When my friends and I started looking for a vacation over our Chinese New Year break places like Thailand and Singapore came to mind. When we realized that the entire damn continent travels during our break we found the cheapest place to go was the Philippines. I’m not gonna lie, I had no previous desire to go there, and hadn’t really heard anything encouraging about the country. But, it was cheap, and I wasn’t about to pass up another stamp on my passport.
If you haven’t noticed from my previous posts, I enjoy planning trips out to the very last detail. For some reason I decided that my enthusiastic friends would be better suited to figure everything out. We thus landed around four AM at Cebu International Airport without a damn clue as to what we were doing or where we were really going.
Our enterprising cab driver paid off the police to fit all of us into his cab, and took about five minutes to convince us to go to another island than we had previously decided on. As we had no idea what we were doing, we thus began an epic three-hour cab ride to the island of Malapascua.
Our first cab ride was without a doubt my favorite part of the trip. Allow me to set the stage. It was five in the morning. One of my friends was turning 21 that day. Our cab driver was also a drag racer (and drove like one as he utilized both lanes to speed around cars). At the driver’s suggestion we were drinking Filipino beer. The sun was rising over the Pacific. I was the only person not squeezed into the back seat. The fresh, albeit smoky, air was billowing in through the open window. And, a collection of Queen’s greatest hits was playing. It was one of the few moments of Zen in my life in which I can say I was truly happy.
Upon arriving at the northern tip of Cebu Island we started a weird process of negotiating the time and fare of our boat ride to the island of Malapascua. We ended up paying about $2.50 USD for the half hour trip, and wouldn’t you know it I managed to get a little sun burned at 9 AM. I looooove being white.
Finding a hotel was just as odd as the boat. Our cab driver (who came along) was obviously leading us to all the places he would receive a commission on, and we eventually decided on a decent place with gorgeous views of the beach. It was also $10 USD a night ☺
The next few days were spent doing the usual touristy crap like snorkeling, swimming at the beach, and enjoying cheap everything. That being said, I did overpay for a bottle of SPF 50 sunscreen from Germany that I was constantly lathered in thanks to my awesome Northern European genes.
I’m not at all a beach person, and my general view is that they are hot, full of people with darker skin than me, and essentially where land meets water. Gimme snow and asphalt any day. Despite my Debbie Downer point of view, a few things about the place were really cool. To begin, our hotel was next to a small cemetery. Usually that’s no big deal, except that there was a skull and bones in a bucket that was right next to the path we took to the beach. Far from being weirded out, we took pictures with the remains, and will probably rot in hell for it. (We tried to take pics at night too but realized the insane amount of cockroaches and ran away like girls)
We found a great place for dinner at another resort nearby. Beer there is about a dollar, and the waitresses learned our names (that is when they weren’t drinking and playing foosball). My favorite was the one who called me Tommm tomtomtomtomtommmm. On the food note, I had one of the best seafood dishes I have ever tasted in my life. I am a total food snob, and thanks to my wonderful parents I have the experience to back it up. The Filipino dish of Kinilaw blew me away. The dish is the Philippines’ take on ceviche. Essentially it is raw fish (local barracuda in my case) that has been cubed and marinated in vinegar, lemon, ginger, onions, and a variety of other peppers and local spices. Sitting at the seaside restaurant, with my feet in the sand and a cold Coke I could eat Kinilaw forever.
The island of Malapascua is tiny, and thus has no ATMs (the island is also run on a generator that needs to ‘rest’ everyday according to a sign in our hotel). Since I still did not have a new credit card from my incident in Beijing this did not matter to me, except that I essentially lived off of other people’s cards. As it turns out, every one of us budgeted teeeeerribly for the trip, and we had to constantly watch what we spent. This sucked since everything in the Philippines is dirt-cheap. We did manage to have a good time though, and after two days we were all ready to go back to the city of Cebu.
Cebu is the fifth largest city in the Philippines, and is among the sketchiest places I have ever been in my life. We found a nice cheap hotel in the center of the city and basked in the glory that is air conditioning upon our arrival. After a few hours of resting (and introducing my best friend from France to the amazingness that is the show Cops) we tried to get some dinner. Our concierge recommended we go to the Ayala Mall and nowhere else. Apparently the city is too dangerous for the likes of us to walk around finding food.
I must say I agreed completely. Thinking back to our cab rides we saw a country and walked a fine line between third world and developing. I saw people riding on top of speeding buses, little girls pumping water out of the ground, locals herding cows everywhere, and a duo on a mini bike that had dead chickens hanging from both sides. When I asked our driver about the small fires everywhere he replied that people there simply burn their garbage to get rid of it. In the short time I had been in the city I realized that it was not a place for my skinny white self to wander around at night (that is of course unless I was going between strip clubs).
The mall was much like those in the US, except armed guards were at every entrance, and you have to go through metal detectors. NBD. I got a t-shirt that says The Filipino is Worth Dying For,’ some shitty mall food and went back to our hotel. That night we all discovered what drives the economy of Cebu. SEX TOURISM.
The tourist channel on our TV presented us with an interesting array of ads for the strip clubs/brothels that are everywhere. Each one spoke of gorgeous girls, dancing and showed one ubercreepy overweight white guy drinking and smiling with Filipino women that could have been his daughters. As though this wasn’t creepy enough, we had the archetype of a gross white sex tourist staying in our very hotel! This guy was gross in every sense of the word. Old, fat, balding, pasty, and in desperate need of a good back waxing is what comes to mind when I think about this guy. He stared at us a lot, and my friend overheard him asking the concierge, ‘I mean, like, if I offered you a million Pesos… You’d have sex with me right?’ Guys like this were everywhere, and I felt truly sorry for the your Filipino women who live in their midst.
The rest of our time in Cebu was filled with a smorgasbord of interesting activities. We went to a beautiful Taoist temple where the guards managed to stop even me from taking pictures. Our cab driver (who we called for all our adventures) took us on a hunt for a cockfight, but unfortunately none were going on that night. He tempted us with an illegal drag race later that night, but it was too late for our taste. Instead we got to meet his racing friends, and we got to check out some illegal racing bikes.
There is a mountain that overlooks the city, and we spent our last night at its peak. For a few dollars we had our fill of grilled sausages, pork, beer, and coconut ice cream. It was almost as satisfying and relaxing as the bottle of rum we had later that night that cost approximately $1.50 USD. I was shocked that cheap alcohol could taste so good, and equally upset that we have nothing like it in the US.
The day of our flight we had a few hours to kill before we went to the airport, so naturally we had a spa day. For a few bucks people got massages, manicures, pedicures, and their nails done. I had two women give me a pedicure. I had my toenails painted bright red and got some sweet ghetto nail art added. I know the women were making fun of my because at one point I laughed when they laughed. All of the sudden it was silent and she asked, ‘You understand Tagalog? Do you know what (some word I don’t know) means? I’m sorry!’ Obviously I’m at a point in my life where I really don’t care what other people think, and I strutted out of the hotel in flip-flops with the prettiest feet in town.
We named our trip back The Thrilla In Manila, because we had a three-hour layover in the notoriously dangerous city. My roommate and I were not satisfied with the airport food, and left everyone else to get the golden arches across the street. This was more difficult than anticipated as we had to walk through a sketchy airport parking lot, up an exit ramp, sprint across a few lanes of a highway and skirt a construction site to reach our salvation. It was totally worth it. I met THE most enthusiastic workers I have ever seen, and had a meal that hit the spot in ways that are almost inappropriate to describe.
Back in the airport we had to pay a second ridiculous ‘gate fee’ to access our gate, and went to the duty free zone to try and find a bottle of liquid fun to kill the remaining time before our flight. We all ended up with our own bottles (I got an awesome bottle of Absolut that is wrapped in a dominatrixesque leather case), and spent so much time debating what to get that we ended up drinking nothing.
The trip was an interesting experience to be sure, but I don’t think I’ll be going back to the Philippines anytime soon. If anyone out there needs a crazy cab driver, a sex bar in Cebu or the location of a good place to enjoy sex and slum tourism please lemme know. I’m all over it.
P.S. Something everyone sees in the Philippines are the ladyboys. Its pretty much what it sounds like. Men dressed as women in questionable stages of sex changes roam the islands offering their ‘services’ to foreigners like myself. The closest I came to a ladyboy was in Malapascua. I was walking back to my hotel with my roommate Nikesh using a flashlight to guide the way (since obviously there are no lights at night), and a group of people walked past us. One of them reached out and touched Nikesh’s shoulder. In a very feminine voice said hello, but then in a voice reminiscent to a badass trucker offered ‘blowjob?’ We felt sufficiently awkward, and politely declined.
P.S.S. All of Asia seems to be obsessed with karaoke, or KTV as its called here. I expected that before I came, but was mystified by the phenomenon of people getting beaten and even killed for singing My Way by Frank Sinatra. I don’t know what Filipinos have against one of my favorite songs by Ol’ Blue Eyes, but they apparently go ape shit over anyone singing this song. I asked our cabbie about it, and he clearly knew what I was talking about. Yet, he suddenly lacked the English to explain why it happened. I still don’t know why it happens, but I mentally filed it under ‘Weird Shit I See In Asia That Defies Logic.’
