Beijing in Spring Festival

During Spring Festival Beijing is laid back and festive. Most people which have their families not in Beijing, travel back to their home towns. Logistically the best thing to do during these days is to stay where you are. All others who also stay enjoy a week holiday and there are many things you can do in this city. Not just the cultural repertoire is huge, but also you can just get onto a lake ice skating, do a hike in the mountains along the spectacular parts of the Great Wall which are less "developed" or even drive up to a ski resort. Hiking, I was surprised that there are now also many Chinese going outdoors and enjoying the scenery. A few years ago, they did not go too much into the countryside. Now there are many "Donkey Friend Clubs", which are mainly self organized groups walking together far distances. For a first orientation, I found that the Beijing Hikers are organizing nice groups. There are a lot of foreigners in these groups, but they are not the typical Expats, but nice people which have been living long time abroad and many of them speak Chinese. I guess, that foreigners strolling around the Chinese countryside with a rucksack, already implies some self selection.

Of course, I would not be in China, if not everywhere small little businesses open to cater into all kinds of holiday demands. From the man with the mobile sweet patato bakery who is counting his money on the frozen lake where he sells his snacks to the ice skaters (see photo on the left), to extra capacities in taking family portraits in the China Photo Studio. Not to mention the huts selling the fireworks which turn the nights in Beijing into a self (un-)organized light show which is unmatched anywhere. I was wondering how safe it is when the firework's salesman is smoking sitting on a few tons of gunpowder. But you think it is "cool" just to smoke in a non-smoking area in Hong Kong and chase away the little policeman? That's nothing against sitting smoking on a pile of gunpowder chatting with the policeman on how the family is doing. Happy new year, health luck and prosperity for the Year of the Dragon.

In Memoriam Kodak

Today I had to submit my social security registration to Chinese authorities and was asked for a photo of a size that I did not have available. So I dropped by a Kodak shop. Done. As Kodak just filed bankruptcy, this might be one of the last memories, I might have of this formerly grand company. I was brought up on Kodak Ektachrome and always when my pocket money allowed me to buy one instead of Agfa, I did so. Better to take a photo less, but then it has to be perfect. I spent years in the darkroom and the first time I switched from Ilford paper and chemicals to a color process, it was Kodak too. Most of my old family pictures are Kodak prints and films also. The company is really an amazing case of a "Fallen Angel". They even invented the digital camera, and then did not develop it further and capitalized on it. Even the 50 Mega Pixel Sensor in the low range Hasselblad (which is still high above my range) is made by Kodak. Hard to understand for me why all Kodak digital cameras I have seen are so bad. Of course, I know that in big companies people can stand on each other's feet. But they really must know better. And sure, there can be also really bad strategic decisions. So often the "old guys" sleep on their brilliance and fall into the hands of "new guys" who only claim to know how the future looks like and do complete nonsense. Did this also happen to Kodak? After Voigtlaender, Borgwart, Hanomag, Zuendapp and Much another one of my favorite companies disappeared. On the other hand there is for example Leica more vivid than ever. But all I know about the Business Case Kodak is just speculation. It is just such a shame.  

Still more crafts than arts

I am really enjoying being in Beijing and slowly I am also figuring out the cultural life, which is not easy because valuable things are hidden. If they were hiding in a geographical corner, I would have no problem to find them. But they are hidden behind an enormous language barrier. Not that it would be too complicated to learn every day Chinese. But this is not helping at all when you for example go to a drama play. Of course language is essential for culture, like everywhere, and it is the main barrier to participate in it.

Because of this handicap I am looking at fine arts and Chinese painting first. But I have to say that the traditional pieces are not very impressive any more and the new ones are not impressing me yet. Of course the connoisseur will say I am ignorant, but in terms of traditional paintings I quickly had enough of bamboo, karst landscapes, cherry blossom, fish, horse and intellectuals hanging out in a countryside pavilion. Not that they are not well painted. But why do they have to paint the same things hundreds of thousands of times? Modern painters seem mostly to cash out on being pseudo critical on the Cultural Revolution time. Always just so much that they do not get into real trouble, but enough to ask for a price premium. Some of them make it even as "professional pseudo-dissidents" into the charts of Western museums, like Ai Weiwei. Most people even have forgotten how bad his artwork actually is, but only remember him as an "intellectual rebel" instead of somebody who was prosecuted for omitting enormous tax payments. Well, sure as an intellectual he does not know what his accountant does. Come on Weiwei! Sounds to me like virgins giving birth to the son of god etc. Who believes such a story? 

I also looked at photography. But most new things I see are not better than the Ikea Posters we had hanging in the the common kitchen of the student's dormitory in the 80s. Just that they did not have Photoshop back then. I was wondering why in Photography competitions Chinese photographers mostly excell in fashion and commercial photography. And the answer seems that the lack of talent is so severe that any potential artist is quickly absorbed into a career which is more that of a graphic designer. Reminds me of two or three years ago, I was pointed by a friend to a picture in the Ooi Botos Gallery in Hong Kong, because it was showing a black Audi A6, which was easy to be seen as a government fleet car beyond a mass of puppets lying on the floor. Not that I would be interested, but I was told Audi might be (which it wasn't). The photographer, Chenman, is now a celebrated fashion photographer - no more, no less. The old master's kept paining ever the same bamboo over and over again, and today's photographers mass produce the ever same fashion shots. 

However, if there is one place in China, where talent is concentrating, then it is Beijing. And as competition is slowly picking up, I expect that the next wave has to be better.

