Here's a very detailed itinerary of our week in Beijing. We realize nobody will read this. Please don't, it's far too detailed. For the edited story, read the earlier post, "stuck inside of mobile...".
Monday
--Check out of hotel
--Swarm the Bank of China as it opens. Wait for young men with shotguns (or grenade launchers?) to load the bank with cash. Go in and take number. Stand in line. Exchange money.
--Arrive at languid Vietnamese Embassy. Ask questions of very nice lady.
--Arrive at Laotian Embassy. Ask questions of exceedingly kind and gentle man.
--Baotzu and noodle soup with cilantro and nameless meat--17 Quai
--Back to Vietnamese Embassy. Pay for visa and hand over passport.
--Old man on street invites us to his home, offers us a room after demonstrating shower and aircon. Polite decline. Move on. Walk past enormous video screen.
--Check into new hotel
--Eat hotpot and draft beer; get minor traveller's diarrhea
--Goodnight
Tuesday
--Sleep in
--Visit market. Jim buys cheap tennis shoes and ethically questionable t-shirt
--More traveller's diarrhea
--Walk mile to subway stop. Take subway
--Visit Beijing East Train Station. Visit "24 Hour English Speaking" window. Instructed in Mandarin to go to West Train Station.
--Take subway, walk .5 mile.
--Visit Beijing West. Visit "English Speaking" window. Student in line translates and instructs us to go to nearby hotel by bus station for Hanoi ticket.
--Visit three separate hotel offices. Walk through formation of soldiers drilling kung fu. They lunge. We laugh. They laugh, commander not happy.
--Office we need closed. Neighbor writes down office hours, 9-5.
--Limp toward station. Walk. Eat. Walk. Subway. Cab. Hotel.
--Goodnight
Wednesday
--Pay too much for coffee (most likely decaf)
--Pick up visa at Vietnam Embassy!
--Revisit bank, wait in line
--Revisit West Train Station "9-5" office. Wait two hours for it to open.
Meet an Austrilo-Brit fellow who just finished an auto rally from London to China. Ozzy Osbourne's son, Jack, was in another car filming a British reality show. In Mongolia, they blew up Jack's car with a tank. Also met an Irish couple starting a one-year trip.
--The office opens and the woman tell us the train to Hanoi is booked for over a week. Only one ticket left, which goes to the crazy Austrilo-Brit fella. He's a lawyer, by the way.
--We go to West Station looking for tickets to cities in the south. Several windows, several queues. No luck. We hear of a travel service by the East station.
--Walk. Lunch. Subway. Old-school Beijing bathroom (trench behind cinder blocks).
--We arrive at travel service as the man is literally turning the sign to "closed". They assure us we can get a domestic train ticket there at 8:30AM.
Thursday
--We arrive at 8:30. They tell us they don't sell domestic train tickets. Or international train tickets. Or air tickets. What the hell do they do?
--Find coffee shop with Internet. Pay too much for coffee and then research options.
--Go to East Train Station. Search for English offices.
Stand in three short lines, redirected to other lines.
Stand in line. Man tells us wrong line. Stand in another line. Line disappears.
Stand in another line, make friends with meteorology student. Finally make it to window, very nervous. Man tells us to go to another line. We ask about other cities, he offers a ticket to Guilin. We're unsure, we bolt. Leave Chinese phrase book behind. Book stolen.
Go to another line. Unknowingly cut in line. Tickets sold out for many days.
--Leave station in frustration
--Try to find another travel service in a fancy International Hotel. Falsely polite lady contradicts everything we've learned so far. Reckon we didn't look worthy her time.
--Regroup. Screw our courage to the sticking post. Return to wacky train station and stand in previous line awhile, buy some damn tickets to Guilin, figuring we'll make it to Vietnam later.
--Feel elated at our accomplishment. Eat Jaotza, drink beer, blog. Long train ride early tomorrow.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
The Workers
On nearly any street here in Beijing, you'll find a skyscraper rising, a building being razed, a new facade attaching to an existing structure. These Chinese construction scenes are an other-worldly sight. I have been fascinated with the workers for years.
They are gaunt, sinewy men in thin street clothes. Most wear traditional cloth slippers and army-surplus pants or pleated khakis, often rolled up to the knee. A few wear hard hats. Many are old, or appear to be--creased skin and rounded shoulders. Others look barely teenaged. At night, some sleep on the sidewalk under corrugated tin and tarpaulins. Others sleep in bunkbeds on the jobsite, I assume working in shifts 24 hours a day. Sometimes they ride the subway with bedrolls and washbins, eyeing the Beijingers in slick blazers and sundresses.
The workers are often quiet and meek in public, like countyfolk in the big city. Many of these workers are probably from the interior. For all of it's growth and glory, China suffers from a serious urban/rural, coastal/interior disparity. I've talked with at least one educated Chinese who thinks this inequality will be China's undoing.
