jetlagged

a week after the trip, reminiscing...

we speed off from JFK at more than 500 miles per hour 

in the middle of a tuesday. 

we boarded eagerly

because promise lay ahead. 

we fly over 

Canada 

the North Pole

Russia

says the live map on my screen. 

we pass the time watching 

the pixelated plane mosey over 

the pixelated earth. 

we pull up the shade sometimes

slowly, against the fierce glare of daylight

unchanging as the crackled, snow-white terrain

below.

we squint hard,

peer down,

close the shade. 

we turn haggardly 

to our meal trays and dull screens, 

count down the hours until the New World.

The Au Family

5.2.2015

Clearly, I won't be falling asleep this morning, as I've been awake since 4:30. 

Uncle Jackson drove us around yesterday for an accelerated guided tour of the must-see sights in Sydney. The Rock, Rose Bay, and Bondi Beach. A few of these places were really charming and I would have preferred to spend the day exploring the streets on foot. But, we were on a schedule to be back at Aunt Lillian's place for the big family party.

Uncle Joseph calls Lillian the General Manager of the Au Family. And manage she did. She started planning this party a month ago, and she impressively got almost everybody to show up-- all of nearly 40 people --and bring food! She's also an amazing cook, and clearly, a very successful businesswoman. Even her three kids-- Suzanne, Derek, and David -- are mature and helped with the party without direction. In fact, all of the kids I've met have the same sense of responsibility and respect instilled in them. 

The family trickled in. Leonard, Aunt Evelyn's son, was tasked with taking the photos. So I set up my camera and tripod next to his for the shoot. First the octogenarians, then my dad's generation, then mine, some of them holding babies. I would post the photos but they are trapped in my camera at the moment.

It's funny, when you look at all of us together in a room, you can see the various sets of physical features repeating and changing with the new blood that joins the gene pool each generation. Surprising similarities occur even across different branches. For example, Suzanne reminds me so much of Georgina; the fine details are different enough between them, but as an overall impression, I would have though they were sisters. They are second cousins, however. There's weirdly also a Spanish looking part of the family, and also an actual Spanish part of the family-- in-laws of course.

There was enough food to feed a small town, and I missed out on most of it, because there were so many people to talk to. Namely, I forgot to try the fantastic looking salmon which I had watched Aunt Fiona prepare. People kept pouring me sangria, so I had plenty of that. Drinking with family-- also a new experience! 

Technically, there are just 2 uncles and 3 aunts, and everyone else is a second or third cousin to me. But I'm supposed to just call them all Auntie or Uncle.

The evening was pretty surreal. Here were a room full of intimate strangers, very westernized yet very Chinese, speaking in a rather pleasant and kinda funny accent. With each new person, we introduced ourselves by explaining who our parents and grandparents were. I'm Maggie. My dad, Sagon, is Uncle Stephen's brother, and your Aunt Emily was my grandmother. A response I heard more than once was-- Aunt Emily was a lovely lady. It's true, she was genuinely classy. Anyway, the times I'd been at family parties of this magnitude and variety before tonight, they were other people's family. Tonight's experience revealed a world previously unknown yet so close and personal.

Other than everything I just mentioned, the night's highlights included Aunt Lillian's riveting telling of her and her sister's arrest and escape during a trip to Beijing at the height of the goverment's crackdown on Falun Gong in the 90s. It's too long to tell now, but it was pretty amazing stuff.

The other was the discovery that the German ancestry business is a running joke here among the family, sort of. It has repeatedly come up in conversations about our family ties. Great grandmother is supposedly half German. But people aren't sure it's true, because in old photos, she looks quite Chinese. She does look whiter than everyone else in the photos, but I'm not sure why no one else except for Aunt Evelyn seems sure of this information. My dad had first told me this years ago, but when asked recently he doesn't remember telling it and was surprised to hear it himself. It would make sense though-- some of these relatives sure don't look very Chinese. 

The rain in Spain-- no, Sydney.

It's been raining since we landed. For the last three days we've been in and out of different parts of the city and suburbs, seeing sights and snapping photos while dodging the intermittent rain. This rain is hampering my shooting a bit. It's warm enough, though, for it not to be miserable. They say it's the most rain Sydney has gotten in 25 years. In this case, I'll take it as a sign that the powers that be approve of my dad and I being here. 