South Georgia Heritage Trust

On the trip to Antarctica I came the first time in touch with the South Georgia Islands. Even we did not visit them, I gained a much better understanding of polar and sub-polar ecosystems and the interest is even growing since back. One of the most interesting projects I heard of in this context is the rat-eradication program on South Georgia. This stands in context with the introduction of rats as a foreign species by whalers and early settlers which are disturbing the ecological balance significantly and by feeding on bird's eggs pose a fatal threat to the unique wildlife.

The solution brought forward by the South Georgia Heritage Trust is to poison the rat population by dropping baits from 2 helicopters. The plan takes advantage of the current glacier structure which did not allow the rats yet to spread over all the land. But as the glaciers are withdrawing as an effect of global warming, there is high time to kill every single rat on the island before these natural barriers leak and provide an unfrozen land connecttion for the rats to spread further.

The projects has two Bolkow-105-Helicopters in service and you might imagine the cost involved in this kind of habitat restoration. This is why the South Geogrgia Heritage Trust is grateful for any financial aids. More information and also the chance to donate online, you find on their website.

The Flowers of War by Zhang Yimou

The Flowers of War is Zhang Yimou's latest movie. It is based on the novel The thirteen Flowers of Nanjing by Yan Geling. After a few monumental productions, which I did not really enjoy, this movie was announced to be a renaissance of the artistic Zhang Yimou which would have benefited from his more recent experiences in modern productions also.

The story of this movie is set in the Nanjing of 1937 during the brutal invasion and occupation by Japanese troops. As this was definitely one of history's most savage crimes against humanity and one of the deepest traumas in China's collective memory, any story in this setting will shake emotions strongly. So does the Flowers of War. An American vagabond called John Miller (played by Christian Bale) makes it through the chaos of the battles into a fictive Catholic church. Here he ends up taking responsibility for the girls of the convent school an orphan boy and 12 prostitutes taking also shelter there. The disreputable John Miller takes on the priest robe and role towards the Japanese to protect the girls. The narrator is one of the school girls (Zhang Xinyi). In the middle of a brutal setting, unfolds a love story of the protagonist with one of the prostitutes (Ni Ni) which finds its end in them standing in for the convict girls being most violently forced to "serve" the Japanese soldiers in one of their parties while the girls can escape out of the city. If anybody needs an illustration why Iris Chang titled her book The Rape of Nanking, then after having seen this movie, it is terribly obvious.

Of course any movie set in the centre of the massacre of Nanking (now Nanjing) is shaking any audience emotions. But I found it pressing too crudely on the love and hate "buttons". For me the movie is definitely falling short against the movies City of Life and Death by Lu Chuan, Nanking by Bill Guttentag and Dan Sturmann and also against John Rabe by Florian Gallenberger. I did not have the chance yet to read Yan Geling's novel. But I am looking forward to read it when I find a good translation and compare it with the very different story in the same setting called Love in a Fallen City by Zhang Ailing.

Perhaps it is that Zhang Yimou did not develop a deeper impression against the brutal background, that it also seemed to me on first sight like an anti-Japanese propaganda movie. The movie seems playing on sentimental patriotism and daemonizing the Japanese enemy. But sure, given the historical background there is also not much on the Japanese side which would allow a balanced view. The second thought I had that perhaps it is just another successful attempt of Zhang Yimou maximizing the box office revenue of his movies. After having started as a brilliant director, The Flowers of War again follow a soap opera recipe and the movie is for that disappointing. It could make Zhang Yimou the Andrew Lloyd Webber of Chinese cinema. And I will still go and watch his movies, but just as I watch a musical. Not more, not less. Just not sure whether Chinese cinema really needs a "Hollywood".

Beijing China Photostudio Ltd.

Beside the Hans Schafgans Studio in Bonn, my favorite "Photo shop" is the Beijing China Photostudio Ltd. on 180 Wang Fu Jing. When you click on their website you will find that it does not work. When you tell them it does not work, they will not care. And why should they? Established in 1937, they have been photographing not just the leaders of China, but hundreds of thousands people and families, including myself. On the upper floor at Chinese New Year you have families putting their reunion in photographic memories. You see moving scenes of grandparents dressing up in their best suit, while babies get pacified with milk, people choosing glasses without glass (not to have the reflection). Young couples go there to take a photo together which might become a document for lifetime, they love to look back to. And then all the buzz and discussions around making finally the choices which photos to print. But the Beijing China Photo Studio is not just a "sweet place", it is also highly professional: the photographers in the upper floor themselves, the editors sitting at the computers making minor corrections and last but not least the print shop. On the ground floor the camera and equipment sales is actually run by people loving photography and knowing what they talk about. In my quest of getting a few pictures for my office, I finally decided for some of my own photos and went there to make use of the print shop. When the editor opened the files, I saw that his eyes started to sparkle. They were also some Antarctic scenes and he was looking at it interested like watching a different planet. I thought if an editor who sees thousands of photos from his professional photographers, looks twice at my photos, this is a very compliment for a crude amateur like me. So I left happily after asking to make a few large prints and then still bought on the same street a wool coat, a pullover, two maps of China and Beijing and two tea cups. 

