Al final de …. todo…?

... España, Europe, ...my trip ...???

It has been a while since I wrote my last blog. Several months in which has happened a lot…

Although I haven't been cycling for a month (only one months?? It seems much longer!), this is where I should start this story… So okay, I'll try to concentrate and go back to this time, those days I still spent at least 6, 7, 8 hours on my bike…

It was France where I left you… At that time, beginning of October, it seemed winter had started. I remember the mountains were covered with the first snow. It gave me the feeling that from then on it would be Mister Winter who would be ruling. But, lucky me!, it turned out just to be a short episode of coldness, and a nice Indian Summer followed. I made rapid progress in France, blown by the Mistral, through lavender fields and vineyards, towards the Pyrenees. Crossing the border to Spain made me feel so happy!! Finally I had arrived in the country that I had been dreaming about for such a long time, whose music I listened made me live, dance, laugh, hope… And now I was there…!

And my first 'Spanish' experience immediately set stage… Just across the border I ran into a market. In my (at that time) half forgotten Spanish, I stumbled some words, and the fruit seller just gave me a huge bag of peaches, for free! Wow! This is what I have been missing since the Balkans… (or was it Turkey, where the people had been so friendly?) Singing (practicing my Spanish :) and a big smile on my face, I rode from Girona, Barcelona to Valencia. Everywhere welcomed by some warm showers, perfect to practice some more of their beautiful (but disappointingly difficult) language. And it seemed I had a guardian angel with an umbrella, since each time I reached my destination just in time to let the rain pass.

I had set my mind on the 'always warm and sunny south'; Andalucía. While passing endless orange groves (where the owners probably wouldn't mind if a lonely cyclist took some of their delicious oranges, hanging so temptatious on the trees (and with each new yard they looked even better…), my panniers grew more and more heavy. For this part, I was glad I arrived in the flat highlands of Don Quixote, Albacete, where no oranges would be found, only an endless horizon and (head)wind… At least I could continue cycling without stopping to pick and carry all those orange kilo's…

From Jáen, Granada, to los Pueblos Blancos, passing for the umpteenth time the familiar area of the Huma's de Abdelajís with vista's on El Chorro, it's Toothlake and in the far distance I could see Álora and its Hacho, bringing back memories and a smile of all those weeks (months) passed there years ago as a student. Camping on sport fields, going 'wild' with amazing views of Ronda, very Spanish in olive groves (woken up at 6 a.m. by the farmers, picking olives) and safely in the jardín of a restaurant; my last nights of this freedom I had been living for 16 months. Those last days I rode through the most beautiful part of Andalucía, to finally reach the most southern point of Spain and (mainland) Europe: Tarifa. Almost being blown off the pier, sand polished, I posed for my 'I did it!' pic.

A memorable moment, since for me it implied a transition from my nomadic life, which had become so familiar and careless for me, not having to think about anything, except where to go tomorrow and having enough food, to a sedentary one. Maybe kind of contrary, but for me it implied a much more difficult way if living; instead of traveling, continuing, I suddenly had to make decision; which place would become my new hometown, a job, a house, making friends. But I had made this choice consciously, since it exactly is what I needed after all those months traveling. It was not that I did not want to continue anymore, but it was not as special as 16 month ago. And that was a pity, since for me traveling should be special, should be about wondering, discovering, being excited, curiosity. So I reasoned I needed a place to live, at least for a while, to regain some of this 'first experience energy'. And the best place to fulfill those needs, was where another dream of mine had always been...

Several years ago, a friend of mine had given me a CD with some probably very cheesy, sky-radio like Spanish songs. For me, those songs became to represent my Spanish dream. I remember listening this CD over and over again, fantasizing that one day I would make this step and move to Spain. Now that I'm here, I am in my dream, it turns out to be a normal life as well (What did I expect???), a life you generally don't spend dreaming. But every now and then, I realize that I actually am living my dream, which puts a huge smile on my face! Little moments make me feel this; listening to the cadence of Spanish voices in a bar, walking through my barrio in Granada each time discovering a new Plaza, or helping an abuela crossing the street. And a few days ago, I found the songs of this old CD of mine, and while listening, tears ran over my face, tears of pure happiness! I AM ABLE TO LIVE MY DREAM!!