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
And for a Dollar Less, You Can Not Waste a Dollar Here
I have the unfortunate travel tradition of getting myself extremely sick from time to time by partaking in the local flavors. Paris gave me a parasite in my stomach for a few months, Moscow gave me a hangover that lasted a few days, and Hong Kong has now graced my innards with an awesome case of food poisoning. I’ll spare you the messy details, but simply ask who doesn’t love a few hours of good old-fashioned dry heaving? Spending a day unable to leave your house is usually tolerable in the States where I have The Price Is Right, my mommy, and endless amounts of movies to entertain myself. In Hong Kong I watched Bloomberg news for six hours and actually got excited to see how the market would do as trading began in London. My day was exactly as much fun as it sounds.
Fortunately I was relatively better in 24 hours, and managed to join my friends for a low-key night out. The tallest building in Hong Kong is the International Financial Center (IFC), and the building has an awesome public space a few stories up where you can sit back, have a few drinks, and look out over Victoria Bay at the Kowloon skyline. Given the way that my stomach was on the fritz I took it easy, and enjoyed watching everyone else slowly make fools of themselves.
My favorite moment of the night was talking to a girl in my program right before I left. I found her curled up on a speaker in the back of the club. Apparently wearing heels out to dance for a few hours makes your feet hurt (duh), and she was taking a break from the dance floor. I soon discovered what ‘state’ she was in as I spent 10-minutes convincing here we were not in fact at a gay bar. She was having none of it, so I left it as a lost cause. When I wanted to leave a few minutes later with some people I thought, why not get that girl off the speaker with the sore feet? I literally got about two feet away from here when she popped up, screamed, ‘OMG I LOVE THIS SONG!’ and ran away dancing. Such is my life here.
If you are looking for a strange experience in Hong Kong, then go downtown on any Sunday and look around. Sunday is the one day a week all the immigrant Filipino and Indonesian people have off, and they spend it sprawled out on the streets of Central. I thought it would be people shopping, eating out, etc. FALSE. They were EVERYWHERE. On the streets, in tunnels, on bridges, everywhere. Basically imagine hundreds of Filipino women taking to the streets of a major city, and then sitting down in gossiping groups in every public space. It was seriously like watching normal people act like hobos. They had cardboard boxes set up as mats to sit on, and sometimes as walls to keep the other clucking hens out.
In the middle of it was a stage that had some kind of show going on. It was mostly in Tagalog, but I watched with my roommate anyways. There were women in traditional dress, some kind of game, and some teenage dancers that were killing their culture via a skanky dance to some American hip-hop song.
Having had enough of that I wandered around central Hong Kong with my roommate, and saw some cool stuff. For about a dollar you can see the Sun Yat Sen museum. And for a dollar less, you can not waste a dollar seeing the Sun Yat Sen museum. The exhibit is boring (though the man who founded the Chinese Republic is fascinating), and seems to be a tribute to the mausoleum in Nanjing where he is buried.
Near the museum is a long escalator that runs up the mountain and takes people through street after street of bars, restaurants, and tourist traps. I mostly appreciated the fact that the city has a giant escalator to take lazy people like yours truly up the hill.
The last thing I saw recently worth mentioning is Chinese New Years. Coming from America, my mental image of how New Years should proceed is a weeeee bit different from how the Chinese do it. It lasted for about two days, and the major attractions were a street festival, parade, and fireworks. The street festival was odd. It was six rows of merchants selling tiger themed stuff (since it’s the year of the tiger), and random things like blow up cell phones. It took about a half hour to slowly make our way down each crowded row, but it was interesting to see.
The parade on the other hand was less than peaceful. To get anywhere near the parade you have to elbow your way through a ton of people who elbow you back, and even then your view isn’t that great. After an hour or so of people craning their necks to see we were able to get semi close to the actual street. None of the floats were particularly impressive, but the Dutch on stilts, Brazilian dancers, and random French group (still not entirely sure what they were doing) were entertaining. When it was finally over at around 10 PM I got some random Turkish wrap that was TO DIE FOR, and we all went to the grocery store.
Now you are probably wondering why we went to the grocery store at that late hour. Everyone told us that the city shuts down on the actual New Years day, so we should get all the food, water, and wine that we needed to live though the day. Not knowing any better we did as we were told, and returned home with a bunch of food. The following day about 60% of everything was open. Lesson to be learned? Mc Donald’s never closes, and most people have no idea what they are talking about.
The fireworks were impressive. That being said, I watched them on TV. Not wanting to risk being late for our flight to the Philippines later in the evening (and also not wanting to walk a mile to see it) we stayed in my room with some Tsingdao and could even hear the show from my bed.
Chinese New Year was interesting to experience, but not at all what I expected. I guess the Asian restraint was something I should have expected, but I can always count on regular New Years to provide me with the kind of out of control behavior I like to see on TV.
P.S. At this point in my trip I should mention Team 1. Team 1 is the name my group of friends has given ourselves (for reasons I cannot remember), and the six of us are basically my best friends here. The group is comprised of-
• Nick- a hysterically awkward Jew from St. Louis
• Marine- a girl from Paris who is my best drinking buddy
• Natt- a Thai girl who is adorable and pretty much makes everyone happy by smiling and being super Asian
• Nikesh- my half Indian roommate who goes to GW and has an odd obsession with McDonald’s and movies
• David- a super chill guy from the Oklahoma and the only person here from TCU
I pretty much spend everyday with some combination of these people, and would probably be lonely/shoot myself if I didn’t have them to live with, drink with, talk to, and go on trips with.
Fortunately I was relatively better in 24 hours, and managed to join my friends for a low-key night out. The tallest building in Hong Kong is the International Financial Center (IFC), and the building has an awesome public space a few stories up where you can sit back, have a few drinks, and look out over Victoria Bay at the Kowloon skyline. Given the way that my stomach was on the fritz I took it easy, and enjoyed watching everyone else slowly make fools of themselves.
My favorite moment of the night was talking to a girl in my program right before I left. I found her curled up on a speaker in the back of the club. Apparently wearing heels out to dance for a few hours makes your feet hurt (duh), and she was taking a break from the dance floor. I soon discovered what ‘state’ she was in as I spent 10-minutes convincing here we were not in fact at a gay bar. She was having none of it, so I left it as a lost cause. When I wanted to leave a few minutes later with some people I thought, why not get that girl off the speaker with the sore feet? I literally got about two feet away from here when she popped up, screamed, ‘OMG I LOVE THIS SONG!’ and ran away dancing. Such is my life here.
If you are looking for a strange experience in Hong Kong, then go downtown on any Sunday and look around. Sunday is the one day a week all the immigrant Filipino and Indonesian people have off, and they spend it sprawled out on the streets of Central. I thought it would be people shopping, eating out, etc. FALSE. They were EVERYWHERE. On the streets, in tunnels, on bridges, everywhere. Basically imagine hundreds of Filipino women taking to the streets of a major city, and then sitting down in gossiping groups in every public space. It was seriously like watching normal people act like hobos. They had cardboard boxes set up as mats to sit on, and sometimes as walls to keep the other clucking hens out.
In the middle of it was a stage that had some kind of show going on. It was mostly in Tagalog, but I watched with my roommate anyways. There were women in traditional dress, some kind of game, and some teenage dancers that were killing their culture via a skanky dance to some American hip-hop song.
Having had enough of that I wandered around central Hong Kong with my roommate, and saw some cool stuff. For about a dollar you can see the Sun Yat Sen museum. And for a dollar less, you can not waste a dollar seeing the Sun Yat Sen museum. The exhibit is boring (though the man who founded the Chinese Republic is fascinating), and seems to be a tribute to the mausoleum in Nanjing where he is buried.
Near the museum is a long escalator that runs up the mountain and takes people through street after street of bars, restaurants, and tourist traps. I mostly appreciated the fact that the city has a giant escalator to take lazy people like yours truly up the hill.
The last thing I saw recently worth mentioning is Chinese New Years. Coming from America, my mental image of how New Years should proceed is a weeeee bit different from how the Chinese do it. It lasted for about two days, and the major attractions were a street festival, parade, and fireworks. The street festival was odd. It was six rows of merchants selling tiger themed stuff (since it’s the year of the tiger), and random things like blow up cell phones. It took about a half hour to slowly make our way down each crowded row, but it was interesting to see.
The parade on the other hand was less than peaceful. To get anywhere near the parade you have to elbow your way through a ton of people who elbow you back, and even then your view isn’t that great. After an hour or so of people craning their necks to see we were able to get semi close to the actual street. None of the floats were particularly impressive, but the Dutch on stilts, Brazilian dancers, and random French group (still not entirely sure what they were doing) were entertaining. When it was finally over at around 10 PM I got some random Turkish wrap that was TO DIE FOR, and we all went to the grocery store.
Now you are probably wondering why we went to the grocery store at that late hour. Everyone told us that the city shuts down on the actual New Years day, so we should get all the food, water, and wine that we needed to live though the day. Not knowing any better we did as we were told, and returned home with a bunch of food. The following day about 60% of everything was open. Lesson to be learned? Mc Donald’s never closes, and most people have no idea what they are talking about.
The fireworks were impressive. That being said, I watched them on TV. Not wanting to risk being late for our flight to the Philippines later in the evening (and also not wanting to walk a mile to see it) we stayed in my room with some Tsingdao and could even hear the show from my bed.