The massive construction projects in Beijing are veiled behind fences and green netting --entire city blocks of green as high as you can crane your neck. The workers move behind these veils. Sometimes a thousand pings can be heard as they pick with hammer and chisel--much of this work is done by hand. Sometimes I see men move along the tubular scaffoldings, often without plank-boards. Smaller construction projects are done on the open street. I shield my own eyes from the welders and protect my own face against splinters from the sledgehammers. Saturday, Bonnie and I ate at a restaurant where we walked around dirt piles and building materials, past the arc-welder and under the scaffolding to enter the building. While we ate at the window, sparks fell from grinder above.
Tuesday night in the train station I saw a young man alone and awkward in the station, crouching in an ATM cubicle like it was a haven. He was splattered to the knee in mud and was obviously a worker. He seemed disoriented among the Beijingers. Probably some foreman or relative told him to stay put for awhile.
If I were a smarter and more diligent man, I'd find access and photograph their world.
(posted by Jim)
They are gaunt, sinewy men in thin street clothes. Most wear traditional cloth slippers and army-surplus pants or pleated khakis, often rolled up to the knee. A few wear hard hats. Many are old, or appear to be--creased skin and rounded shoulders. Others look barely teenaged. At night, some sleep on the sidewalk under corrugated tin and tarpaulins. Others sleep in bunkbeds on the jobsite, I assume working in shifts 24 hours a day. Sometimes they ride the subway with bedrolls and washbins, eyeing the Beijingers in slick blazers and sundresses.
The workers are often quiet and meek in public, like countyfolk in the big city. Many of these workers are probably from the interior. For all of it's growth and glory, China suffers from a serious urban/rural, coastal/interior disparity. I've talked with at least one educated Chinese who thinks this inequality will be China's undoing.
The massive construction projects in Beijing are veiled behind fences and green netting --entire city blocks of green as high as you can crane your neck. The workers move behind these veils. Sometimes a thousand pings can be heard as they pick with hammer and chisel--much of this work is done by hand. Sometimes I see men move along the tubular scaffoldings, often without plank-boards. Smaller construction projects are done on the open street. I shield my own eyes from the welders and protect my own face against splinters from the sledgehammers. Saturday, Bonnie and I ate at a restaurant where we walked around dirt piles and building materials, past the arc-welder and under the scaffolding to enter the building. While we ate at the window, sparks fell from grinder above.
Tuesday night in the train station I saw a young man alone and awkward in the station, crouching in an ATM cubicle like it was a haven. He was splattered to the knee in mud and was obviously a worker. He seemed disoriented among the Beijingers. Probably some foreman or relative told him to stay put for awhile.
If I were a smarter and more diligent man, I'd find access and photograph their world.
(posted by Jim)
A Nod to Tom Greer
Of course, Jim and I wouldn't be in China if not for our dear Tom Greer.
Dr. Tom Greer, as many of you know, first came to China in the 80's and developed a relationship with a lot of people and places here. He spread his love of China like a lot of his colleagues spread the gospel. He travelled here over fourteen times before his untimely and tragic death last fall. But before that horrible incident, he introduced many students to this culture, and in turn, permanently affected all of us.
He was larger than life. I felt his presence when I touched down in Beijing.
Dr. Tom Greer, as many of you know, first came to China in the 80's and developed a relationship with a lot of people and places here. He spread his love of China like a lot of his colleagues spread the gospel. He travelled here over fourteen times before his untimely and tragic death last fall. But before that horrible incident, he introduced many students to this culture, and in turn, permanently affected all of us.
He was larger than life. I felt his presence when I touched down in Beijing.
Change and Observation II
More Changes:
1. Staring and spitting etiquitte. Both still occur, but now, most starers look away upon eye contact and spitters aim for the trash can.
2. A nascent punk rock scene among Beijing youth.
3. Pet dogs and cats. Lots of middle and upper age Chinese are out walking pets in the streets. In 2002, the only dogs I saw in the street were being led to slaughter for the Chinese to eat.
Non-changes:
1. Chinglish. (see previous posts)
2. Chinese men's pants and the way they wear them.
3. Delicious food!
4. Wild traffic/pedestrian flow. (Beijing's a place where an old lady can help YOU cross the street.)
1. Staring and spitting etiquitte. Both still occur, but now, most starers look away upon eye contact and spitters aim for the trash can.
2. A nascent punk rock scene among Beijing youth.
3. Pet dogs and cats. Lots of middle and upper age Chinese are out walking pets in the streets. In 2002, the only dogs I saw in the street were being led to slaughter for the Chinese to eat.
Non-changes:
1. Chinglish. (see previous posts)
2. Chinese men's pants and the way they wear them.
3. Delicious food!
4. Wild traffic/pedestrian flow. (Beijing's a place where an old lady can help YOU cross the street.)
Adventures in Chinglish, Part 2
This morning, after a breakfast of "Bimbo Bread", we spotted a lovely lady in a "No solid liquid?" t-shirt, not far from her pal in the "happy cute pig" top. Then, we spotted a rock n' roll fan in a "Tool" t-shirt. Upon closer examination, however, we read, "Not the band, I'm just a tool".
Later, we shopped at the "Modern Bazaar of Originality" because the banners outside promised a "large charge of capturing" and a "pleasenty surprise at groping". Inside, we found a funny geek mask that explained, "Each kit of tooth thing of the big in simpleton". Tempting sales pitch, but we passed.
