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.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Honey, Nothing Happened
I had a headache yesterday (Saturday). Bad. It was the kind that builds from a nuisance to one that made me want to vomit. I knew I couldn't ignore this thing so I asked my friend Lucky to help me buy some medicine. What he helped me buy, he assured me, was made up of all natural ingredients all "from the mountain".
I took the maximum dose. It didn't work.
I tried laying down in my hotel room. I tried doing what I though were the breathing exercises I see my wife do when she has a brutal headache. I tried eating the headache away. I tried drinking the headache away (1 liter of beer). Nothing doing. I looked up acupuncture but have no idea where I would get it done at (and I'm afraid of blood borne diseases). I had only one option left, a massage.
There is a "Health Club" that shares the parking lot/courtyard with my hotel. I had asked Lucky about it and he said it was on the up and up but that I could get a sexy massage there if I wanted.
I didn't want a sexy massage I wanted a get rid of my headache massage.
I walked over to the health club and immediately began to make a fool of myself. I didn't take off my shoes when I reached the carpet. This would be a theme for me. So now I've been flustered by the shoes thing, I have a headache of epic proportions and I'm worried I'm going to get sexually assaulted.
They ask me what I want.
I want a massage.
Yes, yes. Up to #2 or #3?
I don't know. Someone decides for me, #2.
They hand me a little towel wrapped in what I later discover is a bracelet with a number on it, #308. I get to the 2nd floor and am directed to strip by a guy they find who speaks a smattering of English. I do so in short order and an attendant, who is really too close, takes my stuff and puts it in a locker. The bracelet thing has a chip in it that activates the lock. Cool. I turn around and hear a none too disguised grunt of surprise. I think its the Irish curse I've got. I'm a grower, not a shower. In hindsight it must have been the hair. I have plenty, they have none.
So I'm nude and a bunch of people are staring at me. Great. I walk into the bath area and note there are a bunch of tables at the far side of the room with guys laying on them getting rubbed down. I hear some shouting behind me and discover that I've walked into the shower area without having put on some conveniently supplied slippers. I put them on and shower up. It seems like the right thing to do.
Now I have to take a piss.
The 1 liter of beer I drank trying to get rid of my headache is pushing for the door. Nude I pantomime to the nearby attendant that I have to piss. Yes it looked like that. They show me to the bathroom and I make my water. I then walk back to the massage tables and the guy who spoke English to me asks me to lay down on his table. I do so while clumsily kicking off the slippers. He then proceeds to give me a thorough rub down.
This is heaven. I only really needed a good head massage but he works the whole body. He actually works up quite a sweat doing it. There is only one problem. Its a little hard to breath. With my face down on the table and no convenient opening to get some wind through I am struggling to keep my head aligned properly. Oh well, I use it as motivation to work on breathing. The massage ends and I step back into my slippers. Or at least I thought I did. In retrospect I put my feet down on the opposite side of the table as where I kicked off my slippers. Oh well.
I'm feeling much better, not all the way right though.
I walk back to the showers and rinse off my sweat and the soap my masseuse used to lube up my back for the rub. I finish my shower and am leaving the area when my masseuse jogs up to help me dry off. Uncomfortable. A minute ago he was wrist deep in my back and now he's just waving the towel at me and sort of brushing on my dick to dry it off. Again I'm all flustered. There are no less than 4 guys watching the proceedings. I step out into the dressing area with my slippers on. A no-no. Dammit can't I get any of this right?
Evidently not.
At this point I'm really kind of OK to leave. The attendants, though, seem to expect me to go up to the third floor. What the hell, maybe this was just a warm up phase. I'm feeling better but not fixed. I'm directed to put on a canvas-y outfit of shorts and a wrap around shirt. So I do and I go upstairs. I know I've made a mistake when I get upstairs because I am greeted by a room that looks like a mash up of a booking hall, a movie theater, and a gentleman's lounge.
And a couch full of girls.
Either I'm an idiot with too much pride or I secretly want something to happen but I don't turn on my heel and leave. I find a couch thing and lay down. A guy comes over and asks if I want something off the card standing on the table next to me. I can't read it. He says how about a beer. OK. He brings me the beer and asks if I want a massage. One of the girls is behind him. He assures me she is quite good. She keeps making massage motions down around my legs. I feel like a moron but I don't know how to say no. The massage offered by the girl is all of 128 RMB, something less than $ 20. This doesn't seem like sex for hire money so I think I'm safe.
Now its fairly dark in this room and also sparsely populated so I thought the massage would happen there. Nope. She leads me upstairs to a private room. Now I'm freaking out. She instructs me to undress and I take off my shirt. I lay down on the bed face up and she begins the massage.
I'm tense.
She's rubbing my arms and chest and can't seem to get over the fact that I have body hair. That's all well and good, borderline cute even (its nice to be novel) but I can't help thinking any move she makes is a sexual overture.
She tries to chit chat. I finally understand she's trying to tell me her name, I couldn't remember it if you put me under hypnosis. Her name tag says she's # 322. I learn she's 25 I tell her I'm 33. She wants to know where I'm staying. I tell her the Faguo Hotel next door. I don't tell her my room number. Now she's rubbing my belly. Fuck if that isn't close too my dick. I concentrate on not getting a hard-on. This is fairly easy considering I have to take a shit.
