Last night after we got back from Leshan, we decided to jump right into a must-do on our list, which was having the infamous hot pot in Chengdu. We went to one of the many branches of Lao Ma Tou and ordered some lamb, beef, vegetables, and mushrooms, along with the spicy hot pot. While reviewing the menu on our server’s mobile phone (since we didn’t have WeChat), I went over the different hot pot options. All the prices were the same across the hot pots for the same sizes, but the main difference seemed to be that some options offered a plain broth pot plus a spicy hot pot, while the others offered just the spicy hot pot. I told Chris that we might want to consider the dual option, but he insisted, “Yeah, but we came here for the spicy one, so let’s just get that.” I hesitated when he said this, unsure of exactly how hot this would be, but I thought.. oh, what the heck. Let’s just get the spicy pot!

The server came by to double check on the order after retrieving her phone, and she looked at both of us and gestured to me, speaking in Chinese. “Are you sure you want this spicy pot? It’s really, really hot,” she said to me, skeptically.

“Yes, we’re sure. We like spicy,” I said to her, smiling.

Our server didn’t believe me and nodded over to Chris. “Is he going to be able to handle it?”

“Yes, we’ll be good! Thanks!” I said back.

Huge mistake. And she certainly ended up calling my bluff. The food was so hot and spicy after just the first few bites of dipping in to cook some basic celtus leaves, beef, and lamb, that we were downing soy milk faster than we ever imagined. And the more that red hot pot bubbled and gurgled, the spicier and more ferocious the broth became. I alternated between water and soy milk. I was definitely hitting my heat limit. And Chris finally got to a point where he was sweating so much that he said that he couldn’t eat anymore unless we got a hot water pot to cook the rest of the meat and vegetables.

I sheepishly asked the server if we could get a plain broth pot, and she smiled knowingly at me, remembering our previous exchange, and said she’d take care of it. She ended up bringing over not a plain broth pot, but instead multiple bowls of boiling hot water. I didn’t fully understand why she did this, so we both started adding raw meat to the hot water and eating it. She came by and chuckled a little bit when she saw what we were doing. She then demonstrated to me that she wanted us to add the food to the spicy pot to cook, and then to dunk and soak them in the hot water to remove the excess spice and peppers. “You don’t want to get your stomach sick; don’t just add the meat to the hot water!” she said. She was so empathetic to how ridiculous and overly confident we originally were.

In the end, we survived. We didn’t eat as much of our food as we would have liked since our taste buds got scorched, even after our server brought over the hot water to help us. But we certainly had a memorable Chengdu hot pot experience. And just in case, we both took antacids before going to sleep.

I read that while most tourists who come to Chengdu do a day-trip to Leshan to see the famous Leshan Giant Buddha, locals tend to do a day-trip to Leshan to eat. So, we went to Leshan today to see the giant buddha… and to eat!

The Leshan Giant Buddha is supposedly the largest carved stone Buddha in the world, built sometime between 713 and 803 during the Tang Dynasty, and carved out of a cliff face along the Min and Dadu Rivers. The Buddha faces Mount Emei, famous for its tea and strenuous hike (which we didn’t have time to do).

When you first arrive at the top of the Buddha after a short walk, you don’t really get a sense of exactly how big it is until you decide a lot of stairs and get to its feet at the very bottom where the river is, and you look up. It’s kind of amazing to think that so long ago, people worked so hard (and very likely died) trying to carve this buddha out of a cliff face along a river. We are literally just tiny dots in comparison to this crazy structure.

Afterwards, we took a quick cab ride into the town, where we ate at a place known for its hot pot, though we only got a non-spicy pot and a hot side dish.. of some part of the cow stomach. This area is also known for eating all parts of the animal, and while I wasn’t 100 percent certain what I was ordering, we were pretty much eating all parts of the cow stomach during this meal. The server was really friendly, explaining to me how important it is not to waste any part of the animal and to eat everything, and also served us a special side soup. “This is a very, very special soup,” she said to me, smiling. “It’s very good for your health and we spend hours and hours simmering it!”

I had one sip of the soup and was sold immediately. That was probably one of the richest and most complex clear Chinese soups I’ve ever had. And I’ve had endless delicious herbal/medicinal Cantonese soups in my life made by both family and family friends.