Finally, after being here for the 3rd time, I cycle the highest paved road in Europe: the Veleta

One of the things that made me decide leaving my old life and starting my adventures, was a poem of an old woman, looking back at her life, regretting all the things she didn't do (I have inserted this poem below). This, I decided, would not be me. And since there is no need to wait for the 'perfect moment' to take this decision, I just did it: I stepped out of my old life and started to live the dreams I had. The first one turned out to be pretty easy: going on my bike 'around the world'. Just a matter of going, no planning. And as for my second dream… I am getting somewhere… :)

Although the Title says 'Al final de … todo…' this is far from true! There has just began a new episode, a new Chapter in my life, and who knows in my Blog... ?

If I Had My Life To Live Over Again

If I had my life to live over again,
I’d dare to make more mistakes next time.
I’d relax.
I’d limber up.
I’d be sillier than I’ve been this trip.
I would take fewer things seriously.
I would take more chances,
I would eat more ice cream and less beans.

I would, perhaps, have more actual troubles but fewer imaginary ones.
you see, I’m one of those people who was sensible and sane,
hour after hour,
day after day.

Oh, I’ve had my moments.
If I had to do it over again,
I’d have more of them.
In fact, I’d try to have nothing else- just moments,
one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.

I’ve been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot-water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute.
If I could do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.

If I had to live my life over,
I would start barefoot earlier in the spring
and stay that way later in the fall.
I would go to more dances,
I would ride more merry-go-rounds,
I would pick more daisies.

– Nadine Stair –

Best of the Balkan

Check! 6, 7, 8… countries within 3 weeks’ time! Bulgaria, Serbia, Montenegro, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, Italy, France. Where previously my counter had stuck to a similar amount of countries in 12 months…

With some pain in my heart I cross the border from Turkey into Europe, feeling like it was over with the adventure, being on ‘familiar grounds’… But that turns out not to be true; although the first country that I enter, Bulgaria, is one of the newest members of the EU, in my experience it is still mainly a poor country in development, nothing like the rest of the EU. It’s more a bridge between East and West, emphasized by the mixture of churches and mosques around.  And that’s positive! 

On the road I meet horse drawn wooden carts, shepherds with large flocks of sheep, old women in colorful flower skirts and headscarves (although different from the Muslim ones, they carry it knotted under their chin) many old Lada’s (or whatever the brand may be of those old fashioned cars). In the countryside life still seems be like in the Middle Ages (exactly as I always told my students, the potstalsysteem is still in use, with (in this case) cows overnight in the stable, their manure used to fertile the land, land along rivers is grassland and the unproductive land used as pasture for sheep or goats).

Entering a city, I step into the communist era, with huge dull, concrete structures, ugly monuments, but also a lively outdoor life with many people on terraces and parks. And to my surprise, German supermarkets all over the place.

People seem to be self-sufficient in respect to their food; large vegetable gardens with the most delicious tomatoes I’ve ever tasted, drying paprika’s for the famous goulash (or whatever), ripe plumbs on the trees to make rakija (so strong it makes me cough) one or two cows being milked twice a day to suffice for milk, yoghurt and cheese and some pigs and chicken.

Although still (the end of) summer and pretty warm, people are preparing for the cold, harsh winter; in many gardens I see bare chested men working, sweating, cutting huge piles of wood and the grass in meadows is collected in huge Barbapappa’s.

Needless to say I really enjoy cycling amongst all of this. And the fact that wild camping seems to be what everybody is doing here (I see many tents or caravans just next to a lake), contributes to my joy. I do just like the locals, and pitch my tent without any worries.

In the stable Indian summer weather, I am treated on several clear, blue skied days in a row, making me enjoy the tough terrain of rough limestone mountains at its best. Especially the Montenegrin scenery is a satisfying repetition of climbing passes, rolling down, hardworking, sweating and enjoying. I feel strong! This is how it should be :)

However, the oncoming autumn let already show a bit of herself; in three weeks’ time I have had more rain than in the past whole year!

Feeling this rush of autumn, I draw a straight line through the Balkan, spending just a few days in each country. A pity, since I would have loved to see more of this beautiful, warm and friendly region. Anyway, a reason to come back!