I'm not kidding.
My belly keeps rumbling and she keeps massaging. She also seems to think its cute that I'm a barrel bellied fat-so. She keeps thumping my stomach and hearing the hollow sound. Ha ha. Finally I get up and tell her I have to go to the bathroom. She shows me to the end of the hall. I miss the slippers and almost step into the WC in bare feet. She quickly points out my mistake.
Guess what, the shitter is of the Turkish type and no railing to hold on to.
The Chinese can squat all day long. I can't. I strip off my shorts, squat and dump. Yuck. All sexuality leaves the building when I flush. I clean up and leave the restroom. The girl is at the other end of the hallway waiting for me. Smart girl.
We re-enter the room and I climb back up on the table. She recommences with the massage, starting with my belly. I can't take it anymore I need to close out this issue. I try to ask her if we're supposed to have "sexy". I sound like Borat. She doesn't understand. I try to tell her that I'm married by making the ring on my finger motion. She responds with a quizzical look and does something that looks like the having sex motion. She doesn't understand. Finally I take her hand and say me, you and put her hand on my dick. No! No! She says.
Good. She understands.
I relax and she continues the massage. She works my head and neck (I needed that), my legs, and finishes up with some super hot towels on my back. With the exception of by stomach making a farting sound from the rearrangement of whatever was left in there, I guarantee I didn't pass gas, everything goes smoothly. The massage ends and she collects her little baggie of stuff and my untouched beer and we head downstairs.
I've had enough.
I don't go back to the "Lounge Room" I head straight downstairs. I get my stuff out of my locker and bug out. My bill comes to 255 RMB. Not bad for two full body massages but I think the second one did more harm than good.
When I get back to my room, the Australian contractor we have here doing inspections gives me a call. I ask him if he has any headache medicine. He does, its got codeine in it. Something special you can get OTC in Australia.
This stuff works.
My headache is gone for good in a half an hour. I don't know what to make of my experience. I think I was toying with the idea of a "full service" massage but it turns out I'm not that kind of guy. Instead I get back to my room and sign up at Suicide Girls. That and my little green lady will have to do.
I took the maximum dose. It didn't work.
I tried laying down in my hotel room. I tried doing what I though were the breathing exercises I see my wife do when she has a brutal headache. I tried eating the headache away. I tried drinking the headache away (1 liter of beer). Nothing doing. I looked up acupuncture but have no idea where I would get it done at (and I'm afraid of blood borne diseases). I had only one option left, a massage.
There is a "Health Club" that shares the parking lot/courtyard with my hotel. I had asked Lucky about it and he said it was on the up and up but that I could get a sexy massage there if I wanted.
I didn't want a sexy massage I wanted a get rid of my headache massage.
I walked over to the health club and immediately began to make a fool of myself. I didn't take off my shoes when I reached the carpet. This would be a theme for me. So now I've been flustered by the shoes thing, I have a headache of epic proportions and I'm worried I'm going to get sexually assaulted.
They ask me what I want.
I want a massage.
Yes, yes. Up to #2 or #3?
I don't know. Someone decides for me, #2.
They hand me a little towel wrapped in what I later discover is a bracelet with a number on it, #308. I get to the 2nd floor and am directed to strip by a guy they find who speaks a smattering of English. I do so in short order and an attendant, who is really too close, takes my stuff and puts it in a locker. The bracelet thing has a chip in it that activates the lock. Cool. I turn around and hear a none too disguised grunt of surprise. I think its the Irish curse I've got. I'm a grower, not a shower. In hindsight it must have been the hair. I have plenty, they have none.
So I'm nude and a bunch of people are staring at me. Great. I walk into the bath area and note there are a bunch of tables at the far side of the room with guys laying on them getting rubbed down. I hear some shouting behind me and discover that I've walked into the shower area without having put on some conveniently supplied slippers. I put them on and shower up. It seems like the right thing to do.
Now I have to take a piss.
The 1 liter of beer I drank trying to get rid of my headache is pushing for the door. Nude I pantomime to the nearby attendant that I have to piss. Yes it looked like that. They show me to the bathroom and I make my water. I then walk back to the massage tables and the guy who spoke English to me asks me to lay down on his table. I do so while clumsily kicking off the slippers. He then proceeds to give me a thorough rub down.
This is heaven. I only really needed a good head massage but he works the whole body. He actually works up quite a sweat doing it. There is only one problem. Its a little hard to breath. With my face down on the table and no convenient opening to get some wind through I am struggling to keep my head aligned properly. Oh well, I use it as motivation to work on breathing. The massage ends and I step back into my slippers. Or at least I thought I did. In retrospect I put my feet down on the opposite side of the table as where I kicked off my slippers. Oh well.
I'm feeling much better, not all the way right though.
