China

Kindred Spirits in Quindao

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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Walking by the Foreign Language Bookstore in Quindao, just up the street from my comfy clean hotel room that a tout from the railroad station led me to…80 yuan she says..that’s about $10..I look in to see what they have in English. Most of the books are in Chinese…the English selection is tiny with dreadful choices and high prices. Just then I see the first westerners I have seen in Quindao walk in…where are you from, I ask…from the Gold Coast of Australia…oh, I find Australians everywhere…yes, she laughed…we manage to find our way all over the world! These women have just arrived from Shanghai where they participated in the masters section of an international dragon boat competition. One, Tye, is a nurse…the other, Leah, a school janitor. Dragon boat racing, they said, originated in China but is very popular in Australia.

Are you alone, they ask. When I say yes, their eyes light up…oh good, then would you like to come with us? Of course I jump at the chance. I show them where the internet cafe is that I had walked all over town looking for and finally found that morning by accident as there was no sign on the outside of the building. And I give them a card for the hostel I stayed at in Beijing which delighted them no end.

We have dinner together…the women pass up tubs of all kinds of shellfish to choose from on the sidewalk in front of tiny restaurants with only two or three tables…and finally choose to have “hot pot” that sits on top of a flame with your choice of all kinds of fish from the sea…a dozen different kinds of clams, little crab, shellfish we have never seen before, various unknown kibbles and bits, leafy vegetables, thin sliced mutton or pork, as much as you could eat for 29 yuan or about $6. One of the women is a bit nervous about all the unknown bits…but we laugh it off and make a complete mess on the table…the big Chinese group at the next table finding our clumsy adventure quite funny.

The next evening they showed up at my hotel door….we just showed the Chinese girls at the desk downstairs “big hair” they said…and the girls immediately knew who they were looking for…besides the fact of course, that we were all westerners…we must all know each other! They shared some wonderful chewy sweetened dried fish with me and needed me to show them how to do email so off we went out into the evening again.

My last evening in Quindao, at a 4 star hotel coffee shop, I invite the friendly waiter who has been letting me use the hotel’s free WIFI with my laptop to have dinner with me…seafood soup and jousa (dumplings)… before he has to go to his university classes at 7pm. Jack is his English name given to him by his English teacher and I find myself wishing Chinese English teachers would get a little up-to date with the English names they hand out. Jack, Han Chinese, is from Urumqi in the largest and most western province in China…Xinjiang…which has a majority of muslim Turkic speaking people. His family still lives there. He is 23 but says he is not a good student. I ask why and he says he likes sports…he would rather play American football! I say, what!! He says it’s a sport young people like but his parents don’t. I say, yes, I understand! I ask if he plays basketball and mention Yao Ming’s name…he dismisses Yao…”oh, if I were 7 feet tall I would be famous too!”

I let Jack order…he is anticipating a soup with “all kinds of shellfish from the sea” but when it comes it’s basically an eggflower soup with only a few little bits of shrimp and clam. He looks disappointed and I realize he has never done this before. The soup is only 6 yuan…less than a dollar. But Jack only makes $200 a month and I wonder what this skinny kid eats every day. At his bus stop we shake hands with lingering looks and he invites me to come back to Quindao again.

I have a hard sleeper booked on the train today at 1:30. I will arrive in Shanghai tomorrow about 9 am when I will book a dorm bed for 100 yuan…about $12. Right now this hotel I am in is celebrating a wedding with drums and a funky dragon made of balloons. The dragon lies down and the groom carries her over it and into the elevator…the ceremony will continue downstairs.

Pissing Match & Fast Food

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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Yesterday, off the train in Quin Dao, the station workers weigh by bags and want to charge me money…for having my baggage on the train! I get my back up and refuse the scam. The guard slams the gate so I can’t leave the station so shaking my head no, I turn around and take my luggage back down the platform from when I came…not knowing where I’m headed but hoping there is another way out. They relent…probably to keep from having a scene with a foreigner…thankfully.

This seaside “small” city of 7 million used to be controlled by the Germans who started the TsingDao Brewery here and there are some early turn of the century German architecture mixed in with glass and steel standing against the beautiful beaches of the Yellow Sea that I can see from my $10 a night hotel window. I see an English sign, “New Era Book Supermarket” high above a McDonalds and if I want I can round the corner and satisfy my craving for greasy chicken at the KFC, although there is no more greasy food in the world than in China.

