debris and garbage from the residents and market refuse. Part of the market area was rocks and slag and the sewage was seeping up creating puddles here and there in the marketplace. I wondered where the city sanitation inspector was or if there was such a person.
Next day we set out to find the natives route to Corrigedor. Little did we know that natives don't really care to see it so there isn't an inexpensive route. We took a Jeepney to the Santa Cruz market. It was massive, above and below ground with shops and merchandise everywhere. We caught a bus down the peninsula to Banglora. The ride was beautiful once outside the teeming mass of Manila. Miles of rice paddies, coconut trees, banana trees, nepa huts, water carabao. Small villages with sports arenas, roadside watermelon stands and Iglesio ni Christo Churches. These churches, located in almost every town, were impressive structures with architecture which resembled some of our temples. Dan said that is where they got the idea. I was amazed at how prevalent they were.
When the bus stopped the vendors would board with sodas, pork crisps (deep fried pig fat), and ballut (little cooked chickens inside eggs).
When we arrived at Bangalora we found we had to take another bus to Malveris before we could catch a boat. Malveris seemed to be the end of the earth in a way. We drove further to the end of the peninsula and then wound down a steep mountainside. Just outside of town, the highway ended and there was just enough room for one bus to bounce down the rocky dirt road. The bus stopped a couple of blocks into town and the driver said, "Get off. This is town center." We walked to the beach and out on the crumbling cement pier. Boat drivers wanted 350 pesos to take us out which was some savings but there wasn't enough time left that day to make the trip. We had already paid for our night at the hostel so we had to be content to sit on the pier and admire the island from a distance.
The trip back was beautiful and peaceful as the setting sun lit up the vertical miles of billowing clouds. The whites, yellows, oranges and reds of the clouds contrasted with the green shades of the rice fields and banana plantations. The peacefulness of the evening was gradually eroded away by entrance back into Manila. As we neared the market the traffic got slower and slower until it took us a complete hour to go the last mile. We would have gotten off and walked if we had known where we were. We cruised a few of the shops looking at watches, sunglasses, shirts, and shorts, and eventually bought a pair of thongs.
Dan's mission president, President Andrus, was now the president of the new Manila temple. I called and got directions and told him who we were. The Philippine temple is spectacular. It sits on a gradual hillside which looks out over a large valley and part of the city. As our taxi driver pulled up at about sundown he gasped and asked, "What is that?". The pure white spires and the graceful architecture were magnificent. We had left our good clothes at the airport and were hot but ventured inside. Several American couples were serving there as temple missionaries and they assured us that we were dressed as well as many of the natives to attend the temple. We had some time before the session so did initiatory work. The temple workers were all curious about our trip and several of them were from Idaho so between each ordinance they were asking us a million questions. The session room was small but full. We wore the formal Filipino dress shirts as part of the temple clothes. The shirts have a design running down the front and an open collar.
Afterwards we visited with President and Sister Andrus and they told us what a good missionary Dan had been. President Andrus said that he could count on Dan to help straighten out any problem situation. A Sister Cox said to tell Dan that a family in Santa Rosa that he baptized still asks about him. We also visited with some of the Filipino members, one who thought she remembered Paula. They were very friendly and had such a warm spirit. It was a different side of the Filipino people than we had seen in the taxi drivers and street vendors.
Four of our ten days in the Philippines were gone just trying to find our way around Manila. This traveling was a lot of work. Miles of walking, asking directions and trying to find safe places to eat. We didn't eat too much of the native food because it didn't look that appealing. Nothing looked like what I used to eat at Carman's Fine Phillipine Food in San Francisco. We were ready to find a place to relax. There must be one of the 7000 islands that would be relaxing and away from the city! After hanging around in an air conditioned mall for a while, we ran across a travel agency.
Our initial plan was to obtain some information about some possible locations and then find our own way there. We explained to the travel agent what we were looking for and she showed us a picture of a small island with white sand beaches. We discarded our recent experience with brochures and asked the location. Boracay with a rolled "r". Just to be polite we allowed her to figure a package tour for five days plus airfare. To our surprise, it was within budget even with airfare. A five day package was only $45 per person. We booked it. The deal was to include airfare to a neighboring island, breakfast everyday, and our own nepa hut at Mrs. Yap's "Summer Place". The only thing we had to take care of was the boat from the island of Tablas where we would land to the island of Boracay.
The Philippine domestic air terminal was definitely on a different level than the international airports we had become accustomed to. Our twin engine prop plane was delayed for an hour but we were finally on board and in the air. As we flew out over the ocean we could see what must have been some type of fish farms. Water was visible in all directions but here and there were houses on stilts. Stretching out from the houses were fencelines which created a spider web pattern over the entire bay area.
The flight to Tablas was about an hour long and we circled for a few moments waiting for a storm to pass so we could land. The runway which ended at the beach was just barely long enough to stop the plane. This was what I always imagined when I thought of a tropical island paradise! Open fields, coconut and banana trees, green hills, and the ocean. The terminal was just an open building with a roof. There were three or four huts, a small inn and that was the town. Our plane arrival and unloading 15 to 20 people was a major happening.