Then, suddenly, things go fast... From Croatia, in one day I cross Slovenia to enter Italy. And BOOM! I arrive in the western, kind of familiar world, where prices are high, every few km I pass another hypermarket, people are used to see cyclists so don’t look up when I pass, modern cars and people rush. But I also meet quite some (race) cyclist, waving a happy Bon giorno.    

I wonder how people here would react if I ask whether I can pitch my tent in their garden. But in that sense nothing has changed; still the same warmth, hospitality and care I receive! And as nights are getting colder, I don’t even have to sleep in my tent, but am offered a warm bed.

After a few days flying through the flat Po-valley, on a bright, sunny day I enter the beautiful green-red-yellow colored scenery of the French mountains in autumn, its peaks already powdered with the first snow of the year. And am warmly welcomed by Wout, just in time to let the first blow of coldness pass… 

Bread, wine and ... uhm Ramazan ...

It's 3 am, I wake up to I hear the Muezzin call; the last chance to eat... in one hour or so the sun will rise and another day of fasting will begin; 17 hours of not eating, drinking (or smoking, for some the most difficult part). My hosts for this night are still awake, I heard them walking around whole night. It seems their day and night pattern has alternated, resting during daytime and becoming alive at night. Not the best circumstances for me to get good rest, with lights and television full on. But hey, I can't complain, I have a place to sleep and those people are so friendly! Not able to really talk, but anyway they share their sober Iftar (Ramazan dinner) with me. I am surprised actually, when the sun has set and it's time to eat, they don't prey or anything, no they attack their food and finish it quickly. No rituals, nothing..

My previous story was titled 'Bye bye Asia', but somehow I did not yet want to miss the atmosphere of this part of the world. I didn't feel ready to enter Europe, it felt like going 'homeward'. So from Istanbul I headed in southern direction, instead of going West as I had planned initially. I layed out my route by the advices of local cyclists, except for the touristic must-sees which I wisely skipped, knowing that I wouldnt enjoy those too crowded places which lack in identity and have become fake Disneylands (Effesus, Sirince, Bodrum, Marmaris, Kaş). The longer I kept on going, the further I headed from Europe. If I kept on going like this, I might even end up in China again..

And those people all adviced me to cycle along the coast. And they were right! Magnificent views of crystal clear blue watered small bays shielded by limestone cliffs. Wow, this felt like holiday :)

But those views were not for free, I had to work hard for this beauty... a continuous up and down, up and down.. and no, not gradually but as steep as possible... Somehow, they only seemed to have 10% signs, but Im sure sometimes it was steeper.

And as if it was not hard enough yet, the heat and consequential melted tarmac gave even some extra challenge. It sucked me, slowing me down, giving the feeling of driving with a flat tyre. I really don't understand why in a country this warm, they have tarmac that melts.. I haven't seen this before, not in any of those tropical, hot countries.. And the solution they found for this problem is not so much better.. big gravels sticked to the (melted) tarmac, which when worn makes you bump up and down the road.

But anyway, it was worth this price.

Where in China I had been longing for some easy and relaxing countries, feeling that my tough energy had drained, now I caught myself longing for some adventure. Turkey was exactly what I had hoped for; easy country, friendly and hospitable people. But was it too easy? Even the toilets were so clean...

And every time I asked whether I could pitch my tent in a garden, I was invited in, given a comfortable bed or couch and dinner, tea, breakfast... The people are so extremely friendly!!

Of the 2,5 months I've been in Turkey, I have only paid twice for the night. And this where exactly the (only) two times I stayed at a campground.

Turkey surprised me in several aspects; I had expected the country to be pretty Islamic and thought that cycling here during Ramazan would be pretty hard. But both expectations were wrong. The first weeks, along the West coast, I merely met non-religious Turks. The only two guys I met doing Ramazan where Dutch Turks, who moved here (of whom one offered me some real Dutch food (rookworst and AH ranja) sent to Turkey by his mother in Holland, because he missed it so much...).