Chinese New Year was interesting to experience, but not at all what I expected. I guess the Asian restraint was something I should have expected, but I can always count on regular New Years to provide me with the kind of out of control behavior I like to see on TV.
P.S. At this point in my trip I should mention Team 1. Team 1 is the name my group of friends has given ourselves (for reasons I cannot remember), and the six of us are basically my best friends here. The group is comprised of-
• Nick- a hysterically awkward Jew from St. Louis
• Marine- a girl from Paris who is my best drinking buddy
• Natt- a Thai girl who is adorable and pretty much makes everyone happy by smiling and being super Asian
• Nikesh- my half Indian roommate who goes to GW and has an odd obsession with McDonald’s and movies
• David- a super chill guy from the Oklahoma and the only person here from TCU
I pretty much spend everyday with some combination of these people, and would probably be lonely/shoot myself if I didn’t have them to live with, drink with, talk to, and go on trips with.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Japanland!
I finally got my Japan pictures up! Youtube cares about copyright BS, but this site doesn't! So enjoy the music from Lost In Translation, and the recap of my trip! Let met know what you think! http://vimeo.com/9422719
Monday, February 8, 2010
Seriously... It's Not Like We Are Dealing Brittany's Dignity Here
Before I regale you with tales of Hong Kong, I need to get something off my chest. I was told to expect people to move slowly in Hong Kong, and that I should prepare myself to stop speed walking everywhere. I thought I was fine with that. I even thought I was doing well with the hordes of hobbling old women in Japan. Yet here I am in HK and all I can think is ‘If someone doesn’t pick up the damn pace I’m goin Third Reich style on this crowd. ‘ JESUS CHRIST do these people move slow. Its not just the old people (of which there are lots at all hours of the day and night) that saunter through the streets of HK, adults and kids alike all go along with it. And if this isn’t frustrating enough, no one moves on escalators.
While this might not seem like a big deal, the city is full of deep metro stops, malls, and mountains. All of which contain lots of escalators that are just begging me to march up them. In DC I wouldn’t hesitate to elbow my way around the occasional douche bag ‘esca-lefter,’ and I would obviously get out of someone’s way if I wasn’t walking up. The people of HK do not share my sentiments. Maybe everyone here is a master of time management and can leave 20-min early to tip toe their way everywhere, but I doubt I will master that skill ANY time soon.
Anyways, enough complaining. I am back in HK and its wonderful. I literally do not know where to start, and I’ve only been back for a week and a half! Without getting too annoying and happy happy joy joy sounding I’ll start with my lodgings. I live in an area called Yau Ma Te in Kowloon (Google it if you really want to know more) in a hotel. Thankfully past groups smoked enough things in my program’s former housing complexes that we now spend the semester in a hotel rather than dorms (throwback to Thurston anyone?).
The room isn’t huge, but it works. I get all the amenities of living in a hotel, along with all the disadvantages (i.e can’t cook food, do my own laundry, etc.). It’s a great location, and I live with pretty much everyone I know here. My roommate is a really cool guy from Chicago that goes to GW, and I’m sometimes a little terrified of how much we agree on things.
Classes seem pretty easy, and compared to GW they are a joke. I have no classes before noon (thank god), but go till 8:30ish most weekdays. The professors are a mix of Chinese, Aussies, and random expats.
I won’t go on about school things, because I personally hate hearing about other people’s classes, friends, schedules and other study abroad things I’m never going to see or remember. With those boring details aside, lets talk about the interesting aspects of Hong Kong.
As an American product of supermarkets and Costcos I am constantly amazed that other cultures don’t get all their shopping done at one or two places. The economic capitalist in me shudders at how inefficient going to multiple specialized markets for goods is, but there is something to be said for the local markets of Hong Kong.
For instance, I went to the bird market. I walked via the flower market, via the aquarium market, via the ladies market, via an electronics market. The markets are rarely more than a few blocks long, and you can find pretty much any variation of what you need there. They are something that everyone must experience in HK, and they’re impossible to avoid if you walk anywhere in Kowloon.
The only downside of the markets is that they move EVEN SLOWER than the rest of the city. My friends and I thought we had found a solution to this by walking through alleys, but ended up extremely lost. We DID however manage to find a hotdog place (which my Chicago roommate and I were extremely happy about). But like most ‘Western’ places in Asia it was odd and nothing about the dog was anywhere close to what I expected or wanted (I’ll use this opportunity to reemphasize that this continent has no idea what mustard is).
The food in HK is great and… interesting. You can get every type of Asian food imaginable obviously, and there is Chinese food galore. My two favorite Asian food experiences were a Chinese place that seated us in the street on a plastic stool, and an Indonesian restaurant that had a Happy Birthday theme 365-days a year. On the other hand, Western food is imitated here… poorly. I ordered pizza and was offered a curious choice sauce of tomato or Thousand Island Dressing, and quite surprised to find that my cheeseburger had a option of cucumber and squid. Unfortunately it seems like the damn Canadians or French have been here since I am in a constant battle to communicate how I don’t want ANY damn mayonnaise on my food. Obviously Western food has made it here in name, but the details are still being hammered out.
One place that is the same everywhere is, of course, McDonalds. When you are in a rush, need something cheap, or simply want to get exactly what you order the golden arches are always there to save the day. I still refuse to order more than about five things off their menu, but I a terrible part of me is comforted by the greasy shit they serve. My only qualm is that they give out ketchup like its Brittany Spears’ dignity and the world is surely going to run out if you ask for one more packet. Seriously, I could deal with a little less stank eye when I ask for more than one more packet.
Hong Kong is the world’s most vertical city. This is a fact I love. Skyscrapers, big buildings, and epic skylines all appeal to me and confirm my faith that I will always be a city person. Though something I could not quite figure out was why so many buildings from the 80s were still around with AC units hanging off their sides. Eventually it became apparent that if you knocked down one building, you would pretty much have to demolish the entire block because things are built so close together here. Apparently the Brits used to do it more, but the Chinese have more important things to do nowadays.
To contrast the hyper urban feeling of the streets, Hong Kong is essentially settled around a bunch of mountainous islands that are very steep and very green. I live on the 12th floor of my building, and my view is of the side of one of these mounts that is about 30-feet away. I found it interesting that the HK government is constantly pouring concrete all over their mountains to prevent erosion and landslides. To use my Grandmother’s favorite descriptor, it’s really neat!
P.S. What entry would be complete without a mention of something sketchy or less than sober? In a few short days here I have found some awesome bars and supermarkets. I mention the supermarkets only because their wine is cheap ☺. In terms of awesome bars there is a place called Balalaika (sound it out). It’s automatically a win because Lenin’s bust is at the entrance, but the rest of the Russian watering hole is awesomely unique. A regular bar is available for regular people, but for the adventurous (or people who prefer being cold over anything else like me) there is an ice bar. Essentially it’s a walk in freezer in which you wear fur coats and do shots of a variety of vodkas (I refused to let my friends order non-Russian vodka at this establishment). I would absolutely love to go back, order a bottle of vodka with a few people, and let my alcohol blanket slowly replace the fur until I was ready to do the Booz-ahol Shuffle out and around the neighborhood.
While this might not seem like a big deal, the city is full of deep metro stops, malls, and mountains. All of which contain lots of escalators that are just begging me to march up them. In DC I wouldn’t hesitate to elbow my way around the occasional douche bag ‘esca-lefter,’ and I would obviously get out of someone’s way if I wasn’t walking up. The people of HK do not share my sentiments. Maybe everyone here is a master of time management and can leave 20-min early to tip toe their way everywhere, but I doubt I will master that skill ANY time soon.
Anyways, enough complaining. I am back in HK and its wonderful. I literally do not know where to start, and I’ve only been back for a week and a half! Without getting too annoying and happy happy joy joy sounding I’ll start with my lodgings. I live in an area called Yau Ma Te in Kowloon (Google it if you really want to know more) in a hotel. Thankfully past groups smoked enough things in my program’s former housing complexes that we now spend the semester in a hotel rather than dorms (throwback to Thurston anyone?).
The room isn’t huge, but it works. I get all the amenities of living in a hotel, along with all the disadvantages (i.e can’t cook food, do my own laundry, etc.). It’s a great location, and I live with pretty much everyone I know here. My roommate is a really cool guy from Chicago that goes to GW, and I’m sometimes a little terrified of how much we agree on things.
Classes seem pretty easy, and compared to GW they are a joke. I have no classes before noon (thank god), but go till 8:30ish most weekdays. The professors are a mix of Chinese, Aussies, and random expats.
I won’t go on about school things, because I personally hate hearing about other people’s classes, friends, schedules and other study abroad things I’m never going to see or remember. With those boring details aside, lets talk about the interesting aspects of Hong Kong.
As an American product of supermarkets and Costcos I am constantly amazed that other cultures don’t get all their shopping done at one or two places. The economic capitalist in me shudders at how inefficient going to multiple specialized markets for goods is, but there is something to be said for the local markets of Hong Kong.
For instance, I went to the bird market. I walked via the flower market, via the aquarium market, via the ladies market, via an electronics market. The markets are rarely more than a few blocks long, and you can find pretty much any variation of what you need there. They are something that everyone must experience in HK, and they’re impossible to avoid if you walk anywhere in Kowloon.
