Down the Rabbit Hole...

It's a feeling that I've had before. It is a combination of deja vu, and uncertainty. It is not the uncertainty of what will happen in the immediate future, but the uncertainty of change of the winds of my life. I am surrounded of memories of the season, a cold wind on autumn air, and I am surrounded by memories of friends leaving me behind to go on the adventures of their lives and my leaving them to go on the adventures of mine.

It is with a great difficulty that I lift long roots from the deep crevices of the Earth and move the trunk that is the life I've built. When I left for China, I was ready for this move. I was free of attachment and I was ready to be free. I had friends who thought that I would not return from that trip. They thought that I would go and keep going. I was ready to if chance brought me down that path.

This time it is different. Out of the very solid advice to stay clear of attachment I found that I had no choice. I found that attachment is not something of conscious mind, but of a deeper force. Certainly one can avoid situations likely to seed attachment, and for the record, I did, but again in chance attachment is not a choice, but a calling. When a path reveals itself, it is your choice to walk down it, or to not.

This path is of my choosing and no one else's, so in my pain of the slow breaking of bonds between the Earth and my roots I have the satisfaction of knowing that of all the paths, this is my path. Of all choices before me, it is every single choice that I have ever made that has let me to this junction. And as I sit with this plane before me full of new adventures, a certain increase in pain, and definite feelings of loss, I know that this is my choice once more.

I could get on that plane in a few hours, or, I could not.

Some paths, like attachment, are not a choice, but a calling instead. The life I lead are steps down that path. I get as close as I can to the path of calling over choice, for it gives me a feeling of certainty. It is like a great hand rests on my shoulder as I walk that path, and it tells me that it will be alright. It feels like every step down that path of calling is one step closer to a certain end destiny.

If there is purpose in this life, and if I have a role to play, I will certainly do my best to play it. Perhaps there is no purpose, and this path of calling is just another choice, but one that reassures my heart, and my mind. So what? Purpose or not, the most utility lies in pursuing this path.

I have pursued this path for a long time. It has brought me happiness, it has brought me wealth, and it has brought me great devastation. But out of the devastation I always find the warming catharsis of the next steps down this road to my happiness.

I chose the calling in attachment.

I will also choose the calling in the path I have laid before me. A plane awaits me, and I will be on it.

Just another step, on the path of my life.

Tomorrow, I land on solid soil and drive my roots deep; back into the Earth.

On the Path to Recovery...

A long night turned into a long long day. Mom said that after surgeries that she has had the second day is the worst. It was for me. I think it is partly because I had been clenching every muscle I had in recovery the day before, but on Wednesday it felt like I had been hit by a car. Wait, not a car... a truck... and not one of those little ones... but a big one...

Wednesday was a day of enduring. It was a day of taking my pain killers and just making it through. The surgeon's office was not helpful, and Health-Link thought I should return to the Hospital. I was able to book an appointment with the surgeon on Thursday. That would have to do.

So from Wednesday to Thursday I just had to make it. I just had to keep going, and keep fighting. I did. A nurse called from the Hospital to check on me. I told her I was in pain and running out of percacet, but that I had T3's. She said don't wait in the 4-6 hours, she said when 4 hours comes along, take the drugs. I took her advice.

Out of percacet and onto T3's... this is about where I left off with my last entry.

Thanks to Pharmacists being able to prescribe drugs, and assistance from my wonderful girlfriend, I was able to acquire muscle relaxants to go on top of the T3's.

I fought through the day and another night. It was another long night, but I had come prepared. In spurts I watched I, Robot so that by the time it was day I had finished. I managed to get some sleep, but when I could not sleep because of the pain, I had Will Smith to keep me company.

Yesterday was better. My body felt better and my spirits were good. I got to see the surgeon. G & G picked me up at 1:00 and we headed to the Hospital. They told me to bring a book since the appointment could take anywhere from 15 minutes to 4 hours. When I was in the Clinic everyone's eyes were on me. I think that because I am so young and limping around with a cane I get extra attention. When I slowly and painfully lowered myself into a chair I could read the same expression on all of their faces. I would like to say it was compassion and sympathy, but it was not, the expression I saw was "I'm glad that's not me."

