A follow up to the taxi ride. Come to find out this sort of thing with guys wanting to 'help you out' with an off the grid taxi ride are all shysters. The 80 RMB I paid for the ride is about double what it should have cost.
This situation is this, guys hang out by the front door of the airport and size up recently arrived travelers. They then suggest a ride to the (insert destination here) and give you a price. What I had thought was a 150 RMB taxi ride should have been between 30 and 40 RMB. A misunderstanding on my part. When he suggested 80 RMB I thought I was getting a deal, instead he was ripping me off.
I also understand that these guys have a habit of taking the scenic route to make you think its a longer distance to your destination than you thought. They are also notorious for suggesting other hotels. I can only assume they get some kind of a kick back or have some other kind of arrangement with said hotel. In any event it aint legit.
So it turns out I was hosed a third time and didn't even know it. I personally am a little relieved because I had been looking for a third unfortunate event to occur. I have a superstition that these kinds of things come in threes. Stupid I know but I can't shake the feeling.
Anyway, I've learned a lot and hope that my hard earned lessons can be absorbed by others. I'm definitely on my guard now.
Friday, November 16, 2007
I'm Game
I can't believe what I did last night.
I was all set to spend a quiet night in my room, maybe have some noodles, maybe surf the net, whatever. Instead I was invited out for dinner. No big deal I've been to a ton of different restaurants and eaten many strange things. Tonight was going to be a little different.
I actually have to back up a little bit first. That afternoon I had gone to lunch with Ms. Vhang, the owner of the foundry that I have been spending most of my time at. We went to a little dumpling shop.
Again, no big deal.
One of the things about Chinese food is that it is FRESH! I capitalize because I can't emphasize enough the concept of fresh. Usually when you order a fish to be eaten for lunch or dinner you select if from a number of others in the tank swimming around. These tanks along with shelving similar to what you'd see at the deli display all of the food available at the establishment. This makes ordering food mercifully easy. A bit of imagination (the display isn't always in its final form) and an open mind are enough to keep your belly full.
In this instance we were selecting something as an appetizer to munch on while our dumplings were boiled. Ms Vhang is an excellent culinary guide as she fearlessly selects dishes to eat. She also seems to think I'm some kind of white elephant that needs to eat huge quantities of food. This means she orders a bountiful array as most portions are not usually large. It gets even better when eating family style.
But I digress.
In this case we are standing at one of these deli counters and I'm looking at dozens of different dishes. I'm not sure why exactly we're looking at this stuff, I didn't understand that this was the appetizer display at the time. Ms. Vang points to a dish with little shrimp in it (redundant I know) and one of the attendants grabs one for me to sample. I'm honored but not all that interested. The shrimp still has the head on it. This itself isn't unusual and I've dealt with it hundreds of times. No I'm not thrilled because I'm still a little gun shy from my recent intestinal unpleasantness. But what the hell,
I'm game.
They hand me the shrimp and just to make sure I pantomime sticking the whole thing in my mouth. Maybe it was a language issue but I'm fairly certain I'm supposed to eat it whole. Ok, when in Rome...
Not my style.
I love shrimp but I'm now certain I love it shelled and preferably deveined. Blech. To the amusement of everyone behind the counter and Ms. Vhang I quickly find myself a napkin and remove the insult from my mouth. I know, you think I'm a pussy. Wait a little bit.
So Ms. Vhang picks out a couple of other dishes (getting the hint on the shrimp) and we sit down to nibble while we wait. While waiting she gets up and heads back to the counter. When she gets back she's got a little...thing with her. It looks like a one of those noisy insects from summer (the name escapes me).
And its alive.
We poke at it, it moves. I take some video of it with my camera. I really don't want to eat this thing. After a little while she takes it back to the refrigerated display case to rub up with the shrimp.
Fast forward to that night.
The day before another of my friends here in China, Mr. Wang, had been telling me about this traditional way of cooking/heating one's bed that's done in Northern China. This restaurant specializes in this type of cooking. Total coincidence but still kind of neat. We walk in into the restaurant and select a fish from the tank. I make a point of asking for a fish that's been bad so we can punish it by eating it.
Next we head upstairs to a private room for dinner. This private room thing is very common and features again later that evening. The style of cooking is to use a small wood fire under a large iron bowl. A tiled ring surrounds the bowl and then we sit around it. The smoke is channeled away by a horizontal chimney and in traditional rural Norther China would have been directed into a chamber under the resident's bed making for a warm and comfortable night sleep. I'm fascinated by all this and take a ton of pictures.
Then comes the surprise.
While waiting for the bowl to come up to temperature we get a small plate of appetizers and guess whats on the plate.
Yup, the little squirmy things from lunch.
It is now that I learn that these are actually silk worms. These, however, are cooked. I gather they're something of a delicacy and Ms. Vhang demonstrates as much by mowing one down. Ok, Ok, I'll try one. After all,
I'm game.
The thing explodes in my mouth as I crush the exoskeleton. My mouth fills with some kind of foul mush and worst of all, its cold. Imagine a puree of chicken fat, egg and olive oil and I think you come close to the taste and consistency.
