Fred Hoyt – Page 40 – Fred Hoyt's Travels

The Last J Term 1995

When I arrived at IWU in 1987, students had to take 35 course units (roughly the equivalent of a regular course elsewhere), except that each course unit equalled 4 hours elsewhere. Each faculty member taught 7 courses. A January term class provided students the opportunity to take at least the three additional courses needed for graduation (they needed 35 total), and could include an international (or domestic) trip in January. The trips were supported by federal loans. Faculty members were required to offer a January term class, which might be international.

Up until 1994, I had steered my services marketing class into a 3 night stay at the Palmer House (as the students viewed it) or 4 days of site visits (as I viewed it) in Chicago. That trip included a performance by the Chicago Symphony or the Lyric Opera, a discussion with Information Resources Incorporated (an early data-mining company), the marketing director of the Art Institute, etc.

It was obvious to me, however, after my 1990 trip to China, that my “calling” was to take students overseas and share my background expertise and love of adventure with a January term class. What prevented that was that a member of the business department had a lock on the trip, and the chair insisted that (at the time), there could be only one business trip.

Fortunately for me, Dr. Kieh, chair of the (nonexistent) International Studies Department (nonexistent because it was cobbled together with faculty who had appointments in other departments, but taught an International Studies class), offered me the opportunity to develop a course on Trade and Diplomacy on the China Coast for International Studies credit. That was my 1994 segue into teaching a travel course for almost 20 years at IWU. It started in China, but gradually expanded to East and Southeast Asia, to Europe, and in 2001, a trip around the world. Most were in business.

The two memories that stand out the most to me from this trip both involved Xiamen, one of my favorite cities in China. Known as Amoy in earlier days, it had, on the island of Kulangsu, the “other” International Settlement (other than Shanghai) from imperialist days.

With no cars, the island was pedestrian friendly, and still full of colonial remnants, including a well-deserved reputation for music. This trip, we managed to stay on the island, in what I thought was a wonderful old hotel, but which was so primitive that I feared I’d have to barricade the doors to keep student protesters out. It didn’t mollify the students that the Wall Street Journal staff was quartered in the same hotel–for them it was a reward!

A funny story afterwards: I called to order the Far Eastern Economic Review (I was teaching an Asia Pacific freshman class at the time), and I got talking with Ms. Li, who worked for the Wall Street Journal Bureau in Beijing. “Oh, you must know Jim Macgregor, head of the Bureau,” I suggested. “How do you know him?” “He headed the only other group at Gulangyu Island when we were there several years ago.” “I was there–wait, I remember your students. They were the ones who whined!” Yes, IWU does have an international reputation!

The second memory was finding a shop that could make the impressive scrolls that hung on so many public meeting sights in China. I commissioned one that celebrated the last January Term and the Weidade Jiaoshou and his xiansheng who were on it. The banner used to hang in my office, and is now safely secured in my apartment.

I think this was also the year we stayed at the Palace Hotel in Shanghai, across from the more famous Sassoon House (now the Peace Hotel).

I believe it snowed in Shanghai this trip or the previous one, and a visit to Fudan University (the IWU of China, as was Yenching in Beijing) furnished my lesson to business students for several years. China was energy poor, and heat was limited south of the Yangtze River. Shanghai was south of the Yangtze, and so the school was unheated. We saw students in their down parkas in a study room, preparing for final exams. In later years, I would point out that their Chinese competitors took studying seriously. As Thomas Friedman pointed out, “They’re hungry for your jobs.”

China with Students: The First Time

You never forget your first (Reminiscences 2025)

If we turned toward the sea, we might have seen Quemoy from Xiamen

‘Tis said you never forget your first. I certainly remember big chunks of my first trip with students—to China and Korea. Imbued with enthusiasm and the taste for travel, I sought and failed to get one of my teaching assignments in business as a travel course. Instead, George Kieh of International Studies was willing to house a January-term course entitled, “Trade and Diplomacy on the China Coast,” a play on the book by the well-known China scholar, John Fairbanks. As I recall, IWU then called in a number of vendors who bid on the trip. I wound up working with a local operation, Suzi Davis, and would soon learn how to navigate the torturous channel that led the agency to use a wholesaler in the US who would use a wholesaler in China who would arrange with a Chinese retailer….you get the fuzzy picture. To make the trip work, I applied for a grant from the “Fred Foundation,” paying my own way to make sure the numbers worked.