I got in surprisingly fast, which was good because I could not focus enough to read my book. I hobbled to a little room with a curtain wall where I waited for the surgeon. Someone came and checked my incision. He said that it was healing very well. He was surprised that I had had surgery two days ago, since the incision looked so good. He peaced out and I waited for the surgeon.

He came in and the first thing he mentioned was my pain. He saw me hobble in and guessed what I was there for. I asked him if he knew how I woke up and he shook his head. I told him that all I remember is waking up screaming. He affirmed that I am in that small group where the sciatic nerve becomes inflamed from surgery instead of getting immediate relief. He said that I could expect 4-6 weeks of nerve pain.

I am not terribly pleased with this, but at least everything else is going well. He gave me pain killers to get me over the pains from surgery, and pain killers to get me over the nerve pain. He is a good Doctor, and I am pleased that he was my surgeon.

One more thing that he said that I was glad to hear is that when they were in my back there was an injury. The disk was out, there was disk material broken and scattered around, and they pulled it out. Everything went well, and if everything continues to well I will be able to resume much of my old life.

It was still a difficult afternoon, but the pain killers did wonders. I have now been able to sleep, though I wake about once an hour, and get terrible pain in my legs. I used to get cramps that would wake me up, now I get random nerve pain and end up screaming obscenities. Oh well.

This is the path to recovery, and though it might not be easy, it is the right road.

It should only get easier from here.

A Long Night.

The adventure continues...

When I got home I was able to hold off having percocet for 4.5 hours. Then I was able to hold off taking it for 6 hours. Then I needed it at 3.5 hours, the only problem is, 4 hours is the minimum.

I had my drugs just before midnight. Then I was off to sleep. My parents had the next batch of drugs downstairs and were to give them to me in the morning at 6 am. I woke up in the night because of pain and thought that it must be time for drugs. I would get out of bed, go to the bathroom, take drugs and go to bed. No. It did not go like that. Somehow I managed to get out of bed and to the bathroom, and then I was on my way back when I saw the clock. It was about 1:30 am. 3.5 hours more until I was even allowed to take drugs. Crap.

I managed to make it back into bed and back to sleep. I was up lots. I was up from pain. I was up because I had to go to the bathroom. In the end I managed to roll twice and get up once more. I needed drugs. I went to the bathroom and then looked at the clock. 3:30 am.

Knowing I would need the drugs I woke the fam. I got Dad to bring me the drugs from downstairs so that I could take them at 4 am, and then I set about waiting. It was a long wait. I did not wait the full half hour, but I did wait for most of it.

I took the drugs, fought my way back to bed, and slept.

I was up early, still before my parents. I continued to doze, in and out, for another hour before the pain was too great. I took a long time getting up and getting downstairs.

Mom and Dad helped me lay down there where I was able to sleep until 8:30 am where I was forced to take drugs again.

I have now been given a muscle relaxant that I can use with percocet or T3, so I will use it on an opposite cycle so that I might smooth out this pain roller coaster.

The soonest I could see the surgeon is tomorrow.

I'll be there.

A nurse just called. She reinforced that I should be taking my drugs every four hours if the pain is that bad.

Yay... drug time...

Microdiscectomy.

Part One

So, I really meant to start a post yesterday with my thoughts and feelings about going in to surgery, but, I ran out of time. So... we will just start with the whole story of surgery today.

Yesterday was good. Back pain was solid, which was nice to reinforce why I was going for surgery, my mental state was solid, and I was more or less ready. Sure, I was a little nervous of the possible problems related to having surgery on your back, but due to the way I live my life and personal philosophy I was not concerned. Whatever happens, happens. And... whatever happens... happens for a reason.

I did not sleep much night, but I was not expecting to, after all, there was a lot on my mind. No food after midnight, in this case no food after 10 pm which was when we returned from Olives, which is a very very nice restaurant in Calgary that I had never heard of. Food was amazing, and thus, with my stuffededness I did not need to eat in those last hours. Nothing to drink for the four hours leading to surgery, well, I just stopped at midnight with my nightly pills. That done, and following a shower, I was good to go.

Up and on the road by 6:40 am. Hospital at 7:00. Admitting grabbed me in to ask me some questions, while Mom and Dad got the estimated time of my release, and then things got started. We had hugs to part and then I was on my way.

