Gadling

Faced with errands for unrelated items – body lotion, slippers, yogurt – I decided that today I needed some one-stop shopping. Visiting individual shops and bargaining down the price of each item would take me an afternoon.

So where do you head for one-stop shopping in Kunming, China? Wal-mart, of course.

The "supercenter" was pointed out to me earlier in the week by a local who, when I asked him about a sign reading "Kundu Night Market," told me that the Wal-mart was the new market, and that Kundu was now just bars and discos. "But watch out for pickpockets at Wal-mart," he added.

I didn't feel good about it (though I joked to myself about "shopping locally" -- hey, everything was made in China, right?), but I knew I couldn't handle running around town in the cold, bargaining for a bottle of inexpensive lotion and pair of $1.25 slippers.

What ensued was an overstimulating experience that was probably far worse than bargaining away a chilly afternoon. Following are five observations I made on the differences between Wal-mart in China and the U.S., though I'm sure there are many more.

I'm new in town. There are no mountains to establish my location. Roads don't follow a tidy grid. Pedestrian and motorbike thoroughfares duck under highway overpasses, with nearly a dozen outlets – or so it seems.

It doesn't take long for me to adjust to the manners of China - the spitting, the ear-cleaning, the belching. While some folks are aghast at the bodily -function decibels reached (and indeed, the Chinese government is trying to curb some of the habits, with a campaign -- in Shanghai, at least -- encouraging citizens to "be more civilized"), I view the experience as complete and utter freedom.

Gone is the pretense that I'm not actually stuffing my face. Gone is pretending that I'm just itching my nose. I can't belch really loud, but I can try. I'm a total spitter, which drives my friends crazy, but here I fit right in!

The biggest issue with some of these habits is that they're not very sanitary, which is why I carry hand sanitizer around with me. And true, I do get grossed out whenever I come across a huge glob of phlegm on the sidewalk, which is pretty much every other step. And I still am surprised when a tiny old lady lets out a huge, liquid belch.

But oh the freedom and joy of being able to let loose from the constraints of my culture - and without doing it the usual American way of getting totally wasted. There are limitations, though. A sign in my hostel informs guests that "anyone who defecates in the shower will be fined 100 yuan and kicked out immediately!"

I guess I'm not totally free....

Amtrak it ain't.

On a budget, with time to spare and feeling guilty about my carbon footprint, I decided to brave the train from Shanghai to Kunming. A soft-sleeper (equivalent to first class) wasn't any less expensive than the plane, so I opted for the hard sleeper class - three bunks to a wall, two walls to a "nook." It was definitely an adventure: following is a rundown of the 42 hours it took to get to Kunming....

4 p.m. Almost as soon as I take my pack off in Shanghai's southern train station's "waiting lounge," people start rushing out the door; I follow. I find my bunk and set about securing a spot on a shelf for my pack. I nod hello to the five other passengers sharing my area. Across from the beds are two seats that fold down from the wall; the only real place to sit are on these and the bottom bunks, since the middle and upper berths don't have enough headroom. There are no other Westerners and no one around me speaks English.

6 p.m. I watch the Shanghai outer limits roll by. At first I thought the window was tinted gray, so dark was the sky. It was lightly raining and the pollution left the air hazy. Along the tracks stretched rows and rows of vegetable patches with all kinds of greens. At first I couldn't understand why the patches were rectangles instead of squares, like on American farms, until I realized that these were developed on a scale designed for human labor, not machinery.

7 p.m. There doesn't seem to be any bottled water for sale on board. Boiling water is readily available, and passengers all have plastic containers that they fill and let chill. I only have one small disposable bottle, and am getting thirsty. I eat a protein bar left over from my flights and a cup of instant noodles. People are smoking, but in between cars so it's not too bad. Also, the cell phone noise and pop music seem mild compared to what I've expected.

8 p.m. I brave the squat toilet, and climb into bed. The bunks are narrow, with guard rails, so it's impossible to curl up. There's a tiny hook where I hang my glasses, headlamp, and, much later, ear plugs. The fluorescent lighting is garish and I throw my sweatshirt over my eyes. The youth in the next nook over are having a party, or so it sounds. I fall asleep to my iPod playing Elvis Perkins.

I'm schooled in squirming and shifting, shoving my toes in-between the seats in front of me, and generally attempting insane yoga positions in order to get some shut-eye on an overseas flight. As such, I've discovered two techniques that have helped ease my international plane travel pain.

1. Use a water bottle as a foot rest. I know it sounds strange, but it really works! A 2-liter bottle gives your feet some elevation and is easy to maneuver, but even the smallest 16-oz bottle will massage your feet and offer some comfort. I discovered this technique by accident on a flight that didn't have footrests.

2. Stick a pillow under your chin when you sleep. Yes, it is odd, but I'm a stereotypical head loll-er, and my neck is too tight to do the sideways thing. I stuff a pillow under my chin (occasionally folding it in half), and my head and neck get great support while allowing me to breathe comfortably. Plus, it keeps my mouth from flopping open. Try it!

On a side note, I recommend you try to get two pillows, if possible. One goes against your lower back; I always have a pillow there. If I can only score one pillow, I stuff a sweatshirt under my chin.

Happy travels.

You've probably heard of Denali National Park, home to the tallest mountain in North America. And if you've taken an Alaskan cruise you might have also visited Glacier Bay National Park. But a rental car and a willingness to venture off the tourist track will reward you with rich and wild experiences that many folks miss on a trip to Alaska.

Following are two lesser-known national parks that are a day's drive from Anchorage, but first, a fact: four of the five biggest national parks in the US are in Alaska, and seven out of ten. They are home to grizzlies, caribou, salmon, and eagles, among many, many others.