These fast food places are ubiquitous in Asia and filled with locals who love them…not because they are American but because of the food….no different than at home. I never could figure out why at home a meat patty on a plate with some lettuce and tomatoes with salad dressing with a roll on the side is ok but let McDonalds put it all together and call it a big mac and you would think the sky was falling in. Besides, without McDonalds in China where would all the westerners go for a clean sit-down toilet?

I am in an internet cafe with at least a couple hundred computer terminals about a half a block up from the railroad station…with mostly young well-dressed Chinese guys playing video games. Don’t they have a job? Last night I left my leather jacket here and figured it was toast but when I came in this morning the friendly internet lady handed me my coat with a smile. I profusely thanked her with bowed head and folded hands. Today is cold but the sky is clear and I think I’m going to take a tour bus to see what there is to see.

Overnight Train to Xuindao

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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Xuindao is also spelled Quindao

From Beijing, I take an overnight train alone to Quindao. Quindao is a weekend getaway for well-to-do Communist party cadres and the train is brand spanking shiny new. As I struggle to get my heavy baggage up to the ceiling storage area, I hear a compassionate “help” over my shoulder from one of my travel companions who otherwise seems to speak no English. He thankfully comes to my rescue.

I am in a “soft sleeper” with four beds…the only beds left in the cheaper “hard sleeper” with six beds were on the top bunks and it’s hard enough for me to negotiate the second bunk let alone a third that gives you only a nose full of room to breath. My three impeccably dressed compartment travelers are friendly and gracious…no strong-smelling instant noodles and piles of snacks, sunflower seed shells and chicken bones to litter the room one end to the other…no hacking and spitting…even a flat screen tv monitor showing cartoons.

When I figure out how to tell them I am from America (no one ever knows what I’m talking about when I say I’m from the States or the U.S.) A vail falls ever so slightly over the eyes…they don’t want to admit they don’t know where I am from.

Coffee Taxis & New Friends

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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I take a taxi to the upscale Lufthansa shopping center in Beijing to see if a bookstore had the Lonely Planet “Shanghai.” They didn’t of course…there were a few Lonely Planets but none on China…guess they don’t want the locals to know what everyone else in the world knows about China. The books in English I’ve mostly seen in China are western classics…Shakespeare etc. Surely they don’t think western tourists are going to buy these??? And I think it must be a real slog for a Chinese learning English.

Then, thinking it’s going to be awhile before I see ground coffee again, I find my way to the indoor mall-the Oriental Plaza- with exclusive European and Asian shops to buy some Starbucks Sumatra even though I don’t buy Starbucks ready-made coffee to drink…ever…anywhere….because they charge the same ridiculous high prices in the third world that they charge in the States.

American shops seem to be limited to Starbucks and Apple Computer. The ground coffee in Mongolia neither tasted nor smelled like coffee and I looked forward to escaping the mad traffic, tucking under the fluffy Chinese comforter in my cozy room and soothing myself with a cup of jo while listening to “The Twelve Girls Band” a Chinese crossover folk/pop group that is all the rage in Beijing and reading Pico Iyer’s latest travel stories.

But it’s late Friday afternoon and the traffic is horrendous. Cars will run you over as well as look at you…in fact there is an article in the current “Beijing Today,” the English language expat rag, about a taxi driver that was fined $20,000 (which he will never be able to pay) for killing a woman. Headline: “Driver Ordered To Pay Up After Killing Wayward Pedestrian.” A law put into effect last May requires a driver “to do all he can to avoid the pedestrian and ensure her safety.” The National People’s Congress Standing Committee is quoted by “Beijing Youth Daily” as saying the law shows that legislators care about the lives of pedestrians. Yeah right! Since when is the individual in China important? They better care if they don’t want to wipe out half a dozen unsuspecting tourists during the Olympics!

I try to get a taxi in the street near the Grand Hyatt Hotel to take me to the hutung but they all refuse so I retreat to the Hyatt lounge bar a couple hundred steps up from the street to buy an International Herald Tribune, have a whisky and people watch while waiting out the rush hour…only a handful of white westerners…all the rest are Asians from who knows where.