First thing was the lab work. That is a great way to start the day. I have been out of bed for an hour and then they are poking and prodding me with needles. A few vials of blood was all they wanted. I do love hospitals however, the lab techs are generally very good and you cannot really feel the needle. My arm shakes regardless...

After the lab work was completed I made my way to day surgery. I sat down for about 30 seconds when they called me and brought me to my... uh... room. They called it a room, but really it was a room with over 20 beds in it (I was number 20), and my room was the little area my curtain covered. However, it did almost feel like home to me for those hours today, with my clothes in the closet, my Canadian Society of Civil Engineering Magazine in my hands, and me in the bed.

Actually, when we got there they wasted no time in handing my a dress, and telling me to strip down. For many things you get to keep your underwear on... not for this. The Nurse specified that the underwear and socks and shoes had to be taken off. The instructions really took a long time to convey. When she was telling me I was thinking of a more effective method. All she really needed to say was get bare ass naked and then throw on the dress.

I did appreciate her detailed instructions on how to put the booties on though (no sarcasm intended) and they looked easy to throw on the wrong way, but you would figure it out real quick.

Ok, where was I? Ahh yes, bare ass naked in a curtain for a room tieing myself in a bedsheet. Lift it up a little and cut eye holes and your are looking at the best Ghost costume for Halloween ever.

The Nurse came back in and check everything with me. Name, contacts, everything. Actually, this was the second time my name and whatever was checked... I bet they asked 50 times, and also checked my bracelet to make sure... speaking of which I should chop that off...

So, information done, some minor briefing on how some people will come and wheel me away, and then my very special day really gets started. Then I will be gone for about 40 minutes for the procedure, 40 minutes for recovery, and then I will be back for 3-4 hours, and finally released.

Until that time I had to wait.

In retrospect I should have brought something a little more interesting that my Summer issue of CSCE, but, I did get to learn about the construction of Cancun's second runway... with pictures!

I had to pee... I am sure you wanted to know... but I do have something to share about that. Walked to the bathroom, and in all kinds of liberation I lifted my dress, peed, and was on my way back to My room (note: I did wash my hands). What was my insight to add here? Damn, those dresses are liberating... all sorts of flow, and breeze, and well... you get the idea.

I was done the CSCE magazine so I tossed it in My closet. There was a knock on my curtain, that sounded very much like "knock knock" followed by the entry of my porter complaining some about how there are no doorbells on the "rooms." While we were waiting for the Nurse to send me on my way, the porter (a very friendly woman) made some chit chat about raising the stretcher. It is much easier to push at its maximum height, and it is much better for your back (you being the pusher). She continued to talk about how she always shows other people that raising the stretcher makes it much easier. Actually, her husband has a bad back and she really does not want one. Injuring a back is sort of one way; it is good until it is not. And then that is it.

It was about then that I chose to inform her that I was in there for my back. What a look. She then told me that is how you put "both feet in your mouth." She apologized profusely, and I told her that I was not offended and not to worry about it. I don't think she was reassured. The Nurse came and sent us on our way.

What a strange feeling it was to be wheeled around in a bed. I felt like I was in a movie, or I was dead, or something. More chit chat as we wheeled from Day Surgery to the OR. She parked me in a hallway outside the OR to wait. They were just waking up the last patient and rolling him out. Lots of people came to introduce themselves while we were waiting. I met one of my nurses, I met my two anesthesiologists (one of which who requested that when I hear here voice that I not swing at her. Evidently men strike out when they are disoriented and in aims of not getting struck out at she asked me to try to remember... she also told me I would not remember any of that, but that she thinks asking people ahead of time helps), and I met one janitor, and some other people that do... I don't know what. Most of them asked my name, and checked with my bracelet.

I would like to make a special note here to thank my boss Dean who gave me invaluable advice. He told me to make sure that I was in for what I was in for and not say... a vasectomy... Dean... they did ask me what I was in for and I was damn sure to tell them microdiscectomy...

They rolled out the guy ahead of me and then mopped the floor. Then...

They rolled me in.

There were a lot of people. Most of whom I had met a few minutes prior. The nurse rolling me in asked my name and what I was there for. Then when we were in the OR she asked me to tell a nurse named Gavin what my name was and what I was there for.

