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My mother-in-law stands out like a sore thumb in America. She wears a black, fancy dress for a day walking around New York or DC. She carries hot tea wherever she goes. She stands in the middle of busy pedestrian traffic. She walks through exits and doesn't understand how to use a crosswalk. About the only thing that makes Dr Song not stand out in America is her kindly demeanor and her desire to interact with almost every child she sees. To her, white children are the cutest things in the world - bonus points for being blond. The most annoying thing for me about my mother in law is her sun umbrella which MUST be opened any time she is in the sun. We can't walk on the sunny side of the street. People stare. People laugh. A teenage street musician in battery park yelled, "it goin' rain lady? It don't look like rain! I sure hope it don't rain." I got pissed but Ma Ma just laughed, only seeing the smile and not the jape. I wanted to confront the kid. "She's Chinese, dick. You ain't never seen a Chinese woman with an umbrella?" I'm sensitive to this kind of thing. It's a character flaw I need to fix. Those with me reflect on me. It's stupid and not true but the stares at my out-of-place and disruptive mother in law drive me nuts with embarrassment. Yeah I told you, character flaw. Don't get me started on trying to pay with change wrapped in a tissue! Doesn't she see the 3 people in line behind her?! She and her husband commented on the politeness of Americans but what they don't know is that after the third "Excuse me.." The phrase becomes a curse and might be followed up by a real one. You can't hold up a line in America without raising everyone's blood pressure behind you. It's not done and if you do it for no good reason - like trying to get rid of loose change - you are a first class asshole. The umbrella is the worst offense. It's not raining. It gets in the way of everything. It pokes unsuspecting eyes out. It's a hazard AND an attention getter. I cringe every time it comes out and it comes out every time to the bemusement, curiosity and scorn of Americans everywhere we go. So, here I am back in China with an hour to people watch in Starbucks downtown. It's a rare sunny day. Guess what. Lots of women young and old with umbrellas. I've included photos taken over the course of about 2 minutes. Women who thoughtlessly left their colorful silky parasols at home today scamper towards the shaded cover in front of the Starbucks or hold fliers over their heads for protection. I did a quick count - about 60% of the women walking by hold parasols. Huang Rui is one of the 40% who don't. "I like my skin dark." This preference for light skin is obvious to any student of history. In any society in which out-door manual labor is common and low class, light skin is a mark of social class. A tan is not yet the ideal of feminine beauty in China among the bulk of the female population. To be pale is to be beautiful. So, again what is normative and expected in one place seems outlandish in another. In fact, it seems downright crazy in America for someone to hold an umbrella. Some few might recall images of Victorian women walking the streets with them, still a few more might know what it's for but most still look on the practice as evidence of craziness. The hard part is to totally suspend judgement. My wife saw a homeless man in New York wearing winter clothes on a 90 degree day. She asked me why and my initial thought was mental illness. Of course, if I had to carry everything I owned on me I might consider wearing my overcoat on my back too. Everything in this world is relative when dealing with people. What makes me stable and mostly normal in America makes me crazy here. What makes a man crazy for wearing a winter coat makes him a fairly normal homeless person. But not really. Insanity is really only when your delusional ideas don't mesh with the delusions So the lesson from all this for me is a compromise between maintaining my American, New England cultural identity while at the same time becoming Chinese in ways that make me seem less insane to those around me. |
我要绿茶一杯
The prospect of moving to Chengdu at times both terrifies and thrills me. As my successful week here draws to a close, I can't help but feel a certain sense of concern. Ordering tea from the young girl at the tea house seemed inordinately hard. Green tea is "Lu Cha" and asking her for a glass involves me saying, "I want one glass green tea." She looked at me confused. Maybe I didn't need to say "green"? I have such trouble with that word. When she repeated my order back to me she pronounced the "ch” in "Cha" more like "tsah" which I believe to be the Sichuan dialect. I know in mandarin it is simply a "ch" sound, almost identical to English. Why would the girl not understand? Things like this perplex me. I'm drinking my tea so I suppose I've been successful.
Earlier in the week, after a very stressful day that included getting married and negotiating my salary at my new job, Huang Rui and I went out for a large celebratory dinner with many of her friends. I was really looking forward to the dinner. I would see Jia Jia, Wei and his British-educated wife, the sarcastic and beautiful Ma Dan, my new sister Amy and her boyfriend Cargo, and my good friend and "little brother" Teacher Liu among others. Huang Rui and I, as is the custom, hosted the dinner at a restaurant Rui picked due to its rustic setting. By the time the food came, I was not feeling right. We were fourteen for dinner and the table was overflowing with food. Not a single bite seemed appealing to me. As each group came in, these people that I thought I knew so well barely paid me any mind. A cursory smile and hello from Liu Lao Shi was all I got, along with a pronouncement that he had forgotten all his English. It's not like we haven't been in touch in the last 9 months - we've talked a lot.
I drank congee from a saucer in the village style,despite my revulsion at the watered down rice drink. I toasted my job and my wedding a dozen times with beer. I had a tiny dish filled with too spicy food that I did not wish to eat. The conversation continued in Chinese around me. I was exhausted, hot, and feeling rather ill. Rui noticed my discomfort and was sympathetic. It seemed that the friends I had made last year were no longer interested in the tall white novelty their friend had brought to Chengdu last summer.
However, mood colors all things. I was grossly uncomfortable in my suit and tie. Rui and I were over-dressed. Amy was sick, badly so. Liu Lao Shi had brought his beautiful and young girl-friend - at 20 she was quite the child in this company of adults and perhaps his reticence was due in part to his discomfort that such relationships can bring to an established social dynamic. Liu was, after all,the only guy in this group of Chinese girl friends last year. Bringing the romantic interest to the company of your female friends always causes a level of discomfort. As a man with as many close female friends male, I know this tension very well. Jia Jia was her usual vivacious self, and truth be told I was isolated between a brooding Cargo and Rui and her best-friend Ju Yi, whom we had dinned with last night. I felt like shit. The lack of sleep and the day of fear that my marriage wouldn't happen along with my job falling through had taken an emotional toll. The night ended on an up-note. We played a game of "Spy" which everyone seemed to enjoy. I gradually felt okay and was actually a bit disappointed when we called it a night.
My concern about my move proved to be grossly unfounded and clearly was a product of the reality I had created for myself - a lesson of Eastern spirituality I should be well-versed in by now. Last night was Liu Lao Shi's birthday party - hosted by him at the Harley Davidson Club downtown. Rui and I arrived straight from a dinner with her college roommates and friend who was in town on business. After a delightful conversation and great meal with them, I found myself sitting next to the Liu Lao Shi's enigmatic spiritual guide as the older man sipped green tea next to his apparent mistress, "Smart Sister" whom I had met last year. Smart Sister had been so drunk when we first met that Liu Lao Shi had to carry her home. Now, sitting next to Mr. Jiang, she seemed calmer. She was pleased to show me the picture of the two of us from last summer.
What followed was a dizzying array of introductions and re-introductions to people who had been on the periphery of my time last summer. I spoke at length to Ben, an English teacher turned journalism prof. We had a deep and thoughtful conversation about education. He told me that the reason Liu Lao Shi and I were such fast friends was our mutual love of adventure and new experiences. He called me a warrior for risking this move to China.
Next came an embarrassment: Eve, the beautiful and tentative tour guide from the distillery Liu Lao Shi had taken me to last year was so hurt when I failed to recognize her. After a while I sat with her to apologize. We traded contact info and chatted about her job, and the prospects of getting Bai Jiu to take off in the US. Within minutes, Eve told me of her recent heartbreak - Ben, her boyfriend of five years and the guy I had just been talking to had just broken up with her. "People change" I assured her. Her hurt at my failure to recognize her, along with the happy greetings I shared with half a dozen friends of Liu Lao Shi lifted my spirits. These people would prove to be my friends. The language would prove a barrier with some, but it would work fine.
Where was Panda, the hip, tattooed and jet-setting man I had met last year? Oh he was on his way. His pregnant wife Vivian was already in attendance. Panda and I had yet another great conversation about life, video games, parenting and politics. He is funny, cool and exceptionally nerdy.
The night ended with Huang Rui being called up to the mic to get her party favor and Liu called me up as well. Rui was tired tonight, yet I think she could see I was having a good time and didn't want to leave. Now we stood on stage together as Liu Lao Shi announced our recent nuptials. The call came for us to kiss. (This was all in Chinese of course but context is hardly tough to miss). Rui took the mic and refused with a brief statement. The calls continued. I joked that I would kiss Liu. I took the mic finally and said, "as my lovely wife no doubt just said, tonight is your night Liu Lao Shi, not ours."
Returning to our table I asked her what she had said. "I told them today is Liu Lao Shi's birthday party." she paused, "What did you say?"
"The same thing."
I remembered now, why I was moving here. Despite the cultural and linguistic differences between us, she is all I can ask for in a partner.
Earlier in the week, after a very stressful day that included getting married and negotiating my salary at my new job, Huang Rui and I went out for a large celebratory dinner with many of her friends. I was really looking forward to the dinner. I would see Jia Jia, Wei and his British-educated wife, the sarcastic and beautiful Ma Dan, my new sister Amy and her boyfriend Cargo, and my good friend and "little brother" Teacher Liu among others. Huang Rui and I, as is the custom, hosted the dinner at a restaurant Rui picked due to its rustic setting. By the time the food came, I was not feeling right. We were fourteen for dinner and the table was overflowing with food. Not a single bite seemed appealing to me. As each group came in, these people that I thought I knew so well barely paid me any mind. A cursory smile and hello from Liu Lao Shi was all I got, along with a pronouncement that he had forgotten all his English. It's not like we haven't been in touch in the last 9 months - we've talked a lot.
I drank congee from a saucer in the village style,despite my revulsion at the watered down rice drink. I toasted my job and my wedding a dozen times with beer. I had a tiny dish filled with too spicy food that I did not wish to eat. The conversation continued in Chinese around me. I was exhausted, hot, and feeling rather ill. Rui noticed my discomfort and was sympathetic. It seemed that the friends I had made last year were no longer interested in the tall white novelty their friend had brought to Chengdu last summer.
However, mood colors all things. I was grossly uncomfortable in my suit and tie. Rui and I were over-dressed. Amy was sick, badly so. Liu Lao Shi had brought his beautiful and young girl-friend - at 20 she was quite the child in this company of adults and perhaps his reticence was due in part to his discomfort that such relationships can bring to an established social dynamic. Liu was, after all,the only guy in this group of Chinese girl friends last year. Bringing the romantic interest to the company of your female friends always causes a level of discomfort. As a man with as many close female friends male, I know this tension very well. Jia Jia was her usual vivacious self, and truth be told I was isolated between a brooding Cargo and Rui and her best-friend Ju Yi, whom we had dinned with last night. I felt like shit. The lack of sleep and the day of fear that my marriage wouldn't happen along with my job falling through had taken an emotional toll. The night ended on an up-note. We played a game of "Spy" which everyone seemed to enjoy. I gradually felt okay and was actually a bit disappointed when we called it a night.
My concern about my move proved to be grossly unfounded and clearly was a product of the reality I had created for myself - a lesson of Eastern spirituality I should be well-versed in by now. Last night was Liu Lao Shi's birthday party - hosted by him at the Harley Davidson Club downtown. Rui and I arrived straight from a dinner with her college roommates and friend who was in town on business. After a delightful conversation and great meal with them, I found myself sitting next to the Liu Lao Shi's enigmatic spiritual guide as the older man sipped green tea next to his apparent mistress, "Smart Sister" whom I had met last year. Smart Sister had been so drunk when we first met that Liu Lao Shi had to carry her home. Now, sitting next to Mr. Jiang, she seemed calmer. She was pleased to show me the picture of the two of us from last summer.
What followed was a dizzying array of introductions and re-introductions to people who had been on the periphery of my time last summer. I spoke at length to Ben, an English teacher turned journalism prof. We had a deep and thoughtful conversation about education. He told me that the reason Liu Lao Shi and I were such fast friends was our mutual love of adventure and new experiences. He called me a warrior for risking this move to China.
Next came an embarrassment: Eve, the beautiful and tentative tour guide from the distillery Liu Lao Shi had taken me to last year was so hurt when I failed to recognize her. After a while I sat with her to apologize. We traded contact info and chatted about her job, and the prospects of getting Bai Jiu to take off in the US. Within minutes, Eve told me of her recent heartbreak - Ben, her boyfriend of five years and the guy I had just been talking to had just broken up with her. "People change" I assured her. Her hurt at my failure to recognize her, along with the happy greetings I shared with half a dozen friends of Liu Lao Shi lifted my spirits. These people would prove to be my friends. The language would prove a barrier with some, but it would work fine.
Where was Panda, the hip, tattooed and jet-setting man I had met last year? Oh he was on his way. His pregnant wife Vivian was already in attendance. Panda and I had yet another great conversation about life, video games, parenting and politics. He is funny, cool and exceptionally nerdy.
The night ended with Huang Rui being called up to the mic to get her party favor and Liu called me up as well. Rui was tired tonight, yet I think she could see I was having a good time and didn't want to leave. Now we stood on stage together as Liu Lao Shi announced our recent nuptials. The call came for us to kiss. (This was all in Chinese of course but context is hardly tough to miss). Rui took the mic and refused with a brief statement. The calls continued. I joked that I would kiss Liu. I took the mic finally and said, "as my lovely wife no doubt just said, tonight is your night Liu Lao Shi, not ours."
Returning to our table I asked her what she had said. "I told them today is Liu Lao Shi's birthday party." she paused, "What did you say?"
"The same thing."
I remembered now, why I was moving here. Despite the cultural and linguistic differences between us, she is all I can ask for in a partner.
(So I figure these and other potentially interesting topics will be the subject of my blog for a while)
I have been waiting a while to “come out” as it were about my move to China. I told many people close to me, but I have to admit I left my folks out for awhile. Sorry Mom and Dad, I just wanted all my ducks in a row before I broached that topic.
Worst left out were some Barlow kids. I've been having these conversations about the future with kids, about classes they are taking and the club I run. A few came to talk about next year a couple months ago, about taking Anthro. Others asked about a summer trip to China. Another made an iPad ap from a simulation I designed and offered it to me. I sorta just had to smile and shrug. It will all work out for them. It’s really not a big deal. It’s really cute actually. I teach each lesson for the last time, so I’m trying to do it right.
My decision to move is primarily one of practicality and adventure rolled into the same strange Chinese ball with a dragon on it. I live, by the way, in an apartment full of Chinese stuff and I’m moving to China for a couple years. And no, you can’t have it. Well, you can have some of it. Maybe, if you are nice. You can have my red Mao t shirt. It doesn't fit and I can buy a dozen Mao t shirts wholesale now and sell them over here. .
Oh yes, practicality. China is a place where by sheer virtue of my birth and mother tongue - in which I happen to be quite fluent - I am in demand. As Xi Lin, my Chinese doctor, said “Big fish in small pond.” She did that in a Chinese accent. Because she is Chinese. It was kinda cliche, like a wise old Chinese doctor giving me an ancient Chinese proverb delivered in slightly broken English. China is full of cliches like that. They actually talk in idioms. Funny thing that about stereotypes.
So it’s practical for me to move to China with Huang Rui for at least a couple of years. She has a great job, and a nice apartment with a great network of friends and family. I can teach English there easily enough. Right now, I’m hoping to land a job at a prestigious Chengdu public school working on literacy and writing with EFL students. That’s English as a Foreign Language students - totally new challenge in my career as well. China struggles with an ancient, traditional education system that tests students mercilessly and promotes only those that succeed on those tests.
It’s practical also, because for some reason I really want to learn Mandarin. Can’t do that unless you live around Mandarin speakers. The know me catch me speaking Chinese into a phone quite often. Don’t be impressed, I am reciting well-used every day phrases like “I’m at school.” or “Very good.” Once and awhile, I’m clarifying a point of grammar.
It’s also adventure. It’s Asia. I’m going to be living in the Sichuan Basin, in a city that has stood for near 5,000 years. I’m at the literal foot of the tallest mountains in the world. The Tibetan plateau’s foothills start an hours’ drive north east. I’m about as far away from an ocean as you can be on earth and close to a huge portion of earth’s drinking water, locked up in the Himalayan glaciers, which feed the Indus river, the Yangtze and even the Yellow rivers. Sight of the ancient Shu Kingdom, Sichuan is a lush and warm valley that is bathed in moisture all year long. I won’t see the sun much but I will be surrounded by a peaceful society in which beauty and refinement is still prized above much. I will walk through lush gardens, sip hot tea and read quietly.
Not only am I going to be learning to shit in a porcelain hole in the floor, but I will also be eating all sorts of crazy food. I’m going to go out a couple times a week to KTV and fancy dinners. People are always going to be looking at me. I’ll be “the American.” People will compliment me a lot on my Chinese, to which I will respond, laughing, “Where? Where?” I'm going to be
I won’t shake hands but I will be rubbing up against people in line or on the subway as I commute to work in downtown Chengdu. I’ll likely shower a lot more. I’ll maybe have to wear a suit, a tropical one. That’s right. I’ll be married too. Huang Rui is really at the heart of this. Without her, I couldn’t possibly be imagining this move. Hell, she is the reason I’m doing it. A lot of you met her. She’s amazing and I’m in love. You can tell a lot about someone even when you don’t share a common language. That is literally the polar opposite of every other relationship I’ve ever had, which was based (usually) on shared intellectual interests coupled with physical attraction. Without the ability to engage in very quick and high level conversation, Huang Rui and I have to take our time to communicate. It’s like that with everyone I meet in China. Talk about an exercise in presentness.
Asia is the other side of the world. I can fly to Beijing, Tokyo or Seoul in 3 hours. I can go ride horses in Mongolia or explore the jungles of Thailand. I can hike New Zealand, vacation in Bali or Malaysia. I can visit Lhasa and cruise down the Yangzi River. I can party in Singapore, Hong Kong or Shanghai. I can go to India. It’s really close. Australia? 10 hour flight. Bahrain, the same.
I’m leaving my country behind. Oh well. I’ll watch the USA from a far, seeing you through the scope of Communist heathen overlords who monitor every word I write. I prefer to think of myself as human anyway, I’m past being American and if you don’t like that, well then fuck you. I’m hardly expatriating. I don’t think you can actually become a citizen of China anyway. Well, I was wrong. Apparently anybody can. I just looked it up. Apparently it’s also pretty damn easy. Not that I’d do that. Any man would be a fool to give up his United States citizenship. I’m an American dammit, I think of myself first. I may be a godless, neo-Marxist historian who openly mocks religious belief standing up as moral authority, who thinks that yes, we should take all the damn guns away and you can fight it out with knives, but I was still born in this country. I get it.
Of course, you may think it’s funny that I - with my social justice politics and Marxist leanings - am going to live in a Communist country but what is really funny is that the Chinese put Americans to shame when it comes to the almighty dollar. China is like the America in the roaring 20’s. Don’t let the American media fool you on that score and don’t take that analogy any further than the imagery it invokes.* There are 1.4 billion people there, who have the same bug we have. I kinda want to see how that is going to play out and maybe cash in a bit considering that as a historian, the development of the human animal is a spectator sport for me (the only one I enjoy, I might ad). America is getting kinda dull, abortion blah blah, racism blah blah, gun control and whining..the Germans didn't eat our lunch, the Japanese only had a ten-year snack but the Chinese are going to eat. our. lunch. With chopsticks.
I’m basically hitting the reset button on my life. I’m going to leave friends and family behind physically - while remaining connected virtually. I’m going to leave here with literally the clothes on my back and in two suitcases and an iPad mini provided by Huang Rui through Mercedes Benz. Why? Because frankly the opportunity presented itself. That is literally why. I love my job at Barlow and my friends. Last time I hit the reset button I was miserable and hitting that button sent me on an adventure a decade ago. I’m a totally different person. In an eastern and deeply philosophical mythos the person who left an unsatisfying life in Boston no longer is alive. We all live moment to moment after all. The past is gone and the future is unmade and all that stuff. When I die...and at 40 you suddenly think about death…I want to able to just say, “Oh well, here it comes, that was a meaningful experience. I did my best.” before I fade into oblivion, secretly praying to Jesus that reincarnation is real. And so that brings me full circle to the “Old Master” Lao Zi and Zen. And that is a fitting Asian cliche on which to end this stream of consciousness.
*Historical comparisons are almost always flawed and are generally not predictive anyway.
Worst left out were some Barlow kids. I've been having these conversations about the future with kids, about classes they are taking and the club I run. A few came to talk about next year a couple months ago, about taking Anthro. Others asked about a summer trip to China. Another made an iPad ap from a simulation I designed and offered it to me. I sorta just had to smile and shrug. It will all work out for them. It’s really not a big deal. It’s really cute actually. I teach each lesson for the last time, so I’m trying to do it right.
My decision to move is primarily one of practicality and adventure rolled into the same strange Chinese ball with a dragon on it. I live, by the way, in an apartment full of Chinese stuff and I’m moving to China for a couple years. And no, you can’t have it. Well, you can have some of it. Maybe, if you are nice. You can have my red Mao t shirt. It doesn't fit and I can buy a dozen Mao t shirts wholesale now and sell them over here. .
Oh yes, practicality. China is a place where by sheer virtue of my birth and mother tongue - in which I happen to be quite fluent - I am in demand. As Xi Lin, my Chinese doctor, said “Big fish in small pond.” She did that in a Chinese accent. Because she is Chinese. It was kinda cliche, like a wise old Chinese doctor giving me an ancient Chinese proverb delivered in slightly broken English. China is full of cliches like that. They actually talk in idioms. Funny thing that about stereotypes.
So it’s practical for me to move to China with Huang Rui for at least a couple of years. She has a great job, and a nice apartment with a great network of friends and family. I can teach English there easily enough. Right now, I’m hoping to land a job at a prestigious Chengdu public school working on literacy and writing with EFL students. That’s English as a Foreign Language students - totally new challenge in my career as well. China struggles with an ancient, traditional education system that tests students mercilessly and promotes only those that succeed on those tests.
It’s practical also, because for some reason I really want to learn Mandarin. Can’t do that unless you live around Mandarin speakers. The know me catch me speaking Chinese into a phone quite often. Don’t be impressed, I am reciting well-used every day phrases like “I’m at school.” or “Very good.” Once and awhile, I’m clarifying a point of grammar.
It’s also adventure. It’s Asia. I’m going to be living in the Sichuan Basin, in a city that has stood for near 5,000 years. I’m at the literal foot of the tallest mountains in the world. The Tibetan plateau’s foothills start an hours’ drive north east. I’m about as far away from an ocean as you can be on earth and close to a huge portion of earth’s drinking water, locked up in the Himalayan glaciers, which feed the Indus river, the Yangtze and even the Yellow rivers. Sight of the ancient Shu Kingdom, Sichuan is a lush and warm valley that is bathed in moisture all year long. I won’t see the sun much but I will be surrounded by a peaceful society in which beauty and refinement is still prized above much. I will walk through lush gardens, sip hot tea and read quietly.
Not only am I going to be learning to shit in a porcelain hole in the floor, but I will also be eating all sorts of crazy food. I’m going to go out a couple times a week to KTV and fancy dinners. People are always going to be looking at me. I’ll be “the American.” People will compliment me a lot on my Chinese, to which I will respond, laughing, “Where? Where?” I'm going to be
I won’t shake hands but I will be rubbing up against people in line or on the subway as I commute to work in downtown Chengdu. I’ll likely shower a lot more. I’ll maybe have to wear a suit, a tropical one. That’s right. I’ll be married too. Huang Rui is really at the heart of this. Without her, I couldn’t possibly be imagining this move. Hell, she is the reason I’m doing it. A lot of you met her. She’s amazing and I’m in love. You can tell a lot about someone even when you don’t share a common language. That is literally the polar opposite of every other relationship I’ve ever had, which was based (usually) on shared intellectual interests coupled with physical attraction. Without the ability to engage in very quick and high level conversation, Huang Rui and I have to take our time to communicate. It’s like that with everyone I meet in China. Talk about an exercise in presentness.
Asia is the other side of the world. I can fly to Beijing, Tokyo or Seoul in 3 hours. I can go ride horses in Mongolia or explore the jungles of Thailand. I can hike New Zealand, vacation in Bali or Malaysia. I can visit Lhasa and cruise down the Yangzi River. I can party in Singapore, Hong Kong or Shanghai. I can go to India. It’s really close. Australia? 10 hour flight. Bahrain, the same.
I’m leaving my country behind. Oh well. I’ll watch the USA from a far, seeing you through the scope of Communist heathen overlords who monitor every word I write. I prefer to think of myself as human anyway, I’m past being American and if you don’t like that, well then fuck you. I’m hardly expatriating. I don’t think you can actually become a citizen of China anyway. Well, I was wrong. Apparently anybody can. I just looked it up. Apparently it’s also pretty damn easy. Not that I’d do that. Any man would be a fool to give up his United States citizenship. I’m an American dammit, I think of myself first. I may be a godless, neo-Marxist historian who openly mocks religious belief standing up as moral authority, who thinks that yes, we should take all the damn guns away and you can fight it out with knives, but I was still born in this country. I get it.
Of course, you may think it’s funny that I - with my social justice politics and Marxist leanings - am going to live in a Communist country but what is really funny is that the Chinese put Americans to shame when it comes to the almighty dollar. China is like the America in the roaring 20’s. Don’t let the American media fool you on that score and don’t take that analogy any further than the imagery it invokes.* There are 1.4 billion people there, who have the same bug we have. I kinda want to see how that is going to play out and maybe cash in a bit considering that as a historian, the development of the human animal is a spectator sport for me (the only one I enjoy, I might ad). America is getting kinda dull, abortion blah blah, racism blah blah, gun control and whining..the Germans didn't eat our lunch, the Japanese only had a ten-year snack but the Chinese are going to eat. our. lunch. With chopsticks.
I’m basically hitting the reset button on my life. I’m going to leave friends and family behind physically - while remaining connected virtually. I’m going to leave here with literally the clothes on my back and in two suitcases and an iPad mini provided by Huang Rui through Mercedes Benz. Why? Because frankly the opportunity presented itself. That is literally why. I love my job at Barlow and my friends. Last time I hit the reset button I was miserable and hitting that button sent me on an adventure a decade ago. I’m a totally different person. In an eastern and deeply philosophical mythos the person who left an unsatisfying life in Boston no longer is alive. We all live moment to moment after all. The past is gone and the future is unmade and all that stuff. When I die...and at 40 you suddenly think about death…I want to able to just say, “Oh well, here it comes, that was a meaningful experience. I did my best.” before I fade into oblivion, secretly praying to Jesus that reincarnation is real. And so that brings me full circle to the “Old Master” Lao Zi and Zen. And that is a fitting Asian cliche on which to end this stream of consciousness.
*Historical comparisons are almost always flawed and are generally not predictive anyway.
Wo Jiao Gao Da Bai
I am called Tall Big White...in Chinese. My name was bestowed upon me by Liu
Lao Shi which means "teacher Liu" and is a nickname given by his friends.
My girlfriend's name is Huang Rui. Huang is her family name.
As you may know, Chinese are more commonly known by their family name and
it comes first when they introduce themselves and speak to people whom they are
not close to. My girlfriend's colleagues would call her Huang. Her
doctor would call her Huang. Her teacher would as well. Her friends
might call her by a nickname or Huang Rui. I call her Xiao Huang which
means little Huang. Of course, like many Chinese she has an English name -
Kris - but that's for another blog entry.
Chinese
family names are varied as in the west. Many family names are very common
but, unlike western names which might have an obscure meaning or mean something
in French or Polish but not in English, Chinese family names often mean
something in Chinese that is not obscure. Huang - 黄 - means "yellow"
and is a sacred color in ancient China associated only with the emperor - Huang
Di means yellow emperor.
Teacher
Liu's family name is an obscure one. The character's meaning is known to
scholars but most would identify it simply as a family name. Think of
Quinn. In Gaelic it means something but to you and me, it's just a last
name. Not too many people in the US bear the last name "red" but you have
probably met a Chinese "Mr Hong"
Huang
Rui's given name, what we in the west call a "first name" is the cool part.
Chinese parents choose names that represent rather common words. They
don't chose names to honor an ancestor - they might - or names they like as my
parents did. They don't pick names that mean something obscure or are
significant in another language. They choose a Chinese character or two
that actually means something quite common and accessible - a character or
phrase, that if you chose it in the US would make your friends snicker at your
hippie tendencies. Think River Phoenix or Sunshine, or naming your child
Evening Star. Okay you can get away with Dawn or Rose in English but
that's ONLY because those have become acceptable given names. Name your
son Morning or Flower and see how many times he gets his ass kicked. Name
your girl Smart and watch her friends tease her.
Huang Rui's given name is 睿 which means astute or farsighted. So really her
name means " Astute Yellow."
Her good friend's given name is 佳repeated twice by her friends - as is common
for girls - as Jia Jia or 佳佳. This character translates to
"excellent" imagine naming your kid "Excellent Jones" or "Astute
Rodriquez."
Jia Jia's friend is Ma Dan. Her married family name is 马 which means
"horse" in Chinese. Her given name is 丹 which means red or more
specifically cinnabar. It is an interesting trick of marriage - Chinese women
take their husbands' family name- that she is "red horse." In English.
Huang Rui's friend Peng (pronounced Pung) was named 鹏 by his parents
which means great or giant bird - the mythological Roc. He's from Inner Mongolia
which if memory serves is where that legend comes from. Essentially he is named
Big Bird.
Teacher Liu's given name consists of two characters - 晨晖 - which mean "glorious
dawn"and sounds like Chen Hui or "Chen Hway" for those of you who can read
Pinyin.
Sometimes, because of the huge volume of homonyms in Chinese, one can do funny things with
names. I was introduced to three girls by Teacher Liu. Smart sister,
Water sister and Star sister. Liu used their names to come up with English
words that shared the same sound. While a Chinese girl could be named
Star, 星-the sound Xing in the first tone pronounced "Shing" in a very high
register and with your tongue and lips in a different position on the "sh"sound
- could represent to rise or flourish- 兴 -or tranquil-惺 - but in fact Star
Sister's real first name is pronounced Xin and written 馨. The name
means fragrant. If you smelled your girlfriend's new perfume you might say
"zhe ge hen xin!" Fragrant Matthews...hmm, I think in the US that girl
would really need to be careful about personal grooming.
So my name, Gao Da Bai, is represented by three characters 高大白. What is
very clever about my Chinese name is the layers of meaning. 高 means tall
or above and is actually a common Chinese family name, thus my name is
authentic. 大 means large, big, fat, great. 白 means white. Thus you could
translate my name as Tall Big White. That certainly describes me to any Chinese
person - the tall fat white guy.
However,when you combine 高大 you get a new meaning - "lofty" or "wise" and 白
also means clear or pure or empty - in the Buddhist sense I think - as much as
it means white. "To understand" in Chinese is 明白 which literally means
"bright white" or "bright clear." I tell my Chinese friends "wo ming bai"
when I get what they are saying. Thus on many levels, my new brother and
fellow teacher, Glorious Dawn, has given me an auspicious, funny and clever name
in choosing to call me Gao Da Bai.
Getting By On A Smile And
Nod
I've long held that language is essential to culture. In fact, I teach that the
two are so inseparable that they are practically one in the same. Yet this
may lead one to the conclusion - and I include myself in that one - that without
language, meaningful contact cross-culturally between humans is not
possible.
I could not have been more wrong in this assumption. As I write this
I have managed to sit down in a restaurant and order food by pointing to a menu
and saying "zhe ge" which essentially means "this." Okay that is no great
feat.
What is more interesting is the fact that over the past two weeks I have
established close relationships with several people with whom I barely share a
common verbal language.
