Feeling Glucky Blog

I’m so old school. I’ve always been reluctant to blog, using this site, solely to publish and archive my stories, mainly culled from over 25 years of reporting around Asia-Pacific. But since I’m finally revamping my site (created in MS Word in 1995, then using Front Page, which was killed even before most of the world’s traditional media), I’m finally going over to the BLOG side. After all it’s 2017!

Black Sea Diary — July/August 2017

Exploring Istanbul

Lots of excitement, adventure and discoveries for me in Istanbul, and then onward; which so much going on that I’ve been busy enjoying it all, and not been back to this blog. Istanbul is one of the world’s great cities, an aromatic and historic mix of all the world’s major ideologies, religions and cuisines, sprinkled liberally with ample contradiction and chaos. If you haven’t been — go-go-go!

This time in Istanbul, I was focused mainly upon cuisine and food tourism, preparing for major culinary events later in the year like gastromasa (a kind of world cup of Turkish cuisine, see ) and Yedi (kind of like Ted Talks of Turkish Cuisine —, that I will be covering later in the year.

But I wanted to prepare some advance coverage, so ran around on food and spice market trips, met with food writers and chefs, and indulged in some of the world’s best food. Thanks to all the hotels, restaurants, chefs and journalists who helped educate me, and offered insight, tours, and lodging.


Then, after Istanbul at the end of July, it was back to Samsun, major city on the Black Sea, where I have been living part-time since April. I returned just in time for the closing of another Olympics – the DeafOlympics. Really!!!

the main square in Samsun, major city on Turkish Black Sea

Samsun lacks the history of many other Turkish Black Sea towns like Trabzon, Sinop, or Amasya, which sport magnificent Ottoman buildings and ancient citadels from Greek and Roman times. Many towns served as ports and alternate transport routes at varying times on the fabled Silk Road. Some of these historic cities claim citadels that go back several thousand years, and settlements that go back 7,000 years.

bread push cart on the beach in Atakent, seaside suburb of Samsun

Samsun, by comparison, serves as the the modern driver of growth along the Black Sea, but it’s also a charming seaside city with lots of universities and a great café culture. From a base in Atakent, a relaxed suburb right on the Black Sea (with a laid-back coastal look and feel that reminds of my Hong Kong base long ago on Lamma Island), I’ve been getting to know the locals and soaking up the culture. In the process, I’ve been contemplating a sort of Black Sea diary.

That has led to my current journey. After visiting some Black Sea towns around Samsun in April-May, I returned in July, and headed East from Samsun, to the ancient city-state of Tabzon, then onto Rize, colorful center of Turkey’s tea-growing region.

This is an amazing story, especially if you have ever visited Turkey, where you constantly served glasses of tea not only at restaurants, but every stop: markets, shops, homes.

Atop Rize, the old citadel has been turned into a tea center with gardens, processing, and of course, a massive outdoor tea restaurant

Yet a century ago, Turkey consumed virtually no tea. Instead, it was a huge coffee country. But the economic doldrums after World War II prompted the government to push tea as a new potential cash crop that has revived the fortune of the Rize and mountain areas. Now Turkey is a major tea consumer, and producer, with all the tea being grown in the unique hilly region around Rize.

Rize is a colorful town in Eastern Turkey, by the border with Georgia

The unique micro-climate – hot summers but cool winters, even snow – lends itself to a hearty kind of tea, produced rare conditions. Virtually no other countries produce tea in areas that freeze, and the extreme weather limits Turkey to a single harvest.

Major tea producers like China and Sri Lanka harvest year-round. And Rize is the only area of Turkey suitable for tea, so must provide enough to serve the tea-crazed appetites of Turks everywhere. Imagine if France or Italy had to satisfy all their wine needs from one single region!

I visited tea plantations and got an inside look at a new 10 million Euro project to upgrade Turkish tea, produce new varieties and improve marketing and branding. And I talked to the head of the Rize Commodity Exchange which focuses entirely on tea, about the challenges and plans now, and for the future. So, look for my story upcoming on Turkish tea.