I nearly hurl.
I'm immediately looking for a place to spit it out at. Mr. Wang, Ms. Vhang and Ms. Vang's aunt all think this is high comedy. Mr. Wang won't touch the worms, he's from Shanghai he drinks snakes blood where he's from. I think the taste itself wasn't the worst part. It was the perfect storm of the thing exploding in my mouth like a cherry tomato combined with the fact that it was cold and then the idea of swallowing the exoskeleton that did it for me. I later found out that you don't swallow the shell but rather spit it out after having sucked out the guts.
Whatever.
The rest of the meal goes well. One of the techniques involved in cooking in this traditional method is to roll up corn bread dough and smacking it against the side of the bowl above the water line. Then when the fish is placed in the water (skin, fins, head and all) the lid is put on the bowl and the whole mess cooks.
After dinner I am blind sided by the suggestion that we go out for Karaoke. I've never done this before and while I think I can keep a beat, dance even whistle I'm damn sure I can't sing. Hell, I have a hard time remembering names let alone lyrics. But this is Karaoke, the words are on the screen and I've been expecting an evening out like this. Screw it,
I'm game.
So we head to the Karaoke bar and I'm kind of dreading getting up in front of a crowd of locals and making a fool of myself. I rationalize this fear away by telling myself these people do it all the time, my songs are going to be in English and who's gonna care when they're in their cups. So armored I proceed with confidence.
Remember the Chinese practice of dining in private rooms? That goes for Karaoke as well.
We get set up in a room and order a couple of beers. Mr. Wang starts out and whatever he lacks in skill he makes up for with enthusiasm. I'm next. I butcher a rendition of 'House of the Rising Sun' (the selection was limited and that was the only thing I was fairly sure I had a clue about). Over the next couple of hours I murder about 5 more songs. Ms. Vhang isn't too much better than I am but her aunt is quite good. Whether or not you speak Chinese you can tell she has some skill. I wrap up the night with a song 'One' that is completely different from what I expected (not U2) and just read the lyrics. Mr. Wang says 'That's it, we're outta here' when he realizes I'm just reading the words.
All in all an interesting and rather fun night. I'd do it again. This time I might even try to savor the silk worm. I've eaten Lutefisk.
I'm game.
I was all set to spend a quiet night in my room, maybe have some noodles, maybe surf the net, whatever. Instead I was invited out for dinner. No big deal I've been to a ton of different restaurants and eaten many strange things. Tonight was going to be a little different.
I actually have to back up a little bit first. That afternoon I had gone to lunch with Ms. Vhang, the owner of the foundry that I have been spending most of my time at. We went to a little dumpling shop.
Again, no big deal.
One of the things about Chinese food is that it is FRESH! I capitalize because I can't emphasize enough the concept of fresh. Usually when you order a fish to be eaten for lunch or dinner you select if from a number of others in the tank swimming around. These tanks along with shelving similar to what you'd see at the deli display all of the food available at the establishment. This makes ordering food mercifully easy. A bit of imagination (the display isn't always in its final form) and an open mind are enough to keep your belly full.
In this instance we were selecting something as an appetizer to munch on while our dumplings were boiled. Ms Vhang is an excellent culinary guide as she fearlessly selects dishes to eat. She also seems to think I'm some kind of white elephant that needs to eat huge quantities of food. This means she orders a bountiful array as most portions are not usually large. It gets even better when eating family style.
But I digress.
In this case we are standing at one of these deli counters and I'm looking at dozens of different dishes. I'm not sure why exactly we're looking at this stuff, I didn't understand that this was the appetizer display at the time. Ms. Vang points to a dish with little shrimp in it (redundant I know) and one of the attendants grabs one for me to sample. I'm honored but not all that interested. The shrimp still has the head on it. This itself isn't unusual and I've dealt with it hundreds of times. No I'm not thrilled because I'm still a little gun shy from my recent intestinal unpleasantness. But what the hell,
I'm game.
They hand me the shrimp and just to make sure I pantomime sticking the whole thing in my mouth. Maybe it was a language issue but I'm fairly certain I'm supposed to eat it whole. Ok, when in Rome...
Not my style.
I love shrimp but I'm now certain I love it shelled and preferably deveined. Blech. To the amusement of everyone behind the counter and Ms. Vhang I quickly find myself a napkin and remove the insult from my mouth. I know, you think I'm a pussy. Wait a little bit.
So Ms. Vhang picks out a couple of other dishes (getting the hint on the shrimp) and we sit down to nibble while we wait. While waiting she gets up and heads back to the counter. When she gets back she's got a little...thing with her. It looks like a one of those noisy insects from summer (the name escapes me).
And its alive.
We poke at it, it moves. I take some video of it with my camera. I really don't want to eat this thing. After a little while she takes it back to the refrigerated display case to rub up with the shrimp.
Fast forward to that night.
