I must have been a bit late on this phenomenon; LCD Soundsystem is a name that I've heard popping up for years now, but never really hunted down. I knew it was some sort of dance music, which scared me away at first. This was until my friend Chris gave me a burned CD of their newest album, This is Happening. What I heard was dance music, but more of a rehashing of late 70's David Bowie and Talking Heads. This was my type of dance music.
I been a fan since then and all of their three albums are great, but none matches their first. The first track, "Daft Punk is Playing at my House" lays the whole idea of the group on the table in a quick, fun, funky, danceable rock song. It simultaneous pokes fun at the nerdiness of the hip, yet embraces it at the same time. The rest of the album switches between electronic workouts and jumpy rock songs. I would not call anything here truly original. "On Repeat" sounds like a modern retake of post-punk, just more electronic. "Never as Tired as When I'm Waking up" sounds like a cover from The Beatles White Album, even in its quality, but despite the rehashing of ideas, producer James Murphy always keeps a strong humor, the songs paying homage to his influences, not copying them.
The second disc is made up early singles. The first, "Losing My Edge" is a hilarious nerd battle between the old school record collectors and children of the internet age. The rest are not nearly as great, but the two extended versions of "Yeah" are both fun dance songs.
Overall, this is one of the most fun albums of the last ten years. It is simply likeable as both a listening experience and a background party album. This is great dance music for people who don't like dance music.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
One night in London
I wanted to make sure I'd make all of my connections into Norway, so I booked my tickets to leave an overnight in London, hopefully giving me a chance to see a few things. My trip was not without its complications. I fell asleep before my plane even took off from China and I awoke hours later in the middle of the meal service. Everyone seemed to be finishing up, so I went right back to sleep, waking just before landing in Moscow. I sleepily went through customs and hunted down a cup of coffee and walked around admiring the beauty of Russian women. My gate was on the opposite end of the airport, but I didn't know that until shortly before my flight boarded. Right as I was entering the gate area, I had one of my strange anxiety moments where something didn't seem right. I mostly fight these checking obsessions, but this time, I really thought my backpack felt too light. So I stripped it off and realized that my laptop was not there. I could have only left at the x-ray machine. Therefore, I had to run all the way back across the airport (couldn't you just get a shuttle service Moscow airport) and found my customs entry point. Thankfully, the woman had set it aside for me. I was so happy, I forgot to say “thank you” for one-second, which the customs lady pointed out. “Thank you!” I yelled and ran all the way back, just making the boarding.
The second flight was nearly as long as the first, but I stayed awake for the duration; I had to conform to Europe time. I landed at noon and easily found the subway system, purchasing an “Oyster Card” a frequent rider program which paid for itself on my ride to the hostel. It was located in the Northeast part of the city. I noticed right away that every building looked the same, just an endless row of town houses as far as I could see. It was oddly charming though.
My hostel didn't take cards, so I hunted down a money exchange for my Norwegian kroner. What I got was just enough to pay for my room that night, hardly enough for food or anything else. And no place cheap enough for my budget took cards. So I stayed on a constant hunt for card only establishments. I was knackered when I arrived, but I ignored this, dropped my bag and caught a subway to the main part of town. I didn't even take a shower; there was no time. I had to see everything that day.
I don't know why I always adopt these mindsets, this never works out for me, but somehow in London it worked. Everything was so expensive, I could only see the sights from the outside. Very few thing are worth thirty dollar admission. My first stop was Buckingham Palace, where I jumped a fence, slipped and fell over. I could hear Elisabeth laughing. There was a lovely park on the way to Westminster Abbey. The cathedral itself was quite incredible; I would have loved to see the inside. The parliament house was also pompous and beautiful, but Big Ben was a letdown; it was so much smaller than I expected. The London Eye just across the river was not a draw since I couldn't afford to ride it, but the view from that side of the river was great. The bridge was packed shoulder to shoulder with sausage and caramel corn vendors; the parliament member must love these snacks. Sadly, they only accepted cash.
I continued walking along the river, admiring all the sight.s. London is a very characterful city. I loved how such old buildings sat with all the new. Like a western version of Kolkata. I walked all the way to the tower bridge, passing Christopher Wren's great St. Paul's cathedral and other popular sights. I got some decent photos and saw most of the things on the postcards that afternoon, so that was nice. It was obvious that I was not just burned out on Asia, but tourism in general.