Graceful Capital and pleasant neighbourhood

Sure, I have strolled around Beijing many times and have seen all the spots you see as a visitor. But now that I moved here, other things catch my interest. So, I put on my running shoes today and went off through Hutongs, parks, along lakes, through Universities. I saw bookstores, museums, a drama school for experimental theatre, galleries, people playing cards, and dancing in the parks. I chatted with people and found that the Beijingers have a good spirit. You can joke with them even beyond the language barrier. There are corner shops, handymen, repairshops of all kinds. Beijing is a graceful capital and a pleasant neighbourhood at the same time. Just coming back from a trip to South America, I also appreciated that it sems absolutely safe in any place. Perhaps it is also because my sportswear is so old that I look like a migrant worker myself, just a bit taller and a long nose. And I had only 50 Renminbi in my pocket, of which I spent 12 for a roadside lunch and 1.5 for a bottle of water. Who should rob me like that? When I came back, my GPS showed that I ran 32 kilometers. Good start.

Farewell to my island in the South China Sea

After a long journey via the cradle of mankind to the end of the world, I returned back to what became my home for five years: Lamma Island in the South China Sea. Coming this time from Antarctica into the subtropical paradise with sunny mild weather makes you want to stay. But now, I only came to pack and leave again. In the garden I turned back once more to the old house at the seaside. From here I have seen ships passing and rainbows showing their bright colours many times. For five years I have seen flowers blossom, butterflies returning and heared birds singing. Lamma Island is close to Hong Kong, but for me never was a part of it. Too distinct, too colorful is the culture and too different from the buzz of the city and its boring business conformity. The island though still has a free spirit, even not a deep one, which withstood all efforts of covering it under concrete and sporadic police raids. On my last walk through the village, I realized that I have never stayed in a place for five years before, and that I am leaving behind a real home this time. I am wondering how it will look like in years from now when I return as a visitor. The "veterans" here want to keep it the way it is, or even turn it back into what it was in the "good old times". And there is a lot of good to protect. But of course things will change in the periphery of a city of more than 7 million, specially when land auctions to property developers are one of the main government revenues. There is no way to keep Lamma as it is, but at least to develop it as it should be: green, free and friendly. Today, on my ferry ride from Yung Shue Wan to Hong Kong Central our house, our small beach and our tree disappeared a last time behind the hills. Then after the plane took off with the skyline of the city also my life as a Professor stayed behind. But my memories I am taking with me, as they become a part of what is ahead.

Then when I checked into the service apartment late at night, I was greeted with: "You are booked to check in tomorrow". So I looked at my watch: "Okay, wait 30 minutes, then it is tomorrow". We all laughed and finally: "No problem ... Welcome to Beijing".

Iguazu Falls

The Iguazu Falls are an interesting place to visit for all those which have been also bored by the Niagra Falls. The Iguazu ("Big Water") Falls are set in a secondary subtropical rainforest and by that itself are much more part of the natural environment. The Brazilian side is more panoramic, the Argentinian more intense. You can reach over to Devil's Throat via gangways and of course it is quite splashing to take a boat at the foot which takes you extremely close to the fall (bring a dry bag for you things). You can reach Iguazu by plane. If Aerolineas Argentina gives their standard announcement that the flight is canceled or delayed because of weather, it might in this case even be true. The clouds can be hanging really low above the rainforest here. And when I broke through, it was just a few hundred feet above it - with patches of fog dense on the forest canopy. Even in detail the vegetation is different from the Amazon, by the landing scene I was reminded of Fizzgeraldo by Werner Herzog.

Iguazu was the last stop before of my five year academic sabbatical. From here it takes 18 hours by bus (because flight canceled due to a volcano eruption) plus 15 hours plus 13 hours flights with no significant break in between. Then applying for a Chinese F-Visa (one of the very few F-Words I use), and finally hitting a bed. Then packing up and moving to Beijing. Life itself can be extreme sport already.

Drake Passage

In 1578, Sir Francis Drake was blown by Northerly gales off the Magellan Strait into open waters South of Tierra del Fuego and discovered this as a passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Today it is named after him the Drake Passage and it reaches from Cape Horn towards the Antarctic Peninsula. Passing Cape Horn has the most hazardous reputation and with the development global trading routes, it is often referred to as the "sailor's graveyard". In good weather it can be very calm - and the sailors joke calling it the "Drake Lake". What amazed me is that there is no marine weather forecast available here. The only thing you get is a fax showing the isobars and a few temperatures. The rest you have to do yourself. I remember that when I studied in 1987 in the Meteorological Institute in Cologne University, this was already used as an exercise to show us students how weather forecasts were done in the past. Our depression (this is how low pressure fields are called scientifically) system moved North and then struck us with a number 10 storm just South of Cape Horn. That's then called the "Drake Shake" and when there are icebergs you call it "Drake Shake on the Rocks".

When passing the horn, Dave who was historian on board, took the PA system to recite the English translation of Sara Vial's poem that is beside an albatross statue on the Cape to remember the sailors who died here:

I, the albatross that awaits for you at the end of the world...

I, the forgotten soul of the sailors lost that crossed Cape Horn from all the seas of the world.

But die they did not

in the fierce waves,
for today towards eternity
in my wings they soar
in the last crevice
of the Antarctic winds

Sara Vial, Cape Horn 1992

Antarctica

When I made Antarctica the examination continent of my choice in 1988, it was because I did not have to bother with people. I only got interested in people later, but back then I preferred the simplicity of a seismogram. Of course studying Antarctica for a while like this, my perception became that all people must be explorers. And as the people I met on the streets around me in Cologne were not explorers, I concluded that there is something wrong with them. Only years later, I figured out that there was actually something wrong with me. In Werner Herzog's fascinating movie "Begegnungen am Ende der Welt" (Encounters at the End of the World), he visits Antarctica exactly to find out what people are there. An idea I would not have. In an interview by Herzog with a linguist who worked in a greenhouse on the Ross Ice Shelf (a place where you may not expect a linguist to find work), he put it in the way that it is a natural consequence that people with similay wavelength mingle in Antarctica: all those who do not have a grip on the planet, slide down and meet somewhere around the South Pole.