Finally about 7 pm I try getting a taxi again. If I’m not getting refused then the Chinese are jumping in ahead of me…I try to do it faster but they still beat me to the door…I watch and try to figure out how the heck they do it…this crowding stuff is difficult to get used to. I am starting to get concerned. The last taxi I took got lost bringing me home and took me to the wrong hotel! Then three young people in their 20’s walk up and ask where I’m from. The US I say, wondering what the scam is now. But no scam…at least for me. They are waiting in front of the Hyatt to find an American to practice English…our teacher is Chinese so we get bad pronunciation they say…and we want American not British accent…English is very important, one says authoritatively…but understanding the culture is even more important. When I tell them I have to read subtitles when I watch British movies they all laugh.

They have all finished with university. They are from poor Guanxi Province where their families still live. If we know English, they say, we can get a good job. None of us have eaten so I ask them to walk me across the street to a cheap noodle restaurant and we each have a bowl of soup and a soft drink and they tell me all about themselves until late into the night.

The restaurant closes so Rose and Will and Keven (their English names) talk a taxi driver into taking me home in my hutung and they ride along to give the driver directions. They really groove on the hostel situation…look at all the English speakers…right in the middle of a hutung…and we’ve been going to the Hyatt! We hug our goodbyes and promise to email each other…practice practice we say.

Tiananmen Square

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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I had read that Tiananmen was the biggest square in the world. However, Mao’s huge Mausoleum takes up about a third of the square…almost right in the middle…so the area doesn’t seem all that imposing. Then I remember…don’t expect…just accept.

We passed up the viewing of the wax body. As I was gawking and wandering around trying to get a fix on where all the students were and where the tanks rolled into the square that day in 1989, I was approached by three young people who wanted to know if I was interested in viewing the student exhibits in the institute across the street. Having had experiences like this before (it’s a hard sell to “support a poor starving artist'” I turned the conversation…”we in the world have not forgotten 1989.” I said sympathetically. “Neither have we,” one of the boys said. But the girl who was leading the approach was not to be deterred…she was only six, she said, and then dismissed the remark saying that her parents would remember but they don’t want to talk about it.” When pressed again and I said I would visit the art exhibit another day, that was the end of the conversation. So much for student activism…the hustle yields the short term gain…sometimes but not this time.

Great Days Great Wall

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E found the website (www.wildwall.com) and the adventure offered intriguing potential…off the beaten track, away from the Chinese tourist groups that follow a guide with a microphone and colored flag held high in the air to designate location. After two short emails to William, arrangements were easily made and in the lobby of our Beijing guesthouse I met with the driver (No English) who carried a placard for “Mr. Bob.” After smiles and incomprehensible introductions his black auto carried us through a three-hour adventure negotiating Beijing traffic…bikes, pedestrians, tractors, donkey carts all navigate the same lanes, avenues, freeways where the basic rule is ” Bigger Has The Right of Way.” As throughout Asia, good brakes, good horn and good luck prevails.

My understanding was that we were to pick up another couple but as we finally exited Beijing for the countryside I began to make an alternative plan if perhaps this was an abduction…the imagination can wonder…

We finally entered mountain terrain and the pavement ended. After another 20 minutes we arrived at a small village surrounded by hills We parked and I carried backpack uphill to a courtyard surrounding a small idyllic farmhouse. There was evidence of other foreigners. William casually came out of the farmhouse and introduced himself. An Aussie couple, attired in the hippest of trek fashion had already arrived and they and I completed our trekking group. Subsequently I appreciated their humor, enthusiasm and good cheer and we shared good times and laughs.

After being shown my room, the first of many superb meals was served. Lily was William’s Chinese helper and sous chef…fresh trout in a spicy (picante) sauce. After the meal Schnapps was offered (an acquired taste I guess) and I learned that William was in his late forties, formerly from Liverpool England, but has lived in China for the past 15 years. He has a Chinese spouse and two sons. He is a former long distance runner, who because of his fascination with the Great Wall as a child, later decided to run it’s length. After an initial abortive try he was subsequently able to run most of the wall in the early 1990’s and it has since become his passion. He has authored several books, spear-headed environmental efforts and has become the local expert/personality/guru of all things Great Wall. On our hikes, whenever we were passed by local Chinese hikers he would be recognized and asked to pose for pictures. His affect was such that he always obliged with a smile and some Mandarin conversation.