I headed home around the same time as the city was leaving work. The subway was packed with quiet, tired people, strung out from work. The women wore a mask of makeup and didn't know where to stop with the eyeliner. Most of the people were fat and lifeless; they seemed so dead compared to the Chinese, who can be quite cold and lifeless themselves sometimes.
I had a traditional London dinner of Polish food, the only restaurant in the area that took cards. It was lovely but pricey. This is only a lead-up to the outrageously expensive Norway. There were no more dollar dinners in my future.
The second flight was nearly as long as the first, but I stayed awake for the duration; I had to conform to Europe time. I landed at noon and easily found the subway system, purchasing an “Oyster Card” a frequent rider program which paid for itself on my ride to the hostel. It was located in the Northeast part of the city. I noticed right away that every building looked the same, just an endless row of town houses as far as I could see. It was oddly charming though.
My hostel didn't take cards, so I hunted down a money exchange for my Norwegian kroner. What I got was just enough to pay for my room that night, hardly enough for food or anything else. And no place cheap enough for my budget took cards. So I stayed on a constant hunt for card only establishments. I was knackered when I arrived, but I ignored this, dropped my bag and caught a subway to the main part of town. I didn't even take a shower; there was no time. I had to see everything that day.
I don't know why I always adopt these mindsets, this never works out for me, but somehow in London it worked. Everything was so expensive, I could only see the sights from the outside. Very few thing are worth thirty dollar admission. My first stop was Buckingham Palace, where I jumped a fence, slipped and fell over. I could hear Elisabeth laughing. There was a lovely park on the way to Westminster Abbey. The cathedral itself was quite incredible; I would have loved to see the inside. The parliament house was also pompous and beautiful, but Big Ben was a letdown; it was so much smaller than I expected. The London Eye just across the river was not a draw since I couldn't afford to ride it, but the view from that side of the river was great. The bridge was packed shoulder to shoulder with sausage and caramel corn vendors; the parliament member must love these snacks. Sadly, they only accepted cash.
I continued walking along the river, admiring all the sight.s. London is a very characterful city. I loved how such old buildings sat with all the new. Like a western version of Kolkata. I walked all the way to the tower bridge, passing Christopher Wren's great St. Paul's cathedral and other popular sights. I got some decent photos and saw most of the things on the postcards that afternoon, so that was nice. It was obvious that I was not just burned out on Asia, but tourism in general.
I headed home around the same time as the city was leaving work. The subway was packed with quiet, tired people, strung out from work. The women wore a mask of makeup and didn't know where to stop with the eyeliner. Most of the people were fat and lifeless; they seemed so dead compared to the Chinese, who can be quite cold and lifeless themselves sometimes.
I had a traditional London dinner of Polish food, the only restaurant in the area that took cards. It was lovely but pricey. This is only a lead-up to the outrageously expensive Norway. There were no more dollar dinners in my future.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Cities in China
I doubt that many people who have never been to China can comprehend the sheer population of the country (outside those in maybe India.) In China has a population of 1.3 billion, four times that of the United States, in roughly the same land area. Just keeping people busy or housed in itself is a major job for the country. Despite their attempts to curb growth with the one-child policy, the population still grows too fast. Plus, given the citizens' preference of men, many females have been aborted since this policy came into effect. The government will lift the one-child policy soon, but this will not undo the damage emotionally and mentally by such practices. The population may actually go down, since millions of men all of China cannot find wives, due to the over population of men.
A city of a million plus doesn't even blip on the radar of people. Most provincial capitols are at least 5 million or so, not to mention the large number of multimillion population cities all over the country. I was very surprised by the number of huge cities I'd never even heard of before. Take Shenzhen for example, the second largest city in China. I and many travelers had never heard of it before, even though it has a population of 15 million, nearly a million more than Los Angeles. Here's a little exercise, I'll list China's ten largest cities, with its population and a city in the world that is about the same size. I'd be surprised if an American could recognize more than four of these.