I walk back to the showers and rinse off my sweat and the soap my masseuse used to lube up my back for the rub. I finish my shower and am leaving the area when my masseuse jogs up to help me dry off. Uncomfortable. A minute ago he was wrist deep in my back and now he's just waving the towel at me and sort of brushing on my dick to dry it off. Again I'm all flustered. There are no less than 4 guys watching the proceedings. I step out into the dressing area with my slippers on. A no-no. Dammit can't I get any of this right?
Evidently not.
At this point I'm really kind of OK to leave. The attendants, though, seem to expect me to go up to the third floor. What the hell, maybe this was just a warm up phase. I'm feeling better but not fixed. I'm directed to put on a canvas-y outfit of shorts and a wrap around shirt. So I do and I go upstairs. I know I've made a mistake when I get upstairs because I am greeted by a room that looks like a mash up of a booking hall, a movie theater, and a gentleman's lounge.
And a couch full of girls.
Either I'm an idiot with too much pride or I secretly want something to happen but I don't turn on my heel and leave. I find a couch thing and lay down. A guy comes over and asks if I want something off the card standing on the table next to me. I can't read it. He says how about a beer. OK. He brings me the beer and asks if I want a massage. One of the girls is behind him. He assures me she is quite good. She keeps making massage motions down around my legs. I feel like a moron but I don't know how to say no. The massage offered by the girl is all of 128 RMB, something less than $ 20. This doesn't seem like sex for hire money so I think I'm safe.
Now its fairly dark in this room and also sparsely populated so I thought the massage would happen there. Nope. She leads me upstairs to a private room. Now I'm freaking out. She instructs me to undress and I take off my shirt. I lay down on the bed face up and she begins the massage.
I'm tense.
She's rubbing my arms and chest and can't seem to get over the fact that I have body hair. That's all well and good, borderline cute even (its nice to be novel) but I can't help thinking any move she makes is a sexual overture.
She tries to chit chat. I finally understand she's trying to tell me her name, I couldn't remember it if you put me under hypnosis. Her name tag says she's # 322. I learn she's 25 I tell her I'm 33. She wants to know where I'm staying. I tell her the Faguo Hotel next door. I don't tell her my room number. Now she's rubbing my belly. Fuck if that isn't close too my dick. I concentrate on not getting a hard-on. This is fairly easy considering I have to take a shit.
I'm not kidding.
My belly keeps rumbling and she keeps massaging. She also seems to think its cute that I'm a barrel bellied fat-so. She keeps thumping my stomach and hearing the hollow sound. Ha ha. Finally I get up and tell her I have to go to the bathroom. She shows me to the end of the hall. I miss the slippers and almost step into the WC in bare feet. She quickly points out my mistake.
Guess what, the shitter is of the Turkish type and no railing to hold on to.
The Chinese can squat all day long. I can't. I strip off my shorts, squat and dump. Yuck. All sexuality leaves the building when I flush. I clean up and leave the restroom. The girl is at the other end of the hallway waiting for me. Smart girl.
We re-enter the room and I climb back up on the table. She recommences with the massage, starting with my belly. I can't take it anymore I need to close out this issue. I try to ask her if we're supposed to have "sexy". I sound like Borat. She doesn't understand. I try to tell her that I'm married by making the ring on my finger motion. She responds with a quizzical look and does something that looks like the having sex motion. She doesn't understand. Finally I take her hand and say me, you and put her hand on my dick. No! No! She says.
Good. She understands.
I relax and she continues the massage. She works my head and neck (I needed that), my legs, and finishes up with some super hot towels on my back. With the exception of by stomach making a farting sound from the rearrangement of whatever was left in there, I guarantee I didn't pass gas, everything goes smoothly. The massage ends and she collects her little baggie of stuff and my untouched beer and we head downstairs.
I've had enough.
I don't go back to the "Lounge Room" I head straight downstairs. I get my stuff out of my locker and bug out. My bill comes to 255 RMB. Not bad for two full body massages but I think the second one did more harm than good.
When I get back to my room, the Australian contractor we have here doing inspections gives me a call. I ask him if he has any headache medicine. He does, its got codeine in it. Something special you can get OTC in Australia.
This stuff works.
My headache is gone for good in a half an hour. I don't know what to make of my experience. I think I was toying with the idea of a "full service" massage but it turns out I'm not that kind of guy. Instead I get back to my room and sign up at Suicide Girls. That and my little green lady will have to do.
They Don't Do It Like We Do
Driving.
The simple process of piloting a vehicle from point A to point B. Elemetary really. Unless you add other drivers. Then it gets more complicated. Add China to that and I don't see why there aren't bodies stacked at intersections like cord wood. Remeber my previous post about the no rule following. Yea, the single best example is driving in China.
I don't drive in China, my boss won't let me. Even if he did I still wouldn't drive here. These people are nuts, they refuse to follow anything one might consider a universal requirement to sharing the road with others. There do exsist traffic control measures its just that no one pays them any mind.
The best way I've found to describe how the Chinese approach driving is to say that it is modeled after a mob of people leaving a sporting event or concert. Its not that anyone is pushing or shoving just constantly jockying for positon. No one does it with any malice but they also don't behave with any consideration for their fellow drivers.
Still there are some guidelines that can help one navigate the streets and highways in China.