There are two feasible ways to travel to Antarctica: one is to fly in with a military plane from New Zealand to the Ross Ice Shelf, the other is to cross the Drake Passage by ship and enter from the "North". Of course what I call "North" now is not more North than any other coastal location of the continent, because the South Pole is just about in the middle - so in any direction you move away from the Pole, you move North. But the "North" I mean, is according to the convention to point the Antarctic Map upwards into the direction of 0 Degrees. As the Ross Ice Shelf requires more time and is less disverse in terms of landscape, the entrance over the Antarctic Peninsula is the better choice this time.

We boarded the Russian research vessel Akademik Ioffe on November 8th. The ship belongs to the Shirnov Institute of Oceanography in Kaliningrad and is built for the purpose of "silent listening".  It is a 117 meters, 6600 GRT ece strengthened vessel with two diesel engines at 7000 bhp and thrusters which manoeuvring in narrow and difficult conditions. It makes a maximum of 15 knots and has a cruizing speed of 13.5 knots. Water and fuel storage define an endurance of 60 days in polar waters. The major interest of the researchers using this ship is to observe underwater wildlife together with its sister ship the Akademik Sergey Vavilov. For this it is equipped with 15 kHz and 45 kHz echo-sounders, which have enormous antennas in the mud room. Russia is very famous for having a good overview on what is moving below the surface of the oceans and wildlife is for sure very interesting.

The first landing was on Half Moon Island on November 12th and there were a few things which became instantaneously clear. First of all, this is a beautiful place, which is so amazing that no photographer, no painter and not even a poet may capture it. Secondly, this season is early spring in Antarctica and one of the earliest expeditions of this kind which is made there. This means the ice makes it not easy to find landing sites for the Zodiacs and sudden changes in weather can pack in a landing point very fast and you have to take off from another place again. The wind can pick up fast too and even the temperatures are moderate minus degrees, the wind chill can be a bit biting. Not just for people, but also for the camera, the ice landscape is an exposure nightmare. The Aperture priority setting simply did not figure out what to do with the light and I had to take all pictures in full manual and overexpose all pictures by 1 to 2 stops. Penguins are cute little guys, but that's about it. On Half Moon Island they were Chinstrap Penguins ducking down in the snow storm. Only later, when I saw an old recipie of Penguin breast with peanut butter in the British station Port Lockroy, my interest in Penguins rose again. But there were other birds, which I found fascinating. One of them is the Albatros. I am sure this is done already, but if I would have to construct planes, I would study the Albatross very carefully. It is for me a miracle of efficiency how these birds can follow the ship for days in the roughest weather conditions with no landing. And it seems so effortless.

The journey went further South passing through Orleans Strait into more protected waters. Still the surge can be freightening in a Zodiac, specially when you consider that falling into the -2 Degree Celsius salt water only leaves minutes to survive. I was told that the life vests are here called "mark vests", because you don't survive anyway, but they make it easier to find the bodies. Just going around a rock, can mean that the wind picks up so strongly that you have to suddenly withdraw. In our case around once the Akademik Ioffe left its location to pick up a Zodiac. The visibility was so low, that the ship was just gone. Now, these Zodiacs are the best boats in the world and have a 60 horsepower engine. So we were safe at all time, with radio connection to the bridge and an experienced expedition leader coordinating the move. But how must people like Shakelton and his crew have felt in their wooden nutshells? I found it still memorable to sit on a "rubber duck" in Antarctic waters, bouncing on the waves, and no ship in sight. 

A breathtaking experience was when the Captain closed the bridge and prepared the ship to enter an island. Of course a ship can not enter an island I thought. But in this case it was "Deception Island", which looks like an island, but is a collapsed caldera which can be entered by a narrow opening. Inside the caldera are the remains of a whaling station and on shore there are hot springs. I was not aware of the extend of the whaling industry and how large was actually the dependency on whale oil which was used in oil lamps. In the long Antarctic hours I wanted to read Moby Dick again, but found that I did not have it on my Kindle. For a moment I thought of using my Iridium Satellite phone as a model and to download the book. This would have been the first copy of Moby Dick which would have reached Antarctica via space. And probably it would have also been the most expensive copy, so I dismissed the idea and downloaded it when back in terrestrial network coverage.

So far all landings were on islands North the Antarctic Peninsula. Then on November 16th I set my foot the first time on the Antarctic continent. I wanted to make it a memorable moment and before stepping out of the Zodiac I thought: "A big step for me, but a small step for mankind". It took me 25 years from the University textbook to finally come out here and have a look. And this time I only landed where the old explorers actually started their journeys, nearly a century ago. Antarctica is often called the earth's last wilderness. I remember as a student I was upset that no resource exploration is allowed here under the Antarctic Treaty. This meant no jobs down here. Back then I thought: "What's so special about these dull and boring penguins?"

Today I am grateful that Antarctica's beauty and fragile ecosystem has been protected. And I hope the world's hunger for resources does not change this. Well, not sure whether I am getting more wise or just old. This time I have no more 25 years to come back.