The day before another of my friends here in China, Mr. Wang, had been telling me about this traditional way of cooking/heating one's bed that's done in Northern China. This restaurant specializes in this type of cooking. Total coincidence but still kind of neat. We walk in into the restaurant and select a fish from the tank. I make a point of asking for a fish that's been bad so we can punish it by eating it.
Next we head upstairs to a private room for dinner. This private room thing is very common and features again later that evening. The style of cooking is to use a small wood fire under a large iron bowl. A tiled ring surrounds the bowl and then we sit around it. The smoke is channeled away by a horizontal chimney and in traditional rural Norther China would have been directed into a chamber under the resident's bed making for a warm and comfortable night sleep. I'm fascinated by all this and take a ton of pictures.
Then comes the surprise.
While waiting for the bowl to come up to temperature we get a small plate of appetizers and guess whats on the plate.
Yup, the little squirmy things from lunch.
It is now that I learn that these are actually silk worms. These, however, are cooked. I gather they're something of a delicacy and Ms. Vhang demonstrates as much by mowing one down. Ok, Ok, I'll try one. After all,
I'm game.
The thing explodes in my mouth as I crush the exoskeleton. My mouth fills with some kind of foul mush and worst of all, its cold. Imagine a puree of chicken fat, egg and olive oil and I think you come close to the taste and consistency.
I nearly hurl.
I'm immediately looking for a place to spit it out at. Mr. Wang, Ms. Vhang and Ms. Vang's aunt all think this is high comedy. Mr. Wang won't touch the worms, he's from Shanghai he drinks snakes blood where he's from. I think the taste itself wasn't the worst part. It was the perfect storm of the thing exploding in my mouth like a cherry tomato combined with the fact that it was cold and then the idea of swallowing the exoskeleton that did it for me. I later found out that you don't swallow the shell but rather spit it out after having sucked out the guts.
Whatever.
The rest of the meal goes well. One of the techniques involved in cooking in this traditional method is to roll up corn bread dough and smacking it against the side of the bowl above the water line. Then when the fish is placed in the water (skin, fins, head and all) the lid is put on the bowl and the whole mess cooks.
After dinner I am blind sided by the suggestion that we go out for Karaoke. I've never done this before and while I think I can keep a beat, dance even whistle I'm damn sure I can't sing. Hell, I have a hard time remembering names let alone lyrics. But this is Karaoke, the words are on the screen and I've been expecting an evening out like this. Screw it,
I'm game.
So we head to the Karaoke bar and I'm kind of dreading getting up in front of a crowd of locals and making a fool of myself. I rationalize this fear away by telling myself these people do it all the time, my songs are going to be in English and who's gonna care when they're in their cups. So armored I proceed with confidence.
Remember the Chinese practice of dining in private rooms? That goes for Karaoke as well.
We get set up in a room and order a couple of beers. Mr. Wang starts out and whatever he lacks in skill he makes up for with enthusiasm. I'm next. I butcher a rendition of 'House of the Rising Sun' (the selection was limited and that was the only thing I was fairly sure I had a clue about). Over the next couple of hours I murder about 5 more songs. Ms. Vhang isn't too much better than I am but her aunt is quite good. Whether or not you speak Chinese you can tell she has some skill. I wrap up the night with a song 'One' that is completely different from what I expected (not U2) and just read the lyrics. Mr. Wang says 'That's it, we're outta here' when he realizes I'm just reading the words.
All in all an interesting and rather fun night. I'd do it again. This time I might even try to savor the silk worm. I've eaten Lutefisk.
I'm game.
Its Not My Fault
I'm smoking like a chimney in December. Hell I'm smoking right now (sorry mom). But it’s not my fault.
Honestly.
I've been an on again off again smoker since ~1993. I remember vividly choking down Marlboro Reds at a picnic table during forklift training when in the Navy. A desire to fit in (stupid I know) and an (ir)rationalization that this would deepen my voice. Wow, I can't believe what a fool I was.
Oh well.
Since my daughter was born I've been more of an off again smoker than on but I don't mind having a smoke now and again. With that in mind, I accepted a cigarette from one of my Chinese hosts.
Bad move.
Since then, I have been marked as a smoker and am provided not the occasional cigarette like I had intended but rather whole packs! When with any representatives of my company's Chinese suppliers I can't even reach into my pocket to get one of my own. Worse still, I am bombarded with offers of cigarettes at every corner. I don't even have to rely on my own addiction to demand satisfaction as I have a bevy of supporters in this habit. And smoking is permitted everywhere except on airplanes. I'll bet you can even smoke in a hospital.
The nice thing about smoking (for all you non-smokers) is the social aspect of the ritual. Even if you don't speak the language, the request for or offer of a smoke is universal. Now caught up in this pact of self destruction you are inclined to make some conversation and when smoking you really are unable to do much else. This forces one to be relaxed and to find ways to enjoy the moment.
The downside is emphysema and/or cancer. Great.
Never the less I continue to smoke while in China. But this is an excellent example for my general experiences here. I recently had the bed in my hotel room changed. Not the sheets, the bed. What had been a box spring with what felt like an Army blanket for padding is now a firm but plush bed of very high quality.