A few days ago, Kris, with whom I share some level of common language, had
to work all afternoon but left me in a tea house with one of her oldest friends,
a girl named Jia Jia . Jia Jia speaks English but like me with Chinese, is
afraid to speak it. Eventually, "Teacher Liu" showed up. Liu Lao Shi
- Chinese people love nicknames - has some very basic English proficiency but he
tries exceptionally hard to be understood. My new friend and I have had
some amazing and hilarious conversations. Our running joke has become that
we share a special ability to understand one another. This particular afternoon
he and Jia Jia decided to teach me to play Ma Jiang
While Liu Lao Shi is very confident in his English, Jia Jia is not.
My own lack of confidence in Chinese (Pu tong hua - I.e Mandarin)
previously made my communication with Jia Jia rather stiff and formal.
Playing Ma Jiang, however, opened all of us up. Within minutes, the
game became the language and there was no feeling of miscommunication. Jia
Jia's Chinese personality came out: no longer the shy, quiet woman she had been
with me prior to our game, she was now loud and boisterous - the personality I
had observed in her friendship with Kris. Old Chinese men and women
flocked to see Gao Da Bei (my Chinese name) play Ma Jiang. The feeling
was, I think, that a foreigner could not possibly master the rules. Soon I
had a tea shop employee clucking at me every time I touched the wrong piece to
discard. Soon, my opponents at my request started speaking in Chinese when
they discarded pieces. "San bing!" and I would snap the chip up and
announce "Peng!"
When Kris showed up, the three of us - and the Chinese onlookers-were
having a ball. I forgot, for a moment that we did not share a common
language. It was yet another iteration of that moment last summer when I
forgot everyone around me looked "Asian." whatever the hell looking Asian means.
In subsequent days I have been to perhaps ten dinners and several parties
where the conversation was exclusively in Pu Tong Hua with a smattering of
Sichuan Hua. I have taken to listening to these conversations instead of
of tuning them out, and a strange thing has happened. Last night, Kris's Mei Mei
(little sister - or cousin to you and me) picked us up for Kris's birthday
dinner and KTV party. Jiao Jiao and her boyfriend were in front of the
Benz SUV as we cruised through Chengdu on the way to dinner. Jiao Jiao and
Kris spoke non stop as we drove. Her boyfriend is an airline pilot, who
speaks English but is similarly shy about it unless he is talking about
technical things. As I listened, I picked out the ebb and flow of the
conversation. Kris was recounting our misadventures at Liu Lao Shi's
friend's birthday last night. A young girl, "Smart Sister," had "he da"
(drank big literally - meaning got plastered) and made quite the fool of
herself. Liu Lao Shi was embarrassed and worried that I would take offense
to the drunken antics of a young Chinese "party girl."
Soon their conversation turned to Jia Jia and the party tonight.
Using context again, I was able to follow the topic if not understand more
than a single word here or there. Kris is always surprised when I
correctly guess the topic. I still feel like wo de pu tong hua bu hao, "my
mandarin is very bad" but at the same time, I'm proud when I hear a sappy love
song on the radio and I know the girl is singing about her qin ai de that she
mei you. I wouldn't say I'm learning Chinese through this process but I
can see how I will get there.
Of course, part of me is starved for deep, profound conversation but I've
even found that is possible if you take it slow and work through the
frustration. I've had some great late-night talks with Kris about
politics. After watching the TED talk I've linked below, we had a very
thoughtful political discussion. At dinner a few days ago, Liu Lao Shi
introduced me to Panda and his wife - two young and very upwardly mobile Chinese
twenty-something's. Panda's English comes from England where he spent his
college years "eating horrible food and dealing with cold English people and
awful English weather." Panda and I had a very in depth conversation about
China, America, video games, and politics.
By now, I've accepted living however briefly in a world in which I am the
illiterate and ignorant person - the barbarian- trying to get by with a
smile and a nod and a gesture. I used to wonder how people I've known in America
who lacked language skills could stand it but it is surprisingly not that bad.
Human beings are human beings. That friendly smile and nod, that
single word or phrase, raised glass of beer or hug can break down a lot of
barriers. I never really understood how the cultural anthropologist could
walk into a village without knowing the local language and somehow manage not to
be killed. Now I understand. My new Chinese friends have been so
welcoming, open, generous and friendly when all I bring to the table seems to be
my novelty and my desire to learn about Chinese culture. Apparently, at
least among Sichuan Ren that is all you need
http://www.ted.com/talks/eric_x_li_a_tale_of_two_political_systems.html
This TED talk is one that may make your head spin, but I've found one of
the most important intellectual exercises one can perform involves questioning
and critically examining one's core assumptions. Assumptions usually
approach a level of faith that turns them into doctrine. Core values, when
unexamined can lock you into patterns of thoughts that become dangerously
close-minded. Give this guy's thoughts a few moments to sink in. As
Li points out, "Meta-narratives" can obscure reality.
two are so inseparable that they are practically one in the same. Yet this
may lead one to the conclusion - and I include myself in that one - that without
language, meaningful contact cross-culturally between humans is not
possible.
I could not have been more wrong in this assumption. As I write this
I have managed to sit down in a restaurant and order food by pointing to a menu
and saying "zhe ge" which essentially means "this." Okay that is no great
feat.
What is more interesting is the fact that over the past two weeks I have
established close relationships with several people with whom I barely share a
common verbal language.
A few days ago, Kris, with whom I share some level of common language, had
to work all afternoon but left me in a tea house with one of her oldest friends,
a girl named Jia Jia . Jia Jia speaks English but like me with Chinese, is
afraid to speak it. Eventually, "Teacher Liu" showed up. Liu Lao Shi
- Chinese people love nicknames - has some very basic English proficiency but he
tries exceptionally hard to be understood. My new friend and I have had
some amazing and hilarious conversations. Our running joke has become that
we share a special ability to understand one another. This particular afternoon
he and Jia Jia decided to teach me to play Ma Jiang
While Liu Lao Shi is very confident in his English, Jia Jia is not.
My own lack of confidence in Chinese (Pu tong hua - I.e Mandarin)
previously made my communication with Jia Jia rather stiff and formal.
Playing Ma Jiang, however, opened all of us up. Within minutes, the
game became the language and there was no feeling of miscommunication. Jia
Jia's Chinese personality came out: no longer the shy, quiet woman she had been
with me prior to our game, she was now loud and boisterous - the personality I
had observed in her friendship with Kris. Old Chinese men and women
flocked to see Gao Da Bei (my Chinese name) play Ma Jiang. The feeling
was, I think, that a foreigner could not possibly master the rules. Soon I
had a tea shop employee clucking at me every time I touched the wrong piece to
discard. Soon, my opponents at my request started speaking in Chinese when
they discarded pieces. "San bing!" and I would snap the chip up and
announce "Peng!"
When Kris showed up, the three of us - and the Chinese onlookers-were
having a ball. I forgot, for a moment that we did not share a common
language. It was yet another iteration of that moment last summer when I
forgot everyone around me looked "Asian." whatever the hell looking Asian means.
In subsequent days I have been to perhaps ten dinners and several parties
where the conversation was exclusively in Pu Tong Hua with a smattering of
Sichuan Hua. I have taken to listening to these conversations instead of
of tuning them out, and a strange thing has happened. Last night, Kris's Mei Mei
(little sister - or cousin to you and me) picked us up for Kris's birthday
dinner and KTV party. Jiao Jiao and her boyfriend were in front of the
Benz SUV as we cruised through Chengdu on the way to dinner. Jiao Jiao and
Kris spoke non stop as we drove. Her boyfriend is an airline pilot, who
speaks English but is similarly shy about it unless he is talking about
technical things. As I listened, I picked out the ebb and flow of the
conversation. Kris was recounting our misadventures at Liu Lao Shi's
friend's birthday last night. A young girl, "Smart Sister," had "he da"
(drank big literally - meaning got plastered) and made quite the fool of
herself. Liu Lao Shi was embarrassed and worried that I would take offense
to the drunken antics of a young Chinese "party girl."
Soon their conversation turned to Jia Jia and the party tonight.
Using context again, I was able to follow the topic if not understand more
than a single word here or there. Kris is always surprised when I
correctly guess the topic. I still feel like wo de pu tong hua bu hao, "my
mandarin is very bad" but at the same time, I'm proud when I hear a sappy love
song on the radio and I know the girl is singing about her qin ai de that she
mei you. I wouldn't say I'm learning Chinese through this process but I
can see how I will get there.
Of course, part of me is starved for deep, profound conversation but I've
even found that is possible if you take it slow and work through the
frustration. I've had some great late-night talks with Kris about
politics. After watching the TED talk I've linked below, we had a very
thoughtful political discussion. At dinner a few days ago, Liu Lao Shi
introduced me to Panda and his wife - two young and very upwardly mobile Chinese
twenty-something's. Panda's English comes from England where he spent his
college years "eating horrible food and dealing with cold English people and
awful English weather." Panda and I had a very in depth conversation about
China, America, video games, and politics.
By now, I've accepted living however briefly in a world in which I am the
illiterate and ignorant person - the barbarian- trying to get by with a
smile and a nod and a gesture. I used to wonder how people I've known in America
who lacked language skills could stand it but it is surprisingly not that bad.
Human beings are human beings. That friendly smile and nod, that
single word or phrase, raised glass of beer or hug can break down a lot of
barriers. I never really understood how the cultural anthropologist could
walk into a village without knowing the local language and somehow manage not to
be killed. Now I understand. My new Chinese friends have been so
welcoming, open, generous and friendly when all I bring to the table seems to be
my novelty and my desire to learn about Chinese culture. Apparently, at
least among Sichuan Ren that is all you need
http://www.ted.com/talks/eric_x_li_a_tale_of_two_political_systems.html
This TED talk is one that may make your head spin, but I've found one of
the most important intellectual exercises one can perform involves questioning
and critically examining one's core assumptions. Assumptions usually
approach a level of faith that turns them into doctrine. Core values, when
unexamined can lock you into patterns of thoughts that become dangerously
close-minded. Give this guy's thoughts a few moments to sink in. As
Li points out, "Meta-narratives" can obscure reality.
Master Lao is alive and well in China, and doing nothing.
Arriving at the Shanghai Rail Station, I began to panic. Where would I go
to pick up my ticket? Would my train be on time or cancelled due to the flooding
in Sichuan? My fears were confirmed when, after passing through a security
check, I could find no ticket booths. The only thing I could find was a bank of
self-service booths. Finally finding a police officer, I was given sign
language directions - which led me to an empty, dark lounge. No tickets
here. Returning to the police officer, her directions were further
clarified - that, plus a map demonstrated that the ticket office was across the
street from the station. Of course!
Dragging my heavy suitcase, I
encounter my next challenge - a mass of Chinese people waiting in lines with no
discernible place to pick up tickets. Will I stand in line forever only to reach
the front, and not be able to explain myself? Will there be no ticket?
I comfort myself in the fact that I am three hours early - plenty of time.
Information desk. Ah! The kindly man behind the counter has no
English. He calls out to a kind-looking woman walking by. "ni shuo
ying wen ma" he asks. "Yes!" How did he know the young woman with
braces spoke English? Chinese people have an uncanny instinct about such things.
I cannot fathom how despite all the apparent chaos around me, things seem
to work out. Is it simply that I'm a foreigner and thus when the shit hits
the fan, the Chinese come through in order to rescue me?
The kindly
woman with braces strikes up a conversation, solves my problem in an instant and
as quickly fades away into the crowd. I find myself in the "English" line
that, had I been slightly more patient I would have found on my own and the
cashier gives me my ticket without a word or a problem after I hand over my
passport. Look and you will not find.
My three hour wait gives me
ample opportunity to people-watch. Rui warned me to watch my belongings as
train travelers are a lower class of people she is not willing to vouch for.
In reality, the families here seem friendly and kind. I marvel at
elderly Chinese people, who have seen so much turmoil and yet seem universally
outspoken and good-natured. I watch as an elderly woman enters the waiting
area, and is spotted by her friends or family members. If you ignored
their ages, they acted like little girls in their delight to see one another.
They displayed more energy and vigor than one would ever see in the
US.
Finally heading down an escalator towards my waiting train, my heart
sank yet again as I saw my sleeper - a tiny room with four beds. I
imagined the three Chinese people I would share this 20 hour journey with - all
the potential chaos and miscommunication plus Rui's reminder not to trust them.
Then I saw the face of a foreigner in my car. Larry and Rose.
Who would have expected I would meet an American expat from Illinois and
his Chinese wife of 18 years on a train from Shanghai to Chengdu. Larry
and Rose are both English professors at an international school on their first
trip to Chengdu.
I could not have asked for better bunk-mates. I
had bought some junk food for the train, assuming I could get some edible
Chinese food on the journey - silly me - but Rose was quick to hand me a hard
boiled duck egg which she told me I could save until latter. I'm not huge
for hard boiled eggs, but boy was this thing a treat! I honestly don't
know what I would have done without this friendly older couple. Peanut butter
sandwiches and fruit against Pringles and candy.
My Nikon being its
ornery self, I used my iPhone to capture fleeting images of the idyllic scenery
as the sun rose over the mountains east of Sichuan the next morning - confident
that I could use the power outlet in our sleeper. Of course, when the time
came to charge it up, the outlet didn't work, and in fact further sucked the
life out of my phone. I asked Rose if I could use her phone to call Rui
and let her know of our arrival time. After a few text messages back and
forth between Rose and Rui I could tell a friendship had been established.
An offer to drive our new friends to their hotel was made and
accepted.
Last Sunday marked my second exploration of the Chengdu region
with Larry and Rose with Rui as our tour guide. Rui has shown the three of
us the best this region of China has to offer. We took an afternoon trip to the
city of Dujiangyan - one of the outlying cities that suffered massive casualties
in the 2008 earthquake due to shoddy construction - Chengdu was spared as its
buildings were properly constructed. Dujiangyan is most famous for its
ancient irrigation and water management system created by a Qin engineer in the
3rd century BCE that is still in use today. With the recent rains and
severe flooding in western Sichuan, it is a testament to the genius of its
creator. With no dam, this system diverts the raging river into side
channels that then can be used to irrigate the Sichuan flood-plain - a Daoist
solution to the problem of water managements. Don't fight the river, go
with the flow.
What I enjoyed most about our afternoon in Dujiangyan was
what we did after our tour of the Fulong temple, park and flood control - we sat
along the Min river at an outdoor tea house and chatted well into early evening
before moving across the street to enjoy yet another amazing meal (when Rose
asked a Chinese businessman on the train why he was going to Chengdu his simple
reply was - "just to eat" - amazingly we bumped into the guy in Dujiangyan).
I've heard about Europeans having three hour lunches and of Chinese
sipping tea for hours trying to solve the world's problems but I've never done
it. I cannot imagine a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon. We
talked well past dark, the Min river rushing by while musicians attempted to
convince us to pay them to play.
One of these musicians -who didn't ask
us to play- sticks out in my mind. All of seventeen, and as beautiful as
any Sichuanese girl - they are not kidding when they say the most beautiful
Chinese women come from Sichuan - she had a speaker on her back, an electric
guitar strung over her shoulder and a microphone in front of her mouth. She
played and sang a beautiful Chinese song in an angelic voice for the table next
to ours. When she was done, she walked away - on two mismatched prosthetic
legs. This girl was clearly one of the thousands of victims of the quake -
there were others but her beauty and talent made her stand out. My
American sensibilities still shudder at the idea that this girl's crushed and
then amputated limbs would cast her as a street performer. Shouldn't she
buck up and do what she was going to do before fate stole her legs? Shouldn't
she be a double-amputee doctor or businesswoman or whatever it is she dreamed
about being as a little girl 5 years ago? Why submit herself to the pity
of thousands? You see this everywhere in China. The burned woman
outside the temple in Shanghai, the boy with the festering, gangrenous leg
outside KFC, the old man with shriveled limbs pushing himself on a hand trolly -
the severely pathetic in China do not hide inside, they come out onto the street
and ask for charity. They share their stories and they remind you that
indeed, life is fleeting, brutal and tragic. A beautiful girl with no
legs, singing with the voice of an angel reminds the Chinese of this. It's
an important reminder, and perhaps a better, more bitter pill than the story of
the double amputee who competes in the Paralympics. We love those stories
but we neglect to imagine the hundred amputees who probably sit in a dark
apartment lamenting their inability to live up to that high standard, who fight
lonely battles with depression and mourn the life that should have been.
Maybe this is all part of the reason why, as I sipped my coffee in Starbucks
this morning and watched a man on a scooter laden with goods get clipped by a
van, the story unfolded so differently than It would at a busy intersection in
New York. Unhurt, the man picked himself up, inspected the serious damage
to his scooter, talked to the man who hit him and then with his help dragged his
scooter, and bags to the side of the road while other men joined the pair and
chatted amiably while an old woman with a wicker broom and the bright orange
jacket of a street sweeper nonchalantly cleaned up the shattered parts of the
scooter in the middle of the road. No shouting, no fight. No
recriminations, no tears. Bad stuff happens; being human is hard.
Rose said that China's long history can be a burden and I agree - this is a
nation that struggles with a lot of baggage- but at the same time this history
is a blessing. The beautiful amputee and the man whose day was ruined by
the van driver both know that you can't fight the universe. Sharpen your
knife and it dulls, fill your cup and it spills over. Master Lao's ancient
advice being lived out everywhere. Wu Wei.
to pick up my ticket? Would my train be on time or cancelled due to the flooding
in Sichuan? My fears were confirmed when, after passing through a security
check, I could find no ticket booths. The only thing I could find was a bank of
self-service booths. Finally finding a police officer, I was given sign
language directions - which led me to an empty, dark lounge. No tickets
here. Returning to the police officer, her directions were further
clarified - that, plus a map demonstrated that the ticket office was across the
street from the station. Of course!
Dragging my heavy suitcase, I
encounter my next challenge - a mass of Chinese people waiting in lines with no
discernible place to pick up tickets. Will I stand in line forever only to reach
the front, and not be able to explain myself? Will there be no ticket?
I comfort myself in the fact that I am three hours early - plenty of time.
Information desk. Ah! The kindly man behind the counter has no
English. He calls out to a kind-looking woman walking by. "ni shuo
ying wen ma" he asks. "Yes!" How did he know the young woman with
braces spoke English? Chinese people have an uncanny instinct about such things.
I cannot fathom how despite all the apparent chaos around me, things seem
to work out. Is it simply that I'm a foreigner and thus when the shit hits
the fan, the Chinese come through in order to rescue me?
The kindly
woman with braces strikes up a conversation, solves my problem in an instant and
as quickly fades away into the crowd. I find myself in the "English" line
that, had I been slightly more patient I would have found on my own and the
cashier gives me my ticket without a word or a problem after I hand over my
passport. Look and you will not find.
My three hour wait gives me
ample opportunity to people-watch. Rui warned me to watch my belongings as
train travelers are a lower class of people she is not willing to vouch for.
In reality, the families here seem friendly and kind. I marvel at
elderly Chinese people, who have seen so much turmoil and yet seem universally
outspoken and good-natured. I watch as an elderly woman enters the waiting
area, and is spotted by her friends or family members. If you ignored
their ages, they acted like little girls in their delight to see one another.
They displayed more energy and vigor than one would ever see in the
US.
Finally heading down an escalator towards my waiting train, my heart
sank yet again as I saw my sleeper - a tiny room with four beds. I
imagined the three Chinese people I would share this 20 hour journey with - all
the potential chaos and miscommunication plus Rui's reminder not to trust them.
Then I saw the face of a foreigner in my car. Larry and Rose.
Who would have expected I would meet an American expat from Illinois and
his Chinese wife of 18 years on a train from Shanghai to Chengdu. Larry
and Rose are both English professors at an international school on their first
trip to Chengdu.
I could not have asked for better bunk-mates. I
had bought some junk food for the train, assuming I could get some edible
Chinese food on the journey - silly me - but Rose was quick to hand me a hard
boiled duck egg which she told me I could save until latter. I'm not huge
for hard boiled eggs, but boy was this thing a treat! I honestly don't
know what I would have done without this friendly older couple. Peanut butter
sandwiches and fruit against Pringles and candy.
My Nikon being its
ornery self, I used my iPhone to capture fleeting images of the idyllic scenery
as the sun rose over the mountains east of Sichuan the next morning - confident
that I could use the power outlet in our sleeper. Of course, when the time
came to charge it up, the outlet didn't work, and in fact further sucked the
life out of my phone. I asked Rose if I could use her phone to call Rui
and let her know of our arrival time. After a few text messages back and
forth between Rose and Rui I could tell a friendship had been established.
An offer to drive our new friends to their hotel was made and
accepted.
Last Sunday marked my second exploration of the Chengdu region
with Larry and Rose with Rui as our tour guide. Rui has shown the three of
us the best this region of China has to offer. We took an afternoon trip to the
city of Dujiangyan - one of the outlying cities that suffered massive casualties
in the 2008 earthquake due to shoddy construction - Chengdu was spared as its
buildings were properly constructed. Dujiangyan is most famous for its
ancient irrigation and water management system created by a Qin engineer in the
3rd century BCE that is still in use today. With the recent rains and
severe flooding in western Sichuan, it is a testament to the genius of its
creator. With no dam, this system diverts the raging river into side
channels that then can be used to irrigate the Sichuan flood-plain - a Daoist
solution to the problem of water managements. Don't fight the river, go
with the flow.
What I enjoyed most about our afternoon in Dujiangyan was
what we did after our tour of the Fulong temple, park and flood control - we sat
along the Min river at an outdoor tea house and chatted well into early evening
before moving across the street to enjoy yet another amazing meal (when Rose
asked a Chinese businessman on the train why he was going to Chengdu his simple
reply was - "just to eat" - amazingly we bumped into the guy in Dujiangyan).
I've heard about Europeans having three hour lunches and of Chinese
sipping tea for hours trying to solve the world's problems but I've never done
it. I cannot imagine a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon. We
talked well past dark, the Min river rushing by while musicians attempted to
convince us to pay them to play.
One of these musicians -who didn't ask
us to play- sticks out in my mind. All of seventeen, and as beautiful as
any Sichuanese girl - they are not kidding when they say the most beautiful
Chinese women come from Sichuan - she had a speaker on her back, an electric
guitar strung over her shoulder and a microphone in front of her mouth. She
played and sang a beautiful Chinese song in an angelic voice for the table next
to ours. When she was done, she walked away - on two mismatched prosthetic
legs. This girl was clearly one of the thousands of victims of the quake -
there were others but her beauty and talent made her stand out. My
American sensibilities still shudder at the idea that this girl's crushed and
then amputated limbs would cast her as a street performer. Shouldn't she
buck up and do what she was going to do before fate stole her legs? Shouldn't
she be a double-amputee doctor or businesswoman or whatever it is she dreamed
about being as a little girl 5 years ago? Why submit herself to the pity
of thousands? You see this everywhere in China. The burned woman
outside the temple in Shanghai, the boy with the festering, gangrenous leg
outside KFC, the old man with shriveled limbs pushing himself on a hand trolly -
the severely pathetic in China do not hide inside, they come out onto the street
and ask for charity. They share their stories and they remind you that
indeed, life is fleeting, brutal and tragic. A beautiful girl with no
legs, singing with the voice of an angel reminds the Chinese of this. It's
an important reminder, and perhaps a better, more bitter pill than the story of
the double amputee who competes in the Paralympics. We love those stories
but we neglect to imagine the hundred amputees who probably sit in a dark
apartment lamenting their inability to live up to that high standard, who fight
lonely battles with depression and mourn the life that should have been.
Maybe this is all part of the reason why, as I sipped my coffee in Starbucks
this morning and watched a man on a scooter laden with goods get clipped by a
van, the story unfolded so differently than It would at a busy intersection in
New York. Unhurt, the man picked himself up, inspected the serious damage
to his scooter, talked to the man who hit him and then with his help dragged his
scooter, and bags to the side of the road while other men joined the pair and
chatted amiably while an old woman with a wicker broom and the bright orange
jacket of a street sweeper nonchalantly cleaned up the shattered parts of the
scooter in the middle of the road. No shouting, no fight. No
recriminations, no tears. Bad stuff happens; being human is hard.
Rose said that China's long history can be a burden and I agree - this is a
nation that struggles with a lot of baggage- but at the same time this history
is a blessing. The beautiful amputee and the man whose day was ruined by
the van driver both know that you can't fight the universe. Sharpen your
knife and it dulls, fill your cup and it spills over. Master Lao's ancient
advice being lived out everywhere. Wu Wei.
Arrived in Chengdu yesterday - an amazing city. I've made some new friends and eaten some great food. The rain is not too bad. I will work on getting some pictures up here in the next few days, as well as some new blog entries. Thanks for reading!
Chang, take the Huangpu road.
I'm pretty sure that is the line from Empire of the Sun. It is uttered by Jaime's father as he tries to get his family out of a Shanghai about to be invaded by the Japanese in 1941. The Huangpu Road runs along the northern side of the former British Concession of Shanghai. It is just north of the world famous Bund, or wei tan, in downtown Shanghai in the puxi (east of the Pu river) section.
It is here that I am staying, in the famous Astor House hotel. I llike to think that it was the very hotel that Jamie's dad put his family up in while trying to get out of the city, but it was probably the Peace Hotel right on the Bund. The Astor House is a name of distinction in Shanghai and although this hotel has apparently inhabited a few buildings in this section of The city, it can still claim itself the oldest western hotel in Shanghai. It is certainly not a continuously operating hotel, and it's current incarnation only goes back to the early 2000's when it was purchased by a major hotel company.
Today, the Astor hotel, or Pu Jiang Hotel, seems like one of those hotels that people live in, people like the Major in Fawlty Towers. It is so old that one can quickly forgive its slow elevators and low water pressure. One can also forgive the stubbed toes and creaky floorboards, and even the fact that my bed is two feet from the door which opens out into a vast common room full of antiquities from the grand hotel's past and is thus frequented by all manner of people from drunk French tourists to sceeching Chinese childen. The room next to me housed Albert Einstien and Charlie Chaplin stayed right down the hall.
My very first experience at the Astor was not positive but since then, I have developed an appreciation for the quirky place - enough that I would surly stay here again.
The lobby houses a small bar that people still frequent despite the 74 rmb price tag for a Heineken and the 44 rmb price of a Chingdao beer. (that's about 12 and 7 dollars respectively.) Last night, deigning to go out of the hotel in my weakened state, I ordered a pepperoni pizza in Richard's Bar (a second bar in a room on the first floor) for 60rmb and I swear it was cooked in a toaster. In the strange economic world of China, the fact that I can walk one block and buy the same beer for 1 dollar and 60 rmb would feed a party of six adults at a local Chinese establishment doesn't seem to phase even the large number of Chinese hotel patrons. In New York, the hotel bar will violate you if you order lunch, but so will every other place in a ten block radius - it's Manhattan for Christ sake! But I digress.
There are twisty, convoluted hallways everywhere in The Astor, along with very repetitive and sometimes contradictory signs explaining the hotel's 160 year history. There is a grand ballroom which hosted a wedding my first night here, and that in 1990 hosted China's first stock exchange. There is a massage parlor tucked far into a back corner where no one goes, a second one closer to the lobby and a small and pricey clothing boutique next to a souvenir store. I think there is even a third restaurant on the second floor. Some of the halls seem downright haunted - cold spots and all. If I believed in that sort of thing, a 160 year old hotel that once served as the Japanese Army's HQ would certainly have its share of restless spirits.
There is an impeccably clean men's room on the first floor and every time I have used it, the service door is wide open with a crew of loud Chinese maids chattering away while I pee. I wonder if the ladies room abuts the bellhop's break room. The bellhops themselves are an interesting bunch in their white livery. They open the door about half the time, the other half of the time they are looking the wrong way.
The maids are a polite bunch; in the morning they restock the towels and clean the room, opening the heavy drapes to let in the light. They seem to do this the instant I leave the room. In the evening, they find the opportunity to make the bed again, and close the drapes for the coming dawn.
At night, the corner in front of the Astor is a lively place. Last night, when I stumbled out in a fog of sleep at 11pm, I found at least seven merchants were selling street food in front, as well as an attractive hooker selling her wares - a woman whom I first took to be a wealthy hotel patron until she offered me a massage. I made it to the Family Mart around the corner to buy some late night snacks (Shanghai street food consists of squiddy things that I can't imagine bitting into yet are ubiquitous in all of China and hotdogs on a stick, which seems a Shanghai thing). Returning from Family mart with some Pear juice and pockey I decided on a quarter of watermelon for the equivalent of 80 cents - again contemplating how one should eat barbecued squiddy things and what they taste like. The classy hooker had been joined by a similarly attractive friend and they were now speaking to a smiling Frenchman who had his iPhone out, probably trying to figure out how to ask for particular services in Mandarin. Does his French-Chinese dictionary translate ménage-a-troi?
The souvenir store in the lobby of the Astor is similarly quirky. It houses very expensive-looking jade carvings and fine porcelain tea sets, along with other Chinese souvenirs with the expected huge price tags. Want a huge jade carving? 56000 rmb. Yet, there are big clearance signs. This store is apparently going out of business. The 8600 rmb Buddhist jade bracelet? 100 rmb. That tea set? 50. The jade carving? 1500. Even if the bracelet is fake and the store is doing its version of a Persian rug store's permanent going out of business sale, those prices can't be beat. 25 bucks for a bracelet and tea set? I can buy two Heinekens with that kind of cash!
I'm pretty sure that is the line from Empire of the Sun. It is uttered by Jaime's father as he tries to get his family out of a Shanghai about to be invaded by the Japanese in 1941. The Huangpu Road runs along the northern side of the former British Concession of Shanghai. It is just north of the world famous Bund, or wei tan, in downtown Shanghai in the puxi (east of the Pu river) section.
It is here that I am staying, in the famous Astor House hotel. I llike to think that it was the very hotel that Jamie's dad put his family up in while trying to get out of the city, but it was probably the Peace Hotel right on the Bund. The Astor House is a name of distinction in Shanghai and although this hotel has apparently inhabited a few buildings in this section of The city, it can still claim itself the oldest western hotel in Shanghai. It is certainly not a continuously operating hotel, and it's current incarnation only goes back to the early 2000's when it was purchased by a major hotel company.
Today, the Astor hotel, or Pu Jiang Hotel, seems like one of those hotels that people live in, people like the Major in Fawlty Towers. It is so old that one can quickly forgive its slow elevators and low water pressure. One can also forgive the stubbed toes and creaky floorboards, and even the fact that my bed is two feet from the door which opens out into a vast common room full of antiquities from the grand hotel's past and is thus frequented by all manner of people from drunk French tourists to sceeching Chinese childen. The room next to me housed Albert Einstien and Charlie Chaplin stayed right down the hall.
My very first experience at the Astor was not positive but since then, I have developed an appreciation for the quirky place - enough that I would surly stay here again.
The lobby houses a small bar that people still frequent despite the 74 rmb price tag for a Heineken and the 44 rmb price of a Chingdao beer. (that's about 12 and 7 dollars respectively.) Last night, deigning to go out of the hotel in my weakened state, I ordered a pepperoni pizza in Richard's Bar (a second bar in a room on the first floor) for 60rmb and I swear it was cooked in a toaster. In the strange economic world of China, the fact that I can walk one block and buy the same beer for 1 dollar and 60 rmb would feed a party of six adults at a local Chinese establishment doesn't seem to phase even the large number of Chinese hotel patrons. In New York, the hotel bar will violate you if you order lunch, but so will every other place in a ten block radius - it's Manhattan for Christ sake! But I digress.
