Asia and the South PacificDestination:

Table ofCITY PROFILES:How to Experience Adelaide Without Breaking the Bank by Ashlin Murphy

“Great Brown Cloud” Blankets Asia in Smog by Larkin Holtzman

Romance Gazes Through Starry Nights and Gleaming Lights by Maddie Tufts

Auckland Gets Extreme by Serguis Centanni

Beware of Bangkok’s Dangers by Jack Rowan

Travel like a Queen in Queensland with the Family by Claire LaGrone

TRAVEL MEMOIRS:Family Comes First by Jack Rowan

A Fishy Race at the Lomban by Serguis Centanni

Meeting His Side of the Family by Ashlin Murphy

Fighting for Equality by Claire LaGrone Ringing in the New Year in a Peculiar Way by Larking Holtzman

Keep Calm and Holi On by Maddie Tufts

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Maps of Asia and the South Pacific

Graphs of Asia and the South Pacific

Timeline of China’s History in the 20th Century

Asian Souvenirs

Six Recommended Destinations

Six Recommended Activities

VolunTOURism

Mind Your Manners

Must-See Movies

BOOK REVIEWS:Sea Cucumber by Larkin Holtzman

Fried Eggs with Chopsticks by Maddie Tufts

Buddha’s Dinner by Ashlin Murphy

Sunburned Country by Jack Rowan

Smoking Mirror by Serguis Centanni

Women of the Silk by Claire LaGrone

ContentsPage 24

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[1]

by A. Murphy

[2]

5

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[4]

[5]

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8

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[8]

6

Travel Memoirs

Finally, I’m off that horrible plane, 14 hours of sheer hell. Not only was I crammed in the back row of the plane with two morbidly obese people on both sides, but we were also delayed two hours before taking off, due to some debris from a plane landing mishap. Luckily, everyone on that flight was alright. I had a direct flight from New York to Beijing, but for many others they would miss their next flight from Beijing to wherever they were going. This was not a good start to the trip. Let me fill you in, my name is Andre Ruckus, I am a 21 year old Junior at Columbia University, a group of friends and I had a assignment on the history of China and decided to take some time off and see the Chinese New Year for myself. After I finally arrived in Beijing, I collected my luggage and went strait to the hotel. I stayed at Swissotel Beijing, a beautiful, four-star hotel that is just in walking distance to the big celebration. I checked in, gave them my ID, then went straight up to my room on the top floor, threw off my cloths, and passed out in a deep sleep on my bed. The next day, I woke up at four in the afternoon in an ice cube. I had fallen asleep so quickly I had forgot to sleep under my covers. I looked to the thermostat and it read 60 degrees, and I am not one of

those people that prefer cold over hot. My sinuses were very congested and my forehead felt hot; I did not care. I was all the way in China; I was not going to let being sick get in the

way of anything. I had eight hours until the celebrations began at midnight. I decided I would spend them getting a feel of the city and visiting local shops. I first stopped at a small, good-looking restaurant. I got a bowl of Chinese noodles then carried on to the streets where a small carnival was going on in a large park. There was a talent show with performers who could perform talents that were greater than any American I had ever seen do. They were doing everything from magic to stand up comedy; gymnastics, singing, dancing, everything. Also, at the fair, there were booths for food, games, and televisions. Anything I could imagine to be at a carnival was there. I spent the rest of my day there until I returned to my hotel room to take a shower and relax until midnight to go to the celebration. When I arrived at the parade it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. There were fireworks going off left and right, bizarre costumes of dragons and lions, streets flooded with people, bamboo burning (an old tradition), all to chase off evil spirits. It was amazing. After about an hour

Family Comes FirstBy Jack Rowan

FAMILY, see pg. 10[9]

of partying, I needed to find a bathroom. While looking, I came across a medium-aged man with what looked like a newborn baby crying on the side of the curb. I

approached the man and asked why he was crying. He told me, surprisingly, in perfect English, trying to hold back his tears, “My wife just gave birth to this boy a week ago. I already have a son at home and I don’t want to give this one up because of the one child limit.” I was shocked. I had no idea what to say, but I knew I had to help this man. I remembered hearing once that if you lived in more rural areas that you could be allowed two children, but I forgot why. Nonetheless, I told the man this and he seemed pleased to hear it. He told me he would be willing to spend any amount of money to keep this child, but he needed my help finding land to buy. Being a Good Samaritan, I decided to help him out and meet up with him at that spot the next day at eight in the morning. I had set the hotel alarm clock for six, and when it went off I had habitually hit snooze like I do every morning for those four extra minutes of sleep. Little did I know, according to these alarm clocks, the snooze means alarm is off until the next morning. I had slept until 7:45 a.m. While half asleep, I realized that I had to meet that man at eight. I threw on my clothes and rushed to that spot where I had meet him. When I got there, I saw him sleeping, alone, in a car. I was expecting him to own a piece of dirt car, I found my self surprised when he had a 1995 BMW; not a particularly nice car, but for these people it was like a Ferrari. I woke him, asked him if he was alright, he replied with “yes, yes I’m fine, I slept here to make sure I would not miss you.” I could not help but feel guilty. The man told me we could use his car, and we got in and were on our way. While taking an hour long our ride to the countryside, I managed to learn a ton about this man.

His name is Bai Chang. He owns a KFC, a particularly successful business in downtown Beijing. He loves his family more than himself. Overall, he is pretty well off.

When we arrived in the countryside, it seemed like forever before we found a place for sale. There was a 30-acre farm with a small house and a small cornfield. It was perfect. Bai asked me how I felt. I told him it seemed great to me, but it was all his decision. It cost $200,000, and whether that was all of his savings or a small portion, it didn’t matter to him; he bought it in a heartbeat. I didn’t know why he wanted me there a still never have found out. I think he simply just wanted company or an opinion on what

to buy. Either way, I’m happy I could help.In the carried back, Bai wouldn’t stop going on and on about how happy he was and how great the land was. An hour of this was definitely an ear full, but I couldn’t help feeling great the whole time.