This was done to my delight but not to my request. This is special treatment for a guest that is spending a significant time at their hotel. Not required but much appreciated.
In an effort to make me more comfortable during my stay here in China my business hosts have gone out of their way to take me on field trips on my day off. I never lunch alone. I've always got a little Chinese type snack available. I've been afforded the use of an office at both locations. And after I got sick I was assured in all sincerity that I could call them for assistance at any hour.
This Sunday I am invited to a birthday party at my friend Lucky's house. His mother in law is having a birthday and I am to be an honored guest. So while my previous posts may have had something of a negative tone I am having a good time of my stay.
China is still a strange place but I'm surviving.
Honestly.
I've been an on again off again smoker since ~1993. I remember vividly choking down Marlboro Reds at a picnic table during forklift training when in the Navy. A desire to fit in (stupid I know) and an (ir)rationalization that this would deepen my voice. Wow, I can't believe what a fool I was.
Oh well.
Since my daughter was born I've been more of an off again smoker than on but I don't mind having a smoke now and again. With that in mind, I accepted a cigarette from one of my Chinese hosts.
Bad move.
Since then, I have been marked as a smoker and am provided not the occasional cigarette like I had intended but rather whole packs! When with any representatives of my company's Chinese suppliers I can't even reach into my pocket to get one of my own. Worse still, I am bombarded with offers of cigarettes at every corner. I don't even have to rely on my own addiction to demand satisfaction as I have a bevy of supporters in this habit. And smoking is permitted everywhere except on airplanes. I'll bet you can even smoke in a hospital.
The nice thing about smoking (for all you non-smokers) is the social aspect of the ritual. Even if you don't speak the language, the request for or offer of a smoke is universal. Now caught up in this pact of self destruction you are inclined to make some conversation and when smoking you really are unable to do much else. This forces one to be relaxed and to find ways to enjoy the moment.
The downside is emphysema and/or cancer. Great.
Never the less I continue to smoke while in China. But this is an excellent example for my general experiences here. I recently had the bed in my hotel room changed. Not the sheets, the bed. What had been a box spring with what felt like an Army blanket for padding is now a firm but plush bed of very high quality.
This was done to my delight but not to my request. This is special treatment for a guest that is spending a significant time at their hotel. Not required but much appreciated.
In an effort to make me more comfortable during my stay here in China my business hosts have gone out of their way to take me on field trips on my day off. I never lunch alone. I've always got a little Chinese type snack available. I've been afforded the use of an office at both locations. And after I got sick I was assured in all sincerity that I could call them for assistance at any hour.
This Sunday I am invited to a birthday party at my friend Lucky's house. His mother in law is having a birthday and I am to be an honored guest. So while my previous posts may have had something of a negative tone I am having a good time of my stay.
China is still a strange place but I'm surviving.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
They've Cornered The Market
On jack boots. The women over here love knee high boots. They wear them even if you can't see them. I used to think it was kind of sexy but its rather boring now. You'd think it was part of the Chinese woman's uniform. That and/or high heels. Actually it's probably high heels first and the boots second. But the boots have to have high heels and they have to be skin tight.
The first time I noticed them was on a woman stepping into a club at the Nikko hotel in Dalian. I just thought she was out on the town and had gotten her fancy boots on. She was wearing a flouncy skirt white tights and black high heel knee high shiny leather boots.
Nice, I thought.
Then I started to notice that everyone was wearing some version of the same outfit. Knee high boots with shorts (tights visible in the gap between boot and pant). Knee high boots with Capri pants just covering the top. Knee high boots over skin tight jeans. Knee high boots under not quite skin tight jeans (I saw a woman trying them on at the mall). The jackier the heel the better.
WTF?
Could it be they're trying to compensate for the fact that they've got short legs? Could it be a Communist mandate? Could it be some cultural thing I just wouldn't understand, like foot binding?
I dunno, its strange though and not the least bit sexy anymore.
Of course sexy is hard to come by over here. I haven't seen a girly bar (or any bar for that matter) yet. I haven't seen a sex shop or anything that may even be a front for a sex shop. I haven't heard a dirty joke since I've been here. Girlfriends on the side are mentioned in fear and usually with a lot of giggling... by the men.
Case in point, one of my Chinese friends gave me a lighter. This lighter has a little LED type light built into it. Looking at it you'd think someone had just added a handy little flashlight to this lighter so you don't burn yourself looking for your cigarettes in the dark. Well this light has a secret. When shined on a suitable surface from about three feet away you get a picture of a topless Asian girl.
Clever.
Fun even. We were all marveling at it over dinner (three guys) shining it on the ceiling and stuff. I even invited the waiter over to show him the trick. But when I suggested I show any women... No No No. That would get us in big trouble. Hell, if curious we couldn't even explain what it was we were playing with. It was harmless, like naked lady playing cards.
Anyway, whatever half baked fantasies I had about a Chinese tryst are long since up in smoke. I don't speak the language, culturally I don't know where to start, and I like my women with a back bone.