However, when I left the coast at Antalya and headed inland, I arrived in the Turkey of my previous expectations; the 'Kuran Belt' (as the Lonely Planet described it). All of a sudden the women were scarfed from head to toe, the cafés were filled only with men, some villages were deserted because of Ramazan and I felt very watched upon. I thought wearing long sleeves and a Buff to cover my hair would lessen the amount of attention, but unfortunately... Every second car (and all trucks) blew their horn, windows of passing cars were opened to yell something (few times I heard something resembling 'sex'..), and I felt like being undressed by all the staring eyes. Needless to say I didn't really feel comfortable in this conservative part of the country. The bad thing for me about those experiences was, although they were not really harmfull in itself, they made me loose trust in the men. I switched from my normally friendly and open mentality to my 'survival mode' in which I just ignored all remarks, didn't answer any Merhaba's but was silent and looked grim. But I don't like this mode, this way of travelling. Although maybe safer (??), it's also way less enjoyable, since I miss all the friendly remarks and nice little conversations as well.
So there I regained my adventure, but did I enjoy it so much??

Luckily, after few days cycling trough this conservative area, I finally reached Cappadocia, and it felt like a warm bath. I met the right people and they gave me a home and friends. For three weeks, together with Hami, a MTB guide whose house became my home, I explored the extraordinary area, discovered hidden churches, run through tunnels and over Balconies, mountainbiked in strangely formed rock formations, hiked in valleys full of butterflies and flowers and most of all, enjoyed the company of those people around me. I was having a holiday from my trip :)

However, after 21 magical sunsets with the panorama of fairy chimneys, castles and table-top mountains, the time have come to continue my journey. I have decided I don't want to continue further East. Now my compass is really set West, with my next destination being Bulgaria.

Bye bye Asia..!

I probably surprise some people by telling that at this moment of writing, I'm sitting at the airport of Doha, Qatar, waiting for my connecting flight from Chengdu to Istanbul. Yes, I have left Asia, but No, it's not the end of my trip. I will continue from Istanbul towards Europe. An unexpected turn of/in my trip, also for myself :).

I never really had a plan, as I have described in previous blogs. I always just continued in the direction I was going (with several detours). I would cycle in SE Asia, I kind of had in my head when I set off for my trip, 10 months ago.
Leaving Vietnam, and thereby having fullfilled this part, it felt logical to continue to China, although I never really had had the intention of going there (but Im very glad I did!). Once being that far, I thought I could also just continue cycling in the direction of 'home' (which I actually don't have, but anyway).
This would imply cycling through Central Asia; the Pamir Highway and -Stan countries, Iran, Turkey... I have thought a while about this idea, took time to let it sink in. But somehow, it didn't feel good, not being the right moment. I felt that for the moment, I have spent enough energy, toughness, to be able to fully enjoy those countries. It feels like this area will be a completely different world, a trip and experience on its own. And that, for me, inquires reloading energy and the ability to absorb more, new impressions, people, cultures, landscape, stories and toughness.
Moreover, after having traveled for 10 months alone, I know what it is, I know I can do it, but I also experienced that I prefer to have company, to be able to share, everything. So yes, I definitely want to cycle central Asia, but not now and not alone (anymore).

So i made up this new idea, since I didnt want my trip to be over yet. Closer to Europe, things would be easier; I could just pitch my tent anywhere, not being so special anymore, it would be easier to communicate, etc. Don't get me wrong, all those things were really part of the Asian experience, and most of the times I enjoyed it. But sometimes I began to feel I had enough, I became a little irritated or so. And that was be a pity, because it implies not enjoying so much anymore. A sign for me that I am draining my energy and have to refuel it (in easier areas).

So that's why, with some pain in my heart, some tears, but also a big proud smile, I left China a few hours ago. I looked back at 10 months, almost 15,000km cycling. That's quite an achievement!

Thinking back to the beginning of my trip... it feels that I have become a different person; more relaxed, more confident about myself and things, more trust in people and that 'everything will be fine' and a better bike mechanic ;) I still am my own selve, dont feel I have really changed, but do feel I have grown. When? I dont know. Why? I do know; because of all those very nice people I have met, spent time with, shared a part of my heart with and gave me part of theirs. The openess, warmth and ease, that is something I have learned, made me grow, and I don't want to loose anymore!