The simple process of piloting a vehicle from point A to point B. Elemetary really. Unless you add other drivers. Then it gets more complicated. Add China to that and I don't see why there aren't bodies stacked at intersections like cord wood. Remeber my previous post about the no rule following. Yea, the single best example is driving in China.
I don't drive in China, my boss won't let me. Even if he did I still wouldn't drive here. These people are nuts, they refuse to follow anything one might consider a universal requirement to sharing the road with others. There do exsist traffic control measures its just that no one pays them any mind.
The best way I've found to describe how the Chinese approach driving is to say that it is modeled after a mob of people leaving a sporting event or concert. Its not that anyone is pushing or shoving just constantly jockying for positon. No one does it with any malice but they also don't behave with any consideration for their fellow drivers.
Still there are some guidelines that can help one navigate the streets and highways in China.
- The lines painted on the road are at best, a suggestion
- Speed limit signs are pretty
- Your horn is to be used to inform other drivers/pedestrians/animals that you are approaching or nearby
- No one will get upset at you for using your horn in guideline 3 nor will they do anything about your audible notification
- Commitment to a lane or queue is for the weak
- Trucks are slow moving obstacles and at all costs are not to be trapped behind
- Seatbelts are oppressive and a stripe painted on your shirt should fool the police
- There are as many lanes as cars can fit
- There is no minimum speed on the highway nor is there a lane designated for slow moving traffic. However the left lane is suggested.
- Passing on the shoulder is encouraged
- The shoulder is for passing, parking , walking and impromptu markets
- If you can fit into the space, then go
The above 12 guidlines are just that, guidelines. Please feel free to ignore any of them or make up new ones.
Still with all of their insanity behind the wheel, I've seen only one fender bender and it was at a stop light. The only conclusion I can draw is that one of the drivers was following the rules and the other wasn't. In fact most intersections don't have any controls at them. The road is shared by bicycles, scooters, scooter-pickup things, pedestrians, mule drawn carts, people with dollies, tractors, if it needs to move from here to there it gets on the road.
As an aside, VW positively owns the roads in China. Three of every 7 cars on the road is a VW or an Audi. BMW and Mercedes are also well represented. There are surprisingly few Hondas, a few Nissans and a number of Toyota's. China also has its own auto industry and a strange lot they are. Some are elegantly styled sedans and some are three wheeled bubbles. There isn't a single new truck on the road, not one. And ALL the cars are dirty.
Also, the roads here are huge. They are wide four lane affairs with enourmous roundabouts and intersections. But they have about 1/100th the number of cars on them we in the US would have. The're either planning well in advance or are just showing off. I think its the latter. Even with the absence of obvious traffic accidents and wide open spaces I still wish my seatbelt worked.
Still Mad at China
Having read my previous post (you did didn't you?) you know I'm in a bad mood. I no longer want help from any Chinese. None. Fuck off, I'll figure it out myself.
Yea right.
No sooner had I got my bag am I in need of assistance. Or rather a taxi ride. I step out of the terminal and a man asks me "Taxi?" and I answer yes. I show him a slip of paper that has the Nikko Hotel's address on it. He indicates he can do the trip for 80 RMB ($ 10). I had been told to expect to pay 150 RMB. In my currently stung financial situation I accept. God I'm a cheap bastard. And, in the Chinese's extremely polite fasion he takes my bag and begins dragging it to a line of cars.
He doesn't stop.
We are walking and walking and walking. Through the parking lot. Across a huge street. Toward a row of 3rd world looking apartment complexes. I'm starting to get nervous. I stop twice and ask where are we going? I'm not feeling polite and I don't act polite. The guy keeps urging me on and I start sizing him up.
What am I going to have to do to to get out of this situation?
What if we end up in a secluded area and he has some help there to shake me down?
Would these soldier looking guys come to my aid if... Nope they just left.
I'm tense and I'm ready to fight.
I didn't have to worry (although I still was at this point). This guy was just trying to make a buck outside the system. He had a car parked amongst some busses that he drove me to the hotel in. He just wasn't a part of the official taxi grid. None of this was realized at the time mind you. But I did figgure it out on the way to the hotel. Hell, the guy even told me to relax.
"Grrr" he said clenching his teeth and fists, mimicing my body language.
"Is OK, OK" he assured me.
I was still ready to pound him if necessary.
The thing is; that's China. Nobody follows the rules, nobody. Its in the way they drive, the way they work, the way they treat you. Everything! Every situation is unique and to be treated in a way appropriate for the desired outcome. It puts a whole new light on this communism thing.
Yea right.
No sooner had I got my bag am I in need of assistance. Or rather a taxi ride. I step out of the terminal and a man asks me "Taxi?" and I answer yes. I show him a slip of paper that has the Nikko Hotel's address on it. He indicates he can do the trip for 80 RMB ($ 10). I had been told to expect to pay 150 RMB. In my currently stung financial situation I accept. God I'm a cheap bastard. And, in the Chinese's extremely polite fasion he takes my bag and begins dragging it to a line of cars.
He doesn't stop.