Jeeze 1.3 Billion. How?
The first time I noticed them was on a woman stepping into a club at the Nikko hotel in Dalian. I just thought she was out on the town and had gotten her fancy boots on. She was wearing a flouncy skirt white tights and black high heel knee high shiny leather boots.
Nice, I thought.
Then I started to notice that everyone was wearing some version of the same outfit. Knee high boots with shorts (tights visible in the gap between boot and pant). Knee high boots with Capri pants just covering the top. Knee high boots over skin tight jeans. Knee high boots under not quite skin tight jeans (I saw a woman trying them on at the mall). The jackier the heel the better.
WTF?
Could it be they're trying to compensate for the fact that they've got short legs? Could it be a Communist mandate? Could it be some cultural thing I just wouldn't understand, like foot binding?
I dunno, its strange though and not the least bit sexy anymore.
Of course sexy is hard to come by over here. I haven't seen a girly bar (or any bar for that matter) yet. I haven't seen a sex shop or anything that may even be a front for a sex shop. I haven't heard a dirty joke since I've been here. Girlfriends on the side are mentioned in fear and usually with a lot of giggling... by the men.
Case in point, one of my Chinese friends gave me a lighter. This lighter has a little LED type light built into it. Looking at it you'd think someone had just added a handy little flashlight to this lighter so you don't burn yourself looking for your cigarettes in the dark. Well this light has a secret. When shined on a suitable surface from about three feet away you get a picture of a topless Asian girl.
Clever.
Fun even. We were all marveling at it over dinner (three guys) shining it on the ceiling and stuff. I even invited the waiter over to show him the trick. But when I suggested I show any women... No No No. That would get us in big trouble. Hell, if curious we couldn't even explain what it was we were playing with. It was harmless, like naked lady playing cards.
Anyway, whatever half baked fantasies I had about a Chinese tryst are long since up in smoke. I don't speak the language, culturally I don't know where to start, and I like my women with a back bone.
Jeeze 1.3 Billion. How?
On Chopsticks
I have come to measure a country on the sophistication (and to an extent, the cleanliness) of their public toilets. What I've discovered is that if you can't squat, and I mean heals flat on the floor, you had better hold it.
I can't squat.
My mom says I swallowed a broom stick as a child. I'm not flexible. I also find great comfort in my time on the throne. I usually bring something to read.
No fuckin' way over here.
I'm doing my best not to topple over into my own (and anyone else that may have missed) waste. By the way, don't forget to bring your TP because there is none provided. I actually get pissed if I have to use one of these holes in the floor. Furious even. I curse all of China when I have to use one. I rarely get mad at things beyond my control, but this is one of them.
The thing is it doesn't end with the toilets, and believe it or not it does get worse. No, the toilets/WC's I've had the misfortune of using were more modern examples of the Chinese version of an out-house.
At the foundry I'm working at there is a new building being built. Brand new. This facility is to operate year round and it gets cold up here in Pulandian. So you can imagine my shock when I discovered what constitutes a "rest room" for the workers at this new place. I only had to have a piss but I didn't want to be a barbarian and just find any old spot to make my water. So I asked.
What a shock.
I was directed to the rear of the property. There I found a small bunker like building with no doors and only little plus sign shapes in the wall (courtesy of strategically missing bricks) as windows. I climb the rise to enter what is now obviously an out house and am greeted by one of the rings of hell.
The room is about 12 x 12 (feet). On the left is a trench I suspect has a drain to the cesspool on my right. I know its a cesspool because I can see it through four convenient slots cut in the floor with ramps that lead down to the water's edge. There is all manner of garbage run down these ramps to the water along with a healthy dose of slithering shit. I'll be damned if they won't wipe their ass with anything, magazines, newspapers, napkins, up to and including plastic bags. And clearly some of these poor bastards HAD to wipe. There's shit spattered on the wall from some emergency that wasn't addressed soon enough.
I took pictures.
There are many common threads between the two versions of "hole in the ground" but the one I'd like to point out is the lack of anyplace to clean yourself up. No sink at the outhouse, no soap at the sink indoors. Which leads me to the title of this post.
Chopsticks.
I think chopsticks are the equivalent of eating with your hands just several inches of wood to separate your dirty ass hands from your food. No one touches their food with their hands over here.
I can see why.
I can't squat.
My mom says I swallowed a broom stick as a child. I'm not flexible. I also find great comfort in my time on the throne. I usually bring something to read.
No fuckin' way over here.
I'm doing my best not to topple over into my own (and anyone else that may have missed) waste. By the way, don't forget to bring your TP because there is none provided. I actually get pissed if I have to use one of these holes in the floor. Furious even. I curse all of China when I have to use one. I rarely get mad at things beyond my control, but this is one of them.
The thing is it doesn't end with the toilets, and believe it or not it does get worse. No, the toilets/WC's I've had the misfortune of using were more modern examples of the Chinese version of an out-house.