From Rize, I headed into the hill country around Ayder, a magical land of mountains, waterfalls, alpine pastures, and mouth-watering food. Mention the area to any Turk, and he/she will immediately recite their favorite dishes, focusing upon the special milk, butter and dairy.

Turkish woman tends to laundry in hill country of Ayder

the hills are alive with ziplines, too

Ayder is only one of many colorful Turkish hill towns that boast abundant nature and views of traditional life, but it’s become the major tourist draw, with scores of hill lodges springing up to accommodate surging tourism. Most visitors have been Turks themselves, who come on family holidays, mainly in the hot summer months, but also for the snowy winters.

Yet, increasingly, tourism comes from the Middle East, especially Saudi Arabia.

In some ways, it’s a very funny contrast, as these hills become alive with a kind of Saudi Sound of Music!!!

That’s all part of the many attractions of the Black Sea region, and this is only the Turkish part. Since traveling in Turkey, I crossed over the border into Georgia, which has been an amazing revelation. I’ve heard such good news in recent times about Georgia, with all my friends who have visited raving about everything: the food, culture, pristine scenery and friendly welcome.

Even with such lofty expectations, I’ve been happily surprised.

Batumi, the largest resort on the Black Sea, is a little bit Las Vegas, a lot Macau, and all Georgian

Since coming to Batumi, the major resort on the Black Sea, everything has been fabulous. The town is an historic 1800s port that is reminiscent in many ways to Shanghai. Although Macau also comes to mind, since this is the major casino center in the region, sort of Las Vegas on the Black Sea.

Besides big casino-hotels there amazing modern architecture, much of it wacky, over the top, total kitsch.

But it’s all exciting, and fun, and you feel the enthusiasm of a population that has it all, the seaside and surrounding nature, phenomenal (and insanely rich) food, and unlimited prospects, especially compared to the grim Soviet years and fighting after. There is a great energy in the town, and I found it hard to tear myself away, happily extending my stay in this vibrant beach town.

Gotham-style view of Batumi, Georgia’s Black Sea resort, from the Alphabet Tower

My rapture with Georgia may be partly due to the fact that I haven’t been in a new country in some time. So, I decided to add some more firsts.

I’m doing this post on a train! Rolling from Batumi to Tbilisi, the Georgian capital, which will be my next stop.

Check back for updates and more from Georgia and the region. And keep an eye on for my stories as they come out. Thanks for visiting!



I’ve only dashed through one of my favorite cities in the world, Istanbul, Turkey, since a long, loving visit five years ago.

View from my balcony at the Ciragan Palace Kempinski Hotel, the prime property overlooking the Bosphorous and central to exploring Istanbul

But now, I’m back, and enjoying all the reminders of why this is such a phenomenal city: history, culture, chaos, bustle, bazaars and bizarre, and just such a joy to wander around neighborhoods rich in atmosphere, religion and, of course, food.

I’m in residence at the fabulous Carigan Palace Kempinski Hotel (Teşekkürler!!) right on the amazing Bosphorous, which once was the border between Europe-Asia, back when this was essentially the crossroads of the world. In many ways, it still is.

Check my blog and posts on social media for on-the-spot updates, and check back for my stories from Istanbul, on food culture, cuisine and tourism, and then later, as I head back to Samsun, to follow up my Back Sea Diaries, and begin my travel journey along the Black Sea to Georgia.

to see some of my previous dispatches from Istanbul

and my story for Time Magazine:



It was 20 YEARS AGO Today!

Hard to believe, it was 20 years ago that Hong Kong ended its long, rich history as a British colony on June 30, and at the strike of midnight, returned to Chinese rule on July 1, 1997. Over the years, I’ve returned to Hong Kong to cover the ongoing changes, including the five-year anniversary (for Travel + Leisure;, and as recently as 2012 for the 15-year anniversary (for the Wall Street Journal

Amazing to think it’s now 20 years! As a permanent resident of Hong Kong, I was on hand then, watching the changes in the run up to that landmark day. I decided to cover the transition by following Han Dongfan, a Tiananmen protest leader,  former political prisoner turned exile, and longtime labor activist as well as my neighbor on Lamma Island. That story ran in Time’s Asiaweek Magazine, right after the Handover, and it’s on my website as The Man Who Beat Beijing ( Have a look, below.