The only downside of the markets is that they move EVEN SLOWER than the rest of the city. My friends and I thought we had found a solution to this by walking through alleys, but ended up extremely lost. We DID however manage to find a hotdog place (which my Chicago roommate and I were extremely happy about). But like most ‘Western’ places in Asia it was odd and nothing about the dog was anywhere close to what I expected or wanted (I’ll use this opportunity to reemphasize that this continent has no idea what mustard is).
The food in HK is great and… interesting. You can get every type of Asian food imaginable obviously, and there is Chinese food galore. My two favorite Asian food experiences were a Chinese place that seated us in the street on a plastic stool, and an Indonesian restaurant that had a Happy Birthday theme 365-days a year. On the other hand, Western food is imitated here… poorly. I ordered pizza and was offered a curious choice sauce of tomato or Thousand Island Dressing, and quite surprised to find that my cheeseburger had a option of cucumber and squid. Unfortunately it seems like the damn Canadians or French have been here since I am in a constant battle to communicate how I don’t want ANY damn mayonnaise on my food. Obviously Western food has made it here in name, but the details are still being hammered out.
One place that is the same everywhere is, of course, McDonalds. When you are in a rush, need something cheap, or simply want to get exactly what you order the golden arches are always there to save the day. I still refuse to order more than about five things off their menu, but I a terrible part of me is comforted by the greasy shit they serve. My only qualm is that they give out ketchup like its Brittany Spears’ dignity and the world is surely going to run out if you ask for one more packet. Seriously, I could deal with a little less stank eye when I ask for more than one more packet.
Hong Kong is the world’s most vertical city. This is a fact I love. Skyscrapers, big buildings, and epic skylines all appeal to me and confirm my faith that I will always be a city person. Though something I could not quite figure out was why so many buildings from the 80s were still around with AC units hanging off their sides. Eventually it became apparent that if you knocked down one building, you would pretty much have to demolish the entire block because things are built so close together here. Apparently the Brits used to do it more, but the Chinese have more important things to do nowadays.
To contrast the hyper urban feeling of the streets, Hong Kong is essentially settled around a bunch of mountainous islands that are very steep and very green. I live on the 12th floor of my building, and my view is of the side of one of these mounts that is about 30-feet away. I found it interesting that the HK government is constantly pouring concrete all over their mountains to prevent erosion and landslides. To use my Grandmother’s favorite descriptor, it’s really neat!
P.S. What entry would be complete without a mention of something sketchy or less than sober? In a few short days here I have found some awesome bars and supermarkets. I mention the supermarkets only because their wine is cheap ☺. In terms of awesome bars there is a place called Balalaika (sound it out). It’s automatically a win because Lenin’s bust is at the entrance, but the rest of the Russian watering hole is awesomely unique. A regular bar is available for regular people, but for the adventurous (or people who prefer being cold over anything else like me) there is an ice bar. Essentially it’s a walk in freezer in which you wear fur coats and do shots of a variety of vodkas (I refused to let my friends order non-Russian vodka at this establishment). I would absolutely love to go back, order a bottle of vodka with a few people, and let my alcohol blanket slowly replace the fur until I was ready to do the Booz-ahol Shuffle out and around the neighborhood.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Hello Hello Lady We Hello Your Hello Kitty?
My preferred form of transportation is increasingly becoming via train. Throughout Europe and Japan the rail systems are a relaxing, quick, and convenient way to get around. When I heard that we were talking an overnight train from Beijing to Shanghai I expected (and kinda hoped for) a rickety old Thomas the Tank Engine kind of train that belched out smoke as the Chinese passengers did the same with packs of unfiltered ciggs and bottles of beer. Ok maybe I was expecting a Soviet train from 1955, but a guy can dream.
I was shocked when we arrived at our train that looked almost exactly like the Shinkansen trains in Japan. While our quarters were tight, we got little bottles of Tibetan water and cheap beer to pass the time. Aside from the temperature (which rose throughout the night) and my inability to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time, it was an awesome experience.
Arriving in Shanghai we were met by our tour guide Rainy. I will get this outta the way right now and admit my love for Rainy. She was ADORABLE. I didn’t see many cute Chinese people over the age of about five on my trip, but I wanted to make Rainy into a keychain so I could take her with me everywhere. She showed us her eye exercises from school, warned us not to follow ‘Rolex Men’ or ‘Hello Ladies’ and had an accent that we still impersonate. SO much Chinese love for her!
Anyways, back to Shanghai. The city is overloaded with skyscrapers and all things modern. I loved walking around taking it all in, and was delighted that our hotel (which was an old apartment building for rich white people- hollerrrrrr) was right in the middle of it on Nanjing Road.
Alas, I started the tour by missing our bus and cabbing it to a museum I thought to be a mile away. In reality it was across a small park from me ☹. We toured the extremely underwhelming Shanghai Museum (which has been compared to the British Museum by someone who obviously had never been to the British Museum), and after a quick dinner took a strange ‘tour’ of the Bund.
The Bund is an area of old preserved buildings from the time when foreign merchants held sway in the city along the Huangpu River. Our ‘tour’ was by bus since the area across the street from the buildings was under construction. I was disappointed at the lack of commentary on the historic buildings, and the way in which our bus flew past everything. At the end of our ‘tour’ we were dumped out of the bus in the middle of the Bund, and apparently expected to walk back to the hotel. I didn’t mind much since it was so pretty, but still felt a little gypped.
To make up for this, I had myself a bottle of Chinese wine with some friends. It was in Shanghai that I started to taste Chinese wines, and I honestly had no idea what to expect. Fortunately my lack of expectations meant that I wasn’t too disappointed by the mediocre drink. Don’t get me wrong though. I love wine, and had no problem drinking the rest of it. All I’m saying is that China has a way to go before it starts producing good cheap wine like the Aussies.
The rest of my time in Shanghai was spent doing all the usual touristy stuff. We went to the new financial area of Pudong to see the famous buildings, and went to an old (yet very touristy) town that was filled with canals and bridges galore. It was all good and fine, but honestly the most entertaining part was realizing we had forgot someone who had to take an hour cab ride home.
The coolest thing we saw in Shanghai was undoubtedly the acrobatic show. The showcase of random Chinese acrobatic talents was out of this world, and for two hours we were blown away by performers jumping, flexing and balancing in ways that my would put me in the hospital. My favorite acts are tied between the ‘Jack and Rose’ and the ‘Ball of Death.’
Jack and Rose was a duet of two acrobats swinging around the theater on a long cloth to theme of Titanic’s My Heart Will Go On. I was sure they would eventually fall or drop each other off the rope, but the pair did their routine flawlessly to my amazement. In case you didn’t quite catch the theme it was Titanic. Oh sweet Jebus was it hysterical. For about 20-minutes My Heart Will Go On was spliced together over and over again for dramatic effect. To make it even better a bunch of Indian people behind us knew the words, and were singing along the whole time. The icing on this ridiculous cake was that on huge screens next to the stage the memorable scenes from the movie were played just in case you somehow managed to forget the theme of the act.
The finale of the show was the ‘Ball of Death.’ This consisted not one, not two, not three, not even four, but five guys on motorbikes riding around in insanely close proximity to each other. I was a little disappointed that they didn’t all crash, but was enthralled anyway.
Everyone I talked to told me about how safe Shanghai is. I felt pretty safe the whole time I was there, and was shocked when two people from my group were robbed at knifepoint right outside our hotel in two days. Now I cannot speak to their sobriety level or how closely they paid attention to their surroundings, but the fact remains that they were threatened with ghetto knives and I was freaked out.
On a lighter note, I had a pretty awesome adventure with some peeps from my program. After one day of touring we were given the evening off. We started out eating some delicious dumplings that literally cost several cents. From there, we made our way to the world’s fastest train, the Maglev. The train floats along a magnetic path to the airport at several hundred kilometers per hour, and is made infinitely better by ingesting some cheap Chinese alcohol with a meal of nutritious grease from Mc D’s.
Upon arriving at the airport we found the bar, realized everything was really expensive, and found a vending machine that sold beer and mixers. Once we had our liquid fun we found a bus back to the city, and hopped on without a clue as to the price (no one spoke enough English to tell us, we weren’t THAT drunk). A few kuai later we were on our merry way back to Shanghai. Upon arriving we visited a building I was dying to see because (and I’m sure you can guess why) it was a relic of Soviet influence. The Shanghai Exhibition Center was formerly known as the Palace of Sino-Soviet Friendship. While the friendship obviously didn’t last, the beautiful Stalinist style building did. A few pictures later we sauntered back to the hotel. As we got closer we noticed some police lights and someone joked, “I really hope those lights are for someone in our group that got robbed again!” Turns out they were, and we called him an asshole. But seriously, it was really funny.
By the end of our trip I had been traveling pretty much nonstop for about a month, and hadn’t slept in one place for more than a few days. I was ready to go back to Hong Kong and settle down for a while to recover from the sickness that had slowly taken over my body in the last week. Fortunately I managed to get a really cool roommate for the semester, and even made a few friends. While I enjoyed seeing Mainland China, it is not a place I can see myself living in (the same is not true of Hong Kong).