At the foundry I'm working at there is a new building being built. Brand new. This facility is to operate year round and it gets cold up here in Pulandian. So you can imagine my shock when I discovered what constitutes a "rest room" for the workers at this new place. I only had to have a piss but I didn't want to be a barbarian and just find any old spot to make my water. So I asked.
What a shock.
I was directed to the rear of the property. There I found a small bunker like building with no doors and only little plus sign shapes in the wall (courtesy of strategically missing bricks) as windows. I climb the rise to enter what is now obviously an out house and am greeted by one of the rings of hell.
The room is about 12 x 12 (feet). On the left is a trench I suspect has a drain to the cesspool on my right. I know its a cesspool because I can see it through four convenient slots cut in the floor with ramps that lead down to the water's edge. There is all manner of garbage run down these ramps to the water along with a healthy dose of slithering shit. I'll be damned if they won't wipe their ass with anything, magazines, newspapers, napkins, up to and including plastic bags. And clearly some of these poor bastards HAD to wipe. There's shit spattered on the wall from some emergency that wasn't addressed soon enough.
I took pictures.
There are many common threads between the two versions of "hole in the ground" but the one I'd like to point out is the lack of anyplace to clean yourself up. No sink at the outhouse, no soap at the sink indoors. Which leads me to the title of this post.
Chopsticks.
I think chopsticks are the equivalent of eating with your hands just several inches of wood to separate your dirty ass hands from your food. No one touches their food with their hands over here.
I can see why.
They Got Me
Excuses excuses, I hate excuses. But I was sick.
Really.
The Chinese version of Montezuma's revenge or something. I do know it was something I ate. Now I'm afraid of Chinese food. Before you could have handed me a won ton with a dog turd marinated in soy sauce buried in it and if I'd have seen another Chinaman eat it, so would I. Now all I want to do is eat rice and drink Coke Cola.
Man I was sick.
I've never had food poisoning before. It has to be what got me. Surprisingly I wasn't hit earlier. I can only chalk it up to my ordinarily cast iron stomach. In retrospect I should have been much more careful. The things I've seen prepared in the name of dinner. And you should see how they prepare some stuff.
Allow me to elaborate.
To begin with there is what appears to be the A number 1 crop of North China; Cabbage or Bok Choi. They don't have lawns here they have small patches of Bok Choi. Everyone that has a square to spare grows it. You see it piled to the sky on these three wheeled trucks of theirs. They stack it in front of their houses like their building a machine gun nest. You even see it in huge heaping piles at the foundry canteen.
What you don't see is saran wrap, screened in enclosures, refrigerators. So how do they preserve the food. That begs the question:
"What is preservation?"
Well if you think it means keeping something exactly as it is right now, then you don't have the same definition the Chinese have. If you think it means it is still in a form that is consumable to a suitably trained stomach, then you do have the same definition as the Chinese.
What I've seen the "Cook" at the foundry do is take half of his pile of Bok Choi and systematically blanch it in batches in some kind of vinegar smelling liquid. It is a simple matter of taking the Bok Choi from one pile, three to five heads at at time and dunking it in this boiling water. Flies along for the ride are included at no extra charge. The pile is systematically reduced from one end toward the other. Vegetables on the bottom of the pile (sitting on the dirt, paint over spray, rust, grinding abrasive etc.) is given no special treatment.
This recently boiled cabbage is then placed in a growing pile along with its brothers and a shit load of flies on a large plastic sheet. This sheet is sitting in a four foot deep hole just yards away from the "virgin" cabbage. The cook doesn't even bother to brush away the flies as he places the next load in the pit.
This continues most of the day.
Near the end of the day this same tarp is gathered at the top and tied off. Any flies that fail to escape at this time are entombed with the cabbage. No effort is made to warn the unsuspecting insects of their peril. The cook folds up the tarp "covering" this massive pile of steaming stinking cabbage and then drops a large steel plate over the hole.
No muss, no fuss.
The hole is a former garden bed of some sort. There is a short curb of concrete to raise the lip up slightly higher than the surrounding area. And I think they say a prayer to keep the water out. Later, I'm sure they'll process it in some way as to not poison the work force. This will then nourish the labor and we will continue to purchase cheap castings from them.
In the mean time the Bok Choi that was not so treated is being eaten. Every day the cook grabs a number of heads of the stuff and makes a meal of it. This pile sits uncovered all day every day, outside. It has not yet rained since this pile arrived but I suspect nothing would be done differently even if it did.
So to answer the question you're all asking right now; "Was this the stuff that got you?"
Hell No!
I'm crazy, not stupid.
No, it was a relatively innocuous Chinese lunch, fancy even. Sezchuan style. Pretty tasty at the time.
But the cabbage is only one example. They do similar things with fish. I was walking to the market place (read: shopping mall) and came across a stoop that had two large sheets of cardboard laid out on it. On these sheets of cardboard were neatly laid out fillets of fish. These fillets were drying as a method of preservation. Never mind the fact that dust from the city fires fueled by coal, exhaust from the two stroke mopeds or one lung diesel tractor things, anything any number of insects like to leave behind, or whatever else you can think of is collecting on your precious fish. And I saw the same thing with fruit as well.