The Man Who Beat Beijing

At midnight on July 1, 1997, the world watched as China reclaimed possession of the British colony of Hong Kong. The territory is a treasure, but it comes with a catch: Tiananmen dissident Han Dongfang

By Ron Gluckman/Hong Kong

HARDLY ANYONE NOTICED THE notorious Chinese man marking the minutes to midnight in Hong Kong’s central square. Certainly not the foreign journalists. Some six thousand of them had converged on the city for Hong Kong’s Handover, perhaps the Most Over-Hyped Event in History.

For weeks, they had fallen over each other, filing soundbites for a story that cried out for context. From press briefing to handover ball they rushed, leaving no landmark unfilmed, no cliché unreported. And yet as the Magic Moment neared, the scribes failed to record for posterity the historic feelings of Han Dongfang — the Man Who Beat Beijing.

“It’s hard to believe,” said Han, as the raucous crowd counted down the seconds to mainland rule. “After all these years, here I am, back in China.”

Thousands had thronged Statue Square outside the domed legislature to await the end of Empire — and witness a piece of political theater. Elected leaders who refused a role in the Beijing-appointed legislature were about to address the crowd from the first-floor balcony. It would be Hong Kong’s first political demonstration under communist rule. For some, these moments were tinged with sadness. Others were just thankful it was all over. For Han, the handover had special meaning. It was making good his pledge to return home: the Chinese authorities had exiled the labor activist, but the mainland was getting him back just the same. Savoring victory, Han rubbed his thick hair and struggled for words. “It’s hard to say what I am feeling,” he said. “It’s many things: happy, excited, worried.”

Han Dongfang, 33, makes hot copy, especially in Western capitals. He is handsome, charismatic. He is the last Tiananmen activist in Hong Kong. His name means “The East” — an echo perhaps of that quintessential revolutionary anthem, The East is Red. In the West, Han’s perceived struggle against the tyranny of one-party rule has taken on mythic proportions. He has been likened to a Chinese Brad Pitt playing David to Beijing’s Goliath. That he has chosen to remain in Hong Kong adds extra spice. In the run-up to the Big Moment, Western reporters hounded him relentlessly.

Through June, Han’s face appeared on TV screens from Iceland to Tierra del Fuego. Yet he has steadfastly maintained: “I’m not the story. Hong Kong is. I’m only here to speak for workers in China.” Labor unrest, he was saying, posed the greatest threat to social order. In March factory workers in Sichuan province took a manager hostage; they hadn’t been paid in six months. Tens of millions of people are roaming China looking for work — a “time bomb” says Han. By contrast, Hong Kong’s return to the motherland is an historical footnote. Han was trying to explain to the media hordes the more important lessons of history. “The Chinese people will keep quiet, even when they have no food and the pressure keeps rising,” he says. “They will keep quiet until the day they can keep quiet no more. Then we will have rebellion.”

Han has been talking this way ever since his giddy days in Tiananmen Square. Student leaders hogged the limelight and bellowed about democracy, but Han and his friends were there, too, talking about workers’ rights. Their Beijing Workers’ Autonomous Federation was probably China’s first independent labor group since the People’s Republic formed with the aim of addressing many of the same grievances. After the tanks rolled into Tiananmen, the world focused on the so-called democracy heroes. Yet many observers believe Beijing considered Han’s organization a greater threat.

Han was jailed without trial. In prison he recalls other inmates coughing blood. Before long he was sick, too. After 22 months behind bars he was released on the verge of death. Han received a rare visa to travel to the U.S. for medical treatment. There he recovered and embraced the Christian faith. After overcoming tuberculosis, which cost him the use of a lung, Han spurned offers of asylum. He could think of little else but returning to fight for workers’ rights. Turned away at the border to China, Han retreated to Hong Kong, where he remained an exiled but potent critic.