The beginning of this journey is "The End of the World"

What calls itself the end of the world, is the beginning of a journey to the seventh continent. Ushuaia is the world's most Southern urban settlement, which has an Indian history before it was a jail for re-offenders and dangerous prisoners. Today it is a friendly and quiet little place having an existence between the port, a national park and a little airport. The main street is full of souvenir and outdoor gear shops, which are well priced because this is a tax free zone. In the port a bunch of lazy guys hang around which have the monopoly of any work done here and at the gate you have to get off and see the customs from time to time to justify that they get a salary. What is striking is that when you look at the landscape, it looks like the Swiss Alps meet the seaside. When I saw this it was absolutely clear that what ever comes South of here, must be as bizarre as landing on the moon.

Patagonia

"Il n'y a plus que la Patagonie, qui convienne a mon immense tristess ...", writes Blaise Cendrars in Prose du Transsiberien. I wanted to know more about the geography and people, which turned Bruce Chatwin from a journalist into a a fine writer. There, in his book on his journeys down in the most Southern Part of the Andes, it says: "Patagonia! ... She is a hard mistress. She casts her spell, An enchantress! She folds you in her arms and never lets go."

Patagonia is a desert of thorns, bushes, steppe, Megellanic and Valdivian forests, ice fields and glaciers - which is shared between Argentina and Chile. It is a volcanic area with Ceratous rocks and Teriarty granite, cut deep in my rivers and with long sand and gravel fields in meandering streams. El Calafate, even it is still a large settlement for Patagonian standards, already is a village community. And it is not just because of the visitors still passing by here that most clothes you can buy are outdoor gear. There is simply indoor life expect the dinner table and the bed in El Calafate. And people are so strait forward that it took me sometimes some effort to remember to be still in South America.

Patagonia is the last place on Earth, which was reached by human migration. Wherever you walk, you will go for hours. But time goes slow in Patagonia. Nothing matters, but being warm, fed and knowing directions. Like this you hike through crystal clear air and drink from crystal clear rivers. The guest house outside El Chalten, where the railheads to Mount McKinroy start, was powered by the river nerby. Drilled into my mind since childhood to switch off the light when leaving the room, here it was just a bit of clear water running a turbine alongside the house. The Patagonian Ice Field is feeding countless glaciers pushing their bright blue compressed ice masses down into the low land. They end in moraines, or break off in lakes. Many of them are still stable, luckily - despite global warming. It is like nothing from the "other world" can touch you here.

I know many people, when they think about where to retire, they think about a place with mild weather and good medical services. I am actually thinking about Patagonia. As I quoted before: "... She folds you in her arms and never lets go." This is one of the most fascinating landscapes I have seen so far. If I ever have the chance for a new sabbatical to write a book, then I might write it here.

Buenos Aires

The last time I went to Buenos Aires, I left Hannover Airport on September 13th 2001, just two days after September 11th. I remember that the wife of my young colleague and travel companion was very worried, because for days it felt that the world might go to war for a third time. After we had our first glass of wine in the airport lounge, the airport was evacuated and we had to withdraw to the parking place. There was a bomb threat and nobody knew where the potential bomb might be. I thought going to a public parking lot when there is a bomb threat is not the best option and we made it back into the lounge and had a second glass of wine. There was no bomb. Then we flew off to Argentina, while the US airspace was blocked for any aviation.

I remember that we went for dinner and paid quite a price for a steak. I wondered that if this is expensive for us, then how do the Argentineans pay for their steak? Weeks later they rose up. There were street riots, looting of shops and people died in street fights. Then Argentina un-pegged the Peso from the US$ while I was sitting in a tango bar in Buenos Aires. The currency literally collapsed and the country declared default on their debts.

Now, more than 10 years later I returned to Buenos Aires as a stop over to Patagonia. It is one of my favorite cities. The artistic and creative output is ranked as one of the word's highest. Who ever knows how to do such rankings? 

Acute Inka Fatigue

This article is still work in progress ... Thank you for your patience.

Zanzibar

In the book of the thousand nights and a night, also known as Arabian Nights, it says: "In my times no honest Hindu Muslim would take his woman-folk to Zanzibar on account of huge attractions and enormous temptations there and thereby are offered to them". Zanzibar is located between Mafia Island and Penbu and is a place which could not be more divers and exotic. The old stone city still shows the mix of Omanian, and Portuguese architecture and African elements. And so do the people. Zanzibar is a bright and colorful place, part of Tanzania, but still very distinct. This was the place where the early Africa explorers equipped their expeditions. One of them was for example Dr. Livingstone. Everything was traded here: spices, ivory, silk and the slave market reminds still today of one of the darkest chapters of mankind.

Zanzibar had a relatively peaceful past and was the place were the "shortest war in history" took place on 27th of August 1896. The immediate cause was, that when the pro-British Sultan Hamad bin Thuwaini died his immediate successor Sultan Khalid bin Barghash, failed to obtain the permission of British consul. After the ultimatum passed at 9 am in the morning. Then it took the British Navy 38 minutes to shell the palace into rubble, defeat the entire Zanzibar army and restore a more favourable Sultanate.

Zanzibar is for me a place where it is easy to get stuck in a positive way. And many people actually did, came for a vacation and then stayed and settled. Even it is still a long way to go, I have put Zanzibar on my list of places to consider when I retire one day - if I ever do.

East Africa

It occurred to me later after arrival here, that this travel will lead me from the Cradle of Mankind around the Oldovai Gorge, to the last locations where where men put their feet. It could have been interesting to follow just this line of thought and put the whole journey into one blog article. But it would neglect too many other impressions. Another remark to make here, is that my photos do not capture the full beauty of wildlife this time. The reason is that I later in this journey lost, beside other things, my primary Camera in an armed robbery in Peru and that I did not backup the pictures. But I stayed alive and so did my memories.