The trip would go to China and Korea. As I said, an opportunity to share my excitement and discovery with 10-25 students for two to three weeks, mixing business with history and culture.

In those days, we flew via Japan Air to Tokyo, stayed overnight in an airport hotel whose rooms were barely larger than a closet, then flew on to Hong Kong for a gradual introduction to “China.” Hong Kong still had some manufacturing, but it was clear that Southern China was soon going to be the factory to the world, and Hong Kong the transshipment point.

We were going to Guangzhou and staying on Shamian Island, which still had many of the old colonial buildings from the days it was THE international area. Cannons from the Opium War, sites from the postcards I collected!

Most of our meals were together and the one-table lazy-susan format became quite normal for us.

We had an interesting visit with the American Consul at the Dongfeng Hotel. He closed the door and explained China’s “environmental” policy at the time: Build a nuclear reactor at the edge of the ocean and dump the waste in the sea. One of the students observed the contradiction between the man/nature relationship in painting, and the rampant pollution in the air and the water he saw everywhere. However astute the comment, he fell in love with snake wine and decided to purchase a gallon jug (with pickled snake inside) in Guangzhou, which he carried with him for the rest of the trip. When he got home, his mom shried, and made him put it on the porch. It being winter, the wine froze, expanded, broke the glass, and freed wine and snake. Lesson learned.

We had an interesting flight somewhere. We were at the wrong gate, but our guide’s boyfriend was a traffic controller and I think he held the flight–to the disgruntlement of the passengers–until he could locate us. Pays to have friends in high places.

We took the train to Fuzhou, and once of the students cornered me and asked me if I’d seen the bathrooms on the train. “What’s the problem?” I asked her. “They’re holes in the ground,” adding, “I’ve never before experienced penis envy.”

On the plus side, we met a judge who invited us to his house for beer and peanuts and a discussion of how to get his son into Illinois Wesleyan University.

There followed the longer train ride from Fuzhou to the international settlement at Gulangsu in Xiamen (Amoy). This city had classical music wafting from colonial structures, and some of the charm of its historical past. I later learned that because it was across the straits from the Kuomintang-controlled Taiwan, it had been a military base and not much changed had been allowed. The accommodation was at a hotel with a honeymoon suite. John Archer and I shared it (only one faculty member was required at the time), with a vibrating heart shaped bed. Don’t ask. The boys came back disappointed from the massage parlor, complaining that they had gotten only a massage.

Ross’s father owned a McDs in Gibson City. Ross took 38 rolls of film. He’s probably still processing them.

In Shanghai, we stayed in the Palace Hotel, the former Sassoon Building, classic Art Deco of the 193os. The famed Jazz band was back, along with a restaurant on the top floor. When we went there for a meal, I spotted chopsticks with Peace Hotel markings. I was so excited I asked if I could buy a pair. The waiter said 25 yuan (or whatever), took my currency, and went to the next table. He picked up a pair and brought them back. The next 5 pairs were free, since I eliminated the middleman. I remember walking back from the discos at 1 am thinking, “I would never do this in Chicago.”

Beijing meant visiting the impressive sites that had dazzled and overwhelmed visitors from other countries, convincing them that China was the Middle Kingdom, a superior civilization. And of course, we spent time along the Great Wall, which had been a vain effort to keep the barbarians at bay and to mark the end of the civilized world. Being winter, many of the students purchased warm winter coats at the Red Army store I asked our guide to find for us.

That was not necessary considered appropriate apparel when we got to Korea, since China was North Korea’s biggest supporter (and maybe only friend). The students had another problem: they had bought so much in China that they were so broke they could not afford to go out of the hotel. Plus, Seoul was much more expensive than China. Luckily for them, I had played “Let’s make a deal” with one of our Korean students whose dad was a senior executive with Samsung. The son got an independent study course so he could return to Seoul for J Term. The grateful dad provided us with a guide, a bus, and all the meals we desired, and we went to Panmunjom, Samsung, and the King Sejong grave (he invented the Korean alphabet). As our last meal in Asia, he provided us with a meal at a private dining room at the top of the tallest building (at the time) in Asia, which included chateaubriand.

Everyone left happy, and I bet they remember that “first time” too.

