January 16, 2007
We have had a quiet day in Hoi An. Hoi An
is a small town just south of Da Nang on a tidal river and a few
minutes from China Beach, a famous recreation spot for the US soldiers during
the war. The war is never mentioned here to us and it is seems never to
have happened except for us oldsters who remember the names and places so
vividly. Hoi An is a little river tourist town which is also a UNESCO
cultural site because of its architecture from the 17th and 18th century.
No one is allowed to change their storefronts and the teeming marketplace has
stood the test of time. The main feature of this cute little town is that
it is tailor to the tourists. Over 100 shops offer fabric and 24 hour
suits and clothing. WE MUST BUY. The guides have given us their
favorite places and we await delivery of our bargains. I am leary of such
things having bought a couple of Hong Kong suits in the mid eighties when HK
was the center of the cheap tailoring universe. I think I wore them once
or twice. Nevertheless, I have a couple of shirts coming and Kimberly is
convinced that she has saved a fortune on her treasures.
In spite of my fears for mind and body, the trip
has gone well for us. There have been several rides of varying degrees of
difficulty. We rode about 20 miles from near DaLat to the edge of a huge
downhill. The road down was about another 20 miles and Kim did it with
ease. I rode the van down a very bumpy but paved road and was glad to get
off the bike. We had a very Vietnamese lunch and returned to the vans for
a 3 hour transfer to Na Trang and the Evanson Beach Resort located on an island
off Na Trang. Our very high skill driver had the American music pumping
through his CD player and we sang our way across the fertile plains of central
Vietnam. Our traveling companions egged each other on and the drive was
long but not unpleasant. In Morocco we drank our way across the Atlas
Mountains but it is a different group, oh well. The Viet people seem
gentle and kind. They smile most of the time and are very polite.
Our 52 year old driver speaks ok English and I am sitting in the front of the
van. He remembers the war, served with the ARVN, and at the end of the
war went to jail for three years for reeducation. He thinks that we could
have won the war (I don’t). After his time in prison he tried to leave
the country illegally and was sent back to prison for 25 months. He
didn’t want to do any more time so even though he didn’t get a job for several
years, he stayed our of jail. Because of the bad roads, heavy farm
traffic, animals and scooters driving here is difficult. He is good,
really good, and keeps it smooth and with the music blaring we make our way to
our boat and the short 30 minute crossing to our five star resort.
We have had little or no rain on the trip but
the clouds are low and the winds are high. We board the small motorboat
that will take us to the island and I note that the waves are pounding the
small wharf. I have never gotten seasick but this does not look like fun.
Sure enough, before we are 100 yards into the channel, we have a casualty,
losing it off the back of the boat. The boat pilots response to the heavy
seas is to go as fast as he can and we bang are way to the island, Ana Mandara.
It is late in the day and we are dusty, dirty, sweaty and tired but our
destination resort does not disappoint. We have a private villa with
outdoor shower, plunge pool, air conditioned sleeping room, and upstairs
veranda and sleeping area. Nice digs and before you can say Robinson
Caruso, we are showered, dressed and watching the almost sunset. We are
looking forward to a day off from riding. We have put together a tennis
group and play early before the heat gets us. So, even though we have
skipped the optional ride which would have required going back across the
channel, the resort comes with old beat up bikes that we can ride from place to
place. It is stupidly fun to pedal around on these old junkers. So
we enjoy a short beach interlude before returning to the bike riding.
Yesterday after our early tennis game, we leave
for the airport at Cam Ranh Bay. This was a huge Naval Base built by the
United States to support our efforts in the war. We are flying to Da Nang
and Hoe An. Vietnam is big and long, the coast line is over 1000 miles
long. We are flying on Vietnam Air, the only carrier that flies
domestically. Today it is the ATR 72, a worthy French plane, it
uses propellers instead of jets. It goes slow and low but remember it can
glide.
We arrive in Da Nang, the fourth largest city in
Vietnam. It is even more humid then we have become accustomed. We
lunch quickly at a small restaurant and with my first whine of the trip, we are
joined by thousands of flies. I don’t like sharing with them and abandon
lunch. Our truck carrying the bikes has made the 13 hour journey up the
coast to bring our trusty bicycles and we ride through farms and mud, manure
and bumps on flat small roads toward Hoe An. Our destination
is the Life Resort, Hoi An River Park.
