As I write this, my wife is burning up, and there’s nothing I can do about it. No Nyquil, no Lemon Tea, not even my precious Buckley’s is available. We are about to venture into the strange realm of Chinese medicine. It turns out that my wife’s Aunt (not sure if they are actually related, or if it’s another “family friend” aunt type thing) is a doctor, and she recommended some medicine that will help bring the fever down. My job is to periodically take her temperature and play Forest Nightingump while trying to nurse her back to health.
I know we’re all in this to help her get better, but I get the slight feeling that Mother-In-Law is treating this like a competition between the two of us. Who loves you more, your husband, or your mother? All I can really do is talk to my wife, run a needs analysis (thank you marketing 101) now and then and offer my love & support. Mother-In-Law has just entered the room with a pharmaceutical cocktail for my wife to swallow down. She took it like a soldier, but a few minutes later, I could hear her puking up the pills, along with anything else that was still inside her. She’s barely eaten anything, so I imagine she’s in pain right now. We all know what a dry-heave fells and sounds like. I imagine the best thing for her right now would be a good night’s sleep. She asked if I could lie down next to her. It would help her sleep. It’s only about 9:00, but I climbed into bed anyway. Maybe an early night would be good for me too. Couldn’t hurt.
I woke up at 6:30 the next morning and felt my wife’s forehead. She wasn’t feeling as hot, but her face looked kinda clammy. She came around, and I asked to take her temperature. We have one of those old school mercury thermometers, the kind you stick under your armpit. I got her a glass of hot water while waited 5 minutes for her armpit to perculate. When I checked the little glass vial, it read 38 degrees Centigrade. A little warm. Mother-In-Law was up now, and entered our room to check on her daughter. The exchanged a few words, and my wife told me she was going to see the doctor today, and I was to stay home. I don’t know if that was her decision or her mother’s, but either way I stayed put.
A couple hours later, they returned. My wife looked worse than before. “The took blood outta me,” she said weakly. I walked her to our room and helped her into bed. She fell asleep almost instantly. A few minutes later, the maid knocked on the door to tell us that lunch was ready. I just noticed I was starving. Amid all the medical melee, breakfast had slipped my mind. I helped my wife out of bed and suggested she eat something. After I give blood, they always give me cookies to help get the juices flowing again and all that. She had a small bowl of congee, a sort of mushy rice soup. She requested some ice cream, but her mother told her to avoid sweets. I fed her some vegetables, which I thought would help restore her iron, but mother gave me a scornful look. Only congee. Ahh well, mother knows best.
After we attempted to eat lunch, I helped my poor wife back to bed and tucked her in. She told me that she’s been sick 3 times so far in this young 2008. What could cause this sudden rash of sickness? She’s usually quite healthy. Guess what he doctor told her. The pollution is making her sick. They took a swab from her throat , which didn’t look good. It’s probably a result of the toxins in the air and water. That explains it. Vancouver is so nice and green, with a few old growth trees still kicking around, and tons of green space right in the city to help cleanse the air we breathe. I guess we’re lucky that the citizens stood up to industry there, and said “Put your mills somewhere else – not in our backyard.” Now that I think about it, my wife and I both got sick when we visited my parents in Saint John, NB too. Here in Harbin, the air quality is pretty bad, and once we get back to Vancouver, her chances for recovery will likely increase.
For now, she's sleeping away, and I’m just trying to give her some space. I’ve vacated the bedroom in favour of the living room, where ironically, I have a perfect view of the smoky skyline. I’ll keep you posted on the recovery efforts, but for now, I’ll thank you not to disturb the patient. Visiting hours are now closed. I’m just gonna sneak in and close the window. I think she’s had enough “air” for one day.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
The Big 5-0/ I'm feeling a bit restricted.
I just noticed that this blog hit 50 entries as of yesterday. I had originally set out to write 1 entry per day, but I guess I went a bit overboard with it. Once you lose your mind, it's difficult to find it again. I still have some time left before I head back to our Home & Native Land, so I just wanted to thank you Mr & Mrs Reader for coming along on this crazy journey with me.
One other thing I wanted to comment on was, well, comments. I have discovered that over here in China, there is quite a bit of censorship/restrictions when it comes to public internet use. I think this includes reading the blogs of private citizens, just in case they write something deflammatory towards the current government or say something that goes against the grain of Chinese society. That being said, I haven't been able to view my blog or any of the comments that are left. I can't even tell if I have comments (I hope I do) until I get back to Canada.
I heard a little story that, if you type certain words on MSN Messenger over here, they just vanish when you hit "Enter". For example, there was a Chinese politician who was suspected of accepting bribes, and escaped to Canada. Can't remember his name, but you may have heard of him. I haven't signed in to my messenger account once since arriving in China, for fear that somebody out there is monitoring my discussions. I'm even hesitant to use my personal email account. So, if you sent me an email and I haven't gotten back to you, please be patient and I'll contact you as soon as I get back. I don't have access to the internet every day, so I try to use my limited time to update this blog as often as possible. Writing an entry is no problem. I just can't tell if it's been "Edited" or not. Scary, no? Something we don't think of back in the true north strong and FREE.
So, thanks for reading, and maybe I'll go buy my blog a birthday cake or something. I'm gonna have to hold the candles up really close to that little fan in the back of the computer, but hopefully I won't get too much frosting on the flash drive.
One other thing I wanted to comment on was, well, comments. I have discovered that over here in China, there is quite a bit of censorship/restrictions when it comes to public internet use. I think this includes reading the blogs of private citizens, just in case they write something deflammatory towards the current government or say something that goes against the grain of Chinese society. That being said, I haven't been able to view my blog or any of the comments that are left. I can't even tell if I have comments (I hope I do) until I get back to Canada.
I heard a little story that, if you type certain words on MSN Messenger over here, they just vanish when you hit "Enter". For example, there was a Chinese politician who was suspected of accepting bribes, and escaped to Canada. Can't remember his name, but you may have heard of him. I haven't signed in to my messenger account once since arriving in China, for fear that somebody out there is monitoring my discussions. I'm even hesitant to use my personal email account. So, if you sent me an email and I haven't gotten back to you, please be patient and I'll contact you as soon as I get back. I don't have access to the internet every day, so I try to use my limited time to update this blog as often as possible. Writing an entry is no problem. I just can't tell if it's been "Edited" or not. Scary, no? Something we don't think of back in the true north strong and FREE.
So, thanks for reading, and maybe I'll go buy my blog a birthday cake or something. I'm gonna have to hold the candles up really close to that little fan in the back of the computer, but hopefully I won't get too much frosting on the flash drive.
Monday, March 3, 2008
March 2nd - She has the Flu, She has the Flute
I woke up early this morning to do some exercising. I have the benefit of a treadmill right here in our apartment, which has come in handy on this trip, what with all the rich food & booze I've been enjoying. I was careful not to make any noise as I got out of bed. I figured my wife could use a snooze, so I didn't want to wake her.
After my run, I went in to chack on Sleeping Beauty. She didn't look too well. As she sat up, she told me her stomach was bothering her, and she didn't feel like having breakfast. She's usually a good eater, so this worried me a bit. I told her to go back to sleep, and she followed my orders. Her forehead felt a bit hot, too. not a good sign. I wondered out loud if we should cancel our dinner plans for tonight, but she said she could battle through, and of course we had a flute recital she didn't want to miss. So, after her nap, we got ready to walk over to cousin's house where the concert was to be held. At first, I objected to leaving the house. My wife didn't look too well. But, she said she was fine and wanted some fresh air anyway. On the 5-minute walk, I found myself propping her up most of the way, my arms wrapped around her like a seatbelt.