We'd had enough of the "flourishing, high-sensitivity life" so we ruminated awhile on ancient Chinese wisdom displayed on the streets, such as "Sometimes it's good to put all your eggs in one basilet", "protect circumstance begins with me", and the universal "I believe, therefore I insist."
All this thinking had us tuckered so we considered staying in the hotel that promised "reckon by time having a rest" and "the incense is fumigated".
We were knocked senseless, however, when we saw a respectable, middle-aged man with a wife and three children wearing a white shirt that declared, "I am a proud student of the kama sutra".
The backside was an added bonus: "I practice with my secret lover".
Now, how do you beat that?
Later, we shopped at the "Modern Bazaar of Originality" because the banners outside promised a "large charge of capturing" and a "pleasenty surprise at groping". Inside, we found a funny geek mask that explained, "Each kit of tooth thing of the big in simpleton". Tempting sales pitch, but we passed.
We'd had enough of the "flourishing, high-sensitivity life" so we ruminated awhile on ancient Chinese wisdom displayed on the streets, such as "Sometimes it's good to put all your eggs in one basilet", "protect circumstance begins with me", and the universal "I believe, therefore I insist."
All this thinking had us tuckered so we considered staying in the hotel that promised "reckon by time having a rest" and "the incense is fumigated".
We were knocked senseless, however, when we saw a respectable, middle-aged man with a wife and three children wearing a white shirt that declared, "I am a proud student of the kama sutra".
The backside was an added bonus: "I practice with my secret lover".
Now, how do you beat that?
Stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again
Boy, have we had a time gettin' out of Beijing! We're still here, but we've got tickets to ride. Two tickets to Guilin, to be exact. It's been a long time comin'.
We got here Thursday. Once we got our legs under us on Friday, everything was closed for the weekend. We needed access to banks and embassies and Beijing is one of the few places to get visas for Vietnam and Laos. So, we took the weekend off, touring around the city and visiting old haunts.
But since Monday, we've put in our 9-to-5 figuring everything out. And by everything, I mean: where to get visas and how much they cost; conversion rates (Dollar to RMB to Dong to Baht); train tickets, fares, routes, costs and times; navigation within Beijing; travel agencies and their locations; and, um, the language barrier. Shouldn't a lot of this info be in English on the internet? Not so. China's blasting its way into the 21rst century but a lot of it still works on paper and face-to-face transactions.
And the train stations! Oh, the train stations! They are notoriously chaotic, aggressive and unitelligble to foreigners. The queques are a mosh-pit, English is virtually non-existent and the halls are an echo chamber of barking amplifiers and hollering Chinese. In 2000, Jim saw a grown western man brought to tears after trying to buy a train ticket. Yesterday, we saw a western woman teary-eyed. Today, we saw a white man literally pulling his hair in frustration. What a mess.
For instance, if you just want to check on a train that doesn't leave from the main station, you've got to go to another station, wait in a very long line, shove past the people who've shoved past you, and spit out your mandarin in hopes of an answer while the people behind you get progressively pissed-off. Most likely, the answer will be: Go to another line and start over.
Enough on that. I digress.
Don't get me wrong, we don't want to leave China, we just want to escape from Beijing.
Beijing is the center of Chinese dogmatism, nationalism, and Mao iconography. The government's hand is heavy here. From my previous Chinese travels, I've learned things get more relaxed the farther you go from Beijing. Neither Jim nor I has seen Vietnam or Laos, but we've heard and read that they're both easier-going and possibly easier to get around in. We've been trying to head south for several days now.
Our main problem has been the direct train to Hanoi. It only leaves on Sundays and Thursday and it's booked until next Thursday, September 6. That would be another week in Beijing! So, we have figured the fastest way out is a train to a border city in the south. It's not Vietnam, but it's closer than Beijing. And that's why we bought the ticket for Guilin today, which went over swimmingly. We leave in the morning.
We've got a hard sleeper and nothin to lose.
We got here Thursday. Once we got our legs under us on Friday, everything was closed for the weekend. We needed access to banks and embassies and Beijing is one of the few places to get visas for Vietnam and Laos. So, we took the weekend off, touring around the city and visiting old haunts.
But since Monday, we've put in our 9-to-5 figuring everything out. And by everything, I mean: where to get visas and how much they cost; conversion rates (Dollar to RMB to Dong to Baht); train tickets, fares, routes, costs and times; navigation within Beijing; travel agencies and their locations; and, um, the language barrier. Shouldn't a lot of this info be in English on the internet? Not so. China's blasting its way into the 21rst century but a lot of it still works on paper and face-to-face transactions.
And the train stations! Oh, the train stations! They are notoriously chaotic, aggressive and unitelligble to foreigners. The queques are a mosh-pit, English is virtually non-existent and the halls are an echo chamber of barking amplifiers and hollering Chinese. In 2000, Jim saw a grown western man brought to tears after trying to buy a train ticket. Yesterday, we saw a western woman teary-eyed. Today, we saw a white man literally pulling his hair in frustration. What a mess.