When we arrive in the city, at our first meeting spot, he thanked me profusely and offered to take me to dinner with his family later that night. A dinner with the Changs honestly didn’t appeal to me, but knowing my manners, I accepted, and we planned a steak dinner that night at seven. Dinner that night was the last time I ever hear from Bai, All I know is that he got to keep his second son, and judging by his personality, he is living a happy life. That point in the trip was a turning point. After that, my view on everything changed much more grateful, and I was happy. Regardless of a delayed plane ride or getting sick on the first day, it was a great start to my trip.

FAMILY, from pg. 9

By M.Tufts

Beijing, China

[10]

My name is Tim Blackmon. I am 24 years old and I am from the United States of America. I recently went on a vacation to Bali, Indonesia with my girlfriend, Jessica. To get to Indonesia, it took Jessica and I ten flights in two days. We stayed at a beautiful resort and I could not have asked for a better time to go. Here is my story.

I had just arrived in Indonesia five minutes before and I had already encountered a problem; I could not find the baggage claim. All of the signs were in the languages Sundanese, Javanese, and Indonesian, all of which I do not know. Finally I found a man that spoke

english. I asked him “Which way is the baggage claim?” “That way.” he answered. He pointed to the left of me. “Thank you.” I said as I left. Jessica and I made our way to baggage claim, grabbed our bags, went through customs, and made our way to the bus pick up. We arrived at the resort, and we checked in. We received our keys to our room, and made our way up to the room. The walk was uphill and very tiring, I was obviously out of shape. My room was very nice and I had a beautiful view of the island. About an hour later the resort people brought up our bags. The next day, after breakfast, Jessica and I went down to the dive building, which was on the beach, and we signed up for a snorkeling trip, that was going to start in a few minutes. The snorkeling trip was amazing, and we saw some really beautiful fish. There was about six other people on the trip. Between each stop, Jessica and I chatted with the boat captain in english. His name was Ridwan Jayadi. He was very nice and interesting. The next day was January 25th. The start of the Lomban festival. All of the island came to the beach, everybody brought cows, chickens, and other animals, everything was given to the sea as an offering for successful fishing for the fishermen each year. After the offerings, the entire island made their way to a bunch of colorful and beautiful boats. I didn’t know exactly what was about to happen, but then a woman came over to me and introduced herself “Hello, my name is Verawati Jayadi.” “Hi I am Tim Blackmon, and this is my girlfriend, Jessica.” I said. “You must be Ridwan Jayadi’s wife.” I said. “Why yes, I am. My husband has told me a lot about you. He speaks very highly about you too.” she said. “What is going on, and where is Ridwan?” I asked.

A Fishy Race at the LombanBy Serguis Centanni

LOMBAN, see pg. 12

[11]

She answered “Ridwan is right there, and just wait and see.” I looked over at the boats, which were more like canoes, and I saw two men walking over to the boats. One of the men was Ridwan, and the other was Suparman Lie (pronounced Lee). Ironically, Suparman Lie happens to be the town fool. Then I saw several other men walk over to the boats. Ridwan, Suparman Lie, and the other men all started to push the boats into the water. Each man then jumped into a boat and they started to race. I finally realized that it was a boat race. Each man was about three fifths of the way through the race except for Suparman Lie, but then Suparman Lie’s boat started taking on water, everybody on shore gasped. Then all of a sudden Ridwan came from behind and pulled Suparman Lie out of his boat and the entire island cheered. Ridwan and Suparman finished the race before everybody else. When Ridwan and Suparman came to shore, a man named Budi Oesman, who happens to be the prince of the island, approached Ridwan and Suparman, and congratulated them on their win. Then Budi Oesman gave Ridwan 100 Indonesian Rupiah, three chickens, one goat, and a sack of potatoes, for his heroics. The island police then went out to where Suparman Lie’s boat sank, and pulled the boat out from under the water and back to the shore. When everyone saw the bottom of the boat, they gasped. The reason that Suparman’s boat sank was that a shark took a bite out of the boat. The shark was most likely a bull shark or a tiger shark. Later, after all the commotion settled down, the pirates and the fishermen had a simulated boat fight, just like the reenactments of the Civil War. The fight, Verawati Jayadi told Jessica and me, is a reenactment of when the pirates fought with the fishermen, and stole everything that the fishermen had on their boats. The festival was exciting, all the activities were fun, the food was great, and the boats were beautiful. That night Jessica and I went to dinner at the restaurant in the resort, and talked about everything that has happened since we arrived in Bali. I could smell the food that was being cooked all the way from my table, it smelled delicious. The next day was our last day in Indonesia, it also happened to be Jessica’s birthday. Right when I woke up I started packing my bag while Jessica slept

in. Before Jessica woke up I left a present for her. She finally woke up and was very excited about her present.

We went to breakfast, and then found some shade underneath an umbrella on the beach. Later we

went back to the room and finished packing. Then later at around six o’clock we prepared ourselves for

dinner. We went to dinner and I had a cake brought to the table for Jessica. The

cake was beautiful and tasted amazing. After we ate the cake, I pulled myself out of my chair, went

down on one knee, and asked Jessica a question. Let’s just say I will never be single for the rest of my life. We paid the bill, and went back to the room, and went to bed. The next morning we woke up early, and headed to the airport. One day and ten flights later and we were back home in the USA.

Bali, Indonesia

LOMBAN, from pg. 11

Meeting His Side of the Family

By Ashlin Murphy

Throughout   the   seven   years   I’ve   been  married  to  my  husband,   we’ve  never  taken  one   trip  to   his   homeland   of   Loni,   India.   That’s   why   his  auntie’s   invitation   to   come   visit   for   India’s  Independence  Day  celebration  shocked  me  as   it  did.  I  mean,  my  parents  have  invited  us  to  stay  with  them  in  the  past,  but  they  live  in  Vermont,  not  the  Eastern  Hemisphere.   Regardless,   I   was   intrigued.   Ronnie  tells   stories  of  his  childhood   in   India,   funny   tales  of  him   and   his   brothers   dressing   up   in   their   sister’s  hijab,   earning   a   good   scolding   from   his   father.  Ronnie   moved   to   America   at   age   twenty   to   study  ecology   abroad.   He   stayed   a   year   longer   than   he  intended   and   settled   down   in   Chicago.   After   his  parents’   deaths,   Ronnie   lost   touch   with   his   family  living  in  India.  Soon,  there  wasn’t  much  to  discuss  on  the  subject.   We   started   packing.   During   those   few   days  prior   to   our   17-­‐hour   Klight,   Ronnie   paced   our  bedroom  in  circles,   I   prepared  for   the   trip,   and  our  