It was like it was National Dry Stuff On Your Front Step Day.
I don't know why the whole country doesn't shut down every third day as they overwhelm the sewage system, stricken with what I had. It has to be training.
Well, I'm much more cautious now.
Really.
The Chinese version of Montezuma's revenge or something. I do know it was something I ate. Now I'm afraid of Chinese food. Before you could have handed me a won ton with a dog turd marinated in soy sauce buried in it and if I'd have seen another Chinaman eat it, so would I. Now all I want to do is eat rice and drink Coke Cola.
Man I was sick.
I've never had food poisoning before. It has to be what got me. Surprisingly I wasn't hit earlier. I can only chalk it up to my ordinarily cast iron stomach. In retrospect I should have been much more careful. The things I've seen prepared in the name of dinner. And you should see how they prepare some stuff.
Allow me to elaborate.
To begin with there is what appears to be the A number 1 crop of North China; Cabbage or Bok Choi. They don't have lawns here they have small patches of Bok Choi. Everyone that has a square to spare grows it. You see it piled to the sky on these three wheeled trucks of theirs. They stack it in front of their houses like their building a machine gun nest. You even see it in huge heaping piles at the foundry canteen.
What you don't see is saran wrap, screened in enclosures, refrigerators. So how do they preserve the food. That begs the question:
"What is preservation?"
Well if you think it means keeping something exactly as it is right now, then you don't have the same definition the Chinese have. If you think it means it is still in a form that is consumable to a suitably trained stomach, then you do have the same definition as the Chinese.
What I've seen the "Cook" at the foundry do is take half of his pile of Bok Choi and systematically blanch it in batches in some kind of vinegar smelling liquid. It is a simple matter of taking the Bok Choi from one pile, three to five heads at at time and dunking it in this boiling water. Flies along for the ride are included at no extra charge. The pile is systematically reduced from one end toward the other. Vegetables on the bottom of the pile (sitting on the dirt, paint over spray, rust, grinding abrasive etc.) is given no special treatment.
This recently boiled cabbage is then placed in a growing pile along with its brothers and a shit load of flies on a large plastic sheet. This sheet is sitting in a four foot deep hole just yards away from the "virgin" cabbage. The cook doesn't even bother to brush away the flies as he places the next load in the pit.
This continues most of the day.
Near the end of the day this same tarp is gathered at the top and tied off. Any flies that fail to escape at this time are entombed with the cabbage. No effort is made to warn the unsuspecting insects of their peril. The cook folds up the tarp "covering" this massive pile of steaming stinking cabbage and then drops a large steel plate over the hole.
No muss, no fuss.
The hole is a former garden bed of some sort. There is a short curb of concrete to raise the lip up slightly higher than the surrounding area. And I think they say a prayer to keep the water out. Later, I'm sure they'll process it in some way as to not poison the work force. This will then nourish the labor and we will continue to purchase cheap castings from them.
In the mean time the Bok Choi that was not so treated is being eaten. Every day the cook grabs a number of heads of the stuff and makes a meal of it. This pile sits uncovered all day every day, outside. It has not yet rained since this pile arrived but I suspect nothing would be done differently even if it did.
So to answer the question you're all asking right now; "Was this the stuff that got you?"
Hell No!
I'm crazy, not stupid.
No, it was a relatively innocuous Chinese lunch, fancy even. Sezchuan style. Pretty tasty at the time.
But the cabbage is only one example. They do similar things with fish. I was walking to the market place (read: shopping mall) and came across a stoop that had two large sheets of cardboard laid out on it. On these sheets of cardboard were neatly laid out fillets of fish. These fillets were drying as a method of preservation. Never mind the fact that dust from the city fires fueled by coal, exhaust from the two stroke mopeds or one lung diesel tractor things, anything any number of insects like to leave behind, or whatever else you can think of is collecting on your precious fish. And I saw the same thing with fruit as well.
It was like it was National Dry Stuff On Your Front Step Day.
I don't know why the whole country doesn't shut down every third day as they overwhelm the sewage system, stricken with what I had. It has to be training.
Well, I'm much more cautious now.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Me, Here, Stuff
So I've been told that I need to write more about me, over here and stuff. Not so much with the social observations. I'm gonna try.
So I'm eating like a king. Food is very inexpensive over here. And I'm talking about the good food not the 2 RMB lunch that the workers at the foundry eat. I'm eating lots of vegetables and fish. Dumplings and won-tons are falling from the sky.
Breakfast was kind of hard to get used to. The Faguo Hotel doesn't serve anything that is even remotely recognisable as a western style breakfast item. I'm going to have to have a trip to the Sunny Side Up Cafe and The New Louisiana Cafe for breakfast when I get back. I also kind of miss cereal, of any kind.
The drinks for breakfast are:
Water (hot or cold)
Orange Juice (really its Tang) and its hot
Soy milk - warm
Regular milk - warm
Nothing else. No coffee.
The Chinese palate rotates on the salt/fat axis. I can get behind it for the most part but I do like the sweet stuff. My belly is evidence to that.