There are twisty, convoluted hallways everywhere in The Astor, along with very repetitive and sometimes contradictory signs explaining the hotel's 160 year history. There is a grand ballroom which hosted a wedding my first night here, and that in 1990 hosted China's first stock exchange. There is a massage parlor tucked far into a back corner where no one goes, a second one closer to the lobby and a small and pricey clothing boutique next to a souvenir store. I think there is even a third restaurant on the second floor. Some of the halls seem downright haunted - cold spots and all. If I believed in that sort of thing, a 160 year old hotel that once served as the Japanese Army's HQ would certainly have its share of restless spirits.
There is an impeccably clean men's room on the first floor and every time I have used it, the service door is wide open with a crew of loud Chinese maids chattering away while I pee. I wonder if the ladies room abuts the bellhop's break room. The bellhops themselves are an interesting bunch in their white livery. They open the door about half the time, the other half of the time they are looking the wrong way.
The maids are a polite bunch; in the morning they restock the towels and clean the room, opening the heavy drapes to let in the light. They seem to do this the instant I leave the room. In the evening, they find the opportunity to make the bed again, and close the drapes for the coming dawn.
At night, the corner in front of the Astor is a lively place. Last night, when I stumbled out in a fog of sleep at 11pm, I found at least seven merchants were selling street food in front, as well as an attractive hooker selling her wares - a woman whom I first took to be a wealthy hotel patron until she offered me a massage. I made it to the Family Mart around the corner to buy some late night snacks (Shanghai street food consists of squiddy things that I can't imagine bitting into yet are ubiquitous in all of China and hotdogs on a stick, which seems a Shanghai thing). Returning from Family mart with some Pear juice and pockey I decided on a quarter of watermelon for the equivalent of 80 cents - again contemplating how one should eat barbecued squiddy things and what they taste like. The classy hooker had been joined by a similarly attractive friend and they were now speaking to a smiling Frenchman who had his iPhone out, probably trying to figure out how to ask for particular services in Mandarin. Does his French-Chinese dictionary translate ménage-a-troi?
The souvenir store in the lobby of the Astor is similarly quirky. It houses very expensive-looking jade carvings and fine porcelain tea sets, along with other Chinese souvenirs with the expected huge price tags. Want a huge jade carving? 56000 rmb. Yet, there are big clearance signs. This store is apparently going out of business. The 8600 rmb Buddhist jade bracelet? 100 rmb. That tea set? 50. The jade carving? 1500. Even if the bracelet is fake and the store is doing its version of a Persian rug store's permanent going out of business sale, those prices can't be beat. 25 bucks for a bracelet and tea set? I can buy two Heinekens with that kind of cash!
Your English is so good!
My first two day in shanghai involved a lot of waiting, two scams and a lot of good food - about par for the course for China.
At the airport in Seoul I met a music professor/missionary who needed to use my phone to call his ride when he arrived in shanghai. Since he seemed nice enough, of course I let him. No problems there. We got to talking and decided to take the maglev together. We chatted a bit on the train, given that the maglev moves at 200+ mph the ride was quickly over. My new friend was met by his American sponsor (he is teaching English here). The jolly southerner walked me down towards the cabs telling me how long of a ride it was to the Bund and how happy I would make the cabbie. Apparently, a cabbie had already found us and offered to take me. I was prepared for a 30 dollar cab ride, so when the smiling and English-speaking driver said of would cost 280 rmb I didn't blink.
In my groggy head, that made sense. Somehow it also made sense to pay him up front. Next thing I know, he leaves the cab and a young, attractive woman hops in. Huh? "This is my wife - she will take you." okay...
The ride from the maglev terminal to my hotel was quick, and as I later learned probably should have cost a third of what I spent. One scam down. I won't count the attempted up sell the hotel desk clerk tried on me. I also won't mention the ten dollar beer I had waiting for my room.
Rui, my companion on this foray into China, was delayed so I had about five hours to kill after checking in. I figured it was time for a walk down the Bund and an attempt to find some food. Their is a rather famous bridge outside my hotel where brides and grooms from all over Shanghai come to get their pictures taken in front of the famous Pudong skyline. Halfway across the bridge I was stopped by two Chinese women, one of whom spoke near perfect English and asked if I could take a photo.
In China as elsewhere, this happens. The difference in China being that people will actually offer to take a couple's picture for them. It was the perfect set up.
"Your English is very good! No accent." this is an odd comment to a native speaker but it started a conversation about where I was from and what I did. Hook in. Turns out these two are from far away and it was their first time in Shanghai. What better way to set me at ease by making me into the veteran Shanghai traveller and they, the utter noobs. "What are you doing now?" she asked.
"I thought I would walk to the Bund and get some lunch."
"Oh, so many tourists! We are going to a Chinese festival around the corner - they have many styles of Chinese food. You should come with us, it is behind this big brown building." she gestured towards a dilapidated and monstrous structure half a block away. Behind it I imagined the food festival I had visited in Guangzhou - how lucky I was to have met these folks!
I agreed to follow them and the woman whose English was not as good pulled out her street map and began to lead the way while I made small talk with the other one. It was at this point that I realized something was a little wrong. The woman with the map wasn't using it. I think my observation was very Sherlock-like although Holmes would have mapped the whole scam out while taking the picture of the pair back on the bridge based upon the age and model of the camera.
We walked with purpose, and clearing the awful Stalinist structure there was no festival to be seen. Now it dawned on me. Two previous trips to China and here was the tea house scam in its glory. We approached a dark doorway with red lanterns and a middle aged woman in a traditional vest beckoning us inside. "What is this?" I asked.
"Traditional Chinese tea festival" the better speaker replied.
"Oh, thanks I'm good. Nice try though. You had me going there." and I was off. At least I was pleasantly surprised by their lack of pushiness. They just let me walk away without a word. By now, I was sweaty and my fatigue was starting to catch up with me so I headed for the Bund, settling for a blueberry smoothie for lunch.
I returned to the hotel and got a message from Rui - pronounced sort of like "Ray" but with rolling "r" "j" sound instead of an English "r". She was in Shanghai and would take a bus to the hotel. Given my own speedy experience in the late morning, I assumed she would arrive in about an hour. Three hours later, I finally met my new Chinese "nu peng you" and it was certainly worth the wait. You can learn a lot about someone by looking at their pictures and I had formed an image of a Chinese free spirit. So far she has lived up to that image.
I have eaten quite a lot of very good Chinese food with Rui. Our first night, both famished, we stumbled on a Hong Kong style place filled with people. Rui does not know Shanghai well, but she judged this place as good based upon the international Chinese food litmus test - it was full of Chinese people. I guess that's an easy test to pass in China. We enjoyed some classic Chinese dishes - boneless ribs - not nearly so sweet and beef with peppers.
The real treat was breakfast. Walking down Beijing road at 7am on a Sunday morning, we were pretty sure we were out of luck given all the shuttered stores but we finally found a cluster of small shops opened for business. We shared an order of steamed dumplings and some dumpling soup. The best part of the meal had to be the seating arrangements. With only three tables, it was expected that we would sit with whomever was there. This isn't like a long table where you sit across from your date but you are sitting next to a stranger. This is a four-person table where random people eat their soup together. The Chinese breakfast of soup and dumplings sounds weird but it works. Sitting with an elderly Chinese couple rounds out the experience.
The last meal worth mentioning was at a place called spice something or other which is a chain Sichuan place. Rui wanted to show off some of her hometown cuisine. "You order and surprise me." he says...and the looks at the menu. Typically, in these Chinese places there are a few really odd dishes but this menu was the opposite. Everything was weird. Rui ordered "pig foot" which I later realized was "pig leg." Next up was a spicy dish including hot peppers, congealed pig's blood, pig intestine and...tofu? We finished things off with some odd vegetable plate, and a tofu veggie thing that was like no tofu dish I've ever had. Next time, I'll skip the pig's blood.
At the airport in Seoul I met a music professor/missionary who needed to use my phone to call his ride when he arrived in shanghai. Since he seemed nice enough, of course I let him. No problems there. We got to talking and decided to take the maglev together. We chatted a bit on the train, given that the maglev moves at 200+ mph the ride was quickly over. My new friend was met by his American sponsor (he is teaching English here). The jolly southerner walked me down towards the cabs telling me how long of a ride it was to the Bund and how happy I would make the cabbie. Apparently, a cabbie had already found us and offered to take me. I was prepared for a 30 dollar cab ride, so when the smiling and English-speaking driver said of would cost 280 rmb I didn't blink.
In my groggy head, that made sense. Somehow it also made sense to pay him up front. Next thing I know, he leaves the cab and a young, attractive woman hops in. Huh? "This is my wife - she will take you." okay...
The ride from the maglev terminal to my hotel was quick, and as I later learned probably should have cost a third of what I spent. One scam down. I won't count the attempted up sell the hotel desk clerk tried on me. I also won't mention the ten dollar beer I had waiting for my room.
Rui, my companion on this foray into China, was delayed so I had about five hours to kill after checking in. I figured it was time for a walk down the Bund and an attempt to find some food. Their is a rather famous bridge outside my hotel where brides and grooms from all over Shanghai come to get their pictures taken in front of the famous Pudong skyline. Halfway across the bridge I was stopped by two Chinese women, one of whom spoke near perfect English and asked if I could take a photo.
In China as elsewhere, this happens. The difference in China being that people will actually offer to take a couple's picture for them. It was the perfect set up.
"Your English is very good! No accent." this is an odd comment to a native speaker but it started a conversation about where I was from and what I did. Hook in. Turns out these two are from far away and it was their first time in Shanghai. What better way to set me at ease by making me into the veteran Shanghai traveller and they, the utter noobs. "What are you doing now?" she asked.
"I thought I would walk to the Bund and get some lunch."
"Oh, so many tourists! We are going to a Chinese festival around the corner - they have many styles of Chinese food. You should come with us, it is behind this big brown building." she gestured towards a dilapidated and monstrous structure half a block away. Behind it I imagined the food festival I had visited in Guangzhou - how lucky I was to have met these folks!
I agreed to follow them and the woman whose English was not as good pulled out her street map and began to lead the way while I made small talk with the other one. It was at this point that I realized something was a little wrong. The woman with the map wasn't using it. I think my observation was very Sherlock-like although Holmes would have mapped the whole scam out while taking the picture of the pair back on the bridge based upon the age and model of the camera.
We walked with purpose, and clearing the awful Stalinist structure there was no festival to be seen. Now it dawned on me. Two previous trips to China and here was the tea house scam in its glory. We approached a dark doorway with red lanterns and a middle aged woman in a traditional vest beckoning us inside. "What is this?" I asked.
"Traditional Chinese tea festival" the better speaker replied.
"Oh, thanks I'm good. Nice try though. You had me going there." and I was off. At least I was pleasantly surprised by their lack of pushiness. They just let me walk away without a word. By now, I was sweaty and my fatigue was starting to catch up with me so I headed for the Bund, settling for a blueberry smoothie for lunch.
I returned to the hotel and got a message from Rui - pronounced sort of like "Ray" but with rolling "r" "j" sound instead of an English "r". She was in Shanghai and would take a bus to the hotel. Given my own speedy experience in the late morning, I assumed she would arrive in about an hour. Three hours later, I finally met my new Chinese "nu peng you" and it was certainly worth the wait. You can learn a lot about someone by looking at their pictures and I had formed an image of a Chinese free spirit. So far she has lived up to that image.
I have eaten quite a lot of very good Chinese food with Rui. Our first night, both famished, we stumbled on a Hong Kong style place filled with people. Rui does not know Shanghai well, but she judged this place as good based upon the international Chinese food litmus test - it was full of Chinese people. I guess that's an easy test to pass in China. We enjoyed some classic Chinese dishes - boneless ribs - not nearly so sweet and beef with peppers.
The real treat was breakfast. Walking down Beijing road at 7am on a Sunday morning, we were pretty sure we were out of luck given all the shuttered stores but we finally found a cluster of small shops opened for business. We shared an order of steamed dumplings and some dumpling soup. The best part of the meal had to be the seating arrangements. With only three tables, it was expected that we would sit with whomever was there. This isn't like a long table where you sit across from your date but you are sitting next to a stranger. This is a four-person table where random people eat their soup together. The Chinese breakfast of soup and dumplings sounds weird but it works. Sitting with an elderly Chinese couple rounds out the experience.
The last meal worth mentioning was at a place called spice something or other which is a chain Sichuan place. Rui wanted to show off some of her hometown cuisine. "You order and surprise me." he says...and the looks at the menu. Typically, in these Chinese places there are a few really odd dishes but this menu was the opposite. Everything was weird. Rui ordered "pig foot" which I later realized was "pig leg." Next up was a spicy dish including hot peppers, congealed pig's blood, pig intestine and...tofu? We finished things off with some odd vegetable plate, and a tofu veggie thing that was like no tofu dish I've ever had. Next time, I'll skip the pig's blood.
Veteran Far East Traveller Right Here.
The last time I arrived at Incheon International in Seoul I was exhausted, frustrated and more than a little nervous. This time, it's all so easy. Customs inspections? Now I laugh as the Chinese couple with the pocket book dog and a dozen bags gets berated first by TSA and then by Korean screeners for not taking laptops out, not emptying pockets and basically, for traveling with a white poofy cliche.
Me? There is nothing in these pockets baby. It's all in the carry-on. IPad? Sure I'll put that in its own bin without being asked. Shoes off? That's easy. I'm wearing Merrills. Dog? What dog? I'm allergic.
Incheon is really quiet at 4am but I almost found myself forgetting to be pushy at the transfer info desk and allowed an older Chinese man to cut me off, despite the fact I was clearly in line. See...in China there is really no such thing as a line. I knew that. I just forgot. I've forgotten more about Asia than you even know. Ok so I'm not actually IN China yet but that besides the point.
Rui has informed me that her flight was cancelled and thus our contest to see who arrives at Pu Dong first has been won by me, by default. Now, I get to actually ask a cab driver to take me from the airport to my hotel. The good news - my hotel is basically on the Bund but that's irrelevant. I'm still going to attempt to explain where I want to go and then, after a short nap, I will find my way down Nanjing rd and attempt to find the amazing dumpling place my tour guide took me to last year for lunch. Maybe I will even take the subway back to the airport to meet Rui. What a pro...
Me? There is nothing in these pockets baby. It's all in the carry-on. IPad? Sure I'll put that in its own bin without being asked. Shoes off? That's easy. I'm wearing Merrills. Dog? What dog? I'm allergic.
Incheon is really quiet at 4am but I almost found myself forgetting to be pushy at the transfer info desk and allowed an older Chinese man to cut me off, despite the fact I was clearly in line. See...in China there is really no such thing as a line. I knew that. I just forgot. I've forgotten more about Asia than you even know. Ok so I'm not actually IN China yet but that besides the point.
Rui has informed me that her flight was cancelled and thus our contest to see who arrives at Pu Dong first has been won by me, by default. Now, I get to actually ask a cab driver to take me from the airport to my hotel. The good news - my hotel is basically on the Bund but that's irrelevant. I'm still going to attempt to explain where I want to go and then, after a short nap, I will find my way down Nanjing rd and attempt to find the amazing dumpling place my tour guide took me to last year for lunch. Maybe I will even take the subway back to the airport to meet Rui. What a pro...
China Trip Number 3 Countdown Begins
My flight leaves in 6 days. I have Ambien, 5mg which I will try tonight. The new suitcase (birthday present from Dad and Cathie) is halfway packed, I have my ride to the airport. My passport is sitting right on top of my computer, along with my plane tickets.
For my first visit to China, I played the tourist. It was fun, but it was tiring and after awhile I burned myself out seeing the greatest tourist attractions. Don't get me wrong, I want to go back to Yang Shuo some day - maybe even in a couple of weeks but being a lone tourist was isolating.
For my second trip, I essentially had my own tour guide to show me around her city. She was kind enough to take a week out of her schedule to babysit me, the American tourist. I got to know Guangzhou very well, ride the subway, try to catch a bus, visit the museum, take an evening stroll in a public park and basically see life from street-level.
Trip number three is going to be different. I arrive in Shanghai on Saturday afternoon where I will spend a week in a city I got to visit for a single full day. I will meet up with a long time friend who has become an American Expat living in Shanghai, learning the language. I will meet up with my former colleague who has transplanted her whole family to this city that has been known as China's real window on the west for well over one hundred years. I will stay at the oldest Western hotel in China, The Astor House, right on the Bund.
This trip will last 5 weeks, with a few days in Korea on my return leg. My companion on this trip will be yet another friend, Rui, from Chengdu. She will meet me at the airport in Shanghai, we will spend a few days together in Shanghai, and then if all goes well I will take an overnight train to her home city of Chengdu, in famous Si Chuan. That's Sezhwan- the place where the food is from for you people who don't know your Chinese geography.
Rui has kindly offered to have me stay with her in Chengdu for the bulk of my stay in China. She works as an automotive reporter (ah the coincidence)for the Chengdu daily paper and travels around China quite a bit, going to ostentatious presentations given by international auto makers in major cities and resorts around the country. Living with Rui will be an interesting experience - she has lots of friends and family in Chengdu and has promised me plenty of dinner parties, KTV and other Chinese social events as well as some day trips around the vast Si Chuan province.
My Dad asked me the other day, what the end-game is.
I realized it the other day - as a student of Western history - the Greeks, the Romans, the Middle Ages etc, I know a lot about my own history and culture. I understand my own society.
My introduction to Anthropology as an academic discipline has opened my eyes to other ways of being. European culture is vibrant and complex but frankly, I know a lot about it. Enough that it is not particularly fascinating anymore. Been there, done that. Tell me when the next revision takes place and I'll argue about it with you.
China is quite literally, terra incognita. It's life but not as we know it. It is this HUGE and ancient side of the world that I am just dipping my toe into. To have any chance of doing anything more than just dipping my toe in the deep pool that is Eastern culture, I have to learn the culture. To learn the culture, I must learn the language. To learn the language, I must eventually and repeatedly immerse myself in it. I have a feeling that 3 weeks in Chengdu will be the first of many forays into deepening my understanding. I delight in discovering new little twists in Chinese language, for example today I learned that the possessive article "de" is not used when describing your family and that the words for son and daughter are vastly different grammatically speaking. "Son" gets its own word (Er), while the word "daughter" essentially translates to "female son" (Nu Er). Stuff like that gets me excited.
So what is the end game? Knowledge and understanding. If I marry a Chinese woman a long the way, don't be too surprised. What better way to learn about China than becoming a member of a Chinese family?
For my first visit to China, I played the tourist. It was fun, but it was tiring and after awhile I burned myself out seeing the greatest tourist attractions. Don't get me wrong, I want to go back to Yang Shuo some day - maybe even in a couple of weeks but being a lone tourist was isolating.
For my second trip, I essentially had my own tour guide to show me around her city. She was kind enough to take a week out of her schedule to babysit me, the American tourist. I got to know Guangzhou very well, ride the subway, try to catch a bus, visit the museum, take an evening stroll in a public park and basically see life from street-level.
Trip number three is going to be different. I arrive in Shanghai on Saturday afternoon where I will spend a week in a city I got to visit for a single full day. I will meet up with a long time friend who has become an American Expat living in Shanghai, learning the language. I will meet up with my former colleague who has transplanted her whole family to this city that has been known as China's real window on the west for well over one hundred years. I will stay at the oldest Western hotel in China, The Astor House, right on the Bund.
This trip will last 5 weeks, with a few days in Korea on my return leg. My companion on this trip will be yet another friend, Rui, from Chengdu. She will meet me at the airport in Shanghai, we will spend a few days together in Shanghai, and then if all goes well I will take an overnight train to her home city of Chengdu, in famous Si Chuan. That's Sezhwan- the place where the food is from for you people who don't know your Chinese geography.
Rui has kindly offered to have me stay with her in Chengdu for the bulk of my stay in China. She works as an automotive reporter (ah the coincidence)for the Chengdu daily paper and travels around China quite a bit, going to ostentatious presentations given by international auto makers in major cities and resorts around the country. Living with Rui will be an interesting experience - she has lots of friends and family in Chengdu and has promised me plenty of dinner parties, KTV and other Chinese social events as well as some day trips around the vast Si Chuan province.
My Dad asked me the other day, what the end-game is.
I realized it the other day - as a student of Western history - the Greeks, the Romans, the Middle Ages etc, I know a lot about my own history and culture. I understand my own society.
My introduction to Anthropology as an academic discipline has opened my eyes to other ways of being. European culture is vibrant and complex but frankly, I know a lot about it. Enough that it is not particularly fascinating anymore. Been there, done that. Tell me when the next revision takes place and I'll argue about it with you.
China is quite literally, terra incognita. It's life but not as we know it. It is this HUGE and ancient side of the world that I am just dipping my toe into. To have any chance of doing anything more than just dipping my toe in the deep pool that is Eastern culture, I have to learn the culture. To learn the culture, I must learn the language. To learn the language, I must eventually and repeatedly immerse myself in it. I have a feeling that 3 weeks in Chengdu will be the first of many forays into deepening my understanding. I delight in discovering new little twists in Chinese language, for example today I learned that the possessive article "de" is not used when describing your family and that the words for son and daughter are vastly different grammatically speaking. "Son" gets its own word (Er), while the word "daughter" essentially translates to "female son" (Nu Er). Stuff like that gets me excited.
So what is the end game? Knowledge and understanding. If I marry a Chinese woman a long the way, don't be too surprised. What better way to learn about China than becoming a member of a Chinese family?
Some long-awaited pictures from my first full day in Guangzhou. Considering it is my last day here, I'm a bit behind. More to post after I get home. Probably my last post for the trip. See you stateside!
I Guess I Should Expect These Things
As a semi-amateur Anthropologist, I should expect that I cannot generalize safely about a culture. Chinese people can at once be some of the most considerate and kind people you will meet while at the same time, rude and pushy.
Take my local coffee house for example. Today is my third visit and upon entering, the manager asked me my name and welcomed me. He even recalled my choice of drink. That’s beyond western-style customer service training.
The other day, Lanzi and I took a frantic rush-hour bus ride to the harbor to catch the river cruise. The bust was packed to the gills. So much so that Lanzi grabbed my wallet containing my Metro pass and told me to get on the back while she got on the front and paid for both of us.
I spent the entire 20-minute bus trip in rush-hour traffic pushed up against the rear door, having to hold on for dear life every time we arrived at a new stop. At one point, a young women jumped up through the back door of the bus as I had. She proceeded to pass her wallet to the person next to her, clearly asking for help. I watched in amazement as this woman’s wallet was passed from person to person up to the front of the bus so her pass could be scanned and then dutifully returned through this human chain. I cannot imagine such a scene being repeated on an American bus.
Yesterday, Lanzi and I went to buy a tea set and some bulk tea. We found a small stall near her home in a bustling marketplace and I picked out my tea set. About halfway through our business dealing, the shopkeeper (who kindly offered me a cigarette while he poured me tea to sample) was joined by his aged mother who quickly greeted me and offered Lanzi and I stools to sit on. As I sat there, she smiled at me and reached into a barrel of sunflower seeds – giving me a generous handful.
Today, I wanted to visit Yue Xiu Park in the heart of old Guangzhou. Lanzi rarely goes there, even though it is very close to “the mountain” as she calls Baiyun. There is a Ming-era watchtower at the heart of the park that I wanted to visit. As we walked through the park, I could hear the sounds of traditional Chinese singing. As we approached the hill where the singing was originating I saw old folks sitting around and some playing, of all things, the Chinese version of hacky sack! I eventually climbed the stairs to see the women who were singing these traditional songs – hoping maybe to see a chorus in traditional garb. Nope. There were two musicians playing accompaniment and a very cheerful women pointing to what must have been notes on a scroll but the AUDIENCE was singing the songs. Lanzi quickly joined-in as I stood there, iPhone dutifully recording, awe-struck. “They do this most days. Older people have very little to do.” Old people also play badminton and hacky-sack apparently, while the more anti-social just walk backwards up steep ramps and do tai chi.
What has been both missed and not missed in Guangzhou this December has been the tourist trap. Missed because I really want to buy some more touristy crap and not missed because of the rude staff. I have only heard “Hello!” here about a half-dozen times. I’ve found my quick shake of the hand and a “Bu yongli, xie xie!” seems to do the trick. (Have I mentioned that I have started to use Chinese hand gestures? Weird…)
As I reached the top of Yue Xiu Park and the Ming tower, I saw it! The first touristy trinket place of the entire trip! It was just as I remember- fans, jade bracelets, scrolls and other stuff that must be made in some giant factory somewhere in China. I figured I would take a look when I got down from the tower. At the top? Another more expensive tourist store, with more expensive artwork and jade carvings. Then it began. “Hello!” The woman in the museum uniform greeted me and began to describe, in very broken English the items I was looking at. “Yes, very nice.” I said. What I meant with my body language and my lack of eye contact was “leave me the hell alone I don’t need help BROWSING!” At each turn, I was intercepted by yet another woman in uniform explaining that she could get me a thirty percent discount and asking if I like Chinese art. Actually, what I like best is to just look at stuff I might want to buy in peace. After about 3 or 4 minutes I took a look at some jade bracelets, thankful for the brief reprieve as the saleswomen seemed to take an interest in some of the Chinese customers.
“You like?” Finally.
“Yes, do you take credit cards?”
Confusion. Rapid-fire Chinese. “Yes, please go visit the Ram Statue and come back. Ten minutes” I just climbed five stories up a Ming Dynasty tower, and now this women wants me to climb down, leave the museum and go visit a tower about 300 meters away and then come back to buy her 50 dollar bracelet with my credit card. My own look of confusion and frustration prompted an explanation. “We are very busy.” Translation - the lady next to me is buying something. Lanzi had been browsing some souvenir coins.
“Let’s go.”
“What?”
“Let’s just go.” I may have offended Lanzi, who works in retail herself, as I tried to explain that Westerners do not like to be hovered over when they shop for something. They like to know that someone is there to help them when they need it but they don’t like to make a new friend as they look for gifts. I had yet to have this experience in Guangzhou and here, on my second to last day, I was pretty irritated.
“It is the Chinese way, you must understand.” What followed was my attempt to explain that, while I’m totally fine pushing and shoving on a subway car, or eating food off of a street cart, or dodging traffic while I cross at a crosswalk with a flashing walk-sign, and even arguing loudly with a merchant at a local kiosk for tea – Lanzi accomplished this by the way, without any yelling yesterday. I didn’t realize what a deal she got me until he handed over the calculator for my approval – what really gets me angry is the simple lack of common sense that these tourist-geared workers seem to have.
As a former salesman myself, I guess I’m really irked when I see people doing business badly. Very badly. It’s not like these people treat the Chinese customers like they treat me. Me, they treat like a handicapped person who needs to be told what wood is. How hard is it to learn, even through TRIAL AND ERROR, that this tactic does not work with western tourists. LEAVE. US. ALONE. If we want to talk to you about the handicrafts, we will ask you for your help. We don’t like you hovering over us. It makes us walk out of your store even when we want to buy something from you. I told Lanzi I could make a killing if some company would hire me to go around and train Chinese souvenir salespeople how to treat their clientele. Lanzi even said that in her store, she has been trained on the western retail model in which you say “hello” when people enter your store, remain a respectful distance and are ready at the drop of a hat to jump to the customer’s aid as soon as their mouth opens to ask you a question. You say goodbye when they leave. It’s easy and clearly they know it and Lanzi doesn’t even deal with western customers all that much.
Her explanation for this treatment? The stores have bad managers. Okay, fine. I briefly entertained a three-hundred dollar purchase until the saleswoman told me that it was “Chinese art” Really? And here I thought it was French…stupid American I am!
Thankfully, this has been my only really negative experience so far in Guangzhou, which seems to deal with the large, bearded white people far better than other Chinese metropolises.
Take my local coffee house for example. Today is my third visit and upon entering, the manager asked me my name and welcomed me. He even recalled my choice of drink. That’s beyond western-style customer service training.
The other day, Lanzi and I took a frantic rush-hour bus ride to the harbor to catch the river cruise. The bust was packed to the gills. So much so that Lanzi grabbed my wallet containing my Metro pass and told me to get on the back while she got on the front and paid for both of us.
I spent the entire 20-minute bus trip in rush-hour traffic pushed up against the rear door, having to hold on for dear life every time we arrived at a new stop. At one point, a young women jumped up through the back door of the bus as I had. She proceeded to pass her wallet to the person next to her, clearly asking for help. I watched in amazement as this woman’s wallet was passed from person to person up to the front of the bus so her pass could be scanned and then dutifully returned through this human chain. I cannot imagine such a scene being repeated on an American bus.
Yesterday, Lanzi and I went to buy a tea set and some bulk tea. We found a small stall near her home in a bustling marketplace and I picked out my tea set. About halfway through our business dealing, the shopkeeper (who kindly offered me a cigarette while he poured me tea to sample) was joined by his aged mother who quickly greeted me and offered Lanzi and I stools to sit on. As I sat there, she smiled at me and reached into a barrel of sunflower seeds – giving me a generous handful.
Today, I wanted to visit Yue Xiu Park in the heart of old Guangzhou. Lanzi rarely goes there, even though it is very close to “the mountain” as she calls Baiyun. There is a Ming-era watchtower at the heart of the park that I wanted to visit. As we walked through the park, I could hear the sounds of traditional Chinese singing. As we approached the hill where the singing was originating I saw old folks sitting around and some playing, of all things, the Chinese version of hacky sack! I eventually climbed the stairs to see the women who were singing these traditional songs – hoping maybe to see a chorus in traditional garb. Nope. There were two musicians playing accompaniment and a very cheerful women pointing to what must have been notes on a scroll but the AUDIENCE was singing the songs. Lanzi quickly joined-in as I stood there, iPhone dutifully recording, awe-struck. “They do this most days. Older people have very little to do.” Old people also play badminton and hacky-sack apparently, while the more anti-social just walk backwards up steep ramps and do tai chi.
What has been both missed and not missed in Guangzhou this December has been the tourist trap. Missed because I really want to buy some more touristy crap and not missed because of the rude staff. I have only heard “Hello!” here about a half-dozen times. I’ve found my quick shake of the hand and a “Bu yongli, xie xie!” seems to do the trick. (Have I mentioned that I have started to use Chinese hand gestures? Weird…)
As I reached the top of Yue Xiu Park and the Ming tower, I saw it! The first touristy trinket place of the entire trip! It was just as I remember- fans, jade bracelets, scrolls and other stuff that must be made in some giant factory somewhere in China. I figured I would take a look when I got down from the tower. At the top? Another more expensive tourist store, with more expensive artwork and jade carvings. Then it began. “Hello!” The woman in the museum uniform greeted me and began to describe, in very broken English the items I was looking at. “Yes, very nice.” I said. What I meant with my body language and my lack of eye contact was “leave me the hell alone I don’t need help BROWSING!” At each turn, I was intercepted by yet another woman in uniform explaining that she could get me a thirty percent discount and asking if I like Chinese art. Actually, what I like best is to just look at stuff I might want to buy in peace. After about 3 or 4 minutes I took a look at some jade bracelets, thankful for the brief reprieve as the saleswomen seemed to take an interest in some of the Chinese customers.
“You like?” Finally.
“Yes, do you take credit cards?”
Confusion. Rapid-fire Chinese. “Yes, please go visit the Ram Statue and come back. Ten minutes” I just climbed five stories up a Ming Dynasty tower, and now this women wants me to climb down, leave the museum and go visit a tower about 300 meters away and then come back to buy her 50 dollar bracelet with my credit card. My own look of confusion and frustration prompted an explanation. “We are very busy.” Translation - the lady next to me is buying something. Lanzi had been browsing some souvenir coins.
“Let’s go.”
“What?”