The first time I saw Mount Kilimanjaro was from Arusha National Park over Lake Manjara with thousands of flamingos in the water and flying by. This is paradise. Instantainously all the old childhood stories come back, like Hemingway's Snows on Kilimanjaro. But at that time the plots were set in a far away place and a long ago past - when men were still real men and women were still real women. The Arusha wildlife was introduced as an "appetizer", but at that moment I could not believe it can get any better. Only the armed ranger with a big game rifle was a reminder that we are not in a zoo. 

Arusha has comparably small wildlife reserves. But as the way passes via Tarangire, the Ngorongoro Crater into the Serengeti you will be taken away completely by the beauty of this land. There is not a minute you don't want to spend getting close up to buffaloes, wilderbeests, lions, leopard, cheetahs, zebras, giraffes, elephants and all the other wildlife from birds to corocodiles. For me two situations caught me completely. One was a peg of lions hunting buffaloes in the Ngorongoro Crater. The other was the big migration where thousands of animals come into the Serengeti and move towards water and green grass. Perhaps these are some instincts deeply engraved in the human brain millions of years ago, but to watch this is one of the most intense experiences you can have.

The closest was to leave the tent at night for a pi and walk strait into a peg of lions, just a torch in my hand and no gun. And even if somebody would have been awake with an AK47, I thought that being between him and the lions might even make it worse. As I am too small to be serious food, I slowly retreated to be also not be perceived as danger, but watched them carefully not to end up as a toy. 

This region is Maasai land and  they still roam around in a traditional way and live in clan based villages with a patriarch and around ten wifes each. Everybody are brothers and sisters in the genetically sense of the meaning and it is actually surprising to me that evolution did not wipe them out as a result of inbreeding. Another question, which they did not answer, was what happens to the men which do not find wifes in this system. I just could not match the numbers. But I was told that this ratio is natural. Maasai architecture is very much shaped by the building material which is cow shit. And sitting in such a cow shit hut in front of a fire place with no chimney and nearly no ventilation, explaining to my host that Carbon Monoxide makes you sleep well but perhaps not wake up again, I was thinking how good it was I did not study Anthropology when I was young. Later, when we had to leave behind a Rand Rover trailer with a broken axle in a Maasai village, I followed the bizarre picture how they dragged the trailer into the inner circle of the stick fences for a while until it disappeared in the cow herd. I found the Maasai are strait forward to talk to, but for me a bit hard to read the faces.

After weeks of wilderness and camping, the unpaved Serengeti airstrip was the point to take off again. On a pole hang the airbag flattering and a man with a walkie talkie and a binocular standing beside. This was the tower. A few Land Rovers standing around. This was the terminal. People with spears boarding the Russian plane. This was the security check. A sign that the axe is beside your seat behind the pilot was another reminder that this operator might not comply with IATA rules. We took off East and had another view from up here on Serengeti and the Ngorongoro Crater. Then the pilot pulled South towards Zanzibar.

Currently Out of Office

I am currenly out of the office. As I am roughly following the red arrows on the map above, please allow longer time for responding e-mails due to potential lack of sufficient infrastructure. Please also allow infrequent updates of this website, if at all. Later though, most likely at the beginning of the next year, I am happy to condense field book notes in some blog posts and also upload some photos. If you like you can subscribe to the RSS Feeds and you will not miss it when I am back to Cyberspace. I will try to feed the Microblog from time to time, which you also find in the left column or you can link to Twitter, which is the system via which I feed this section remotely. I hope you excuse, that I have pulled the contact form on this website into the "members only" section, as I will not be able to respond to website requests. If you have a login to this website, you will see emergency contact data and satellite communication features. I wish all you on the Northen hemisphere a good autumn and those on the Southern hemisphere a nice spring time. Some of you I might meet on the way. So far, take care and all the best.

Arabian Sands

Since thousands of years they all came though these regions, of which a part is today the relatively new construct of Jordan. It were Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Greek, Nanataenians, Romans, Christian crusaders. Some came in peace, some for war. All of them left their traces and influences. It is a region, in which the Bible reads like a tour guide - specially the old testament. Even Chinese porcelain was found in Aqaba, dating back centuries. Today you don't find it as a surprise that trading ties are close between Jordan and China. Cement, phosphate, potassium, salt from the Dead Sea and other minerals, are traded against rice and infrastructure projects. For example the lighting system of the new stadium in Amman is contracted by a company from Shenzhen. Jordan has been drawn up on a map by the late British Empire, like many other Nations. Specially under the reign of King Hussein, also called the Lion of Jordan, the country remained exceptionally peaceful for this region. A nearly miraculous act of balancing powers. King Hussein is very much admired for his ability to maintain mostly peace and the loyalty to his people. His last wife Queen Noor, which became her name after her conversion to Islam, had an important role to explain the Jordanian position to the first Golf War to American audiences. The current King Abdullah II and his wife Queen Rania have very big shoes to fill and are sometimes seen as installed figures by the United States. Since the American lead invasion into Iraq, Jordan is swamped with refugees, lost an important trading partner and access to cheap oil. In a time in which many Middle East and Magreb governments have been either overthrown or are under pressure, Jordan seems to remain stable. King Abdullah II promotes reforms and Queen Rania changed her PR strategy by avoiding gala balls and is now only seen visiting charitable organizations, hospitals and educational institutions. Still, compared with the charismatic and legendary King Hussein, the recent efforts of the two head figures of the current regime seem a bit helpless. But how good can you be, when you are publically compared to a nearly mythical souvereign like King Hussein?