INDIA, see pg. 13

[12]

Kive-­‐year-­‐old   daughter,   Monica,   strutted   around   the  house   with   stickers   on   her   forehead,   her  interpretation  of  the  Hindu  bindi.     My  husband’s   family   lives   in  a  small   hut   in   a  neighborhood   consisting   of   other   small   huts   in   a  town  with  a  population  of  120,945.  Our  plane  arrived  in   Delhi,   an   eight   kilometers   drive   from   Loni.   Meru  Cabs  picked  us  up  from  the  airport,  and  we  arrived  at  our   destination   in   minutes.  The  hut  was,  in  every  sense  of   the   word,   a   hut.   The  bottom   portion   was   all  orange   clay,   topped   with   a  roof  of  twigs.  A  wide  gap  in  the  walls   took   the   place   of  an   entryway.   Inside   sat  rows   of   foreign,   familiar  faces.   Auntie   Gul   appeared  in   the  doorway,  greeting   us  in   Hindu   and   pushing   us  through  the  gap.  

Sudden ly,   I   h ad  jumped   into   the   photos   on  Ronnie’s   dresser.   Each   sibling’s   face   sent   a   different  photograph  to  mind.  There  was  Batuk  from  the  photo  of  Ronnie’s   graduation,   with  a   few  more   laugh  lines  and  a  lot  less  hair.   The  oldest,  Kalap,   stood  solemnly  next   to   Ronnie   in   the   photo   of   the   day   he   left   for  America.  And  baby  Ketan,  whose  only  picture  was  my  husband  holding  his   newborn  brother  when  he  was  twelve.  

Silently   lurking  in   the  far   end  of  the   hut  was  the  ever-­‐unforgettable  Shayna,   the  only  sister  in  this  handful   of   brothers.   She   was   strikingly   beautiful,  with   silky   black   hair   Klowing   down   her   back   like   a  river.  Her   dark   eyebrows   arched   into   an   everlasting  question,  an  unending  look  of  disbelief.  Her  ruby  lips  

curved   into   a   miniscule   smile   as   her   intense,   black  eyes  landed  on  my  husband.    

Immediately,  we  were  attacked.   I  was  hugged,  petted,   and   kissed.   I   held  on   tight   to  my   daughter’s  hand,  but  soon  the  charming  Batuk  lifted  her  into  the  air   against  my   command.   She   squealed   and  giggled  until   she   drooled   onto   her   uncle.   With   a   chuckle,  Batuk   placed   her   down   with   her   cousins   in   one  corner.   He   smiled   at  me,   and   I   noticed   his   missing  front   tooth.   Ronnie   told  me   of   the   time   the   two   of  them  roughhoused  until  Batuk  had  lost  his  tooth  and  

Ronnie   had   busted   his  cheek.  It  was  all  in  good  fun,  he  had  said.  Shayna  had  snaked  her  way  to   the   front   and   was  soaking   up   her   brother’s  presence.   Shayna   used   to  be   Ronnie’s   pride   and   joy.  He   did   everything   for   his  sister,   more   than  the  other  brothers   ever   would.   She  was   smart ,   gorgeous ,  i r r e s i s t i b l e   y e t  unobtainable   by   men.   He  

described   her   in   many  different   ways,   but   those   characteristics   didn’t  suggest   the   look   she   was   giving   me   over   Ronnie’s  

shoulder.   It  was   cold  and  warning.  Her   sunless   eyes  bore  into  mine,  and  her  teeth  snuck  out  of  her  lips.   It  was  threatening  and  terrifying.

My   husband   came   to   my   side   and   began  introducing  me  to  people  I  felt  I  already  knew.  Before  I   knew   it,   we   were   handed   a  mat   and   blanket   and  assigned   the   only   vacant   spot   on   the   Kloor.   Ronnie,  Monica,   and  I  Klatten  our  bodies  against  one  another  

INDIA, from pg. 12

INDIA, see pg. 14[13]

in  order   to  all   Kit  on  the  mat  and  have  enough  blanket  to  cover  our  torsos.  It  was   in   this   moment   I   realized  why  my  husband  had  left   India,  family  and  all.

The  next  day  was  August  15th,  the  60th  anniversary  of  India  winning  its  

independence   from   almost   100   years  under   British  rule.   I   noticed  the   family   dressed  up   for   the   festivities,   the   woman   wearing   the  traditional   sarees   dresses   and   men   in   their   tunics  and   airy   pants.   I   was   thankful   my   husband   was  wearing   jeans   and   a   Polo   shirt   like   me.   I   helped  Monica   into   her   Kloral   dress,   and   we   were   off.  Starting   the  day   off  early,   we   began   our   eight-­‐miles  voyage   to   the   country’s   capital.   I   arrive   exhausted  and  excited.  

The  festivities  began  with  the  Prime  Minister  giving   a   speech   to   the   entire   nation.   I   didn’t  understand  a  word  of  it,  but  Ronnie  wouldn’t  take  his  eyes   off  him,   so   I   attempted  keep  up.   About   twenty  minutes   into  the  sermon,  I  began  to  hunt  for  Monica.  I  searched,  but  that  pink   Klowery  dress  was  nowhere  in   sight.   I   called  her   name,   and  Auntie  Gul   watched  me  with  concern.   I  tried  to  explain  that  my  daughter  was  missing,  but  she  only  shook  her  head,   indicating  that  she  didn’t  understand  me.  Fifteen  more  minutes  of   this   scavenger   hunt,   and   I   started   to   panic.   We  were  crammed  in  a  crowd  of  hundreds   of  strangers.  My  little  Kive-­‐year-­‐old  could  be  anywhere.  

Beads  of  sweat  rolled  down  my  temples.  I  had  run   so   deep   into   the   mob,   I   couldn’t   even   track  Ronnie  anymore.  She  was  lost.   I  was   lost.  This  was  a  nightmare.  