“Let’s just go.” I may have offended Lanzi, who works in retail herself, as I tried to explain that Westerners do not like to be hovered over when they shop for something. They like to know that someone is there to help them when they need it but they don’t like to make a new friend as they look for gifts. I had yet to have this experience in Guangzhou and here, on my second to last day, I was pretty irritated.
“It is the Chinese way, you must understand.” What followed was my attempt to explain that, while I’m totally fine pushing and shoving on a subway car, or eating food off of a street cart, or dodging traffic while I cross at a crosswalk with a flashing walk-sign, and even arguing loudly with a merchant at a local kiosk for tea – Lanzi accomplished this by the way, without any yelling yesterday. I didn’t realize what a deal she got me until he handed over the calculator for my approval – what really gets me angry is the simple lack of common sense that these tourist-geared workers seem to have.
As a former salesman myself, I guess I’m really irked when I see people doing business badly. Very badly. It’s not like these people treat the Chinese customers like they treat me. Me, they treat like a handicapped person who needs to be told what wood is. How hard is it to learn, even through TRIAL AND ERROR, that this tactic does not work with western tourists. LEAVE. US. ALONE. If we want to talk to you about the handicrafts, we will ask you for your help. We don’t like you hovering over us. It makes us walk out of your store even when we want to buy something from you. I told Lanzi I could make a killing if some company would hire me to go around and train Chinese souvenir salespeople how to treat their clientele. Lanzi even said that in her store, she has been trained on the western retail model in which you say “hello” when people enter your store, remain a respectful distance and are ready at the drop of a hat to jump to the customer’s aid as soon as their mouth opens to ask you a question. You say goodbye when they leave. It’s easy and clearly they know it and Lanzi doesn’t even deal with western customers all that much.
Her explanation for this treatment? The stores have bad managers. Okay, fine. I briefly entertained a three-hundred dollar purchase until the saleswoman told me that it was “Chinese art” Really? And here I thought it was French…stupid American I am!
Thankfully, this has been my only really negative experience so far in Guangzhou, which seems to deal with the large, bearded white people far better than other Chinese metropolises.
Pearl River New City
One of the more interesting sides of China that I have commented upon before seems to be the huge disparity in life-styles but the more time I spend here the more I think I may be missing the mark on some level. Sure, on the street outside my hotel there is a Porsche 911 Turbo, an M5 and a tricked-out Mini Cooper S and down near Beijing road there are countless cripples – whom Lanzi tells me were kidnapped and made cripples as children; an age-old practice by the way in many parts of the world – but this evening it occurred to me that despite the huge gulf between rich and poor, urban and rural, here in Guangzhou people live in what by American standards would be a ghetto yet still have good jobs, decent clothing and truly beautiful city in which to live.
I have not seen Lanzi’s apartment first-hand but I have seen pictures and I’m sure it is one of the thousands of dilapidated apartment buildings that dot this city and where most of its inhabitants live. I will post picture of such buildings shortly but suffice to say, you would not want to live in them. They are Communist-era high rise buildings with pealing paint and bars on the windows. They look downright hovel-ish. I’ve commented before on the smell of urban China – it is bad let me tell you. Down the street the other night, the public trash cans (hey this isn’t Japan you know!) were overflowing with garbage. On a 50 degree night, that is not so bad but come July I’m sure this city will reek to high-heaven with all manner of rotting fish heads and bok choi.
Yet these people leave their simple, dilapidated homes and venture forth into a 21st century metropolis, smarts phones in hand, stylish clothing on their backs and on their days off they climb Baiyun mountain with its signs urging people to exercise thirty minutes a day and advising them to climb at a steady pace and be courteous and respectful to the environment. These signs are in Chinese of course, but also in English which is an interesting side-note. Subtle message to we fat Americans? My TV remote control in the hotel has not a speck of English on it!
Tonight, thought, Lanzi and I took a stroll down to Zhujiang New City, which is literally right outside my hotel high-rise. This area was built in the last four years for the Pan Asian Games and the Olympics. Stepping into Zhujiang is like stepping into the 22nd century.
New City is full of high-rise apartments, office buildings, a new stadium, an opera house and a huge open area for Chinese people to participate in their favorite leisure activity – taking a stroll. Chinese people love to walk – young and old, rich and poor – and New City is the place to do it. This area is so clean and so inviting that I cannot imagine a better place to spend an evening with friends or family. The lights and sounds are stunning. It really is something from the future. I could not help but think of how wonderful such a place is for young children. It would truly be magical for a child to see a place like this – to walk among these lights and sounds. The fact that people have such a place to just walk is wonderful. I asked Lanzi how often these light shows are here for the public. She said they are always here, in some form or another. This is concern for public space like nothing I have seen in the United States. As much as I hate to say it, it is something that only a top-down approach can pull-off without plastering huge Doritos or Pepsi signs all over the place. This is civic action. This is a centralized provincial government that recognizes that it is healthy for its citizens to have a place to meet and socialize safely. It is a government that recognizes that health is important, and walking helps promote health. It is a government that can, with the stroke of a pen, mandate the creation of such a new space, in the middle of a city thousands of years old by buying up the property owned by regular people and – as Lanzi believes anyway – paying them a more than fair market price and then razing all of it to create something out of a science-fiction movie. No need to invoke eminent domain here. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. People USE it. People LOVE it.
As I looked at the elderly sitting on benches or playing with their grandchildren all I could think of is what they must think – men and women who were born into a world of civil war and invasion by a foreign power, who grew up without food, who saw parents starve to death so they might live, who then went on to see, and in many cases participate in, a violent political and social upheaval as a new government turned on itself in order to reinforce insane economic policies, who as adults came to distrust that same government because it could not deliver economic prosperity. What do these old men and women think when they walk here with their children and grandchildren?
I have not seen Lanzi’s apartment first-hand but I have seen pictures and I’m sure it is one of the thousands of dilapidated apartment buildings that dot this city and where most of its inhabitants live. I will post picture of such buildings shortly but suffice to say, you would not want to live in them. They are Communist-era high rise buildings with pealing paint and bars on the windows. They look downright hovel-ish. I’ve commented before on the smell of urban China – it is bad let me tell you. Down the street the other night, the public trash cans (hey this isn’t Japan you know!) were overflowing with garbage. On a 50 degree night, that is not so bad but come July I’m sure this city will reek to high-heaven with all manner of rotting fish heads and bok choi.
Yet these people leave their simple, dilapidated homes and venture forth into a 21st century metropolis, smarts phones in hand, stylish clothing on their backs and on their days off they climb Baiyun mountain with its signs urging people to exercise thirty minutes a day and advising them to climb at a steady pace and be courteous and respectful to the environment. These signs are in Chinese of course, but also in English which is an interesting side-note. Subtle message to we fat Americans? My TV remote control in the hotel has not a speck of English on it!
Tonight, thought, Lanzi and I took a stroll down to Zhujiang New City, which is literally right outside my hotel high-rise. This area was built in the last four years for the Pan Asian Games and the Olympics. Stepping into Zhujiang is like stepping into the 22nd century.
New City is full of high-rise apartments, office buildings, a new stadium, an opera house and a huge open area for Chinese people to participate in their favorite leisure activity – taking a stroll. Chinese people love to walk – young and old, rich and poor – and New City is the place to do it. This area is so clean and so inviting that I cannot imagine a better place to spend an evening with friends or family. The lights and sounds are stunning. It really is something from the future. I could not help but think of how wonderful such a place is for young children. It would truly be magical for a child to see a place like this – to walk among these lights and sounds. The fact that people have such a place to just walk is wonderful. I asked Lanzi how often these light shows are here for the public. She said they are always here, in some form or another. This is concern for public space like nothing I have seen in the United States. As much as I hate to say it, it is something that only a top-down approach can pull-off without plastering huge Doritos or Pepsi signs all over the place. This is civic action. This is a centralized provincial government that recognizes that it is healthy for its citizens to have a place to meet and socialize safely. It is a government that recognizes that health is important, and walking helps promote health. It is a government that can, with the stroke of a pen, mandate the creation of such a new space, in the middle of a city thousands of years old by buying up the property owned by regular people and – as Lanzi believes anyway – paying them a more than fair market price and then razing all of it to create something out of a science-fiction movie. No need to invoke eminent domain here. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. People USE it. People LOVE it.
As I looked at the elderly sitting on benches or playing with their grandchildren all I could think of is what they must think – men and women who were born into a world of civil war and invasion by a foreign power, who grew up without food, who saw parents starve to death so they might live, who then went on to see, and in many cases participate in, a violent political and social upheaval as a new government turned on itself in order to reinforce insane economic policies, who as adults came to distrust that same government because it could not deliver economic prosperity. What do these old men and women think when they walk here with their children and grandchildren?
Guangzhou Underground
Okay, I've figured out where the millions of residents of Guangzhou spend all their time! Yesterday Lanzi and I hiked up Baiyun mountain....well, okay we made it about halfway up before I decided to turn around. Anyway, after our trip up the mountain we headed to Beijing Road - what I thought was an open-air touristy marketplace area. Turned out it was not, it was more like an outdoor mall. We grabbed a quick bite to eat in a nice little spot and then headed to the street. Something didn't agree with me so we were forced to find a real mall where I could find a handicapped bathroom - i.e. a REGULAR toilet. (I find it infinitely amusing that a handicapped bathroom is a requirement for a westerner)
Anyway, following my bathroom misadventures, we made our way back to Tilu Xilu where we had reservations for dinner, we must have walked through three underground malls connecting various subway stations. I think it might actually be possible to do almost anything in Guangzhou without emerging from the underground network of malls, under-street passageways and subway stops - except climb Baiyun mountain that is! I was pretty impressed.
Tomorrow Lanzi will work in the evening, and I found a local coffee shop that appears to have good internet so I
Anyway, following my bathroom misadventures, we made our way back to Tilu Xilu where we had reservations for dinner, we must have walked through three underground malls connecting various subway stations. I think it might actually be possible to do almost anything in Guangzhou without emerging from the underground network of malls, under-street passageways and subway stops - except climb Baiyun mountain that is! I was pretty impressed.
Tomorrow Lanzi will work in the evening, and I found a local coffee shop that appears to have good internet so I
Make me some tea woman!
While walking back from the Metro to our hotel, I asked Lanzi, "Hey, when we get back to the hotel, can I use your phone so I can call my family and wish them Merry Christmas?"
Lanzi chastised me, "Jon! Why do you ask permission for everything? 'Can you make some tea?' 'Can I use your phone?' You just say, 'Give me your phone' or 'Make some tea' It is silly!" And thus another wonderful opportunity to think about one of my favorite topics - comparative linguistics.
You see, you silly English speaker, you have probably never thought about it before but you include many utterances in your statements that are purely ritualistic and thus not required. However, when absent, they would be sorely missed which is exactly why I will not tell Lanzi to "make some tea" unless I'm making a joke. If I ask for tea in Chinese, I will, however say, "Wo yao chai." Which means, "I want tea."
Lanzi was amused to learn that even among close friends and family, most Americans will say things like, "Yo, dude, can I borrow your phone to make a quick call?" Even when both conversational participants know that it is a forgone conclusion that the phone will be dutifully handed over for use. In Chinese, you would just say, "Give me your phone." If you walked into a McDonald's and in English said, "I want coffee" you would certainly get some strange looks or perhaps a wise-ass reply, "Really? Thanks for sharing." Even the most rude and brusque among us would say, "Lemme get a large coffee." The 'let me' utterance is asking for permission. We don't even think about this simple thing but to Lanzi and other Chinese, English speakers seem overly polite and formal.
The thing to remember for the student of ethno-linguistics is that Chinese people are not rude for speaking in this way - it does not imply a lack of respect for you or your feelings - it is just how their language is constructed. Americans, as we all know, are hardly known for our subservient and fawning attitudes but when I speak like this to a Chinese person that is how I may come across - tentative or unsure.
So when I got back to the hotel, I said "Make me some tea!" We had a good laugh.
Lanzi chastised me, "Jon! Why do you ask permission for everything? 'Can you make some tea?' 'Can I use your phone?' You just say, 'Give me your phone' or 'Make some tea' It is silly!" And thus another wonderful opportunity to think about one of my favorite topics - comparative linguistics.
You see, you silly English speaker, you have probably never thought about it before but you include many utterances in your statements that are purely ritualistic and thus not required. However, when absent, they would be sorely missed which is exactly why I will not tell Lanzi to "make some tea" unless I'm making a joke. If I ask for tea in Chinese, I will, however say, "Wo yao chai." Which means, "I want tea."
Lanzi was amused to learn that even among close friends and family, most Americans will say things like, "Yo, dude, can I borrow your phone to make a quick call?" Even when both conversational participants know that it is a forgone conclusion that the phone will be dutifully handed over for use. In Chinese, you would just say, "Give me your phone." If you walked into a McDonald's and in English said, "I want coffee" you would certainly get some strange looks or perhaps a wise-ass reply, "Really? Thanks for sharing." Even the most rude and brusque among us would say, "Lemme get a large coffee." The 'let me' utterance is asking for permission. We don't even think about this simple thing but to Lanzi and other Chinese, English speakers seem overly polite and formal.
The thing to remember for the student of ethno-linguistics is that Chinese people are not rude for speaking in this way - it does not imply a lack of respect for you or your feelings - it is just how their language is constructed. Americans, as we all know, are hardly known for our subservient and fawning attitudes but when I speak like this to a Chinese person that is how I may come across - tentative or unsure.
So when I got back to the hotel, I said "Make me some tea!" We had a good laugh.
Today, Lanzi and I tried to hit as many of the places as possible that I put on my list. Right now, it's about 3pm and we are back at our hotel relaxing before our evening river cruise.
The highlight of our day was a visit to Chen Family Temple. As my East Asian Cultures students can tell you, family is very important in China and the Chen clan here in Guangdong was a very important family in ages past. All families, from the Emperor's to the poorest peasant had some sort of shrine and land for the worship of ancestors. The Chen, being wealthy and powerful had a huge compound in the center of Guangzhou. Members of the Chen clan could come from around China and stay here. This worship of ancestors is very foreign to Americans but suffice to say, it would sort of be like if your last name was Smith, this would be a place that all Smiths would be welcomed. The Chen Family Temple today is mostly a museum housing arts and crafts but as you will see in the pictures, it is a truly beautiful place. Out of all the places I have visited in China, I would rank this as about the best for it's peace and quiet and beautiful artwork.
Before entering the Chen family compound, however, Lanzi spotted a food festival where local providers of food had set up a shop. Outside was a row of dried meat and fruit with free samples (I tried some dried fish - pretty good! and bought some dried plums - a half kilo for about 3 bucks. I have about 30 plums.) I have been dying for a good kebob since Beijing so when I saw some people in Mongolian dress dancing to hip-hop music and cooking kebob, I was sold. I bought two big fat kebobs for 15 Yuan (2 bucks and change). Thinking they were lamb, I was remarking to myself about the lack of exceptional taste versus the ones I had had in Beijing in August. Lanzi could see how much I was enjoying my food so, being a good Chinese woman she egged me on to get more. Returning to the booth I decided I would try something exotic that they were cooking so I found a young dancing Mongol (Lanzi said they aren't Mongols just dressed like them but I am going to ignore that) and had Lanzi ask what kind of little kebobs he was selling. He said Lamb! Now the mystery. What had I just eaten? Do you really want to know? Really? Sure? You might be mad. I ate Bambi. Not so exotic I know, but the picture above the Kebobs that I hadn't seen before was actually a very young little deer so I dunno, maybe I was eating baby deer. So for another 1.50 I bought 5 more little Lamb kebobs and enjoyed the truely wonderful taste of street food yet again.
I will write later about my other adventures - playing with reincarnated cats at a Buddhist temple and trying to explain my feelings on Communism to Lanzi after a short break to soak my feet.
Again, no pictures, I can't even be sure I can post this blog entry. Stupid Internet.
The highlight of our day was a visit to Chen Family Temple. As my East Asian Cultures students can tell you, family is very important in China and the Chen clan here in Guangdong was a very important family in ages past. All families, from the Emperor's to the poorest peasant had some sort of shrine and land for the worship of ancestors. The Chen, being wealthy and powerful had a huge compound in the center of Guangzhou. Members of the Chen clan could come from around China and stay here. This worship of ancestors is very foreign to Americans but suffice to say, it would sort of be like if your last name was Smith, this would be a place that all Smiths would be welcomed. The Chen Family Temple today is mostly a museum housing arts and crafts but as you will see in the pictures, it is a truly beautiful place. Out of all the places I have visited in China, I would rank this as about the best for it's peace and quiet and beautiful artwork.
Before entering the Chen family compound, however, Lanzi spotted a food festival where local providers of food had set up a shop. Outside was a row of dried meat and fruit with free samples (I tried some dried fish - pretty good! and bought some dried plums - a half kilo for about 3 bucks. I have about 30 plums.) I have been dying for a good kebob since Beijing so when I saw some people in Mongolian dress dancing to hip-hop music and cooking kebob, I was sold. I bought two big fat kebobs for 15 Yuan (2 bucks and change). Thinking they were lamb, I was remarking to myself about the lack of exceptional taste versus the ones I had had in Beijing in August. Lanzi could see how much I was enjoying my food so, being a good Chinese woman she egged me on to get more. Returning to the booth I decided I would try something exotic that they were cooking so I found a young dancing Mongol (Lanzi said they aren't Mongols just dressed like them but I am going to ignore that) and had Lanzi ask what kind of little kebobs he was selling. He said Lamb! Now the mystery. What had I just eaten? Do you really want to know? Really? Sure? You might be mad. I ate Bambi. Not so exotic I know, but the picture above the Kebobs that I hadn't seen before was actually a very young little deer so I dunno, maybe I was eating baby deer. So for another 1.50 I bought 5 more little Lamb kebobs and enjoyed the truely wonderful taste of street food yet again.
I will write later about my other adventures - playing with reincarnated cats at a Buddhist temple and trying to explain my feelings on Communism to Lanzi after a short break to soak my feet.
Again, no pictures, I can't even be sure I can post this blog entry. Stupid Internet.
Merry Christmas from Guangzhou! Sorry about the pictures
Ho ho ho, come buy stuff for everyone you know!
When I arrived in Guangzhou, it dawned on me that I would be missing Christmas. I know that sounds a little silly, but again - knowledge and understanding. I felt a little like I was missing out. In 38 years I have never missed Christmas. As much of a scrooge as I am, I suppose I do like it after-all.
So last night was Christmas Eve and Lanzi had to work at Teemall. I was exhausted. Lack of sleep on the plane, lack of sleep in Tokyo coupled with all that walking around - but I dragged myself to Teemall anyway.
I have not missed Christmas. They do it here. The entire mall is done up just like an American one. I saw Russian Christmas many years ago, and that was different. They have Father Frost, a cruel man with a battle-axe who apparently eviscerates children. In China, they are selling fake trees, putting poinsettias in the mall, playing everyone's favorite Christmas carols and some Chinese versions of the same. I saw people in traditional Chinese garb, singing version of Christmas songs in that cacophonous voice that the Chinese use to sing traditional songs. And...yes, Santas. Chinese Santas everywhere. What. The. Hell.
Anyway, I think that retailers here have figured out the trick. Make everyone buy everyone else presents. Lanzi told me that people buy themselves new things for Chinese New Year - celebrated in February most years - so there is no need for this but I don't think she quite gets the conspiracy even though the mall where is works is very busy.
Spending a few hours in Chinese malls and stores is not something I had done before, and it continues to drive home the clear message: this country is changing. In ten years, the Chinese companies will have convinced the Chinese people that they need to buy presents for everyone in their lives in December AND new clothes for themselves in February to mark the new year. Apple, the GAP, and Teemall have it figured out. Forget 300 million American consumers spending billions every December...convince the Chinese to do Christmas and they get a billion people buying dozens of presents each. How's that for a holiday sales report?
Oh, sorry about the pictures. They are not uploading from my hotel's crappy wifi connection. You will all have to wait until I return and upload pictures to Facebook. The Santa picture above? My Christmas miracle!
So last night was Christmas Eve and Lanzi had to work at Teemall. I was exhausted. Lack of sleep on the plane, lack of sleep in Tokyo coupled with all that walking around - but I dragged myself to Teemall anyway.
I have not missed Christmas. They do it here. The entire mall is done up just like an American one. I saw Russian Christmas many years ago, and that was different. They have Father Frost, a cruel man with a battle-axe who apparently eviscerates children. In China, they are selling fake trees, putting poinsettias in the mall, playing everyone's favorite Christmas carols and some Chinese versions of the same. I saw people in traditional Chinese garb, singing version of Christmas songs in that cacophonous voice that the Chinese use to sing traditional songs. And...yes, Santas. Chinese Santas everywhere. What. The. Hell.
Anyway, I think that retailers here have figured out the trick. Make everyone buy everyone else presents. Lanzi told me that people buy themselves new things for Chinese New Year - celebrated in February most years - so there is no need for this but I don't think she quite gets the conspiracy even though the mall where is works is very busy.
Spending a few hours in Chinese malls and stores is not something I had done before, and it continues to drive home the clear message: this country is changing. In ten years, the Chinese companies will have convinced the Chinese people that they need to buy presents for everyone in their lives in December AND new clothes for themselves in February to mark the new year. Apple, the GAP, and Teemall have it figured out. Forget 300 million American consumers spending billions every December...convince the Chinese to do Christmas and they get a billion people buying dozens of presents each. How's that for a holiday sales report?
Oh, sorry about the pictures. They are not uploading from my hotel's crappy wifi connection. You will all have to wait until I return and upload pictures to Facebook. The Santa picture above? My Christmas miracle!
Guangzhou, China, December 24th, The Metro
Holy crap! There was an original series Star Trek episode in which Kirk and company arrive on a horribly overpopulated planet. I don't remember the plot but I remember them opening a window and there was a throng of grim-faced people shuffling along. That was the metro this morning. It's Monday morning and the hotel is in the center of the tianhe district of Guangzhou. Busy does not describe what I saw. The subway cars were full to bursting. Picture New York's subway at rush hour. Then double that. Then double it again. Imagine this throng trying to go up an escalator. I would have photographed it but I was afraid to take out my camera for fear of losing it in the mad dash.
It was exactly like that episode of star trek...grim faced, determined. Not a smile on anyone's face. No casual conversation among coworkers or lovers. Push. Cut-off. Press.
The metro itself is very clean and new. The volume of people is terrifying and amazing. The doors open and all at once everyone pushes. At one point I pushed Lanzi out the door of a car. I was proud of myself. I only muttered "sorry" once before remembering I was in China. Lanzi was matter-of-fact and even annoyed with my observation about the volume of people. "This is China." she stated what should have been obvious. Knowing and understanding are very different animals.
It was exactly like that episode of star trek...grim faced, determined. Not a smile on anyone's face. No casual conversation among coworkers or lovers. Push. Cut-off. Press.
The metro itself is very clean and new. The volume of people is terrifying and amazing. The doors open and all at once everyone pushes. At one point I pushed Lanzi out the door of a car. I was proud of myself. I only muttered "sorry" once before remembering I was in China. Lanzi was matter-of-fact and even annoyed with my observation about the volume of people. "This is China." she stated what should have been obvious. Knowing and understanding are very different animals.
Hai! December 23rd, Japan
Okay I'm impressed. The train I'm sitting on as I write this is basically from the 22nd century. The train station itself is impecable. The train cars line up so you can actually stand on the platform where your car will be. There are reserved seats. A menu. Each car has a man who cleans it at the last stop and flips the seats around. The ride is 4500 yen which is about 50 bucks but remember, American do,Lars don't buy much in Japan.
When arriving last night, I saw a sign at the airport that the video camera was taking my temperature. Okay. Where is the retinal scan? The immigration service photographed and fingerprinted me.
The Japanese train system is world-renown and as I ride this train I have to ask, self-critical American that I am, why we do not have a rail system that makes travel this easy and pleasant? The more I travel in Asia the more I see how expensive American cultural values are. We don't have trains like this because people will vandalize them. Why? Because we value individualism so much. The upside of our cultural values? Freedom and innovation. The downsides? Well...look around. We can't have nice things. I'm not advocating major changes to our culture here. I'm just pointing out the prices we pay for our value systems.
Case in point? Rail accident last night on the NEX line. Another such accident this morning shut service down elsewhere. I realized it this morning. Gotta be suicides. gotta conform here. Can't march to your own drum. Won't destroy vending machines in a train station.
So much to learn about this place too....
Some other observations from my 4 hour trip into Tokyo
Japanese people really dress well. Okay, not all of the but an overwhelming majority do. You can't be overdressed in Tokyo. Sunday afternoon and most men were wearing ties. Women dress like they are going clubbing. High heels, mini-skirts, thigh high boots. I think if you dress like a bum here you are making some sort of counter-culture statement.
My gaming buddy Nobi (not Japanese) lived in Tokyo for 10 years for work. He told me not to worry about finding my way around Tokyo. Beijing this is not. Ginza reminded me of a mixture of NY and Boston. Very upscale, very fashionable. It's a world capital.
There are no trash cans in Tokyo and no trash. If you search around in a subway station you can find a trash can. I find it fascinating that the streets are not waist deep in litter. Grabbed some Starbucks and wound up with an empty cup in my pocket for a good hour. I guess that is what Japanese do...pocket their trash. Interesting.
Anyone in any official capacity speaks English...at least a little. Why I wonder? It makes sense to see signs in Spanish in the USA. A HUGE proportion of our country's population are Spanish speakers. Why is every sign and announcement in English? I'm not complaining...
The Japanese are very orderly. I suppose I knew this but to see it is something else. They put signs everywhere telling people to walk up stairs on the left. They wait for walk signs. Cars let pedestrians go. It's scary.
The same Asian privacy issues that I discovered in China are in full-effect here in Japan. My current thinking is that this respect for others must come from a blending of Confucian virtues and Buddhist respect for the sentience of those around us. It's really hard to pin down what I mean here but go spend some time in Asia. The amount of respect people demonstrate for one another is very non-western. I can tie this back to our fixation on individual versus collective rights. A individualistic culture is ego centric. Again, I'm not judging...just observing. And yes, despite the fact that Chinese people cut one another off constantly, they do show great deference to one another in other circumstances.
Sushi. I have no palette to speak of but I do know Sushi is all about texture. Well, today I had some serious texture down in Tsukiji. The famous market was closed but I found a literal ma and pa sushi place for lunch. For 2600 yen - about 30 bucks - I had some damn good sushi. The seaweed wrapping that we get in the states lacks texture. The wrapping here was very crunchy. The fish was fish. Of course, one thing I ate had a texture that I couldn't quite handle. Oh, and no wasabi! Just soy sauce and red ginger.
When arriving last night, I saw a sign at the airport that the video camera was taking my temperature. Okay. Where is the retinal scan? The immigration service photographed and fingerprinted me.
The Japanese train system is world-renown and as I ride this train I have to ask, self-critical American that I am, why we do not have a rail system that makes travel this easy and pleasant? The more I travel in Asia the more I see how expensive American cultural values are. We don't have trains like this because people will vandalize them. Why? Because we value individualism so much. The upside of our cultural values? Freedom and innovation. The downsides? Well...look around. We can't have nice things. I'm not advocating major changes to our culture here. I'm just pointing out the prices we pay for our value systems.
Case in point? Rail accident last night on the NEX line. Another such accident this morning shut service down elsewhere. I realized it this morning. Gotta be suicides. gotta conform here. Can't march to your own drum. Won't destroy vending machines in a train station.
So much to learn about this place too....
Some other observations from my 4 hour trip into Tokyo
Japanese people really dress well. Okay, not all of the but an overwhelming majority do. You can't be overdressed in Tokyo. Sunday afternoon and most men were wearing ties. Women dress like they are going clubbing. High heels, mini-skirts, thigh high boots. I think if you dress like a bum here you are making some sort of counter-culture statement.
My gaming buddy Nobi (not Japanese) lived in Tokyo for 10 years for work. He told me not to worry about finding my way around Tokyo. Beijing this is not. Ginza reminded me of a mixture of NY and Boston. Very upscale, very fashionable. It's a world capital.
There are no trash cans in Tokyo and no trash. If you search around in a subway station you can find a trash can. I find it fascinating that the streets are not waist deep in litter. Grabbed some Starbucks and wound up with an empty cup in my pocket for a good hour. I guess that is what Japanese do...pocket their trash. Interesting.
Anyone in any official capacity speaks English...at least a little. Why I wonder? It makes sense to see signs in Spanish in the USA. A HUGE proportion of our country's population are Spanish speakers. Why is every sign and announcement in English? I'm not complaining...
The Japanese are very orderly. I suppose I knew this but to see it is something else. They put signs everywhere telling people to walk up stairs on the left. They wait for walk signs. Cars let pedestrians go. It's scary.
The same Asian privacy issues that I discovered in China are in full-effect here in Japan. My current thinking is that this respect for others must come from a blending of Confucian virtues and Buddhist respect for the sentience of those around us. It's really hard to pin down what I mean here but go spend some time in Asia. The amount of respect people demonstrate for one another is very non-western. I can tie this back to our fixation on individual versus collective rights. A individualistic culture is ego centric. Again, I'm not judging...just observing. And yes, despite the fact that Chinese people cut one another off constantly, they do show great deference to one another in other circumstances.
Sushi. I have no palette to speak of but I do know Sushi is all about texture. Well, today I had some serious texture down in Tsukiji. The famous market was closed but I found a literal ma and pa sushi place for lunch. For 2600 yen - about 30 bucks - I had some damn good sushi. The seaweed wrapping that we get in the states lacks texture. The wrapping here was very crunchy. The fish was fish. Of course, one thing I ate had a texture that I couldn't quite handle. Oh, and no wasabi! Just soy sauce and red ginger.
Don't take the Kimono
With a few minutes to kill before breakfast, I thought I might share a few impressions of Japan based upon my hotel experience and the airport. First thing, everyone here seems to speak a little English. Just a little. The woman at the train station last night was able to explain that there had been an accident on the Narita Express so I could not go to Tokyo. She seemed overly relieved when I told her I planned to leave in the morning and did not buy a ticket.
ANA was not what I expected. After my great experience on Korea Air I thought that I would be served by flight attendants dressed as geishas - offered a traditional tea ceremony in the aisle and treated to kabuki theater on my entertainment system...which would also plan my trip to Tokyo for me with it's AI brain - "What would you like to see in Tokyo Matthews-San?" Unfortunately, ANA was only slightly nicer than Chinese airlines but the stewardesses do a great job of seeming really really excited to tell you to put your seat back up. Japanese are very good at making you seem important. It is kinda nice.
My hotel is a curious mix of the modern and old. The carpet is stained, the furniture is old and lousy yet it is very clean over-all and it comes with its own kimono which I did not discover until this morning. As tempted as I am to take the Kimono I will be nice. Japanese TV is as strange as you think it is.
Now, off to breakfast and then Tokyo. Hopefully I can figure out how to get back to the airport in time for my flight. Sayonara!
ANA was not what I expected. After my great experience on Korea Air I thought that I would be served by flight attendants dressed as geishas - offered a traditional tea ceremony in the aisle and treated to kabuki theater on my entertainment system...which would also plan my trip to Tokyo for me with it's AI brain - "What would you like to see in Tokyo Matthews-San?" Unfortunately, ANA was only slightly nicer than Chinese airlines but the stewardesses do a great job of seeming really really excited to tell you to put your seat back up. Japanese are very good at making you seem important. It is kinda nice.
My hotel is a curious mix of the modern and old. The carpet is stained, the furniture is old and lousy yet it is very clean over-all and it comes with its own kimono which I did not discover until this morning. As tempted as I am to take the Kimono I will be nice. Japanese TV is as strange as you think it is.