Travelling, especially by bike, showed and learned me so much; about the countries (all those places where normally no tourists go, but which are the best!), its people, cultures, tribes, customs, religions, childrens and their attitudes. The houses, architecture, roads, ways of transport. Nature, landscapes, mountains, jungle, desert, sea, islands. Monkeys, elephants, cockroaches, mice, rats, musquitos. Trucks, scooters, exhaust, industry, rubbish, polution. Cycling, surfing, hiking, climbing, running, relaxing, hammocking, chatting. Rice, local specialities, chopsticks, spicyess, bananas, watermelons. 'Potable' water, developing a strong stomach. Hospitality, warmth, friendliness, poverty, hapiness. Hello's, smiles, stares. Shitty hotels, fancy ones, homestays, temples, police offices, hospitals, camping, Warmshowers.Toilets, squatting, hygene, (lack of) toiletpaper, 'showers'. Warmth, HOT, coldness, sun, and luckily very little rain. Headwind, tailwind, climbing, descending. Good roads, unpaved roads, badly paved roads, roadworks, dust, mud. 2 punctures, 2 broken spokes, 2 broken gearcables, 2 torn tires. Continuing, also when it seems endless, because at some moment there is an end. Strong, weak, tired, painfull, irritated, the ability to carry on and be strong. And so much more...

It made me think, about how strange, different, 'special' I/we actually are, being westerners we consider ourselves as being the 'standard' against which we compare everyone, the centre of the world. But nothing less is true: after a while, seeing some westerners again, I also looked upon them like 'you don't suit here' (as neither I did...). No wonder the local people looked so strange at me, that white girl, 31-not-married-no-kids, on a bicycle, independent, alone, with blond hair on her arms (thats more or less the reaction I got everywhere, how people considered me..).
But meanwhile radiating this feeling I could conquer the world!!
And I did, partly :)

Highlights, Heights, High..

Litang, at 4100m, without heating, and at that moment also no water/electricity..

I was sitting at the central square in Litang, at an altitude of 4100m one of the highest cities in the world, overlooking the snowcapped mountains where I just came from, surrounded by locals (here being mostly Tibetans) who were turning their prayer wheels or polishing the beads of their prayer necklaces, meanwhile both chatting and mumbling some prayers.

Yes, I'm alone

Wow, I have done it! After some weeks of tough cycling, with passes up to almost 5000m, I have reached my ‘destination’, at least that’s how I have been considering Litang for the last few weeks. I felt proud! Actually, this route was something I was kind of afraid for, but also curious to; what would the height do to me, to my body and mind? How would I stand the cold? And how tough would the road and the climbing be? A (maybe more mental than physical) challenge, which I had to face from myself. I had been tempted to choose another route, an easier one, but probably also less beautiful. But no, I would have been a coward, running away from things I fear, which I realize I always tend to do. So since this trip is also about learning about myself and grow mentally, I wanted to do this! And I managed!! And for sure, it was the most beautiful part of my whole trip, both culturally and landscape wise!

And yes, at times it was tough, being above 3000m for almost four weeks. I took enough time to acclimatize, so didn't have any real altitude sickness.  But there were other symptoms; I had troubles sleeping, days withoutany appetite, a general lack of energy which gave me the feeling of apathy or not really caring. And then the cycling; a road that seemed to be quite flat was so hard to cycle, using my lightest gear and still having difficulties peddling. I was not really out of breath, but every now and then I felt I had to stop, to regain some energy (or motivation) to continue and drinking while cycling took too much breath. I felt I was High (because of the lack of oxygen) (or felt like being hung over..).

Every time I reached a pass (3500m, 3900m, 4300m, 4500m, 4750m, 4500m, …) the road descended all the way to a river valley again, around 3000m altitude, implying a continuous up-and-down, up-and-down… But the reward was more than worth it, lucky as I was with the weather of clear skies and sun, I had awesome views!

And since my day rhythm was climbing a pass, descending and doing part of next days’ climb, mentally it felt ok. Racing downhill, I knew I had to climb the same altitude up again (which could have been mentally killing), but that would only be tomorrow, then I would have a clear mind and rested body..

There were some really nice roads, perfect pavement and very little traffic. But there were also horrible parts; stones and dust which slowed me down even more, loads of trucks passing, creating a local dust storm, resulting in even more difficulties breathing and layers of dust all over me. And then, reaching the summit, longing for the reward of a long descent, nothing less was true… such a descent was maybe even worse than the climb…

My highest point (4750m)

The yaks of the nomads where I slept

Dry, bare mountains

At the start of the hardest part of this route, in Shangrila, I met Sophie, a Danish solo cycling girl. Since we were doing the same route, we thought it nice to join until Litang, to fight some of the loneliness and share whatever. However, maybe because we were both too attached to our independence, in the end we only shared the campsite, during daytime we cycled our own rhythm, which was ok.  