There was one jeepney which was loading for the town of Santa Fe where we were to catch a pump boat for Boracay. The rate quoted by the driver was considerably steeper than the agent said we would have to pay. It should have been about 5 pesos and he wanted 20. We were still converting to dollars and to us $1 was not outrageous for a 29 kilometer ride but some of the others would not stand for it. A spokesman emerged from the group of 15 tourists that were there. His name was Robert and he was a Frenchman who taught English and French in Japan and had brought his Japanese wife on holiday. His counterpart in the negotiation was a very vocal Filipino lady who insisted that Americans had plenty of money to pay. She overlooked the fact that of the 15 of us, only five were Americans. The Americans probably would have paid but that infuriated the French, British and Canadians.
Robert caucused the group, gaining commitments to band together and assuring us that it would only be a matter of time before they weakened and gave us the regular fare. We walked around a bit and the rest of the group bought beer at the inn. After 30 minutes and no sign of agreement, five of the group broke ranks and climbed on board. It must have been enough to give them profit because they began to leave. The driver would go a few feet and then stop saying that this was the last jeepney of the day. Robert assured us that there were more and that the driver would not leave and risk losing all our fares. He was wrong on both counts.
The jeepney was gone and there were no other vehicles in the village. There were no phones or even electricity. No place to stay and it was starting to rain. The three of us started walking down the deserted dirt road. The comedy of the situation struck us and we began to laugh. As it began to pour we broke off some banana leaves and held them over our heads as we walked and joked at our mini international crisis. There were three French, two British, one Japanese, one Canadian, three Americans, and a village and surrounding countryside of Filipinos who had come to stare. The urgency of the situation was overcome by the beauty of the island. "So what if we are stranded. This is one of the most beautiful places ever to be stranded in. We won't freeze and we may get wet but it is warm. There are coconuts and bananas everywhere."
The consensus of the group was that we should start walking. That may be the only way to Santa Fe. We would be in a better position to flag down anyone who might come along. Ben, Steve, and I had traveled very light but were the only ones. We rustled some bamboo for a sling and rescued one of the Frenchmen from his two heavy suitcases, carrying them like a captured animal. He couldn't speak English but was very appreciative.
After about a mile we came across another little village. There was an immediate break to buy beer and rest. It was found that there was an old jeep truck in the area. After 30 minutes of negotiating and drinking, Robert prevailed upon the driver to take us to a town this side of Santa Fe called Looc for 150 pesos. That was only slightly less than the original jeepney. Once the deal was settled there was a scramble through the surrounding huts by natives which produced several gallon bottles of gasoline and water for the radiator. We all pushed to get it running and then piled in the back.
The drive to Looc was spectacular. It was beautiful and clean. The small ribbon of road meandered through valleys and hills of rice terraces, palm trees, and grass huts. Occasionally the ocean with a sand or rock beach would come into view.
On the way we overtook a funeral procession. The community was walking behind a small wooden casket which was pushed along on a cart made from bicycle wheels. The mourners were wearing regular dress of shorts, T-shirts and thongs. From somewhere in the crowd came the sound of screechy holy music being played on a loudspeaker. As we passed, we were all very quiet. Once passed however, the somber mood of the funeral procession was replaced by boisterous laughter, waves, and pointing gestures at the silly foreigners. We must have been quite a sight.
Once into Looc, our troubles were not over. We found that, as at the airport, there was only one vessel for transportation and that was only obtainable at an inflated price. Robert left (while the others drank) and returned to say that he had found a boat on the other side of the harbor cheaper. He kept talking in French to his fellow citizens and the Canadian. Bob the Brit's wife could understand them and ascertained that he was trying to bluff. We were concerned because it was getting late afternoon and finally got everyone to agree that it was time to go.
The boat barely fit the ten of us, our luggage, the captain, his three assistants, and a family of four from a neighboring island. It was about three feet wide and about 30 feet long with bamboo outriggers on each side. What powered this load? A five-horse Briggs and Stratton engine.
Once underway, it was difficult to determine movement. We could see an island in the distance and the captain pointed in that direction. As we neared the island we hit sand about 300 yards out so Ben and I got out and pushed thinking the crew might take the hint that we wanted to hurry. No luck. It was not even our island! We helped the family off the boat and carried their kids and stuff to shore and then pushed back out again.
The waves began to get higher and the captain had to navigate each one to keep us from filling with water. I continued to pray as I had done from the start of the voyage. I was of the same opinion as my mother that preventative prayer produces much better results than last minute pleas for help. I thought of the stories that the Asian Branch members had told of being adrift in boats for days. Three small boats with sails appeared and headed towards us and I remembered more of their stories of sea pirates who had robbed them. We were perfect targets. Foreigners with cameras, money, and passports and we were miles and days from any communication. At about this time the motor quit and there were about five minutes of panic and high anxiety. The captain climbed down inside and bailed out water. After several cranks the motor finally sputtered and stayed running.