“People have always said foreign investment is the hope of China. This is our bridge to the world,” he wrote in a recent article. “But what comes across the bridge are 12-hour shifts, seven-day workweeks and only two trips to the bathroom a day. What comes across are factory fires that kill hundreds of workers who are locked in because their bosses are afraid they will steal the products. The Chinese government has put an invisible net across the bridge that allows money to come in but not the freedoms of a civil society, not the rule of law and not free trade unions.” Han understands the authorities’ dilemma only too clearly. They must close the money-losing state firms. But what to do about the millions of laid off workers? “China must let the workers talk,” Han insists. “That’s the first thing. They must release the pressure.”

That is the message Han puts forward in the China Labor Bulletin and his weekly show on Radio Free Asia. Four thousand copies of the Bulletin are mailed to the mainland each month, but Han can’t say how many elude censors or confiscation. The reach of radio is easier to gauge; Han gets calls and letters from all over China. Beijing officials have lashed out at international labor organizations for funding Han’s crusade. To be sure they support him, but in a style to which his foes — factory bosses, bureaucrats — are definitely unaccustomed.

Han lives with his wife Chen Jingyun and two U.S.-born sons, Jonathan, 3, and Nathan, 4, in a simple third-floor flat on Lamma Island, 40 minutes by ferry from central Hong Kong, but a world apart from the city’s neon hyper grind. The island has no cars, roads or supermarkets. It was a major event a few months ago when Lamma’s lone cash-dispensing machine got a rain awning. Cheap rents and rural living have long lured backpackers, artists, writers and dissidents. Han likes looking out his windows and seeing trees.

The way Han tells it, before he found his current flat, another landlord first accepted and then returned his deposit. Apparently not everyone wanted a famous labor activist under their roof. The Han household looks like the family has just moved in, when in fact they have lived there for a year. The walls are bare save a mirror, family photos — and two revealing mementos: a clock and cheap banner, both emblazoned with the logos of Poland’s legendary Solidarity union. Han has been likened to its leader Lech Walesa, who became president after a workers’ revolt drove the communists from power. Time and again, reporters have made the inevitable comparison, and Han invariably has chuckled: “Me? President of China. Ha, ha, ha. No, I don’t think so.”

He taps out copy for his radio shows and newsletters at a cluttered desk in the main room. There is no sofa; indeed little furniture of any kind. The decor speaks to Han’s modest circumstances — and to a grim, generally unspoken worry. Why put down deep roots when your future is so clouded? Many times Human Rights Watch/Asia chief Robin Munro has urged his friend and neighbor to leave Hong Kong. “I’m worried the Chinese government would regard him as their public enemy No. 1,” Munro confides. “That scares me to death.” But Han is staying put.

Han prefers not to talk about worst-case scenarios, not even with the wife he married nine years ago in Beijing, the woman who waited as he wilted in prison. Munro recalls the day the activist got out. “I felt sure, as Beijing must have when they released him, that he was going to die.” Han fears jail, but his main worry is that Beijing will curtail his activities in Hong Kong. Han has a Chinese passport but it expires this month. The big test will come when he tries to renew his Hong Kong work permit 17 months hence. He has not traveled abroad all year for fear authorities might refuse to let him back in. “I want to stay in Hong Kong, but that’s really up to Beijing,” he says. “There’s not much use in worrying. I’m concerned, but not afraid.”

Every weekday he commutes by ferry to the Hong Kong Christian Industrial Committee office on Peking Road, in a part of the Kowloon district frequented by travelers and copy-watch vendors. The run-down building is better known for the ground-floor Spaghetti Factory than the labor activist three flights up. The office looks like union halls from New York to Paris. Tea and instant coffee; dirty cups; a water cooler; angry labor posters. Nearly a dozen workers man phones or wrestle with ancient computers arranged around piles of leaflets and binders. An earnest, just-cause atmosphere permeates the place. Here, during handover hell, Han hosted Friday meet-the-press sessions, his only real concession to international fame. Ten days before Hong Kong’s date with destiny, Han played to a full house. “This is too much like a press conference,” he said at the outset, uncomfortable in his role as media star. “I have nothing special to say,” he quipped, then rearranged the chairs into a more informal circle. Smiling at the new setup, he added, “Good. Now we can talk.”