For the next two days we arose at 5 a.m. and took off in darkness for a 4-6 hour trek that included a significant climb up to the Great Wall and then excursions for varying lengths of time on top of the wall. We were able to stand on the wall and observe the sunrise. Along the way there would be frequent stops for short antidotes or explanations of various aspects of the wall–its history, construction, functions etc.

The Wall was initially started in about 400 BC and continued until the Ming Dynasty (approximately 1600 AD). It was built in sections to protect the Han Chinese from the Northern nomads (Mongolian and Manchu). Initial construction was at points of obvious invasion routes…river valleys…and through the years the Wall was extended up the sides of the valleys and across mountain ranges. It is not one continuous structure but various branches meander and double back. Initial construction was simple but later architectural efforts became more sophisticated.
In c. 220 B.C., under Qin Shi Huang, sections of earlier fortifications were joined together to form a united defence system against invasions from the north. Construction continued up to the Ming dynasty (1368–1644), when the Great Wall became the world’s largest military structure. Its historic and strategic importance is matched only by its architectural significance and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The areas we traversed were constructed of large carved stones, kilned bricks and morter which contained rice. As well as security, the Wall was used for storage, shelter and as a highway. It varied in width from two yards to 10 yards. In the area we were in, there has been no restoration and time and erosion have caused crumbling in many parts with an overgrowth of vegetation both on the sides and on top. It would seem that any minor earthquake could produce serious additional damage. William said his ecologic efforts have produced minimal results to date and he has been happy just to see that his efforts have caused fewer Chinese to litter. Ideally it would seem that stabilization against future damage without restoration would be the way to proceed. But the Wall is so long (estimates vary from 7000 to 10,000 kilometers) that total protection is impossible.

On descent: as frequently happens on hikes there is time for thought, reflection and subsequent contentment…and coming off the Great Wall of China in brisk warm autumn days a few magical to mystical moments. On one occasion while walking solo I heard leaves rustling in the trees –only a few colored leaves remained on each tree. Looking up the leaves would twirl on one tree then sequentially on another– like a self-conducted symphony—only in China. When I asked William whether his operation had reached a size sufficient for an assistant he replied, “I think I will see you again.”

Hutongs in Beijing

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Quin-dynasty Beijing was redesigned with mazes of mud and brick walled courtyards after Genghis Khan’s army reduced the city to rubble and is “now the stomping ground of a quarter of Beijing’s residents. According to Lonely Planet, those that stay in hutong pooh pooh the dubious charms of the city’s new high rises claiming that hutong preserves a powerful sense of togetherness where everyone helps each other out…as the Chinese say “close neighbors are better than distant relatives.”

A foreign tour group to Beijing during the 2008 Olympics will be driven down smooth recently-built wide boulevards where these hutong are fronted by glass and steel with no idea of what lay behind. A glimpse across the city reveals thousands of cranes…a building for each…against a grey smog-filled sky. Just before we got to Beijing the Chinese were marking the 40th anniversary of the estalishment of diplomatic ties by celebrating the French Cultural Year in China and a joint French-Chinese fly-over by stunt pilots had to be cancelled because of lack of visibility.

For many hutong, the Olympic bid was the kiss of death…get here before the next phase of road-widening schemes again reshape the city, says Lonely Planet.

Far East Youth Hostel

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The last time I was in China it was freezing cold in January 2003. The weather is fantastic this October day in 2004.

After slogging it out across Russia and Mongolia, we soak up creature comforts at the friendly Far East Youth Hostel located among the back alleyways of one of Beijing’s ancient hutongs where young backpackers pick the cheap dorm rooms next to the self-catering kitchen and laundry room in the basement and we, of course, choose a double room upstairs with all the Chinese tourists for about $25.

Downstairs is a “coffee bar” featuring a wide screen TV for viewing one of scores of dvd movies, three high speed internet terminals and a book case full of tattered novels and old travel guides.