P.S. Everyone thinks of China as a great place to buy really cheap stuff. It totally is, but the quality is often shit. Feel the terracotta warriors I bought on the cheap for instance, and then look at the black soot that rubs off on your hands. My favorite part of the warnings from our guides was their terms for ‘fresh antiques’ and ‘recent relics’ that we should beware of in the markets. They were indeed everywhere. But lets be honest who’s NOT going to buy a poster from the revolution for a dollar?
P.S.S. On the list of cheap shit to buy in China, alcohol is surely up there. I have no idea what I had, but I tried some potent sauce in Red China. Some of it smelled fine, but felt like acid dripping down my throat. The two bottles I remember most clearly are: a bottle of horrid smelling bottle of what I thought to be grain alcohol (it turned out to be cooking alcohol, but when mixed with Sprite and OJ what doesn’t taste good?), and some alcohol that cost about a dollar for a little bottle that ‘farmers’ drink to quickly get fucked up (or so I was told). Anyways, the point is that alcohol there is dirt-cheap and probably ate away a few layers of my liver’s lining. So come to China and try the local flavor, but bring some extra cash money dollar to drop on the good stuff.
I was shocked when we arrived at our train that looked almost exactly like the Shinkansen trains in Japan. While our quarters were tight, we got little bottles of Tibetan water and cheap beer to pass the time. Aside from the temperature (which rose throughout the night) and my inability to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time, it was an awesome experience.
Arriving in Shanghai we were met by our tour guide Rainy. I will get this outta the way right now and admit my love for Rainy. She was ADORABLE. I didn’t see many cute Chinese people over the age of about five on my trip, but I wanted to make Rainy into a keychain so I could take her with me everywhere. She showed us her eye exercises from school, warned us not to follow ‘Rolex Men’ or ‘Hello Ladies’ and had an accent that we still impersonate. SO much Chinese love for her!
Anyways, back to Shanghai. The city is overloaded with skyscrapers and all things modern. I loved walking around taking it all in, and was delighted that our hotel (which was an old apartment building for rich white people- hollerrrrrr) was right in the middle of it on Nanjing Road.
Alas, I started the tour by missing our bus and cabbing it to a museum I thought to be a mile away. In reality it was across a small park from me ☹. We toured the extremely underwhelming Shanghai Museum (which has been compared to the British Museum by someone who obviously had never been to the British Museum), and after a quick dinner took a strange ‘tour’ of the Bund.
The Bund is an area of old preserved buildings from the time when foreign merchants held sway in the city along the Huangpu River. Our ‘tour’ was by bus since the area across the street from the buildings was under construction. I was disappointed at the lack of commentary on the historic buildings, and the way in which our bus flew past everything. At the end of our ‘tour’ we were dumped out of the bus in the middle of the Bund, and apparently expected to walk back to the hotel. I didn’t mind much since it was so pretty, but still felt a little gypped.
To make up for this, I had myself a bottle of Chinese wine with some friends. It was in Shanghai that I started to taste Chinese wines, and I honestly had no idea what to expect. Fortunately my lack of expectations meant that I wasn’t too disappointed by the mediocre drink. Don’t get me wrong though. I love wine, and had no problem drinking the rest of it. All I’m saying is that China has a way to go before it starts producing good cheap wine like the Aussies.
The rest of my time in Shanghai was spent doing all the usual touristy stuff. We went to the new financial area of Pudong to see the famous buildings, and went to an old (yet very touristy) town that was filled with canals and bridges galore. It was all good and fine, but honestly the most entertaining part was realizing we had forgot someone who had to take an hour cab ride home.
The coolest thing we saw in Shanghai was undoubtedly the acrobatic show. The showcase of random Chinese acrobatic talents was out of this world, and for two hours we were blown away by performers jumping, flexing and balancing in ways that my would put me in the hospital. My favorite acts are tied between the ‘Jack and Rose’ and the ‘Ball of Death.’
Jack and Rose was a duet of two acrobats swinging around the theater on a long cloth to theme of Titanic’s My Heart Will Go On. I was sure they would eventually fall or drop each other off the rope, but the pair did their routine flawlessly to my amazement. In case you didn’t quite catch the theme it was Titanic. Oh sweet Jebus was it hysterical. For about 20-minutes My Heart Will Go On was spliced together over and over again for dramatic effect. To make it even better a bunch of Indian people behind us knew the words, and were singing along the whole time. The icing on this ridiculous cake was that on huge screens next to the stage the memorable scenes from the movie were played just in case you somehow managed to forget the theme of the act.
The finale of the show was the ‘Ball of Death.’ This consisted not one, not two, not three, not even four, but five guys on motorbikes riding around in insanely close proximity to each other. I was a little disappointed that they didn’t all crash, but was enthralled anyway.
Everyone I talked to told me about how safe Shanghai is. I felt pretty safe the whole time I was there, and was shocked when two people from my group were robbed at knifepoint right outside our hotel in two days. Now I cannot speak to their sobriety level or how closely they paid attention to their surroundings, but the fact remains that they were threatened with ghetto knives and I was freaked out.
On a lighter note, I had a pretty awesome adventure with some peeps from my program. After one day of touring we were given the evening off. We started out eating some delicious dumplings that literally cost several cents. From there, we made our way to the world’s fastest train, the Maglev. The train floats along a magnetic path to the airport at several hundred kilometers per hour, and is made infinitely better by ingesting some cheap Chinese alcohol with a meal of nutritious grease from Mc D’s.
Upon arriving at the airport we found the bar, realized everything was really expensive, and found a vending machine that sold beer and mixers. Once we had our liquid fun we found a bus back to the city, and hopped on without a clue as to the price (no one spoke enough English to tell us, we weren’t THAT drunk). A few kuai later we were on our merry way back to Shanghai. Upon arriving we visited a building I was dying to see because (and I’m sure you can guess why) it was a relic of Soviet influence. The Shanghai Exhibition Center was formerly known as the Palace of Sino-Soviet Friendship. While the friendship obviously didn’t last, the beautiful Stalinist style building did. A few pictures later we sauntered back to the hotel. As we got closer we noticed some police lights and someone joked, “I really hope those lights are for someone in our group that got robbed again!” Turns out they were, and we called him an asshole. But seriously, it was really funny.
By the end of our trip I had been traveling pretty much nonstop for about a month, and hadn’t slept in one place for more than a few days. I was ready to go back to Hong Kong and settle down for a while to recover from the sickness that had slowly taken over my body in the last week. Fortunately I managed to get a really cool roommate for the semester, and even made a few friends. While I enjoyed seeing Mainland China, it is not a place I can see myself living in (the same is not true of Hong Kong).
P.S. Everyone thinks of China as a great place to buy really cheap stuff. It totally is, but the quality is often shit. Feel the terracotta warriors I bought on the cheap for instance, and then look at the black soot that rubs off on your hands. My favorite part of the warnings from our guides was their terms for ‘fresh antiques’ and ‘recent relics’ that we should beware of in the markets. They were indeed everywhere. But lets be honest who’s NOT going to buy a poster from the revolution for a dollar?
P.S.S. On the list of cheap shit to buy in China, alcohol is surely up there. I have no idea what I had, but I tried some potent sauce in Red China. Some of it smelled fine, but felt like acid dripping down my throat. The two bottles I remember most clearly are: a bottle of horrid smelling bottle of what I thought to be grain alcohol (it turned out to be cooking alcohol, but when mixed with Sprite and OJ what doesn’t taste good?), and some alcohol that cost about a dollar for a little bottle that ‘farmers’ drink to quickly get fucked up (or so I was told). Anyways, the point is that alcohol there is dirt-cheap and probably ate away a few layers of my liver’s lining. So come to China and try the local flavor, but bring some extra cash money dollar to drop on the good stuff.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
OMG Guys There Are Prostitutes In the Basement!
Previously on The Year of Tom I mentioned my initial disappointment with the modern day communist’s favorite square, Tiananmen. My best advice for anyone is don’t go during the day. Instead go at night.
During one of our free afternoons I went on a little adventure by myself to see some of the modern buildings not included on my program’s itinerary. I took the metro out to the new CCTV Tower first, which seemed to shock most people in my group since the metro was certainly a maze for only getting lost and robbed. I can assure you the Beijing metro is as modern and easy to use as any system in the Western world.
The CCTV building is the future home of the Chinese Central Television network (aka censorship for the masses YAY!). While you might not recognize it by name, think back to all the super modern buildings that were all over the news during the Beijing Olympics. The tower is like a giant Z with a hole in the middle. Being the sucker for crazy modern architecture that I am, I was very excited to see it in real life.
The building itself was awesome. But like most things in modern China, there was something that completely ruined the feel of the building. During the building’s construction the construction company set off fireworks in the site and unsurprisingly set an adjacent building on fire. The burnt out shell of the structure is VERY obviously standing next to the tower, and apparently they can’t knock it down because of some structural issue that I don’t understand. On top of that, there is a hideous rusty sheet metal fence surrounding the Tower. All together it is a startling reminder of how modern, yet far behind, China is from the rest of the world.
My next stop was the National Opera House. Located next to Tiananmen Square, this building is essentially a giant glass dome surrounded by a reflecting pool to give the illusion of a giant egg. Now I’m a pretty eclectic person, and am a total believer in the potential of mixing the best elements of different styles to produce something unique and beautiful. But this modern egg thing with the pillars of communism right next to it is as awkward and out of place as I. M. Pei’s glass pyramids at the Louvre that stand as a scar on the face of Paris. On its own, the structure is very impressive, and the full egg illusion is entrancing to stare at. But its obvious that China was trying a liiiiiiittle too hard to look cool and modern without considering the rest of their cityscape.