We arrived at Cousin Clotheshorse's place, and Niecy was excited to see us. She looked different today. Something with her hair, I'm not sure. I'm no good at noticing things like that. She could have had a nose job for all I know. She greeted us with a smile, and led us into the living room, where she proudly assembled her long, silver flute. She got right to it & began playing. My god, she was good! She started off with a classical piece that I unfortunately didn't recognize, then a traditional Chinese piece, and finally, she told me that she was going to play the themesong from Titanic, "My Heart Will Go On". Now, I'm not a huge fan of Celyn Dion. Actually I find her chest-pounding and overacting a bit annoying, but through this shiny metal cylinder attached to this girl's lips, it sounded beautiful. I gave her a standing ovation. She looked so happy.
After the concert was over, we were rushed out the door to dinner at a nearby restaurant. Niecy looked a little nervous on the car-ride. She sat next to me in the car, and I noticed that her hand was shaking a little. "I liked your playing," I said. "Oh, thank you," she beemed. There. I think that took the edge off a little. In some ways, she is like a scared little girl trapped inside a young woman's body. She seems so unsure of herself, but she ought not to be.
Now, back to my ill wife. I felt so bad for her. "Maybe we should just go home," i said. "no, it's okay. i want to be here," she groaned. I thought she was just being polite. "Let's go home, honestly," I begged. But she just sat down at the table, not eating anything, all the while looking miserable. I tried to do the husbandly thing, you know offering her my jacket in case she was cold, topping up her water glass and offering to take her home, but she refused.
It turns out there was an alterior motive for this dinner. Mother-In-Law has some friends with a son around the same age as our niece, and she was just dying to play Cupid, and introduce them. i don't know how arranged marriages work, but this seemed very awkward. Bachelor #1 was carted in amid lots of handshakes and how-do-you-do's. The whole time I kept sneaking looks over at Niecy, to guage her reaction. She did not look herself. She was sitting extremely upright, and I think I saw her hands shaking again. Then, all of a sudden she got up and quietly assembled her flute. She was going to perform for us again! She said, in perfect English, "This is called My Heart Will Go On. It's Nathan's favourite." Only my wife and I understood her, so she said it again, in Chinese. She began playing with such gusto; moving gracefully with the sweet melodies. She was owning this performance, and making her uncle proud! We all clapped, and when she returned to her seat, I gave her a high-five.
All throughout dinner, there was a strange feeling in the air. Bachelor #1 barely looked at his "date" during her performance, and the two hadn't exchanged a single word since the how-do-you-do's. I decided to interject, and attempt to break the ice. "Do you speak any English?" I asked him. He told me that his English was very bad, but did manage to tell me his name, age, and where he goes to school. Basically name, rank and serial number. "Great," I said. Then I told him my name, where I'm from and how much I enjoyed this country of his. Then I looked over at niecy, and my wife made a nod from her to Bachelor Boy, a sort of "talk to him" in pantomime. It's obvious that he wasn't going to make a move. She looked around, whetted her lips and started to speak. But it wasn't to her date. She said, "Nathan, I want to know how to spell your name." "Got a pen?" I asked. Never mind, I spelled it out loud for her (N-A-T-H-A-N, in case you were wondering) and she smiled, adding that she liked her tea, and did I like mine. I smiled and nodded. My little scheme had failed.
I'm flattered that this girl wanted to make small talk with me, but now is not the time nor the place! She should be getting to know the fellow to her right. You know, finding out if she'd like to marry him and all that. I don't know how these sort of things work though. Maybe they have to play croquet or sacrifice a pig before they exchange words. The Bachelor's father proposed a toast, and I obliged, downing a small glass of hot Chinese wine. Yikes! Everyone had a good laugh, as it turns out it was a "sipping wine". I was burned in more ways than one.
I noticed to my left, that my wife's condition was getting progressively worse. She was now doubled-over with her head on the dinner table. Ok, this time I'm finished negotiating. "Do you want me to take you home?" I said sternly. This was not a question in the classic sense. "But I ordered you a Bibimbap (Korean rice dish)," she said. Look, I don't care if you ordered me Billy The Kid, we're leaving. I took a couple last bites to show her I was thankful for her ordering it for me, then I thanked everyonefor dinner, got our coats and walked my ailing wife to the elevator. On the way out, I thanked my niece for the performance. "Maybe you will call me?" she asked, making the telephone sign with her long, flautist's fingers. "I don't know how to use a Chinese telephone. It's better that I don't." I thought. "Call her," I said, pointing to my wife. I helped her into the lift and walked her around the corner to her mother's apartment, doing the human seatbelt thing again. Once we got home, I put her into bed, and she used her last ounce of strength to call a doctor, who happens to be a friend of her mother's. The Doc suggested some medicine, which the maid just ran out to get. I'm crossing my fingers for ya, honey. Nobody likes to get sick, especially on their vacation. I've been there, and they don't put hospitals on postcards, that's for sure.
After my run, I went in to chack on Sleeping Beauty. She didn't look too well. As she sat up, she told me her stomach was bothering her, and she didn't feel like having breakfast. She's usually a good eater, so this worried me a bit. I told her to go back to sleep, and she followed my orders. Her forehead felt a bit hot, too. not a good sign. I wondered out loud if we should cancel our dinner plans for tonight, but she said she could battle through, and of course we had a flute recital she didn't want to miss. So, after her nap, we got ready to walk over to cousin's house where the concert was to be held. At first, I objected to leaving the house. My wife didn't look too well. But, she said she was fine and wanted some fresh air anyway. On the 5-minute walk, I found myself propping her up most of the way, my arms wrapped around her like a seatbelt.
We arrived at Cousin Clotheshorse's place, and Niecy was excited to see us. She looked different today. Something with her hair, I'm not sure. I'm no good at noticing things like that. She could have had a nose job for all I know. She greeted us with a smile, and led us into the living room, where she proudly assembled her long, silver flute. She got right to it & began playing. My god, she was good! She started off with a classical piece that I unfortunately didn't recognize, then a traditional Chinese piece, and finally, she told me that she was going to play the themesong from Titanic, "My Heart Will Go On". Now, I'm not a huge fan of Celyn Dion. Actually I find her chest-pounding and overacting a bit annoying, but through this shiny metal cylinder attached to this girl's lips, it sounded beautiful. I gave her a standing ovation. She looked so happy.
After the concert was over, we were rushed out the door to dinner at a nearby restaurant. Niecy looked a little nervous on the car-ride. She sat next to me in the car, and I noticed that her hand was shaking a little. "I liked your playing," I said. "Oh, thank you," she beemed. There. I think that took the edge off a little. In some ways, she is like a scared little girl trapped inside a young woman's body. She seems so unsure of herself, but she ought not to be.
Now, back to my ill wife. I felt so bad for her. "Maybe we should just go home," i said. "no, it's okay. i want to be here," she groaned. I thought she was just being polite. "Let's go home, honestly," I begged. But she just sat down at the table, not eating anything, all the while looking miserable. I tried to do the husbandly thing, you know offering her my jacket in case she was cold, topping up her water glass and offering to take her home, but she refused.