The anesthesiologist resident who met me in the hallway gave me an IV... which really sucked, since I could feel the hose slide into my vein. At the same time someone took my blood pressure. Some lights needed adjusting and I could hear the surgeon jump on the job saying that in the preparations for surgery he didn't get to do anything.

Some of you may know that when I have bits of metal stuck into my I have a tendency to shake. This holds true for all kinds of needles, including IVs. So... I was shaking, and... I was laughing slightly. They slapped a gas mask on me and got things started. First I was given some oxygen, then I was given something that made me dizzy. Lights blurred, and voices had a tendency to stretch with a mild echo. I was told that my hands would feel heavy and soon my eyelids would as well. Heavy? My IV made my arm feel like it was getting run over by a car, but that was a fleeting sensation as my eyelids began to droop.

The last thing I remember hearing was a pat on the shoulder and someone telling me "You're in good hands."

I cannot imagine a better way to go to sleep.

Part Two

Evidently I had been awake for a few minutes. I had been talking with the doctors and nurses and trying out my legs to make sure that they worked properly. I overheard that in this time I had told them that my pain was a 9/10.

Let me first explain a few things. At this point I was awake, but I was not conscious. My body was awake, but I was not there. Also, my pain scale incorporates some rather terrible things. In three years of injury I have found that my 10 on the scale makes the pains of everyday living look like 1's and 2's. Now we can move on.

I came to consciousness in the middle of testing my legs. I was asked to push them down, and to pull them up. My left left barely felt responsive. The next thing I was aware of was the pain. It seemed that pain at a 1 came into my awareness and within seconds it sped from a 1 to a 10 and then exploded from a 10 to something I had never experienced before. I guess it was a 10 since 10 is as high as it goes, but my horizons for pain had been completely demolished and remoulded.

I was aware for only seconds and going from communicating to the staff in recovery to screaming out in pain. I cannot imagine how many people were in recovery, or how the nurses around me dealt with it, but I screamed.

I remember going to the Invermere Hospital once for the Flu or something, and while I was there I could hear a man crying out in pain. He had been given the maximum amount of Morphine and was still screaming.

Today... that man was me.

I could hear them talking. I could hear them saying they had given me 14 out of 15mg of Morphine, and I could hear them trying to figure out what to do next. I could hear them, but I cannot remember it all. I was consumed by pain. I was screaming. My body was wreathed in agony.

A nurse told me I needed to relax my hands. I tried. I think that the IV was not working properly because my hands were both clenched to the railing of my bed. My knuckles and fingers were white with the effort. I was able to release my hand with the IV, but not the other.

Once the Morphine was in I was able to focus. I could hear them, and I could speak back between my screams. They asked me to take deep breaths. I tried. They asked me to breathe in the oxygen at my nose. I tried. I told them my nose does not work that well and I could not breathe. They told me to breath through my nose, or my mouth, or whatever, but what they were really telling me to do was breathe.

Between screams, I did.

They told me I needed to relax. I was flexing pretty much every muscle I have. In the pain everything was pulling together tight in agony. They asked me to relax, I told them I could not. They told me to try.

The anesthesiologist appeared, called from somewhere, and he was quickly informed of my situation. He made some quick calls to throw some more drugs into my IV. I believe this new one was an anti-inflammatory. He said it was fast acting and I should get relief soon.

My screams slowed to cries of pain. The intervals were infrequent, but that was an improvement. He told me that given my history with the pain killers it is likely that I have a resistance to them. He told them that this kind of flare up can happen with chronic pain like mine.

My cries decreased gradually as the added drugs to my IV.

Then there was an exhausted silence.

I was very sure to thank my nurse. In the midst of it all when they were trying to reassure me all I really remember saying is that "I trust you." They were my guardians, and they did well.

That 40 minutes I was supposed to be in recovery turned into two hours.

Then they brought me home. Back to day surgery. Back to my room. The nurse rotation had changed. I needed to rest more in the hospital before I could be released. I told the nurse I would be fine, but I would need to go to the bathroom.

She helped me get up and out of bed. She helped me get my gown re-snapped up, and she helped me walk down the hall. That was the first I had moved since I had woken up, since the pain had held me immobile. That was the first I was on my feet and the first I had walked.