We reach China Beach, a wide and windy
road. Most of the team gets in the Vans but the gallant and undefeatable
Ms. Kim and I ride through the teeming kids who want high fives and yell Hello
at the top of their lungs. Not a hard ride but we are tired and glad to
get to what must be a government owned resort. It is very pleasant and on
the river. Not a five star but very serviceable and the shower is
hot. We who have come to buy the cheap tailoring are
thrilled.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Friday, January 12, 2007
Vietnam: A BEER CALLED 333
January 12, 2007
Our first bike ride in Vietnam yesterday was a fun ride. We literally left from the Dalat Airport on our new steeds. Dalat is in the Central Highlands of the country and very scenic with multiple shades of green. The altitude hovers in the Denver mile high range and the weather is fair and clear. We have been joined by a new group of people who did not go on the Cambodian portion of the trip. Lots of new names and faces to learn. The original group of 10 really has bonded so we’ll see how the new group jells. On a B & R trip while the crowd age might be slightly elevated, the groups are defiantly fitter and more adventurous than the usual tourist bunch. I look like a lineman in this group and my biking skills (mostly balance), which were never great, keep eroding with age. Oh well, it is better to take an active roll than ride on a boat or bus.
When you look around, the green rolling hills and deep narrow valleys bring back memories of hundreds of TV news openings showing Vietnam during the war. You can imagine the light fog covering the higher elevations and the chill of the evening air. Dalat was itself untouched by the war as both sides, Viet Cong and American, used the lakes and hotels as a place to rest from the war. Over 1200 villas are said to line the ridges around this small but beautiful lake area.
Our bike ride from the airport rolls over numerous hills. We stop for lunch at a small roadside café where we have a complete vegetarian meal with the best spring rolls I have ever tasted. They make a beer here called 333. I remember it from my earlier visit. Funny about stuff like that; when I came home from my 1992 trip I bought 333 as my house beer for a while and then forgot about it. Still good. After lunch the ride picked up steam with higher hills and stiffer climbs. We stopped after about 20 miles and I was happy to get off the bike. A hardier group of campers rode on another 15 miles up a steep climb that is considered an “optional” part of the program. I opted out. This part of Vietnam grows lots of hothouse roses, marigolds, and vegetables. The narrow valleys are green with rice paddies and coffee is a big crop with families drying beans in front of their houses.
After a steep decent into the town of Dalat, we arrived at the Dalat Palace hotel. It looks like an old French chateau and the furnishings including an ancient wooden telephone are reminiscent of the 1920’s. Wooden floors with oriental rugs, big armoires, and high ceilings are the rule. Our bathroom has a claw foot bathtub. But and it is a big one, they have wireless Internet. After spending part of most everyday in Rome in the Internet Café, it is a luxury to have it in our room. It seems that we are deep in the country now, far from the bustle of Saigon.
We have been advised that today is the hardest ride of the entire 10 days. Kim has not trained for this week and I am not far behind. We leave the hotel on bikes and head up into the ridges surrounding Dalat. We wind through small villages and farms gently up through heavy morning traffic. The guides and crew on this trip are outstanding and helpful about every detail. They stand at every intersection and guide the traffic away from our group. We reach the halfway mark and the big hill. It is about 3 miles at a difficult grade level. I get about halfway up and call for the van. Kim continues by me and up the hill she goes. She is not fast but paces herself beautifully and summits right at the restaurant we will lunch in. I am disappointed but feel great for Kim who is obviously pleased to have made the climb. My legs were just not good today. In fact, the ride back to the hotel was also filled with climbs that our guides made sure we did not know about until we saw them as we rounded curve after curve. My legs felt like noodles when we finally get back to our room. It was a great day for Kimbo and she’s mighty pleased.
They say the ride will get easier now, but I am not buying it based on the description of yesterday’s ride. The ride back was supposed to be a simple glide but I found it bumpy and requiring lots of concentration. In addition, we keep eating and thus defeat our own exercise. We regroup and tour the very exotic local city market. It is alive with fresh food and the variety of spices, dried fish and unknown fruit is staggering. I buy some roasted cashews (just what I need after my great riding day) for about $5.00 US for a kilo. So our half-kilo is 2.50; it seems cheap to me. Tomorrow we transit to our next destination. I am not paying much attention to our progress up the coast but know that I wouldn’t mind an easier ride tomorrow and am glad to be missing the wet colder January of the Northern California. It might be easier not to be riding a bike.