On our second day here, Friday, we rode the train from Chatswood, where Aunt Evelyn lives, into the city. Chatswood is apparently another suburb populated by many Chinese, on the north side of Sydney. The train is sleek, clean, modern, and a double decker. From Circular Quay (pronounced "key", meaning "harbor"), we rode a ferry to Manly. We had a view of the entire bay as the ferry sailed out-- the Opera House and Harbour Bridge being the centerpieces of a landscape dotted with sailboats and harbours, a skyline as layered and expansive as Chicago's flanked by green hillsides painted with white houses with red tiled roofs. Manly is a small beach area, and like many beaches has a street lined with shops leading you up to the sand and surf. There were a few surfers in wetsuits out there trying to make something of the half-hearted waves. We took in the scene, took some photos and it started to rain again, so we backtracked up the street and stopped for some fish and chips, which Uncle Jackson told us later was the thing Manly was known for. That explains why we saw so much of it.

When the ferry redocked at Circular Quay, we walked along the Opera Quay towards the Opera House. For a place that doesn't rain that much, many of the scenic and shop-lined walks were designed with overhangs and rain shelters that stretch out almost until you reach the intersecting walk that runs along the bay.

Again it started to pour as we neared the Opera House. It was also time for us to train it back to Gordon, where Aunt Lillian  would pick us up at 4:30 to head to another prearranged dinner, this time with Uncle Samuel's family. So, the Uncle Samuel I spoke of yesterday-- his name is actually Joseph. Ha! And he may or may not be blacklisted from China, but Aunt Lillian and Aunt Fiona definitely are. More on that later. So Samuel is Joseph's older brother, and they are both my grandmother's younger brothers. 

Uncle Samuel who is 88 married a second (one and a half?) generation Chinese-Australian woman from a rural area four hours north of Sydney. She reminds me of an old British lady and could probably pass, though she is full-blooded Chinese-- but I'm learning that the question of our blood is an area of much bemused speculation and rumor across the extended family. More on that later! 

Uncle Samuel looks more Chinese than Joseph. He looks like a cute hobbit. I hope he never reads this.

Dinner was in Chatswood at a fancy Chinese restaurant chosen by Roselyn and Janine, Uncle Samuel's daughters. It was Chinese owned and run, and the flavor profiles were more western-tasting. They also individually portioned and served each of us even though the dishes were family style. That was interesting. 

And Roslyn and Janine are lovely. I sat between them and chatted. Janine herself is leaving town next week for a five week trip across Europe and Asia! And Roslyn is a flavor scientist, so cool.

After dinner, Roslyn took us to Kirribilli which is a park across the bay from the Opera House. We saw it lit up next to the bridge. Kids were hanging about around us, reveling in their youth and the warm night, as we took in the scene. As we drove off, the rain came down as if cued.

The journey, the family

Unfortunately, this Australia series will be lacking the Ching part of the blog. This is uniquely a family trip. My dad and I landed at Kingsford early this morning 33 hours after leaving philly. Now that I've been here for a full day, the journey to get here seems like its own separate trip. Ching dropped us off at the Air China terminal at JFK (oh, there's the Ching portion), and we spent the first of two legs with a full cabin of other bodies en route to Beijing. It was like Chinatown, except in an enclosed box, 37,000 feet above the earth. Upon boarding, a pungent smell hit me, and there were screaming babies, Chinese spoken loudly, slippers. Throughout the flight, persons were milling about, and I heard a couple of people hocking loogies. In between the in-flight meals, some had brought snacks of cup noodles and sticky rice wrapped in banana leaf. It was also the largest plane I have ever been on, and it was packed to the gills with people and their piles of haphazardly packed luggage I watched getting checked in back at departures. Despite that the Chinatown feel gave a comfortable sort of familiarity, I was nervous about flying up until the plane glided into and remained in a stable cruising altitude.

We didn't have too much time to dally at the Beijing airport (but enough for my dad to forget his wallet at customs and take the long walk back from the gate to luckily retrieve it) before getting on the second 13.5 hour flight. There was a noticeable cultural difference in the folks aboard this flight. They were still mostly Chinese, but without the Chinatown feel. It was a bit more like the Bay Area instead.

After another mind numbing night on another plane, we were welcomed into the comfortable warmth of my dad's side of the family. Dad's cousin Lillian (Ling Ling) recognized me despite not having seen me since I was 2 and a half, and hugged me ecstatically. A nap followed a homemade lunch followed by another meal in Eastwood, which is a very Chinese suburb near Willoughby where we were staying. Dad and I dined with his two siblings, their two cousins and their husbands, and Great Uncle Samuel and his wife, whom, clearly, everyone adores as much as I do. Funny enough, I was told to sit at the kids' table with five cousins who were all younger than me.