So far, getting around Chengdu and Leshan has been really enjoyable. Even though our Didi app still isn’t working, all the people we’ve interacted with have been so kind and friendly, and the cab drivers have been friendly, chatting me up about where we are visiting from, what we’ve seen and done in China, and asking me about the U.S. and my family. Not even once have I felt like anyone has wanted or tried to rip us off or cheat us in any way. I know times have changed quite a bit since the ’90s when Fuchsia Dunlop lived in Chengdu and studied at the local culinary academy, but I can completely understand why someone would learn to love this general city and area as much as she did. Chengdu is certainly a large city, but it is small when compared to places like Shanghai and Chengdu, and people are just all around kind, friendly, laid-back, and honest: no assumptions, no stereotypes. Things move slower here, and people just go with the flow. I love it here.

Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan, also known as the “land of abundance” or the “land of plenty,” has been on my list of places I’ve really wanted to visit since I first came to China in 2006. As I’ve always loved spicy cuisine and pandas, Sichuan province has been historically famous for both, so what could possibly be better? Sichuan is home not just to pandas, which are native to this part of China, but also to the infamous Sichuanese peppercorn, otherwise known in Chinese as ‘hua jiao,’ which translates in English to “flower pepper.” It’s not the stereotypically “spicy” pepper you’d imagine from something like a jalapeño or a Thai chili pepper, but rather a “hot and numbing” sensation that is full of fury and certainly awakens your entire tongue, mouth, and throat. To date, I’ve never quite had the same sensation (and thrill) from eating almost anything else. It’s incredibly unique and intensely delicious. As far as I am aware, to this date, these peppercorns are still only grown here in Sichuan province.

So of course, the first thing we did when we arrived in Chengdu after a night’s rest was to wake up as early as possible to take a cab to visit the Giant Panda Research Base, which is about 40 minutes outside of Chengdu. The panda base is home to about 50 different giant pandas, including babies that are as small as just two inches long. We waited in quite a long line just to get a 3-second glimpse of them. I barely had enough time to snap a photo while a clearly bored and irritated security guard kept yelling at us in Chinese to keep it moving and not to stop and linger.

I’m not really sure what it is that attracts us to pandas. Yes, it’s great to see them because they are endangered, and it’s great to support a research base that is trying to help panda conservancy. But like koalas, pandas are some of the laziest animals that probably exist. All they really do is eat, sleep, play, have sex, and that’s really it. But there is something so endearing and human-like about their movements, their affectionate touches and interactions with other pandas, that always makes my heart feel gushy. They are just so cute; there’s no other explanation for my obsession with them. Before arriving, I read that in the summer time, the pandas are probably at their peak of laziness (in their natural habit out in the wild, they are at their most content at temperatures under 19 C, or 66 F). So if visiting in the summer time, it is best to visit first thing in the morning since they will be most active… as that is when they expect to be fed endless cut and trimmed bamboo. And given Sichuan can get excruciatingly hot and humid in the summers, when the temperature is too high, the pandas retreat indoors at the Panda Base to their cushy air-conditioned indoor environments. What a life!

Pandas, from what I have read, seem to encompass the “Chengdu way of life,” as Chengdu and perhaps all of Sichuan is known for its laziness, or rather its laid-back culture and general daily life. It’s common practice for people from all walks of life, whether it’s restaurant workers, white-collar and businessmen, to retreat in the afternoon for a few hours for their version of a siesta, into the endless tea houses across the city to drink tea, play games, and even talk business, but in a far more casual setting. Chris and I went from one area to the next at the Panda Base, and once, while I was watching a panda eat a generous portion of bamboo, he looked over at me and asked when I wanted to head to the next area.

Me: I don’t know… maybe in two hours?

Chris: WHAT?

Okay, so we didn’t actually stay in that exact area for two hours, but we did spend about half the day just watching these lazy, adorable creatures play, splash in water, climb trees, and eat bamboo. I can’t even count the number of photos and videos I got of these cute little things, and I kept playing the videos over and over again when we got back to our hotel. I’m so happy that China is doing its part to conserve its native wildlife so that everyone around the world who comes to Sichuan can enjoy these beautiful animals. I feel so lucky to have come here today and seen these guys in real life.