The day dissolved into a long series of interviews that relentlessly trod familiar ground. It was like shooting Handover the Movie, take after take. Han offered details about labor unrest and strikes in China. He quoted official statistics, such as the fact that 9,000 mainland miners died last year. But the quote collectors were keener for his opinion of the Communist Party and its Hong Kong intentions. By the end of the day his enthusiasm had waned. He hadn’t had much sleep, and more reporters kept arriving, each seeming less prepared than the last. A Toronto reporter wanted details of Operation Yellowbird, the underground pipeline that moved dissidents from China to safety through Hong Kong. Han, who entered Hong Kong legally, calmly repeated for the umpteenth time: “I don’t really know about that. I’m not a dissident. I’m a trade unionist.”

A week later, Han did it all over again. And in the frantic final days, crews began filming him on the ferry. By now reporters were looking for that fresh angle. “They all say they want to ask different questions,” Han sighs. “But they never do.” On Lamma itself, TV people in Italian jeans and Dexter shoes whispered into cell phones and bumped into the isle’s self-styled Bohemian inhabitants, wearing Save-the-Earth T-shirts and bemused expressions.

Han has lived on Lamma for four years, and in that time he has undergone a remarkable transformation, from shy exile to confident talking head. Eighteen months ago, Han began learning English with a tutor so he could deliver workers’ sermons with aplomb. Within months, a man with no university experience had achieved his goal. When Han flew to America for medical treatment, he knew one word of English — tea. “I drank a lot of tea on that flight!” he recalls.

Much has changed since then. Han’s English reading skills are still slim, but he has become an eloquent speaker. It is hard to believe that he suffered from a severe stutter when he was a child. Han used to be “more angry. Now I am more peaceful.” Perhaps, but his basic nature remains unchanged. In a free society, Han would be a self-made intellect and a natural leader. In China, his gift for saying it like it is was bound to bring him trouble.

Han Dongfang was born poor in Nanweiquan, a village of 2,000 people in Shanxi province, but was mostly raised in Beijing, where his mother fled following the Cultural Revolution. After graduating from high school in 1980, Han joined the Public Security Soldiers Corps, a precursor to the People’s Armed Police. He was 17. He served three years as a guard at Tuanhe, a prison camp south of Beijing that is eerily like the one he would later visit under different circumstances. Authorities may have had some inkling of Han’s irksome qualities — even then he was involved in battles over workers’ treatment — but they recognized his motivational skills and gave him his own squad. Next he worked as an assistant librarian at Beijing Teacher’s College. The pay was meager, but the fringe benefits handsome for a man with a curious mind. Han read most everything on the shelves — Hemingway, Freud, Greek classics. He left for a better-paying post at Fengtai Locomotive Maintenance Section. There he furthered his grassroots education, traveling the nation and seeing first-hand the parlous lives of people outside the cities. Along the way, squabbles with petty officials made Han feel that the People’s Republic was anything but. He became politicized when his family was moved from an apartment block undergoing redevelopment. Authorities promised alternative housing but never delivered. He moved back in and refused to budge. When students started gathering in Tiananmen, Han was ready to speak out. By April 1989, he was in the square every day, passing out leaflets.

Until the handover media onslaught, Han had continued to work in relative anonymity on Lamma. As the big day loomed, he maintained an outward calm. But cracks began to appear. His wife asked him what would happen if he went to prison. “I don’t think I can face that again,” he confided. “If that knock comes on the door, I don’t know what I’ll do.” On handover eve, he was acting confident, cheerful. His sons were excited. “We’re going to see the fireflies,” Nathan enthused. The boys had little sense of the possible fireworks ahead. For them, like much of Hong Kong, the handover was a party.