Now, off to breakfast and then Tokyo. Hopefully I can figure out how to get back to the airport in time for my flight. Sayonara!
Arrived Narita, Japan. All the signs are in English. I'm staying in the Japanese version of a crappy motel - it has a bidet. Why do Japanese people wear masks? Are they sick or are they afraid of getting sick because either way - I don't think that works. Train early tmrw to Tokyo - flight leaves for Guangzhou at 5pm. Tired. Sleep.
Look for me in Africa...
So as many of you know, I am departing Friday morning for a marathon 48 hour journey to Guangzhou. Guangzhou used to be known in the west as the city of Canton - where we get Cantonese food and the Chinese dialect known as Cantonese.
I will be spending 8 nights in GZ (as the locals call it) in a residence hotel in a recently built area that I believe is called "New City." My last trip to China was life-changing but I regretted my lack of ability to really connect with Chinese people other than my tour guides. This time I will be spending most of my time with my friend Lanzi - a thirty year old woman from a village west of GZ who has lived in the city most of her adult life. I've asked Lanzi to be my tour-guide to real Chinese culture. I've asked her to show me what life is like in this city.
Lanzi is a big fan of American culture and speaks passable English. She has promised she won't "sell me to Africa" - apparently the running joke in China these days. If I don't update this blog - look for me in Africa. I'll be easy to find I'm sure.
First stop - Tokyo for 22 hours - giving me some time to sleep and about 5 hours of time in central Tokyo to get some really good sushi and see the Imperial palace. I will try to update daily. Bao Zhong!
I will be spending 8 nights in GZ (as the locals call it) in a residence hotel in a recently built area that I believe is called "New City." My last trip to China was life-changing but I regretted my lack of ability to really connect with Chinese people other than my tour guides. This time I will be spending most of my time with my friend Lanzi - a thirty year old woman from a village west of GZ who has lived in the city most of her adult life. I've asked Lanzi to be my tour-guide to real Chinese culture. I've asked her to show me what life is like in this city.
Lanzi is a big fan of American culture and speaks passable English. She has promised she won't "sell me to Africa" - apparently the running joke in China these days. If I don't update this blog - look for me in Africa. I'll be easy to find I'm sure.
First stop - Tokyo for 22 hours - giving me some time to sleep and about 5 hours of time in central Tokyo to get some really good sushi and see the Imperial palace. I will try to update daily. Bao Zhong!
I like eating Chinese food. There are two glasses of beer. There is a glass of Ice.
"wo xi huan.... che... Zhongguo cai."
"Yes!"
My Mandarin study and study of Chinese culture continues to fascinate me. You can bust my chops all you want - 'Hunan Jon' is the Scarpa clan's favorite jibe - but this is a very very different and fascinating place. So much so that, yes, I have purchased a ticket to visit Guangzhou in December - and yes there is a pretty Chinese girl in Guangzhou. Pronounced "Gwang Joe" with a hard "J." The city, not the pretty girl. I'm pretty curious to see both.
But back to my study of Chinese language. I have learned, from my teacher Li that "ma ma hu hu" which means, "horse horse tiger tiger", is the Chinese way of saying "so-so" in response to the actual question, "Are you good?" Ni hao ma. Li didn't know why Chinese people respond to "How are you feeling?" with "Horse horse, tiger tiger." So she looked it up and translated a video she was watching, from the Chinese version of Youtube. It comes from a fascinating and weird folktale of art gone awry and children being eaten by tigers.
Li is obsessed with her own Chinese accent when she speaks English, so she insists that I speak correctly. She always provides a good model by repeating the phrase back to me. I don't get all my Chinese from her. I'm learning Mandarin with the dreaded northern accent as Li lives just outside of Beijing. In much the same way I live just outside of New York. I was struggling to pronounce the Chinese word for person, spelled "ren" but technically prounoucned with a rolling sort sound between a J and an R. Thankfully, Li is a notherner so she likes that R sound better than most Chinese people. She said, "Your 'ren' is fine. Yang Yang would not agree.
Yoyochinese is the website I have been using to learn Mandarin in addition to bouncing my pronunciation and questions off of Li. Yang Yang is yet another cute Chinese girl but from Pasadena and with less of an accent than Li. So, between these two cute Chinese girls - one who costs me $15.95 a month and the other who requires payment in photographs of my food, my life and discussions of American and Chinese culture - I am slowly learning Mandarin Chinese. If all goes according to plan, I will be able to misunderstood reasonably well in Guangzhou.
I'm very excited about my next journey to China. The woman who has agreed to be my tour guide in GZ - look at Lao Shi Matthews with the lingo - has promised me a very Chinese trip. I've even asked if we can visit the village where she grew up. "Very poor" she said, but she also agreed. My plan is to have enough working Mandarin that on this trip, I can actually handle telling a cab driver where I want to go, navigate the public transit system myself, and even order lunch - which I managed to successfully accomplish at my local Chinese place, where they actually speak Cantonese. At least they know Mandarin.
Poor Matthew. He has to sit across from me at a booth at Jroo's while I figure out how to describe the objects on the table. "Zhe liang bei pi jiu" Now I will try to get creative. "Zhe si bei." Wait, is that okay? Do I need to use "are" in there? Why do the Chinese have a verb "to be" that they never seem to use? How can an adverb or adjective function like a verb? Why do Chinese people have to be asleep at 2pm on a Monday morning - I mean Sunday afternoon? I settled for "Zhe liang bei pi jiu. Zhe yi bei bing shui" I don't know how or if one can say "and" in Chinese. Thankfully, it is 4:30 Tuesday morning in China as I write this and Li can probably tell me how to say "and" when she wakes up. I keep forgetting to ask.
"Yes!"
My Mandarin study and study of Chinese culture continues to fascinate me. You can bust my chops all you want - 'Hunan Jon' is the Scarpa clan's favorite jibe - but this is a very very different and fascinating place. So much so that, yes, I have purchased a ticket to visit Guangzhou in December - and yes there is a pretty Chinese girl in Guangzhou. Pronounced "Gwang Joe" with a hard "J." The city, not the pretty girl. I'm pretty curious to see both.
But back to my study of Chinese language. I have learned, from my teacher Li that "ma ma hu hu" which means, "horse horse tiger tiger", is the Chinese way of saying "so-so" in response to the actual question, "Are you good?" Ni hao ma. Li didn't know why Chinese people respond to "How are you feeling?" with "Horse horse, tiger tiger." So she looked it up and translated a video she was watching, from the Chinese version of Youtube. It comes from a fascinating and weird folktale of art gone awry and children being eaten by tigers.
Li is obsessed with her own Chinese accent when she speaks English, so she insists that I speak correctly. She always provides a good model by repeating the phrase back to me. I don't get all my Chinese from her. I'm learning Mandarin with the dreaded northern accent as Li lives just outside of Beijing. In much the same way I live just outside of New York. I was struggling to pronounce the Chinese word for person, spelled "ren" but technically prounoucned with a rolling sort sound between a J and an R. Thankfully, Li is a notherner so she likes that R sound better than most Chinese people. She said, "Your 'ren' is fine. Yang Yang would not agree.
Yoyochinese is the website I have been using to learn Mandarin in addition to bouncing my pronunciation and questions off of Li. Yang Yang is yet another cute Chinese girl but from Pasadena and with less of an accent than Li. So, between these two cute Chinese girls - one who costs me $15.95 a month and the other who requires payment in photographs of my food, my life and discussions of American and Chinese culture - I am slowly learning Mandarin Chinese. If all goes according to plan, I will be able to misunderstood reasonably well in Guangzhou.
I'm very excited about my next journey to China. The woman who has agreed to be my tour guide in GZ - look at Lao Shi Matthews with the lingo - has promised me a very Chinese trip. I've even asked if we can visit the village where she grew up. "Very poor" she said, but she also agreed. My plan is to have enough working Mandarin that on this trip, I can actually handle telling a cab driver where I want to go, navigate the public transit system myself, and even order lunch - which I managed to successfully accomplish at my local Chinese place, where they actually speak Cantonese. At least they know Mandarin.
Poor Matthew. He has to sit across from me at a booth at Jroo's while I figure out how to describe the objects on the table. "Zhe liang bei pi jiu" Now I will try to get creative. "Zhe si bei." Wait, is that okay? Do I need to use "are" in there? Why do the Chinese have a verb "to be" that they never seem to use? How can an adverb or adjective function like a verb? Why do Chinese people have to be asleep at 2pm on a Monday morning - I mean Sunday afternoon? I settled for "Zhe liang bei pi jiu. Zhe yi bei bing shui" I don't know how or if one can say "and" in Chinese. Thankfully, it is 4:30 Tuesday morning in China as I write this and Li can probably tell me how to say "and" when she wakes up. I keep forgetting to ask.
"Chinesing" back in the states. August 20th, 2012
Well, I guess the blog is not done. I have been home from China a little over a week but in many ways, I still feel like I am there. This is self-inflicted. A few days ago, I remembered that there exists a website called QQ that serves as one of many of China's alternatives to social networks. A Chinese dissident recently said that China's main issue with Internet censorship has little to do with what people are actually saying, they just want to have control of the servers.
Thus, Facebook exists in China - it is just based in Beijing and the security services have access to everything on it. More about that issue in a later blog post. After all, this site is banned in China.
Anyway, I signed up for QQ and simply posted in a forum that I was interested in learning Chinese in exchange for helping people with English. You see, I have decided to learn Mandarin. Why? Because frankly I stink at languages. I took Spanish for 4 years plus extra course work in college. Russia for one semester. I was a horrible language student. As I have gotten older, and been forced to teach a unit on linguistics I have become fascinated by language and how it functions. I feel like a moron due to my monolingualism. I always have. My Russian professor spoke 12 languages. What? My cousin Carl? Italian, French, Spanish and Arabic. All fluently. Me? I'm able to pronounce stuff on the menu in a Mexican place and say "Have intercourse with your mother", "Good morning" and "I love you" in Russian. Plus, speak with a damn fine Russian accent if I don't say so myself.
So, back to Mandarin. It is the hardest language to learn apparently. So if I can conquer my personal phobia about math, can't I also conquer my belief that I can't learn another language? I have signed up for a website called yoyo Chinese - actually I am trying it for free at the moment - and am learning those basic Chinese phrases that I didn't learn before I left. Conversational stuff. Things linguists call "Basic Interpersonal Communication" I'm sometimes able to talk like an idiot in Chinese.
To most white people, Chinese sounds like absolute gibberish. I would explain this as an element of ethnocentrism to my Anthro students and it really is. Chinese sounds so damn funny to you because you never learned to speak particular sounds. The reason English sounds so freakin stupid and silly to Chinese people who don't speak it is because they also don't believe some of the sounds you make- like "v" - belong in normal conversation. In addition, Chinese is a tonal language so as I have learned, Chinese people are basically always singing. My new Chinese virtual and real friends sing quite a bit when they are not speaking Chinese. Might be why Karaoke is so big over there...
So, back to QQ. I was inundated with requests from people to get help with English in exchange for helping me pronounce things like an 18 month old child. Actually, 18 month old children don't need the kind of help I need unless they have a major speech impediment.
I have met Lanzi, a 30 year old accountant turned clothing saleswoman from Guangzhou - Canton - in southern China. She lives with her uncle's family. She is the youngest of four children from the country-side and works in the largest mall in China. Her father is sick and just moved back to his hometown and out of his oldest son's home.
Xin is a 21 year old "boy" who has a real interest in history. I had to explain the boy was the wrong word in English. Xin is a typical brash young Chinese man who loves to tease loudly and at times inappropriately but at the same time is very bright and able to look up things online with amazing speed. "Jon, can you tell me what is similar between Marcus Aurelius and Marcus Cicero?" I think he was actually testing me. They were both Roman politicians and accomplished stoic philosophers in their own rights. Xin is quickly able to give me any Chinese phrase I want, but getting him to explain the tones takes some time. He is an interesting kid who wants to talk about American sports, and politics and is quick to inquire about what I am doing. Nǐ zài zòu shén ma. That's a question in Chinese. Ma at the end. That's how I know.
"Wendy" speaks no English but her friend Ling does. Wendy and her friend are government employees in Wuhan in central China. They video chatted me while I got ready for bed around 11pm the other night, which is of course, lunch time in a Chinese government owned office. Wendy has to translate everything I say using software but Ling and I can chat reasonably well via text. Yao is a college student who can type English very well but cannot understand spoken English well. I am able to send her snipits of English voice messages using QQ's mobile application. I basically try out my Chinese on these three.
Then there is Elizabeth, or Li. Li teaches pre-school English in Yangkuo, which is reasonably near Beijing. I get the sense that Li comes from a well-off family. She does not drive a car but takes the metro into town to teach several classes of kids every day. She was very quick to send me a 30 min video clip of her pre-schoolers saying "Hello!" and singing in English. She has been my language instructor. Every evening at around 7 or 8pm I get a buzz on my phone as Li wakes up and says hi. I should note around that time I typically get about four or five such buzzes from my new virtual friends. Then I'm usually buzzing them first thing in the morning as they get ready to go out for the night, or are just winding down from a full day at work. . She quickly introduced me to a feature of QQ mobile that allows us to send walkie-talkie style messages back and forth. I got Nǐ zài zòu shén ma from her on Saturday and I am able to ask her right away, via walkie-talkie if my pronunciation of new stuff I have learned from Yang Yang on YoYo Chinese is working out okay. I can count to ten to her and she will reply with a high pitched squeal of approval a-la a pre-school teacher, "That is GREAT!" More importantly, when I try to say "Shuō Cáo Cāo Cáo Cāo Dào" for the thirteenth time she goes, "Good try, you are getting there but it is..." and what follows is a lilting melody that I cannot yet imitate. She is quite the taskmaster when I am wrong. "Try again!" A real language teacher.
In exchange for this language instruction, I get to provide Li and the others with tidbits of American idiom. Black and white, cut and dried. A close shave. A close call. Out and about. That's cool(they know that one mostly). When they make the ever-present question word order mistake I am able to correct them. "For what are you going to school, Jon?" For the most part, these folks speak really good English and they are the people that regretably I was not able to find when I was actually IN China. My one big regret was not passing through that language barrier that stood between me and every young boy, shopkeeper, pretty girl and barkeep in the country. In a city of twenty million people, most people simply don't speak my language. They are there, but that chance encounter on the street will not bring them out. I had my tour guides, who were all great windows into the language and culture of Zhāng Guó but the amateur anthropologist in me longed for authentic contact with someone other than a street vendor who sees foreigners all day. I remember Yuri outside of Red Square all those years ago trading Yava cigarettes for Marb lights. Where is my Chinese Yuri? I couldn't find him in Beijing, Xi'an, Guilin nor Shanghai.
The Internet has allowed me to make that connection with real Chinese people that I did not get to in China, while at the same time getting my feet wet in this whole Mandarin thing. It is amazing to me that I can be on the streets of New Haven, communicating in real-time with a person quite literally half the world away, trying to answer "chī le ma" with the proper exhale of air to strike that tricky tricky initial plus "i" sound.
As I talked to Li, Lanzi and Xin (Lee, Lanzhe, and Sin) the whole way to Vermont on Saturday morning - until Lanzi finally went to bed around the time we pulled into Bernard's driveway at 12:30pm - Matt slowly coined the phrase for what I was doing. "Stop Chinesing!"
No, I will not stop Chinesing, MD.
Thus, Facebook exists in China - it is just based in Beijing and the security services have access to everything on it. More about that issue in a later blog post. After all, this site is banned in China.
Anyway, I signed up for QQ and simply posted in a forum that I was interested in learning Chinese in exchange for helping people with English. You see, I have decided to learn Mandarin. Why? Because frankly I stink at languages. I took Spanish for 4 years plus extra course work in college. Russia for one semester. I was a horrible language student. As I have gotten older, and been forced to teach a unit on linguistics I have become fascinated by language and how it functions. I feel like a moron due to my monolingualism. I always have. My Russian professor spoke 12 languages. What? My cousin Carl? Italian, French, Spanish and Arabic. All fluently. Me? I'm able to pronounce stuff on the menu in a Mexican place and say "Have intercourse with your mother", "Good morning" and "I love you" in Russian. Plus, speak with a damn fine Russian accent if I don't say so myself.
So, back to Mandarin. It is the hardest language to learn apparently. So if I can conquer my personal phobia about math, can't I also conquer my belief that I can't learn another language? I have signed up for a website called yoyo Chinese - actually I am trying it for free at the moment - and am learning those basic Chinese phrases that I didn't learn before I left. Conversational stuff. Things linguists call "Basic Interpersonal Communication" I'm sometimes able to talk like an idiot in Chinese.
To most white people, Chinese sounds like absolute gibberish. I would explain this as an element of ethnocentrism to my Anthro students and it really is. Chinese sounds so damn funny to you because you never learned to speak particular sounds. The reason English sounds so freakin stupid and silly to Chinese people who don't speak it is because they also don't believe some of the sounds you make- like "v" - belong in normal conversation. In addition, Chinese is a tonal language so as I have learned, Chinese people are basically always singing. My new Chinese virtual and real friends sing quite a bit when they are not speaking Chinese. Might be why Karaoke is so big over there...
So, back to QQ. I was inundated with requests from people to get help with English in exchange for helping me pronounce things like an 18 month old child. Actually, 18 month old children don't need the kind of help I need unless they have a major speech impediment.
I have met Lanzi, a 30 year old accountant turned clothing saleswoman from Guangzhou - Canton - in southern China. She lives with her uncle's family. She is the youngest of four children from the country-side and works in the largest mall in China. Her father is sick and just moved back to his hometown and out of his oldest son's home.
Xin is a 21 year old "boy" who has a real interest in history. I had to explain the boy was the wrong word in English. Xin is a typical brash young Chinese man who loves to tease loudly and at times inappropriately but at the same time is very bright and able to look up things online with amazing speed. "Jon, can you tell me what is similar between Marcus Aurelius and Marcus Cicero?" I think he was actually testing me. They were both Roman politicians and accomplished stoic philosophers in their own rights. Xin is quickly able to give me any Chinese phrase I want, but getting him to explain the tones takes some time. He is an interesting kid who wants to talk about American sports, and politics and is quick to inquire about what I am doing. Nǐ zài zòu shén ma. That's a question in Chinese. Ma at the end. That's how I know.
"Wendy" speaks no English but her friend Ling does. Wendy and her friend are government employees in Wuhan in central China. They video chatted me while I got ready for bed around 11pm the other night, which is of course, lunch time in a Chinese government owned office. Wendy has to translate everything I say using software but Ling and I can chat reasonably well via text. Yao is a college student who can type English very well but cannot understand spoken English well. I am able to send her snipits of English voice messages using QQ's mobile application. I basically try out my Chinese on these three.
Then there is Elizabeth, or Li. Li teaches pre-school English in Yangkuo, which is reasonably near Beijing. I get the sense that Li comes from a well-off family. She does not drive a car but takes the metro into town to teach several classes of kids every day. She was very quick to send me a 30 min video clip of her pre-schoolers saying "Hello!" and singing in English. She has been my language instructor. Every evening at around 7 or 8pm I get a buzz on my phone as Li wakes up and says hi. I should note around that time I typically get about four or five such buzzes from my new virtual friends. Then I'm usually buzzing them first thing in the morning as they get ready to go out for the night, or are just winding down from a full day at work. . She quickly introduced me to a feature of QQ mobile that allows us to send walkie-talkie style messages back and forth. I got Nǐ zài zòu shén ma from her on Saturday and I am able to ask her right away, via walkie-talkie if my pronunciation of new stuff I have learned from Yang Yang on YoYo Chinese is working out okay. I can count to ten to her and she will reply with a high pitched squeal of approval a-la a pre-school teacher, "That is GREAT!" More importantly, when I try to say "Shuō Cáo Cāo Cáo Cāo Dào" for the thirteenth time she goes, "Good try, you are getting there but it is..." and what follows is a lilting melody that I cannot yet imitate. She is quite the taskmaster when I am wrong. "Try again!" A real language teacher.
In exchange for this language instruction, I get to provide Li and the others with tidbits of American idiom. Black and white, cut and dried. A close shave. A close call. Out and about. That's cool(they know that one mostly). When they make the ever-present question word order mistake I am able to correct them. "For what are you going to school, Jon?" For the most part, these folks speak really good English and they are the people that regretably I was not able to find when I was actually IN China. My one big regret was not passing through that language barrier that stood between me and every young boy, shopkeeper, pretty girl and barkeep in the country. In a city of twenty million people, most people simply don't speak my language. They are there, but that chance encounter on the street will not bring them out. I had my tour guides, who were all great windows into the language and culture of Zhāng Guó but the amateur anthropologist in me longed for authentic contact with someone other than a street vendor who sees foreigners all day. I remember Yuri outside of Red Square all those years ago trading Yava cigarettes for Marb lights. Where is my Chinese Yuri? I couldn't find him in Beijing, Xi'an, Guilin nor Shanghai.
The Internet has allowed me to make that connection with real Chinese people that I did not get to in China, while at the same time getting my feet wet in this whole Mandarin thing. It is amazing to me that I can be on the streets of New Haven, communicating in real-time with a person quite literally half the world away, trying to answer "chī le ma" with the proper exhale of air to strike that tricky tricky initial plus "i" sound.
As I talked to Li, Lanzi and Xin (Lee, Lanzhe, and Sin) the whole way to Vermont on Saturday morning - until Lanzi finally went to bed around the time we pulled into Bernard's driveway at 12:30pm - Matt slowly coined the phrase for what I was doing. "Stop Chinesing!"
No, I will not stop Chinesing, MD.
Back from China. Wish I was still there. August 12th, 2012.
I have returned from the east. My plane ride back was surprisingly not as bad as the flight out. I THINK I slept but I'm not sure. Popped some NyQuil about 3 hours in and spent about 6 hours in this very weird state between sleep and consciousness where I kept thinking my beautiful Korean stewardesses were bringing me food and I kept waking up and the guy across the aisle to me was apparently sleeping on his iPhone and it kept making this go0d-awful beeping noise every time we hit a bump.
Thankfully, before I knew it the trip was down to 4 hours. I arrived at JFK only thirty minutes or so late and then was greeted with what can only be described as reverse culture shock. A rude customs official - "you forgot your passport number, buddy." Luggage that took an hour to off-load from the plane - the first piece was off an hour before my bag came down and about half the flight was still standing around looking worried when I left. As I exited the baggage claim area, there was a TSA employee - typical New Yorker - joking loudly with his coworker while collecting what I assumed were baggage claim tickets. When I presented him with my claim ticket for his approval he said, rudely - "I need this, pal." and indicated the customs slip I had already shoved mindlessly into by backpack. As I handed it to him, he berated the Korean national behind me. "I need THIS! Can't you see everyone is handing me this slip? What the hell is wrong with you!?" I came SO close to saying something to him. I was so offended. Welcome to the United States.
Being alone for two weeks was refreshing in a weird way. I had really only one person to talk to - my tour guide - and now that I am back, within a few hours I am honestly missing the enforced solitude. Just getting breakfast this morning I realized how simply different life is here than in China. The woman at Brugger's was so brash. I miss the respectful nods, the attention to one's job, the subtle and counter-intuitive respect for privacy that seems to underlie life in the east. It is amazing that a country with so many people jostling against one another for space can at the same time offer such a clear barrier between the public and the private. I can't understand Chinese, so I may be wrong in my underlying assumptions but I don't think I am. A security guard in a Chinese airport doesn't loudly speak to his co-workers while checking papers. An attendant in a dining establishment hands you your food quietly, without bitching to her co-workers about what time she got to work.
I also face the inevitable, tremendous to-do list that I don't want to do. Gifts to organize, clothes to wash, bills to pay, papers to write, people to see. As much as I missed home those last few days, I want to go back.
As to pictures, I shall post everything worth posting on Facebook. As to the blog - several people have commented that I should write one regularly. Thank you for your kind words. Honestly, I don't know what on earth I would write about that would not offend. For now, this is probably the final post on this blog. Thank you for reading.
Zaijian!
Thankfully, before I knew it the trip was down to 4 hours. I arrived at JFK only thirty minutes or so late and then was greeted with what can only be described as reverse culture shock. A rude customs official - "you forgot your passport number, buddy." Luggage that took an hour to off-load from the plane - the first piece was off an hour before my bag came down and about half the flight was still standing around looking worried when I left. As I exited the baggage claim area, there was a TSA employee - typical New Yorker - joking loudly with his coworker while collecting what I assumed were baggage claim tickets. When I presented him with my claim ticket for his approval he said, rudely - "I need this, pal." and indicated the customs slip I had already shoved mindlessly into by backpack. As I handed it to him, he berated the Korean national behind me. "I need THIS! Can't you see everyone is handing me this slip? What the hell is wrong with you!?" I came SO close to saying something to him. I was so offended. Welcome to the United States.
Being alone for two weeks was refreshing in a weird way. I had really only one person to talk to - my tour guide - and now that I am back, within a few hours I am honestly missing the enforced solitude. Just getting breakfast this morning I realized how simply different life is here than in China. The woman at Brugger's was so brash. I miss the respectful nods, the attention to one's job, the subtle and counter-intuitive respect for privacy that seems to underlie life in the east. It is amazing that a country with so many people jostling against one another for space can at the same time offer such a clear barrier between the public and the private. I can't understand Chinese, so I may be wrong in my underlying assumptions but I don't think I am. A security guard in a Chinese airport doesn't loudly speak to his co-workers while checking papers. An attendant in a dining establishment hands you your food quietly, without bitching to her co-workers about what time she got to work.
I also face the inevitable, tremendous to-do list that I don't want to do. Gifts to organize, clothes to wash, bills to pay, papers to write, people to see. As much as I missed home those last few days, I want to go back.
As to pictures, I shall post everything worth posting on Facebook. As to the blog - several people have commented that I should write one regularly. Thank you for your kind words. Honestly, I don't know what on earth I would write about that would not offend. For now, this is probably the final post on this blog. Thank you for reading.
Zaijian!
The last real set of picture from China. Tear.
Ultimate Irony. Last day in Shanghai and last day in China. August 10th, 2012.
Today on the list of places to visit was "The French Concession." This is the part of Shanghai that the French controlled during the colonial period. It also happens to be where Mao and his cohorts essentially founded the Chinese Communist Party in the 1920's. I went to the museum where this occurred. I didn't realize that it was part of my itinerary but I think it is something that they sort of feel you have to see. I'm sure this pisses off a fair number of tourists. "How dare you sully my trip with these Communist ideas!" but I love good red propaganda so I was actually excited.
I think the Chinese people need to stop using the word communist. In the US we talk a lot about freedom and equality and justice and all these high-minded ideals but honestly, we do TRY to live up to them. Everyone in the US is equal under the law and we have due process. While in fact, we are a nation with plenty of bigots and plenty of injustice, these are the ideals that we have - even if we do happen to fall short of them once and awhile. We value freedom and opportunity. While many of you know, I'm much more of a socialist that a capitalist I do accept that I live in a capitalist and individualistic society. I understand intrinsically that in America, we value hard day's work for a good day's pay. If someone lives in a mansion because they are successful we embrace and celebrate this. We are NOT a socialist nor communist country and we don't say we are. Everyone is equal before the law, but we know that some are more equal than others. I don't like it but I accept it.
The Chinese still talk like they live in a socialist country but in point of fact, they don't. Mao's museum? It is right next to one of the trendiest expat communities in Shanghai. We left the museum that talked about equality and the struggle for the rights of the proletariat against the bourgeoisie and stepped into a posh avenue full of trendy western cafes. Please understand: I am not saying that the Chinese are lying or being disingenuous. I'm not being critical. I just don't believe a nation can lie to itself and be healthy. If they are teaching children Mao's Little Red Book in school then sending them out into a world that doesn't operate under those principles anymore than you lose the faith of everyone in the society. Everyone. In America, we believe in the dream even if I don't think that dream is totally just. The Chinese can't pretend to be communists.
I told John, my Guilin guide, that people in China seem to be embracing religion more than I expected. He agreed. He said, "In China, we no longer have faith in our leaders so we must have faith in something." I thought that was a very honest and frank assessment. The leaders of China, if they wish to embrace capitalism and grow wealth in that way, cannot fall back on slogans about the struggling proletariat. They have to move forward. It is amazing how the same men who championed socialist progress not so long ago can't realize that by pretending to be socialists they are losing the faith of an entire nation of 1.3 billion people. Such a betrayal of one's values will not go unnoticed by people. China risks producing generations of men and women who will have no faith in themselves or their country if it cannot accept its own created reality. I don't love that a nation this big is embracing what I believe to be a fundamentally flawed social and economic model - yes, that's right, I think the way we do things is unjust but thankfully you also believe in freedom of expression so you can't shoot me for my beliefs - but if they are going to embrace it, I certainly can't stop them. But you might want to place a big, flashing "Irony" sign- a la Monty Python - next to the "Exhibition of Historical Relics Showing the Founding of the Communist Party in China" if you are going to put a Starbucks on the next block.
I think the Chinese people need to stop using the word communist. In the US we talk a lot about freedom and equality and justice and all these high-minded ideals but honestly, we do TRY to live up to them. Everyone in the US is equal under the law and we have due process. While in fact, we are a nation with plenty of bigots and plenty of injustice, these are the ideals that we have - even if we do happen to fall short of them once and awhile. We value freedom and opportunity. While many of you know, I'm much more of a socialist that a capitalist I do accept that I live in a capitalist and individualistic society. I understand intrinsically that in America, we value hard day's work for a good day's pay. If someone lives in a mansion because they are successful we embrace and celebrate this. We are NOT a socialist nor communist country and we don't say we are. Everyone is equal before the law, but we know that some are more equal than others. I don't like it but I accept it.
The Chinese still talk like they live in a socialist country but in point of fact, they don't. Mao's museum? It is right next to one of the trendiest expat communities in Shanghai. We left the museum that talked about equality and the struggle for the rights of the proletariat against the bourgeoisie and stepped into a posh avenue full of trendy western cafes. Please understand: I am not saying that the Chinese are lying or being disingenuous. I'm not being critical. I just don't believe a nation can lie to itself and be healthy. If they are teaching children Mao's Little Red Book in school then sending them out into a world that doesn't operate under those principles anymore than you lose the faith of everyone in the society. Everyone. In America, we believe in the dream even if I don't think that dream is totally just. The Chinese can't pretend to be communists.
I told John, my Guilin guide, that people in China seem to be embracing religion more than I expected. He agreed. He said, "In China, we no longer have faith in our leaders so we must have faith in something." I thought that was a very honest and frank assessment. The leaders of China, if they wish to embrace capitalism and grow wealth in that way, cannot fall back on slogans about the struggling proletariat. They have to move forward. It is amazing how the same men who championed socialist progress not so long ago can't realize that by pretending to be socialists they are losing the faith of an entire nation of 1.3 billion people. Such a betrayal of one's values will not go unnoticed by people. China risks producing generations of men and women who will have no faith in themselves or their country if it cannot accept its own created reality. I don't love that a nation this big is embracing what I believe to be a fundamentally flawed social and economic model - yes, that's right, I think the way we do things is unjust but thankfully you also believe in freedom of expression so you can't shoot me for my beliefs - but if they are going to embrace it, I certainly can't stop them. But you might want to place a big, flashing "Irony" sign- a la Monty Python - next to the "Exhibition of Historical Relics Showing the Founding of the Communist Party in China" if you are going to put a Starbucks on the next block.
And now for something completely different.....
Some pictures of The Bund and the East side of the river at night. How many times do you have to say "No" to a man who asks you "Massage? Pretty Girl? Sex?" About five times I've learned. That means I said "No" about 100 times on my walk to the Bund and back down Nanjing road.