It turns out there was an alterior motive for this dinner. Mother-In-Law has some friends with a son around the same age as our niece, and she was just dying to play Cupid, and introduce them. i don't know how arranged marriages work, but this seemed very awkward. Bachelor #1 was carted in amid lots of handshakes and how-do-you-do's. The whole time I kept sneaking looks over at Niecy, to guage her reaction. She did not look herself. She was sitting extremely upright, and I think I saw her hands shaking again. Then, all of a sudden she got up and quietly assembled her flute. She was going to perform for us again! She said, in perfect English, "This is called My Heart Will Go On. It's Nathan's favourite." Only my wife and I understood her, so she said it again, in Chinese. She began playing with such gusto; moving gracefully with the sweet melodies. She was owning this performance, and making her uncle proud! We all clapped, and when she returned to her seat, I gave her a high-five.
All throughout dinner, there was a strange feeling in the air. Bachelor #1 barely looked at his "date" during her performance, and the two hadn't exchanged a single word since the how-do-you-do's. I decided to interject, and attempt to break the ice. "Do you speak any English?" I asked him. He told me that his English was very bad, but did manage to tell me his name, age, and where he goes to school. Basically name, rank and serial number. "Great," I said. Then I told him my name, where I'm from and how much I enjoyed this country of his. Then I looked over at niecy, and my wife made a nod from her to Bachelor Boy, a sort of "talk to him" in pantomime. It's obvious that he wasn't going to make a move. She looked around, whetted her lips and started to speak. But it wasn't to her date. She said, "Nathan, I want to know how to spell your name." "Got a pen?" I asked. Never mind, I spelled it out loud for her (N-A-T-H-A-N, in case you were wondering) and she smiled, adding that she liked her tea, and did I like mine. I smiled and nodded. My little scheme had failed.
I'm flattered that this girl wanted to make small talk with me, but now is not the time nor the place! She should be getting to know the fellow to her right. You know, finding out if she'd like to marry him and all that. I don't know how these sort of things work though. Maybe they have to play croquet or sacrifice a pig before they exchange words. The Bachelor's father proposed a toast, and I obliged, downing a small glass of hot Chinese wine. Yikes! Everyone had a good laugh, as it turns out it was a "sipping wine". I was burned in more ways than one.
I noticed to my left, that my wife's condition was getting progressively worse. She was now doubled-over with her head on the dinner table. Ok, this time I'm finished negotiating. "Do you want me to take you home?" I said sternly. This was not a question in the classic sense. "But I ordered you a Bibimbap (Korean rice dish)," she said. Look, I don't care if you ordered me Billy The Kid, we're leaving. I took a couple last bites to show her I was thankful for her ordering it for me, then I thanked everyonefor dinner, got our coats and walked my ailing wife to the elevator. On the way out, I thanked my niece for the performance. "Maybe you will call me?" she asked, making the telephone sign with her long, flautist's fingers. "I don't know how to use a Chinese telephone. It's better that I don't." I thought. "Call her," I said, pointing to my wife. I helped her into the lift and walked her around the corner to her mother's apartment, doing the human seatbelt thing again. Once we got home, I put her into bed, and she used her last ounce of strength to call a doctor, who happens to be a friend of her mother's. The Doc suggested some medicine, which the maid just ran out to get. I'm crossing my fingers for ya, honey. Nobody likes to get sick, especially on their vacation. I've been there, and they don't put hospitals on postcards, that's for sure.
March 1st 2008 - You Might Say It's In My Jeans
Today we went clothes shopping, and as a role-reversal, I was the buyer and my wife the hanger-on. Her cousin, the clotheshorse of the family, knows all the hot spots and possesses a true gift when it comes to knocking down the price of things. I've come to discover that unless you are in a department store, everything is negotiable in these parts. I was after a couple pair of pants and my wife suggested I buy a new jacket as well. Since I've dropped a couple of sizes over the years, my beloved waist-length army jacket looks like a camoflaged weather balloon on me.
We were on our way to pick up Cousin Clotheshorse, when my wife told me her neice would be coming along too. Cool! More family! In China, people my age belong to the "Only Child Generation" - there is a single birth-rule for every family. I mean, it's not like they kill your 2nd born, but you have to pay a fine for every additional child. I guess it's to ease the burden on a developing country. This rule came into effect after our parents would have been born. I guess the baby boom was happening all over the world, not just at home. With no immediate siblings, this means that cousins, neices and nephews are closer than ever. I think that's pretty cool, especially since my 2 best friends growing up happen to be cousins, but we were often mistaken for 3 brothers.
The last time my wife saw her neice, she was a short, pudgy little girl whose fat rolls everyone used to pinch. Not anymore! i was taken aback when I saw this beautiful girl towering over my wife, hugging her like a power forward hugs a point guard in the WNBA. I couldn't believe my eyes. The resemblance was uncanny! Aside of course from the extra 6 inches or so in height. I was immediately ordered to stand back-to-back with this girl, who was only an inch or two shorter than me. Everyone back home is always saying how short Asian girls are. Actually this one friend of mine said there are 2 things he would miss if he moved to China: His Mom's cooking, and tall girls. Well, our little neice is just an average Northern Chinese girl, who are on average taller than the rest of the country's girls. After our introduction & measuring, my wife translated for me that my niece doesn't speak English very well, but was glad to meet me.
The 4 of us all headed out into the brisk Harbin morning (Cousin Clotheshorse, Big Neice, my wife and I). I was told we were headed for the Underground Market - literally. We walked down what looked like a subway entrance, through some tarps hanging in the doorway (to keep the heat in) and into a food court. It reminded me of a meat locker, but the smells inside told me that the meat was rancid. I held my nose as we passed the "mystery-meat-on-a-stick" and "What's That? in a bowl" stands, and entered a giant hall of various clothing and dirt merchants. You can tell right away that you should disregard all brand names here. Everything is of the highest knock-off quality.
Cousin Clotheshorse, or C.C. as I'll call her, once owned a clothing store in another city, so she knows how to spot shotty material, weak stitching, and can tell you what the real value of any article is, never mind what the tag says. If the retailer tries to tell us the base cost for something, C.C. calls them on their lie. She told us that jeans never cost more than 80-100 yuan a pair when you buy them wholesale. In one store, they were marked up to 280 a pair, and the salesmen wouldn't budge much, so we moved on. I spotted a pair of dark blue jeans I liked, and so I asked if I could try them on.
Well, at the Underground Market, fitting rooms are a luxury not every merchant can afford, let me tell you. If you are lucky, they'll let you step back into the gap behind their back wall so you can strip down among the tepid water and rat feces. At the very least, they would provide you with a tattered sheet to drape over yourself while pantsless. However, the accomodations were less than inviting at one store. "Uhh, you can stand behind that rack, I guess," said the salesman. What a cheeky bastard. But no, I would soon find out that I was the one who was about to be cheeky. The rack only covered me from the other people in the store. Anyone walking down the hallway could see my undies from this vantage point. The shopkeep probably thought it would attract business. Well, I was certainly attracting attention. I think ol' cousin and niecy stuck a peek, but then again, who could blame them? Here I was on display for all of the underground society to see.
After trying on a few more pairs of jeans in this manner, I settled on 2 pairs that I liked and we were moving on to jackets. As I said before, I had in-grown (is that the opposite of out-grown?) my beloved army jacket and I was thinking of something in the leather department. Nothing too bikery, more classy like in The Matrix or something. I tried on a few, but nothing really stirred my martini, so to speak. Then, in the second to last shop in the place, I spotted a dark brown zippered number with my name on it. Now, I was briefed back in a previous store (pun intended, very intended) on the art of haggling, and the trick is to never look too impressed by anything you want to buy. In other words, act like you don't really want this piece of clothing, but you might be persuaded to buy it. "I guess it's pretty okay," I said, handing it back to the merchant. "280 Yuan," she said. "C'mon, let's go," said C.C., and the games had begun. The further we walked, the lower the price fell, until we were so far away, we could just barely make out a faint "200" echoing down the cavernous hallway. We turned back, purchased the jacket, and all had a good laugh. That is, except for Madame Shopkeep. She looked quite angry.
