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2003 Christmas Poem
The saga continues,
a year has flown by.
The reindeer are harnessed
and Christmas is nigh.
The sneering bus drivers
who left with their tease?
They’re back once again
but now speaking Chinese.
But that’s jumping forward
which simply can’t be.
I’ll start from just prior
to 2003.
Colorado is where I
spent Christmas last year,
after spending the previous
Christmas ‘out here’.
It was great to see family
and great to be home,
but the feet started itching -
I had to go roam.
San Francisco was first,
seeing friends from the road.
Easing me back into
true travel mode.
Thailand was next
for great food and a tan
and the world-in-a-world
also known as Khoa San.
Cambodia - Khmer and
atrocities past.
A memorable train trip
which went less than fast.
The roads were atrocious,
the people, sublime.
A highlight was Angkor -
a step back in time.
Vietnam - still distinctive
‘tween North-South today.
A picturesque boat ride -
serene Halong Bay.
Shoulder poles, bamboo hats,
cyclos, ao dai,
and small rural pockets
that time has passed by.
And then it was China
a land that is huge.
Despite many changes,
still CCP rouge.
They hock and they spit
and they slurp and they yell.
Is this really China
or could it be hell?
School-holiday tour groups
in same-colored hats.
Toting around
one-child policy brats.
I’ve now been here six months
yet even today,
I scratch my bald head
thinking, “What did they say?”
Actual places -
Yangshuo and its hills.
Outdoor cafes
where one unwinds and chills.
The village of Ping An -
rice terrace display.
Rice ‘wine’ with locals,
another, “Ganbei!”
Animals too slow
which end up in a stew -
grasshoppers, pigs ears, a dog…
that makes two!
Anshun and its market,
minorities stare.
I sit by the road
have my head cleared of hair.
A boat on the Yangtze -
walk mountains - explore.
Nanjing’s sober tribute
to those killed in ‘war’.
The gardens of Suzhou,
the Bund of Shanghai.
Hong Kong’s many buildings
which reach for the sky.
The old town of Lijiang,
a nice place to stay,
though packed with Chinese
during National ‘Day’.
I next took a flight -
Zhongdian to Tibet.
My grin was enormous -
as good as it gets!
A walk ’round the Barkhor
then back to the square.
Colorful pilgrims -
the clothes that they wear.
The Potala Palace
stands silent - immense.
Reminder of policies
lacking in sense.
Tashilhunpo, the Jokhang,
Drepung, Sera too.
Mystical gompas
where monks welcome you.
The sweet smell of incense,
white scarves, butter lamps.
Assembly halls - dark,
where the monks sit and chant.
Lhatse to Ali -
bus ride of all time.
48-hour trip
which took 79!
Proceeded to Kailash,
a magical place.
I walked ’round it once -
sins of this life - erased!
Nam Tso - the lake,
it’s an auspicious year.
Numerous pilgrims
in cold-weather gear.
Tibetan sky burial -
sight for the eyes.
Vultures - huge wingspans,
which skeletonize.
A courtyard of prayer wheels -
elders with grace.
Their welcoming smiles -
a magical place.
Local friends that I meet
want to bring ‘gifts’ for me.
I’ve acquired a taste
for the yak butter tea.
Yak burgers, yak steaks,
yak wherever one goes.
Hands feed yak dung to fire
then they pinch mo-mo’s closed.
In Lhasa most buildings
are lacking in heat.
Wear several layers of
coats while you eat.
And now I teach English.
A job - can it be?
Please pity the students
who’ll soon speak like me.
Which sums up my year
written for you in verse.
I sure can’t complain as
it could have been worse.
So seasonal greetings
where e’er you may be.
Whenever you’re toasting
have one more for me.
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