Shanghai Surprise! Sorry, can't help it.
I suppose I'm actually not surprised at all but Shanghai is basically New York City on steroids. Coming from Guilin, I am now typing this entry sitting at a desk in a luxurious 20th for executive sweet in the Bund Hotel. For those of you who don't know the Bund is the heart of old Shanghai - the Shanghai the British basically founded as a trading port in the 19th century. While my tour guide, Portia, - I don't have the heart to tell her the connotation of that name - wants to assure me that Shanghai has a 1000 year history, bottom line is this is a new city. The famous Shanghai skyline sits across the river and it only 20 years old. This is a place where east meets west. I am not being stared at as I have been in virtually every other place in China.
I arrived after a bumpy landing at Shanghai's smaller airport around 3pm and took a quick tour of the Bund and a nice traditional Shanghai dinner of Pork in Brown Sauce - Mao's favorite dish and a tasty eggplant dish. No offense to my mother and grandmother but Italians have nothing on the Chinese when it comes to eggplant.
I plan to do some exploring on the Nanjing Road in a bit - sort of Shanghai's 5th Avenue. You actually may know this area of Shanghai if you have seen "Empire of the Sun" - Jamie and his family stay in one of the hotels here in the Bund when the Japanese attack. Interestingly enough, there are a lot of Japanese businessmen here in Shanghai. As Portia said - Shanghainese and the Japanese have a long and "complicated" history. I thought that was very polite. She also said the same thing about the British. A nice way of saying - the British and then the Japanese have royally F*cked us over but now we still do business with them.
I'm sad that I will not have a third day in Shanghai, in fact other than tonight I really only have one full day tomorrow to see the city. More reason to return.
I arrived after a bumpy landing at Shanghai's smaller airport around 3pm and took a quick tour of the Bund and a nice traditional Shanghai dinner of Pork in Brown Sauce - Mao's favorite dish and a tasty eggplant dish. No offense to my mother and grandmother but Italians have nothing on the Chinese when it comes to eggplant.
I plan to do some exploring on the Nanjing Road in a bit - sort of Shanghai's 5th Avenue. You actually may know this area of Shanghai if you have seen "Empire of the Sun" - Jamie and his family stay in one of the hotels here in the Bund when the Japanese attack. Interestingly enough, there are a lot of Japanese businessmen here in Shanghai. As Portia said - Shanghainese and the Japanese have a long and "complicated" history. I thought that was very polite. She also said the same thing about the British. A nice way of saying - the British and then the Japanese have royally F*cked us over but now we still do business with them.
I'm sad that I will not have a third day in Shanghai, in fact other than tonight I really only have one full day tomorrow to see the city. More reason to return.
Final (hopefully) thoughts on Guilin
While the scenery here is really beautiful, I have to admit that this has been the least enjoyable part of my journey with the exception of the "Inspiration" show which was the highlight for sure.
Guilin is, as John has pointed out over and over again, a tourist city. Although he is Han Chinese, he was born here and so he sees Guilin as a place to relax. For me, it is anything but relaxing. Busy, bustling and full of merchants trying to sell you everything under the sun is not an American's idea of a relaxing getaway. Give me Lake Placid. This is like Cape Cod in July. It seems the Guilin is a holiday destination for the Chinese.
The city is a bit too touristy. They light up the city moat at night with gaudy colored lights, they have all these bridges from all over the world..it's touristy. I don't like touristy.
Despite the touristy atmosphere I had a nice time on the local market street here - which opens up around 7:30pm and goes until well into the night. I'm just starting to get used to haggling for everything. I bought a picture book of Guilin this afternoon for 30 RMB and last night a guy tried to sell me one for 95. I wound up getting two for 35 each. Guy drove a hard bargain. It's fun, and if I had more room in my luggage and more desire for trinkets I would be doing a lot more.
One interesting thing - in every city there is an "opportunity" to visit a factory of some kind that produces local wares. In Beijing - Cloistine (spelled wrong again), in Xi'an it was jade. In Xi'an there was no pretense at explaining the process. The lady showed me some jade rocks and then brought me to a showroom full of stuff that was beautiful but so so pricey. Here, it is pearls. Ladies, if you need pearls it is well worth flying to Guilin to get them right from the oyster's..um...gut?
The Typhoon looks like it has blown over Shanghai for the most part. I'm really hoping that my noon flight takes off and lands successfully in Shanghai. I will only have this afternoon and evening and tomorrow to explore the city so I'm going to have to shave some stuff off of the itinerary. I'm getting that feeling I always get at the end of a trip when you know home is right around the corner - you want to be home but you don't want to leave.
Guilin is, as John has pointed out over and over again, a tourist city. Although he is Han Chinese, he was born here and so he sees Guilin as a place to relax. For me, it is anything but relaxing. Busy, bustling and full of merchants trying to sell you everything under the sun is not an American's idea of a relaxing getaway. Give me Lake Placid. This is like Cape Cod in July. It seems the Guilin is a holiday destination for the Chinese.
The city is a bit too touristy. They light up the city moat at night with gaudy colored lights, they have all these bridges from all over the world..it's touristy. I don't like touristy.
Despite the touristy atmosphere I had a nice time on the local market street here - which opens up around 7:30pm and goes until well into the night. I'm just starting to get used to haggling for everything. I bought a picture book of Guilin this afternoon for 30 RMB and last night a guy tried to sell me one for 95. I wound up getting two for 35 each. Guy drove a hard bargain. It's fun, and if I had more room in my luggage and more desire for trinkets I would be doing a lot more.
One interesting thing - in every city there is an "opportunity" to visit a factory of some kind that produces local wares. In Beijing - Cloistine (spelled wrong again), in Xi'an it was jade. In Xi'an there was no pretense at explaining the process. The lady showed me some jade rocks and then brought me to a showroom full of stuff that was beautiful but so so pricey. Here, it is pearls. Ladies, if you need pearls it is well worth flying to Guilin to get them right from the oyster's..um...gut?
The Typhoon looks like it has blown over Shanghai for the most part. I'm really hoping that my noon flight takes off and lands successfully in Shanghai. I will only have this afternoon and evening and tomorrow to explore the city so I'm going to have to shave some stuff off of the itinerary. I'm getting that feeling I always get at the end of a trip when you know home is right around the corner - you want to be home but you don't want to leave.
Stuck in Guilin for another night - almost every flight to Shanghai cancelled due to rain and high winds. Alas, I lose out on a day in Shanghai - flight out is at noon tmrw. Oh well. Below are some photos of Yangshuo and Guilin.
If these pictures wow you, just remember they do not do this show justice at all!
Moved to Tears? At a Musical Performance? "Impressions" on the Lijiang.
I have been to three performances included as optional parts of my tour package. In Beijing, it was the Kung Fu show. Whatever. I watched my watch mostly. In Xi'an, dinner theater. It was good, entertaining. I didn't look at my watch that much.
Tonight, John convinced me to fork over 300 RMB for "Impressions." I got a lot of sun today, so I was dead tired by 5pm after a quick walk down West Street here in Yangshuo. I set the alarm for 7 and took a nap. When I woke up I really didn't want to go to this show. I met John in the lobby and stumbled down the street to our waiting van.
John described the show to me and I um hummed and nodded all the way to the parking lot. There was a huge crowd making their way towards the theater. Before entering I knew a few things: This was an outdoor theater on the water, women would pop up out of the water and surprise the audience, it was featured at the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in Beijing.
When I finally entered the outdoor theater I was shocked. Before me was a totally dark lagoon framed by the tall limestone peaks you can see in the photos below. Intrigued, I anxiously awaited the start of the show.
I cannot really describe what I saw tonight. Even if you saw the opening ceremonies of the Olympics - which I didn't - it won't do this justice. Over 600 native people from 4 of the local minority populations participate in this pageant. Little girls, young women, fisherman on their bamboo rafts - they are all choreographed in this very moving performance that really just highlights their lives. They paddle across the huge stage, pulling themselves with red sheets lying just below the surface of the water. The girls sing and dance in front. Suddenly, from the darkness 100 other men on rafts light torches and paddle back across the lagoon. Flood lights alternatively light up the landscape behind the performers - casting weird and ghostly colors on the limestone peaks behind them.
I really don't like musicals. I would tend to like them less when I cannot understand a word anyone is saying. I cried several times, just based, I think on the scope of the performance. I bought the DVD, I just hope it will play on a western DVD player. It probably won't. Even so, it can't possibly do what I saw justice. Nothing can. Come to Yangshuo and see for yourself.
Tonight, John convinced me to fork over 300 RMB for "Impressions." I got a lot of sun today, so I was dead tired by 5pm after a quick walk down West Street here in Yangshuo. I set the alarm for 7 and took a nap. When I woke up I really didn't want to go to this show. I met John in the lobby and stumbled down the street to our waiting van.
John described the show to me and I um hummed and nodded all the way to the parking lot. There was a huge crowd making their way towards the theater. Before entering I knew a few things: This was an outdoor theater on the water, women would pop up out of the water and surprise the audience, it was featured at the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in Beijing.
When I finally entered the outdoor theater I was shocked. Before me was a totally dark lagoon framed by the tall limestone peaks you can see in the photos below. Intrigued, I anxiously awaited the start of the show.
I cannot really describe what I saw tonight. Even if you saw the opening ceremonies of the Olympics - which I didn't - it won't do this justice. Over 600 native people from 4 of the local minority populations participate in this pageant. Little girls, young women, fisherman on their bamboo rafts - they are all choreographed in this very moving performance that really just highlights their lives. They paddle across the huge stage, pulling themselves with red sheets lying just below the surface of the water. The girls sing and dance in front. Suddenly, from the darkness 100 other men on rafts light torches and paddle back across the lagoon. Flood lights alternatively light up the landscape behind the performers - casting weird and ghostly colors on the limestone peaks behind them.
I really don't like musicals. I would tend to like them less when I cannot understand a word anyone is saying. I cried several times, just based, I think on the scope of the performance. I bought the DVD, I just hope it will play on a western DVD player. It probably won't. Even so, it can't possibly do what I saw justice. Nothing can. Come to Yangshuo and see for yourself.
Banned in China! Yangshuo County, August 7th 2012
So I have tried a few times so far to access my blog from China and while it was working fine when I arrived, it apparently has been blocked here. That's sort of funny since I don't think I have been critical of the government in any way. Regardless, I think its pretty cool.
Today I cruised down the Lijiang (Li River) which I mistakenly called the Yi river below. I'm close the Vietnam boarder so as you can see in the few representative pictures below, it has that feel. About the only thing I don't like about this part of my journey is the fact that this really is a tourist trap. The market street outside is full of pickpockets and counterfeit bills. I had about four hours on the river boat today and chatted with some nice folks from Spain as well as a British family. Interestingly, the Brits had come to roughly the same conclusion that I have come to about China but with a bit more pessimism - how typically British.
While a nice guy, my tour guide is a a bit alarmist. I'm sure he is looking out for my safety but he has got me afraid to walk out of my hotel here. I have about 5 hours until a river performance then I'll drive back to Guilin tomorrow for some hiking through limestone caves, a visit to a pearl factory and finally my flight to Shanghai. I will try to post again from either the airport or the hotel in Shanghai tomorrow night.
Today I cruised down the Lijiang (Li River) which I mistakenly called the Yi river below. I'm close the Vietnam boarder so as you can see in the few representative pictures below, it has that feel. About the only thing I don't like about this part of my journey is the fact that this really is a tourist trap. The market street outside is full of pickpockets and counterfeit bills. I had about four hours on the river boat today and chatted with some nice folks from Spain as well as a British family. Interestingly, the Brits had come to roughly the same conclusion that I have come to about China but with a bit more pessimism - how typically British.
While a nice guy, my tour guide is a a bit alarmist. I'm sure he is looking out for my safety but he has got me afraid to walk out of my hotel here. I have about 5 hours until a river performance then I'll drive back to Guilin tomorrow for some hiking through limestone caves, a visit to a pearl factory and finally my flight to Shanghai. I will try to post again from either the airport or the hotel in Shanghai tomorrow night.
Arrived in Guilin - southern China, near Vietnam. Tour guide seems nice, if a bit racist. He is Han Chinese and spent a long time talking about how the local people eat dogs and drink snake wine. Apparently dog may be on the menu tmrw when I head up the Yi river to a village and spend the night at a hotel. I was also warned by John that Guilin, a city of 800,000 is a real tourist trap. I may not be able to update until I get to Shanghai on Thursday - err Wednesday for you people on the other side of the world. Slackers. Meanwhile enjoy some of my last pictures from Xi'an.
Some pictures below of the Terracotta Army. I leave Xi'an and my new friend Lulu tonight for Guilin and the subtropical south of China. On the list for this afternoon - Muslim Quarter, Mosque and the Ming-Era city walls of Xi'an.
"Religion is a Poison" Xi'an, August 6th 2012.
Yesterday I got to visit my first Buddhist temple – the Big Goose Temple in downtown Xi’an. According to legend, this is where the first Chinese monk brought the teachings of Buddha to China and stored them. While this is a very active tourist site, it is also a functioning temple. People were buying incense and offering up to the Buddha as you can see in the pictures. The smoke from the incense is believed to carry their prayers to heaven.
Chinese religion is very complex – the term I use to describe it is eclectic – it draws upon many different traditions: ancestor worship, a belief in a cosmic heaven that is a mirror for earth – Tian, Taoism, and finally Buddhism. All of these beliefs are mixed together into a big stew and you get religion in China. For me, a former Buddhist who still admires and tries to follow Buddhist principles, a temple and incense are contrary to my understanding of Buddhist spiritual practice. Buddhism is a Tao – a “way” or “path” to enlightenment. The Buddha is a guide not a god. The Chinese worship him as a god. I’m not being critical mind you. I briefly thought I should buy some incense and prostrate myself but then decided that indeed this is not my concept of Buddhism.
Lulu told me there was a Lama Temple near my hotel and sure enough out of my window you can see this large Ming temple complex. This is NOT a tourist attraction but a living, breathing temple. As I watched yesterday and this morning, I could see many people and many incense fires burning. I wanted to go but I am loathe to walk into functioning religious sites as a tourist. I feel I am intruding upon people’s private time with their gods. With two hours to kill this morning, though, I decided to risk it.
Mao famously told the Dalai Lama that “religion is a poison”, good Marxist that he was. Well, where Lenin and Stalin succeeded in stamping out religion in the Soviet Union for 70 years, the party has failed in China. This temple was full of Chinese people from all walks of life. The Temple was bustling at 6:30am when I woke up and by 9:30 when I arrived it was packed with people. If religion is indeed a poison, as Mao believed, then the Chinese have much more to worry about then pollution. I am sure that temples like the one behind my hotel were closed during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960’s but today they are clearly thriving.
Given the attitude that both my guides have expressed – that life in China is hard – it is no surprise that the Chinese are turning back to their religious roots and worshipping in such large numbers. This is a country that has a huge disparity in income. Yesterday we pulled up behind a Bentley on the way back to a hotel. When I told Lulu that a cheap Bentley cost $300,000 US she asked me for my gun so she could shoot the driver – we had joked about Americans and our love of firearms earlier. With such a difference in wealth between some people and others it must be very hard to explain away as anything else than luck. Some people make it big and live in a luxury high rise in Beijing while others toil away on a farm. Religion provides an easy answer in rough times as it always has.
I do not want to characterize Chinese religious belief but based upon my own understanding and observations here in China and from my Chinese friends over the years, it is what many would call superstition. I get very cross when people refer to religious beliefs as superstition because by their definition all religious belief is superstition. However lot of Chinese ritual revolves around preventing ill luck and bringing good luck. In that sense it is much more polytheistic than what Christians and Muslims are used to. You light the incense, you ask for good luck and you avoid doing things like stepping on door jambs or having a license plate with the number four in it – four in Chinese sounds like the word for death.
At the Terracotta gift shop yesterday, I was told by the pushy salesperson that I must buy two warriors because it is good feng shui and that it would be bad luck to not buy the archer warrior. There are charms everywhere in China to ward off evil luck. Don’t believe for a second that such beliefs are primitive or less evolved than yours. If anything, I find such anachronistic rituals comforting. Religion after all is simply a set of rituals based upon myth that brings about changes in state for people or for the natural world. The Eucharist is not particularly far removed from a feng shui knot. Maybe there is something to these beliefs. Shortly after I refused to buy the lucky archer to go with my general figure, my wallet vanished. Perhaps I angered the gods of old Qin Shihuang when I refused his lucky archer.
See some pictures below of Chinese religion and Chinese income disparity
Chinese religion is very complex – the term I use to describe it is eclectic – it draws upon many different traditions: ancestor worship, a belief in a cosmic heaven that is a mirror for earth – Tian, Taoism, and finally Buddhism. All of these beliefs are mixed together into a big stew and you get religion in China. For me, a former Buddhist who still admires and tries to follow Buddhist principles, a temple and incense are contrary to my understanding of Buddhist spiritual practice. Buddhism is a Tao – a “way” or “path” to enlightenment. The Buddha is a guide not a god. The Chinese worship him as a god. I’m not being critical mind you. I briefly thought I should buy some incense and prostrate myself but then decided that indeed this is not my concept of Buddhism.
Lulu told me there was a Lama Temple near my hotel and sure enough out of my window you can see this large Ming temple complex. This is NOT a tourist attraction but a living, breathing temple. As I watched yesterday and this morning, I could see many people and many incense fires burning. I wanted to go but I am loathe to walk into functioning religious sites as a tourist. I feel I am intruding upon people’s private time with their gods. With two hours to kill this morning, though, I decided to risk it.
Mao famously told the Dalai Lama that “religion is a poison”, good Marxist that he was. Well, where Lenin and Stalin succeeded in stamping out religion in the Soviet Union for 70 years, the party has failed in China. This temple was full of Chinese people from all walks of life. The Temple was bustling at 6:30am when I woke up and by 9:30 when I arrived it was packed with people. If religion is indeed a poison, as Mao believed, then the Chinese have much more to worry about then pollution. I am sure that temples like the one behind my hotel were closed during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960’s but today they are clearly thriving.
Given the attitude that both my guides have expressed – that life in China is hard – it is no surprise that the Chinese are turning back to their religious roots and worshipping in such large numbers. This is a country that has a huge disparity in income. Yesterday we pulled up behind a Bentley on the way back to a hotel. When I told Lulu that a cheap Bentley cost $300,000 US she asked me for my gun so she could shoot the driver – we had joked about Americans and our love of firearms earlier. With such a difference in wealth between some people and others it must be very hard to explain away as anything else than luck. Some people make it big and live in a luxury high rise in Beijing while others toil away on a farm. Religion provides an easy answer in rough times as it always has.
I do not want to characterize Chinese religious belief but based upon my own understanding and observations here in China and from my Chinese friends over the years, it is what many would call superstition. I get very cross when people refer to religious beliefs as superstition because by their definition all religious belief is superstition. However lot of Chinese ritual revolves around preventing ill luck and bringing good luck. In that sense it is much more polytheistic than what Christians and Muslims are used to. You light the incense, you ask for good luck and you avoid doing things like stepping on door jambs or having a license plate with the number four in it – four in Chinese sounds like the word for death.
At the Terracotta gift shop yesterday, I was told by the pushy salesperson that I must buy two warriors because it is good feng shui and that it would be bad luck to not buy the archer warrior. There are charms everywhere in China to ward off evil luck. Don’t believe for a second that such beliefs are primitive or less evolved than yours. If anything, I find such anachronistic rituals comforting. Religion after all is simply a set of rituals based upon myth that brings about changes in state for people or for the natural world. The Eucharist is not particularly far removed from a feng shui knot. Maybe there is something to these beliefs. Shortly after I refused to buy the lucky archer to go with my general figure, my wallet vanished. Perhaps I angered the gods of old Qin Shihuang when I refused his lucky archer.
See some pictures below of Chinese religion and Chinese income disparity
Great Tour Guides
So despite my argument with the hotel staff this morning (see post below), I have to give major kudos to my tour guides on this trip so far. Sunny was engaging, bright and interested in real cultural exchange.
My tour guide in Xi’an is a younger girl named Lulu who is a riot, in addition to being very concerned about my well-being. I really came to China less to sight-see than to meet and interact with Chinese people. Who better to interact with than my tour guides? The language barrier makes it challenging to find people who can carry on a conversation – beyond “hello” most Chinese people cannot speak English.
Today, my problem with currency was further exacerbated by the fact that somehow, somewhere, I lost my “dummy wallet.” Thankfully all my real cash and credit card is securely in my money belt which never leaves my waist or my hand but either I put my wallet down in the Terracotta Warrior gift shop or my wallet was nicked in the underground passageway by a very adept pickpocket.
When we got back to the hotel and I realized what had happened, Lulu was so quick to call the Terracotta Warrior museum and even call the police there locally to see if anyone had turned it in. She felt like it was her fault I had lost my wallet. I was thankful since I had spent so much money on gifts and souvenirs today that the wallet was pretty empty – the wallet was bought for five bucks at Wal-Mart. Thankfully I spent a lot of money today so I only had maybe 400RMB in there - about 70 bucks - but I lost my last tour guide’s business card. Not the end of the world - I have her cell number. Did I mention everyone in China seems to have an iPhone or an iPad?
Lulu is twenty-five years old. She is part of what the government here calls, “The New China” She has big dreams to study in America one day and teach Chinese. She comes from a village 45km outside of Xi’an and studied English and Tourism for 3 years here in Xi’an but did not get her four-year degree. Her English could be better. Sunny’s English was very accomplished although I was able to teach her some idiomatic phrases she didn’t know. Lulu probably understands about 80% of what I say. Today she learned three new words from me, eclectic, digestion and bubbles.
Today on the drive to the Terracotta Army we talked about where China is today and where it is going. Xi’an is a bustling city of 9 million people. Sunny described it as a small city. 9 million people here is a SMALL city. New York has 8 million and it DWARFS Los Angeles and every other city in the states. Xi’an to someone from China is a backwater with 9 million people. I thought I was going to be roughing it in the country. When I drove to the Great Wall two days ago, I passed through dozens of villages and I kept asking Sunny why so many of them had bricks stacked on the street. She seemed confused about what I was asking – to me, it seems that everywhere in China has major construction going on. I counted about thirty high-rise buildings on my drive around Xi’an today with cranes on top. Lulu’s response: new apartment buildings. A lot of people from other provinces are moving to Xi’an. Her other dream? To buy her own apartment. Real estate in Xi’an? About 7,000 RMB ($1,200) a square meter.
I don’t want to sound alarmist. I don’t think we need to be afraid of China but we sure has hell need to recognize that this country is moving forward while America isn’t really. As I flew in to Xi’an on a Chinese airline I mused about the fact that without western ingenuity and drive, the Chinese would probably have never invented the airplane. Their culture is to bound by ancient tradition and rules about conformity to produce real original ideas – or at least it HAS been. They have planes folks. They have what we have, and now people like Lulu are dreaming of something better. When 1.3 billion people with drive and ambition fully enter the world community – and I would argue that they have entered it a great degree - the time of western dominances will be over. We have had a 200 year run, and in the next 100 years that run will be over. People like Lulu will lead the charge. My friend Sam, who lives in Shanghai described the city as “New York in the 1920’s” Keep in mind what the America of the 1920’s did in the following decades. As a historian and an internationalist I don’t begrudge China its rise. Lulu said that in China, life is hard and she believes that in America it is easy. I told her that this is not the case. I also told her that if she stays in China, she will be living in a very different country as she grows old. Anyone who tells you China will not succeed is deluded. Chinese have always seen history as a cyclical pattern. A strong dynasty crumbles into chaos and disunity, finally a new dynasty rises to power and great things happen. The Qin, The Han, The Tang, The Ming. The last dynasty fell in 1912 after a century of weakness. 100 years later China is awakening. When it has its NEXT golden age, it will be a golden age that occurs on the world stage.
I offered to help Lulu get her visa to visit the US. Why? Because we need people to come to the states and teach us Chinese. I will be learning it. I also not-so-secretly hope that the rise of China can be influenced by the hard lessons the west has had to learn as we have grappled with this strange modern world we have created. Maybe if Lulu and people like her come and live in our country for a few years they can return to their home and make a better future for all of us.
Oh, I updated the Beijing pics below. Enjoy and thanks for reading my blog.
My tour guide in Xi’an is a younger girl named Lulu who is a riot, in addition to being very concerned about my well-being. I really came to China less to sight-see than to meet and interact with Chinese people. Who better to interact with than my tour guides? The language barrier makes it challenging to find people who can carry on a conversation – beyond “hello” most Chinese people cannot speak English.
Today, my problem with currency was further exacerbated by the fact that somehow, somewhere, I lost my “dummy wallet.” Thankfully all my real cash and credit card is securely in my money belt which never leaves my waist or my hand but either I put my wallet down in the Terracotta Warrior gift shop or my wallet was nicked in the underground passageway by a very adept pickpocket.
When we got back to the hotel and I realized what had happened, Lulu was so quick to call the Terracotta Warrior museum and even call the police there locally to see if anyone had turned it in. She felt like it was her fault I had lost my wallet. I was thankful since I had spent so much money on gifts and souvenirs today that the wallet was pretty empty – the wallet was bought for five bucks at Wal-Mart. Thankfully I spent a lot of money today so I only had maybe 400RMB in there - about 70 bucks - but I lost my last tour guide’s business card. Not the end of the world - I have her cell number. Did I mention everyone in China seems to have an iPhone or an iPad?
Lulu is twenty-five years old. She is part of what the government here calls, “The New China” She has big dreams to study in America one day and teach Chinese. She comes from a village 45km outside of Xi’an and studied English and Tourism for 3 years here in Xi’an but did not get her four-year degree. Her English could be better. Sunny’s English was very accomplished although I was able to teach her some idiomatic phrases she didn’t know. Lulu probably understands about 80% of what I say. Today she learned three new words from me, eclectic, digestion and bubbles.
Today on the drive to the Terracotta Army we talked about where China is today and where it is going. Xi’an is a bustling city of 9 million people. Sunny described it as a small city. 9 million people here is a SMALL city. New York has 8 million and it DWARFS Los Angeles and every other city in the states. Xi’an to someone from China is a backwater with 9 million people. I thought I was going to be roughing it in the country. When I drove to the Great Wall two days ago, I passed through dozens of villages and I kept asking Sunny why so many of them had bricks stacked on the street. She seemed confused about what I was asking – to me, it seems that everywhere in China has major construction going on. I counted about thirty high-rise buildings on my drive around Xi’an today with cranes on top. Lulu’s response: new apartment buildings. A lot of people from other provinces are moving to Xi’an. Her other dream? To buy her own apartment. Real estate in Xi’an? About 7,000 RMB ($1,200) a square meter.
I don’t want to sound alarmist. I don’t think we need to be afraid of China but we sure has hell need to recognize that this country is moving forward while America isn’t really. As I flew in to Xi’an on a Chinese airline I mused about the fact that without western ingenuity and drive, the Chinese would probably have never invented the airplane. Their culture is to bound by ancient tradition and rules about conformity to produce real original ideas – or at least it HAS been. They have planes folks. They have what we have, and now people like Lulu are dreaming of something better. When 1.3 billion people with drive and ambition fully enter the world community – and I would argue that they have entered it a great degree - the time of western dominances will be over. We have had a 200 year run, and in the next 100 years that run will be over. People like Lulu will lead the charge. My friend Sam, who lives in Shanghai described the city as “New York in the 1920’s” Keep in mind what the America of the 1920’s did in the following decades. As a historian and an internationalist I don’t begrudge China its rise. Lulu said that in China, life is hard and she believes that in America it is easy. I told her that this is not the case. I also told her that if she stays in China, she will be living in a very different country as she grows old. Anyone who tells you China will not succeed is deluded. Chinese have always seen history as a cyclical pattern. A strong dynasty crumbles into chaos and disunity, finally a new dynasty rises to power and great things happen. The Qin, The Han, The Tang, The Ming. The last dynasty fell in 1912 after a century of weakness. 100 years later China is awakening. When it has its NEXT golden age, it will be a golden age that occurs on the world stage.
I offered to help Lulu get her visa to visit the US. Why? Because we need people to come to the states and teach us Chinese. I will be learning it. I also not-so-secretly hope that the rise of China can be influenced by the hard lessons the west has had to learn as we have grappled with this strange modern world we have created. Maybe if Lulu and people like her come and live in our country for a few years they can return to their home and make a better future for all of us.
Oh, I updated the Beijing pics below. Enjoy and thanks for reading my blog.
Cash is King in China
I had read this phrase in a China tourism guide but despite that warning, I opted to take about half my immediate spending money in AMEX Travelers Cheques because I didn’t want to put THAT much cash in my money belt and because I heard there was a slightly favorable rate for Cheques.
Well, I was sorely mistaken. After a nice breakfast at my Xi’an hotel, I wandered into the lobby to inquire if they took Travelers Cheques – thinking they would say no, and I would need to go to the Bank of China which accepts them.
I pulled out my checks, took the proffered ink pen and proceeded to sign the Cheque. Many of you know what my signature looks like – a dozen years of signing loan contracts and purchase agreements and now hall passes has turned my signature into little more than a series of squiggly lines that begin with something that looks like a J and at some point in the back there is a line through two bumps that could be T’s. I think that is true of most people who at one point or another signed things constantly. I know its true of my Dad.
Not that this would be a problem for Travelers Cheques because we all know that that signature matching thing is a joke. You use that so if the guy in front of you doesn’t seem like he is legit, you can reject the Cheque. Well, my Cheque was rejected. My ballpoint pen signature didn’t quite look enough like my ink pen signature for the 20 year old receptionist. After much shouting, they finally agreed to accept ONE of the TWO Cheques I handed over. Their reason? The Bank of China will reject them. Really? Doubtful and if the Bank of China is in the habit of regularly turning down AMEX Travelers Cheques based on signature verification, I think AMEX would have put a big warning on their website – “Don’t use these in China.” The real rub here is that by offering to accept one and not the other Cheque the girl proved that she doesn’t understand the concept of the device itself since they come in a series. If she believes that they would accept number 68 but not number 69 then either her or the Bank of China or both don’t quite understand.
The German tourist next to me told me that if you hand them a bill that is dirty or ripped or crumpled they won’t accept them either.
My tour guide thankfully intervened and asked them to have me sign a second time. Further proving that they have no idea what is going on since now I’m reasonably sure that the Cheque is totally invalid. The best part of the whole thing is they have my damn credit card on file for a deposit so if indeed the 6’4” white guy who claims to be Jon Matthews actually stole some Cheques, at least he gave them a valid credit card so they can charge that the hundred bucks they are out!
Again, the Chinese have not quite figured out how to do Capitalism yet. Part of this is cultural – they are terrified of being wrong in any sort of official way – so much so apparently that it blinds them to simple logic and common sense. I suppose now, I have eight hundred dollars in Cheques that will fly back to the states with me to be exchanged for cash at my bank, where they will smile and laugh at my unique signature and fork over the Benjamins.
Well, I was sorely mistaken. After a nice breakfast at my Xi’an hotel, I wandered into the lobby to inquire if they took Travelers Cheques – thinking they would say no, and I would need to go to the Bank of China which accepts them.
I pulled out my checks, took the proffered ink pen and proceeded to sign the Cheque. Many of you know what my signature looks like – a dozen years of signing loan contracts and purchase agreements and now hall passes has turned my signature into little more than a series of squiggly lines that begin with something that looks like a J and at some point in the back there is a line through two bumps that could be T’s. I think that is true of most people who at one point or another signed things constantly. I know its true of my Dad.