A   recognizable   face   approached  me.   Heavily  ringed   Kingers   unlovingly   clutched   my   daughter’s  hand.  I  ran  to  Shayna  and  tried  every  way  possible  to  thank   her,  but   all   I   could  do  was   cry   and  look  like   a  buffoon.   Shayna   guided  us   back   to   our  herd.   Before  leaving  Ronnie   to   deal   with  his   hysterical  wife,   she  muttered,   “She   said   she   saw   a   llama.”   I   was   too  emotionally  strained  to  be  perplexed  by  her  English.  

The  parade  rolled  by,   the  military  and  police  walked   the   capitol’s   streets,   dancers   swirled   and  galloped.  I  held  Monica  in  my  arms  the  whole  time.  

We   returned   home   just   after   sunset.   Ronnie  and   the   rest   of   the   clan   sauntered   inside  immediately.   I  stayed  behind  when  I  noticed  Shayna  resting  against  the  wall  of  the  hut.

“I  wanted  to  thank  you  for  Kinding  Monica.”After  a  minute  of  silence,   I  began  to  wonder  

if  I  had  hallucinated  her  speaking  English.  I  had  been  a  little  frazzled  after  all.

“I   do   not   hate   you.   I   hate   Ronak   for   staying  away.”  I  knew  her  voice.   It  was  Ronnie’s  voice  when  I  Kirst  met  him.  His  accent  has  faded  over  the  years.  

I  looked  into  her  black  eyes  and  said,  “I  know.  I  want  him   to   be  more   involved  with   you   and  your  family.  I  want  to  be  involved  too.”

“We  want  you  to  visit.  We  are  family.”I   touched   her   hand.   “Let’s   make   a   deal:   we  

will  visit  as  often  as  we  can,  you  teach  me  Hindu.”She   smiled   and   patted   my   hair.   “Welcome   to   the  family.”

INDIA, from pg. 13

Delhi, India

[14]

Fighting for EqualityBy Claire LaGrone

It  was  a   rainy   day   in   June  when  my  parents  Kinally  agreed  to  let  me  spend  the  remaining  month  of   summer   with   my   eccentric   Aunt   Chloe   in  Queensland,  Australia.    The  main  reason  I  wanted  to  visit   her   was   so   I   could   attend   the   Queensland  Multicultural   festival   the   night   I   arrived.       The  festival   is  about  sharing  culture.     I  have  only  seen  it  in   pictures,   but   I   know   that   bands  from  all  over  Australia  perform.    I   arrived   at   my   Aunt’s   house  around   6:00  A.M.     Her   house   was  humongous,   an  overly  generous  size  for  one  person.     I  walked  in  on  her  chanting   aboriginal   songs   and  dancing  around.    

“Hi,  Aunt  Chloe.”  I  said,  faking  a  smile.

“It’s   so   great   to   see   you!”  she  said.She  led  me  up  the  stairs  to  a  dusty  room.“Make   yourself  at   home!”  she  chanted   on  her  way  down  the  stairs.    

I  needed  some  fresh  air  from  being  on  a  Kifteen-­‐hour  Klight,   so   I  decided  to   go  for  a  walk.     I  was  walking  along  the  beach  when  I  heard  children’s  voices.

“You  aren’t  welcome  here,  so  just  go  home!”  a  tall,  pale  boy  said  in  a  slurred  Australian  accent.  

“Me  mum  told  me   to   collect   20  seashells.     I  will   be   gone   as   soon   as   I   Kind   enough   shells.”   An  aboriginal,   dark   skinned   boy  who   looked   to   be   around  fourteen  responded.  

“Go  now!”    the  pale  boy  yelled.I  had  never  seen  a  teenage  boy  be   so   cruel   before.     I   knew   it  was  not  my  place  to  speak,  but  I  could  not  resist.

“Look,   this   isn’t   the  

1800’s,   if  he  wants  to  collect  seashells  here  he  can.”  I  said  to  the  pale  boy.     “And  who  are  you?”  the  pale  boy  responded.

“That’s   irrelevant.    My  point   is   we   live   in   a  world  where  everyone  is  equal.”  I  said  conKidently.  I  did  not  realize  how  cheesy  I  sounded  until  an  hour  later  while  I  was  replaying  the  conversation   in  my  head.

The   pale   boy   stomped   off  mumbling   in   a   language   I   was  not  aware  existed.    I  introduced  myself  to  the  aboriginal  boy.  “Hey,   I’m  Jane.     I’m  staying  here  this   summer   with   my   Aunt,  Chloe   Raine.     She   lives   around  the  corner.”  I  said.The   boy   did   not   speak,   so   I  repeated   what   I   had   said   but  

much  slower.    “I’m   Zane,   thanks   for   helping   me,   but   I   really  should   be   going   or   me   mum   will   be   angry   with  me.”  he  said.

“Wait,  can  I  come?”  I  pleaded.“I  guess.”    He  said.We  walked  about  a  mile  along  the  beach  until  

we  reached  a  rundown  shack.  When  I  walked  in,   I  was   surprised   to   smell   freshly   baked   Lamington  cakes  on  a  rack.  Lamington  cakes  are  an  Australian  delicacy.    

“Hi  mum.”  Zane  said.“Who’s   your   friend?”   she  said   while   examining   my  appearance.“Hi,  I’m  Jane.”  I  said.      “And  how   do   you   two   know  each  other?”    She  asked.“Um   well,   I  was   walking   on  the   beach   when…”   I   said  

EQUALITY, see pg. 16[15]

shakily.“When  she  dropped  her  necklace  in  

the   water   and   I   helped   her   get   it   back.”    Zane  jumped  in  the  conversation.  

Zane’s  Mom  was  suspicious  of  the   story.    She  left   the   shack   an  hour   later  and   told  Zane  and  me  to   Kinish  dinner.     As  soon  as   she   left,   I   attacked  Zane  with  questions.

“Why’d  you  lie  to  her?”  I  said.“Me  mum  has  enough  on  her  mind   I   don’t   want   to  bother   her  with  silly   complaints.”     Zane   responded  defensively.    

“It’s  not  silly.      That  kid  was  so  mean  to  you.    Your  mom,  mum  whatever,  would  want   to  know.”     I  said.