Before leaving for our flight heading down to Chengdu tonight, one of the last things that we did in Shanghai was go to the rooftop bar/restaurant at the Bvlgari hotel, which I actually learned about because I follow Fuchsia Dunlop on Instagram. She had visited Shanghai earlier this year and marveled at the view of the city from this bar. It was definitely a unique view overlooking the city, with of course, the Oriental Pearl tower and the Huangpu River, one that I hadn’t previously seen before, so I was intent on visiting when we came. We ordered drinks and sat at the bar during the fully booked afternoon tea hour. And as Chris noted, we were literally the only two people in the entire restaurant/bar who were actually having alcoholic drinks. Everyone else was having afternoon tea, tea sandwiches, and sweets.

The view was spectacular from the roof of this hotel, with both indoor and outdoor areas. It was late afternoon, and just a little cloudy, but still clear enough to fully see the entire skyline, as well as the Huangpu wrap around us. From this view, you can see a mix of apartment buildings as well as skyscrapers: cosmopolitan Shanghai — a little mix of everything. I spent a while staring out at this view and had a hard time thinking about anyone who could possibly look at this city and think it was not an attractive one, especially given the river running through it. It’s still special to me since it’s the first international city I’ve visited, and this view will be emblazoned in my mind for quite some time after we leave; I’m pretty sure of it.

The last time I was in China, I lamented not being able to visit Hangzhou. Everyone, from my local teachers to tutors to other local students I would befriend on campus, insisted that Hangzhou was one of the most beautiful places in China to come to. It is known for being a popular holiday and honeymoon spot, and because then, it was only about four hours by bus, it wasn’t too far from Shanghai to get away to for a long weekend. Hangzhou is famous for its large and stunning West Lake, Longjing (“dragon well”) green tea, and for having a good balance of both urban life and gorgeous nature flanking it.

Well, fast forward a few years, and a high-speed train system has been built that can take you from Shanghai to Hangzhou comfortably in just under 50 minutes. We took advantage of this during our trip and did a day trip to Hangzhou today. While the city was beautiful, with lots of nature, hiking, and yes, a stunning West Lake, what I took away from the day had mostly to do with our transportation.

Chris is usually a very easy-going traveler. “Keep it moving” is one of his favorite phrases to say during our trips. He doesn’t love it when I insist on taking five different food shots of the same dish, nor does he enjoy it when I linger and take about 10 different landscape shots of the exact same angle of a scene. But when it comes to little mishaps and things that can go wrong, he’s usually very relaxed… until today. His Didi app (similar to the Uber app here, but made for China) decided to randomly flag his account for “malicious” behavior, and so we were banned from using the app to call cars to pick us up. A sea of cuss words followed, plus very obvious frustration on his face. I figured, it couldn’t be that hard to hail a cab here… I mean, everyone else uses them, right? And my Chinese is decent enough, so as long as I know the Chinese name of where we’re going, I think we should be okay, more or less.

Yeah, more or less.

The first guy I hailed who accepted us charged us about 10 yuan, or $1.50USD, for a trip outside of the hiking area to the national tea museum… or what was supposed to be. He was friendly and chatty, eager to make conversation with his American-born Chinese passenger and her brown husband… and then decided to drop us off at a tea shop that does free tastings about ten minutes-walk away from where he should have dropped us off. The more I listened to the people around me, the more I realized that cabbies were just set up this way in the area. They weren’t going to take you to the tea museum because they were getting kickbacks from these tea shops to take you there to taste and buy tea instead.

The tea museum ended up being a total dud when we did walk to and find it, though. The area where they usually do tastings was closed. Half the exhibits looked like they were in progress of being installed. And the remaining ones didn’t really mean much to me or to actual tea, but were more about art work that captured how beautiful tea leaves are supposed to look. Okay… pass.