Not that this would be a problem for Travelers Cheques because we all know that that signature matching thing is a joke. You use that so if the guy in front of you doesn’t seem like he is legit, you can reject the Cheque. Well, my Cheque was rejected. My ballpoint pen signature didn’t quite look enough like my ink pen signature for the 20 year old receptionist. After much shouting, they finally agreed to accept ONE of the TWO Cheques I handed over. Their reason? The Bank of China will reject them. Really? Doubtful and if the Bank of China is in the habit of regularly turning down AMEX Travelers Cheques based on signature verification, I think AMEX would have put a big warning on their website – “Don’t use these in China.” The real rub here is that by offering to accept one and not the other Cheque the girl proved that she doesn’t understand the concept of the device itself since they come in a series. If she believes that they would accept number 68 but not number 69 then either her or the Bank of China or both don’t quite understand.
The German tourist next to me told me that if you hand them a bill that is dirty or ripped or crumpled they won’t accept them either.
My tour guide thankfully intervened and asked them to have me sign a second time. Further proving that they have no idea what is going on since now I’m reasonably sure that the Cheque is totally invalid. The best part of the whole thing is they have my damn credit card on file for a deposit so if indeed the 6’4” white guy who claims to be Jon Matthews actually stole some Cheques, at least he gave them a valid credit card so they can charge that the hundred bucks they are out!
Again, the Chinese have not quite figured out how to do Capitalism yet. Part of this is cultural – they are terrified of being wrong in any sort of official way – so much so apparently that it blinds them to simple logic and common sense. I suppose now, I have eight hundred dollars in Cheques that will fly back to the states with me to be exchanged for cash at my bank, where they will smile and laugh at my unique signature and fork over the Benjamins.
Some quick pics from my last day in Beijing. Takes a zillion years to upload pics. Off to tour Xian. This hotel is filled with American tourists so we have forks for breakfast food. I kinda forgot how to use a fork and I'm finding Americans to be loud and obnoxious.
August 4th, 2012. 10pm local time. Arrived Xian safely. Tour guide and driver are very young. City seems new. Hotel is very big and very busy. Great 9th floor view. Tired. More tomorrow. Message Ends.
Hello! Last night in Beijing, August 3rd 2012.
Chinese people greet Americans or those they believe are Americans with a very friendly “Hello.” This is typically followed by some attempt to sell you something.
Tonight it was, “Hello! Lady Bar? Beer Bar?” Now to me, I think most bars have both of those so I would have been confused had I not researched China a little bit. I was up at Houhai lake north of the Forbidden City. I had asked Sunny where I could go to sample Beijing’s nightlife and she suggested the lake region. I had seen it in the documentary, “Beijing Taxi”, so I had some idea what to expect. It is a small lake with boat rentals surrounded by bars and restaurants. I knew from the documentary that regular people frequented it.
My first mission was to hail said Beijing Taxi outside my hotel. This was easier said than done at 8pm. The taxis were all full so I moved around to a better vantage point hoping to hail one down only to be approached by a Beijing Rickshaw driver. The Rickshaw has turned 20th century if not 21st century on us. They are usually powered by motor scooters.
“Hello!” he said. Why not?
I pulled out my iPad and showed the driver where I wanted him to take me. I had decided my first stop would be a place my guidebook recommended for good Mongolian Kebob a few blocks from the lake.
“One hundred” He said. That is about 20 bucks. In New York or Boston that would be a very fair price for such a ride but Sunny told me, as did my guide book, that this would be a 15 RMB cab ride.
I laughed and said “Fifteen cab ride, you crazy!” and walked away. He followed me around the corner.
“Fifty!” came his next offer.
“Fifteen RMB. I take cab.” I replied yet again.
“Okay.” I got on, patting him on the shoulder. The ride was great, if a bit scary. Driving in Beijing traffic on what is essentially a rolling seat pulled by a scooter is not exactly a safe way to travel but it got me much closer to the street than a cab would have. I was enjoying myself until I realized that my driver was not really going the right way. Eventually he stopped and pointed southwest and it seemed my ride was over. Close was fine. On the ride, I decided that since a fifteen RMB ride was less than three bucks, I would give the driver thirty for the experience. I handed over my cash.
“Forty!” He shouted. You have to be kidding. I walked away. This was the first of many unpleasant experiences I had trying to get a couple of kebobs and a beer or two.
Turned out I was very far from where I was supposed to be. My iPad has a bad map of Beijing on it, but the GPS doesn’t work so I have to look at street signs in Chinese with a little English and compare them to my map which has a little Chinese and some English. My keen direction sense eventually got me going the right way. I passed a bunch of trendy bars with crowds of young expats and Chinese streaming in and out. In retrospect I should have grabbed a bite here and a few drinks but I was determined to get my kebob and then get to the lake. Finally, I found the lake without any help I might add. Now for Yi Long and the kebobs.
Figuring out Beijing streets took me awhile – at first I assumed that all the streets on my map were streets – but gradually it dawned on me that in fact, many of them are simply alleyways- Hutong. I saw a very dark Hutong that seemed like it was the only option. I was a bit nervous stepping into the alley but again, looks can be deciving. The alley twisted along a little river that drained from the lake. It was full of people young and old walking, sitting, smoking and talking. I saw a man I thought was a cop talking with a young teenage boy. With no English, he was able to assure me that I was in the right place. He pointed across the river to an area with bright lights. I thanked him with my by-now-well-perfected Xie Xie –pronounced sort of like Shi Shi but not really. Strangely, to boy followed me with a huge smile on his face.
He laughed and said, “Hello!”
I replied with my usual, “Ni Hao.”
He laughed again and held his arm up to mine and lightly touched the hair on my arm. I think this boy was simply interested in walking with a big tall American. When I pointed across a bridge to the bright lights where I thought the place was he said, “Yes!” and then disappeared. Did the guard tell him to show me? Did he do it on his own? It was the briefest of encounters, but after the ups and downs of my rickshaw ride such an authentic meeting was welcome.
I crossed the footbridge towards the lights and saw some Chinese people eating outside the restaurant. This was a real Chinese place – not for tourists so the sign did not have the usual English under the Chinese characters but I saw someone eating a kebob so I figured this must be the place. Well, I thought it was maybe the place. The waiter showed me the menu and I saw the Kebobs. “Three?” He pointed to something else on the menu but I shook my head. A few minutes and nine RMB later I had my kebobs. Success. They sure were about the best lamb kebobs I have ever had. For a buck and change, I should have gotten more. I contemplated returning as I had opted to eat them on the walk, but I thought I would look stupid.
On to the lake.
“Hello!” this time from a young man as I approached the lake. “You drink a beer?” He asked. Duh.
“You come with me, my bar.” Okay why not? A bit weird but the guy was friendly enough. I should have known. He took me to a bar where a guy was singing karaoke on stage and a few couples were having food and drinks. I ordered a Tsing Tao beer. A few minutes later a woman about my age in a tight mini-skirt saddled up to me.
“Can I sit with you?” She asked in pretty good English. I’m not stupid, but on the other hand I’m also not going to say no when a pretty hooker asks to sit next to me while I have a beer. I wasn’t really sure she was a hooker at this point, since I have heard all about the girls who work in bars whose job it is to get customers drunk and laugh at their jokes. After a minute of small talk she asked me to buy her a juice. Here it goes – I was in one of Beijing’s “lady bars”. How much? Seventy. My beer was thirty. Okay I’ll bite – for twenty American it will be a good story.
The beer, by the way, was warm. Yum. I asked my drinking companion if she worked at the bar.
“Yes, I am working girl.” Ah, so more than just the hired drinking buddy. Certainly cute, but I was not at Huihai for that. She held her arm up to mine like the little boy had. I told her that was the second time in twenty minutes someone had commented on my hairy arms. “I like! Chinese men have no hair!” I’m sure she would like anything for the right price. I finished my beer, laughed a little more with the hooker and then I was off to find an actual bar with actual people.
The Houhai district is full of what I was told were trendy bars and guitar bars. Why then this quiet little place? Was this a bar that just preyed on unwary westerners or wary ones looking for a good time? Why was it seemingly so hard to do something so simple as walk into a bar, sit down, order a drink and people watch? I was a bit annoyed as man after man accosted me in the street with, “Hello!” Lady Bar? Beer Bar?” I really can do this myself guys. Why the hawking? I understand it at a knick-knack kiosk but for a bar? Relax.
Earlier today Sunny pointed out that I – in context she meant me and all American tourists – don’t like it when people try to get us to come look at their wares by shouting to us. She is right. I don’t like it. If I want to look at your shit, I will come and look at it. Of course, the tactic works which is why people here use it. At the Great Wall this afternoon, a woman at a souvenir stall got me with, “T-Shirt! One dollar!” She proceeded to pull a bait and switch and tell me that the dollar shirt was nylon. She would make me good deal on two cotton shirts. Oohh Cotton! The fabric of our lives.
By now the woman had pulled me into the back of the Kiosk and gave me her offer for two shirts I had picked out. 600RMB. That’s one hundred dollars ladies and gentleman. I laughed and walked out of her stall – she grabbed my arm. I figured that I would return the insult and offer her 20 RMB for the two shirts.
“Cotton! Cotton!” She shouted. I laughed.
“This is cotton!” I rubbed my own shirt. “Who cares?” At this Sunny, standing outside on the street, cracked up. I now had everyone on the street looking at me. “Fifty” I decided to play nice. I was offering her about nine bucks for the two shirts.
She scoffed at me so I walked away. “One hundred.” Now you are speaking my language. She was mad but I don’t think she could have let me walk away and lose face with the other shopkeepers who were now all watching the show. I gave her the money. Sunny even commented on how aggressive she was. She also complimented me on my negotiating skills. Eighteen bucks or so for two touristy T-shirts is a pretty good deal.
I think it is not a lot to ask to walk into a bar and order a drink. The Chinese are feeling capitalism for the first time but honestly, they are doing it wrong. Thankfully, those who believe in the marketplace know that eventually it will come out in the wash and the “Lady Bar!” hawkers may go away. In general, if you build it they will come. If you offer a good product at a good price people will find it and buy it. The Chinese will some day learn this but they have not yet. I eventually found the bars with people eating and drinking but by then it was late, and the urge to have a few beers had left me. Besides, the Chinese drink their beer warm. The hooker had kindly gotten me a glass full of ice for my beer.
After sitting in a park watching a damn good Michael Jackson impersonator, I walked to the street to find a cab. Now they were everywhere. I man offered a ride. I showed him where I wanted to go on my iPad and he nodded.
My “ride” home was a nightmare and at the time as I composed this very entry in my head during my 3k walk home I was ready to launch into a screed against all of China but gradually I realized that I probably should not have mother-F’d the cab driver. The cab ride ended with me jumping out of the cab as I watched the meter climb outrageously – it was up to 27 RMB after driving about two blocks – the problem was, in my anger and frustration I left the bag of gifts in the cab that I had purchased at the lake. So the guy made out. I had been so proud of myself too. I negotiated the girl at the stand down from 190 to 80 on the fans. She had complimented me on my negotiating skills and then I went and left the stuff in the cab.
After getting out, I wandered around in the direction I thought the Forbidden City was in. I was totally sure I had it right and then, as often happens when we think we are right, something didn’t add up with the streets. Finally I saw a police substation with a car outside of it. Two SWAT guys – how much action does a SWAT team get in Beijing I wonder – were sitting in a van. One of them looked at my map and pointed me in the OPPOSITE direction and said the name of the street I needed to get to. I was on the WEST side of the Forbidden City and I thought I was on the NORTH side. I thought back to my walk around the lake and looked at my map. I had been totally wrong. I was in a totally different place than I thought I was when I left the lake. The Matthews sense of direction had totally failed and because of that I had decided that all Chinese people were conniving and rude. I punished myself with a long walk back around the Forbidden City at night and I have a nice blister to remember my travails by. My faith in humanity was restored yet again by the regular people walking the streets at night, living their lives and by a little white kitten who jumped out onto the path ahead of me, meowed, and ran back into the bushes, mewing for its mother.
I’m still a bit annoyed by the rickshaw driver, the cabbie and the lady bar hawkers but over all, the mistake was mine for being foolish and impatient.
Don't forget to see all the new pictures below.
Tonight it was, “Hello! Lady Bar? Beer Bar?” Now to me, I think most bars have both of those so I would have been confused had I not researched China a little bit. I was up at Houhai lake north of the Forbidden City. I had asked Sunny where I could go to sample Beijing’s nightlife and she suggested the lake region. I had seen it in the documentary, “Beijing Taxi”, so I had some idea what to expect. It is a small lake with boat rentals surrounded by bars and restaurants. I knew from the documentary that regular people frequented it.
My first mission was to hail said Beijing Taxi outside my hotel. This was easier said than done at 8pm. The taxis were all full so I moved around to a better vantage point hoping to hail one down only to be approached by a Beijing Rickshaw driver. The Rickshaw has turned 20th century if not 21st century on us. They are usually powered by motor scooters.
“Hello!” he said. Why not?
I pulled out my iPad and showed the driver where I wanted him to take me. I had decided my first stop would be a place my guidebook recommended for good Mongolian Kebob a few blocks from the lake.
“One hundred” He said. That is about 20 bucks. In New York or Boston that would be a very fair price for such a ride but Sunny told me, as did my guide book, that this would be a 15 RMB cab ride.
I laughed and said “Fifteen cab ride, you crazy!” and walked away. He followed me around the corner.
“Fifty!” came his next offer.
“Fifteen RMB. I take cab.” I replied yet again.
“Okay.” I got on, patting him on the shoulder. The ride was great, if a bit scary. Driving in Beijing traffic on what is essentially a rolling seat pulled by a scooter is not exactly a safe way to travel but it got me much closer to the street than a cab would have. I was enjoying myself until I realized that my driver was not really going the right way. Eventually he stopped and pointed southwest and it seemed my ride was over. Close was fine. On the ride, I decided that since a fifteen RMB ride was less than three bucks, I would give the driver thirty for the experience. I handed over my cash.
“Forty!” He shouted. You have to be kidding. I walked away. This was the first of many unpleasant experiences I had trying to get a couple of kebobs and a beer or two.
Turned out I was very far from where I was supposed to be. My iPad has a bad map of Beijing on it, but the GPS doesn’t work so I have to look at street signs in Chinese with a little English and compare them to my map which has a little Chinese and some English. My keen direction sense eventually got me going the right way. I passed a bunch of trendy bars with crowds of young expats and Chinese streaming in and out. In retrospect I should have grabbed a bite here and a few drinks but I was determined to get my kebob and then get to the lake. Finally, I found the lake without any help I might add. Now for Yi Long and the kebobs.
Figuring out Beijing streets took me awhile – at first I assumed that all the streets on my map were streets – but gradually it dawned on me that in fact, many of them are simply alleyways- Hutong. I saw a very dark Hutong that seemed like it was the only option. I was a bit nervous stepping into the alley but again, looks can be deciving. The alley twisted along a little river that drained from the lake. It was full of people young and old walking, sitting, smoking and talking. I saw a man I thought was a cop talking with a young teenage boy. With no English, he was able to assure me that I was in the right place. He pointed across the river to an area with bright lights. I thanked him with my by-now-well-perfected Xie Xie –pronounced sort of like Shi Shi but not really. Strangely, to boy followed me with a huge smile on his face.
He laughed and said, “Hello!”
I replied with my usual, “Ni Hao.”
He laughed again and held his arm up to mine and lightly touched the hair on my arm. I think this boy was simply interested in walking with a big tall American. When I pointed across a bridge to the bright lights where I thought the place was he said, “Yes!” and then disappeared. Did the guard tell him to show me? Did he do it on his own? It was the briefest of encounters, but after the ups and downs of my rickshaw ride such an authentic meeting was welcome.
I crossed the footbridge towards the lights and saw some Chinese people eating outside the restaurant. This was a real Chinese place – not for tourists so the sign did not have the usual English under the Chinese characters but I saw someone eating a kebob so I figured this must be the place. Well, I thought it was maybe the place. The waiter showed me the menu and I saw the Kebobs. “Three?” He pointed to something else on the menu but I shook my head. A few minutes and nine RMB later I had my kebobs. Success. They sure were about the best lamb kebobs I have ever had. For a buck and change, I should have gotten more. I contemplated returning as I had opted to eat them on the walk, but I thought I would look stupid.
On to the lake.
“Hello!” this time from a young man as I approached the lake. “You drink a beer?” He asked. Duh.
“You come with me, my bar.” Okay why not? A bit weird but the guy was friendly enough. I should have known. He took me to a bar where a guy was singing karaoke on stage and a few couples were having food and drinks. I ordered a Tsing Tao beer. A few minutes later a woman about my age in a tight mini-skirt saddled up to me.
“Can I sit with you?” She asked in pretty good English. I’m not stupid, but on the other hand I’m also not going to say no when a pretty hooker asks to sit next to me while I have a beer. I wasn’t really sure she was a hooker at this point, since I have heard all about the girls who work in bars whose job it is to get customers drunk and laugh at their jokes. After a minute of small talk she asked me to buy her a juice. Here it goes – I was in one of Beijing’s “lady bars”. How much? Seventy. My beer was thirty. Okay I’ll bite – for twenty American it will be a good story.
The beer, by the way, was warm. Yum. I asked my drinking companion if she worked at the bar.
“Yes, I am working girl.” Ah, so more than just the hired drinking buddy. Certainly cute, but I was not at Huihai for that. She held her arm up to mine like the little boy had. I told her that was the second time in twenty minutes someone had commented on my hairy arms. “I like! Chinese men have no hair!” I’m sure she would like anything for the right price. I finished my beer, laughed a little more with the hooker and then I was off to find an actual bar with actual people.
The Houhai district is full of what I was told were trendy bars and guitar bars. Why then this quiet little place? Was this a bar that just preyed on unwary westerners or wary ones looking for a good time? Why was it seemingly so hard to do something so simple as walk into a bar, sit down, order a drink and people watch? I was a bit annoyed as man after man accosted me in the street with, “Hello!” Lady Bar? Beer Bar?” I really can do this myself guys. Why the hawking? I understand it at a knick-knack kiosk but for a bar? Relax.
Earlier today Sunny pointed out that I – in context she meant me and all American tourists – don’t like it when people try to get us to come look at their wares by shouting to us. She is right. I don’t like it. If I want to look at your shit, I will come and look at it. Of course, the tactic works which is why people here use it. At the Great Wall this afternoon, a woman at a souvenir stall got me with, “T-Shirt! One dollar!” She proceeded to pull a bait and switch and tell me that the dollar shirt was nylon. She would make me good deal on two cotton shirts. Oohh Cotton! The fabric of our lives.
By now the woman had pulled me into the back of the Kiosk and gave me her offer for two shirts I had picked out. 600RMB. That’s one hundred dollars ladies and gentleman. I laughed and walked out of her stall – she grabbed my arm. I figured that I would return the insult and offer her 20 RMB for the two shirts.
“Cotton! Cotton!” She shouted. I laughed.
“This is cotton!” I rubbed my own shirt. “Who cares?” At this Sunny, standing outside on the street, cracked up. I now had everyone on the street looking at me. “Fifty” I decided to play nice. I was offering her about nine bucks for the two shirts.
She scoffed at me so I walked away. “One hundred.” Now you are speaking my language. She was mad but I don’t think she could have let me walk away and lose face with the other shopkeepers who were now all watching the show. I gave her the money. Sunny even commented on how aggressive she was. She also complimented me on my negotiating skills. Eighteen bucks or so for two touristy T-shirts is a pretty good deal.
I think it is not a lot to ask to walk into a bar and order a drink. The Chinese are feeling capitalism for the first time but honestly, they are doing it wrong. Thankfully, those who believe in the marketplace know that eventually it will come out in the wash and the “Lady Bar!” hawkers may go away. In general, if you build it they will come. If you offer a good product at a good price people will find it and buy it. The Chinese will some day learn this but they have not yet. I eventually found the bars with people eating and drinking but by then it was late, and the urge to have a few beers had left me. Besides, the Chinese drink their beer warm. The hooker had kindly gotten me a glass full of ice for my beer.
After sitting in a park watching a damn good Michael Jackson impersonator, I walked to the street to find a cab. Now they were everywhere. I man offered a ride. I showed him where I wanted to go on my iPad and he nodded.
My “ride” home was a nightmare and at the time as I composed this very entry in my head during my 3k walk home I was ready to launch into a screed against all of China but gradually I realized that I probably should not have mother-F’d the cab driver. The cab ride ended with me jumping out of the cab as I watched the meter climb outrageously – it was up to 27 RMB after driving about two blocks – the problem was, in my anger and frustration I left the bag of gifts in the cab that I had purchased at the lake. So the guy made out. I had been so proud of myself too. I negotiated the girl at the stand down from 190 to 80 on the fans. She had complimented me on my negotiating skills and then I went and left the stuff in the cab.
After getting out, I wandered around in the direction I thought the Forbidden City was in. I was totally sure I had it right and then, as often happens when we think we are right, something didn’t add up with the streets. Finally I saw a police substation with a car outside of it. Two SWAT guys – how much action does a SWAT team get in Beijing I wonder – were sitting in a van. One of them looked at my map and pointed me in the OPPOSITE direction and said the name of the street I needed to get to. I was on the WEST side of the Forbidden City and I thought I was on the NORTH side. I thought back to my walk around the lake and looked at my map. I had been totally wrong. I was in a totally different place than I thought I was when I left the lake. The Matthews sense of direction had totally failed and because of that I had decided that all Chinese people were conniving and rude. I punished myself with a long walk back around the Forbidden City at night and I have a nice blister to remember my travails by. My faith in humanity was restored yet again by the regular people walking the streets at night, living their lives and by a little white kitten who jumped out onto the path ahead of me, meowed, and ran back into the bushes, mewing for its mother.
I’m still a bit annoyed by the rickshaw driver, the cabbie and the lady bar hawkers but over all, the mistake was mine for being foolish and impatient.
Don't forget to see all the new pictures below.
Trembling Before the Might of Tian - Tiananmen Square, The Forbidden City and more. August 2nd, 2012
Sunny was out front at 9:30. We made our way to Tiananmen Square – a place I know only from a grainy film of a man standing bravely before a tank.
I was in awe of the size of Tiananmen. The pictures simply do not do the place justice. I have been to large open public space before – Red Square comes to mind – yet nothing prepared me for the sheer scope of this open place.
Sunny, despite being a seemingly intelligent and open-minded woman, towed the party line completely but underneath the slogans and Maoist ideology there was a deep sense of national pride. The Chinese have much to be proud of. What was, perhaps, most surprising about Tiananmen Square was the fact that I was about the only Westerner I could see. I asked Sunny about the Chinese I saw.
“Summer holiday – these are people from all over China – only the tour guides are from Beijing” Here I was on the national mall. These people wanted to be here. I do love Communist pageantry – there is something about it that is so serious that it almost cannot be made fun of. Almost. If I was impressed by Tiananmen, I had not seen anything yet.
I’ve seen, “The Last Emperor” and I’m sure you have too. Well, that movie does not hold a candle to the real thing. About the only thing that even compares to The Forbidden City – the seat of power for the Ming and Qing Emperors of China from 1420-1912 – is Versailles. At Versailles I was very small. In the Forbidden City I was microscopic. Gate after gate. First we must pass through Tiananmen Gate. As I waited while Sunny got our tickets, I suddenly realized that the huge gate I was looking at was not the entrance to the city – it was just the other side of the Tiananmen Gate. This pattern repeated itself over and over again. After each towering, monolithic entryway there was another – and another. Sunny said it would take 4 days and 4 nights to explore the entire city. A city all for one man – the Son of Heaven. I don’t know how to express the awe I felt actually standing inside this place. I can only say, you must go. If a voice inside you says, “It’s just a bunch of red buildings with yellow roof tiles. It all looks the same” Please do us both a favor and shoot yourself. Really.
Before we went to the Temple of Heaven, Sunny took me to a traditional tea tasting. She said it was going to be a tea ceremony but it really wasn’t ceremonial unless ceremonial in Chinese involves the selling of tea. The girl was very friendly and the atmosphere in the tea shop was quaint. I also learned quite a bit about tea. It’s really big over here in case you didn’t know. Sunny was not familiar with the phrase, “…for all the tea in China.” So I got to drop that idiom – I’ve also taught her what a mutt is as well as a redneck. Don’t ask. I also bought about 90 dollars worth of tea, and these really cool jasmine flowers that a few of you are going to really like. I also have enough tea to see me through about 6 months. I was a bit disappointed that this ceremony was a sales pitch, but I would rather my tour guide bring me to an authentic tea shop than I just wander into one later at get hosed.
We then visited the Hutong region of Beijing – this is where the Yuan (Mongolian) Emperors – remember Kublai Khan? – built housing. There are a few Hutongs (means alleyway) left in Beijing. This is where traditional life still carries on. We got a rickshaw and a second tour guide – a teenage girl named Lotus – who rode her bike. I was told that I would be brought to meet a real Chinese family living in the Hutong. Why a real Chinese family would be interested in having their day interrupted was beyond me but Mr. Wong was a great cook and a very friendly man. I apparently ate lunch in his dining room as he cooked it in the next room. Some tasty beer coupled with more jasmine tea and I was treated to perhaps the best meal I have had in years. Mr. Wong cooked me four dishes, which I shared with Sunny and Lotus – chicken with green peppers, chicken with onions, chicken with garlic shoots and finally “pork meatballs” which were simply too good not to finish – despite the Chinese rule about leaving food in the plate. Mr. Wong’s grandfather cooked for Pu Yi – The emperor from “The Last Emperor.” His family has lived in this particular Hutong for 100 years but his 29 year old daughter does not wish to stay in the Hutong. I’m not sure I would either if my house didn’t include a toilet. While it is probably Mr. Wong’s job to open his house to foreign visitors like myself, he certainly seemed genuine. Sunny complimented me on my ability to use chopsticks since I quite clearly rejected the fork I was handed. I’m in China. I’m eating my rice with chopsticks dammit. I noticed a German couple at breakfast this morning eating with forks and knives. Really?!?
By the time we reached the Temple of Heaven I was toured out. We arrived, I pulled a Chevy Chase Grand Canyon move and we were off. It was neat and all but his house was much more impressive than his church.
Tomorrow is the Great Wall of China – Lotus assured me that after that I will be a hero. That doesn’t sound good.
Strangely enough, Sunny got me tickets to the Kung Fu show – an option in my tour package- but she offered to accompany me and pay for the cab – her treat. I suppose being knowledgeable about her culture has impressed her enough that she wants to take me to see this show. She said that when she visits the states I have to show her around.
We took the Beijing bus – which I’d recommend to anyone visiting Beijing if you would like to be stared at by Chinese people for 45 minutes. Getting stared at is something I am getting used to in places that do not directly cater to foreigners. We had a quick bite before the show at a cheap Sichuan place. Dinner for two and a sprite? Under five dollars and as good if not better than any Chinese place in the states. You have to speak Chinese and be ready to be stared at by other diners but that’s why I’m here.
The Kung Fu show? Great if you like that sort of thing – it was like Riverdance but with kung fu moves. High production values and very cool but if it was more than an hour I probably would not have been happy.
The internet service here in the hotel is poor, so uploading photos is difficult. I will try to post a few soon.
I was in awe of the size of Tiananmen. The pictures simply do not do the place justice. I have been to large open public space before – Red Square comes to mind – yet nothing prepared me for the sheer scope of this open place.
Sunny, despite being a seemingly intelligent and open-minded woman, towed the party line completely but underneath the slogans and Maoist ideology there was a deep sense of national pride. The Chinese have much to be proud of. What was, perhaps, most surprising about Tiananmen Square was the fact that I was about the only Westerner I could see. I asked Sunny about the Chinese I saw.
“Summer holiday – these are people from all over China – only the tour guides are from Beijing” Here I was on the national mall. These people wanted to be here. I do love Communist pageantry – there is something about it that is so serious that it almost cannot be made fun of. Almost. If I was impressed by Tiananmen, I had not seen anything yet.
I’ve seen, “The Last Emperor” and I’m sure you have too. Well, that movie does not hold a candle to the real thing. About the only thing that even compares to The Forbidden City – the seat of power for the Ming and Qing Emperors of China from 1420-1912 – is Versailles. At Versailles I was very small. In the Forbidden City I was microscopic. Gate after gate. First we must pass through Tiananmen Gate. As I waited while Sunny got our tickets, I suddenly realized that the huge gate I was looking at was not the entrance to the city – it was just the other side of the Tiananmen Gate. This pattern repeated itself over and over again. After each towering, monolithic entryway there was another – and another. Sunny said it would take 4 days and 4 nights to explore the entire city. A city all for one man – the Son of Heaven. I don’t know how to express the awe I felt actually standing inside this place. I can only say, you must go. If a voice inside you says, “It’s just a bunch of red buildings with yellow roof tiles. It all looks the same” Please do us both a favor and shoot yourself. Really.
Before we went to the Temple of Heaven, Sunny took me to a traditional tea tasting. She said it was going to be a tea ceremony but it really wasn’t ceremonial unless ceremonial in Chinese involves the selling of tea. The girl was very friendly and the atmosphere in the tea shop was quaint. I also learned quite a bit about tea. It’s really big over here in case you didn’t know. Sunny was not familiar with the phrase, “…for all the tea in China.” So I got to drop that idiom – I’ve also taught her what a mutt is as well as a redneck. Don’t ask. I also bought about 90 dollars worth of tea, and these really cool jasmine flowers that a few of you are going to really like. I also have enough tea to see me through about 6 months. I was a bit disappointed that this ceremony was a sales pitch, but I would rather my tour guide bring me to an authentic tea shop than I just wander into one later at get hosed.
We then visited the Hutong region of Beijing – this is where the Yuan (Mongolian) Emperors – remember Kublai Khan? – built housing. There are a few Hutongs (means alleyway) left in Beijing. This is where traditional life still carries on. We got a rickshaw and a second tour guide – a teenage girl named Lotus – who rode her bike. I was told that I would be brought to meet a real Chinese family living in the Hutong. Why a real Chinese family would be interested in having their day interrupted was beyond me but Mr. Wong was a great cook and a very friendly man. I apparently ate lunch in his dining room as he cooked it in the next room. Some tasty beer coupled with more jasmine tea and I was treated to perhaps the best meal I have had in years. Mr. Wong cooked me four dishes, which I shared with Sunny and Lotus – chicken with green peppers, chicken with onions, chicken with garlic shoots and finally “pork meatballs” which were simply too good not to finish – despite the Chinese rule about leaving food in the plate. Mr. Wong’s grandfather cooked for Pu Yi – The emperor from “The Last Emperor.” His family has lived in this particular Hutong for 100 years but his 29 year old daughter does not wish to stay in the Hutong. I’m not sure I would either if my house didn’t include a toilet. While it is probably Mr. Wong’s job to open his house to foreign visitors like myself, he certainly seemed genuine. Sunny complimented me on my ability to use chopsticks since I quite clearly rejected the fork I was handed. I’m in China. I’m eating my rice with chopsticks dammit. I noticed a German couple at breakfast this morning eating with forks and knives. Really?!?
By the time we reached the Temple of Heaven I was toured out. We arrived, I pulled a Chevy Chase Grand Canyon move and we were off. It was neat and all but his house was much more impressive than his church.
Tomorrow is the Great Wall of China – Lotus assured me that after that I will be a hero. That doesn’t sound good.
Strangely enough, Sunny got me tickets to the Kung Fu show – an option in my tour package- but she offered to accompany me and pay for the cab – her treat. I suppose being knowledgeable about her culture has impressed her enough that she wants to take me to see this show. She said that when she visits the states I have to show her around.