Samuel is 86 and has twinkling, boyish eyes with charm to match. He is a writer, a gardener, a Falun Gong practitioner, and as a result, is blacklisted from entering China's borders. He has aged a lot since I met him in 2000 when he came for grandma's funeral, but isn't any less spirited. He asked us all to bring photos with us. My dad brought some really old photos from when all of the elders were just getting going in life, and he was very delighted to reminisce.

I gave him a Phillies cap, because he always has a cap on his head, and he gave me a deck of Sydney scenic photo cards, a wooden 3D koala model, and kiwis and persimmons from his garden. He explained that each card has a duplicate, and I'm supposed to send one to a missed loved one back home and when I return, to attempt to reunite the pair. If I am successful, that means that I am loved back. 

I liked that the house he shared with his wife and a renter - a young white woman who is also a Falun Gong practitioner - was cozy, modest, and familiarly Chinese, despite the kindly, innocently swaggering Australian-ness about him.

If I had felt any distance between myself and these newfound relatives whose lives and world views are relatively (har har) different from my own, Uncle Samuel's utmost warmth helped close that gap. I haven't always felt a part of a large, old, strong and caring family with a lot of rich history. It's nice to experience that now.

back.

back in madrid. the cold here is breathtaking. reminds me of the even colder chicago winter to come. made me want to get back on the plane, as awful as easyjet is to travel with. it helped that thoughts of returning to work got me sweating. not complaining. we had some great experiences. i drafted several blogposts while on the island but there was no wifi anywhere. got a ton of pics and clean clothes to look forward to. i've been wearing the same pair of jeans for 4 straight days. i should just throw out all my souvenirs and hang these jeans on my wall. i've got on me a piece of every place i've been, and large holes have formed in the crotch from the walking, or the cheap material. not complaining. received sad news upon our return. it always sends you reeling, but always makes you want to be better. i am truly lucky and deeply affected by everything i've been able to experience, happy or otherwise.

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timanfaya!

today was our last day in the islands, and we packed in our activities til the last hour before our flight.

made it a point to get up early for a run on the same path along the coastline that i did yesterday, past playa hablillo and playa bastian, past the row of bright yellow outdoor workout machines where an older woman was "steering the boat".

then i doubled back to playa hablillo, stripped down to my bathing suit and got in the water. it was cold, even though i was sweating from my run still. i got my head in eventually. there were dense schools of little silver fish darting around my feet. bub and javi came ambling along with the snorkeling goggles, bub looking groggy before 10a.

this beach was a living swimming pool! boulders encircled a piece of the shore like open arms, breaking incoming waves into gentle laps. beneath the calm surface was a giant breathing oceanarium, and we were in it, hanging with the fishes. the colors of the fishes were muted, lots of silver, some striped or whiskered, the sleek black fish with a single blue dot on its head were the coolest ones down there. dropping down into the aquarium once, i saw a huge silver fish about 3 feet long, looked vaguely sharklike. i popped up and tossed javi the goggles but it had swum out of sight too quickly. bub spotted it again by the boulders, and so began our hunt for the mammoth fish that could have been a shark. javi thinks it was a morena, not deadly like a shark but it would have attacked and not let go. too soon, it was time to move on to the day's next adventure. but on the way out, bub spotted an octopus! it fanned out its tentacles as it tried to escape from view, and was about the size of a large pasta dish. it latched onto a rock, coiled and camouflaged. i saw one of its yellow cat's eyes when i lay belly down in the sand and put my goggles just inside the water. we both locked in for a hard stare-off. i lost. it was a regal stone gargoyle and i had to go.

we returned, for the second morning, to the tiny cafe at the hotel for english breakfast served by a sweet older filipina who had been in the canaries for 25 years and plans to visit her family who lived all over the world, including chicago and winnipeg, when she retires in 2 years.