I was back and in bed.

I lay there for the rest of my stay. Nurses came in to check my vitals, and to give me information, but mostly I just lay there. I was drowsy, but I could not sleep. There was too much action around me. My curtain walls protected me, but there was too much proximity. I cannot sleep with motion around me, it is not safe. There were to many sounds. To much everything.

After a while I asked when I could go.

She said that it would be half an hour and I could call my ride and get dressed.

I did.

Felt like forever, but I finally saw Mom walk into my room. I was on my feet, in a wheel-chair, and on my way.

We were in the car in no time.

There was a brief stop at Sobey's for some junk food, and then we came home. I was glad. The car made me sick. There are still a lot of drugs in my veins.

I lay down, and I slept.

When I woke, I came here to tell you my story.

Here it is.

To all those around me... thank you for your support.

It is time to rest again.

Splinters and Seminars

The last few weeks have been a rather hectic to say the least.

It started with me showing up to work and getting an e-mail telling me that Watkin Sensei had safely arrived in Calgary. That doesn't sound so bad right? Wrong. Watkin Sensei was not supposed to be in Calgary for one more week...

I was unavailable the night before, when he was refused entry into the United States. He called the house but no one was home. Air Canada gave him some options. Fly from Toronto back to the Philippines, or fly somewhere else. Not knowing if we were even around, and not on vacation or something, he decided to fly to Calgary. He made it there and eventually got a hold of my family. They got a hold of another Club member and sent here to the airport. After 50 hours of travel Watkin Sensei made it to my house. It was then 3:00 am. I cannot express enough gratitude to the friend who went looking for him at the airport for an hour and a half in the middle of the night while knowing she had to work only a few hours later.

So, the next morning when I got to work I figured it out. A few hours later I had the whole story, had talked to Sensei, the guys in the United States (who had been freaked out when he did not arrive as planned), and was now working towards resolution.

For two days we tried to explore every possible avenue to get Sensei into the States. We were unsuccessful. His passport was issued in the UK in 2003, before they made Machine Readable Passports. Evidently in the United States you need a Machine Readable Passport to get in (depending on your customs agent). We did not catch this before because of some ambiguity in the rules for admission into the States, otherwise we would have sorted this out prior to he seminars.

Sensei and I called everyone we could think of. We looked on the Internet. We went to the Airport to speak with a US Border Agent. We went to the Consulate and found out he needed a Vise. We sent a letter to the Consulate Emergency Line, to try and get an appointment to get a Visa. And... we were turned down by the Consulate for that appointment. They said to apply for an appointment online. Sensei did. His appointment is in 8 weeks.

The two Niten Ichi Ryu Seminars in the United Sates were cancelled.

I am still trying to find if we got anything from cancelling our flights in the States, but we will probably get some credit. Insurance does not cover immigration problems.

So, Sensei was here for an extra week. Luckily we had space in the house, and when I asked for help a number of people from the Seminars offered to take Sensei around so he did not have to be stuck at our house all day.

That week passed without further issues... not that anything else could have possibly gone wrong... and the Seminars began.

The Niten Seminar was amazing. We were able to focus on the fundamentals of HNIR and Watkin Sensei generously passed some of his knowledge to us.

On the second day of the Seminar, Taylor Sensei and his family arrived, and on the Third Day of the Seminar Jodo began. At the Calgary Iaido Club we have now been practicing Jodo for one year (since the first Seminar with Taylor Sensei) and were able to learn many things to improve our training. When you only get instruction once a year it is very difficult to get everything just right, but, we try, and Taylor Sensei has pushed us further along that path.

At the end of the Third Day Yamamoto Sensei and his family arrived and the hordes from the Seminars all piled to a Japanese restaurant to greet him. It was good.

More training on the Fourth and final day for Niten and Jodo, followed by a barbecue at our house. By this time I was ready for a quick break, so on the recommendation of Taylor Sensei I let the crew take charge of the barbecue. For most it was a farewell for Watkin Sensei and because of this it was an important event. The event almost went off without any issues, and the issues that did occur need not be discussed on this media.