Then, we hailed our second cab. Perhaps it was a mistake, but I accepted a ride from a cabbie who already had a passenger and his toddler child with him. He asked where I was going, I told him, and he seemed to indicate it was in the same direction, so I figured, why not just jump in? The meter was already going, and I could tell when the passenger got out of the car that this was bad. The passenger told the driver, “This isn’t where I wanted to be dropped off,” and in rushed and impatient and rough Chinese, the cabbie responds back that it’s a short walk and straight ahead, so don’t make a big fuss and just get out of the car. And, when the passenger and his son did get out of the car, the cabbie did not reset the meter…. I wanted to tell him to, but I didn’t know the word for “meter” and didn’t want him to stop the car. He tried to get us to get out at the same time, but Chris insisted we were far, far away from where we were supposed to go. So I went back and forth with the driver, insisted this wasn’t the right spot, and he finally drove us to where we wanted him to get us… but then he ended by trying to make us pay 25 yuan, which would have been the fare for our segment of the trip, plus whatever trip he had going with the previous passenger. I immediately refused.

And this is when the real fun began. We started raising our voices at each other. I yelled at him and told him I wasn’t going to pay double what the other passenger paid because he already had someone in the car when I got in. He yelled and said a ride is a ride, pay up. I told him he was trying to rip me off and I wouldn’t tolerate it. He yelled back and said I had to pay him 25 yuan. Chris yelled in English at a far higher volume than either of us and kept repeating “No! No! No!” The cabbie didn’t even know basic English and kept freaking out, as was obvious from his eyes every time he looked at Chris while Chris was yelling, asking me in Chinese repeatedly, “What is he saying? Translate it!” I ignored him and never responded. I told him I’d pay him 15 yuan. He yelled that I was crazy, and frankly, the only reason he even took me was because he thought I was a real Chinese person and not a foreign tourist. He gestured to Chris — “foreign.” Racist slime, but hey, what did I expect?

In the end, I had little leverage because I didn’t have any small enough bills, so I had to have him break my 100-yuan note. He handed me back 80, which in the end, meant that he made me pay what was halfway between what I wanted and what he wanted. I still got ripped off and did not like it, but there was little for me to do. I called him a cheap skate and got out of the car while slamming the door.

Well, I guess all those Taiwanese soap operas I watched to procrastinate on my economics homework in college paid off. I had a real fight in Mandarin with a cabbie. And I’m pretty certain that I wouldn’t have had the same vocabulary to leverage had I just used what I learned in my Chinese classes.

Hangzhou was fun and beautiful. But I think I will always look back and remember the cab experiences there.

In 2006 when I spent a month in Shanghai, we did two day trips over the weekend to famous cities that were within driving distance of the city: Suzhou and Zhouzhuang, both in neighboring Jiangsu province, and both famous water towns that are well known within China. Suzhou is oftentimes nicknamed “the Venice of the East” or the “Venice of China” because of its many canals that make up the city. That, plus it is famous in Chinese history and culture for being one of the most scenic and idyllic towns. 

There’s this saying in Chinese that goes, “Shang you tian tang, xia you Su Hang – 上有天堂, 下有苏杭.” That roughly translates to, “In heaven, there is paradise, while on earth, we have Suzhou and Hangzhou.” In other words, Suzhou and Hangzhou are the beautiful places we have to enjoy on this earth; to the Chinese, these two towns are like paradise on earth. During my day trip here in 2006, we visited a number of famous, gorgeous gardens in Suzhou, and this time around, Chris and I also did. But for me this trip, the highlight was certainly the two noodle dishes we enjoyed at two different restaurants on the same block in Suzhou. 

The first place we went to was well known for its san xia mian, or “three shrimp noodles.” “Three shrimp” does not reference three different types of shrimp, but rather three different parts of the same shrimp that are separated and then put back together for your consumption while eating this dish. These local shrimps, which are seasonal for a very short period during the spring to early summer, are teeny tiny, just a bit smaller than my thumb nail, and are manually cleaned with an instrument that looks just like a little toothbrush, deshelled, scrubbed of its little shrimp eggs, and then degutted. As the final step, the shrimp bodies, eggs, and guts are all put back together and cooked, then served on a small serving plate for you. Alongside it is a bowl of dry, toothy wheat noodles that are perfectly straight and al dente, slightly salted with a few spoonfuls of broth to keep the noodles moist. Then, there is an accompanying bowl of plain chicken broth for you to enjoy, plus a plate of simply seasoned bok choy and a side plate of finely shredded ginger. 