“That   kids   name   is   Lewis   and   he   is   the  governor’s  son.”    He  said  waiting  to  see  how  I  would  react.

“Just   because   Lewis   is   the   governor’s   son  doesn’t   mean   he   can   treat   you   like   that.”   I   said  furiously.

“You’ve   only   been   her   for   Kive   hours.     You  don’t   know   anything   about   Queensland   or   the  people  who  live  in  this  area.”    He  said.

I  was  silent.  He  was   right.   I  did  not   know  anything  about   the   people   who   live   here   or   what   they  believed.     However,   I   did   know   I   did   not   like   it.        “Yeah  your   right.     I  don’t  know   about  this  area  and  what   they   believe,   but   I   know  what   they  believe   is  

wrong.     I   have   to   stop  this.   I’m   going   to   stop   this.”   I   said  enthusiastically.

“And   what   do   you   plan   to   do?”   Zane  questioned.

I  was  gone  before  he  could  Kinish  his  sentence.    I  ran  to  my  Aunt’s  house  as  fast  as  I  could.    I   couldn’t  do  anything.   I   had  to   deal  with   it.     That  night  was   the  annual  Queensland  Multi  Cultural  Festival.    I  thought  it  would  take  my  mind  off  Zane  and  Lewis.      I  arrived  at  7:00  P.M,  an  hour  after  the  festival  started.    

The  festival  was  amazing.  There  was  a  grand  stage,  a  roller   coaster,   a   Ferris   wheel,   and   so   much  more   I  could  see  the  stars  sparkling  in  the  misty  sky.    I  lost  focus   staring   at   their   incredible   beauty.       I  walked  closer   to   the   stage.   A   man   named,   Damon  introduced  himself  as   the   governor.   His   son,   Lewis  walked  up  next  to  him.    I  walked  around  for  a  while  until   I   saw   a   group   of   white   kids   taunting   an  aboriginal  family  of  eight.  

             “Look  who   it  is,   the  outcasts.   ”  said  a  scrawny  white  boy.              “No  one  wants  you  here.  Just  go  home.”    Another  boy  said.  

               A  horrible  pit  swirled  around  in  my  stomach.  I  realized   that   the   aboriginal   children   all   over  Queensland  were  being  mistreated.   They   were   not  even   safe   at   a   community   fair.     History   was  repeating  itself  and  I  was  a  bystander.   This  was  like  the  1900’s  when  the  native  people  were  mistreated.    I  searched  the  crowd  for  Zane.    When  I  found  him,   I  ran  over  to  him  and  I  told  him  about  what  I  had  just  witnessed.                    “What  are  we  going  to  do?”  I  asked  Zane.                “There’s  nothing  we  can  do.”  He  said.

EQUALITY, from pg. 15

EQUALITY, see pg. 21

AustraliaQueensland,

By S. Centanni[16]

Ringing in the New Year in a Peculiar Way

As soon as I stepped out of the airport in Bangkok, a blast of hot air kicked me in the face. I should’ve expected the extreme heat. After all, April is Thailand’s hottest month of the year. It is also the time for the Songkran Festival. I had heard about Songkran from my mother, Grace, who had spent four years in Southern Asia tending to malnourished children in poor cities. She had told me about the festival, which celebrated the New Year with massive water fights when I was 14, and seven years later, I was still interested. So, after months of planning for my short two week trip, I had finally arrived in Thailand. I opted to take a bus to my hotel instead of the more costly option- a taxi. As we drove through the streets of Bangkok, I grew increasingly excited. The sights on Google Images were finally coming to life. The giggling, barefooted children being chased by their friends, then chased by their mothers gave me quite the laugh. After a half hour, bumpy drive, I was finally at my hotel. Because I was on a budget, I found a hotel nestled in between an authentic Thai market and a McDonalds instead of a massive skyscraper in the wealthy, downtown area of Bangkok. Finally we arrived at my hotel. After checking in, I unpacked my belongings and went to sleep. A t l a s t , i t was the beginning of Songkran. I made sure to dress for occasion in a

tank top, gym shorts, and a bathing suit. S l a t h e r e d w i t h sunscreen, I set out to enjoy a day filled with water and fun. My research made it clear that the festivities were mainly in the center of Bangkok, so I began my way towards there. In about 30 minutes, I was already drenched head to toe in water. Children and

adults alike were throwing water balloons, and the older men and women were spraying hoses up into the air. It was the most spectacular event I had ever seen. Time passed, and it was already dark. The festivities had died down, and I was ready to head back to my hotel. I pulled my map out of the back pocket of my drenched shorts and gasped. The map had become so wet that the ink had run down the page, leaving nothing more than a huge black and red shape that l o o k e d s o m e w h a t l i k e a decapitated giraffe. This map was my only way of getting back to the hotel. In other words, I was lost in a sea of non-English speaking people, alone and terrified. My paranoia set in right away as I went from person to person asking for directions. Everyone either shrugged their shoulders or walked away, signaling that they did not know

By Larkin Holtzman

SONGKRAN, see pg. 18

Bangkok,Thailand

[17]

what I was saying. As my last hopes of getting back started to die, an elderly woman made her way up to me. “I can help you,” she whispered in a heavy Thai accent. “Thank you so much,” I exclaimed. I told her where I was staying and without words, she led the way. Of course, I began a conversation right away. She didn’t seem to want to talk to me, but I learned that her name was Kanya, and that she had learned English from an American Christian missionary when she was very young. Something about her interested me. I wasn’t sure if it was her dark, piercing eyes, or if it was the way she walked so lightly that it seemed she wasn’t touching the ground. I asked her if she would meet me at my hotel around nine tomorrow morning, and after begging her for a few minutes, she reluctantly agreed. I thanked her profusely and headed in to my hotel. “My husband was killed in the Korean War.” Kanya’s words left me feeling uneasy. I was sitting on a wooden chair in her tiny house, instead of being outside enjoying the second day of the Songkran festival. She had arrived at my hotel at exactly nine o’clock, and asked why she was there. I told her I wanted to learn more about her, and she made it clear that if I was going to, she wanted to be in the comforts of her own home. So there I was, listening to her life story. “Thailand assisted the United Nations in the Korean War, you know. My husband was a very kind man, always helping people. When he heard troops were needed for the war, he volunteered right away.” I didn’t understand how Kanya was being so strong. She spoke with almost no emotion, but picked at the skin on her hands nervously. I asked her if she had any children. Suddenly, she turned