For instance, if you just want to check on a train that doesn't leave from the main station, you've got to go to another station, wait in a very long line, shove past the people who've shoved past you, and spit out your mandarin in hopes of an answer while the people behind you get progressively pissed-off. Most likely, the answer will be: Go to another line and start over.
Enough on that. I digress.
Don't get me wrong, we don't want to leave China, we just want to escape from Beijing.
Beijing is the center of Chinese dogmatism, nationalism, and Mao iconography. The government's hand is heavy here. From my previous Chinese travels, I've learned things get more relaxed the farther you go from Beijing. Neither Jim nor I has seen Vietnam or Laos, but we've heard and read that they're both easier-going and possibly easier to get around in. We've been trying to head south for several days now.
Our main problem has been the direct train to Hanoi. It only leaves on Sundays and Thursday and it's booked until next Thursday, September 6. That would be another week in Beijing! So, we have figured the fastest way out is a train to a border city in the south. It's not Vietnam, but it's closer than Beijing. And that's why we bought the ticket for Guilin today, which went over swimmingly. We leave in the morning.
We've got a hard sleeper and nothin to lose.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Change and Observation
We may sound like we're complaining and laughing a lot about the Chinese but, let me tell you, we are in awe of them as well. As I've said, the changes in Beijing since I first came in 2000, then revisited in 2003, are unbelievable. The progress is disorienting. Entire city blocks-previously hosting parks, hotels, retaurants-have been demolished and rebuilt. Sometimes I think my memory's playing tricks on me but even the guidebook (published this year) leads us to places that have been leveled.
It's hard to articulate the change in the landscape and culture, so I'll make a list in no particular order:
1. Taxi drivers don't cheat us anymore. Their cars are all snazzed up and clean. Some of them are driving Volkswagon Jettas.
2. There are public toilets every few blocks! And the smell of human waste is found only within designated bathrooms! The only people allowed to use streets as toilets are the babies (they wear open britches instead of diapers.)
3. More English everywhere. On signs, phone cards, in taxis, shops, hotels, restaurants, etc...
4. The new architecture is beautiful, some of it based on "green" principles. (Yesterday, we stumbled on a colossal canopy about five stories high and a block long with a cantilevered video screen as big as two basketball courts. On both sides of this structure were western boutiques and coffee shops. Jim and I felt like yokels bumbling around in a cosmopolitan landscape.)
5. Foreigners are everywhere! Used to, you'd only find them in their designated areas and seeing one on a bike was a huge deal. Now, they're in every part of town we've visited and most of them look and act like they know the ropes.
6. Women are smoking more. When I taught here in 2002, smoking was clearly a man's luxury. Women who smoked were either old or promiscuous. I know this isn't a good change, but it means something for women.
7. Women's attire is not as conservative as before. I brought clothing that amply covers my knees, bust and arms. Boy, do I look like a school marm next to the young girls in sundresses and tight pants! A lot of young women look sophisticated and intimidatingly stylish, with full makeup, hair and accessories.
Things that haven't changed:
1. Elderly people are astonishingly active, riding bikes and pushing through the streets and public transport with the rest.
2. Water, streets and air still dirty.
3. The Chinese still possess a simplicity and sweetness. Friends hold hands or put arms around one another while walking.
4. Endless and seemingly arbitrary levels of paperwork and beaurocracy in any and every given situation.
There are more, I'm sure. But I stop here.
All in all, China's a beautiful, hopeful place that's important in our modern world.
It's hard to articulate the change in the landscape and culture, so I'll make a list in no particular order:
1. Taxi drivers don't cheat us anymore. Their cars are all snazzed up and clean. Some of them are driving Volkswagon Jettas.
2. There are public toilets every few blocks! And the smell of human waste is found only within designated bathrooms! The only people allowed to use streets as toilets are the babies (they wear open britches instead of diapers.)
3. More English everywhere. On signs, phone cards, in taxis, shops, hotels, restaurants, etc...
4. The new architecture is beautiful, some of it based on "green" principles. (Yesterday, we stumbled on a colossal canopy about five stories high and a block long with a cantilevered video screen as big as two basketball courts. On both sides of this structure were western boutiques and coffee shops. Jim and I felt like yokels bumbling around in a cosmopolitan landscape.)
5. Foreigners are everywhere! Used to, you'd only find them in their designated areas and seeing one on a bike was a huge deal. Now, they're in every part of town we've visited and most of them look and act like they know the ropes.
6. Women are smoking more. When I taught here in 2002, smoking was clearly a man's luxury. Women who smoked were either old or promiscuous. I know this isn't a good change, but it means something for women.
7. Women's attire is not as conservative as before. I brought clothing that amply covers my knees, bust and arms. Boy, do I look like a school marm next to the young girls in sundresses and tight pants! A lot of young women look sophisticated and intimidatingly stylish, with full makeup, hair and accessories.
Things that haven't changed:
1. Elderly people are astonishingly active, riding bikes and pushing through the streets and public transport with the rest.
2. Water, streets and air still dirty.
3. The Chinese still possess a simplicity and sweetness. Friends hold hands or put arms around one another while walking.