Things started to look up. The sail boats passed us by. The waves died down and soon we were close enough to an island that we could probably float and swim if we had to. And then it began to happen; one of the most magnificent sunsets that I have ever seen. The island to the east, spotlighted with last rays of the sun, was illuminated with hundreds of shades of green from the vegetation along the beaches. Around the hills, rock cliffs were visible and tiny white clouds hung near the tops. Far off to the east in the distance where huge billowy clouds that ascended up for miles in every hue of yellow, orange, red, and white. To the west were patches of azure sky and clouds with blazing gold linings. As the sun settled beyond the horizon the clouds turned dark gray with rays of deep red streaming through. It looked as though some distant high volcano had erupted and rivulets of lava were flowing down and into the sea.
Just after dark we arrived at the island and could see lanterns were burning along the beach. This was the only source of light as there was no electricity. We found Summer Place and Mrs. Yap. We were concerned about our accommodations but she assured us that they were being prepared and invited us to eat. I asked about signing in or paying for the meal or checking reservations or doing something formal. She reassured me that this was not a place to worry about those things. We would get a bill sometime before we left the island. The prices were posted and were not very high so we began to take her word for it. We dined on beef, vegetables and rice and retired for the night.
"The island is almost a dream. Our accommodations are a large nepa hut on stilts. The floors and walls are made of bamboo, and the roof is of coconut leaves. We have a little room which has a shower and a toilet and there is a lantern which hangs from the ceiling. On the front porch is a bamboo table and chairs and a hammock in which I am sitting at this very moment. The island has miles of deserted, white sand beaches. The ocean is calm and the water completely clear. The natives are very friendly. We stop for a pop or a snack at the little restaurant and they all know us. What ever meals, drinks or fruit we get are just added to the bill. Kids come by and talk. Some have the chore of keeping the water tank filled. There is a large tank on a bamboo scaffold which supplies water to our showers and heads. Every few hours somebody climbs the scaffold and hand cranks till the tank is full."
Sunday we read scriptures for a while and then I went for a walk along the ocean. I sat among some of the large rocks on the beach which were embedded in the sand and watched crabs. There were little white ones that blended with the white sand and green ones that matched the rocks. It was all so beautiful and I kept thinking how nice it would be if all of the family were here together.
One afternoon a large white yacht, which looked as if it had been a converted freighter or ferry of some kind, anchored in the bay. They had a speedboat and some jetskiis and just spent a few days on and around the island. What a great way to travel.
Monday was adventure day. We loaded up on sunscreen and entered the coconut groves in search of an overland path to the other side of the island. Higher up, we came across farmland with red dirt and sickly looking crops. There were banana trees, goats, pigs and some nepa huts that were not in near as nice a shape as ours. We found a "one-bottom plow" which was pulled behind a water carabao and hitched Ben to it.
We found another deserted beach on the eastern side of the island. We walked along the beach till we came to cliffs that required we turn back overland. We came across a small village of three or four houses. One of them had a one room store from which a small boy sold us a warm drink of pop. On the north beach we found a cave near the water level. It had a three foot hole for an entrance and then opened up into a large room with light streaming through a hole in the roof. The floor was covered with cool sand and we buried each other for sunburn treatment. Steve had gone back to full dress to block the rays.
We played in the waves with some of the kids and then worked our way on around the island, skirting rocks and climbing cliffs. Just as we got to the point where it seemed it would be too difficult to turn back, we ran into a bunch of those shameless Europeans. They must have had to struggle through heavy brush to get there because most of their swim suits were ripped completely off. We just walked nonchalantly through their party and on to the next group of cliffs at the end of the beach.
Not wanting to turn back, we started swimming out around the cliffs. We thought that our own beach would be just around the next group of rocks but we ended up swimming for quite a ways. It wouldn't have been so hard if we hadn't had my little camera and had to swim with one hand holding it out of the water to keep it from getting wet. Ben was the master swimmer and kept it dry. A group of Filipino fishermen paddled by and laughed at the funny foreigners.
Another group of cliffs and we decided to go inland, scaling the cliffs. For a moment the sky darkened and we looked up to see clouds of giant bats, screeching as they circled and flew to a higher part of the island. Exhausted we made it back to the restaurant and dined on deep-fried pineapple pancakes and vegetable omelets.
I started to get a heat rash on my feet which felt like the nerve ends were open. I wasn't sure if it was some plant we had encountered, bugs that had crept into the net, or heat. The next day we spend mostly in the shade reading and I seemed to be a little better. There was a used paperback book store which had a good selection of books that people brought and then exchanged and I had been reading a copy of Wuthering Heights to give us a feel for England. For people that stayed there for several months at a time, books were the only form of commercial entertainment.