We are walking and walking and walking. Through the parking lot. Across a huge street. Toward a row of 3rd world looking apartment complexes. I'm starting to get nervous. I stop twice and ask where are we going? I'm not feeling polite and I don't act polite. The guy keeps urging me on and I start sizing him up.
What am I going to have to do to to get out of this situation?
What if we end up in a secluded area and he has some help there to shake me down?
Would these soldier looking guys come to my aid if... Nope they just left.
I'm tense and I'm ready to fight.
I didn't have to worry (although I still was at this point). This guy was just trying to make a buck outside the system. He had a car parked amongst some busses that he drove me to the hotel in. He just wasn't a part of the official taxi grid. None of this was realized at the time mind you. But I did figgure it out on the way to the hotel. Hell, the guy even told me to relax.
"Grrr" he said clenching his teeth and fists, mimicing my body language.
"Is OK, OK" he assured me.
I was still ready to pound him if necessary.
The thing is; that's China. Nobody follows the rules, nobody. Its in the way they drive, the way they work, the way they treat you. Everything! Every situation is unique and to be treated in a way appropriate for the desired outcome. It puts a whole new light on this communism thing.
Hustled
One of the parts I left out of my previous post was that when I got to the airport I got hustled for a little over $ 100. Yup me, the world weary, savvy, street smart kid you all know and love (or should or will). I'm still pissed about it. I can't think about the incident without getting angry with myself.
It went down like this.
I finally got back to the airport in Beijing at about 12:30pm. No big deal right? Wrong. I had foolishly booked a flight for Dalian that left at 1:30pm. I had booked this flight at the hotel thinking I would get to Dalian a little earlier than I would have the day before and perhaps be able to salvage some time.
Bad move. I should have relaxed and gone for the ride.
After I booked my flight to Dalian I got directions to a "big car" depot/station/whatever that would take me to Beijing. Turns out "big car" means van and its leaving for Beijing airport at 10:30am. This has me concerned because the drive time will put me right up against the flight's departure time. The guy at the depot tells me that if there isn't an accident on the road that I'll make it on time. In my mind this is a huge "if" (more on that on another post). I ask if he can help me change my flight... No.
So I have to wait. And my nerves don't need any more passengers.
We leave on time. The ride is uneventful. I get to talk to a Chinese lady who's travelling with her husband back to Toronto. I tell her my story up to the present (relative to the van ride). Nobody in the van can believe my bad luck or that of the guy who's driver I took. When we get to the airport she doesn't dump me but helps me find my way to check in.
It was upstairs. Not well marked but upstairs.
I thank her profusely and head up to the ticketing counter. I don't know what time it is. I think its a little before 12:00pm. My body language must have been shouting that I was an easy mark. I had just loaded up on cash, a necessity in China and was wandering back and fourth from the info monitors and the ticketing counter.
And then the wolves pounced.
I was approached by a woman in what I think was a jump suit but may have just been a uniform type outfit. She has patches and everything, so I'm convinced. She looks at my ticket says "No time! No time!" and drags me over to an open counter. I had been coming to the same conclusion but wasn't sure how to expidite my boarding. Sure enough the woman behind the counter clucks her toung and hands me a boarding pass. She also has a pittying look on her face.
And here comes the drop.
The woman who was helping me urges me to follow and to hurry. Again this urgency thing sucks me in. I am grateful for her help and she seems to genuinely want to get me to my flight on time. We whip around a dividing section, cutting past some retractable ribbon barriers and pick up another woman who is dressed the same as the first. Chinese is exchanged and the newcomer giggles. We three take off. About 100 yards later the woman who was helping me turns on me and says I have to pay her. Ok, no problem I pay for services rendered. She want's 200 RMB, oh and 200 RMB for the other woman who came along, oh and another 200 RMB for a third woman who suddenly shows up, and another 200 RMB for overweight luggage (it was heavy).
800 RMB! WTF!
If these had been $ 20's I'd have stopped at 1 for the effort. But its funny money and I'm flustered and confused. Having finally put my foot down and refused any further payments the first woman guides me all of 20 feet to the security check point. I get wanded and rubbed down and I'm through.
Then it hits me. Hustled...
Total distance traveled from the ticket counter to the security check point, about 120 yards.
Total time elapsed, about 2 minutes.
Time before my flight, about 1/2 hour.
Arrrrghh. I was furious; but impotent. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't go back, and even if I could I was never going to get that money back. I can hardly believe how stupid I'd been since I got to China. The $ 100 stings and I want someone to blame other than myself. I'm thinking about if I should and/or how I could expense it.
This put me in a very foul mood with respect to China.
It went down like this.
I finally got back to the airport in Beijing at about 12:30pm. No big deal right? Wrong. I had foolishly booked a flight for Dalian that left at 1:30pm. I had booked this flight at the hotel thinking I would get to Dalian a little earlier than I would have the day before and perhaps be able to salvage some time.
Bad move. I should have relaxed and gone for the ride.