The next morning all of the Sensei and their respective families and I went to Invermere. It took all day to get there, but we saw about a bazillion sites through the Rockies on a route that Gilham Sensei planned. When we arrived people were pretty tired, but even then a group of us were up pretty late.

During this trip to BC I had to finish my Paper on China that was the last requirement of my Masters Degree. I must thank everyone who supported me in this through various means.

The next two days were spent relaxing. Well... most people were relaxing... I was working on my paper. I did take time however to go with the Taylor's to a movie at the Toby Theatre, the Trestle Bridge, the Whiteswan Hot Springs, and the Pool at Akiskinook.

On the Thursday... whenever that was... we left hella early to get back to Calgary in time to take Watkin Sensei to the airport. The Taylor family was generous enough to stay behind a few hours to do the laundry, and the night before everyone pitched in on the cleaning... except for me... I was writing a paper. On the way home we saw, deer, a fox, and a bear. This was good for Yamamoto Sensei and his family as this is not something they see in Japan.

Home, paper submitted, airport, farewell to Watkin Sensei for another year, G & G's, home, Iaido Seminar. Wow. The Iaido Seminar ran for three days and was an amazing opportunity for us to see the source of our Iaido knowledge. Gilham Sensei has taught us, but it was Yamamoto Sensei who taught him. I learned many things from both Yamamoto and Taylor Sensei. On the final day people who are due, or nearly due, for a grading went up and demonstrated in front of the entire group. I would have failed myself for my Sandan (Third Level Blackbelt) Grading, but I was given invaluable feedback from Yamamoto, Taylor, and Gilham Sensei.

That night we had the Club barbecue. It was a good wrap-up party and farewell to the Sensei. I had finished my Masters, but there was, and is, so much work to do that I was not really able to relax. I guess I have not really relaxed in a year and a halfish so this is not too shocking.

It was at the barbecue that I was given the most gracious and sincere thanks that I have ever received. Seemingly out of the blue Yamamoto Sensei's Wife bowed to me deeper than anyone ever has. I tried to bow lower, but it could not be done. Watkin Sensei warned us about the bows of older women in Japan; they bow, you bow back lower, then they bow back lowerer... Because of the language barrier there were no words exchanged, but words were not needed.

There was a heartfelt goodbye to Yamamoto Sensei and his family and then lots of sitting around chatting with Taylor Sensei and the rest of the Seminar participants.

The next morning the Taylor's packed up and were on their way.

Overall it was another good year of Seminars. We more or less broke even on costs for the Niten and Jodo Seminars, and for the knowledge we gained there is no price.

For pictures see: http://picasaweb.google.ca/alexander.c.cook/CalgaryIaidoClubAnnualSeminars2009?feat=directlink

The Wall

We met around lunch in the Hostel. There were four of us. We did not know the bus schedule or how many buses ran a day so we were in a bit of a hurry. Two of us had not eaten and we were to grab some dumplings on the way, but when we passed the dumpling stalls they were already closed. This caused some minor issues. We took the Subway to the Bus Depot and found the right queue. There were tons of people waiting for the bus and we decided to hop in the line instead of get food then. We did not know the bus schedule.

The bus came, and somehow all four of us made it on. We drove for 1-2 hours, sorry I did not keep track, and arrived at a small town outside of Beijing. There we needed to catch another bus to take us to a village and the Great Wall. We did not know how to catch the bus, and in this regard the Lonely Planet was not helping us a Great Deal. We grabbed a quick meal, we grabbed some ice cream, and then one of our crew negotiated in Mandarin for a car to take us to the village. It was a reasonable price for the distance. 1.5 hours later we arrived.

We picked up some supplies at the last store and then headed for the Wall. On our way there we picked up another traveller who was on her own. She did not plan on spending the night, but due to the bus schedule it appeared as she had to. We said she could eat and drink with us if she wanted to tag along. She did.

We were dropped off at the side of the road where the wall had been demolished to let the road go through. We fought off people selling useless trinkets and then walked along the outside of the wall beside a reservoir and to some shacks where we were charged 2 Yuan per person (30ish cents CAD). We continued up the hill to the first guard tower. There there was a ladder leading up the Wall and into a window of the tower. On the inside of the wall there was a staircase leading to the ground, but, we were on the outside.