We took the Beijing bus – which I’d recommend to anyone visiting Beijing if you would like to be stared at by Chinese people for 45 minutes. Getting stared at is something I am getting used to in places that do not directly cater to foreigners. We had a quick bite before the show at a cheap Sichuan place. Dinner for two and a sprite? Under five dollars and as good if not better than any Chinese place in the states. You have to speak Chinese and be ready to be stared at by other diners but that’s why I’m here.
The Kung Fu show? Great if you like that sort of thing – it was like Riverdance but with kung fu moves. High production values and very cool but if it was more than an hour I probably would not have been happy.
The internet service here in the hotel is poor, so uploading photos is difficult. I will try to post a few soon.
Walking Beijing at Night. August 1st, 2012.
So what to say about my evening stroll last night through, as Sunny calls it, “The Imperial City” – the inner ring; the old city – Across the street from my hotel was a huge gathering of people around a few shops. Two restaurants, a tea shop and a Subway. Yes, a Subway.
They were sitting on the street eating food from foil trays in front of one of the places. There were, perhaps two dozen people there – all Chinese – chatting away and smoking. I was a bit hungry but I really wanted to get to the Forbidden City and see it at night so I just glanced at the food. Some crawfish, some meat on the bone, and several dishes I could only guess at. I decided that I might hit it on my return trip.
Continuing down Dong’anmen Street, I passed many small businesses – some open but empty of customers at this late hour. I passed a young woman in a tight skirt who smiled at me, boys playing on the sidewalk, men fixing something under a manhole cover. I’ll be honest – it was dirty and it smelled bad. All signals that make an American like me assume the worst. Children playing at 11:30 at night? As I continued towards the Forbidden City I found men fishing in the moat, teenagers making out on benches yet at the same time, old couples taking a leisurely stroll.
I had been assured by my friend and my tour guide that Beijing; in fact all of China is a safe place. Crime in a country run by a single party that is free to use the death penalty tends to be a deterrent. As I continued on my walk I began to realize that what I was seeing was simply a very different lifestyle. Of course children were playing in the street at 11:30 – their parents were working in the store until late in the evening. This is not a dangerous place – far from it – but my own ideas about “china town”, my own responses to walking in a park late at night have made me a wary American. This is not that place. Tonight I may venture to what I’m sure is a nightly event outside my hotel, and eat some crawfish with my new temporary neighbors.
They were sitting on the street eating food from foil trays in front of one of the places. There were, perhaps two dozen people there – all Chinese – chatting away and smoking. I was a bit hungry but I really wanted to get to the Forbidden City and see it at night so I just glanced at the food. Some crawfish, some meat on the bone, and several dishes I could only guess at. I decided that I might hit it on my return trip.
Continuing down Dong’anmen Street, I passed many small businesses – some open but empty of customers at this late hour. I passed a young woman in a tight skirt who smiled at me, boys playing on the sidewalk, men fixing something under a manhole cover. I’ll be honest – it was dirty and it smelled bad. All signals that make an American like me assume the worst. Children playing at 11:30 at night? As I continued towards the Forbidden City I found men fishing in the moat, teenagers making out on benches yet at the same time, old couples taking a leisurely stroll.
I had been assured by my friend and my tour guide that Beijing; in fact all of China is a safe place. Crime in a country run by a single party that is free to use the death penalty tends to be a deterrent. As I continued on my walk I began to realize that what I was seeing was simply a very different lifestyle. Of course children were playing in the street at 11:30 – their parents were working in the store until late in the evening. This is not a dangerous place – far from it – but my own ideas about “china town”, my own responses to walking in a park late at night have made me a wary American. This is not that place. Tonight I may venture to what I’m sure is a nightly event outside my hotel, and eat some crawfish with my new temporary neighbors.
Momentary - 30 min - Panic Attack at Beijing International.
The short version - no one there to get me, tour guides phone number disconnected. Lots of flop sweat imagining what I would do in China for 11 days and how I would get to Shanghai for my flight home and how I could have been stupid enough to give some scam artist thousands of dollars.
Sunny, my guide, finally showed up after I called the office on a pay phone - figuring out how to do THAT took some work. At this point, ready to trust no one, I was not even sure if I should go with her. She is wonderful, however - and the hotel is great. I probably just dialed wrong.
Of course, on the ride over to the Jade Garden, Sunny says - "So you were born in May, and you are a Taurus. What is your blood type?" That kinda freaked me out.
This city is hard to describe at night - I can see how some people might think it is a dangerous place but strangely enough, the things that would alert an American to danger have a totally different cultural context here. I will try to explain that better after some sleep. Forbidden City and Tienanmen Square tmrw - more if Sunny thinks I can handle it.
Sunny, my guide, finally showed up after I called the office on a pay phone - figuring out how to do THAT took some work. At this point, ready to trust no one, I was not even sure if I should go with her. She is wonderful, however - and the hotel is great. I probably just dialed wrong.
Of course, on the ride over to the Jade Garden, Sunny says - "So you were born in May, and you are a Taurus. What is your blood type?" That kinda freaked me out.
This city is hard to describe at night - I can see how some people might think it is a dangerous place but strangely enough, the things that would alert an American to danger have a totally different cultural context here. I will try to explain that better after some sleep. Forbidden City and Tienanmen Square tmrw - more if Sunny thinks I can handle it.
Okay So it's a Nice Airport. Incheon Airport, South Korea, August 1st 2012.
Don't get me wrong, this is a really really nice Airport but it is not nearly as nice as advertised. Observation decks? First Class Lounges. They don't mention that on the website. Gardens? In the arrival area - not in the large passenger concourse where I am trapped in international limbo until my 7pm flight.
My "hotel" room is nice and very strange at the same time. See my pictures below for more information. It's interesting - you think sometimes that we have clearly thought of everything but here at the Transit Hotel, I have to put my card key in a slot by the door to activate the lights in the room. You literally cannot leave the hotel room without your card unless you are a total moron. However, at the same time, as I sit here in the Martina Lounge, I cannot seem to make the waitress understand that I'm in room 114 and I just want a Sprite. I will probably just go across the concourse to the Dunkin Donuts to get one. There is really nothing that special about a Sprite.
So I had a number of things I wanted to do here at Incheon to kill my 15 hours and it turns out I can't really do any of them. The Korean Cultural Museum? As best I can tell from the map, that is in the Concourse which holds the high numbered gates. There is a shuttle that goes there, but it is only one way. So you only get to go to the Museum if your flight happens to be at one of those 20 gates? I'm confused.
I thought maybe I would kill some time in a bar, chatting it up with the locals. Well, apparently again, you have to fly first class for that. There is a Bennigans (Yes, a Bennigans) but it looked empty at noon when I walked by. I also needed to buy a few things: Toothpaste, bug spray and sunscreen (TSA has scared me straight regarding taking liquids on an international flight. Do I have to buy a gallon bag or can I put my stuff in a quart bag? I don't want to get put on a terrorist watch list!) so when I heard that Incheon had a huge mall, I assumed I could probably find a drug store. Nope. I can find 5 liquor and cigarette shops and plenty of trendy boutiques but a regular place to buy sunscreen? I guess that will have to wait for Beijing. Of course, my Hotel room has some toothpaste so I can at least get my brush on. I couldn't even buy a fresh bottle of Polo Blue because I left by boarding pass back at the room - Duty Free is such a joke. Tax-free is all well and good assuming they don't double the price of the item.
Overall, I have to say that this is by far the cleanest and neatest airport I have ever been in. I had lunch at the food quart - I went for some traditional Korean food and as you can see from the photo - for 12 bucks its quite the meal! I now have to figure out what to do for dinner! What is surprising, however, is other than the fact that my waitress can't figure out that I want a Sprite and that she can bill it to room 114 (she has not returned - apparently I scared her off) this airport pretty much feels like it could be in any country in the world. The announcements are in Korean and I am certainly in the minority as a Caucasian but other than a few quirky things (I cannot find a single wall-outlet in my room nor anywhere else to charge my electronics) this is a much cleaner and nicer Airport. But it is still an Airport. See the cool photos below. Enjoy.
My "hotel" room is nice and very strange at the same time. See my pictures below for more information. It's interesting - you think sometimes that we have clearly thought of everything but here at the Transit Hotel, I have to put my card key in a slot by the door to activate the lights in the room. You literally cannot leave the hotel room without your card unless you are a total moron. However, at the same time, as I sit here in the Martina Lounge, I cannot seem to make the waitress understand that I'm in room 114 and I just want a Sprite. I will probably just go across the concourse to the Dunkin Donuts to get one. There is really nothing that special about a Sprite.
So I had a number of things I wanted to do here at Incheon to kill my 15 hours and it turns out I can't really do any of them. The Korean Cultural Museum? As best I can tell from the map, that is in the Concourse which holds the high numbered gates. There is a shuttle that goes there, but it is only one way. So you only get to go to the Museum if your flight happens to be at one of those 20 gates? I'm confused.
I thought maybe I would kill some time in a bar, chatting it up with the locals. Well, apparently again, you have to fly first class for that. There is a Bennigans (Yes, a Bennigans) but it looked empty at noon when I walked by. I also needed to buy a few things: Toothpaste, bug spray and sunscreen (TSA has scared me straight regarding taking liquids on an international flight. Do I have to buy a gallon bag or can I put my stuff in a quart bag? I don't want to get put on a terrorist watch list!) so when I heard that Incheon had a huge mall, I assumed I could probably find a drug store. Nope. I can find 5 liquor and cigarette shops and plenty of trendy boutiques but a regular place to buy sunscreen? I guess that will have to wait for Beijing. Of course, my Hotel room has some toothpaste so I can at least get my brush on. I couldn't even buy a fresh bottle of Polo Blue because I left by boarding pass back at the room - Duty Free is such a joke. Tax-free is all well and good assuming they don't double the price of the item.
Overall, I have to say that this is by far the cleanest and neatest airport I have ever been in. I had lunch at the food quart - I went for some traditional Korean food and as you can see from the photo - for 12 bucks its quite the meal! I now have to figure out what to do for dinner! What is surprising, however, is other than the fact that my waitress can't figure out that I want a Sprite and that she can bill it to room 114 (she has not returned - apparently I scared her off) this airport pretty much feels like it could be in any country in the world. The announcements are in Korean and I am certainly in the minority as a Caucasian but other than a few quirky things (I cannot find a single wall-outlet in my room nor anywhere else to charge my electronics) this is a much cleaner and nicer Airport. But it is still an Airport. See the cool photos below. Enjoy.
Sky Spa? What Sky Spa? Incheon Airport, August 1st, 2012
No sleep in 30 hours plus. Rented a "hotel" room in the Airport since the advertised Air Spa for 25 bucks is apparently outside of customs - meaning I can't go. This hotel room is wicked cool though - pictures to follow when I'm somewhat awake. It's 5:15am local time and my flight leaves in about 14 hours. My first impression of Asia? I'm really tired.
30-Plus Hours Trip + Compulsive Time Issues. July 29th, 2012. Evening before departure.
People who know me well know that I have a thing about time. I need to be on-time. It's probably my one compulsive trait. Gods know, I'm not compulsive about cleanliness or organization or anything like that but when I'm going to be at your house at 4:15, call the cops if I'm ten minutes late without a phone call or a text. Chances are, I'm dead.
I arrive on-time for virtually anything. If I don't, it means I will arrive shortly after the prescribed time and will do so flushed with panic. I need to be on time. I need to be ready.
So a trip involving air travel means that there is a hard and fast time to be ready and be there. My day tomorrow is all mapped out from a time perspective.
I had originally believed my flight left Tuesday at the witching hour of 12:30am (Sorry, I just offended a few of my Wiccan friends) so I planned accordingly. I'm all packed of course, so other than putting my laptop and iPad with matching charging equipment into my backpack, I don't need to worry about that. I have to work until 12:45pm tmrw so when I get home, I will try to sleep from 2pm to around 6pm. If I get up at 6 that give me plenty of time to shower, shave, dress and generally wait around for Tom to come get me at 8pm at which point I will go with Tom and get some food.
We will then drive to JFK. Normal traffic to JFK would put us there at approx 10pm if you assume 30 minutes for a dinner locally and an hour and a half travel time. That would place me at JFK 2 hours and 30 minutes before take-off. That's actually 30 minutes less than TSA recommends so I'm living on the edge with that. If we hit traffic, I still have a 1 hour cushion and on a Monday night how much traffic will we hit? If we do hit traffic, I will start panicking.
The thing is I think a lot about this crap. I would arrive at the airport hours before my flight-time regardless of any regulations and sit in the terminal constantly checking the time. How many times on my drive to work in the morning do I compute the time left and what time I will arrive at school? I would tell you the number but it would freak you out. I have issues. You do not even want to guess the number of times tomorrow that I will check to make sure my passport and boarding pass is ready and in order.
The thing is, and I think other people with an obsessive-compulsive tendancy will agree with me on this - it is all actually sort of fun in a sick and perverse way. I just looked up the map of JFK's terminals so I know where I will be going and what the structure will look like. Good news! Korean Air is in Terminal One and it is the first set of gates.
Oh, and the BEST part about the plan? I just RE- confirmed my flight information and it turns out that Flight 86 from JFK To Seoul Icheon departs the gate at 12:50am on Tuesday. That gives me an additional 20 minute cushion. Whew!
I arrive on-time for virtually anything. If I don't, it means I will arrive shortly after the prescribed time and will do so flushed with panic. I need to be on time. I need to be ready.
So a trip involving air travel means that there is a hard and fast time to be ready and be there. My day tomorrow is all mapped out from a time perspective.
I had originally believed my flight left Tuesday at the witching hour of 12:30am (Sorry, I just offended a few of my Wiccan friends) so I planned accordingly. I'm all packed of course, so other than putting my laptop and iPad with matching charging equipment into my backpack, I don't need to worry about that. I have to work until 12:45pm tmrw so when I get home, I will try to sleep from 2pm to around 6pm. If I get up at 6 that give me plenty of time to shower, shave, dress and generally wait around for Tom to come get me at 8pm at which point I will go with Tom and get some food.
We will then drive to JFK. Normal traffic to JFK would put us there at approx 10pm if you assume 30 minutes for a dinner locally and an hour and a half travel time. That would place me at JFK 2 hours and 30 minutes before take-off. That's actually 30 minutes less than TSA recommends so I'm living on the edge with that. If we hit traffic, I still have a 1 hour cushion and on a Monday night how much traffic will we hit? If we do hit traffic, I will start panicking.
The thing is I think a lot about this crap. I would arrive at the airport hours before my flight-time regardless of any regulations and sit in the terminal constantly checking the time. How many times on my drive to work in the morning do I compute the time left and what time I will arrive at school? I would tell you the number but it would freak you out. I have issues. You do not even want to guess the number of times tomorrow that I will check to make sure my passport and boarding pass is ready and in order.
The thing is, and I think other people with an obsessive-compulsive tendancy will agree with me on this - it is all actually sort of fun in a sick and perverse way. I just looked up the map of JFK's terminals so I know where I will be going and what the structure will look like. Good news! Korean Air is in Terminal One and it is the first set of gates.
Oh, and the BEST part about the plan? I just RE- confirmed my flight information and it turns out that Flight 86 from JFK To Seoul Icheon departs the gate at 12:50am on Tuesday. That gives me an additional 20 minute cushion. Whew!
Absurdity, July 23rd, 2012. One week until departure.
Cat not included
I got it again today as I received a pedicure. "China?" This from a 16 year old Korean-American girl up the street.
"Why does everyone always ask that?"
"My friend got lost in China; she said it was gloomy." Was her reply.
So the pedicure was Freda's idea. Freda is pictured above. When I mentioned my to-do list included getting my calluses professionally shaved at a podiatrist she laughed and said, "It's twenty-five dollars, get some Asian women to do it." So I added to my iPhone note's list - "pedicure." My feet feel great.
"You want clear?" The girl asked.
"Uh, no." My feet feel great.
I'm proud of myself. Other than powder, and packing my laptop, iPad, chargers, digital camera (it would be packed now but it needs a charge), my canvass cinch-belt, (love this thing), my sandals, and actually dressing myself in my pre-selected dressy clothes, I'm all set. Yeah, I said powder. You think I'm going to hike around in a humid subtropical forest without any damn powder?
I really planned this out well beyond the pedicure.
Guys, it was really really good. Totally worth $26.50 with tax. Don't go for the polish though. Unless you really want to I guess.
Today I picked up mini-toiletries, a fresh inhaler, a folding toothbrush, every minor drug I think I might need including a big bottle of CVS's version of Imodium. Does the CVS brand stuff really work AS well? I have never been totally convinced.
I bought a pair of shorts at...Sears. That is big for me. These are China shorts. They are lightweight and comfortable. They will be pretty much all I wear in China. I bought a dummy wallet to keep handy cash in that can be stolen if someone digs into my front pocket. I sought out a money belt. If you have never worn a money belt - a new experience for me today - I'll have you know it is actually an undergarment. You can't pay for something out of a money belt. It's underwear. I've already put my passport, plane tickets and identification in the money belt. I still need to add a shrunken copy of my itinerary in there and probably some important phone numbers.
I packed 2 tee-shirts and a polo. I packed a raincoat. Because they tell me it RAINS in Southeast Asia in the SUMMER. I packed six pairs of socks. For volume, socks and underwear are the largest component of my luggage. I packed a sweat-absorbing baseball cap because for those of you who know me, I sweat. A lot. And it's not because I'm fat, although I'm sure it doesn't help. It's because I sweat. A lot. For that same reason I bought a string that keeps your glasses on. I also got my glasses adjusted because I stepped on them a few weeks back.
So that is really it. I'm packing very light. I want to have room to bring stuff back. So my crazy plan is this. I'm wearing a nice outfit because Brother David always said,
"When you fly, gentleman, you dress well. You want to be seen as someone deserving good treatment." He said something like that. So I've always dressed well on planes and you know what? It is damn good advice. Gotta love the Catholic Church for that. So I will be at the gate in a dress shirt and a fedora. This outfit will also serve as my fancy going out to posh places outfit since, if you are going to Shanghai alone, you should probably visit a few posh places. The BEST part about this thought is that I can travel in this outfit, so I don't need to pack it. See, I'm always thinking. No mussed up dress shirt. If it gets dirty it can get laundered in my hotel. I'll fly with it.
See those two bags in that picture? They are empty! I'm bringing socks and over-the-counter-pharmaceuticals to China in large quantities.
This post is absurd. Why would anyone care about my packing genius? The fact that I'm packed right now astounds me.
"Why does everyone always ask that?"
"My friend got lost in China; she said it was gloomy." Was her reply.
So the pedicure was Freda's idea. Freda is pictured above. When I mentioned my to-do list included getting my calluses professionally shaved at a podiatrist she laughed and said, "It's twenty-five dollars, get some Asian women to do it." So I added to my iPhone note's list - "pedicure." My feet feel great.
"You want clear?" The girl asked.
"Uh, no." My feet feel great.
I'm proud of myself. Other than powder, and packing my laptop, iPad, chargers, digital camera (it would be packed now but it needs a charge), my canvass cinch-belt, (love this thing), my sandals, and actually dressing myself in my pre-selected dressy clothes, I'm all set. Yeah, I said powder. You think I'm going to hike around in a humid subtropical forest without any damn powder?
I really planned this out well beyond the pedicure.
Guys, it was really really good. Totally worth $26.50 with tax. Don't go for the polish though. Unless you really want to I guess.
Today I picked up mini-toiletries, a fresh inhaler, a folding toothbrush, every minor drug I think I might need including a big bottle of CVS's version of Imodium. Does the CVS brand stuff really work AS well? I have never been totally convinced.
I bought a pair of shorts at...Sears. That is big for me. These are China shorts. They are lightweight and comfortable. They will be pretty much all I wear in China. I bought a dummy wallet to keep handy cash in that can be stolen if someone digs into my front pocket. I sought out a money belt. If you have never worn a money belt - a new experience for me today - I'll have you know it is actually an undergarment. You can't pay for something out of a money belt. It's underwear. I've already put my passport, plane tickets and identification in the money belt. I still need to add a shrunken copy of my itinerary in there and probably some important phone numbers.
I packed 2 tee-shirts and a polo. I packed a raincoat. Because they tell me it RAINS in Southeast Asia in the SUMMER. I packed six pairs of socks. For volume, socks and underwear are the largest component of my luggage. I packed a sweat-absorbing baseball cap because for those of you who know me, I sweat. A lot. And it's not because I'm fat, although I'm sure it doesn't help. It's because I sweat. A lot. For that same reason I bought a string that keeps your glasses on. I also got my glasses adjusted because I stepped on them a few weeks back.
So that is really it. I'm packing very light. I want to have room to bring stuff back. So my crazy plan is this. I'm wearing a nice outfit because Brother David always said,
"When you fly, gentleman, you dress well. You want to be seen as someone deserving good treatment." He said something like that. So I've always dressed well on planes and you know what? It is damn good advice. Gotta love the Catholic Church for that. So I will be at the gate in a dress shirt and a fedora. This outfit will also serve as my fancy going out to posh places outfit since, if you are going to Shanghai alone, you should probably visit a few posh places. The BEST part about this thought is that I can travel in this outfit, so I don't need to pack it. See, I'm always thinking. No mussed up dress shirt. If it gets dirty it can get laundered in my hotel. I'll fly with it.
See those two bags in that picture? They are empty! I'm bringing socks and over-the-counter-pharmaceuticals to China in large quantities.
This post is absurd. Why would anyone care about my packing genius? The fact that I'm packed right now astounds me.
Pictures of far flung VT - A test of posting pictures on this site. Enjoy.
The Visa, July 16th, 2012. Still this side of the International Date Line.
On my list of things to do, the final was getting my actual Visa for China. For some reason, I chose not to pay an extra fee and mail my passport off to some random but reputable company and let them secure my Visa. Instead, I decided it would be a better use of my time to go right to the Chinese Consulate in New York, pictured at left. (I stole the picture because I was too lazy or thoughtless to take a picture myself).
The Consulate itself is huge, but the public entrance for Visas is very limited. The walls were stark white marble. The room contains one large piece of art - an orange, yellow and green mural on the far wall made of glass. The people behind the glass counters wore white surgical gloves and there was ample disinfectant back there. Were they that afraid of germs or was this some subtle message? No smiles. These were mostly young - mid 20's Chinese women dressed in something that seemed like a uniform but wasn't. The guard outside had been American it seemed, yet he had a very foreign way about him. What IS this place? The line was long, and the majority of people were Asian but there were a few Caucasians like me in line.
Everyone had their documents out. To my horror everyone had typed them! The sign said that the application needs to be downloaded from the website and "typed" in all capital letters. I had assumed that the word "typed" was a mis-translation of "written" but apparently I was the only fool who did not take it literally.
I took the train to NY with Adrienne, and so I had arrived at Grand Central around 9:15 - a bit late for my obsessive-compulsive need to be on time. I got in line around 9:50 or so at the Consulate and by the time I reached the young, attractive woman behind the bullet-proof glass wearing surgical gloves, it was 10:35.
"I can get it later today, right?" I asked.
"No. You can pick up Monday or you can pick up Thursday for twenty more dollars." Five minutes late. I could not argue. Not with the press of people behind me. She was good, this government functionary. The environment itself and her attitude had completely prevented me from even thinking to say,
"Oh, come on! It's 10:35." with a smile or, "Oh really?" - sad face - "I was really hoping to pick it up later today.." These would have been my usual responses. Instead I thankfully took my receipt and fled.
On my return visit I vowed to show these functionaries proper respect. I would greet the man or woman with a "Ni Hao" using the proper tonal inflections and when he/she handed me my visa I would say "Shie Shie" with that tonal uptick that sounds more like "She Sheaaa!"
Of course, then I was confronted with a mistranslated sign saying, "Pickup Slip Drop off". At this window, I handed the woman my receipt and she handed me a number. I had no idea what to do. She said, "Line 8" and ushered me away. Line 8 went quickly even though it was dreadfully long. In part, because these people are so good at preventing any sort of interest in conversation. Finally encountering my third and final functionary of this voyage, I handed over my chip silently and took my passport with a quick, "Thanks."
I dropped off my plate at DMV the other day. The joke I've always used and way I've always explained Communist (i.e. Totalitarian) Bureaucratic systems has been to use the oft heard analogy about the DMV and a country run by it.
Our DMV in CT has nothing on the Chinese. I actually had a brief conversation with the lady at the DMV and a joke to top it off.
What have I gotten myself into?
The Consulate itself is huge, but the public entrance for Visas is very limited. The walls were stark white marble. The room contains one large piece of art - an orange, yellow and green mural on the far wall made of glass. The people behind the glass counters wore white surgical gloves and there was ample disinfectant back there. Were they that afraid of germs or was this some subtle message? No smiles. These were mostly young - mid 20's Chinese women dressed in something that seemed like a uniform but wasn't. The guard outside had been American it seemed, yet he had a very foreign way about him. What IS this place? The line was long, and the majority of people were Asian but there were a few Caucasians like me in line.
Everyone had their documents out. To my horror everyone had typed them! The sign said that the application needs to be downloaded from the website and "typed" in all capital letters. I had assumed that the word "typed" was a mis-translation of "written" but apparently I was the only fool who did not take it literally.
I took the train to NY with Adrienne, and so I had arrived at Grand Central around 9:15 - a bit late for my obsessive-compulsive need to be on time. I got in line around 9:50 or so at the Consulate and by the time I reached the young, attractive woman behind the bullet-proof glass wearing surgical gloves, it was 10:35.
"I can get it later today, right?" I asked.
"No. You can pick up Monday or you can pick up Thursday for twenty more dollars." Five minutes late. I could not argue. Not with the press of people behind me. She was good, this government functionary. The environment itself and her attitude had completely prevented me from even thinking to say,
"Oh, come on! It's 10:35." with a smile or, "Oh really?" - sad face - "I was really hoping to pick it up later today.." These would have been my usual responses. Instead I thankfully took my receipt and fled.
On my return visit I vowed to show these functionaries proper respect. I would greet the man or woman with a "Ni Hao" using the proper tonal inflections and when he/she handed me my visa I would say "Shie Shie" with that tonal uptick that sounds more like "She Sheaaa!"
Of course, then I was confronted with a mistranslated sign saying, "Pickup Slip Drop off". At this window, I handed the woman my receipt and she handed me a number. I had no idea what to do. She said, "Line 8" and ushered me away. Line 8 went quickly even though it was dreadfully long. In part, because these people are so good at preventing any sort of interest in conversation. Finally encountering my third and final functionary of this voyage, I handed over my chip silently and took my passport with a quick, "Thanks."
I dropped off my plate at DMV the other day. The joke I've always used and way I've always explained Communist (i.e. Totalitarian) Bureaucratic systems has been to use the oft heard analogy about the DMV and a country run by it.
Our DMV in CT has nothing on the Chinese. I actually had a brief conversation with the lady at the DMV and a joke to top it off.
What have I gotten myself into?
Launching of the Trip Blog, July 8th 2012. This side of the international date line.
Everyone whom I tell, "I am going to China," asks me why. People don't ask why someone would go to Bermuda, or Hawaii. Because that's vacation.
When I was fourteen, our Spanish and French classes planned their annual trip to France and Spain and I begged my parents to let me go. I didn't like Spanish class. I don't speak Spanish but I knew that there would be knights in France and Spain as well as castles. I was hardly disappointed but I came away from that two week trip with a new nickname-but more importantly a profound awe at the sheer size and scope of our world and a burning passion for its history. I stood in the square in front of Notre Dame cathedral where according to legend, King Clovis had cleaved in the head of one of his own disobedient clansmen - at fourteen that kind of story sticks.
Singing our national anthem in a greenhouse/bar on the Arbat in Moscow, along with a cadre of new Russian friends singing their own national song with our momentary French enemies singing La Marseillaise, opened my eyes to another side of travel. Here was an adventure mixed with history. Not only did I shamble by Lenin's body, but I smoked Russian cigarettes in front of the Bolshoi Ballet on a cold January night with a dancer named Igor whose most pressing desire was to know how many beers were on tap in a bar in Boston. In Soviet Russia, the beer drinks you! I came away from Russia with a real sense of the place. My intense study of my Soviet enemy had turned into a respect and fascination with a different culture. I never did learn the language but the experiences from that trip and the stories I have from those bitter cold January days and long subarctic nights will never leave me.
Ireland was a bit tame for my tastes. Everyone spoke English, after all but I reasoned that given my roots at least partially come from that place - and they talk funny I figured it would be worth another overseas trip. While I can't say Ireland opened my eyes wider about the world, I can say that it confirmed what I already knew. People were the same everywhere. Speeding through the streets of Dublin in Julie's 3rd cousin's husband's Mazda 626 (the largest car in Dublin that day, I am sure of it) and getting that first hand tour from a life long Dubliner was well worth the trip.
So why not a cruise? Why not the Bahamas? Because a beautiful beach scene and a warm sunny day by the pool is nice for about 2 days. I can vacation at my house, honestly. Vacation to me equals relaxation and not working. Travel and vacation are two very different things. One goes on a journey to China, one does not go on vacation to China. Of course, if one chooses to go to a Chinese resort or spa for 2 weeks, that would be vacationing in China I suppose but that is besides the point. I am going on a journey to Asia. A controlled journey, yes, but one in which I aim to do anything but relax.
So that's why I am going to China. And that is why I'm making this blog. Hopefully the stupid thing works when I'm in China - because they block the internet and stuff.
When I was fourteen, our Spanish and French classes planned their annual trip to France and Spain and I begged my parents to let me go. I didn't like Spanish class. I don't speak Spanish but I knew that there would be knights in France and Spain as well as castles. I was hardly disappointed but I came away from that two week trip with a new nickname-but more importantly a profound awe at the sheer size and scope of our world and a burning passion for its history. I stood in the square in front of Notre Dame cathedral where according to legend, King Clovis had cleaved in the head of one of his own disobedient clansmen - at fourteen that kind of story sticks.
Singing our national anthem in a greenhouse/bar on the Arbat in Moscow, along with a cadre of new Russian friends singing their own national song with our momentary French enemies singing La Marseillaise, opened my eyes to another side of travel. Here was an adventure mixed with history. Not only did I shamble by Lenin's body, but I smoked Russian cigarettes in front of the Bolshoi Ballet on a cold January night with a dancer named Igor whose most pressing desire was to know how many beers were on tap in a bar in Boston. In Soviet Russia, the beer drinks you! I came away from Russia with a real sense of the place. My intense study of my Soviet enemy had turned into a respect and fascination with a different culture. I never did learn the language but the experiences from that trip and the stories I have from those bitter cold January days and long subarctic nights will never leave me.
Ireland was a bit tame for my tastes. Everyone spoke English, after all but I reasoned that given my roots at least partially come from that place - and they talk funny I figured it would be worth another overseas trip. While I can't say Ireland opened my eyes wider about the world, I can say that it confirmed what I already knew. People were the same everywhere. Speeding through the streets of Dublin in Julie's 3rd cousin's husband's Mazda 626 (the largest car in Dublin that day, I am sure of it) and getting that first hand tour from a life long Dubliner was well worth the trip.
So why not a cruise? Why not the Bahamas? Because a beautiful beach scene and a warm sunny day by the pool is nice for about 2 days. I can vacation at my house, honestly. Vacation to me equals relaxation and not working. Travel and vacation are two very different things. One goes on a journey to China, one does not go on vacation to China. Of course, if one chooses to go to a Chinese resort or spa for 2 weeks, that would be vacationing in China I suppose but that is besides the point. I am going on a journey to Asia. A controlled journey, yes, but one in which I aim to do anything but relax.
So that's why I am going to China. And that is why I'm making this blog. Hopefully the stupid thing works when I'm in China - because they block the internet and stuff.