Thanksgiving in Hong Kong

Reminiscences 2024

When I came back from my first trip to China in 1990, I was infected–the desire to return as often as possible, with and without students, had struck. Hence, when one of our alumni at the Chinese University of Hong Kong in Shatin told me about a conference over Thanksgiving 1993 (?), I HAD to go. Carolyn and I stayed in a faculty dorm overlooking the ocean in Shatin, and had a turkey dinner for Thanksgiving–along with a dragon dance! The conference explored some of the villages in Hong Kong that were distinctly different from the splash of Kowloon and Wanchai. Centuries different.

One highlight was high tea at the Peninsula, the old colonial hotel that was so posh the Japanese had commandeered it for their headquarters in 1942. While we were dressed up, it was more downscale than I had anticipated; the quartet played “Misty” rather than Schubert. I stopped at a tailor shop to get the first of my Harris Tweed jackets that were made for me and thus, fit. Suits and jackets, shirts and pants became regular additions to my wardrobe. Eventually, I had my “own tailor” (thanks to Ruth Ann) and my “own optician” in Hong Kong.

On the way home, I insisted we stop in Seoul and explore for a few days. We discovered Kalbi and other Korean dishes, the palaces, and more reasons to return when possible. As the blogs make clear, that happened.

A Foreword to International Travels with Fred 1990 to 2024 and beyond

Introduction to Fred Hoyt’s travel blog

Although I began the blog in 2008 as an effort to educate participants and their parents, as well as my Scout troop and family, not to mention jogging my memory from time to time….I wish I had started it in the beginning of my meanderings.

They started in 1989, when my son, David, was in Europe—for the third time. I mentioned to my wife that we had always wanted to go to Europe, but we had felt we couldn’t afford it—and we couldn’t afford it because we had been sending him. The logic escaped me.

A little later, she confessed that she had thought about it. The result? “I have tickets so we can join him in Paris for Christmas and New Year’s.”

“But I always go cross country skiing with my troop at that time,” I retorted.

“Which would you rather do?”

“Where should I send you the postcard from Eagle River?”

“You can take the exam as many times as you want until you get it right,” she offered. The third time I got it right.

Paris at Christmas. Midnight mass in Notre Dame, one of the most moving experiences of my life. Christmas ’89 also marked the end of the evil empire. Our hotel was around the corner from the Rumanian embassy, and the anti-Ceausescu crowd besieged the embassy as we watched his fall and execution on the TV. It was exhilarating to see so many places we would read about or had seen in picture books. It stoked my appetite for travel.

June 5, 1990. Access to the Square was restricted. “Take your picture and take the poster down”

There was a trip to China, through IWU, that followed in 1990. I was chosen with Tom Griffiths to accompany an ISU delegation as guests of the China Publication Bureau. The Bureau sent some employees each year to ISU, and in return hosted ISU (and IWU) faculty members. It was a dream come true. China–from Hong Kong to Guangzhou, Kunming, Shanghai, Xian and Beijing. My long-disused Chinese (3 years at the University of Illinois) returned. I visited places I’d not only read about, but written about in my dissertation. I imagined gunboats at Shanghai, kowtowing to the Emperor in the Forbidden City, or wreaking havoc at the old Summer Palace. An exotic atmosphere marked our trip from Kunming to Dali (home of the Bai nationality. The 11-hour bus ride with academics on the old

Cannon on Shamian commemorating the Opium War

Burma Road was punctuated with verses of “Hello Dali,” and puns touting the best bais in Dali. By the end of the trip, I understood why the people I had written about in my dissertation, “Americans in China and the Myth of the China Market,” never wanted to come home. I did not either.

An epiphany took place a year or two later, as I sat and mused at the Florida Keys with my Scout troop. The leisure gave me an opportunity to ponder what it meant to be 50. I realized that I had better do what I wanted to do whenever I had the chance. It was as true at 20 as at 50, but I’m glad I had the impetus to seize whatever opportunities I had—and to make some I didn’t have. For the next almost thirty years, I traveled whenever I could. And it started to come down to at least 4 options, as you’ll see in the blogs in this book.

First, the January and then May term trips with Illinois Wesleyan students.