The shrimp tasted like the ocean – briny, salty like the sea, with a good bite indicating that they were cooked perfectly. To me, the noodles were the biggest highlight – each strand of noodle was long and firm, and the flavor was just pure wheat with a hint of salt. Each bite required a good, long chew. This was so satisfying and worth the cost. At this point in our trip, this bowl cost the equivalent of about $15USD, which was quite expensive for China. When I looked at the cost breakdown, the real cost was in the shrimp; the bowl of noodles barely cost a dollar. 

Chris and I shared this bowl, finished, and went a few store fronts down to the second noodle spot on my list that is well known for noodle soup, with the broth being a “gao tang,” or “high soup,” meaning it is a superior stock made with the finest ingredients available. Unlike stocks made in the West, this soup was made from all fresh ingredients, meat, bones, vegetables, even rice wine, and simmered for over 10 hours. If the stock is no good, the dish would be no good. 

This dish lived up to his reputation. The soup was infinitely layered, extremely rich, with so many different flavor elements. You could tell right away that it was made from rich pork bones, but there were also flavor notes of seafood, perhaps dried shrimp and scallop, and even a bit of rice wine, onions, and other fragrant herbs. We ordered the soup with a topping of one piece of “big pork,” which mean that a massive slice of hours-long-simmered pork laid on top of the noodle soup bowl. We took a bite into this and realized right away what a treat it was: it was so tender, not even needing any chew. It was intensely rich, fatty, and delicious. The noodles were quite similar to the noodles of the first restaurant, but given they were soaking in the soup, were not as toothy as that first bowl. But clearly here, the soup was the main star, and the pork slice, as Chris noted, was extremely rich, “maybe too rich,” he admitted. It wouldn’t look like much from its photo, but this is one of the best bowls of noodle soup I’ve probably ever enjoyed. It is deceptively simple looking, but fails to be judged merely based on its humble appearance. 

While most people come to Suzhou for its immaculate gardens and historical architecture, I hope they do not overlook the delicate and refined cuisine that this city has to offer. It doesn’t look like much at first, but don’t judge its dishes by its cover. 

I don’t know what has changed more in the last 13 years — Shanghai or me, or maybe even both. While a lot certainly felt familiar walking through the streets of the Paris of the East, a lot also felt quite different. The streets are far cleaner with less litter. Fewer Chinese men are hocking up mucus and spitting it carelessly onto the street. I recall often seeing men peeing in the street here and there; it was pretty much a daily occurrence. This time, not only did I not smell the scent of urine anywhere, but I still haven’t witnessed public peeing. The air quality seems better. Overall, it felt fine to breathe in air, and I didn’t end my day by blowing my nose to reveal a black colored tissue.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, was on their mobile phones… doing everything from speaking to dictate text messages, watching movies and videos, to just reading the news. This is a very different world than it was 13 years ago. That, and WeChat is literally everywhere; even random fruit vendors accept WeChat payments here! They are more enabled from a mobile standpoint than we are in the U.S.!

The traffic has become… what Chris called, “almost boring.” In other words, it was not anxiety-inducing to figure out how to walk across the street, even when the light was green for pedestrians. We didn’t see anything that was much different in terms of driving than we’d see in New York or San Francisco. People were generally abiding by the usual driving rules we’d expect in the West.

I still remember being terrified of crossing the road back in 2006. Yes, even though it was my first time out of the country, something told me inside that this was not good. Then, ti didn’t matter if the light was red; cars would still go and finagle their way out. I remember having a conversation with a friend I’d made on the plane ride over to Shanghai about the traffic towards the end of my stay:

“The traffic in Shanghai is crazy!” I exclaimed to him. “The drivers are so reckless. It’s like they don’t know how to drive.”

“No, drivers do know how to drive,” my friend countered. “Have you ever witnessed an accident in Shanghai in your entire month here?”

No, I hadn’t.

“So then… drivers do know how to drive,” he chuckled.

That didn’t really convince me, but that conversation would never even happen today because the traffic flow has changed completely. Not to mention I was shocked when we got into the Didi cars (their version of Uber), and almost all the drivers asked (in Chinese) to make sure that we fastened our seat belts. Seat belts?! Back in 2006, that was a total joke. Even cab drivers wouldn’t wear seat belts!