The wall there had been restored, and it was something to see. On the way to the road we could see a bride and groom with a photographer taking photos. And on the other side we could see our great adventure. It was already relatively late in the day so we began our trek. The wall was in great condition since it had been rebuilt and it was easy hiking. Most of the wall was like a big ramp, and when it got very steep it turned into a staircase with platforms on the sides for defenders. There were guard towers every so often. I was told by our newest recruit that the guard towers were spaced so that if each tower fired an arrow inwards it would just overlap with the other, meaning that even if only the towers were manned the wall would be defended.

We continued passed a number of towers and then stopped at one. We decided to stop because the sun was sinking, because based on our map there was only one more tower to hike passed on this route, and because we could see two people (the only other tourists we had seen all day) already camped out at the next tower. This tower would be home.

We watched the sun set, and while there was still light me and the newest recruit took the staircase to the inside of the wall and tried to get some wood from the brush. There was not much to choose from. Everything was green and wet, and there was no deadfall. Trees were sparse and almost everything was just some kind of bush, likely due to the dry climate. We did find some wood, but were very lucky that there was some left from the last groups fire.

With the last rays of light I set about making a fire. I volunteered and no one else offered. I get the feeling that I have done it more than the rest, they were all from Europe with one from Israel, and I think that I have gained more fire starting experience in the Rockies than there. When the light was gone I lit the pyre and watched our guard tower become immersed in firelight. We did not have much wood, but I was able to keep us a fire for a few hours.

We ate, we relaxed, and when the fire went out we rested. None of us had sleeping bags. Only one of us brought a blanket. We simply laid down on the wall and slept.

Sunrise was early, and were were up for it. There was a slight break and then we got moving. The sky was clear that day and it would get very hot very soon. We opted to be on the move long before that point. We ascended the final peak of our hike and met the two guys atop the final guard tower. After a short break at the top we began the long descent down to the gate and road that was the end of the restored part of the wall. Pieces of the wall were missing here and we found ourselves climbing down short cliffs and impossible slopes. Somehow we made it.

With the end in sight we split up for a while. Some of us wanted to relax, and some of us wanted to hit the bottom and the try to climb the unrestored part of the wall. We did. At first it was difficult because of the vegetation growing all over the place, but soon there was a path, and soon after we were at the first guard tower. Had we more time we could have continued as the path did along the wall, but the first guard tower on the unrestored section was my goal.

We all met at the road and then headed back to town. There was one minor engagement with a farmer whose land we needed to pass through. The negotiations in Mandarin were fierce and the farmer did not seem to want to negotiate. His guard dogs were roaring on the other side of the fence; their tails were not wagging. After getting him down to 10 Yuan per person we paid and enjoyed a long walk through his lands back to the village.

We ate, and we stood by the side of the road waiting. When the bus came we flagged it down and hopped on. It dropped us off in the town, and we caught the bus to Beijing. It was a quiet return to the capital, and even I managed to sleep some on the bus.

Most of us met for some Peking Duck and then we retired. The Duck was excellent, but due to some conflicts within the group the supper was actually not that enjoyable.

The next day I went to the Silk Market. It is something like seven stories of stores who are all willing to negotiate and barter. The actual value here seems to be somewhere around 10% of the asking price which means the negotiations are long and tough. I find that very tiring. I bought some souvenirs and then was on my way.

Back at the Hostel three of us gathered and then headed off to the Olympic Park. We saw the Birdsnest Stadium, and when we got to the Water Cube we went inside and swam there. It is not important, but it is fun to think that I have swam in the same pools as the Olympic champions.

We returned for another meal of Peking Duck. I figured that it would be harder to get at home, so I may as well gorge.

I was up early the next day packing. I think my 11 roommates were not so thrilled with that. I loaded up with my bags, hopped on the Subway and made it to the airport. It was amazing to think that I was on my way home already.

I left Beijing at 4:00 pm on Sunday June 28th, and I arrived in Calgary at 4:13 pm on Sunday June 28th.

I was picked up, and taken home.

It was a good trip, but my body is ready for a break from it. My back needs some work, and I have lost a great deal of weight , much of which will have to be put back on.

Time to recover, and then I can plan my next great adventure.

Summer Palace

Yesterday I got up. Ok, so I actually get up every day, but yesteray I got up with a plan.