Eight hours later, the Man Who Beat Beijing stood in Statue Square. He was smiling. He had not come to boast. “Welcome home, Han,” a woman suddenly said. It was midnight; the media hadn’t noticed him yet. “Good luck, and god bless,” she added. And that was how Han’s first seconds back in China began, with a message of faith between two Christians. “I pray often,” Han said the next day, after waking for the first time in Hong Kong, China. “I pray to the Lord to open the eyes of the rulers of the Communist Party, to make them realize how people are suffering. If they could only see the suffering, then maybe there would be hope.” Now that the foreign reporters are no longer chasing him down the ferry dock, Han is left with his own thoughts; they veer between confidence and anxiety. “I’m not sure when [the authorities] will come to me,” he says. “But I’m sure they will. I expect it.” In the next instant he sees himself on the mainland, possibly running an education network for laborers. Only one thing seems sure: Han Dongfang won’t give up.

Photos of Han by David Paul Morris



Back in Bangkok – after a steady stretch of travel, I’m back in Bangkok most of June. It’s rainy season, great storms, killer sunsets, rainbows,  and good time for writing!              



Coming soon… my long interview with basketball superstar Yao Ming, in China!
That’s out now as the cover for Forbes in July 2017. See click on latest stories!


Yao Ming is less than two feet taller than this reporter, but he seems double my size! Coming in July, a long profile on this basketball star, philanthropist and new president of the Chinese Basketball Association


Always a pleasure to fly into Luang Prabang, a charming town of temples, palaces and colonial mansions in upper Laos along the Mekong River

June 2017: I’m in Luang Prabang, one of Asia’s most charming towns, an enchanting ancient capital of temples, palaces and colonial mansions, tucked in mountains and mist along the winding Mekong River in upper Laos. I first visited in 1993, when reclusive Laos received only 25,000 foreign visitors per year. I’ve been back regularly, and even as tourism soared to over 4,000,000 visitors, it’s defied the odds and retained its intrinsic charm and authenticity.
Luang Prabang is hosting the Mekong Tourism Forum, an annual summit of representatives and tour operators from all of the nations along the Mekong, from the mountains of Tibet in China, to the Delta in Vietnam, devoted to creating meaningful tourism and protecting the attractions, culture and communities along the vital river.
This is, by all accounts (including my own perspective), the best MTF ever, not only because of the strong initiatives on sustainable tourism and environmental tourism, but because Luang Prabang has so enthusiastically embraced the forum. Too often, bureaucracies and state agencies push MTF to the fringes of mainstream tourism, struggling to introduce its best practices and encourage multi-governmental cooperation. But little Luang Prabang is already on board with many of these initiatives, realizing sensible regulation and smart conservation are essentially to maintaining the appeal of its unique, serene setting. Bravo!
Sees some of my stories on Laos by clicking World Wonder in the Jungle, and Town Without Cinemas Hosts Southeast Asia’s Best Film Festival, plus lots more on my Laos Page

gorgeous panorama of Luang Prabang from the hilltop Luang Prabang View Hotel


Mandatory to any visit to Luang Prabang is a cruise on the Mekong River, where sunsets are magnificent. Boat trip courtesy of Donald Wong and Amantaka!


the iconic Sydney Opera House lit up on opening night of Vivid, the amazing festival of light, art, ideas and music.

In late May, I was back in Sydney, at the end of a marvelous three-week visit to Australia. (Stories coming soon in Forbes, the Wall Street Journal and other fine periodicals.) Meantime, I’m attending Vivid, this marvelous festival of art, music, ideas and light that turns Sydney into a hyper-kinetic, surreal playground. Here are a few looks (and my story for the Wall Street Journal has been published, and posted – see Latest Stories )

Sydney’s Museum of Contemporary Art itself becomes a work of contemporary art at Vivid, the amazing festival of light, art, ideas and music.

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