An old former soldier with a several times broken nose, who must have been in his 70s, told me over a cup of tea: "Don't believe what you see. He has good intentions and tries his best. But he is a King of Jordan, who speaks better English than Arabian. How can he explain to Arabs, that he understands their needs and problems? Specially in times in which being the bridge to America is not seen as good. He might be a traitor to Jordanian interests. Inflation is high in Jordan. People measure him against King Hussein. Dictatorships are only as good as their dictators."

In Jordan the past is always present. Even though its capital Amman is a city, mostly built in the 21st century, it still breathes a lot of traditional oriental air. I stayed in Amman during Eid festival, which marks the end of Ramadan and enjoyed the liveliness of families getting together and going out in best clothes to best restaurants in town. The scenery changes abruptly, when you leave the city of Amman into the Wadi As-Seer and follow further to Iraq Al-Amir, which is the home of the Jordan national flower, the black Iris. There are also nice remains of ancient fortified homes and caves, which are interesting to see. For example Quasr al-Abad (Palace of the Prince) is one of the rare remains of pre-Roman architecture. North you quickly get into the impressing site of Jerash.

It is great fun to negociate with Arabians. Everbody is somehow a salesman. There is rarely a saleswomen, by the way. I learned that North European men "don't wrap their women decently and care excessively about their opinions". Women here often agree to being wrapped very decently, and their opinion about it has been explained to me by their husbands: "They like it better that way". I believe that, first because it is very sunny and dusty outside, and secondly it does not cause this confusion which we have often in Northen Europe. God is great, isn't he?

Like in all Arab countries the sales process of any product is done in no hurry and includes a thorough discussion on the product's value and the relation to its price. I always tried to combine this with some business lectures, which is a "deformation professionelle". For example the negotiation for a Bedouin headscarf, a Keffiyeh, I included the learning objectives 1) understanding the price as a function of supply and demand and 2) competition and Adam Smith's invisible hand.

A Bedouin salesman started with a friendly smile and said: "Only 8 JD". Completly uninterested looking at my watch, I responded: "You know, my friend, the price is a result of supply and demand. You have supply and I need nothing. So you have to give it to me for free". He thought a bit and then bursted out: "For free, that's not fair". So I told him, looking serious and deep: "You are right, my friend, that's not fair. If you give me something for free which I don't need, I have expenses for transportation, storage and maintenance. So, if I take it from you, you pay me 5 JD for my service. OK?". He thought a bit and then sounded angry: "No". So I had to ease the situation slightly: "No? That's the wrong answer. Like this you can't sell it. I am just trying to help you my friend. Find a better answer. Think a bit and try again". He thought, looking up to the sky for a moment, and said quietly: "But you need it". I was very happy he got it so fast: "Very good! How much do I need it and why?". Now he felt that he was on the right way and smiled: "You need it a lot. The sun is very strong today". I still had to cover Adam Smith: "Very good! But I can buy this from somebody else cheaper". He looked disappointed and said: "But you are my friend". I had to help him back on the strait path: "Hey, don't go for moral arguments. This is not the ethics class. Try again. I know you can do better than that". He thought a bit and understood: "Mine is better quality and when you are not happy with it, you come again and I give you your money back". We were nearly there: "Great, so 2 JD and I will take care of it?". Finally the deal was sealed with a happy handshake and under laughter: "3 JD? ... Ok!". From this day on, with my new scarf and my old sunglasses, I looked so much like an Bedouin, that people were making space for me when I crossed crowded places and drivers greeted me with their horn like an old friend.

Driving South, up to Madaba, the you find an industrial desert, in the true sense of the meaning, with a mix of factories from canned food over chicken factories to silicon. It might have to be like this in a country which develops manufacturing industries in a quest how to progress. However, there is more than enough space already here, to get off the road and get some feeling for your car and test the limits of your low ratio gearbox and your ground clearance. You will need it later. Further, on the way South you may pass the Dead Sea, and many architectural relicts including the the impressive crusader castles of Al-Karak and Ash-Shwabak, which is already close to Wadi Musa and the ancient stone city of Petra. 

I entered Petra, like everybody who pays for the ticket, through the Siq, which is a steep gorge eroded in the sandstone. Sometimes it is only a few meters wide. When I came to the end of it the view opened to the large sandstone structure called the treasury, I really did not believe my eyes. It is a huge cave, with a sand stone building front hammered into the rock. Further right following the now wider gorge, I entered the main basin in which Petra lies and in the moment I passed the Theatre and had a fuller view. At this moment it was clear that this is the most amazing architecture, I have ever seen - and might ever see in my life. No doubt this is one of the seven wonders of the world. Temples, tombs, even a byzantine church, gateways. But Petra is as much about these grand monuments, as about the own discovery of caves and tombs reaching far into the desert mountain. When I went up to the monastery and passed a sign "View from here to the end of the world", I looked into the Araba desert and it was clear that I did well trying out the limits of the car first before going any further into such terrain.