I had breakfast. I will admit it was Western, but I really cannot stand Chinese breakfast and I needed the food. I waited for rush hour to pass and at 8 am I headed out and towards the bus. I had to wait fifteen minutes and then I was able to get on one of those nice long articulated busses. No air conditioning. I paid my 2 yuan to one of the three attendants in the bus and I was on my way.

Traffic was good. It still took forever to get where I was going, but because I had waited till rush hour was over it was quite bearable. Thank you to the girl at the hostel who told me when I would be in the clear to go. I was on the bus for one and a half hoursish. It was hot, but I had a window and it was open.

At a student price I found my way in the Summer Palace, and with some extreme haggling I found a very decent map in my hand for 5 yuan. I wanted the map because, like with the Forbidden City, there is a list of sights and in a specific order that a traveller can see them in one day.

I began wandering about and wanted to walk aroud the lake but it was blocked by construction. I changed my plans and started to follow my map. The Summer Palace just seems to me to be one big vacation property. It is nice, but not for me. There are a few too many altars and temples to pray for rain or good harvests, that seems a little unecessary, but, I guess they thought they needed them at the time. It is a beautiful location, and beautiful construction.

I was again confronted with the issue of seeing a site that is not real. It has been rebuilt time and again because of the wars that have destroyed it. At least this time I was rebuilt (in most cases) in the 1800's or early 1900's, but with the construction that blocked my path around the lake you can still see that it is ongoing and it is not being preserved as its original structure.

The other interesting thing is that there is a plaque in front of every building or structure. The plaque reads something like this:

"This [Insert Attraction Name Here] was originally called [Insert Original Name Here] and was used for [Insert Original Purpose Here]. The name was changed when the [Insert Attraction Name Here] was rebuilt after it was destroyed by the Allied Forces in 1860."

For those of you who have not been taught too much about Chinese history (I only know this because I took a course on it a month ago), in the Opium Wars in the 1800's China was a closed place. They believed they were still the strongest empire in the world (which was true at one point) and when the other countries wanted to trade and be diplomatic China would not play ball. It was then that the Western Powers made China realize that in its time from being cut off from the world it had lost its military power. It was in these Wars and these engagements that the Allied Forces (mainly Britain, France, and Germany I believe) destroyed the Summer Palace, and many other things.

Now here is where I stand.

Do I feel proud, because it was my ancestors that brought one of the greatest civilizations down to its knees?

Or, do I feel ashamed and sad because of the pain and destruction brought upon the Chinese people by my ancestors?

I do not have an answer, but it is interesting to think about.

Yesterday was the hottest day I have experienced in China. There is open water and shade at the Summer Palace which helped a great deal, but even with the constant drinking of cold water and with the eating of two ice cream cones my temperature was skyrocketing.

In the early afternoon I had seen all I wanted to (which was everything I could, just about) and I hopped back on the bus. On the bus I faded in and out of consciousness in that sleepy type way that can be found when you are trying to stay awake but can't. In that furnace I resolved to take a nap to try and cool down and catch up on lost sleep.

I got home. I stripped down. I hopped onto bed and... well... water was pouring off of me. The bed was getting wet, and there was no chance that I would find sleep.

At this point it was becoming evident that I had already been in the heat too long. I was feeling very weak and quite ill, this is on top of my sore throat and overproduction of mucus. I do not like staying inside, but I stayed in and watched a movie with some other travellers. In that way I was able to avoid the heat, but when it was over I decided to go back out.

The heat had not diminished.

My eyes burned. My lungs burned, and yet, I kept going. I walked to the snack street and ordered some snake, some sparrow, and some cat. They were all pretty gross. After I ordered some sugar coated strawberries. They were ok, but I was already sick.

I took a rickshaw home and hid until the sun was down.

Later I went out for supper with a traveller and ordered Peking Duck. Lots of it. It was good.

Home, late, I tried to sleep. I fear I kept up all of the eleven other people in my room. I was coughing, rolling, fevering, and I did not get even a hint of sleep until after I saw the sun rise.

That brings us pretty close to now. My throat is not sore but I am very very ill.

No matter.

Tonight I sleep on the Great Wall.

Nothing will stop me.