Our first bike ride in Vietnam yesterday was a fun ride. We literally left from the Dalat Airport on our new steeds. Dalat is in the Central Highlands of the country and very scenic with multiple shades of green. The altitude hovers in the Denver mile high range and the weather is fair and clear. We have been joined by a new group of people who did not go on the Cambodian portion of the trip. Lots of new names and faces to learn. The original group of 10 really has bonded so we’ll see how the new group jells. On a B & R trip while the crowd age might be slightly elevated, the groups are defiantly fitter and more adventurous than the usual tourist bunch. I look like a lineman in this group and my biking skills (mostly balance), which were never great, keep eroding with age. Oh well, it is better to take an active roll than ride on a boat or bus.
When you look around, the green rolling hills and deep narrow valleys bring back memories of hundreds of TV news openings showing Vietnam during the war. You can imagine the light fog covering the higher elevations and the chill of the evening air. Dalat was itself untouched by the war as both sides, Viet Cong and American, used the lakes and hotels as a place to rest from the war. Over 1200 villas are said to line the ridges around this small but beautiful lake area.
Our bike ride from the airport rolls over numerous hills. We stop for lunch at a small roadside café where we have a complete vegetarian meal with the best spring rolls I have ever tasted. They make a beer here called 333. I remember it from my earlier visit. Funny about stuff like that; when I came home from my 1992 trip I bought 333 as my house beer for a while and then forgot about it. Still good. After lunch the ride picked up steam with higher hills and stiffer climbs. We stopped after about 20 miles and I was happy to get off the bike. A hardier group of campers rode on another 15 miles up a steep climb that is considered an “optional” part of the program. I opted out. This part of Vietnam grows lots of hothouse roses, marigolds, and vegetables. The narrow valleys are green with rice paddies and coffee is a big crop with families drying beans in front of their houses.
After a steep decent into the town of Dalat, we arrived at the Dalat Palace hotel. It looks like an old French chateau and the furnishings including an ancient wooden telephone are reminiscent of the 1920’s. Wooden floors with oriental rugs, big armoires, and high ceilings are the rule. Our bathroom has a claw foot bathtub. But and it is a big one, they have wireless Internet. After spending part of most everyday in Rome in the Internet Café, it is a luxury to have it in our room. It seems that we are deep in the country now, far from the bustle of Saigon.
We have been advised that today is the hardest ride of the entire 10 days. Kim has not trained for this week and I am not far behind. We leave the hotel on bikes and head up into the ridges surrounding Dalat. We wind through small villages and farms gently up through heavy morning traffic. The guides and crew on this trip are outstanding and helpful about every detail. They stand at every intersection and guide the traffic away from our group. We reach the halfway mark and the big hill. It is about 3 miles at a difficult grade level. I get about halfway up and call for the van. Kim continues by me and up the hill she goes. She is not fast but paces herself beautifully and summits right at the restaurant we will lunch in. I am disappointed but feel great for Kim who is obviously pleased to have made the climb. My legs were just not good today. In fact, the ride back to the hotel was also filled with climbs that our guides made sure we did not know about until we saw them as we rounded curve after curve. My legs felt like noodles when we finally get back to our room. It was a great day for Kimbo and she’s mighty pleased.