The Faguo Hotel is new-er. It was constructed in 2003. This does not mean its modern, not entirely at least. The guy who built it blew his wad on the marble and granite and then went cheap on the windows. The sad thing is that even though the hotel was built in 2003 it looks and feels like its 50+ years old. The decor is uniquely Chinese but feels like something out of Rat Pack Vegas. The exterior is dirty and rusty. They heat everything with coal over here so anything outdoors acquires a fine layer of dust almost immediately.
The bed is a box spring with a blanket tossed over it. The pillows are top notch. The bathroom has this strange / interesting shower module that has a ton of functions built into it. I haven't tried any of them out but I could listen to the radio, whirlpool my feet, stand under a rain shower, get blasted by horizontal jets or take a normal shower.
TV is boring to say the least. I can't understand any of it and none of the programming is compelling me to try anyway. I haven't found anyplace to buy cheap DVD's yet but I couldn't watch them if I did because there isn't a player in my room.
Getting my laundry done is a luxury. I put it in a bag and set it by the door. When I come back its clean and folded. Unlike at home, I put it away.
I'm smoking again. At least I fit in.
I've fallen in love with roasted hazel nuts. However, I suspect they're roasted over a coal fire.
My hotel room overlooks a little stadium. This stadium hosts some kids playing soccer in the afternoon but seems to have as its main function that of an open market in the morning. I wake up to the sound of geese cackling, or at least that's what it sounds like to me. Really its some announcer hollering over the PA something in Chinese. It may be the equivalent to an auction but I wouldn't know.
I have as a neighbor an elementary school. The kids seem to get out at about 1pm, so I've only seen the scrum that is "pick your kids up at school on your moped" once.
I carry WAY more cash here than I ever did in the US. Hell, I have $ 7 in my wallet that I couldn't change at the airport and this is more than I usually carry. Almost without exception the Chinese businesses won't take my card. This has been hard to get used to.
I'm stuck with a cold right now. I wish I could go to the drug store and get some medicine that would work. I also miss my family and am bummed that I won't be able to go trick-or-treating with my kid. But otherwise everything is OK.
So I'm eating like a king. Food is very inexpensive over here. And I'm talking about the good food not the 2 RMB lunch that the workers at the foundry eat. I'm eating lots of vegetables and fish. Dumplings and won-tons are falling from the sky.
Breakfast was kind of hard to get used to. The Faguo Hotel doesn't serve anything that is even remotely recognisable as a western style breakfast item. I'm going to have to have a trip to the Sunny Side Up Cafe and The New Louisiana Cafe for breakfast when I get back. I also kind of miss cereal, of any kind.
The drinks for breakfast are:
Water (hot or cold)
Orange Juice (really its Tang) and its hot
Soy milk - warm
Regular milk - warm
Nothing else. No coffee.
The Chinese palate rotates on the salt/fat axis. I can get behind it for the most part but I do like the sweet stuff. My belly is evidence to that.
The Faguo Hotel is new-er. It was constructed in 2003. This does not mean its modern, not entirely at least. The guy who built it blew his wad on the marble and granite and then went cheap on the windows. The sad thing is that even though the hotel was built in 2003 it looks and feels like its 50+ years old. The decor is uniquely Chinese but feels like something out of Rat Pack Vegas. The exterior is dirty and rusty. They heat everything with coal over here so anything outdoors acquires a fine layer of dust almost immediately.
The bed is a box spring with a blanket tossed over it. The pillows are top notch. The bathroom has this strange / interesting shower module that has a ton of functions built into it. I haven't tried any of them out but I could listen to the radio, whirlpool my feet, stand under a rain shower, get blasted by horizontal jets or take a normal shower.
TV is boring to say the least. I can't understand any of it and none of the programming is compelling me to try anyway. I haven't found anyplace to buy cheap DVD's yet but I couldn't watch them if I did because there isn't a player in my room.
Getting my laundry done is a luxury. I put it in a bag and set it by the door. When I come back its clean and folded. Unlike at home, I put it away.
I'm smoking again. At least I fit in.
I've fallen in love with roasted hazel nuts. However, I suspect they're roasted over a coal fire.
My hotel room overlooks a little stadium. This stadium hosts some kids playing soccer in the afternoon but seems to have as its main function that of an open market in the morning. I wake up to the sound of geese cackling, or at least that's what it sounds like to me. Really its some announcer hollering over the PA something in Chinese. It may be the equivalent to an auction but I wouldn't know.
I have as a neighbor an elementary school. The kids seem to get out at about 1pm, so I've only seen the scrum that is "pick your kids up at school on your moped" once.
I carry WAY more cash here than I ever did in the US. Hell, I have $ 7 in my wallet that I couldn't change at the airport and this is more than I usually carry. Almost without exception the Chinese businesses won't take my card. This has been hard to get used to.
I'm stuck with a cold right now. I wish I could go to the drug store and get some medicine that would work. I also miss my family and am bummed that I won't be able to go trick-or-treating with my kid. But otherwise everything is OK.
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