4. Endless and seemingly arbitrary levels of paperwork and beaurocracy in any and every given situation.
There are more, I'm sure. But I stop here.
All in all, China's a beautiful, hopeful place that's important in our modern world.
Adventures in Chinglish
Yesterday, on the way to the "Beijing Camera General Factory Shop", we passed by the "Sweet smelling village stylish restaurant." Along the way, we saw a young man in a "nautical preppy" polo and his companion in the "queer queen junk rockers" sun dress.
I stopped at the bathroom and was sure to obey the sign to "stretch your hands" before leaving. A young lady's shirt begged for "Yo Nore War!" and a government sign encouraged, "In order of humanities, create an authority in certain field." How true.
We were considering an evening at "The Song and Dance Troupe of General Political Department" but decided instead to dine at the "amuseful happy customer easy meal" restaurant beside another eatery that assured us, "old Beijing rinses the meat".
Bonnie was relieved to know that the "Sunny Lady Gynecology Hospital of Beijing" was down the street by the "Chinese Sexology Association". (We prefer this to the "No Holiday Hospital". I imagine a night there certainly is no holiday.)
Speaking of sex, we passed several stores for "Adult Care, Sex Care, Medicine for Stimulating Sexual Appetite and Artificial Sexual Instruments". They sell medicines like "Ant King Pills for Virax Penis" and "An Artillery [pill] does all night!" We can also, if we feel so inclined, purchase an inflatable "occidental countess" for uses I don't want to share here.
(written by Jim)
I stopped at the bathroom and was sure to obey the sign to "stretch your hands" before leaving. A young lady's shirt begged for "Yo Nore War!" and a government sign encouraged, "In order of humanities, create an authority in certain field." How true.
We were considering an evening at "The Song and Dance Troupe of General Political Department" but decided instead to dine at the "amuseful happy customer easy meal" restaurant beside another eatery that assured us, "old Beijing rinses the meat".
Bonnie was relieved to know that the "Sunny Lady Gynecology Hospital of Beijing" was down the street by the "Chinese Sexology Association". (We prefer this to the "No Holiday Hospital". I imagine a night there certainly is no holiday.)
Speaking of sex, we passed several stores for "Adult Care, Sex Care, Medicine for Stimulating Sexual Appetite and Artificial Sexual Instruments". They sell medicines like "Ant King Pills for Virax Penis" and "An Artillery [pill] does all night!" We can also, if we feel so inclined, purchase an inflatable "occidental countess" for uses I don't want to share here.
(written by Jim)
Losin' Face All Over the Place
Well, we had a few bad days. Not bad as in sickness, robbery or trouble with the law. Just scams and lost face. Our bright happy hotel didn't stay that way for the three nights we were there. An 18 dollar laundry bill is what started all the trouble. Then, when we tried to change some money to pay for the laundry and "deposits" at the hotel, we were told it could only be done at one bank and couldn't be done on Saturday if we were exchanging traveler's checks. So, we had to hold out till Monday and quit living like kings for a day and a half. We had to take public transport and keep the extras (internet, beer, phone use, etc...) to a minimum.
Now, in China, this does not mean that we couldn't eat like kings. The Chinese take great pride in their food, and for good reason. It's cheap and delicious. (We had Szechuan-style tofu and garlic cabbage on Saturday night. O the spices on that tofu! And the grand total was 24 Quai, or approximately 3 dollars.)
And beyond the money troubles, we ran into bargaining blunders of all sorts. A gaunt pedicab driver tricked $2.40 out of us, in front of his buddies. We bought a small pocket-watch for $2.25 when it should have been maybe $1.25. And, of course, the laundry. We thought it was 14 Quai, less than two dollars. But that must have been per item. Or something. We never figured it out clearly. And, we dropped nearly $10.00 on a soupy, sub-par dinner, including $2.40 for water!
You may think we're making a big fuss over a few dollars but it's about more than money. It's about losing face. The Chinese like food and opera and all that but they also like squawking and haggling over pocket change--making a deal. All our errant transactions happened in front of crowds and those crowds saw us as big, dumb outsiders who don't speak Mandarin getting steamrolled and not knowing how to stop it. (It's our own fault, really. If we had practiced our Mandarin before the trip, we'd be keener travelers.)
We're getting better now. We figured out the problems were: 1) Staying in the wrong part of town. 2) Not being mean enough. 3) Not enjoying the haggles and compromise.
Yesterday, we decided to be proactive about things. We moved to a cheaper hotel in a different part of town. Ironically, this is the embassy part of town but we're getting better deals on everything. After we checked in, made jokes with a playful staff and ate a divine dinner of hotpot, things sure seemed to be changing. See, on Sunday, Jim left his favorite cap in a cab. Last night a guy on the street tried to sell us a fitting replacement. The haggler's initial offer was three hats for 50 Quai. Jim talked him down to one hat for 5 Quai. And Jim didn't hand over the cash till the guy first handed over the change.
Although small, it was a defining moment for us both. Hopefully, we're figuring things out again.