Shanghai has changed. But I suppose I have changed, too. I’m no longer a travel virgin, having visited to this day 44 U.S. states, 6 Australian states, 6 Canadian provinces, and 29 countries. Back in 2006, China was my very first country I’d visited. I had no idea what to expect and did little research outside of my Lonely Planet book, but now before going anywhere, I usually do my research and have an idea of what to expect. Shanghai and me – we’re both quite different now than we were before.

During our flights over from New York to Tokyo and finally to Shanghai arriving tonight, I thought about the last time I was in Shanghai about 13 years ago. It was my very first time leaving the U.S. The only reason I even went was because I applied for and was granted a scholarship to study in the month-long Wellesley-in-Shanghai language-immersion program at East China Normal University. The scholarship covered my full tuition and housing at a four-star hotel on the East China Normal campus, plus side day trips to Suzhou and Zhouzhuang, many activities and banquet meals, airport transfers, and about half of my round-trip airfare. I remember feeling anxiety over whether the scholarship would come through because at that time, my parents said they wouldn’t pay for me to study abroad there: why would they pay for that if they are already paying my extremely expensive tuition, room, and board at Wellesley? They’d only let me go if the scholarship was granted. So I learned probably about a month and a half in advance of the trip departure date that I received it, so I had to expedite my passport processing and quickly book my airfare.

I remember feeling pretty resentful at the time of my parents. I knew they had the ability to pay for it, but they didn’t see what benefits there would be in studying in another country. If anything, they thought the idea seemed pretty fluffy, like an excuse to have fun being masked as “study.” I get that completely; most of the time when I see study-abroad photos of friends and former classmates, they are usually party photos that showcase people doing all the things they are unable to do legally in their own respective country. However, my gripe at the time was that my parents didn’t understand that true language immersion meant actually immersing yourself in the motherland of the language you were trying to gain fluency in. You will never gain fluency in a second language within the walls of a classroom; you absolutely need to speak the language in the real world, and there’s no better way to do it than to do it in that actual land.

Even though I scrambled after my scholarship was approved to get my flights, passport, and travel visa in order, I think in the end, I felt better that I was doing this study-abroad program with a scholarship. It meant I actually earned this opportunity on my own, that I was “paying” for myself to do this and didn’t have to rely on my parents. I still believe it is a privilege to travel; not everyone has the time or money to do it, but when you are presented with an opportunity to do it, you should grasp it firmly and go. That experience forever changed my perception of the world, as hyperbolic as that may sound. At the time, I’d always thought myself more mature than others my age, but that trip really made me realize how little I knew about the world outside not just the U.S., but my own teeny tiny bubble. I really knew nothing. I was unworldly and not traveled at all.

I remember the evening I arrived, and the first morning I woke up, jet lagged and not even aware I was jet lagged. I rose at around 4:30am, eager to step out of the campus and actually see the city. My roommate then was still fast asleep in her bed. I had small talk with street food vendors, some of whom I repeatedly saw and gave business to over the course of my four weeks there. Without realizing it, I purchased and ate my very first sheng jian bao (basically like xiao long bao / soup dumplings, but thick-skinned dumplings, filled with meat, steamed and then fried on the bottom, and spilling out with soup when you bite into them), and also started my Shanghai morning habit of having hot, sweet freshly made soy milk each day, drinking it out of a plastic cup wrapped with another clear plastic bag. Everyone seemed to eat everything out of a clear plastic bag here on these streets. Just that experience in itself excited me then.

Those are just the simple memories of the beginning. So as I recalled all of this upon our arrival, I wondered what this city would be like to me 13 years later. I’m older, a bit more experienced, with slightly stronger language skills under my belt now. I’ve traveled more and seen more around the world. What would be the same and different about my first international destination? What would my perception be like? Would it still be as fun and exciting to me as it was in 2006? Lots of anticipation bounced inside my head as we arrived at our hotel this evening and would start the beginning of our 11-day China trip.