Since it was dark out, and the edge of Tiananmen Square was just around the corner, I decided to stroll on over and take a second look. This was among the best decisions I have ever randomly made. The Square at night is TOTALLY different. First, the Square is emptied of tourists at night. Aside from the joy of not seeing hoards of people with their screaming pooping offspring dressed in panda hats, you can really see the Square in its entirety. In the middle of the darkness is a giant ten-story obelisk to the People’s Heros that seems to stand as a reminder that there is ONLY ONE party in this country, and no one else is allowed within a mile of challenging it.
Every building surrounding the Square is also lit up, and they all become much more impressive with the contrast of the black night sky in the background much the same way the National Mall in DC does. Of course, you can’t miss Mao. His giant picture at the end of Tiananmen is a reminder of the country’s love affair with the great leader.
One of the great tragedies of modern history is the Cultural Revolution. The death and destruction of just about everything by no means spared Beijing. There is a fair amount to see and do in the city, but guidebooks are strangely missing the amount of historical buildings and sites that one would expect from such an important capital. Stories of the former glory of the city left me thinking ‘Thanks Mao… asshole.’
Before I forget to mention this, we went to the Great Wall! The Wall should be on everyone’s list of ‘things I must see before I die’. Words cannot describe the enormity and sense of Place at this Wonder of the Ancient World, and I will not attempt to do so. Rather, I’ll mention a few things I liked. The vendors perched all over the Wall were relentless, and tried everything to be my friend. I kept telling them I’d hit ‘em up on the way back from my walk, and unfortunately they remembered. When you get to the sign that says ‘No Access Beyond This Point’ blow past it like a Green Peace hippy at home asking for a ‘moment of your time.’ The best parts of the wall are the sections that haven’t been restored yet, and which give you better views. Lastly, take the little toboggan track down, unless you are really fat or can’t control your speed. Obviously I raced down with my friends at top speed. This worked out until the guy in front of me tipped and fell off. The resulting crash wasn’t too bad, minus the Mike Tyson style punch my kidneys took from the cart behind me.
In all good traveling sagas the best stories usually come from random experiences, being drunk and things that go horribly wrong. With that in mind, here are a few stories I will never forget. In the random experience category we have B1. Our hotel in Beijing was very nice, modern, and warm. But not all was as legit below ground. I knew something awesome was up when I heard someone say ‘OMG guys there are prostitutes in the basement!’ Immediately I listened in to get the DL on what was up, and of course decided to go down and investigate with a buddy. On B1 (as it was labeled in the elevator) we exited the elevator to a strange scene. A concierge, bouncer, small Chinese band of women with instruments, and a line of scantily clad women greeted us. Obviously we were not welcome there as the bouncer (or concierge? There really wasn’t a difference) quickly escorted us to the gym.
After poking around the gym for a minute we got down to business and started sneaking around the floor like Scooby Doo and the gang, only with the real threat of pimps and bouncers doing us serious harm. It was a labyrinth of dimly lit rooms with couches, tables, TVs, etc. Occasionally we saw some sketchy men and a girl or two, but we knew that staring was probably a bad idea. Near the end of our wandering a bunch of women in bikinis walked past us to what I can only assume to be a room where Chinese businessmen ‘chose’ them. Convinced that we had found an exclusive brothel/strip club we finally left to tell the tale of sketchiness.
Later that night several girls heard one of these ‘women of the night’ screaming at the top of her skanky lungs in a room next to theirs. The hotel moved them to a suite the next day. Sketchy win.
One night we all went out to a bar area, and ended up at a place called Shooters. We went to ‘bond’ and somehow ended up on the falling down side of tipsy. Surprising for a group of American students right? This was relatively unremarkable except for a few minor details. One, a local Chinese guy at the bar took pictures with us. He was old and creeped on the girls, but I liked him. Two, there was a weird smoking den over the dance floor, and every time I looked up Chinese people were staring at us. Three, even outside the bar across the street with some people it was obvious when Empire State of Mind came on cuz EVERY American on the street bolted back to the bar, screamed the song at the top of their lungs, and danced like their was no tomorrow.
My favorite experience in Beijing was going to the Moscow Restaurant. In the heart of the Russian district of the city I was able to fully indulge my obsession with everything Russian. I went with three of my friends to this place, and had an amazing meal of Boyar Style beef, caviar, and vodka. The restaurant exemplified everything about Russia that I had hoped it would. First, the façade was a huge neon sign of Spasskaya Tower. Second, the place was filled with sketchy Russian people who looked like they were about to pick up their shipments of AK-47s in the back. Third, they had caviar, which was Yummy Dummy in my Tummy. The food was excellent, as was the vodka (although everyone else at the table insisted that it was rubbing alcohol unfit for consumption). Lastly, a terrible singer who sang Russian, Chinese, and English songs into a VERY loud stereo system, serenaded our dinner as row after row of half naked women danced around the dance floor. It was a very authentically Russian experience indeed.
On the subject of things going horribly wrong I was pick pocketed. I was at a bar, and it was probably my own damn fault for not paying enough attention. But at any, rate I had a few hundred USD swiped.
I guess it happens to every traveler at some point. The most frustrating part of it all is the feeling of helplessness without any cash. I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by friends who helped me out, but living on borrowed cash is not a fun way to travel. Unfortunately I had no choice but to add it onto the rapidly growing list ‘unexpected expenses’ that have been draining my savings. The only positive thing I can be happy about is that I intentionally left all my nonessentials at home (unfortunately that didn’t include my awesome 10 trillion Zimbabwe dollar), and I am now even more paranoid about being robbed.
P.S. Every once in a while something happens that makes me SO miserable that my face seems to spell ‘fuck everything’ and I immediately get my man period. One such episode was a trip to the Temple of Heaven. Lets set the scene. Its 7:30 AM (aka Death O’Clock). Outside the temperature is about freezing. I have just been pick pocketed the night before. I am hung over, and sick. Got the mental image? OK, so some genius decided to get us up at the ass crack of dawn to go to the Temple of Heaven for a ‘Tai Chi Lesson.’ I went because the Temple is beautiful, and I wanted some pictures (and maybe to learn something about Tai Chi).
When we got there we walked past a bunch of old Chinese people playing Chinese games, and doing their morning Tai Chi. We were brought to an old man who said nothing, and simply played his ‘All You Can Eat Chinese Buffet’ style music through some cassette player from 1985 as he did his routine. After a few minutes of freezing, we were invited to copy his moves and do Tai Chi. I made it approximately three minutes before my entire body said screw this, and I stood off to the side. I learned not a goddamn thing, and I took pictures for about two minutes before I booked it back to the bus.
So what is to be learned from this? One, Google Tai Chi from the comfort of your own home before you do it. Two, choose a livable hour to try it out. Three, for the love of god don’t dance around in 30-degree winds unless you have magical Chinese skin that can find some sense of relaxation from it.
During one of our free afternoons I went on a little adventure by myself to see some of the modern buildings not included on my program’s itinerary. I took the metro out to the new CCTV Tower first, which seemed to shock most people in my group since the metro was certainly a maze for only getting lost and robbed. I can assure you the Beijing metro is as modern and easy to use as any system in the Western world.
The CCTV building is the future home of the Chinese Central Television network (aka censorship for the masses YAY!). While you might not recognize it by name, think back to all the super modern buildings that were all over the news during the Beijing Olympics. The tower is like a giant Z with a hole in the middle. Being the sucker for crazy modern architecture that I am, I was very excited to see it in real life.
The building itself was awesome. But like most things in modern China, there was something that completely ruined the feel of the building. During the building’s construction the construction company set off fireworks in the site and unsurprisingly set an adjacent building on fire. The burnt out shell of the structure is VERY obviously standing next to the tower, and apparently they can’t knock it down because of some structural issue that I don’t understand. On top of that, there is a hideous rusty sheet metal fence surrounding the Tower. All together it is a startling reminder of how modern, yet far behind, China is from the rest of the world.
My next stop was the National Opera House. Located next to Tiananmen Square, this building is essentially a giant glass dome surrounded by a reflecting pool to give the illusion of a giant egg. Now I’m a pretty eclectic person, and am a total believer in the potential of mixing the best elements of different styles to produce something unique and beautiful. But this modern egg thing with the pillars of communism right next to it is as awkward and out of place as I. M. Pei’s glass pyramids at the Louvre that stand as a scar on the face of Paris. On its own, the structure is very impressive, and the full egg illusion is entrancing to stare at. But its obvious that China was trying a liiiiiiittle too hard to look cool and modern without considering the rest of their cityscape.
Since it was dark out, and the edge of Tiananmen Square was just around the corner, I decided to stroll on over and take a second look. This was among the best decisions I have ever randomly made. The Square at night is TOTALLY different. First, the Square is emptied of tourists at night. Aside from the joy of not seeing hoards of people with their screaming pooping offspring dressed in panda hats, you can really see the Square in its entirety. In the middle of the darkness is a giant ten-story obelisk to the People’s Heros that seems to stand as a reminder that there is ONLY ONE party in this country, and no one else is allowed within a mile of challenging it.