Now, in China, this does not mean that we couldn't eat like kings. The Chinese take great pride in their food, and for good reason. It's cheap and delicious. (We had Szechuan-style tofu and garlic cabbage on Saturday night. O the spices on that tofu! And the grand total was 24 Quai, or approximately 3 dollars.)
And beyond the money troubles, we ran into bargaining blunders of all sorts. A gaunt pedicab driver tricked $2.40 out of us, in front of his buddies. We bought a small pocket-watch for $2.25 when it should have been maybe $1.25. And, of course, the laundry. We thought it was 14 Quai, less than two dollars. But that must have been per item. Or something. We never figured it out clearly. And, we dropped nearly $10.00 on a soupy, sub-par dinner, including $2.40 for water!
You may think we're making a big fuss over a few dollars but it's about more than money. It's about losing face. The Chinese like food and opera and all that but they also like squawking and haggling over pocket change--making a deal. All our errant transactions happened in front of crowds and those crowds saw us as big, dumb outsiders who don't speak Mandarin getting steamrolled and not knowing how to stop it. (It's our own fault, really. If we had practiced our Mandarin before the trip, we'd be keener travelers.)
We're getting better now. We figured out the problems were: 1) Staying in the wrong part of town. 2) Not being mean enough. 3) Not enjoying the haggles and compromise.
Yesterday, we decided to be proactive about things. We moved to a cheaper hotel in a different part of town. Ironically, this is the embassy part of town but we're getting better deals on everything. After we checked in, made jokes with a playful staff and ate a divine dinner of hotpot, things sure seemed to be changing. See, on Sunday, Jim left his favorite cap in a cab. Last night a guy on the street tried to sell us a fitting replacement. The haggler's initial offer was three hats for 50 Quai. Jim talked him down to one hat for 5 Quai. And Jim didn't hand over the cash till the guy first handed over the change.
Although small, it was a defining moment for us both. Hopefully, we're figuring things out again.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Pursue to be Remarkable
This city has changed drastically since I was here in 2000. The airport is a glitzy cosmopolitan place that looks newer and cleaner than a lot of airports in the states. When I was here in 2000, it was a dingy disorganized open room. The subway in 2000 was a surreal single line moving back-and-forth along a few stops. We rode it for fun. Now, it's all pack and swirl as Beijingers commute across the city. At rush hour, you can hardly move your toes.
Olympic "slogans" are ubiquitous in Beijing now. Huge television screens display Jackie Chan giving bottles of water to sweaty athletes in slow motion as Muslim olympic observers celebrate their birthdays with Chinese citizens.
Jim and I snapped into an Asian travel mode upon arriving. It's as if somewhere in our minds, survival skills were established and filed away, ready for use at the moment of squatting on a toilet with no paper or fervently refusing rides in a pedicab or pushing through massive crowds of people. It's a rush.
The Chinese seem to thrive on conflict, chaos and high volume. (Old women selling fruit use battery-powered megaphones to scream pre-recorded slogans at pedestrians . Hawkers in booths set up sound systems to holler at customers a few yards away.) Although part of me looks desperately forward to languid Thai beaches and coffees and laid-back locals, another part of me thrives on the madness of this culture.
When we arrived night before last, we found a hotel close to Wanfujing (the big tourist street that halfway resembles Times Square). It was a darkly-lit hotel whose staff exemplified the seemingly arbitrary beaurocracy that is the Chinese foreign experience. The attendant filled out several sheets of paper after placing and re-placing carbon paper in a receipt book for at least three minutes while nonchalantly fingering through our passports. Simultaneoulsy, she took phone calls and barked orders to her co-workers. The place was dingy and had cockroaches. Needless to say, we checked out of the next morning and found a bright happy little hotel in a cramped hutong south of Tienamen Square--a process in which we walked about five miles, rode two lines of crowded subway and got scammed by a thin man with a bicycle taxi. (Of course, scams are everywhere. A bottle of beer cost between $.25 and $2.00, depending on how entrepenurial the seller feels.)
We are having a ball, me and Jim. Maybe it's sick, but we thrive on the fatigues of dirty air, language barriers and endless traffic. And the food is exquisite and cheap as ever.
We can't view the blog once it's posted--it's blocked here in China-- so we can't read your comments. But please post them anyway. When we get to Vietnam, we may be able to see them there. I know we can in Thailand. Also, we probably can't post photos or audio because the web browsers are Chinese. We post text from memory of which buttons to push.
O yes, and contrary to the New York Times articles, terrible Chinglish is alive and well in Beijing! Yesterday, Jim saw a t-shirt reading, "Learn. Play. Benign.".
Olympic slogans include, "Pursue to be Remarkable" and "Impossible is Nothing".
And on the smutty side of things, I saw an innocent Chinese guy wearing a shirt that proclaimed in bold letters, "Fucking Flake".
As long as it's English, it spells cool.
Olympic "slogans" are ubiquitous in Beijing now. Huge television screens display Jackie Chan giving bottles of water to sweaty athletes in slow motion as Muslim olympic observers celebrate their birthdays with Chinese citizens.