Now, a shirt was needed to accompany my new jacket and pants. I looked ina couple of shops, but everything looked so metrosexual to me. I dunno, men's shirst seem very flamboyant and flashy over here, all frilly and V-necked. i saw one little number I liked, and asked if I could try it on. "Go ahead," said the merchant. I could tell that a fitting room was out of the question. So, here I was half-naked again standing in this little clothing shop amid the stares and whispers of generall gawkers, and I'm proud to say, a female admirer or two. I guess tattoos aren't very common over here, because cousin and niece asked if they could have another look/touch. I don't have the world's most meaningful or thought-provoking tattoos or anything, but I could tell this was a new discovery for them. Needless to say, I didn't buy any of those blouses, so we left with what we had.
I emerged from the depths of the underground market with 2 pairs of comfy jeans and a brand new genuine leatherish jacket. Not a bad day, overall. The most interesting part of my day though, was the introduction of a new character into my little story. My new niece was really something, I thought. When we went back home, I got a chance to talk to her a bit and do some background research. It turns out that her English isn't half bad afterall! She was just a bit shy at first. After seeing me strip down to my skivvies, I think the shyness shoe was on the other foot now, and she started to loosen up around me.
I found out that she is 20 years old, a film student here in Harbin, and she is a flautist. She showed me some pictures of her playing flute on her cellphone. I also learned that her father sadly passed away 5 years ago. This girl actually broke down and cried when she was talking about him. That takes guts, people. To open up emotionally like that in front of someone you've only just met a few hours ago, that takes guts. My wife and cousin consoled her with hugs, kisses and tissues, and she was back to her smiling self again a little later.
I'm glad I got to meet my niece. I see a lot of stories in her. I don't know, it's wierd to see people as characters and subject matter and all that, but I just get the feeling that this person is interesting and has a story to tell. My wife and I planned to get together with her again tomorrow, and she promised to bring her flute and play us a song.
We were on our way to pick up Cousin Clotheshorse, when my wife told me her neice would be coming along too. Cool! More family! In China, people my age belong to the "Only Child Generation" - there is a single birth-rule for every family. I mean, it's not like they kill your 2nd born, but you have to pay a fine for every additional child. I guess it's to ease the burden on a developing country. This rule came into effect after our parents would have been born. I guess the baby boom was happening all over the world, not just at home. With no immediate siblings, this means that cousins, neices and nephews are closer than ever. I think that's pretty cool, especially since my 2 best friends growing up happen to be cousins, but we were often mistaken for 3 brothers.
The last time my wife saw her neice, she was a short, pudgy little girl whose fat rolls everyone used to pinch. Not anymore! i was taken aback when I saw this beautiful girl towering over my wife, hugging her like a power forward hugs a point guard in the WNBA. I couldn't believe my eyes. The resemblance was uncanny! Aside of course from the extra 6 inches or so in height. I was immediately ordered to stand back-to-back with this girl, who was only an inch or two shorter than me. Everyone back home is always saying how short Asian girls are. Actually this one friend of mine said there are 2 things he would miss if he moved to China: His Mom's cooking, and tall girls. Well, our little neice is just an average Northern Chinese girl, who are on average taller than the rest of the country's girls. After our introduction & measuring, my wife translated for me that my niece doesn't speak English very well, but was glad to meet me.
The 4 of us all headed out into the brisk Harbin morning (Cousin Clotheshorse, Big Neice, my wife and I). I was told we were headed for the Underground Market - literally. We walked down what looked like a subway entrance, through some tarps hanging in the doorway (to keep the heat in) and into a food court. It reminded me of a meat locker, but the smells inside told me that the meat was rancid. I held my nose as we passed the "mystery-meat-on-a-stick" and "What's That? in a bowl" stands, and entered a giant hall of various clothing and dirt merchants. You can tell right away that you should disregard all brand names here. Everything is of the highest knock-off quality.
Cousin Clotheshorse, or C.C. as I'll call her, once owned a clothing store in another city, so she knows how to spot shotty material, weak stitching, and can tell you what the real value of any article is, never mind what the tag says. If the retailer tries to tell us the base cost for something, C.C. calls them on their lie. She told us that jeans never cost more than 80-100 yuan a pair when you buy them wholesale. In one store, they were marked up to 280 a pair, and the salesmen wouldn't budge much, so we moved on. I spotted a pair of dark blue jeans I liked, and so I asked if I could try them on.
Well, at the Underground Market, fitting rooms are a luxury not every merchant can afford, let me tell you. If you are lucky, they'll let you step back into the gap behind their back wall so you can strip down among the tepid water and rat feces. At the very least, they would provide you with a tattered sheet to drape over yourself while pantsless. However, the accomodations were less than inviting at one store. "Uhh, you can stand behind that rack, I guess," said the salesman. What a cheeky bastard. But no, I would soon find out that I was the one who was about to be cheeky. The rack only covered me from the other people in the store. Anyone walking down the hallway could see my undies from this vantage point. The shopkeep probably thought it would attract business. Well, I was certainly attracting attention. I think ol' cousin and niecy stuck a peek, but then again, who could blame them? Here I was on display for all of the underground society to see.
After trying on a few more pairs of jeans in this manner, I settled on 2 pairs that I liked and we were moving on to jackets. As I said before, I had in-grown (is that the opposite of out-grown?) my beloved army jacket and I was thinking of something in the leather department. Nothing too bikery, more classy like in The Matrix or something. I tried on a few, but nothing really stirred my martini, so to speak. Then, in the second to last shop in the place, I spotted a dark brown zippered number with my name on it. Now, I was briefed back in a previous store (pun intended, very intended) on the art of haggling, and the trick is to never look too impressed by anything you want to buy. In other words, act like you don't really want this piece of clothing, but you might be persuaded to buy it. "I guess it's pretty okay," I said, handing it back to the merchant. "280 Yuan," she said. "C'mon, let's go," said C.C., and the games had begun. The further we walked, the lower the price fell, until we were so far away, we could just barely make out a faint "200" echoing down the cavernous hallway. We turned back, purchased the jacket, and all had a good laugh. That is, except for Madame Shopkeep. She looked quite angry.
Now, a shirt was needed to accompany my new jacket and pants. I looked ina couple of shops, but everything looked so metrosexual to me. I dunno, men's shirst seem very flamboyant and flashy over here, all frilly and V-necked. i saw one little number I liked, and asked if I could try it on. "Go ahead," said the merchant. I could tell that a fitting room was out of the question. So, here I was half-naked again standing in this little clothing shop amid the stares and whispers of generall gawkers, and I'm proud to say, a female admirer or two. I guess tattoos aren't very common over here, because cousin and niece asked if they could have another look/touch. I don't have the world's most meaningful or thought-provoking tattoos or anything, but I could tell this was a new discovery for them. Needless to say, I didn't buy any of those blouses, so we left with what we had.
I emerged from the depths of the underground market with 2 pairs of comfy jeans and a brand new genuine leatherish jacket. Not a bad day, overall. The most interesting part of my day though, was the introduction of a new character into my little story. My new niece was really something, I thought. When we went back home, I got a chance to talk to her a bit and do some background research. It turns out that her English isn't half bad afterall! She was just a bit shy at first. After seeing me strip down to my skivvies, I think the shyness shoe was on the other foot now, and she started to loosen up around me.