That evening, we went down to the gentle surf and laid in the water to watch the sunset. From behind in the east, looking to the west, the colors merged from blue-black with a crescent moon and diamond stars, to pale blue and turquoise, to pink, reds and oranges, with azure blue and fiery yellow of the sun right at water level. Just the colors stimulate emotions. It was so fantastically beautiful.
We had some clothing tailored by one of the locals. He had a peddle powered Singer that he worked at all day, making baggy shirts, pants, and shorts out of rice sacks. They were very comfortable and many of those on the island were wearing them. He charged $2.50 to measure and make a pair of shorts.
Wednesday we rented bicycles for the day but took them back after one hour because they we too small and the paths weren't too good. We didn't get them back without getting embarrassed though. We were riding along the beach in an area where there were several boats tied from the water to the palm trees. Steven was trying to catch up to us and piano stringed himself on one of the taught ropes. It looked as if it caught him right in the throat and he went sprawling and the bike end over end. He put on a good show for the natives who were laughing at the stupid foreigner. We just kept riding like we didn't know him.
We rented a paddle boat and snorkel equipment and paddled out beyond the rocks and cliffs. The underwater scenery matched that above. The water was completely clear and we could see the bottom in a pattern of rocks and sand. There were fish of yellows, blues, greens and some with solid patterns and stripes. There were jelly fish and star fish. Ben discovered, the hard way, an under water porcupine. It was a plant (we think) with sharp quills pointing in all directions. He stepped on one by accident and it stuck in his foot. It must have had some sort of poison on the quill because he was in pain for some time.
We floated and dove and then just swam with our faces on the surface, watching all the life under the water. It had become cloudy and even sprinkled a shower but we still got very sunburned.
We arose early, paid our bill, bid Mrs. Yap farewell and boarded another pump boat for passage to the island of Kalibo. Our leave was much less eventful than our coming. The boat ride was just a few minutes. On the other hand, the jeepney ride to the airport was spectacular. By the time we got off the boat the jeepney was already full. The driver motioned us to climb on top with the baggage and before departure we were joined by eight other people. The car creaked and groaned on every turn as we motored towards the town of Kalibo. It was a beautiful ride over hills and along the ocean, down canyons and across flat plains of rice paddies, through villages and past schools filled with children playing basketball. The fields were dotted with people working and occasionally we saw a carabao or a hand tractor.
Lots of people were drying grain by laying it out on the roadside over canvas. We saw a couple of what appeared to be portable rice huskers (stripped jeepney frames with some sort of milling equipment attached).
The driver reminded me of a middle eastern terrorist. He was larger than the average native and in spite of the humid heat wore a stocking cap that covered his head and face. He drove like a maniac with the horn honking frequently. Twice we had to stop for checkpoints. The driver knew they were coming up so a couple of miles out, he stopped and everyone on top was injected inside until we were past the officials.
When we arrived in Kalibo we were stampeded by tricycles (motorcycles with covered sidecars). We probably had plenty of time to spend in town but were so put upon by the mob that we took the lowest price which turned out to be the average price and ended up at the airport two hours early. This strip was similar to the one in Tablas but had double the air traffic at two flights per day.
Returning to Manila was almost like going home. It was the first time we had returned to familiar territory since we left. Cash was short so we stayed again at the hostel. This time we were not so fortunate to get the upstairs suite and had to stay on the ground floor with the cockroaches. There were two twin beds with sagging mattresses. Steve was going to sleep on the floor but ten minutes and twenty insect sightings convinced him to convince us to move the beds together and sleep three across.
Before turning in we jeepneyed down to the Santa Cruz market and on the way back spotted a huge fire. It looked like it was two to three blocks away but as we ventured closer found that it was about fifteen blocks away. We got close enough to see the flames which were 40-50 feet in the air. People were streaming out of the area with all their personal belongings on their backs and heads. Occasionally trucks carrying beds and furniture emerged but the streets were gridlocked with people. We tried to approach to see if there was anyone we could help but as we neared we noticed a gas station near the flames. If the station would have gone up, the mob that would have resulted would have been disastrous. We decided to vacate and hoofed it back to the hostel. Sirens continued throughout the night.
Our flight left in the afternoon so we wandered the tourist markets looking at all of the interesting things to buy; carvings, seashell pieces, fabrics, wicker furniture, and native handicrafts. It would have been nice to send something home but the shipping costs were prohibitive.
At the airport we learned another lesson on the etiquette of air transport: always call ahead to confirm your flight. Our flight to Hong Kong was at the beginning of the Chinese New Year. All airlines were totally booked and had been for weeks. Because we had not called and confirmed our seats in the last 48 hours they had been canceled. I explained to the attendant that we had all of our flights confirmed in advance and she said that she would put us on standby with first priority. Luckily we made it. The airport departure tax was unreasonably high (near $20 per person). Another American college student from Ohio approached us and embarrassed asked us for enough to cover part of his. We gave it and wished him luck. The flight was our first on Cathay Pacific. New plane, clean airline and good food.