Jim and I snapped into an Asian travel mode upon arriving. It's as if somewhere in our minds, survival skills were established and filed away, ready for use at the moment of squatting on a toilet with no paper or fervently refusing rides in a pedicab or pushing through massive crowds of people. It's a rush.
The Chinese seem to thrive on conflict, chaos and high volume. (Old women selling fruit use battery-powered megaphones to scream pre-recorded slogans at pedestrians . Hawkers in booths set up sound systems to holler at customers a few yards away.) Although part of me looks desperately forward to languid Thai beaches and coffees and laid-back locals, another part of me thrives on the madness of this culture.
When we arrived night before last, we found a hotel close to Wanfujing (the big tourist street that halfway resembles Times Square). It was a darkly-lit hotel whose staff exemplified the seemingly arbitrary beaurocracy that is the Chinese foreign experience. The attendant filled out several sheets of paper after placing and re-placing carbon paper in a receipt book for at least three minutes while nonchalantly fingering through our passports. Simultaneoulsy, she took phone calls and barked orders to her co-workers. The place was dingy and had cockroaches. Needless to say, we checked out of the next morning and found a bright happy little hotel in a cramped hutong south of Tienamen Square--a process in which we walked about five miles, rode two lines of crowded subway and got scammed by a thin man with a bicycle taxi. (Of course, scams are everywhere. A bottle of beer cost between $.25 and $2.00, depending on how entrepenurial the seller feels.)
We are having a ball, me and Jim. Maybe it's sick, but we thrive on the fatigues of dirty air, language barriers and endless traffic. And the food is exquisite and cheap as ever.
We can't view the blog once it's posted--it's blocked here in China-- so we can't read your comments. But please post them anyway. When we get to Vietnam, we may be able to see them there. I know we can in Thailand. Also, we probably can't post photos or audio because the web browsers are Chinese. We post text from memory of which buttons to push.
O yes, and contrary to the New York Times articles, terrible Chinglish is alive and well in Beijing! Yesterday, Jim saw a t-shirt reading, "Learn. Play. Benign.".
Olympic slogans include, "Pursue to be Remarkable" and "Impossible is Nothing".
And on the smutty side of things, I saw an innocent Chinese guy wearing a shirt that proclaimed in bold letters, "Fucking Flake".
As long as it's English, it spells cool.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
...Crawlin 'Round the Bend
So it begins.
We started our journey in Jefferson City, Missouri--an unlikely starting-point for a journey to Beijing. The train station was a historic hotel near a botanical garden and the tracks themselves were reminiscent of sleepy Arkansas freight-train depots. The wonder waned, however, as we waited four hours for the late train.
Our fellow passengers were a varied lot. Four were parolees with their officers in tow. Those guys had nothing but paper bags, parole papers and pressed khakis. By the way they looked at the women, I realized they'd probably been locked up for a while. There were also pale, midwestern women with designer pillows and dignified single mothers with well-behaved children. And then there was the fellow with the cell-phone earbud who simply couldn't handle the delays. I think he used the blue tooth as an excuse to gesture wildly, yell and pace incessantly on the train platform and train aisles. Honestly, I don't think he had anybody on the line half the time.
He'd say: " I ain't NEVER takin' amtrak again as long as I live--and I don't care if I live to be NINETY!" And, "This is the train ride from HELL! The only worse thang would be a wreck!"
We listened to the details of his life for 7 hours--a $2,000 water bed with a canopy and mirrors, a mentally-handicapped daughter, a girlfriend, and a wife.
We also experienced the large-chested single mother who traveled with us the whole journey. She had a tremendous speaking voice that filled the entire train car with her life story, too. Apparently, her husband is in jail, but a mysterious "Bob" was waiting for her at home that evening. We heard long phone conversations with her incarcerated husband and Bob, among other friends, relatives and acquaintances. But, I have to hand it to her: she was a woman full of piss and vinegar, holding her own and caring for a child from the beginning to the end of the journey
All in all, we only arrived 4.5 hours late. We left Jefferson City at 2:30 instead of 10:30, making our arrival time in Chicago close to 1 am. From Columbia to Chicago, door-to-door, the journey lasted about 17 hours. How come China, India, Russia and Europe have better developed passenger train systems and the U.S. doesn't? Is the cause American individualism? Our highway system? Train track ownership?...
Our stay in Chicago has been lovely. Today we visited theological libraries, ate in regionally famous restaurants and tied up loose ends before our departure tomorrow. Our friends are fabulous hosts.
If you know me, you know I hate to fly. And for very good reason. But when we touch down, all the joutzu soup, squat toilets and crowded hutongs will make the flight worthwhile.
(composed by Jim and Bonnie)
We started our journey in Jefferson City, Missouri--an unlikely starting-point for a journey to Beijing. The train station was a historic hotel near a botanical garden and the tracks themselves were reminiscent of sleepy Arkansas freight-train depots. The wonder waned, however, as we waited four hours for the late train.
