Consider the following situation: A Chinese friend convinces you to address his motoring club and spin yarns about your wild adventures driving abroad. You have some great stories, and great pictures to go with them. "Don't worry about the language," your friend says. "I'll translate."
If Mario Ignacio Artaza sounds like a motivational speaker, it's probably because he's anxious to promote an attractive commodity: the country of Chile.
Since my friends and family can't visit China themselves, I try to bring China to them - at least, all of the country I can cram into two suitcases.
One day in May 2005, 25-year-old Hangzhou native Chen Chu walked up to an abandoned building on Chaonei Dajie, Beijing. Built between 1912 and 1949, the three-story house stands like an isolated island in the surrounding mass of high-rise buildings. But what drew Chen to it were rumors that it is haunted - by the ghost of a warlord's concubine who hung herself to death there.
Years ago, a young man in his early 20s crawled along a 300-year-old bridge made of ivy rope that spanned a distance of 400 meters. Fifty meters below, huge foaming waves crashed upon the jagged cliffs of the mighty Yarlung Tsangbo Canyon in eastern Tibet Autonomous Region.
When a group of American tourists stopped by Chengdu, capital of Southwest China's Sichuan Province, during their three-week tour of China, they were invited to meet with 24 rural women teachers.
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