around and walked into a d i f f e r e n t r o o m . “Kanya?” I questioned. Slowly I stood up from my seat and walked into the small room where she was seated on a cot. I heard Kanya s n i f f l e s o f t l y a n d looked at her. Her face was wet. The tears flowed out of her eyes like a waterfall. “ I t w a s m y

birthday. My son, Aroon had left the house early that morning for work. It was the last day I saw him. A police man showed up at my house and told me he was struck by a car and killed. The police man gave me a box and told me that it was thrown out of Aroon’s hands when he was killed. It was a beautiful golden ring. Aroon had paid a years salary for it. And it was for me. The ring was for me. My beautiful son, never thinking of himself, had died on his way home from buying me a present.” She buried her face in her hands and wept. I cried too. I told her about my friend, Olivia, who was killed in a car crash on the way to my house. I had called her crying because of a bad breakup, and being my best friend, she came right away. I had never let go of the fact that if I hadn’t called her, she could’ve still been alive. The rest of the day we spent laughing and crying, recalling the memories of the ones we had lost. Each day for the rest of my trip I visited Kanya. She grew more confident in herself with every story she told. But today was the day I was dreading. It was the morning of my flight back home to San Diego. I arrived at her house early in the morning to tell her goodbye. Leaving her might have been one of the hardest moments of my life. I hugged her tightly and told her about how she had changed my life. Kanya was an amazingly strong women and I couldn’t have left without telling her that. She had rescued me, not only when I was lost, but she had rescued me in a way I couldn’t understand. She was the reason I was finally starting to let go of my guilt for Olivia’s death. On the plane ride back home, I was looking through my bag for my headphones. I reached to the bottom and pulled out a small box that wasn’t there before. I opened it and a note fell out. Always remember how special you are. Thank you for everything you have done for me. I will never forget you. รัก, Kanya. I opened the box and inside was

Aroon’s gift, the small golden ring.

SONGKRAN, from pg. 17

[18]by L. Holtzman

“Don’t let the plane fall out of the sky! Oh, and have fun…,” Alden said as he and Woody sped off to go meet up with Iris for breakfast in their rented 1976 Station Wagon. I was leaving India for the weekend to meet up and stay with my sister in Bangladesh. This would be known as my weekend of peace. This was one weekend away from the soon to be college grads, who still acted as if they were still seniors in high school. This was the same Core Four that I had been with throughout all of college, the same four insane kids that put me into the stupidest situations, and finally, the same four individuals that convinced me to go on a back packing trip in Asia as our last “crazy” Spring Break. It was just a couple of months away before we would graduate from the University of Southern California and would soon after be going our separate ways. After conquering South Korea, most of China, and Thailand, we were staying in India for the remainder of our trip. We stayed with Woody’s old baby sitter’s niece, Rijuta, her 7 kids, and her husband. She lived in a small city, Ahmlabad. It was quite the luxury, and we were all really impressed with Woody for getting us this imposing hook up! (Sarcasm). It was like a bed and breakfast… minus the bed and the breakfast. My sister had called me at the beginning of the trip to ask me when I would visit her and her husband, Kurt. They

were going to be living in Bangladesh until the beginning of summer for Kurt’s job. I quickly

denied her offer and said I would not have time, but when I saw my new

home for the week, I immediately whipped out my phone and called her telling her to make up the guest bed. Before I knew it, I was on a tiny single engine plane

heading to Dhaka, Bangladesh for the weekend.

When I arrived in Dhaka, the first person I saw when I came out of the airport was my typical “Boobus Americanus” sister, Grace, dressed in an outfit that cost more than my whole entire trip. Obnoxiously jumping up and down, she was waving her hand written sign labeled: Cassie. She stood out like a sore thumb. I felt bad when I heard what she had planned out for us to do during the weekend, but then again, this was my week of peace, so I told her my weekend would just strictly be low key. Although I kept on telling her this, she kept insisting I go to dinner with her, Kurt, and their friends. Before I knew it, I was being hauled off to one of the nicest restaurants in Bangladesh in my cutoff jean shorts and Nirvana tank top. As we were walking back to the car coming back from the restaurant, we passed a giant bonfire with many different colorful people huddled around it. Grace

Keep Calm and Holi OnBy Maddie Tufts

HOLI, see pg. 20[19]

started blabbering about what this was for, but that was the least of my

concerns. I had been trying to get in touch with one of my three friends in Ahmlabad

to let them know that my flight changed to tomorrow night

opposed to leaving the following d a y . Trying to do this, I also had to pretend to care what Grace was saying and follow her at the same time, because if you took one wrong turn in Bangladesh, you were lost. I finally arrived home, and naturally, I plopped on the bed and slept like a baby. I woke up the following morning as early as I could, so I could avoid Grace and her neurotic, daily planned schedule. Kurt offered me a ride and told me to check out Old Dhaka. Not knowing much about it or where anything was, he brought me there bright and early. Coming out of lunch, I looked down the road to see a bunch of the colorful people. Assuming that this was what Grace was babbling about last night, I went closer to get a better look. Before I knew it, this little boy came up to me and chucked his purple paint filled water bottle at me, and I had become one of these colorful people. After I became fully covered in paint and looked like a neon rainbow, I found out that this was a festival called “Holi,” and it was celebrated on the first day of Spring commemorating that good comes over all evil. People were scattered all throughout the streets throwing vibrant colored, scented paints at random people and smearing colored powder on their faces. I felt like I was back in high school at one of those Day Glow concerts, where it was all just a bunch of sweaty, under aged teenagers listening to ear-piercing dubstep music while getting drenched in loads of neon paints. At this particular event, I felt like I was in the front row. I continued to play along in the festivities until I felt my phone vibrating and was unable to pick it up