Our fellow passengers were a varied lot. Four were parolees with their officers in tow. Those guys had nothing but paper bags, parole papers and pressed khakis. By the way they looked at the women, I realized they'd probably been locked up for a while. There were also pale, midwestern women with designer pillows and dignified single mothers with well-behaved children. And then there was the fellow with the cell-phone earbud who simply couldn't handle the delays. I think he used the blue tooth as an excuse to gesture wildly, yell and pace incessantly on the train platform and train aisles. Honestly, I don't think he had anybody on the line half the time.
He'd say: " I ain't NEVER takin' amtrak again as long as I live--and I don't care if I live to be NINETY!" And, "This is the train ride from HELL! The only worse thang would be a wreck!"
We listened to the details of his life for 7 hours--a $2,000 water bed with a canopy and mirrors, a mentally-handicapped daughter, a girlfriend, and a wife.
We also experienced the large-chested single mother who traveled with us the whole journey. She had a tremendous speaking voice that filled the entire train car with her life story, too. Apparently, her husband is in jail, but a mysterious "Bob" was waiting for her at home that evening. We heard long phone conversations with her incarcerated husband and Bob, among other friends, relatives and acquaintances. But, I have to hand it to her: she was a woman full of piss and vinegar, holding her own and caring for a child from the beginning to the end of the journey
All in all, we only arrived 4.5 hours late. We left Jefferson City at 2:30 instead of 10:30, making our arrival time in Chicago close to 1 am. From Columbia to Chicago, door-to-door, the journey lasted about 17 hours. How come China, India, Russia and Europe have better developed passenger train systems and the U.S. doesn't? Is the cause American individualism? Our highway system? Train track ownership?...
Our stay in Chicago has been lovely. Today we visited theological libraries, ate in regionally famous restaurants and tied up loose ends before our departure tomorrow. Our friends are fabulous hosts.
If you know me, you know I hate to fly. And for very good reason. But when we touch down, all the joutzu soup, squat toilets and crowded hutongs will make the flight worthwhile.
(composed by Jim and Bonnie)
Friday, August 17, 2007
A Bang up Year
Usually at this time of year, I do a review of the past year of my life. Tomorrow's my birthday, but this year, I haven't thought more than twice about it. This is partly due to our impending move and departure. When we get on the train Monday that takes us to Illinois for the plane on Wednesday, we'll have nothing but the bags on our backs. That seems rather far away at the moment.
And all this transitory preparation is going on in our un-airconditioned upstairs apartment. So, you'd think a mid-day writing session in the library would be justified, but folks, I should be packing.
Enough on that, though. My birthday usually gets me thinking about the past year. And that thinking usually leads to melancholy thoughts on accomplishments or lack thereof in the last year. Then thoughts on aging, and well, dying. This year, if I've had a moment to think on it, everything's fine. I mean, I wrote a handful of songs, got a good start on writing an opera, buried my Daddy without losing my mind, and got married to Jim. That's a bang up year, if you ask me.
Maybe 28 will be boring as hell, but atleast I'm starting it with an "extended honeymoon" in Asia.
Asia. China. The Middle Kingdom. The mysterious Red East.
Not so mysterious anymore, right? China's in the spotlight every day, it seems. Four years have passed since I was there. I've heard the growth and change there is staggering. I can't wait to see how it has changed. And how it's stayed the same. I'm dying to try out my Mandarin again, eat some hot pot, sweat in the street, cool down with hot tea, fight the crowds, hold my own in the market, eat tasteless porridge early in the morning with locals, and bargain for a hotel room, among many many other things.
But it ain't just Mao country for me this time. Thailand awaits. And that's to follow Vietnam and Laos. All three are new to me. And I'll be with my darling husband, a man of many wonders, languages, various knot-tying skills, and gorgeous photos.
But for now, I'm back to the sweltering apartment for packing and organizing. Maybe a cold beer this afternoon?
And all this transitory preparation is going on in our un-airconditioned upstairs apartment. So, you'd think a mid-day writing session in the library would be justified, but folks, I should be packing.
Enough on that, though. My birthday usually gets me thinking about the past year. And that thinking usually leads to melancholy thoughts on accomplishments or lack thereof in the last year. Then thoughts on aging, and well, dying. This year, if I've had a moment to think on it, everything's fine. I mean, I wrote a handful of songs, got a good start on writing an opera, buried my Daddy without losing my mind, and got married to Jim. That's a bang up year, if you ask me.
Maybe 28 will be boring as hell, but atleast I'm starting it with an "extended honeymoon" in Asia.
Asia. China. The Middle Kingdom. The mysterious Red East.
Not so mysterious anymore, right? China's in the spotlight every day, it seems. Four years have passed since I was there. I've heard the growth and change there is staggering. I can't wait to see how it has changed. And how it's stayed the same. I'm dying to try out my Mandarin again, eat some hot pot, sweat in the street, cool down with hot tea, fight the crowds, hold my own in the market, eat tasteless porridge early in the morning with locals, and bargain for a hotel room, among many many other things.
But it ain't just Mao country for me this time. Thailand awaits. And that's to follow Vietnam and Laos. All three are new to me. And I'll be with my darling husband, a man of many wonders, languages, various knot-tying skills, and gorgeous photos.
But for now, I'm back to the sweltering apartment for packing and organizing. Maybe a cold beer this afternoon?
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