The biggest national park in the US, Wrangell-St. Elias, is accessible by car and about a six-hour drive from Anchorage. It's home to several 16,000ft-plus mountains, as well as well as the second-highest peak in the US, Mount St. Elias, which measures in at just over 18,000 feet. Once there, you can visit the historic Kennecott Mine, and drive the road to McCarthy.

I thought I would never move beyond curry as my favorite Asian food, but within 24 hours of arriving in China, a dumpling local to the Yangtze river delta is giving my complex curries quite a run.

My friend took me to a small corner "restaurant," a typical Chinese joint with a few tables and bright fluorescent lights. Baskets of skewered vegetables, tofu and meatballs were stacked against a wall; I picked out several and handed my basketful to a woman who dumped it in a broth to cook. While we waited for our soup, a bamboo steamer arrived, and my friend explained to me how to eat the Shanghai dumplings inside.

"They're filled with hot soup, so be careful not to spill it in your lap," he said. He instructed me to bite a small piece of the purse-like dumpling, and then suck the scalding, oily broth out. After I slurped out the broth (the most difficult part was reigning in the dumpling with my chopsticks -- I'm still a little rusty). I dipped the dumpling in vinegar ("It's good for you!" explained my friend), and popped the whole pocket in my mouth. What followed was a mouthful of savory, meaty and doughy goodness, a pork soup explosion in my mouth.

These particular dumplings are copied all over China, but are best in Shanghai. Residents are so proud of them, in fact, that my friend figures that the worst insult you could ever give a Shanghai citizen would be "screw your mother's dumplings."

Photo: Gary Soup, Flickr

This long layover is my third at Incheon International Airport, and I couldn't be happier about it. On my first trip, I emerged bleary-eyed after a 10-hour flight, desperate for a bathroom and bottle of water. Wandering through the sleek white halls, I spotted a sign with an arrow and the words "Rest and Relaxation." I followed the arrow upstairs to an area with a spa, internet cafe, transit hotel, and several dining options. I was a smitten kitten.

If you're passing through South Korea on your way to other parts of Asia, consider choosing a flight that passes through Incheon. It truly is a great airport, and here are five reasons why:

1. Rest and Relaxation areas. What more could you want on a layover? Leather cots and lounge chairs make sacking out pleasurable (I'm usually that hobo passed out on a sarong by my gate), and they're in a quiet area with no TV noise.

2. Free Internet. And not just free wi-fi, though there's that (I'm using it right now). There's actually an Internet cafe area, with about a half dozen desktops for folks to use - for free. A sign politely asks users to limit their usage to 30 minutes if there is a wait.

3. Self-cleaning toilets. Not only are the toilet seats in a constant state of pristine thanks to some rotating plastic covers, but there are shelves inside the stalls to put your purse and whatnot. I can't count the times I've entered a stall with no hook and had to either wear all my stuff while trying to hover over a dirty seat, or else place it on the equally nasty floor.

Yesterday I posted on packing light for a cold trip - definitely something new for me since I live in Alaska and prefer escaping to warm climates. As I stuff my small backpack with fleecy bulk, a few items have come to light as being practical yet not necessarily things you would think of for when packing for cold. Here are the top five I've discovered:

1. A headlamp. Since, generally speaking, colder weather usually means winter, and winter usually means less daylight, a headlamp will come in handy more hours of the day than a summer trip. I keep mine in my purse whenever I travel.

2. A bandanna. A cotton kerchief isn't going to save your life in a blizzard, but it packs down small and will keep your ears warm. As someone who requires clip-on earmuffs year-round, I rely on the bandanna both for ear warmth and bed hair. Additionally, it can come in handy as toilet paper, tissue, and as a bandage.

3. A scarf. Sure, it makes sense in the city, but if you're a gear-head like me you might not think to use up pack space with a scarf. Think again. What's great about a simple black scarf is it can work multiple-duty as a wrap, headpiece, neck-warmer, pillow and outfit dresser-upper. Wrap it under your jacket or accessorize your dressy clothes with it -- or both.

4. A down sleeping bag. I want to emphasize down here: it is lighter and packs down much smaller than synthetics do, and is much warmer than that cotton or silk bag you use in hostels. If you're sleeping in huts (rather than a tent), you can probably get away with a tiny down bag, and it will also keep you toasty in chilly hostels. I have a 15-year-old North Face that is rated to 25 degrees Fahrenheit and takes up less room than my fleece hoodie.

5. Tights. Ladies, the 80s are back in style. You can now use footless tights as long underwear, running pants, pajamas, or simply under a skirt to stave off a chill. Gentlemen, you can use them for all of the above as well, if you so please. Pick out a synthetic pair to keep you warm(er) in wet weather.

Though the Bay Bridge closure clearly reduced traffic in downtown San Francisco last Friday, bicycle activists congregated nevertheless. This Critical Mass ride, a group of protesters who gather on the last Friday of every month to "celebrate cycling and to assert cyclists' right to the road," was dressed up in their Halloween finest.

I stood in front of the ferry terminal for about an hour watching costumed cyclists rolling in from every direction. Hundreds of folks and their bikes -- many of which were also dressed up -- gathered at the Justin Herman Plaza at the Embarcadero. A few rode around shouting things like "bikes don't use gas!" but the mood was peaceful yet celebratory.

I took some photos to share -- there were way too many great costumes to capture but the following gallery is a small sampling of what was on display. Warning: there are a pair of booty cheeks in photo number 12.

Gallery: Critical Mass Halloween