because of it being saturated in paint. My jolly spirit of the festival of colors was briskly lost. I had no idea where I was and only relied on my phone to guide me everywhere. No one spoke any English, and when I asked anyone a simple question, they looked at me like I was speaking gibberish. Oh wait, Dhaka is the capital of Bangladesh, they have to have an Apple store. I later found out that the nearest Apple store was in Bangkok, Thailand, which was more than 2,000 miles away. I lost my cool and started walking in circles convincing myself I would find my way home. This was almost impossible considering I did not know where Grace or Kurt’s number or where their house was. As I looked at all of these cheerful people that were commemorating this festival, I could not help to think that all of these

people have probably been in worse situations than me in their lifetime, yet they still were so happy and learned to make the best of it. Sulking in my sorrows, accepting the fact that I would never be found, miss my flight back to India, and have to remain lost in Old Dhaka for the rest of my life, I decided to act like one of the high spirited Bangladeshis and make the best of it. I joined back in the festivities and continued to get bombed with more paint. One person caught my eye. It was a familiar face. It was my sister’s friend we had gone to dinner with the night before. She told me she would give me a ride to my sisters. Other than my sister yelling at me for not answering her calls, I was beyond relieved and so thankful. When I arrived to Grace’s house, I raced to the shower. As the radiant colors traveled down my body turning the water brown and murky, I remembered how unfortunate some

of the people of Bangladesh were, yet they still lived their life to the fullest and made the best of whatever was to happen. I wasn’t even in the worst of situations, but I did what I could. I kept calm and Holied on, and the best was to come.

HOLI, from pg. 19

Dhaka,Bangladesh

[20]

               I  was  not  about  to  do  nothing.      I  ran  through  the  crowd  before  he  could  catch  me.  I  pushed  and  shoved  until  I  made  my  way  to  the  stage.               “Um,   Governor   Damon   can   I   have   that  microphone?”    I  asked.            “This  little   lady  has  something  she  would  like  to  say.”  He  joked  to  the  crowd.            “What  is  your  name,  miss?”  he  said  while  handing  me  the  microphone.              “I’m  Jane  Clark.    I’ve  only  been  in  this  province  for  twelve  hours,   but  what   I  have  witnessed  is   awful.”   I  said  to  the  crowd.            “And  what  have  you  witnessed?”  the  mayor  asked.          “White  kids  discriminating  against   the  aboriginal  people  who  live  here.”           “Do   you  have   proof,   a  name  maybe?”  he   asked  trying  to  make  me  look  bad.            “Your  son.  Why  don’t  you  ask   him  what  he  did  today.”    I  remarked  haughtily.  The  governor  was  stunned.              “Raise  your  hand  if  you  are  aboriginal  kid  or  adult  who   has   had   a   white   person   discriminate   against  you!”  I  shouted.

               Thousands  of  hands  raised.      Two  men   in   tuxedos   escorted  me  off  the  stage.    Masses  of  aboriginal  people   left   the   festival.     They  immediately   began   protesting  against   discrimination.       For   the  remainder   of   the   month   I   helped  

organize   protests  

and  assemblies.    When  it  was  time  for  me  to  go  home,  I  promised  all  the  friends  I’d  made  I  would  return  as  soon   as   possible.     I   only   thought   one   person   could  make   a  difference   in   fairytales,   but   I   proved  myself  wrong.  

EQUALITY, from pg. 16

The Coasts of Queensland

[21]

Map Your Trek Across Asia and the South Pacific

[24]

Do the...

[25]

AustralianLanguages

AustralianPopulation

...Numbers AustralianReligions

[26]

Asian Souvenirs

[27]

Six Must See Destinations

The Great Wall of ChinaBeijing, ChinaThe Tsing Ma Bridge

Hong Kong, China

The Sydney Opera HouseSydney, Australia

The floating soccer fieldSingapore, Indonesia

The Sky TowerAuckland, New Zealand

Koishikawa Korakuen Tokyo, Japan

[28]

Six Activities You Won’t Want to Miss in Asia

The first activity you should do is the walk Great Wall of China. This ancient wall was built in the 7th century B.C. by the first emperor of China Qin Shi Huang to keep the Mongolians out of China. Its stretches 5,500 miles and is visible from space. Take cable cars up to the wall and walk with your family or loved one as you enjoy the beautiful ancient scenery.

Visiting the Taj Mahal, one of the most beautiful buildings, is a great family activity you wouldn’t want to miss out on. The Taj Mahal was constructed in 1632 out of white marble; Ustad Lahauri designed it. In Agra, India, this majestic building was built to be tomb for Shah Jahan and is wife.

SCUBA/ snorkel The Great Barrior Reef, the world’s largest reef stretching 1,600 miles and is 133,000 squair miles, was named by CNN one of the Seven Wonders of the World. There are countless colorful fish and coral underwater just waiting to be explored.

Watch the Philip Island Penguin Parade. Spend the day seeing all kinds of cute koalas, kangaroos, and seals during the day, then watch hundreds of small penguins march out to the sea to fish and play just after dark.

see ACTIVITIES, pg.

[29]

Visit the Giant Buddha in Hong Kong! Climb the 288 steps to see one of the most beautiful, unique, statues ever built. It was built in 1993 and took 12 years to build. Standing at 112 feet tall, this work of art attracts thousands of people each year.

ACTIVITIES, from pg.

See the ancient underground Terracotta warriors! A farmer was digging a well on his farm in Shaanxi Province when he came upon this mind-blowing sight: thousands of life-sized statues of Terracotta soldiers. These soldiers were constructed in 210 B.C. as a tomb for Emperor Qin Shi Huang.

Calling all of the Harajuku lovers!by C. LaGrone

[30]

Volunteering O p p o r t u n i t i e s

A unique organization worth volunteering for is the Go Abroad China (GAC). They visit local orphanages in Beijing and help the kitchen staff while caring for disadvantaged kids. GAC assist children with autism and other disabilities, and they help out with their daily classes, such as music and art. At poor schools, volunteers with offer to teach English to the students. These are non-governmental schools, which means the government does not support them in any way. The school board has difficulty finding resources needed to be educators. GAC helps provide those resources. Go Abroad China also equips travelers with a great taste of Chinese culture. When volunteers are not working, the organization, led by professional, experienced staff members, guides tours through China’s capital and participates in cultural activities. International phone call services are permitted; housing accommodations are provided. Many of the travelers are college age or just out of college. Each session contains of approximately fifteen volunteers. Language lesions are offered for those who do not know Chinese. If you are interested, please go to www.goabroadchina.org to send in your online application.