They say the ride will get easier now, but I am not buying it based on the description of yesterday’s ride. The ride back was supposed to be a simple glide but I found it bumpy and requiring lots of concentration. In addition, we keep eating and thus defeat our own exercise. We regroup and tour the very exotic local city market. It is alive with fresh food and the variety of spices, dried fish and unknown fruit is staggering. I buy some roasted cashews (just what I need after my great riding day) for about $5.00 US for a kilo. So our half-kilo is 2.50; it seems cheap to me. Tomorrow we transit to our next destination. I am not paying much attention to our progress up the coast but know that I wouldn’t mind an easier ride tomorrow and am glad to be missing the wet colder January of the Northern California. It might be easier not to be riding a bike.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Vietnam: LIFE GOES FAST WHEN YOU'RE HAVING FUN
Thursday January 11, 2007
On my first trip in 1992 to Siem Reap and Angkor Wat, the Khmer Rouge controlled much of the territory to the North and East of the Tonale Sap (the largest lake in SE Asia), the UN was very present in Cambodia to see if they could have a nearly honest election and there were less then a dozen tourist hotels in the area. My memories of that trip are extraordinarily strong. I was traveling with my friend Michael McDonnell and in order to get to Siem Reap you had to go in through Phenom Phen, which at the time was a seedy, dirty and dangerous place. We flew from Saigon in a Russian prop plane that looked and felt like it might fall out of the sky. After a day or two of trying to find something worthwhile to do that did not include going to the place where Pol Pot killed every Cambodian who could read or write in this retched place, we flew on to Siem Reap in an even smaller and scarier Chinese made plane that I thought had been put together with baling wire and twine. When the pilot started the plane, smoke filled the cabin and the live chickens on board screamed at the top of their lungs. The flight took perhaps less then an hour but seemed a short nasty lifetime. The previous day a Cambodian group of guerillas had attacked the Vietnamese fishing villages that snake out into the largest lake in SE Asia (the above referenced Tonale Sap). It is a fertile fishing ground and the Viet people had been on the lake for hundreds of years. Many people were killed in the attack and I had suggested to Michael that perhaps we should stay away from the Angkor ruins. But no, with some but not enough trepidation, we were on the bus for better or worse. The pilot swooped in over the lake and the villages as if nothing had happened and we landed at the small and especially crummy airport. Welcome to Siem Reap.
It goes without saying much more, that the monumental scope of the ruins did not disappoint us and although we had an armed guard with us at all times in the ruin our viewing was not disturbed. After all, we were but 2 of a handful of tourists who picked this crazy time to come to Angkor. So we checked out Angkor Wat, Banyon, and Ta’Bromh with no competition from the masses. We stayed in what I thought was an old Holiday Inn and went to the best and only two restaurants for the native food. Aside from the constant firing of rifles and artillery from the perimeter and the various war patrols going out from Siem Reap, we did ok. I suppose we were very lucky nothing happened to us. Michael probably has a somewhat different version but I think most of the above is true.
A short 15 years later, Kim and I took a spanking new plane from Bangkok to Siem Reap. The airport is large and spiffy, new and beautifully designed. We were met at the plane by the B&R rep and whisked to our fancy and quite wonderful Grand Angkor hotel. Siem Reap is unrecognizable from my prior visit; there are over 100 hotels, the city streets are jammed with tourists and the tone is very hectic and upbeat. We did the trip around the historic ruin by bike and bus with crowds that made me imagine Yosemite on a crowded day. Still it is a phenomenal world preservation site and I am glad to have brought Kimbo to see it. Riding a bike in the heavy traffic is more then a ride in the park. The motor scooters, cars and trucks have some sort of established etiquette, but I haven’t quite got it down yet. The Butterfield and Robinson crew are high skilled at getting us around and we feel relatively safe. A good mixed group of 10 plus guides with good weather and high spirits is the perfect combination. Also, for some reason, almost no jet lag and some easy biking have made the days fly by. Be here now and in the present; life goes fast when you’re having fun.
Yesterday, we flew a real jet from Siem Reap to Saigon. It was a city of two million when I toured in 1992 and today some say 7 but most think it is 8 million souls. It sort of looks the same but not downtown. We stayed mere blocks from my first hotel, the Majestic, former home of the General Staff of the American Army. It has been redone and well. It was a special memory of my original visit to sit in the lobby and have a drink. Our hotel, the new Caravelle, is now considered old in this roaring busy city. New hotels by the score and old ones being made new like the Majestic. Late last night Kim and I sat on the balcony on the ninth floor of our Hotel in the popular Saigon Saigon bar and looked out on this colossal new city. It was fun and gentle breezes wafted through the pollution. I am fascinated by Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City aka HCM). The people as a race are very beautiful and seem to have no animus to us Americans. Of course, over half of the population was not alive when the war ended. I am sure there is substantial poverty in the country but not the same as the grinding Cambodian dirt and filth.