I found out that she is 20 years old, a film student here in Harbin, and she is a flautist. She showed me some pictures of her playing flute on her cellphone. I also learned that her father sadly passed away 5 years ago. This girl actually broke down and cried when she was talking about him. That takes guts, people. To open up emotionally like that in front of someone you've only just met a few hours ago, that takes guts. My wife and cousin consoled her with hugs, kisses and tissues, and she was back to her smiling self again a little later.
I'm glad I got to meet my niece. I see a lot of stories in her. I don't know, it's wierd to see people as characters and subject matter and all that, but I just get the feeling that this person is interesting and has a story to tell. My wife and I planned to get together with her again tomorrow, and she promised to bring her flute and play us a song.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
March 1st - Beijing in Retrospect
Now that I'm back in harbin, I guess I have a chance to look back on my little excursion to Beijing. I picked up on a couple of things while there: 1) This is a city that is rich in history and culture and; 2) Beijing is becoming more and more commercialized ever day.
After speaking with a couple of locals, the ones who could answer me, I got the feeling that Beijing is the place to go if you're looking to make a quick buck, but definitely not a place to settle down for most people. There is heavy demand in the I.T. sector here, as many U.S. and European software companies have set up offices in Beijing. So like I said, make a quick buck and get the hell out. To start with, it's very touristy. I used to feel like a Novelty Act in Harbin, being the only paleface around for miles. "Step right up, folks. Come see the abominable white man in all his pasty glory!". Here in Beijing, I see whole packs of Germans, Australians, and Americans. You can tell where they are from by their little flag carried by the tour guide up front. If you get lost in the crowded streets, just look for those Broad Stripes and Bright Stars and play follow the leader.
I mention the crowded streets, but it's more like crowded street(singular). Wangfujing Street is a pedestrian-only zone lined with gift shops, English signs and no chance of being run over. Unlike in the other streets, where a "walk" sign is just a suggestion. "Walk, if you feel lucky." At night, Wangfujing street is like a Ghost Town. We walked through at 11PM when the shops are all closed, and there were only a few perfect strangers walking around. It was a pretty tranquil way to end our day.
The next morning though, it was like someone opened the great flood gates at the salmon-spawning site. As usual, I found myself going against the grain, or in this case, against the scales? I'm fighting my way upstream and squeezing between fatso American tourists and throaty Pasisian bimbos who smell like a perfume factory exploded in their general vacinity. It was like a big human stew, with Canadian as a garnish. It really reminded me how few Canadians there are in the world. I felt unique.
Just then, I saw someone wearing a Labbat's baseball cap from behind. I wanted to get closer to see if he was a fellow Canuck, but when he turned around, I was a bit confused. The first thing that caught my eye was his huge gut. Okay, I know a few Canadians who go a little overboard with the Timmy's now and then. I used to fit that bill, actually. But then I noticed what was covering his gut, or at least trying to. He was wearing a "Harley Davidson USA" T-shirt. Either this guy is generally confused, or he's an American tourist posing as a Canadian. I've heard of them, and to be completely honest, I smelled a Yankee. I decided to avoid a confrontation during which I probably would have grilled the poor guy on Provincial Capitals and Grade 4 Social Studies. There probably are a few Canadians here, but I think we're less obvious than that.
Getting around in Beijing can either be very easy, or very mind-numbing, depending on the time of day. Since try not to get out of bed before 8:30 whilst on vacation, I haven't experienced the morning commute at its peak. When we hopped on the subway at 11AM, it was pretty relaxed. But my, how quickly things change. I heard a little joke from a local. He said: "At 5 o'clock, Beijing is the world's biggest parking lot." He's right, too. We were meeting my wife's friends for dinner one night, and it took us a 30 minute taxi ride from the subway station to the restaurant, which ironically is the same length of time it would have taken on foot, according to the nice fellow who gave us directions.
So, in my conclusion, I have found Beijing to be a city of constant change. On one hand, you have the transformation of once sacred, untouched historical sites into money-making tourist attractions; On the other, you see a constant beautification process, brought on by the pressure to keep up with the rest of the modern world, plus the Olympics coming 5 months from now. If you are afraid of change, you would probably be afraid to leave your tiny, overpriced flat in Beijing.
I'm no expert on this subject, mind you. Heck, I only spent 4 days in Beijing. I didn't even scratch the surface of all the things to see & do. These are merely my opinions based on what I saw, and the information I gathered from the locals in my brief visit. If you go to Beijing tomorrow, you'll probably have an entirely different experience from mine. One thing's for sure though - being there made me crave some quiet R&R. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Being a tourist is tiring! I think I'll retire from it for a while after this trip is over.
After speaking with a couple of locals, the ones who could answer me, I got the feeling that Beijing is the place to go if you're looking to make a quick buck, but definitely not a place to settle down for most people. There is heavy demand in the I.T. sector here, as many U.S. and European software companies have set up offices in Beijing. So like I said, make a quick buck and get the hell out. To start with, it's very touristy. I used to feel like a Novelty Act in Harbin, being the only paleface around for miles. "Step right up, folks. Come see the abominable white man in all his pasty glory!". Here in Beijing, I see whole packs of Germans, Australians, and Americans. You can tell where they are from by their little flag carried by the tour guide up front. If you get lost in the crowded streets, just look for those Broad Stripes and Bright Stars and play follow the leader.
I mention the crowded streets, but it's more like crowded street(singular). Wangfujing Street is a pedestrian-only zone lined with gift shops, English signs and no chance of being run over. Unlike in the other streets, where a "walk" sign is just a suggestion. "Walk, if you feel lucky." At night, Wangfujing street is like a Ghost Town. We walked through at 11PM when the shops are all closed, and there were only a few perfect strangers walking around. It was a pretty tranquil way to end our day.
The next morning though, it was like someone opened the great flood gates at the salmon-spawning site. As usual, I found myself going against the grain, or in this case, against the scales? I'm fighting my way upstream and squeezing between fatso American tourists and throaty Pasisian bimbos who smell like a perfume factory exploded in their general vacinity. It was like a big human stew, with Canadian as a garnish. It really reminded me how few Canadians there are in the world. I felt unique.
Just then, I saw someone wearing a Labbat's baseball cap from behind. I wanted to get closer to see if he was a fellow Canuck, but when he turned around, I was a bit confused. The first thing that caught my eye was his huge gut. Okay, I know a few Canadians who go a little overboard with the Timmy's now and then. I used to fit that bill, actually. But then I noticed what was covering his gut, or at least trying to. He was wearing a "Harley Davidson USA" T-shirt. Either this guy is generally confused, or he's an American tourist posing as a Canadian. I've heard of them, and to be completely honest, I smelled a Yankee. I decided to avoid a confrontation during which I probably would have grilled the poor guy on Provincial Capitals and Grade 4 Social Studies. There probably are a few Canadians here, but I think we're less obvious than that.
Getting around in Beijing can either be very easy, or very mind-numbing, depending on the time of day. Since try not to get out of bed before 8:30 whilst on vacation, I haven't experienced the morning commute at its peak. When we hopped on the subway at 11AM, it was pretty relaxed. But my, how quickly things change. I heard a little joke from a local. He said: "At 5 o'clock, Beijing is the world's biggest parking lot." He's right, too. We were meeting my wife's friends for dinner one night, and it took us a 30 minute taxi ride from the subway station to the restaurant, which ironically is the same length of time it would have taken on foot, according to the nice fellow who gave us directions.