Philanthropists visiting Asia will be delighted to know about the “Environmental Awareness Project” in Nepal, Kathmandu. The goal of the project is to inform the children of Asia on the importance of the environment, to give travelers the opportunity to gain knowledge about Nepal and to help the community grow closer. This is a great experience for students that are spending a semester abroad. Join today! Feminists traveling in Nepal will love supporting the “Asia’s Woman Empowerment Project.” Everyday, this project provides women from all over Asia with hope of bettering their lives. Anyone is welcome to help teach the women of Asia the basic ways of life. These women are deprived and appreciate all the help they receive. Join this cause today!

Visit

an exotic

placewhile

making

the world a

better

place!

[31]

J. Rowan

by A. Murphy [32]

Our Lips Are Sealed Twin big-mouthed teenage girls are moved around the globe by the FBI after witnessing a bank robbery. In Sydney, Australia, the girls find themselves struggling to this new crowd.

Indiana Jones and the

Temple of Doom

Professor and explorer Indiana Jones finds himself in a remote part of India after a plane crash over the Himalayas. The villagers all believe that evil sprits have taken their sacred stone. Now that their children are disappearing, Indiana comes to the rescue!

nnnMark Salzman has always been extremely interested in Chinese culture . After taking teaching English in Changsha, China, Salzman has to learn to adapt to the new customs and traditions.

IRON AND SILK

Set in ancient China, this film highlights the country’s traditional mannerism as Po the Panda finds himself titled as Dragon Warior, thoughhe lacks skills in martial arts.

Kung Fu Panda

z Movies set in Asia and South Pacific that will help you understand Asian culture z

MUST-SEE MoviesA S I A & S O U T H P A C I F I C

[33]

A handful of books that will help you capture the vibe of Asia and South Pacific culture:

[34]

To  Ellen,  leaving  home  wasn’t  the  hard  part  about  the  move   to   Japan.   Being   liked   by   her  very   proper,   but  sick  grandmother  and  fitting  in  to  this  new  way  of  life  was.   As   she   meets   new   people   and   overcomes  obstacles   thrown   in  her  way,   Ellen  finds  meaning   in  her  mother’s  motives  to  move.  Filled  with  humor  and  a   pinch   of   heartbreak,   Namako:   Sea   Urchin   tells   a  story  of  a  once  broken  family,  whose  experiences   in  their   new   homeland  bring  them  together  in  a  way   they   never   thought  possible.

A novel by Linda Watanabe McFerrin

Experience Japan While Discovering Who You Truly Are

[35]

A memoir by Polly Evans

Expecting the Unexpected in China

From   Tibet   to   Hong   Kong,   Polly   Evans   travels   all  throughout   China   in   every  way   possible.   In   her   2005  travel   memoir,   Polly   encounters   many   different  customs,   places,   and   people   of   China,   each   having  their  own  story  behind  it.  Between  eating  noodles  on  the   bottom   bunk   of   a  mini   bus   to   a lmost  i nges t ing   dog ,   she  experiences   the   clash  of  c u l t u r e s   q u i t e  f requent ly.   As   th i s  English   lady   takes   on  China  in  a  more  different  way   than   most,   she  discovers   not   only   the  good   and   bad   of   the  Chinese  culture,  but  also  herself.

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The Struggle to Find Home

At   a   young   age,   Vietnamese   immigrant   Bich  Nguyen   finds   herself   lost   in   a   land   of  Mary   Janes  and  red  Tupperware  containers.  A  land  with  blonde  haired,   blue   eyes   civilians.   A   land   called   Grand  Rapids,  Michigan.  Bich  begins  the  live  a  double  life:  staring  at  her  grandmother’s  Buddha  and  eating  mi  soup   at   home   while   striving   to   be   the   perfect  American  on   the   outside,   the   kind   with   mowed  laws   and   their   own   bedrooms.   Read   Stealing  Buddha’s  Dinner  to  join  Bich  on  her  journey  deeper  and  deeper  into  American  culture  while  holding  on  to  her  Vietnamese  customs.  

A memoir by Bich Nguyen

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Journeying to the Land Down Under

A memoir by Bill Bryson

Join   Bill   Bryson   as   he   journeys   through   some   of  the   best   adventures   Southeast   Australia   has   to  offer.   Bill   Bryson’s   In   a   Sunburned   Country  captures,   in   great   detail,   his   very   different  journeys   to   ancient  historic   sites,   friendly   towns,  scorching   deserts,   beautiful   seas   and   the   great  history   of   Australia.     See   Australia   as   Bryson   did  while  he  was  visiting  the  most  beautiful  and  most  dangerous  places  to  visit  on  earth.

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Douglas Rees Creates an Artful Masterpiece

  Smoking   Mirror:   An   Encounter   with   Paul  Gauguin   by   Douglas   Rees   tells   the   story   of   a  fifteen-­‐year-­‐old  sailor’s  life  with  Paul  Gauguin  in  Tahiti.    Smoking  Mirror  is  an  exciting  novel,  filled  with   surprises,   art,   revenge,   nature,   and   love.    The   novel   is  a  great   read   for  young  adults  and  anybody  who  likes  art.    Smoking  Mirror  also  tells  the  story  of  several  painting  by  Paul  Gauguin.

A novel by Douglas Rees

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Go  on  a  journey  deep  into  the  silk  factories  of  China  while  reading  Women  of  the  Silk!

Gail  Tsukiyama’s  1991  Women  of  the  Silk  is  a  great  experience   to   read.   The   realistic   story   of   young  girls  being  forced  to  work  in  a  factory  with  little  daylight  is  disturbing  yet  enlightening.   It  reveals  

the   hidden   life   of   a  teenage   girl   sent  away   by   her   family  in   need   of   money.    This   novel   gives   a  new   perspective   on  the   exhausting   lives  of   young   girls   in  1900’s  China.  

A novel by Gail Tsukiyama

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Visit Asia & the South Pacific.