Several tables of travelers share experiences and information…one with an Israeli guy trying to explain his country’s posture regarding Palestine to a couple of doubting Norwegians (Europe is generally pro-Palestine which is one reason the Europeans have trouble with the U.S.)

The compound includes a courtyard across the alley with a budget restaurant where I tried to order soy sauce in Mandarin (chiang yo) and got rice instead because of the tone I used.

On the back end of the courtyard are even cheaper dorms housing mostly young male West Europeans. After setting up the tiny computer speakers and coffee pot we step outside the doors of the cozy hostel and find ourselves dodging old men on bicycles between humming dumpling shops and cheap clothing stores blasting Chinese hip-hop and techno. At dinner we laugh at the English menu…among the choices are “Hot Pot of Old Duck With Chinese Medicine” and “Soup Of The Ox Reproductive Organs.” This is as good as it gets. If home is where the soul likes to be…I am there…at least for now.

And then…Bob packed up…and left.

No Chinese Visa In Germany

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Today we try to get our China visa in Berlin, but were refused because we weren’t Germans. It was suggested by the Chinese embassy that we could get a visa in Hong Kong, but since our trans siberian tickets had us entering China from Mongolia, this presented a dilemma: without the visa the alternative would be to take a plane from Ulaan Baator Mongolia to Hong Kong and then back into mainland China. We decide to wait and see if we can get the visa en route…maybe Prague.

Zhangziajie

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Bob and I said goodbye to Jana who would leave later in the day on a train to Shanghai and then home from Hong Kong. The next day we took a train to Zhangjiajie in Hunan Province.

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At the Dragon International Hotel Coffee shop…Little Santas and Christmas trees hanging everywhere…like Cinco de Mayo at home…no one knows what the day really celebrates but it is an excuse for a party…Kenny G on the stereo as usual…Old Lang Syne and Winter Wonderland. Our waitress, Liu Wen Qin, is a smiling friendly 19 year old…”excuse me, can I ask you some questions?”…absolutely we say…where are you from…where is your tour group…you are by yourselves? And we quickly become friends. She is from Hubei Province near Yichang…has two sisters one of whom she lives with in a room costing 120 yuan a month ($15) with the husband of her sister and five year old child…the child having a heart condition, she said. When she gets off work at 11am she leads us to the bus that will take us to Zhangjiajie Village in the Wulingjuan Scenic Park about 40 minutes away…by ourselves we never would have found the bus, one of many that all look alike.

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The Park is truly stunning with craggy cliffs and columns rising out of sub-tropical growth…the winter fog sitting low in the narrow canyons-a place that would be wonderful for hiking in the summer. Lonely Planet said the best hotel in the village was Minzu Shanzhuang, a thatched, Tujia-run (a Chinese minority group) hotel…but this was winter and it had snowed the night before. We buried ourselves under blankets and hot water bottles because the heater was lousy…and quit altogether during the night…

Back in Zhangjiajie City early the next morning we stumbled off the bus to the welcome-warm smile of Liu Wen Qin at the Dragon International Hotel Coffee Shop…glad for a place to park ourselves for the day until the train for Guangzhou at 6pm. We walked the streets awhile…a bookstore…Diary of Johann D. Rockefeller sitting right next to a book about Mao Tse Tung….in the window Bill Gates” Theories of Management and “How To Win Friends And Influence People.”

Since it was winter and hardly anyone was in the hotel, we spent most of the afternoon speaking English with Liu Wen Qin…Bob teasing her and loving it when, laughing delightedly, she finally catches on. He’s good at flirting with Asian girls 😉 When it was time to leave we paid the bill and by the time we had our backpacks on she had disappeared…the rumor that the Chinese hate to say goodbye apparently true…my throat getting a catch as I write this.

We settled in for what Lonely Planet said was a 24 hour train ride south back toward Hong Kong in a hard sleeper. But 6am the next morning, after only 12 hrs, we were awakened by the train attendant…we are here, she said…Guangzhou…Guangzhou!

After a night in Hong Kong we flew to the Philippines to warm up on a beach. Then we flew back to Hong Kong to catch our flight back to the States.

This is the end of our first year of travel around the world.