So, in my conclusion, I have found Beijing to be a city of constant change. On one hand, you have the transformation of once sacred, untouched historical sites into money-making tourist attractions; On the other, you see a constant beautification process, brought on by the pressure to keep up with the rest of the modern world, plus the Olympics coming 5 months from now. If you are afraid of change, you would probably be afraid to leave your tiny, overpriced flat in Beijing.
I'm no expert on this subject, mind you. Heck, I only spent 4 days in Beijing. I didn't even scratch the surface of all the things to see & do. These are merely my opinions based on what I saw, and the information I gathered from the locals in my brief visit. If you go to Beijing tomorrow, you'll probably have an entirely different experience from mine. One thing's for sure though - being there made me crave some quiet R&R. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Being a tourist is tiring! I think I'll retire from it for a while after this trip is over.
Feb 29th - Peking & Choosing
When you go to Beijing, you have to eat duck, or so I'm told anyway. There is one restaurant that has been serving up the Beijing Peking Duck since the 1800's and boy, do they know their stuff. Since today is our last day in Beijing, and we have a train to catch tonight, we decided to just loaf around and maybe do dinner and a movie. The dinner would be duck, no doubt about it, and don't worry about the bill.
Now I'm not prepared to write a Siskel & Ebert (RIP Siskel) review of Attonement, so I'll just tell you that it was a good story, and looked like a good representation of the WWII period. There was one shot that blew my mind. After the British soldiers fought the Germans back and France was safe, the director showed the aftermath of this huge battle on the coast. This one shot must have lasted 5 minutes, and the main thing you got from it was the emotion those soldiers must have been feeling. Some were wandering around, losing their minds, lots were drunk, and every one of them looked homesick. Without a single line spoken in that sequence, I felt all those emotions.That's good cinema. But enough about the movie - it's time to eat!
This next part is not for the squeamish - or the vegetarian. I'm taking you to the Beijing Duck Restaurant, and I hope you brought your appetite. Everything here, and I do mean everything, has duck in it. "Can I have a glass of water?" "You want duck with that?" We ordered 1/2 a roast duck with scallions and flour tortillas. Again with the Chinese burritos, the filling was 100% pure mallard. I'm such a lucky duck!
A knife-wielding masked man snuck up behind me, pushing a squeaky cart that was built for one thing - transporting the carcasses of our dearly departed ducks. He sharpened up his tools and went to work. He carved and snapped and sawed away flesh from bone - the heavenly juices dripping all over his white uniform. I think the purpose of the mask was to catch his drool. My mouth was watering like a drain spout, so I can imagine what his must be doing. He plated up our meat and then BLAM! He chopped poor Daffy's head in half, right down the middle. It made a sort of twig-snapping sound. Inside was a perfect cross-section of its brain. I felt guilty for maybe 30 seconds, until the first bite hit my mouth. Who's Daffy again? Oh right, he's dinner!
After we finished our mouth-watering mallard, I felt the urge to fly ina V-line back to our hotel and sit down for a while. We collected our bags and prepared to head for the train station to begin our journey back to Harbin. We arrived at the station early. About 2 hours early, actually. We could have walked around the city some more, but it was too risky to go anywhere too far at the last minute, in case we got stuck in traffic and missed our train. So, we sat in a coffee shop and nursed a couple of drinks for 2 hours, until train Z15 was ready to roll.
I usually can't sleep on planes, trains or buses. I don't know why, I just find it difficult. Maybe it's the constant motion, or the smell of human uncleanliness, which is very common on this train. I know I showered today, can't speak for the other people on this train. it smells a bit like the animal reserve I visited in Hainan a couple of weeks ago. So, to battle the no-sleep Blues, my wife and I stayed up and played "Rock & Roll Trivia" for a bit. After we turned out the lights, I started listening to these History lectures on tape. I stayed awake until about 4AM when the battery died on my Ipod. What a feeling that was! I finished all of my candy too, so there was nothing else to do. I buried my head in my dusty pillow and closed my eyes. No snoring bunkmate this time, and no sweltering heat. I was closest to the heat control, and I had it cranked to zero. I actually managed to doze off. What a relief!
i was blasted awake with the sun burning my eyes like a poison. You know the feeling. The sun was rising outside the window directly across from my bunk, and there was no curtain to draw closed. Might as well get up. I could tell we must be getting close to Harbin now. People were shuffling around, getting their luggage sorted out and not showering. There was some sort of distorted announcement on the P.A. and the train started to slow down. I slipped my jeans on over my shorts and stood up. Wooooaaaaahhh! Guess I don't have my sae legs, or rail legs yet. I wobbled down the hallway to the bathroom and pissed all over the floor. Some wise guy decided to take a corner at the exact moment I unleashed my overnight buildup. Conductors are all such cut-ups. They were probably watching me on some hidden toilet in the bar of soap. Thanks guys!
We pulled in at harbin Station and I quickly gathered my things and headed off the train. Holy Mackeral it was cold outside! I forgot that Harbin is about 10 degrees colder than Beijing. I started jogging towards the exit. My wife said her hands were cold so I grabbed her suitcase to speed things up. "Do you have your ticket?" she asked. My ticket? What, I have to show my ticket again? With all my lack of sleep and white man confusion, I think I crumpled up my ticket and tossed it somewhere back on the train. My wife appealed to the security guard, but he said I had to run back and retrieve it, or else buy another ticket. Shit. I bolted.
Luckily, the train was still sitting there, and the guy at the door understood that I forgot something. I knew we were in car 16, so I ran to the door with a 15/16 sign above it. Shit, is this 16 or is that? The entrance is between the two cars. Did I just pass the lower numbers or the higher ones on my sprint down the landing? I knew I was in bed #7, but there was no ticket anywhere. I looked in the garbage can, on the floor, under the bed, in the ashtray. Wait a minute... I don't smoke. There are butts in this tray. I'm in the wrong car!
i ran up to the next car, bed #7 and there was my crumpled ticket, lying on the bed. I got off the train with my recovered ticket, and about 2 seconds later, the train started rolling away. Man was I ever lucky. My wife was walking toward me with the original security guard who had stopped us at the exit. She said he decided he would let me off this time if I couldn't manage to find it. "Well," I thought. "I needed the exercise anyway." It's 20 below, my lungs are burning, my teeth feel funny, and we can finally leave the train station. What a day already! And it's only 7:30. What's next?
Now I'm not prepared to write a Siskel & Ebert (RIP Siskel) review of Attonement, so I'll just tell you that it was a good story, and looked like a good representation of the WWII period. There was one shot that blew my mind. After the British soldiers fought the Germans back and France was safe, the director showed the aftermath of this huge battle on the coast. This one shot must have lasted 5 minutes, and the main thing you got from it was the emotion those soldiers must have been feeling. Some were wandering around, losing their minds, lots were drunk, and every one of them looked homesick. Without a single line spoken in that sequence, I felt all those emotions.That's good cinema. But enough about the movie - it's time to eat!
This next part is not for the squeamish - or the vegetarian. I'm taking you to the Beijing Duck Restaurant, and I hope you brought your appetite. Everything here, and I do mean everything, has duck in it. "Can I have a glass of water?" "You want duck with that?" We ordered 1/2 a roast duck with scallions and flour tortillas. Again with the Chinese burritos, the filling was 100% pure mallard. I'm such a lucky duck!
