A few different locales could could to be the leaders in the movie market. The first, and most familiar, is Hollywood. You know Hollywood right? That patch of grass in the South that produces an astounding amount of blood, sap and crap (Pardon that, please). Even without the machinery of Golden and Silver Age studios, Hollywood puts out a pretty aesthetically consistent and reliable product. American movies are appreciated throughout the world. How else do you explain Algerians (Click here to read more…)

By Sara Hayden

I did it. I have officially become a “real” or “great man” today, by Chinese standards. I prefer to identify myself as a real AND great WOman, but I think this differentiation was lost in translation. In any case, I feel like a real human and quite alive.

To achieve this new and prestigious label, I hiked up to the top of Badaling, one of five of the Great Wall’s main stops. For those of you who don’t believe that it was indeed a hike and prefer to believe in the fantasy that it is a pleasantly flat, single story set-up, you will be sorely disappointed when you see the stairs that come up to your knees. However, once you reach the top and look down through valleys that end in hazy cityscapes or striking mountains, it will be worth it. Promise. (Click here to read more…)

Dear Internet,

I found something interesting the other day when I was browsing you.

It’s a column by the adequately witty British writer/TV critic Charlie Brooker, about the truth behind museums and history.

Charlie Brooker on Museums

I’m going to put it here and hope that no one notices that this post took almost zero effort on my part.

Love,
-Kronosapiens

By Sara Hayden

The glitter has settled into dust from the 2008 Summer Olympics, and the city is currently awash in a gray haze. Blue sky has not been present in the entire week I’ve been here. I looked out the window to see the sun. All that was visible was a miniscule, orange-tinged blur that melted into smog. This air almost has a physical form. I can practically cup it in my hands, blow it around with my breath.

I made the trek to the Olympic Park to see the fabled Beijing Bird’s Nest and Water Cube. Interestingly, though these are currently two of the most famous Beijing landmarks, a Chinese architect designed neither.

The structures are impressive in themselves. The graceful line of the Bird’s Nest would sweep across the sky if contrast between where the stadium ended and the sky began were more immediately discernible. (Click here to read more…)

I’m going to let you all in on a little secret: I only go to Europe for the Kebabs. Specifically, the Döner Kebabs. Those of you who’ve never been to Europe, more specifically the Germania regions east of the Rhine, these Turkish delights are huge. Incredibly cheap, from 2-4 Euro.

There are no Döner Kebab chains, because you cannot be taught to make them. It must be known, the the way that lesser people have aptitudes in science, math, or art. Döner Kebabs are sold in small stalls (shrines, really) staffed by friendly, wise old hermits.

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If it seems like every time a good thing comes along, I abandon you for it, you would be correct.

It’s been two weeks and I’ve missed you. But really, I can’t pretend to be sorry for something that I have every intention of doing again. I’m going to run out on you. It’s just how it works.

I plan to continue to treat you like a red-headed step child (I never got this reference, but my non-ginger Spanish teacher from high school thought it was hilarious). And the sick part is, you like it this way. Face it, I’m your best option. I don’t mean to be mean, but look at you. I’m a pull for you, anyway.

Enough of these sweet nothings, here’s what you want:

Two weekends ago, my friends and I went to Porto, which for you geographites is in Portugal. (Click here to read more…)

By Sara Hayden

Bejing huanying ni! Sound familiar? If you don’t speak Chinese, you probably recognize it from ye ole days of yore, the 2008 Summer Olympics. Still don’t ring a bell? Think of the ridiculously cute and energized mascots (you know—the bright little guys with arms outstretched for a big hug, elaborate decorative head pieces, and legs sprung into action that look like they’re ready to kung fu pound someone). Here is a visual to jog your memory:

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I’ve been a kung fu addict for pretty much my entire life. Growing up and watching Jackie Chan, I’ve progressed from mainstream cinema like “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” to the obscurities of the past like “Snake in Eagle’s Shadow.” I geek out frequently while seeing National Geographic documentaries, museum expos and watching movies from my constantly inadequate film collection. So it was a dream come true to return to Taiwan and finally train in some legitimate kung fu. At the time of this writing, I’ve been in Taiwan for about three days and I’ve already had the experience of training under two very different martial arts schools.

The first is a free class held every morning in the park by my grandmother’s house. They practice Qi Gong, and the class is entirely populated by older women. Qi (pronounced “chee”) is the Chinese concept of internal energy, similar to but different from Indian Chakra, Korean Kihap, and Japanese Kiai. (Click here to read more…)

It’s been a while since I’ve written. I don’t want to be a bore and list all of the things that I’ve done in Spain. But …  I’m going to, anyway.

Last night I experienced a Real Madrid futbol game and before that I went to the Museo del Traje, where they have an entire exhibit on high heels! Today I was at the famed Museo del Prado where I presented one of Goya’s paintings from his Pintas Negras called “Saturno devorando a un hijo.”

I spent this past weekend in Barcelona. My first impression was not so good. Right after the long, uncomfortable eight-hour bus ride, one of the girls in my group almost got pick-pocketed. We were trying to get on the metro but this woman wouldn’t move out of the way. She had a sweater over her hands … which was over my friend’s purse. She finally left the metro once she realized that we realized we knew what she was doing, but this left us a bit upset.

Barcelona’s official language is Catalan so it was a bit more difficult to understand signs and menus, but we managed. Our hostel was pretty clean and I shared a room with 8 people, some from Portugal, some from Greece, some from Australia. We didn’t do much when we first arrived besides check in, eat breakfast and walk around a bit. (Click here to read more…)

One thing I’ve realized after living in Paris for 5 weeks: the most amazing things you’ll see are not the things you seek out. Yes, the big tourist attractions are epic, but they’re so embalmed that you’ve got almost no chance of finding the pulse.

If you want to catch a glimpse of some real magic, see something really special; form a routine. This might sound like backwards logic: how can doing something boring on a regular basis translate into singular moments of being so radiantly alive?

Here’s my theory: When a person travels, they briefly (for the duration of the trip) decouple from the world everyone else lives in. Nothing is exciting for them because everything is exciting. Constantly stimulated in an unfamiliar place, all of the normal sensors go on the fritz. Is this guy offering me a golden ring he found initiating me into a European fairy tale? Or is he scamming me, his partner slipping his fingers in my pocket?

A somewhat ridiculous example, but you see my point. A spark and electrocution both involve electricity.

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