Every building surrounding the Square is also lit up, and they all become much more impressive with the contrast of the black night sky in the background much the same way the National Mall in DC does. Of course, you can’t miss Mao. His giant picture at the end of Tiananmen is a reminder of the country’s love affair with the great leader.
One of the great tragedies of modern history is the Cultural Revolution. The death and destruction of just about everything by no means spared Beijing. There is a fair amount to see and do in the city, but guidebooks are strangely missing the amount of historical buildings and sites that one would expect from such an important capital. Stories of the former glory of the city left me thinking ‘Thanks Mao… asshole.’
Before I forget to mention this, we went to the Great Wall! The Wall should be on everyone’s list of ‘things I must see before I die’. Words cannot describe the enormity and sense of Place at this Wonder of the Ancient World, and I will not attempt to do so. Rather, I’ll mention a few things I liked. The vendors perched all over the Wall were relentless, and tried everything to be my friend. I kept telling them I’d hit ‘em up on the way back from my walk, and unfortunately they remembered. When you get to the sign that says ‘No Access Beyond This Point’ blow past it like a Green Peace hippy at home asking for a ‘moment of your time.’ The best parts of the wall are the sections that haven’t been restored yet, and which give you better views. Lastly, take the little toboggan track down, unless you are really fat or can’t control your speed. Obviously I raced down with my friends at top speed. This worked out until the guy in front of me tipped and fell off. The resulting crash wasn’t too bad, minus the Mike Tyson style punch my kidneys took from the cart behind me.
In all good traveling sagas the best stories usually come from random experiences, being drunk and things that go horribly wrong. With that in mind, here are a few stories I will never forget. In the random experience category we have B1. Our hotel in Beijing was very nice, modern, and warm. But not all was as legit below ground. I knew something awesome was up when I heard someone say ‘OMG guys there are prostitutes in the basement!’ Immediately I listened in to get the DL on what was up, and of course decided to go down and investigate with a buddy. On B1 (as it was labeled in the elevator) we exited the elevator to a strange scene. A concierge, bouncer, small Chinese band of women with instruments, and a line of scantily clad women greeted us. Obviously we were not welcome there as the bouncer (or concierge? There really wasn’t a difference) quickly escorted us to the gym.
After poking around the gym for a minute we got down to business and started sneaking around the floor like Scooby Doo and the gang, only with the real threat of pimps and bouncers doing us serious harm. It was a labyrinth of dimly lit rooms with couches, tables, TVs, etc. Occasionally we saw some sketchy men and a girl or two, but we knew that staring was probably a bad idea. Near the end of our wandering a bunch of women in bikinis walked past us to what I can only assume to be a room where Chinese businessmen ‘chose’ them. Convinced that we had found an exclusive brothel/strip club we finally left to tell the tale of sketchiness.
Later that night several girls heard one of these ‘women of the night’ screaming at the top of her skanky lungs in a room next to theirs. The hotel moved them to a suite the next day. Sketchy win.
One night we all went out to a bar area, and ended up at a place called Shooters. We went to ‘bond’ and somehow ended up on the falling down side of tipsy. Surprising for a group of American students right? This was relatively unremarkable except for a few minor details. One, a local Chinese guy at the bar took pictures with us. He was old and creeped on the girls, but I liked him. Two, there was a weird smoking den over the dance floor, and every time I looked up Chinese people were staring at us. Three, even outside the bar across the street with some people it was obvious when Empire State of Mind came on cuz EVERY American on the street bolted back to the bar, screamed the song at the top of their lungs, and danced like their was no tomorrow.
My favorite experience in Beijing was going to the Moscow Restaurant. In the heart of the Russian district of the city I was able to fully indulge my obsession with everything Russian. I went with three of my friends to this place, and had an amazing meal of Boyar Style beef, caviar, and vodka. The restaurant exemplified everything about Russia that I had hoped it would. First, the façade was a huge neon sign of Spasskaya Tower. Second, the place was filled with sketchy Russian people who looked like they were about to pick up their shipments of AK-47s in the back. Third, they had caviar, which was Yummy Dummy in my Tummy. The food was excellent, as was the vodka (although everyone else at the table insisted that it was rubbing alcohol unfit for consumption). Lastly, a terrible singer who sang Russian, Chinese, and English songs into a VERY loud stereo system, serenaded our dinner as row after row of half naked women danced around the dance floor. It was a very authentically Russian experience indeed.
On the subject of things going horribly wrong I was pick pocketed. I was at a bar, and it was probably my own damn fault for not paying enough attention. But at any, rate I had a few hundred USD swiped.
I guess it happens to every traveler at some point. The most frustrating part of it all is the feeling of helplessness without any cash. I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by friends who helped me out, but living on borrowed cash is not a fun way to travel. Unfortunately I had no choice but to add it onto the rapidly growing list ‘unexpected expenses’ that have been draining my savings. The only positive thing I can be happy about is that I intentionally left all my nonessentials at home (unfortunately that didn’t include my awesome 10 trillion Zimbabwe dollar), and I am now even more paranoid about being robbed.
P.S. Every once in a while something happens that makes me SO miserable that my face seems to spell ‘fuck everything’ and I immediately get my man period. One such episode was a trip to the Temple of Heaven. Lets set the scene. Its 7:30 AM (aka Death O’Clock). Outside the temperature is about freezing. I have just been pick pocketed the night before. I am hung over, and sick. Got the mental image? OK, so some genius decided to get us up at the ass crack of dawn to go to the Temple of Heaven for a ‘Tai Chi Lesson.’ I went because the Temple is beautiful, and I wanted some pictures (and maybe to learn something about Tai Chi).
When we got there we walked past a bunch of old Chinese people playing Chinese games, and doing their morning Tai Chi. We were brought to an old man who said nothing, and simply played his ‘All You Can Eat Chinese Buffet’ style music through some cassette player from 1985 as he did his routine. After a few minutes of freezing, we were invited to copy his moves and do Tai Chi. I made it approximately three minutes before my entire body said screw this, and I stood off to the side. I learned not a goddamn thing, and I took pictures for about two minutes before I booked it back to the bus.
So what is to be learned from this? One, Google Tai Chi from the comfort of your own home before you do it. Two, choose a livable hour to try it out. Three, for the love of god don’t dance around in 30-degree winds unless you have magical Chinese skin that can find some sense of relaxation from it.
Monday, February 1, 2010
I Meant a Falling Down Drunk Party, Not the Communist Party
Beijing is a welcome breath of modernity to any traveler seeing most of China. Thanks to the Olympics, and the Party’s efforts to give its commie image a facelift the city has lots of English, and all the modern buses, lights, Mc D’s and urban essentials that are found in cities all over the developed world. Yet this is also the seat of power in the PRC, and wandering around you damn well know it.
Tiananmen Square was our first stop. With images of tanks, soldiers, and our BFFL Mao in my mind I was disappointed with the square. Our guide didn’t help the situation at all as he spent the bus ride there explaining to us the Soviet influence on Tiananmen, and how the architecture took its cues from Red Square (my favorite place ever). Tiananmen is enormous, and the sheer scale of the place is undoubtedly impressive. Yet this vast expanse of open space has the effect of making the surrounding buildings seem very small in comparison. This feeling is made worse by the hoards of tourists (which I suppose is to be expected but I’m gonna bitch about it anyways), the gray overcast sky, and the guards that weren’t nearly as intense and badass as I had hoped. For reasons I will explain later, my opinion on the Square was radically changed the following day.
From the Square, the next logical place to go is the Forbidden City. This epic complex DID impress me. You walk through a series of huge buildings and courtyards, and eventually reach the living quarters of the Emperor. It is easy to imagine the power that must have radiated from its former inhabitants. Yet, amidst the wonder of this world famous complex it is impossible to escape the reminders of what period you are actually living in. I saw some ‘squatting’ in the City. And I was never able to escape the constant bitching of people who didn’t understand why there were so many stairs, and just wanted to know how close we were to leaving.
The food in Beijing is, as I’ve taken to calling it, derishush. Peking Duck, while being difficult to assemble, is a wonderful tradition that I could eat every day. Even at sketchy restaurants where I wasn’t sure what I ordered I was always stuffed. But, I noticed that I was constantly dehydrated, and strangely craved a drink that wasn’t carbonated. Since the tap water in China is much like sewage the only water you can drink must be boiled or bought, and since bottled water is always sold next to pop my American addicted self drank way too much Coke.
Our lecture series in Beijing was fascinating. Among my favorites were a reporter from Reuters, a very snobby architect, and a guy from Brooklyn who spoke on Chinese culture (or rather how its going down the shitter). It is very interesting to hear about issues from the Chinese’ perspective. Think about Copenhagen for example. The Western media loves to yell about how China was uncooperative at the climate talks, and the way in which China refused to agree to the terms that the West had reasonably proposed. In reality China was pretty cooperative with a lot of what was proposed, BUT the Chinese absolutely refuse to allow inspectors into the country to monitor how much the country is living up to the agreement. I’m sure this has, to some extent, to do with China’s inability to meet some of the standards due to corruption, outdated equipment, etc. But, the Chinese also adamantly refuse to allow foreigners to meddle in their internal affairs (China generally does not get involved in other nation’s internal affairs as well). Stretching back to China’s humiliating experience with foreign powers following the Opium Wars the country has been treated like absolute shit by the outside world. With their newfound power the Party is saying ‘no more.’ The sense I got from being in Beijing is that the Chinese will do what they want, when they want, how they want and anyone who thinks that they will stand for a foreign power dictating their policies is dead wrong.