A knife-wielding masked man snuck up behind me, pushing a squeaky cart that was built for one thing - transporting the carcasses of our dearly departed ducks. He sharpened up his tools and went to work. He carved and snapped and sawed away flesh from bone - the heavenly juices dripping all over his white uniform. I think the purpose of the mask was to catch his drool. My mouth was watering like a drain spout, so I can imagine what his must be doing. He plated up our meat and then BLAM! He chopped poor Daffy's head in half, right down the middle. It made a sort of twig-snapping sound. Inside was a perfect cross-section of its brain. I felt guilty for maybe 30 seconds, until the first bite hit my mouth. Who's Daffy again? Oh right, he's dinner!
After we finished our mouth-watering mallard, I felt the urge to fly ina V-line back to our hotel and sit down for a while. We collected our bags and prepared to head for the train station to begin our journey back to Harbin. We arrived at the station early. About 2 hours early, actually. We could have walked around the city some more, but it was too risky to go anywhere too far at the last minute, in case we got stuck in traffic and missed our train. So, we sat in a coffee shop and nursed a couple of drinks for 2 hours, until train Z15 was ready to roll.
I usually can't sleep on planes, trains or buses. I don't know why, I just find it difficult. Maybe it's the constant motion, or the smell of human uncleanliness, which is very common on this train. I know I showered today, can't speak for the other people on this train. it smells a bit like the animal reserve I visited in Hainan a couple of weeks ago. So, to battle the no-sleep Blues, my wife and I stayed up and played "Rock & Roll Trivia" for a bit. After we turned out the lights, I started listening to these History lectures on tape. I stayed awake until about 4AM when the battery died on my Ipod. What a feeling that was! I finished all of my candy too, so there was nothing else to do. I buried my head in my dusty pillow and closed my eyes. No snoring bunkmate this time, and no sweltering heat. I was closest to the heat control, and I had it cranked to zero. I actually managed to doze off. What a relief!
i was blasted awake with the sun burning my eyes like a poison. You know the feeling. The sun was rising outside the window directly across from my bunk, and there was no curtain to draw closed. Might as well get up. I could tell we must be getting close to Harbin now. People were shuffling around, getting their luggage sorted out and not showering. There was some sort of distorted announcement on the P.A. and the train started to slow down. I slipped my jeans on over my shorts and stood up. Wooooaaaaahhh! Guess I don't have my sae legs, or rail legs yet. I wobbled down the hallway to the bathroom and pissed all over the floor. Some wise guy decided to take a corner at the exact moment I unleashed my overnight buildup. Conductors are all such cut-ups. They were probably watching me on some hidden toilet in the bar of soap. Thanks guys!
We pulled in at harbin Station and I quickly gathered my things and headed off the train. Holy Mackeral it was cold outside! I forgot that Harbin is about 10 degrees colder than Beijing. I started jogging towards the exit. My wife said her hands were cold so I grabbed her suitcase to speed things up. "Do you have your ticket?" she asked. My ticket? What, I have to show my ticket again? With all my lack of sleep and white man confusion, I think I crumpled up my ticket and tossed it somewhere back on the train. My wife appealed to the security guard, but he said I had to run back and retrieve it, or else buy another ticket. Shit. I bolted.
Luckily, the train was still sitting there, and the guy at the door understood that I forgot something. I knew we were in car 16, so I ran to the door with a 15/16 sign above it. Shit, is this 16 or is that? The entrance is between the two cars. Did I just pass the lower numbers or the higher ones on my sprint down the landing? I knew I was in bed #7, but there was no ticket anywhere. I looked in the garbage can, on the floor, under the bed, in the ashtray. Wait a minute... I don't smoke. There are butts in this tray. I'm in the wrong car!
i ran up to the next car, bed #7 and there was my crumpled ticket, lying on the bed. I got off the train with my recovered ticket, and about 2 seconds later, the train started rolling away. Man was I ever lucky. My wife was walking toward me with the original security guard who had stopped us at the exit. She said he decided he would let me off this time if I couldn't manage to find it. "Well," I thought. "I needed the exercise anyway." It's 20 below, my lungs are burning, my teeth feel funny, and we can finally leave the train station. What a day already! And it's only 7:30. What's next?
Feb 28th - The Emperor's New Skates
We have a busy day ahead of us. It's all fun stuff, but I'm starting to realize that being a tourist can be tiring! First off, we went out for breakfast, which I must say was quite scrumptious. I never imagined that breakfast burritos were popular over here, but you'll find whole restaurants dedicated to wraps. You just sit down, choose your fillings, and wrap it up. We had roasted pork, fried eggs, bean sprouts, potatoes and green onion in ours. Just writing this is making me hungry again. I'll try to wrap this up as soon as possible.
After breakfast, we hopped on the subway train. We literally hopped too, as there is about a 6 inch gap between the platform and the train. This was an adventure worth telling about. The subway is a pretty inexpensive form of transportation here in Beijing. 2 Yuan will take you just about anywhere in the city. None of this paying extra for more "zones" crap like back in Vancouver. My wife is putting me to the test today. She's making me go up to the little window to purcahse our tickets. It might sound easy in principle, but for an Anglophone like me, even remembering the word for "two" can be difficult. It's doubly hard when they use different number systems depending on what you're counting. If it's two tickets, you say "Liang zhang piao". If counting, you say Ee, Ar meaning 1,2. Wierd, huh?
Now that we have our tickets, it's time to board the train. Here's something odd: they have people working on the platform who have the simple job of pushing, that's right pushing people onto the train. Back home, bus drivers will politely say "Move to the back please". In Beijing, it's more like "You don't wanna move to the back, then I'm gonna do it for you. We can fit another 30 or so people on this train, guys."
We reached our destination after about 20 minutes in Sardinia. Somebody on that train was a boozer, because even at this early hour, I could smell the sauce. We got off the train, walked up the hundred or so stairs and were on the street. We were looking for Tiantan park - the site of a few temples, museums and things. Oh, and it's also the main hangout for Senior Citizens to like to sing opera, dance and play strange instruments that you won't find at Long & McQuade. We walked down this long hallway, which I'll call "Music Alley". I was strolling through a crowd of people just as the music started, and I discovered that I was in the middle of a Senior Citizens' Dance Party, or Retro Boogie, if you will. I busted out a couple of moves, to the applause of the locals, and then I did the "Walk like an Egyptian" off the dancefloor. I always like to leave on a high note.
After Arthritic Electric Circus, we walked around to the Emperor's Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests. Now, I'm not a religious guy, quite the opposite in fact, but I guess Ancient China was full of tablet thumpers who believed in all sorts of legends, folklore, and worshipping things like sheep, corn, the sun and the moon. The big round temple was at the crest of a big hill, so you could see a panoramic view of the city of Beijing. Boy, that view must have looked a lot different in the old days when the temple was first built. There was probably less smog and not as many "Beijing 2008 Olympics" billboards.
We walked around some more and stumbled upon the "Echo Wall", a place that music nerds and audio engineers would love. It's a perfectly round wall, and when inside, people can stand on opposite sides of the ring and hear each other's voice perfectly. This sounds pretty interesting in principle, but when 50 or 60 people are trying to do it simultaneously, you get a frightening mix of yells, mostly from the dude standing next to you, screaming at the top of his lungs. Wait a minute, that's the rummy from the subway! And I'm pretty sure he's here alone. Yeah that's him alright. I'd recognize that lovely aroma anywhere. Sort of a mix of Gin, dirty laundry and cigarette butts. His smell was echoing inside my nose, so I figured it was time to leave.
I was getting hungry now, so I figured it was time to grab a snack. You can buy street meat all over this city - lamb skewers, shrimp, even strawberries and pineapples on a stick. I had 3 lamb skewers and i was all set for our evening workout. We were going ice skating!