After I booked my flight to Dalian I got directions to a "big car" depot/station/whatever that would take me to Beijing. Turns out "big car" means van and its leaving for Beijing airport at 10:30am. This has me concerned because the drive time will put me right up against the flight's departure time. The guy at the depot tells me that if there isn't an accident on the road that I'll make it on time. In my mind this is a huge "if" (more on that on another post). I ask if he can help me change my flight... No.
So I have to wait. And my nerves don't need any more passengers.
We leave on time. The ride is uneventful. I get to talk to a Chinese lady who's travelling with her husband back to Toronto. I tell her my story up to the present (relative to the van ride). Nobody in the van can believe my bad luck or that of the guy who's driver I took. When we get to the airport she doesn't dump me but helps me find my way to check in.
It was upstairs. Not well marked but upstairs.
I thank her profusely and head up to the ticketing counter. I don't know what time it is. I think its a little before 12:00pm. My body language must have been shouting that I was an easy mark. I had just loaded up on cash, a necessity in China and was wandering back and fourth from the info monitors and the ticketing counter.
And then the wolves pounced.
I was approached by a woman in what I think was a jump suit but may have just been a uniform type outfit. She has patches and everything, so I'm convinced. She looks at my ticket says "No time! No time!" and drags me over to an open counter. I had been coming to the same conclusion but wasn't sure how to expidite my boarding. Sure enough the woman behind the counter clucks her toung and hands me a boarding pass. She also has a pittying look on her face.
And here comes the drop.
The woman who was helping me urges me to follow and to hurry. Again this urgency thing sucks me in. I am grateful for her help and she seems to genuinely want to get me to my flight on time. We whip around a dividing section, cutting past some retractable ribbon barriers and pick up another woman who is dressed the same as the first. Chinese is exchanged and the newcomer giggles. We three take off. About 100 yards later the woman who was helping me turns on me and says I have to pay her. Ok, no problem I pay for services rendered. She want's 200 RMB, oh and 200 RMB for the other woman who came along, oh and another 200 RMB for a third woman who suddenly shows up, and another 200 RMB for overweight luggage (it was heavy).
800 RMB! WTF!
If these had been $ 20's I'd have stopped at 1 for the effort. But its funny money and I'm flustered and confused. Having finally put my foot down and refused any further payments the first woman guides me all of 20 feet to the security check point. I get wanded and rubbed down and I'm through.
Then it hits me. Hustled...
Total distance traveled from the ticket counter to the security check point, about 120 yards.
Total time elapsed, about 2 minutes.
Time before my flight, about 1/2 hour.
Arrrrghh. I was furious; but impotent. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't go back, and even if I could I was never going to get that money back. I can hardly believe how stupid I'd been since I got to China. The $ 100 stings and I want someone to blame other than myself. I'm thinking about if I should and/or how I could expense it.
This put me in a very foul mood with respect to China.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
I've been Tianjin-ed
Ok, so I have a lot of things to talk about regarding China but there is one story I have to start with. I was Tianjin-ed upon arriving in China.
Let me explain.
After a 13 hour flight from Chicago, I landed in Beijing. This is a long flight. I've been to Europe a number of times and know what an 8 hour flight is like. The extra 5 hours is brutal. I can only imagine the 18+ hour flights to places like Australia. You'd be right in thinking this all sounds like an excuse.
What happened is this.
After landing I collected all of my belongings and headed for baggage claim. Along the way I was taking pictures of all the novel Chinese advertising and warnings. I guess I had expected everything to be in Chinese just as everything is in English in the US. What surprised me was the amount of Chinese/English signage I saw. So I proceeded to document it. Then I get to checkpoint the first.
Here I encountered my first instance of having to fill out a form that asks for my name, date of birth, passport number and visa number. This form had been passed out along with two others during the flight but I hadn't received one. I find a station with the required form floating around and fill it out. Well, not completely as it turns out. I can't remember what I had failed to write but it did mean I was standing just past the guard as a crush of Chinese travelers are trying to pass the checkpoint. No kidding, it got to the point where the travelers were just throwing the forms at the guard and rushing past, no control just a bureaucratic hassle to overcome. The guard was stacking the forms as quickly as possible and probably could have gave a damn if I had filled the form out accurately. And then I was through.
Next was the checkpoint where they actually look at your passport and pound in an entry stamp. Again I have to find a form that I should have got on the plane and fill out the same information as before. I've traveled approximately 50 yards. I'm still taking pictures as the Chinese/English signage strikes me as amusing. I don't see how anymore but it was novel at the time and digital camera's mean it doesn't cost me anything but my dignity. So I'm snapping away like a clueless tourist, emphasis on clueless and I pass through checkpoint two.
I'm now headed to baggage claim and I am struggling to decipher where I need to go. There are signs but the description of the destination isn't consistent. Never the less I end up in baggage claim. I can't tell you if this area was dedicated to international travel or not. I think it was because everyone had to pass a third checkpoint where the above information was required and we had to declare any items of value that we were bringing in. It doesn't make sense that domestic travelers would have to do this, hence my conclusion. Here I did have something to declare, three 750 ml bottles of booze to be handed out as gifts. The guard couldn't have been less interested, seriously. He was more engaged in his newspaper than what I was telling him was in my suitcase.
And so I was through.