we had checked out and were on our way to timanfaya, the mountains of fire. i've never imagined a landscape born of a volcano could look like this. most of the national park area looked like mars. black, coarse, jagged rocks piled high, creating a terrain that would be treacherous to hike through. i wondered what advice bear grylls would have for surviving this place. but on the volcanic mountains themselves, the surfaces were smooth. molten liquid, once upon a time. i wanted to run my hands over it, to feel the difference. and the colors! once the bus took us high up near the summits so that we had aerial views, you could see what lava as hot as 800 degrees celcius can do... it was a black canvas painted with reds, greens, and oranges of all shades gradiating into each other like oil in water. it was unbelievable. the eruptions that created this alien landscape occurred in 1730.

our next and last stop was el golfo. it was another mountainy area next to the ocean, where we looked off of some impressive cliffs. el golfo's most unique feature was a pool of water that glowed neon green. it wasn't radioactive, just had the right combination of minerals to mix a batch of that awesome color. i wanted to go into one of the caves in search of a very large paintbrush. it would have just been one more thing i've never seen the earth do before this weekend. there was also a salt farm which i wish i had photographed but didnt.

it was already late afternoon. we had lunch at cafe azul, perched atop a cove, waves slamming into boulders just meters away as we dined on arroz caldoso. one dish had giant red king prawns with mussels and fish stewed with yellow rice. the other had cuttlefish and squid ink that blackened the rice and gave it a rich, earthy taste, kind of like the taste of liver, or chinese preserved duck eggs. both were effin amazing. we didnt take long to devour it, had nothing to do with finding out our flight was leaving in an hour and a half.

we jetted straight to the airport, then the check in lady told us our flight was delayed. oh well. i was sad to leave the island anyway.

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la graciosa, las conchas, and la ambar

11.27.2010

got up early with javi and bub to soak in the sunny morning. they went to the natural swimming pool that was playa jablillo and i ran down the shore path for 45 minutes. ching slept in. an english breakfast at the little hotel cafe followed.

today's plan was to take the ferry to the tiny island north of lanzarote, la graciosa. as we drove north to the ferry, the sky clouded over, the temp dropped and it was coming down. we gloomily anticipated another bad weather day that kept us from the fabled perfect beaches.

but once the ferry took us out from under the weather over lanzarote, it was perfect. la graciosa basked in full, glorious sunshine.

bicycling to the beaches had sounded like a good idea until the island guides said the roads were muddy. there was not a single paved road since it was a protected wildlife habitat. cars other than the official land rovers the tour guides drove were forbidden. there stood a single village on the island made of 23 houses. permission had to be gotten for each new house built and you or i couldnt just pick up and move to la graciosa.

the guide drove us through the very hilly terrain. bub noticed that there was no way in hell we would have made it on bikes. it was true. we were happy for the ride.

las conchas was insane. beautiful beach with wild, crashing waves and mountains all around. white caps like i've never seen! surfers would have loved it. the blue skies made the water look dangerously inviting. the guide said that this beach is normally very calm. well dang.

we snapped pics and drove some more. he was taking us somewhere we could swim. la ambar was paradise. the sand was powder soft, water clear blue, and not a single human being was there. well, except for this one guy in a bright orange shirt on a bike. rode past and disappeared.

we laid our stuff down in a shelter of rocks arranged in an arc to keep the wind out. the waves and undertow were pretty scary here too, but there was this small parceled off area where the rocks cut down the waves, forming a manageable pool. we just had to not lose all control and slam into said rocks. water was bearable. there were fish underneath, getting washed this way and that by the strong currents.

we laid out in our shelter, like kids playing house. we had brought a picnic of sandwiches and chips. thank god. we were hungry and there was nothing edible in a 5 mile radius unless we could catch fish by hand. while devouring our food, a giant rainbow appeared over the water. it was huge and vibrant, and we could see both ends on either side of the seascape. we were wowwing over it when we noticed the orange bicycle guy was back, sitting and staring at the rainbow too. moments later, he was gone again. he apparently was not having issues getting around on bike.

we were full, warm, and happy. it really was a perfect moment. it was just the four of us, the sun, the wildly, beautifully raging sea, and the fishes. ching and i hunted for shells in the divots in the rocks that became tiny ponds when the waves refilled them over and over, leaving behind microcosms of sealife. javi disappeared for a walk, and bub lazed in the shelter reading don quijote.

the land rover guy came back for us too soon. but we had to catch the last ferry at 5p. the ferry ride took about 20 minutes, as long as the sun took to set over la graciosa. the ferryman explained why the weather was always perfect on the southern side of that island. the mountaintops broke up any incoming storm clouds from the northwest, leaving the south with nothing but open skies, all the time. pretty fantastic.

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