On my first trip in 1992 to Siem Reap and Angkor Wat, the Khmer Rouge controlled much of the territory to the North and East of the Tonale Sap (the largest lake in SE Asia), the UN was very present in Cambodia to see if they could have a nearly honest election and there were less then a dozen tourist hotels in the area. My memories of that trip are extraordinarily strong. I was traveling with my friend Michael McDonnell and in order to get to Siem Reap you had to go in through Phenom Phen, which at the time was a seedy, dirty and dangerous place. We flew from Saigon in a Russian prop plane that looked and felt like it might fall out of the sky. After a day or two of trying to find something worthwhile to do that did not include going to the place where Pol Pot killed every Cambodian who could read or write in this retched place, we flew on to Siem Reap in an even smaller and scarier Chinese made plane that I thought had been put together with baling wire and twine. When the pilot started the plane, smoke filled the cabin and the live chickens on board screamed at the top of their lungs. The flight took perhaps less then an hour but seemed a short nasty lifetime. The previous day a Cambodian group of guerillas had attacked the Vietnamese fishing villages that snake out into the largest lake in SE Asia (the above referenced Tonale Sap). It is a fertile fishing ground and the Viet people had been on the lake for hundreds of years. Many people were killed in the attack and I had suggested to Michael that perhaps we should stay away from the Angkor ruins. But no, with some but not enough trepidation, we were on the bus for better or worse. The pilot swooped in over the lake and the villages as if nothing had happened and we landed at the small and especially crummy airport. Welcome to Siem Reap.
It goes without saying much more, that the monumental scope of the ruins did not disappoint us and although we had an armed guard with us at all times in the ruin our viewing was not disturbed. After all, we were but 2 of a handful of tourists who picked this crazy time to come to Angkor. So we checked out Angkor Wat, Banyon, and Ta’Bromh with no competition from the masses. We stayed in what I thought was an old Holiday Inn and went to the best and only two restaurants for the native food. Aside from the constant firing of rifles and artillery from the perimeter and the various war patrols going out from Siem Reap, we did ok. I suppose we were very lucky nothing happened to us. Michael probably has a somewhat different version but I think most of the above is true.
A short 15 years later, Kim and I took a spanking new plane from Bangkok to Siem Reap. The airport is large and spiffy, new and beautifully designed. We were met at the plane by the B&R rep and whisked to our fancy and quite wonderful Grand Angkor hotel. Siem Reap is unrecognizable from my prior visit; there are over 100 hotels, the city streets are jammed with tourists and the tone is very hectic and upbeat. We did the trip around the historic ruin by bike and bus with crowds that made me imagine Yosemite on a crowded day. Still it is a phenomenal world preservation site and I am glad to have brought Kimbo to see it. Riding a bike in the heavy traffic is more then a ride in the park. The motor scooters, cars and trucks have some sort of established etiquette, but I haven’t quite got it down yet. The Butterfield and Robinson crew are high skilled at getting us around and we feel relatively safe. A good mixed group of 10 plus guides with good weather and high spirits is the perfect combination. Also, for some reason, almost no jet lag and some easy biking have made the days fly by. Be here now and in the present; life goes fast when you’re having fun.
Yesterday, we flew a real jet from Siem Reap to Saigon. It was a city of two million when I toured in 1992 and today some say 7 but most think it is 8 million souls. It sort of looks the same but not downtown. We stayed mere blocks from my first hotel, the Majestic, former home of the General Staff of the American Army. It has been redone and well. It was a special memory of my original visit to sit in the lobby and have a drink. Our hotel, the new Caravelle, is now considered old in this roaring busy city. New hotels by the score and old ones being made new like the Majestic. Late last night Kim and I sat on the balcony on the ninth floor of our Hotel in the popular Saigon Saigon bar and looked out on this colossal new city. It was fun and gentle breezes wafted through the pollution. I am fascinated by Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City aka HCM). The people as a race are very beautiful and seem to have no animus to us Americans. Of course, over half of the population was not alive when the war ended. I am sure there is substantial poverty in the country but not the same as the grinding Cambodian dirt and filth.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
Vietnam: ON THE ROAD AGAIN
January 6, 2007
It’s a tough life at the old Mandarin Oriental in Bangkok. On the road again, it’s good to be on the road again. After a 26-hour ride from San Fran to Bangkok (we left on time and arrived 30 minutes early) in a very comfortable business class 747-400 we arrived at the all-new Bangkok airport only to be met by the hotel limo. There were no glitches except a long wait in Narita for our lay over and a big line at immigration. By the time we hit the hotel, it was the next day and after midnight. It doesn’t get much better and still the flights are very long and my body does not accept such treatment without a little stomach ache or headache or stiffness or whatever happens to the body at a certain age.