HONG KONG
"Exchange rate is $7.8 HK to $1 US. After Manila this place looks antiseptic and feels much cooler. It is crowded but clean and orderly with billions of shops. There are thousands of high rises, taxis, and double decker buses. The city is divided into two main areas, the peninsula (Kowloon) and the island (Hong Kong) with fishing boats, junks, cargo ships and ocean liners sandwiched in the bay between."
With a little 'luck' we found a place to stay. It was a guest house referral from someone at the hostel in Manila. Somewhere between two main streets on the peninsula is a fruit stand about 10' wide and 12' deep. At the back of the shop a couple of stairs start up and then disappear to the left. Up the dark cement stairwell we trudged with our full packs. The only light was from the neon on the street which shown through holes in the patterned cinder brick. Three times we circled upward only to find locked bars which protected doors at each level. On the fifth floor we found the small plastic sign which said "LUCKY'S GUEST HOUSE". Guest room would have been a much more accurate description. Immediately behind the door was a small desk which just about filled the entire dingy little entryway. Luckily there were three spots left and we took them (much to the dismay of some who had followed us up the stairs). To our immediate right was a room which had 8 cots packed as tightly as possible. My first thought was this was some sort of detention facility. Unkempt foreigners were sitting around talking and sorting through rucksacks and packs. There were only two spots in the room and the other was upstairs on the roof. Steve drew the lot to go up solo for the first night and then join us the next night. Bad as it may sound, it had the essentials (hot water, a bed and a roof) and that is all we cared about.
The fellow at the desk (who looked like a geriatric hippie) gave us directions to the nearest laundry. The contrast from the PI was delightful. Imagine going from washing our own in a bucket to pushing 8 lbs of soiled clothes through a window and picking it up a few hours later clean, neatly folded and packaged in plastic all for only $12 HK. It was so much fun we had to try it again before we left. We thought it would be a great business to do in the states. We would call it BFR Laundry (Bureau of Feminine Rectitude).
Our next step was to quench a Big Mac attack at McDonalds and then cruise the streets looking at the wares of the world which are for sale in this trading empire. Thousands of tiny shops with attractive displays sold watches, electronics, cameras, music tapes, clothes, jewelry, carvings, silks, and handiwork from every country in the world. I am amazed at the complexities of the city. Most of the high-rise buildings look residential - where does everyone work? Where does water and power come from for this tiny independent nation? What kind of networks are necessary to keep food flowing to the city? What happens to all the garbage that is generated? I also noted the contrasts in standards of living. On one hand there were flats which appeared to be crowded with families with laundry hanging about. Buses and ferries were crowded and masses of people were walking everywhere. On the other hand there were many Rolls Royces and Chinese type fortress homes perched on the hillsides. We spent evenings walking the crowded street markets on Temple Street and looking at the wares which were mostly shoddy. We wandered through the huge malls on the island which rivaled anything I had ever seen in America for luxury. Imported rugs, furniture, antique vases, silks, and perfumes. I was fascinated by the construction of the new Shang Hai Bank Building. It is to be the most expensive building in the world at a cost of $1 billion US.
One of our first priorities was to phone home and let them know that we were alive. I was quite apprehensive wondering if all would be well at home. What if someone had been very ill or even had died? We had been out of touch and were a week overdue in calling. If something had happened I would have felt responsible. Fortunately all was well. Most of the five minutes was spent in bill talk. To place an international call we had to go to the ferry building and wait for a phone. The operator placed the call and after twenty minutes or so he signaled us to a booth where the call had been connected.
The good news was that my GMAT scores had returned and I had not bombed as I had feared. The news was a great feeling. The test had been very difficult and I had not felt that I had done as well on it as I had on the practice exams. On the practice exams I was barely reaching the lowest score necessary to get into BYU. The real exam had been much more difficult I felt but with the scores in I was well above the average. I considered it a gift and a sign that I should go on to graduate school. With that worry out of the road, my future plans after returning home could take better shape and I could relax knowing more what I was going to do.
Over the next few days we just explored and answered some of our questions. Water and power came from mainland China. There was much more to Hong Kong than the city. Outlying areas with territories and islands provided more land area than I had originally imagined. Lots of things happened at night like stocking stores and cleaning garbage. We tried all sorts of transportation; taxies, double decker buses and trolleys, ferries, and the new subway system. The subway was just like BART in San Francisco. We explored the island and took the tram to the top and walked around the park. We still were amazed at the number of high rise buildings which crowded up from down below. We walked the waterfronts and looked at ships which ranged in size and age from little wooden junks to the QE2 ocean liner which was in port.
Our search for native food led us to try one of the tables in a back street market. There were no other foreigners there but the locals were eating heartily so we talked Steve into experimenting. At the center of each table was a cooker with hot charcoal. We each selected a large plate which was heaped over with lettuce, beef, fish, shrimp, noodles and eggs. Once we were seated the waiter brought us each a bowel and a steaming pot of broth which he placed on the cooker. The idea of the game was to use chop sticks to place food from the plate to the broth where it simmered till done. The key word was simmer. We decided that we could be assured things were cooking and if they were cooked, there shouldn't be resulting stomach problems. We weren't disappointed.