We got to the airport and checked in for our flight to Shanghai, connecting in Tokyo, this morning. But as Chris was looking at our boarding passes, he noticed that while both of our frequent flier numbers were noted on the passes, his status was mentioned and mine was not. So he told me to ensure that everything was correct by speaking to the gate agent. I went to the gate, which was being managed by contractors (well, they weren’t Japanese), and the gate agent said that it was a mistake on the American Airlines side, and that AA would need to correct this.

Well, that made no sense because this booking was done directly via Japan Airlines on their website, so how could this be a mistake on the part of American? I proceeded to call the American Airlines executive platinum desk to tell me what the JAL gate agent told me. The AA agent on the phone checked my ticket number and found out that my name was actually written incorrectly on the ticket (it noted my middle name as my first name and my first name as my middle name…), which was probably why my status was not showing up. This would also mean that my account would not get the frequent flier mile credit unless this was credited. AA couldn’t do anything to fix this and said that JAL would have to resolve this, but the only way they could do this is to reissue my ticket, which would likely cost money… if not the cost of a full ticket. Worst case scenario, I would just have to call AA after the trip and give them all the legs I flew to retroactively credit my account.

I argued back and forth with the JAL gate agent, then her supposed boss, and it was not a good experience. They never even once apologized for not being able to help me and continued to either blame me (well, Chris is the one who did the booking) and AA. I was so shocked to personally witness such rudeness and finger pointing on JAL’s part at AA for something they had nothing to do with. Chris quickly pointed out that they were not actually JAL employees but contractors, and that we’d instead get this resolved when we got to the JAL lounge in Tokyo.

And… that’s exactly what happened. When we arrived at the lounge, I explained the problem to JAL workers at the front desk, and they told me it *may* cost 5,000 yen, but they’d see what they could do to help. An hour later after multiple phone calls and online checks and balances, they not only fixed my name on my boarding pass and had the correct status noted on it, but they waived any and all charges and apologized for the inconvenience. The JAL front desk worker who was helping me had the biggest smile on her face when she found me to inform me and hand me my passport and new boarding pass. I almost wanted to jump up and hug and even tip her, but I knew that neither action would be considered appropriate or wanted.

This is one of the many, many reasons I love Japan Airlines and especially Japan: everyone is always so overly polite and helpful and will truly go above and beyond to ensure you, as a customer, are satisfied. So many cultures could learn from and benefit from their customer service and hospitality.

I wasn’t sure I was going to enjoy this trip to Michigan for these three days because I was planning to travel with a colleague I’d never met before. We’ve been working together since January, yet she’s been camera shy when doing video/voice calls while using Zoom, and I could hear her strong midwestern accent every single time we spoke. She’s a remote employee based in Columbus, and I really had no idea what kind of person she was at all. All I know is that Ohio is a swing state, and there was a 50/50 chance that she would be a Trump supporter. And the idea of not only traveling with her, but also being in a car ride that would last 2.5 hours from Grand Rapids to Detroit yesterday with her, would be absolutely agonizing if I found out she really was a Trump supporter.

Luckily for me, during our first morning meet up yesterday, she started complaining about President Dipshit and in general, the Republican Party, so I knew it would be safe to talk about politics with her without either of us murdering the other. We talked a lot about our personal lives, where we grew up and have lived (she spent over 15 years living in San Francisco and the Bay Area), and our general opinions about politics, culture, and travel. We even spent nearly three hours voluntarily at dinner together at Roast, a Michael Symon restaurant that was attached to hotel we stayed at last night in downtown Detroit. It was funny to sit at the bar of this restaurant eating with her, as I remembered the first time I visited Detroit with Chris back in June 2014, we ate at this same restaurant and loved it.

When the trip concluded today with our final customer meeting and her driving me to the Detroit airport, I hugged her, thanked her for driving me all over Michigan, and departed for my flight back to New York City. And honestly, I felt kind of bad about my potential hesitations of who she was as a person. I actually had a lot of fun talking to her and getting to know her, but then I questioned myself and wondered… if she WERE a Trump supporter, how exactly would I have navigated that? Could I have handled it appropriately, especially given we’re colleagues and thus in a professional relationship? Not everyone I meet and work with is going to agree with my view of the world. That’s just reality. But when that time comes at work, what am I going to do then?