My wife's cousin is a figure skating teacher at a popular rink here in Beijing. She's damn good too! Apparently she was the Chinese National Champoin a few years back, and just missed going to the Olympics in favour of someone younger. She was busy giving a lesson, but she made sure we were given skates, and granted access to the ice. What a feeling! When you've skated maybe once in the last decade, it's kind of awkward when you step on that ice again. Needless to say, I didn't attempt any triple axles or inverted sow cows. i just did a couple hundred laps, mostly of the forward persuasion. My wife was still a little sore from climbing the Great Wall the day before, so she wasn't as enthusiastic as me. Her cousin was flying around, teaching a young girl how to prance and dance on ice. Actually, she has a 9-year old daughter, who strapped on the skates to join us, but only after she finished doing her homework in her mom's office out back.
The daughter, whose name is Vivian by the way, was pretty talented. I guess when you get to be a rink rat every day, you pick up a thing or two. She was trying to teach me stuff, but I used the old excuse that I didn't want to fall because I on'y brought one pair of pants. Thats the truth! But also, I have a certain reputation to uphold. I am Canadian afterall. We are all born with hockey hair, no teeth and 9 months in the box, and here on the international stage, I wouldn't want to upset my fellow countrymen. I would probably be fined upon my return to Canada, and maybe I'd be banned from watching hockey for 1 year or something.
After we finished Dizzy on Ice, it was time for dinner. I was starving, too. Those 3 mystery meat sticks a gobbled earlier didn't quite fill me up. Somehow I knew though, that I would need to save room for dinner. Oh, and it was glorious. We went to an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant. Back home, I've been known to haunt the local sushi joints, and they know they're going to lose money when they see me walk in and then woddle out an hour or two later. I think you call that "Economies of Scale", although the scale is now broken, thanks to all the sushi.
With full bellies, we trotted across the street to cousin's apartment. Upstairs, little Vivian brought me a big bowl of ice cream. Jesus! What was I gonna do with this? I politely accepted it, and hey, there's always room for dessert. I'm on vacation aren't I? We hung out for a little while until I started to fall into a sushi-induced coma, and then we took off, heading again for the subway. I hope they don't push me too hard this time. I might pop! And nobody wants a sushi shower at this time of night.
After breakfast, we hopped on the subway train. We literally hopped too, as there is about a 6 inch gap between the platform and the train. This was an adventure worth telling about. The subway is a pretty inexpensive form of transportation here in Beijing. 2 Yuan will take you just about anywhere in the city. None of this paying extra for more "zones" crap like back in Vancouver. My wife is putting me to the test today. She's making me go up to the little window to purcahse our tickets. It might sound easy in principle, but for an Anglophone like me, even remembering the word for "two" can be difficult. It's doubly hard when they use different number systems depending on what you're counting. If it's two tickets, you say "Liang zhang piao". If counting, you say Ee, Ar meaning 1,2. Wierd, huh?
Now that we have our tickets, it's time to board the train. Here's something odd: they have people working on the platform who have the simple job of pushing, that's right pushing people onto the train. Back home, bus drivers will politely say "Move to the back please". In Beijing, it's more like "You don't wanna move to the back, then I'm gonna do it for you. We can fit another 30 or so people on this train, guys."
We reached our destination after about 20 minutes in Sardinia. Somebody on that train was a boozer, because even at this early hour, I could smell the sauce. We got off the train, walked up the hundred or so stairs and were on the street. We were looking for Tiantan park - the site of a few temples, museums and things. Oh, and it's also the main hangout for Senior Citizens to like to sing opera, dance and play strange instruments that you won't find at Long & McQuade. We walked down this long hallway, which I'll call "Music Alley". I was strolling through a crowd of people just as the music started, and I discovered that I was in the middle of a Senior Citizens' Dance Party, or Retro Boogie, if you will. I busted out a couple of moves, to the applause of the locals, and then I did the "Walk like an Egyptian" off the dancefloor. I always like to leave on a high note.
After Arthritic Electric Circus, we walked around to the Emperor's Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests. Now, I'm not a religious guy, quite the opposite in fact, but I guess Ancient China was full of tablet thumpers who believed in all sorts of legends, folklore, and worshipping things like sheep, corn, the sun and the moon. The big round temple was at the crest of a big hill, so you could see a panoramic view of the city of Beijing. Boy, that view must have looked a lot different in the old days when the temple was first built. There was probably less smog and not as many "Beijing 2008 Olympics" billboards.
We walked around some more and stumbled upon the "Echo Wall", a place that music nerds and audio engineers would love. It's a perfectly round wall, and when inside, people can stand on opposite sides of the ring and hear each other's voice perfectly. This sounds pretty interesting in principle, but when 50 or 60 people are trying to do it simultaneously, you get a frightening mix of yells, mostly from the dude standing next to you, screaming at the top of his lungs. Wait a minute, that's the rummy from the subway! And I'm pretty sure he's here alone. Yeah that's him alright. I'd recognize that lovely aroma anywhere. Sort of a mix of Gin, dirty laundry and cigarette butts. His smell was echoing inside my nose, so I figured it was time to leave.
I was getting hungry now, so I figured it was time to grab a snack. You can buy street meat all over this city - lamb skewers, shrimp, even strawberries and pineapples on a stick. I had 3 lamb skewers and i was all set for our evening workout. We were going ice skating!
My wife's cousin is a figure skating teacher at a popular rink here in Beijing. She's damn good too! Apparently she was the Chinese National Champoin a few years back, and just missed going to the Olympics in favour of someone younger. She was busy giving a lesson, but she made sure we were given skates, and granted access to the ice. What a feeling! When you've skated maybe once in the last decade, it's kind of awkward when you step on that ice again. Needless to say, I didn't attempt any triple axles or inverted sow cows. i just did a couple hundred laps, mostly of the forward persuasion. My wife was still a little sore from climbing the Great Wall the day before, so she wasn't as enthusiastic as me. Her cousin was flying around, teaching a young girl how to prance and dance on ice. Actually, she has a 9-year old daughter, who strapped on the skates to join us, but only after she finished doing her homework in her mom's office out back.
The daughter, whose name is Vivian by the way, was pretty talented. I guess when you get to be a rink rat every day, you pick up a thing or two. She was trying to teach me stuff, but I used the old excuse that I didn't want to fall because I on'y brought one pair of pants. Thats the truth! But also, I have a certain reputation to uphold. I am Canadian afterall. We are all born with hockey hair, no teeth and 9 months in the box, and here on the international stage, I wouldn't want to upset my fellow countrymen. I would probably be fined upon my return to Canada, and maybe I'd be banned from watching hockey for 1 year or something.
After we finished Dizzy on Ice, it was time for dinner. I was starving, too. Those 3 mystery meat sticks a gobbled earlier didn't quite fill me up. Somehow I knew though, that I would need to save room for dinner. Oh, and it was glorious. We went to an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant. Back home, I've been known to haunt the local sushi joints, and they know they're going to lose money when they see me walk in and then woddle out an hour or two later. I think you call that "Economies of Scale", although the scale is now broken, thanks to all the sushi.
With full bellies, we trotted across the street to cousin's apartment. Upstairs, little Vivian brought me a big bowl of ice cream. Jesus! What was I gonna do with this? I politely accepted it, and hey, there's always room for dessert. I'm on vacation aren't I? We hung out for a little while until I started to fall into a sushi-induced coma, and then we took off, heading again for the subway. I hope they don't push me too hard this time. I might pop! And nobody wants a sushi shower at this time of night.
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