We caught a couple of movies while in Hong Kong. I was sure after seeing them that they both had been severely edited for Chinese audiences. One was Passage to India which I was sure had no plot. The other was Dune which Ben tried to explain to me as I had not read the book. We also decided that if we were to spend time in shoppers paradise we should at least buy something. We increased our camera power by Ben and I buying new Canons with zoom lenses. Ben bought his first and suffered all day with buyers remorse. I thought it was such a nice unit that I bought one also so we could spend the rest of the trip taking duplicate pictures.
Sunday we donned our best attire (slacks, shirts and sweaters) and headed for church. There was an English speaking ward on the island side which met in an old but elegant building. Keith Coombs from Thatcher and his family were there but he slipped out to Manila before we could talk to him. We met a couple, Steve and Chris Hendrix, who had traveled from London to Nepal on their honeymoon. They were excited about our travels and invited us to dinner and told us all of the places to see in India and Nepal. They lived in a nice townhouse overlooking Repulse Bay which cost $5000 per month. Steve worked for Otis Elevator as part of their joint venture in China. After dinner they drove us around the island and then dropped us off at the Golden Dragon Computer Center.
It was a two story building, a full block large which was just crammed with tiny computer shops. Any kind of software or hardware was available. Much of it was what in the US would be termed 'pirate'. There were IBM clones for fractions of US prices, all kinds of software and hundreds of games. We picked up cards from some shop owners who assured us to contact them with orders and Visa numbers and what ever we wanted could be shipped without problem.
Back at Lucky's we found that another female had been added to our room. I had awoke the second morning to see that one of the beds which was vacant the night before now contained a British girl. No BFR needed here.
Steve had sent film to be developed and it wasn't finished so we decided to delay our departure a day. We discovered that we could alter our flight times without added cost but not our route. We had a summit meeting to plan the rest of the trip. We had polled Church members on Singapore and they all said that it was just another city and there were much more interesting places to see. Steve Hendrix said Nepal was a must and so was Bernaris in India. Steve Clegg said that he had decided that he was not going to go the entire trip but that he wanted to see Israel. This put a limit on the time that could spend in Thailand and India and I was a little upset that it was only now that he realized he didn't have the time.
The morning that we were to leave for Thailand, I awoke and looked down to see Steve already showered, packed and sitting on his cot, reading and ready to go. It was odd as we usually had to blast him out of bed. Upon questioning he volunteered that he had rolled over just as it was getting light to see a large rat crawling on top of the sleeping bag of the fellow who was sleeping in the bed next to him. The rat had sat down, raised up its head and looked at Steve for a while and then crawled down off the bed, taking sleep with it.
The bus ride to the airport took us past a lot of crowded factories and industrial facilities that we hadn't seen. There sure are a lot of people compressed into a limited area! School grounds were tiny patches of concrete wedged between towering apartment buildings.
The airport was a breeze. We had called ahead to confirm our flights this time. We got there just in time to board without delay and without apprehension as we went through passport control. We were becoming true international travelers.
RETURN TO BANGKOK
Approximately nine years earlier, I had sat in the window seat of a 747 watching the rice paddies and checkerboard of fields and roads fade and disappear below as we climbed into the clouds. My thoughts and feelings were mixed as I wondered if I would ever see again the land and people that I had grown to love as a missionary. The landscape had been green and vibrant then as it was near the end of the monsoon season. As we descended through the clouds and the patterns of dirt dikes, foot paths and roads appeared, I thought back on that moment. The land was brown and yellow now as it was well into the dry season, but I had a feeling of excitement and the thrill of returning.
I had some time to ponder and try to pick out landmarks as we circled in the air above Bangkok for 30 minutes. The captain said that some local dignitary was taking off and our landing was delayed. It turned out to be the queen who was leaving for a tour of the United States to promote Thai products. The airport was much as I had remembered it. The lines at passport control were long and the heat and humidity were high.
Taxi rides into Bangkok were also high. The exchange rate was 28 baht to the dollar and taxi drivers were not at all abashed to ask 150 for the drive. As a missionary, 75 was outrageous. I noticed immediately that even though there were as many taxi drivers as in Manila they were much more polite. No mobs. We opted for the bus into town which cost about three baht.
Our friends in Manila had directed us to a section of town near the river and the temples which also had several guest houses. We found one called Marco Polo in a tiny ally off the main street. This one was clean but had about 40 people staying in a house the size of ours at home. The owners and girls that took care of the place were very friendly. Someone speaking Thai really caused some commotion. They were so excited and gave us a good room. These hostels are really something quite different. There were several rooms which were just large enough for beds down stairs and upstairs. Downstairs there were a couple of bathrooms with showers and a room off the entryway which had several tables and a TV. Every night there was a movie. Upstairs there was a large dormitory room with several beds. We opted for a private room for three at the cost of 60 baht per night.