1. Shanghai 18.6 million, about the same size as Mexico City
2. Shenzhen 15.3 million, just a bit bigger than LA.
3. Beijing 14.3 million, just smaller than L.A.
4. Dongguan 12.2 million, just bigger than Rio De Janiero
5. Guangzhou 11.9 million, the same size as Rio
6. Hong Kong 7 million, nearly the size of Bangkok
7. Tianjin 7 million
8. Chongqing 7 million
9. Wuhan 5.5 million about the size of Dallas/Fort Worth
10. Shenyang 5.3 million, about the size of Philadelphia
Of course this list is a bit controversial, given the many ways of listing population. Chongqing has been considered the largest city the world, with over 30 million (if you count the whole province as Chongqing). Once you get to the last 5, many of these are interchangeable. All in all, China has about 20 cities with a population larger than five million! So, keep this in perspective when considering China. 1.3 billion is A LOT of people.
A city of a million plus doesn't even blip on the radar of people. Most provincial capitols are at least 5 million or so, not to mention the large number of multimillion population cities all over the country. I was very surprised by the number of huge cities I'd never even heard of before. Take Shenzhen for example, the second largest city in China. I and many travelers had never heard of it before, even though it has a population of 15 million, nearly a million more than Los Angeles. Here's a little exercise, I'll list China's ten largest cities, with its population and a city in the world that is about the same size. I'd be surprised if an American could recognize more than four of these.
1. Shanghai 18.6 million, about the same size as Mexico City
2. Shenzhen 15.3 million, just a bit bigger than LA.
3. Beijing 14.3 million, just smaller than L.A.
4. Dongguan 12.2 million, just bigger than Rio De Janiero
5. Guangzhou 11.9 million, the same size as Rio
6. Hong Kong 7 million, nearly the size of Bangkok
7. Tianjin 7 million
8. Chongqing 7 million
9. Wuhan 5.5 million about the size of Dallas/Fort Worth
10. Shenyang 5.3 million, about the size of Philadelphia
Of course this list is a bit controversial, given the many ways of listing population. Chongqing has been considered the largest city the world, with over 30 million (if you count the whole province as Chongqing). Once you get to the last 5, many of these are interchangeable. All in all, China has about 20 cities with a population larger than five million! So, keep this in perspective when considering China. 1.3 billion is A LOT of people.
Shanghai
My last day in Asia was spent in the megacity of Shanghai, on the central coast of China. Essentially serving as the financial capital of the country, it has been growing bigger, and taller steadily for hundreds of years. Standing at the point where the Yangzhe meets the Pacific, it is an obvious strategic point, leading to it division by foreign powers in the mid-1800's and eventually, most of Europe and the US controlled a portion of the city. This foreign control led to it being the most modern, westernized city in China (outside of Hong Kong of course).
The first thing I noticed was the smog, reminding me the wonderful skies of Beijing. I had sadly gotten used to the sight of skies above 10 million+ cities. My first stop was a hostel where I stored my bag for the day. I'd planned to spend a night in Shanghai, but due to my inability to find a bus out of Xiamen the day earlier, I had only a quick 22 hours. The hostel was right near the bund, the old financial district of the city, along the river, facing the ultra-modern skyscrapers of Pudong. I headed here after a quick and delicious breakfast dish, not unlike the egg rolls of Kolkatta. Walking the bund is the main tourist draw of the city. It is actually quite neat to be sandwiched between the 19th century Victorian style pomp and some of the highest skyscrapers in the world, representing our current trend of projecting wealth. Since I had arrived before the sun, I chose to witness the area at sunrise, sadly, the smog and fog were too thick to see much. Thankfully though, I had one last chance to witness one of my favorite quirks of Asian culture. Throughout most of China and SE Asia, it is common for groups to congregate in open public squares for tai chi or aerobics to projected music during both sunrise and sunset. I couldn't help but feel a strong fondness for this sight, one I'd no longer see when I left. Other ushered the sun with kite flying. The white expats just jogged.