Not all of our lectures were great. A Chinese economics professor spoke to us, and it was one of the driest lectures in bad English that I have ever heard. We were, however, amused by his extreme flamboyance that had me on the verge of yelling ‘Hey girl hey. Tone it down diva.’
At the end of his lecture we were divided into groups, and given a local student to talk to. I felt like a waste of life after talking to our student. She first gave us the run down on how Chinese education works. Basically they go to school all day long, go home, study, sleep, and do it all over again. These people are INTENSE about their education, and the parents act as whip-masters to ensure their child does well in school. I know I’m over simplifying it, but for the sake of time that’s the general picture.
Our questions to this poor girl did little to help my feeling of lazy worthlessness. Our group’s main focus (and something that we couldn’t quite seem to get our minds around) was how Chinese students live without Facebook and the consumption of large amounts of alcohol on a semi-daily basis. She told us that they really just study all the time, and that she didn’t understand how/why we lived that way. In her mind a ‘party’ consisted of food, the attendance of an administrator or someone in charge, and a speech. I was tempted to clarify that I meant a ‘falling down drunk’ party, and not the Communist party but I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it.
After hearing about how students in China lead their lives like brainy saints, we all subconsciously decided to embrace our sinful ways by going out clubbing. Going clubbing in Beijing is fantastic (if you’re into that kinda thing), and while I am kinda over the novelty of it back home I was pumped for our night.
Like any night out, it began with cheap booze. And by cheap I mean 25-cent beer cheap. My inner alcoholic was in heaven, but was yet again outshined by my inner Jew. After power housing a few of those we cabbed it to a huge club filled with shiny people and our group dancing/being inappropriate. As the debauchery dragged on I finally got to that awesome drunken stage where I think I can fluently speak 3-4 languages, and I ramble on about random tangents that make approximately zero sense. At this point a few of us tried to leave, and ended up wandering around this epic dance palace for God only knows how long looking for my friend’s coat. Failing at that, we eventually made our way back to hotel. Since none of us spoke Chinese I’m not entirely sure how we managed the cab ride, but we must have gotten home cuz I woke up in my bed.
Long story short, I am amazed by fact that Chinese students aren’t party crazy drunks with all their cheap alcohol and epic clubs. On top of that, they are (like everyone else in this country) skinny as hell, yet still seem to shovel down as much food as any morbidly obese American I know. Maybe its healthier here. Or maybe they are just throwing up in the bathroom. I don’t know. But its fun as hell to watch.
P.S. In this world there are three kinds of people. People who like coffee, people prefer tea, and everyone else. In China everyone likes tea. EVERYONE. Every time I sat down at a lecture, restaurant, plane ride, etc. I was served with some sort of tea. As a coffee/coke kinda guy it took some getting used to. I mean how exactly am I supposed to go from caffeinated, stomach destroying, sugar filled goodness to water with leaves? I’m sure its much healthier for you, but like all things that are healthier than what I eat the taste is subpar. Snapple anyone? Despite my bitching I’m gonna keep drinking it and hopefully grow to like it, much the same way I’m trying to learning to like the sorry excuse this continent has for mustard. I’m thinking tea is a more realistic goal.
Tiananmen Square was our first stop. With images of tanks, soldiers, and our BFFL Mao in my mind I was disappointed with the square. Our guide didn’t help the situation at all as he spent the bus ride there explaining to us the Soviet influence on Tiananmen, and how the architecture took its cues from Red Square (my favorite place ever). Tiananmen is enormous, and the sheer scale of the place is undoubtedly impressive. Yet this vast expanse of open space has the effect of making the surrounding buildings seem very small in comparison. This feeling is made worse by the hoards of tourists (which I suppose is to be expected but I’m gonna bitch about it anyways), the gray overcast sky, and the guards that weren’t nearly as intense and badass as I had hoped. For reasons I will explain later, my opinion on the Square was radically changed the following day.
From the Square, the next logical place to go is the Forbidden City. This epic complex DID impress me. You walk through a series of huge buildings and courtyards, and eventually reach the living quarters of the Emperor. It is easy to imagine the power that must have radiated from its former inhabitants. Yet, amidst the wonder of this world famous complex it is impossible to escape the reminders of what period you are actually living in. I saw some ‘squatting’ in the City. And I was never able to escape the constant bitching of people who didn’t understand why there were so many stairs, and just wanted to know how close we were to leaving.
The food in Beijing is, as I’ve taken to calling it, derishush. Peking Duck, while being difficult to assemble, is a wonderful tradition that I could eat every day. Even at sketchy restaurants where I wasn’t sure what I ordered I was always stuffed. But, I noticed that I was constantly dehydrated, and strangely craved a drink that wasn’t carbonated. Since the tap water in China is much like sewage the only water you can drink must be boiled or bought, and since bottled water is always sold next to pop my American addicted self drank way too much Coke.
Our lecture series in Beijing was fascinating. Among my favorites were a reporter from Reuters, a very snobby architect, and a guy from Brooklyn who spoke on Chinese culture (or rather how its going down the shitter). It is very interesting to hear about issues from the Chinese’ perspective. Think about Copenhagen for example. The Western media loves to yell about how China was uncooperative at the climate talks, and the way in which China refused to agree to the terms that the West had reasonably proposed. In reality China was pretty cooperative with a lot of what was proposed, BUT the Chinese absolutely refuse to allow inspectors into the country to monitor how much the country is living up to the agreement. I’m sure this has, to some extent, to do with China’s inability to meet some of the standards due to corruption, outdated equipment, etc. But, the Chinese also adamantly refuse to allow foreigners to meddle in their internal affairs (China generally does not get involved in other nation’s internal affairs as well). Stretching back to China’s humiliating experience with foreign powers following the Opium Wars the country has been treated like absolute shit by the outside world. With their newfound power the Party is saying ‘no more.’ The sense I got from being in Beijing is that the Chinese will do what they want, when they want, how they want and anyone who thinks that they will stand for a foreign power dictating their policies is dead wrong.
Not all of our lectures were great. A Chinese economics professor spoke to us, and it was one of the driest lectures in bad English that I have ever heard. We were, however, amused by his extreme flamboyance that had me on the verge of yelling ‘Hey girl hey. Tone it down diva.’
At the end of his lecture we were divided into groups, and given a local student to talk to. I felt like a waste of life after talking to our student. She first gave us the run down on how Chinese education works. Basically they go to school all day long, go home, study, sleep, and do it all over again. These people are INTENSE about their education, and the parents act as whip-masters to ensure their child does well in school. I know I’m over simplifying it, but for the sake of time that’s the general picture.
Our questions to this poor girl did little to help my feeling of lazy worthlessness. Our group’s main focus (and something that we couldn’t quite seem to get our minds around) was how Chinese students live without Facebook and the consumption of large amounts of alcohol on a semi-daily basis. She told us that they really just study all the time, and that she didn’t understand how/why we lived that way. In her mind a ‘party’ consisted of food, the attendance of an administrator or someone in charge, and a speech. I was tempted to clarify that I meant a ‘falling down drunk’ party, and not the Communist party but I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it.
After hearing about how students in China lead their lives like brainy saints, we all subconsciously decided to embrace our sinful ways by going out clubbing. Going clubbing in Beijing is fantastic (if you’re into that kinda thing), and while I am kinda over the novelty of it back home I was pumped for our night.
Like any night out, it began with cheap booze. And by cheap I mean 25-cent beer cheap. My inner alcoholic was in heaven, but was yet again outshined by my inner Jew. After power housing a few of those we cabbed it to a huge club filled with shiny people and our group dancing/being inappropriate. As the debauchery dragged on I finally got to that awesome drunken stage where I think I can fluently speak 3-4 languages, and I ramble on about random tangents that make approximately zero sense. At this point a few of us tried to leave, and ended up wandering around this epic dance palace for God only knows how long looking for my friend’s coat. Failing at that, we eventually made our way back to hotel. Since none of us spoke Chinese I’m not entirely sure how we managed the cab ride, but we must have gotten home cuz I woke up in my bed.
Long story short, I am amazed by fact that Chinese students aren’t party crazy drunks with all their cheap alcohol and epic clubs. On top of that, they are (like everyone else in this country) skinny as hell, yet still seem to shovel down as much food as any morbidly obese American I know. Maybe its healthier here. Or maybe they are just throwing up in the bathroom. I don’t know. But its fun as hell to watch.
P.S. In this world there are three kinds of people. People who like coffee, people prefer tea, and everyone else. In China everyone likes tea. EVERYONE. Every time I sat down at a lecture, restaurant, plane ride, etc. I was served with some sort of tea. As a coffee/coke kinda guy it took some getting used to. I mean how exactly am I supposed to go from caffeinated, stomach destroying, sugar filled goodness to water with leaves? I’m sure its much healthier for you, but like all things that are healthier than what I eat the taste is subpar. Snapple anyone? Despite my bitching I’m gonna keep drinking it and hopefully grow to like it, much the same way I’m trying to learning to like the sorry excuse this continent has for mustard. I’m thinking tea is a more realistic goal.
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