Now I've done some international travel and what greeted me was not completely unexpected. There was a mass of humanity looking for arrivals; loved ones, relatives (no that isn't redundant) business contacts, etc. What this does have the feel of is an end point destination. I don't see any obvious signs for where to go for connecting domestic flights, its noisy, I'm tired and I see a guy with a sign saying "Adrian" (my name) and "Southern" underneath it.
Here's where things start to go wrong.
I dismiss the guy with the sign and walk over to a spot where I can collect myself. I open my computer and re-check my itinerary. I know I have to make a connecting flight to Dalian and I know I don't have a ton of time to do it in. I had also been told that the Chinese were building another airport near the one I'd just landed in to increase capacity. The itinerary says I have to take China Southern Airline to Dalian. Ding! This guy is here to help me get to my connection! I walk back to him and indicate that yes I am the person he is looking for. We nod at each other and smile a lot neither of us speaking the other's language but both seeming to indicate that this is a confusing situation and that its understandable that I might be hesitant in acknowledge his task to assist me. The clincher comes when he keys up his cell phone and shows a text message indicating "Adrian UA851"; my name and my flight number.
The deed is done.
For 33 years I've been living with the fact that Adrian isn't a common name. I can never find any kind of novelty gift item, like the kind you'd buy at Wal Drug, with my name on it. Now I've just flown 13 hours with 250 other souls and I'm certain I'm a snowflake, unique. I assume that this man is here to expedite my connection and that someone from my company has arranged this because of an oversight on my itinerary. The driver says Tianjin a handful of times indicating our destination, takes my bag and we head out to the parking garage. Now I'm sure there's been a mistake in my travel planning and I'm relieved that he's here to help me out. Tianjin must be the name of the other airport that is being built and we've got to hurry up if I want to make the connection. There he has a newer VW that he loads my stuff into and we head out.
Urgency only serves to reinforce this series of events.
The way the Chinese drive is unreal. There is almost no order to it. While we never really reach any significant speed, my driver (and everyone else on the road) has no patience. We pass on the shoulder a couple of times. I'm convinced he's trying to get me to this Tianjin airport as quickly as possible.
Time passes.
Now I don't think he's taking me to the airport anymore. I realize Tianjin is a city separate and some distance from Beijing. I figure this is alright as I have a voicemail I can't get to on my US cell phone that I suppose would explain the whole mess. I finally can't keep my eyes open anymore and fall asleep. I wake to the sound of honking horns. The honking isn't unfriendly just often. I have about 2 minutes before the driver pulls up to the Renaissance hotel (by going the wrong way on a one way street) and presents me with the bill.
55o RMB! That's like $ 80. Something isn't adding up.
Things only get worse for me when I find out that the hotel doesn't have a reservation for me. Nope they weren't expecting me.
1100 RMB please.
I do manage to get a room and the hotel is easily the nicest I've ever stayed in. Then I start calling everyone I know to find out what went wrong. During this process I begin to get the picture that this is a colossal coincidence and I'm way off track. There never was any arrangement for me to go to Tianjin. There is nothing for me to do (for my work) in Tianjin.
And I've missed my flight. By a lot.
So the next morning I call down to the business center and ask for some help setting up travel accommodations to Beijing and then Dalian. When I finally get to Dalian, I find out that there isn't a reservation and that there wasn't one the night before. No big deal as there are rooms available.
Then things get stranger still.
My company had set up a reservation for me the day before. Also when my contact in Dalian calls the hotel to let me know when to be ready for pickup he gets transferred to ANOTHER Adrian's room. This guy has a Chinese assistant that calls my contact back to complain about the pickup time being a bit early for the flight back to Shanghai. More confusion follows and the mistake is realized.
So I finally hook up with my Chinese contacts and we head up to Pulandian so I can get to work. I'm only a day late and everyone is getting a good laugh at my expense. I couldn't have scripted a more bizarre beginning to my trip. Fortunately China has provided me with even more strange experiences.
This post is long enough, I'll save the rest for later.
Let me explain.
After a 13 hour flight from Chicago, I landed in Beijing. This is a long flight. I've been to Europe a number of times and know what an 8 hour flight is like. The extra 5 hours is brutal. I can only imagine the 18+ hour flights to places like Australia. You'd be right in thinking this all sounds like an excuse.
What happened is this.
After landing I collected all of my belongings and headed for baggage claim. Along the way I was taking pictures of all the novel Chinese advertising and warnings. I guess I had expected everything to be in Chinese just as everything is in English in the US. What surprised me was the amount of Chinese/English signage I saw. So I proceeded to document it. Then I get to checkpoint the first.
Here I encountered my first instance of having to fill out a form that asks for my name, date of birth, passport number and visa number. This form had been passed out along with two others during the flight but I hadn't received one. I find a station with the required form floating around and fill it out. Well, not completely as it turns out. I can't remember what I had failed to write but it did mean I was standing just past the guard as a crush of Chinese travelers are trying to pass the checkpoint. No kidding, it got to the point where the travelers were just throwing the forms at the guard and rushing past, no control just a bureaucratic hassle to overcome. The guard was stacking the forms as quickly as possible and probably could have gave a damn if I had filled the form out accurately. And then I was through.