Soon I passed another sign, explaining the dangers of what is upfront, and telling me only to cross this point with at least one companion. My companion this time was a Toyota Land Cruiser, which I regard beside the Land Rover Defender and the G-Class Mercedes, as the only suitable transportation for these conditions. Soon I turned out to be wrong and the leaf spring of the Land Cruiser broke, an incident which is best described in my mother language with the German word "Scheisse". Wilfried Thesinger was right, that only camels are companions in the desert. When your camel dies, you die. When your car dies, you might die. But I did not, because the car was still drivable. From there I had to switch to Toyota Hilux, which is not my first choice for further pursuit into a place which was the film set for the movie "The red planet" in which it served as the surface of Mars: Wadi Rum and the Southern Desert. The journey started with a flat tire - "Scheisse" again.

Wadi Rum is a stunning desert landscape, with rocks, mountains and changing colors of sand. This is where Prince Feisal decided, with the advise of T.E. Lawrence to send a small number of men to Aqaba which was held by the Turks. Uniting other tribes on the way, this was the beginning of the Arab Revolt in WW1, ultimately taking Aqaba and driving out the Turks, but not giving freedom to the Arabs. It must have been an enormous expedition to cross the desert on camels, which is sand, sand and stony plains underneath and a hammering merciless sun from the top. It needs not just some skills handling a 4x4 vehicle today to cross it, but also a bit of tricky driving around checkpoints as the crossing needs special permits, which I failed to obtain.

Aqaba, has been an important port since ancient times. It was a castle and a garrison. Then it was used by the British to supply their military activities in the North of it. In modern times, it might be called a "hub". There is not much to see in Aqaba itself, but the beauty of it lies in front of the city: the Red Sea. My first impression coming out of the desert was that the Red Sea is the bluest sea I have ever seen. Of course, this gave me the question why it is called Red Sea. Making sure, that I do not see it just differently, I asked other people and they confirmed that it is blue. So my next question was: "How come you call something Red Sea for thousands of years and I figure it out in 5 minutes, that it is blue?". This did not just cause bursting laughter among the Arabs around me, but also brought me a very nice dinner invitation, because they found me very entertaining (an adjective by which I am usually not described in other parts of the world). Also in other incidents I found that German and Arab humor matches very well. The Arabs I met in Jordan were the most friendly people I have seen since traveling through Sri Lanka earlier this year. Of course, it did not take long to find out that the Red Sea appears red under certain conditions in which a red alge grows. But I could not eye witness it myself.

The most beautiful part of the Red Sea is under the surface. As soon as you put your head under water, there are fish of all colors and all sizes in a beautiful coral landscape. Sunk trade ships and military clashes left wrecks of vessels and tanks, which are slowly taken back by nature. So much to see, that 10 liters at 200 bars disappear like nothing. But also just snorkeling will keep you for hours in the water. Some corals though are destroyed by divers and boats, which is sad to see. The campaign of the Heinrich Boell Stiftung together with the city of Aqaba can not be seen enough: "Take nothing but photos. Leave nothing but bubbles". I just hope no ship ever sinks here with a harmful load. This would be a loss for the planet and for mankind.

Setting the desert on fire

The first time I came across written pieces of T.E. Lawrence, it were the letters he wrote to his mother while he crossed Europe on his bicycle as a teenager. This was written long before he became the legendary Lawrence of Arabia, and the Seven Pillars of Wisdom, but somehow the letters were so much not a teenager, but a serious young adult that had plans to conquer the world in his own way. Yesterday, chatting with a friend in his hidden campus office, I lost a bet. Which college did T.E. Lawrence go to? I said Keble, he St. John's. We were both wrong. It was Jesus. I was believing for more than two decades that I stayed in the dorm of Lawrence of Arabia at Keble, when visiting there. I guess I was wrong then. Never mind.

Lawrence of Arabia was a central figure in Britain's campaigns in the Middle East during the First World War. He skillfully facilitated the Arab Revolt against the Turks, sieged Medina, participated in the Battles of Fweila and Aba el Lissan. Using his local knowledge and enormous physical endurance he united Arab tribes while crossing the Nefud Desert and took Aquaba. The city was nearly defenseless because artillary pointed to the Red Sea and could not be turned towards the desert, because it was believed nobody can cross it with a significant army. In the years to come he was a central figure in the battles of Talifeh, Deraa and Damascus. He was pulling the strings of Arab tribes terrorizing the Turks in small units, blowing up railways and performing surprise attacks. This was guerilla warware in its early form - some might call it terrorism.

Lawrence translated Homer's Odyssey from ancient Greek into English and his major books were the Seven Pillars of Wisdom and Revolt in the Desert. He was a close friend to Charlotte Shaw, the wife of George Bernhard Shaw, who both gave him a Brough Superior SS100 as a present, which was one of the fastest motorcycles at that time. Two months after he left the forces, he had a fatal accident with it. There are a few recent books on T.E. Lawrence, like John E. Mack's The Prince of Our Disorder, or Michael Korda's Hero and collections of his own writings, like Evolution of a Revolt, and Malcom Brown's anthology T.E. Lawrence in War and Peace.

I recently read James Barr's Setting the Desert on Fire, which is easy reading and discribes contexts around the campains of Lawrence of Arabia during the First World War. Also Wilfried Thesinger's Arabian Sands is an interesting record of the world of the Beduins, decades after Lawrence, but still in the same pre-oil money era.

The Middle East kept going through war and peace since the 1916-1918 campaigns. Glory and tragedy are always hand in hand in war. Now there is a fragile peace in some regions and revolts in others. The deeper you dig in the Middle East, the closer you come to the cradles of Europen civilisation. I will carefully listen to the news and watch the map in the next few weeks and stay on the safe side of the line.