Our immediate task was to start on the problem of getting Somlai's brother out of the refugee camps. I went to the phone and began making calls to the US embassy and the volunteer group which was responsible for making assessments about refugee cases. No sooner had I got off the phone when our first adventure began. Steve was sitting there waiting and watching TV in Thai and this attractive, college age girl sat down next to him, lit a cigarette and began to tell him her problem.
Her name was Angela and she was here from Switzerland with her boyfriend Guedo. She was very upset and needed help but didn't know where to turn. I guess my speaking Thai led her to believe I might have some influence with the local authorities.
Poor Guedo it seems, had fallen in with the wrong crowd. He was being held somewhere where they were giving him drugs and sex while taking his money. She had been to get him but had been threatened that she would be hurt. Tomorrow was their flight back to Athens and although she had his ticket, she didn't have her Guedo.
I was apprehensive but she was persuasive with her Swiss accented English and soon we were on a bus heading for another section of Bangkok. I reasoned that Bangkok is so crowded and the people so friendly that we wouldn't have any problem finding help or the police if anything happened. We also didn't feel intimidated by the Thai's due to the fact that we were all larger than anyone and three of us posed a fairly formidable resistance.
The bus ride through Bangkok brought back many memories. We changed buses at the Central Train Station. The smell of the street vendors with their spicy foods and barbecues teased our appetites.
After another 20 minutes on the bus we got off and climbed on a soi truck. These trucks are shuttles that branch off the main streets and are usually Toyotas or Datsuns which have covers over the back and a couple of benches and hand rails. As the truck began to wind its way back off the main street, anxiety began to heighten. It was not a populated area and no sign of police anywhere. At the very end of the soi were a couple of 8-10 story apartment buildings that looked as if they had been built as part of a government housing project. The type of people hanging out reminded me of the crowd we had run into when cleaning the sewage out of Klong Duey for a service project. It was the most drug infested area of Bangkok.
Angela's being nervous didn't help either. She went to a room on the sixth floor of one building where they had stayed together the first night that they were there but it was empty. We followed her to a room on another floor which was sort of the office. To our surprise the place wasn't run by the gentle Thai but by a bunch of young, burley Germans. They weren't very friendly but we stood there flanking Angela until they told her were Guedo was. He was in the next building towards the top. The elevators didn't work and we were still getting used to the heat and humidity. We found the room unlocked and she charged right in. Guedo was laying in a darkened room with only a Thai loin cloth wrapped around him. He was stoned out of his mind, pupils dilated and eyes yellow, and resisted going with us saying that he was just about to make love. Angela went first for his passport and travelers checks which Steve strapped to his waist and concealed under his shirt. She next packed his bags and got him dressed. Down at the parking lot he insisted he had to go back to the office and say goodbye and pay his bill. Ben and I stayed with the belongings and waited to flag a soi truck. Steve went with them to the office. They were gone for the longest time and Steve came back saying that he was reluctant to go but he had told him that he had five minutes to leave and if he didn't we would leave with his things. We waited longer and I was just heading up to tell him we were leaving when he appeared at the entrance. He was still upset at Angela saying bringing us wasn't necessary and that he was disappointed at what he was missing.
At the end of the soi she assured us that she could get him back now so we gave her his things and parted. We saw them later that night sitting in a cafe and he still looked hammered and not to happy to see us. She came over to us and thanked us again. Next morning we saw them again. He looked much better as if whatever it was had worn off and cast us a brief look of thanks.
Phone calls out of the way and the prince rescued it was time to eat. Our first meal was a plate of fried rice. Steve and Ben loved it. The rice is cooked with meat, eggs, seasonings, and mixed with a sauce, then served with sliced cucumbers, green onions, and salted with anchovies extract. All that (a filling meal) for 8-10 baht. We relaxed on the way back taking in a few of the street markets and watching the rhythmic ritual of the bus krabow. The ticket takers on the buses are called krabows. They all have a cylindrical can which opens from the side with a hinged lid. Inside are compartments for money and rolls of tickets. The krabow shakes the can, jangling the money and clacking the lid, while he or she chants the price, counts money and asks for pardon while moving through the crowded bus. In less than three seconds they can take your money, roll off the tickets and tear them, rip them lengthwise to show they have been used and hand them back with your change.
Bangkok had changed in nine years. It seemed more crowded and air pollution was higher but the streets were cleaner. Many new buildings had gone up. Many of the streets which were two-way then were now one way to accommodate the increased traffic. The few canals that remain were polluted and stagnant still. The Chowpaya River which runs right through the middle of the city was still crowded with the long narrow boats which transport produce. The temples at had all been cleaned and the gold was shining.
One of the first stops was to the mission home. It still looked the same but nine years older. I noticed that the piece of tile I had broken on the carport was still not fixed. In the mission office I found President Hogan and visited with him for a few minutes about the refugees. He was sort of cold at first but warmed up after a while. I think it may have been my beard. I had been growing it since the Philippines and with my rice sack pants I did not at all look like missionary or anyone respectable for that matter. He said that the camps had been closed to foreigners unless permission was granted by the Thai Military. Some members had just gone there and were able to get in but he didn't think we could count on being able to do this. After a few minutes of visiting he wished us luck and wondered how so many were affording to take these trips around the world.