The mountains provided a perfect environment to camp, with little people and traffic (but many yaks).

The only thing I had to think about was that I had enough water for the night and (part of) the next dag. Somehow, the people here drink hot water (no tea, just water, and they can not imagine you drinking cold water, like they also can't imagine you not being able to read Chinese (sometimes, when I gestured I didn't understand a word of what they were saying, they wrote it down in Chinese characters. 'No, sorry, but I CAN NOT READ CHINESE...')).

This habit of drinking hot water was pretty convenient, since I could always warm myself on such a bottle of warm water (drinking I could not really get used to, always burning my tongue). And I found out that putting a bottle with warm water in my sleeping bag kept my feet warm during the night, which was very welcome, since the nights were cold at this altitude! Some mornings, my tent was covered in frost and the bottles of water I left on my bike were frozen.

A few times, I was so cold after a descent, I just entered a house looking for some warmth. I was invited to sit at the stove and extra wood was added to lit the fire up and hot water (or yak-butter-salty ('Yack..') tea if it were Tibetan people) and laughs were being shared.

Those are the best experiences, since it provided a look of how people lived, their houses, families and customs. I was always welcomed with so much warmth and friendliness! Also those times, at the end of a cold day, when I asked if I could spend the night at their couch, carpet or whatever. I ended up sleeping at grandmothers' shop, a nomad camp, the tiny house of an English teacher and police stations.

Arriving in Litang, I thought I was ‘there’, I had had (it with) the altitude and toughness. But no, to reach Chengdu, my true final destination in China, I still had to do 10 days in which I had to climb another 10000m (10 km!!) (on top of the other 13000m I had climbed). Maybe this was even a bigger mental challenge, since I really had to motivate myself again.

Moreover, although the landscape was still very beautiful, the road was more busy, which for me implied less enjoyable. This route, the Sichuan-Tibet Highway, was the route that hundreds of Chinese cyclists take on their way to Lhasa, and all their Ni Hao’s and thumbs up gave me some new motivation. And apparently I was so special for them that, again, I felt like a photomodel :)

And then, FINALLY! I reached Chengdu!! And I believe just in time, for the raining season seems to have started since several days…

Two months in China; two months being submerged in this strange, isolated, enclosed country with a culture so completely different from any. A country which I was kind of afraid to enter, not knowing what to expect, having heard all those stories about people not being friendly or helpful, not being able to communicate, etc… But no, I completely disagree with any of those stories! I might even say it was the best country I have been to, and for sure the most interesting! Ok, people where more distant, seemed to be less curious, which was great since they just let me do my thing and leave me alone. And despite the language barrier (I did not even try to learn any Chinese… I have to admit) I was pretty capable of communicating with them; I became an expert in imitating, which always caused a lot of laughter from both sides, and maybe this broke the ice, but people always helped me. (imagine, acting like sitting on the toilet.. , including sounds… :). With the young people, translation apps on phones worked pretty well.

I was surprised that, on one hand cities and their inhabitants are very modern(so from this perspective the country is not as enclosed as I thought), considering all the skyscrapers, the bars, the neonlights. But on the other hand, in their fancy clothes and hip hair dresses, people still wanted to take pictures (with their phones) from me, the white girl. If I have seen 20 foreigners in those two months, it is a lot. So from this perspective, the country is still so enclosed. Somehow, China has been capable of developing, creating a wealthy area (the cities, but also the countryside was way more developed then in any other SE Asian country) AND maintaining their own rather traditional culture, without all those leveling influences of our Western world/society. I am glad I have been able to see and experience this culture before it might be influenced too much by us and thereby become one of a kind…

I feel I have had this luck to be able to get some beautiful and intense insights into this strange, different, but fascinating country, its people and its culture. Although I've only being able to see such a small part of this huge country, I am pretty sure it's one of the best parts, with the (outskirts of the) Himalaya and Tibetan influence. There is so much more to see, but time is too short (you're only allowed to stay two months as a tourist) and I can't visit everything anyway, so better to enjoy those things I have seen and not think about all the rest. But one thing is sure, I have been 'afraid' for this 'Big, Angry Beast'  for nothing (again...); China is the BEST!!