If you look closely, you can see Quemoy from Xiamen

Macau Where Caleb Cushing signed the unequal treaty with China in 1844

On the way out by 1994 Tip was now expected

As I said, an opportunity to share my excitement and discovery with 10-25 students for two to three weeks, mixing business with history and culture. What excitement to visit the old foreign enclave in Xiamen, the international settlement at Kulangsu in Amoy, with classical music wafting from crumbling colonial structures, visiting various spots along the

John and I shared the honeymoon suite in Xiamen

Ross’ dad owned McD’s franchises in Gibson City

Great Wall, a vain effort to keep the barbarians at bay and to mark the end of the civilized world. We stayed in the Palace Hotel in the former Sasson Building, classic Art Deco of the 193os. The famed Jazz band was back, along with a restaurant on the top floor. When we went there for a meal, I spotted chopsticks with Peace Hotel markings. I was so excited I asked if I could buy a pair. The waiter said 25 yuan (or whatever), took my currency, and went to the next table. He picked up a pair and brought them back. The next 5 pairs were free, since I eliminated the middleman.

We went to Korea as well, and students were so broke they could not afford to go out of the hotel. However, I had played “Let’s make a deal” with one of our Korean students whose dad was a senior executive with Samsung. He provided us with a guide, a bus, and all the meals we desired, and we went to Panmunjom, Samsung, and the King Sejong grave (he invented the Korean alphabet).

The 1994 visits gradually spread to include other Asian countries, revealing the historical importance of China, and watching the rebirth of the dragon. In 2001—the last trip before 9/11—it was an ambitious venture around the world, via London to New Delhi, to Bangkok, Bali, Saigon, and Hong Kong. Many stops at the airport hotel in Bangkok, since most of the flights were on Thai Air, and routed through the capital of Thailand. May added opportunities to extend the trips and go places I probably wouldn’t take students—such as Mongolia, Tibet, and parts of Eastern Europe.

Second, in my 40 years as Scoutmaster of Troop 19, Best You’ve Seen, a Normal (Illinois) troop that became close to Normal when it moved in 2021 to Bloomington, several of our high adventure trips spilled into excursions. In 1993, coming back from the last hundred miles on the Appalachian Trail in Maine, one of the boys suggested coming back through French Canada. Quebec and Montreal kindled thoughts of Europe—but also of New France, which included the one-time French fort (de Chartres) that marked early settlement in the Illinois Country, and where we had discovered the Rendezvous that provided November and June encampments that became a regular calendar commitment. We also went to the Bahamas sailing, and kayaking and glacial climbing in Alaska, with a blip into the Yukon territories, which yielded our only bear sighting. The Canadian jaunts increased my understanding of the French/British wars for North America. The Bahamas trips were my initial contact with the Caribbean. We skirted “international” on the St. Croix in Maine in 2019. The river is the boundary between the United States and Canada. On one island, we ate in Canada, and slept in the United States! Those trips are detailed in a separate volume, gifted to me for my 40 years as Scoutmaster.

The third source of my travels came courtesy (in part) of the US Government. In an effort to educate business people and faculty, the government funded several university outreaches. The Faculty Development in International Business (FDIB) afforded me opportunities to travel with other faculty to explore business and culture in foreign countries. I went on one early to China, Hong Kong, and Bangkok, and realized these would be good preparation for my student trips. The University provided initial funding through a grant, and the trips became addictive. Most were supported by the “Fred Foundation,” investments in knowledge and pleasure. When IWU curtailed my May terms, the FDIB trips to Cuba, Latin America, and Africa expanded my knowledge of international business.

Fourth, Carolyn had come on parts of trips with me, sometimes during and sometimes for extended trips afterwards. She was especially intrigued by a Baltic visit as a chaperone to the IWU choir. I promised instead that we would go cruising, and I kept my word. That began over a decade of trips, mostly Europe and the Mediterranean, which culminated in a land tour in March 2020, when Covid and we arrived at about the same time in Spain. She accompanied me on a number of business conference trips, including Viet Nam (shortly after it was opened to foreigners), my 1997 sabbatical to India and Southeast Asia, New Zealand, and China/Korea. In addition, she came to along on some of my student trips.

The blogs in these volumes fall into one (or more) of these categories. Some are reminiscences done in 2024-5 when I was compiling these entries.

Prelude: An introduction to Fred Hoyt’s travels with students

I discovered international travel late, about the same time that I came to Illinois Wesleyan University.

Part of my enlightenment occurred in 1989, when my son, David, was in Europe—for the third time. I mentioned to my wife that we had always wanted to go to Europe, but we had felt we couldn’t afford it—and we couldn’t afford it now because we had been sending him. The logic escaped me.

A little later, she confessed that she had thought about it. The result? “I have tickets so we can join him in Paris for Christmas and New Year’s.”

“But I always go cross country skiing with my troop at that time,” I retorted.