The feeling at returning to Asoke was sort of like Steve's in Korea. It was nice to go back but there seemed to be a melancholy hanging over the place. When I had been there, there was hope and excitement. New buildings, new tracts, growth and expansion. Now many of the areas had been closed that were opened while I was there. Tracting was not permitted. There had only been 800 new members in eight years. Visa problems were still apparent.
Back near the Marco Polo Guest house, we decided to try one of the joys I remembered as a missionary, a thai haircut. Haircuts were always anticipated for several reasons. The main reason was that they were usually in air conditioned comfort. In addition the haircut included a shave, and neck massage, and usually some contemporary music. With a little extra time, Ben and I decided to have one.
When we entered the shop, all of the barbers were in the back room. Apparently, it was the boxing championship between Thailand and Korea. They were intensely watching and invited us to cheer with them. We noticed that most of them were drunk and that they were getting more so by the minute. After watching the fight we didn't know how to graciously leave and escape the drunk barbers and soon found ourselves in the chair. They were the worst haircuts ever. Way too short and he shaved my beard with a dry razor!
Our first thiaw (Thai for trip) was to Ayudthaya. It is a smaller town but was one of the early capitals of Siam. There were many ruins and old temples. We took the train from Central Station and arrived there in time to get a nice room in a hotel. We spent a day looking at ruins and taking pictures. We asked around as we talked and walked if anyone knew where the elders lived. No one had seen any farangs (foreigners) with white shirts and ties riding bicycles. We even walked around the area where I remembered the elders had lived and the branch met. Nothing. As a last resort we decided to visit the market at about 9:30 to see if the elders came in for a fruit drink before turning in as we used to do. No sign. We decided to buy a watermelon and bartered in the market for one before walking back to the hotel.
As we were walking along the street a motor scooter with three ladies pulled up beside us. One got off and asked in Thai if we were missionaries. I started to explain that I used to be and she interrupted asking, "Are you Elder Clegg?". I was stunned to silence at being recognized. She said, "Don't you remember me, I am Sister Joy." It took a while for it to come back. She had been a district missionary when Elder Slater and I were Zone Leaders and we had worked with them a couple of times. She had been a good missionary. I queried as to how the branch was doing and where the elders lived and was disappointed to find that the elders had been pulled out about five years ago. The members had all become inactive or moved. She had married a Buddhist and now pretty much did what he wanted. She called at the hotel the next morning and invited us to come visit them but we had already bought tickets to go to Lopburi. She said that they might come to church there and we could see them then.
"Yesterday was a day which showed us that we were indeed being watched over. After touring more of the ruins, we caught a truck for the Summer Palace. It was about an hour away and we were going to catch a train from there north to Lopburi."
The Summer Palace is quite famous and was built in the 1800's and has more of a European influence. Part of the complex includes a gold temple that sits on the water. We looked at vases and carved panels and wandered the grounds looking at bushes sculptured into elephants.
About this time, Steve remembered that he had left his pouch which contained his passport, money and ticket under the mattress at the hotel. We raced back to Ayudthaya and found it in the same place with nothing gone. Lucky.
We caught the train to Lopburi hoping to avoid a fellow that said he would meet us and take us to a hotel. He was a doctor that we had met on the other train and said he was interested in the Church but for some reason, I doubted his integrity. He was there at the train station though, and took us to the worst hotel. It had green, purple and orange lights in the room with a big round bed and mirrors everywhere. During the night, someone kept pounding on the door and asking if we wanted girls. I finally really yelled at them and told them no.
Church growth at Lopburi was definitely different than it had been at Ayudthaya. When I was in Lopburi there were no members for the first 5 months. We baptized the first member, Sister Luksana. Now there was a native branch president and about twenty members in attendance at a building that the church was renting regularly. There had been about 80 members baptized since I had been there. They asked if I would bear my testimony and I did telling them how we had baptized the first member. After the meeting, almost all there told of how Sister Luksana had been instrumental in their baptisms. She had since married an American and moved to Utah.
Some of the members invited us for food and also helped us find a new hotel that was much better. We visited the Elders on P-day and found Somkit still there. She had been our maid when we were there and was still working for the Elders. Missionary work seemed much different now. They were not allowed to tract or hold street meetings. Those were mainly the only things that we did to proselyte.
It was fun to walk the soi to the old house and visit with Somkit. He daughter was a teenager now and Somkit seemed resolved to life as a maid. One of the sisters from the branch came by to see if she could be of assistance. They all thought that it was wonderful that Luksana could go to the States and marry an American but I wondered.
We went out to Muang Mai (the New Circle). I wanted to see if Suwat, our first real investigator, was still teaching. He had been committed for baptism