As the driver whisked us into a quiet late night Bangkok, you could feel the 8 million souls who inhabit this place, restlessly waiting for dawn to begin another frantic day in this bustling, growing, relentless Southeast Asian capital. The Oriental is an icon in the lore of the Hotel world. Somerset Maugham, Joseph Conrad, Graham Greene, and many other famous early 20th Century writers made the Oriental their home away from home. We first stayed here 17 years ago on our honeymoon and are excited to be back. For some reason, the hotel thinks we are on our honeymoon now and has produced several amenities including floral bouquets, a free lunch and never ending bows. We are delighted. The truth is we are being totally spoiled and love it.
Today we took an afternoon tour of several temples that are an important part of the Buddhist tradition and important to the country’s history. The people in a way that the Queen of England could only hope for revere the King of Thailand. He is on the top of the charts and the royal family is a special part of the country’s being. There have been bomb explosions and a change of government in the last few weeks but nothing gets between the King and his people. Kimbo, the great, loved the tour, looking at every Buddha and quickly picking up the history of the country. She loves learning and always wants to be at the front row in every class - it sort of makes up for my attention span problem. By hour number 3, I am ready to return to the hotel for a nap and a drink. Still our guide is speaking excellent English and continues on with a command of the country’s history and customs. The traffic is heavy, the heat warm but bearable, and the crowds in the street active. We are delighted.
Tomorrow, we move on all too quickly to our next stop in Siem Reap. It is a surprise to me that we have done some shopping, eaten a very Western hotel Thai lunch, and taken a major city tour on our first day out. We really respond to Bangkok, never staying long enough. Maybe next time we will catch more of the vibe of this extraordinarily huge and vibrant place.
It’s a tough life at the old Mandarin Oriental in Bangkok. On the road again, it’s good to be on the road again. After a 26-hour ride from San Fran to Bangkok (we left on time and arrived 30 minutes early) in a very comfortable business class 747-400 we arrived at the all-new Bangkok airport only to be met by the hotel limo. There were no glitches except a long wait in Narita for our lay over and a big line at immigration. By the time we hit the hotel, it was the next day and after midnight. It doesn’t get much better and still the flights are very long and my body does not accept such treatment without a little stomach ache or headache or stiffness or whatever happens to the body at a certain age.
As the driver whisked us into a quiet late night Bangkok, you could feel the 8 million souls who inhabit this place, restlessly waiting for dawn to begin another frantic day in this bustling, growing, relentless Southeast Asian capital. The Oriental is an icon in the lore of the Hotel world. Somerset Maugham, Joseph Conrad, Graham Greene, and many other famous early 20th Century writers made the Oriental their home away from home. We first stayed here 17 years ago on our honeymoon and are excited to be back. For some reason, the hotel thinks we are on our honeymoon now and has produced several amenities including floral bouquets, a free lunch and never ending bows. We are delighted. The truth is we are being totally spoiled and love it.
Today we took an afternoon tour of several temples that are an important part of the Buddhist tradition and important to the country’s history. The people in a way that the Queen of England could only hope for revere the King of Thailand. He is on the top of the charts and the royal family is a special part of the country’s being. There have been bomb explosions and a change of government in the last few weeks but nothing gets between the King and his people. Kimbo, the great, loved the tour, looking at every Buddha and quickly picking up the history of the country. She loves learning and always wants to be at the front row in every class - it sort of makes up for my attention span problem. By hour number 3, I am ready to return to the hotel for a nap and a drink. Still our guide is speaking excellent English and continues on with a command of the country’s history and customs. The traffic is heavy, the heat warm but bearable, and the crowds in the street active. We are delighted.
Tomorrow, we move on all too quickly to our next stop in Siem Reap. It is a surprise to me that we have done some shopping, eaten a very Western hotel Thai lunch, and taken a major city tour on our first day out. We really respond to Bangkok, never staying long enough. Maybe next time we will catch more of the vibe of this extraordinarily huge and vibrant place.
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