Next was the checkpoint where they actually look at your passport and pound in an entry stamp. Again I have to find a form that I should have got on the plane and fill out the same information as before. I've traveled approximately 50 yards. I'm still taking pictures as the Chinese/English signage strikes me as amusing. I don't see how anymore but it was novel at the time and digital camera's mean it doesn't cost me anything but my dignity. So I'm snapping away like a clueless tourist, emphasis on clueless and I pass through checkpoint two.
I'm now headed to baggage claim and I am struggling to decipher where I need to go. There are signs but the description of the destination isn't consistent. Never the less I end up in baggage claim. I can't tell you if this area was dedicated to international travel or not. I think it was because everyone had to pass a third checkpoint where the above information was required and we had to declare any items of value that we were bringing in. It doesn't make sense that domestic travelers would have to do this, hence my conclusion. Here I did have something to declare, three 750 ml bottles of booze to be handed out as gifts. The guard couldn't have been less interested, seriously. He was more engaged in his newspaper than what I was telling him was in my suitcase.
And so I was through.
Now I've done some international travel and what greeted me was not completely unexpected. There was a mass of humanity looking for arrivals; loved ones, relatives (no that isn't redundant) business contacts, etc. What this does have the feel of is an end point destination. I don't see any obvious signs for where to go for connecting domestic flights, its noisy, I'm tired and I see a guy with a sign saying "Adrian" (my name) and "Southern" underneath it.
Here's where things start to go wrong.
I dismiss the guy with the sign and walk over to a spot where I can collect myself. I open my computer and re-check my itinerary. I know I have to make a connecting flight to Dalian and I know I don't have a ton of time to do it in. I had also been told that the Chinese were building another airport near the one I'd just landed in to increase capacity. The itinerary says I have to take China Southern Airline to Dalian. Ding! This guy is here to help me get to my connection! I walk back to him and indicate that yes I am the person he is looking for. We nod at each other and smile a lot neither of us speaking the other's language but both seeming to indicate that this is a confusing situation and that its understandable that I might be hesitant in acknowledge his task to assist me. The clincher comes when he keys up his cell phone and shows a text message indicating "Adrian UA851"; my name and my flight number.
The deed is done.
For 33 years I've been living with the fact that Adrian isn't a common name. I can never find any kind of novelty gift item, like the kind you'd buy at Wal Drug, with my name on it. Now I've just flown 13 hours with 250 other souls and I'm certain I'm a snowflake, unique. I assume that this man is here to expedite my connection and that someone from my company has arranged this because of an oversight on my itinerary. The driver says Tianjin a handful of times indicating our destination, takes my bag and we head out to the parking garage. Now I'm sure there's been a mistake in my travel planning and I'm relieved that he's here to help me out. Tianjin must be the name of the other airport that is being built and we've got to hurry up if I want to make the connection. There he has a newer VW that he loads my stuff into and we head out.
Urgency only serves to reinforce this series of events.
The way the Chinese drive is unreal. There is almost no order to it. While we never really reach any significant speed, my driver (and everyone else on the road) has no patience. We pass on the shoulder a couple of times. I'm convinced he's trying to get me to this Tianjin airport as quickly as possible.
Time passes.
Now I don't think he's taking me to the airport anymore. I realize Tianjin is a city separate and some distance from Beijing. I figure this is alright as I have a voicemail I can't get to on my US cell phone that I suppose would explain the whole mess. I finally can't keep my eyes open anymore and fall asleep. I wake to the sound of honking horns. The honking isn't unfriendly just often. I have about 2 minutes before the driver pulls up to the Renaissance hotel (by going the wrong way on a one way street) and presents me with the bill.
55o RMB! That's like $ 80. Something isn't adding up.
Things only get worse for me when I find out that the hotel doesn't have a reservation for me. Nope they weren't expecting me.
1100 RMB please.
I do manage to get a room and the hotel is easily the nicest I've ever stayed in. Then I start calling everyone I know to find out what went wrong. During this process I begin to get the picture that this is a colossal coincidence and I'm way off track. There never was any arrangement for me to go to Tianjin. There is nothing for me to do (for my work) in Tianjin.
And I've missed my flight. By a lot.
So the next morning I call down to the business center and ask for some help setting up travel accommodations to Beijing and then Dalian. When I finally get to Dalian, I find out that there isn't a reservation and that there wasn't one the night before. No big deal as there are rooms available.
Then things get stranger still.
My company had set up a reservation for me the day before. Also when my contact in Dalian calls the hotel to let me know when to be ready for pickup he gets transferred to ANOTHER Adrian's room. This guy has a Chinese assistant that calls my contact back to complain about the pickup time being a bit early for the flight back to Shanghai. More confusion follows and the mistake is realized.
So I finally hook up with my Chinese contacts and we head up to Pulandian so I can get to work. I'm only a day late and everyone is getting a good laugh at my expense. I couldn't have scripted a more bizarre beginning to my trip. Fortunately China has provided me with even more strange experiences.
This post is long enough, I'll save the rest for later.
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