“Which would you rather do?”

“Where should I send you the postcard from Eagle River?”

“You can take the exam as many times as you want until you get it right,” she offered. The third time I got it right.

My long-disused Chinese (3 years at the University of Illinois) returned. I visited places I’d not only read about, but written about in my dissertation. I imagined gunboats at Shanghai, kowtowing to the Emperor in the Forbidden City, or wreaking havoc at the old Summer Palace. An exotic atmosphere marked our trip from Kunming to Dali (home of the Bai nationality. The 11-hour bus ride with academics on the old Burma Road was punctuated with verses of “Hello Dali,” and puns touting the best bais (the dominant nationality) in Dali. By the end of the trip, I understood why the people I had written about in my dissertation, “Americans in China and the Myth of the China Market,” never wanted to come home. I did not either.

My first trip was in January 1994 (see the next entry). The 1994 visits gradually spread to include other Asian countries, revealing the historical importance of China, and watching the rebirth of the dragon. In 2001—the last trip before 9/11—it was an ambitious venture around the world, via London to New Delhi, to Bangkok, Bali, Saigon, and Hong Kong. Many stops at the airport hotel in Bangkok, since most of the flights were on Thai Air, and routed through the capital of Thailand. I also ventured into parts of Europe, culminating in 2013, which went from London to (for me) Lvov.

May added opportunities to extend the trips and go places I probably wouldn’t take students—such as Mongolia, Tibet, and parts of Eastern Europe. These are included here.

Some of those were with my wife. Carolyn, who her own professional career, and thus had fewer opportunities to join me, given the constraints of her job. Nevertheless, Carolyn came on parts of trips, sometimes during and sometimes for extended trips afterwards. She was especially intrigued by a Baltic visit as a chaperone to the IWU choir. I promised instead that we would go cruising, and I kept my word. That began over a decade of trips, mostly Europe and the Mediterranean, which culminated in a land tour in March 2020, when Covid and we arrived at about the same time in Spain. She accompanied me on a number of business conference trips, including Viet Nam (shortly after it was opened to foreigners), my 1997 sabbatical to India and Southeast Asia, New Zealand, and China/Korea. These are documented in my blogs, but, unless connected with student trips, not in this book.

Another companion on trips and after trips was my son, David, whose long efforts on the fringes of the academy left him freer than Carolyn to join me, and so father and son traveled to Laos, Malaysia, Indonesia, Central China, and the Wild West of Xinjiang.

A third fellow traveler was a student turned alumni, JR Glen. An Eagle Scout from Lincoln, JR was a great assist as we visited Tibet, Mongolia, and Burma.

Carolyn was a little uncomfortable with my traveling alone, but I did so in Eastern Europe and various places in “the East.” I would arrange the addons with (usually) Value Holidays of Mequon Wisconsin who would see to it I had guides and hotels and transportation. Thus, on my own, I explored Cambodia, Manchuria, Korea, Yunnan, and other parts of Chinese. With a combination of hubris and a modest but improving Chinese vocabulary, I might add.

The travel courses that I either led or seconded were among the most rewarding experiences I had at IWU, and I think they were appreciated, or at least remembered, by participants. As I was compiling these blogs and recreating some missing gaps (it’s amazing how much I remembered!), I drew on their pictures too, many of them still posted on Facebook at a distance of over a decade. Pictures up despite many of them drowning their posts in contemporary portraits of their growing families! I thank them for their contributions to my memories of IWU—and for their shared pictures.

After 2013, my trips changed. came courtesy (in part) of the US Government. In an effort to educate business people and faculty, the government funded several university outreaches. The Faculty Development in International Business (FDIB) afforded me opportunities to travel with other faculty to explore business and culture in foreign countries. I went on in the 1990s to China, Hong Kong, and Bangkok, and realized these would be good preparation for my student trips. The University provided initial funding through a grant, and the trips became addictive. Most were supported by the “Fred Foundation,” investments in knowledge and pleasure. When IWU curtailed my May terms, the FDIB trips to Cuba, Latin America, and Africa expanded my knowledge of international business.

And finally, I continued to travel with Carolyn as we cruised the Mediterranean and European rivers.

My recollections (contemporary or otherwise) are in the blog, if you’re interested. As I said, this particular collection is focused on the student trips for nearly two decades.

Safe travels and good reading; what a combination.

Frederick Hoyt, Emeritus Associate Professor of Business, June 2025