I crossed the river by ferry to see the three iconic skyscrapers of Shanghai up close. The most famous is the 460m Pearl Tower, a tripod with little balls that is the most common representation of the city. The other two, the 420m Jinmao bulding and the Shanghai World Financial center, a giant bottle opener, 492m tall (and the third tallest building in the world) were so tall, it was ridiculous, the only purpose for such height is showing off. The craziest part of this is the construction of another tower, The Shanghai Tower, which will be 630 meters, making it the second tallest building in the world. The city features more building over 400m than any other in the world. I thought Hong Kong was tall.
The bund side was less focused on size than intricacy, showcasing some of the best art deco buildings in the world. This seemed more like something I'd expect in the New York or Chicago, but little touches made it seem more Chinese than western. I can't say as I found Shanghai to be pretty (it just lacked the charm of Hong Kong), it was definitely impressive.
As the temperature was hitting 100, I decided to hunt down an internet cafe and waste a few hours; there was not that much I wanted to see in China's largest city. I had little luck as every net cafe in the book that was in the area had been shut down. I did find an assortment of dumplings and other munchables, that I found to be too sweet for my taste.
I figured that I'd take shelter in the air-conditioned Shanghai Museum, one of the most regarded collections of Chinese art in the country, and free. I was impressed with much of it. I learned oodles about porcelain and other local crafts. It was quite interesting, though, I only walked through the collections of calligraphy and rubber stamps.
Next, I stopped by Shanghai Number 1 food store on Nanjing Road for some random food court fun. I settled on a soup, but quickly realized I was not eating the right thing. Everyone was chowing on these fried dumplings, sprinkled with sesame seeds that looked fantastic. So I figured, since it is my last day, I can pig out on two lunches in one sitting. It was well worth the uncomfortable level of full. They were stuffed with semisweet port filling and fried in a thin layer of oil, they covered so the top and insides get steamed by the moisture and the bottoms get crispy. It was a medley of textures and flavors that tasted great in chili and vinegar. I knew I'd have to come back.
According to the book, there was an internet cafe in the French Concession, an area of the city I wished to see. I'm glad I made the trip. The neighborhood was green, relaxing, and beautiful with many cafes and beauty salons. I stopped at one of the latter for a great, professional level haircut for back alley barber prices. Eventually, I reached the location of the internet cafe, but the building had been leveled. Thankfully, there was a shopping center with a netcafe just down the road. I hid out there until sunset, then headed back to Nanjing Road for my farewell meal or more fried dumplings. Shanghai is one of the culinary centers of all of Asia, but I decided to bid goodbye to China with the simplest of food court dishes. It was a fine sendoff.
My last stop was to grab a few quick photos of Pudong at night. The bund was packed with masses of tourists and it took much too long to get my shots. I picked up my bag and jumped on the subway to the airport. I did not realize that the trains to the airport ended at 9pm, so I had to catch a taxi for 20 miles to get there. I then hunkered down for the long wait until my 2AM flight left. While sitting outside, being mobbed by mosquitoes, a young Chinese man and his Persian friend showed up with a stack of beers, offering me a couple. So we sat outside and drank beers while chatting for a few hours before I headed off to my flight. I'm glad my last moments were enjoying the special kindness of the Chinese.
The first thing I noticed was the smog, reminding me the wonderful skies of Beijing. I had sadly gotten used to the sight of skies above 10 million+ cities. My first stop was a hostel where I stored my bag for the day. I'd planned to spend a night in Shanghai, but due to my inability to find a bus out of Xiamen the day earlier, I had only a quick 22 hours. The hostel was right near the bund, the old financial district of the city, along the river, facing the ultra-modern skyscrapers of Pudong. I headed here after a quick and delicious breakfast dish, not unlike the egg rolls of Kolkatta. Walking the bund is the main tourist draw of the city. It is actually quite neat to be sandwiched between the 19th century Victorian style pomp and some of the highest skyscrapers in the world, representing our current trend of projecting wealth. Since I had arrived before the sun, I chose to witness the area at sunrise, sadly, the smog and fog were too thick to see much. Thankfully though, I had one last chance to witness one of my favorite quirks of Asian culture. Throughout most of China and SE Asia, it is common for groups to congregate in open public squares for tai chi or aerobics to projected music during both sunrise and sunset. I couldn't help but feel a strong fondness for this sight, one I'd no longer see when I left. Other ushered the sun with kite flying. The white expats just jogged.
I crossed the river by ferry to see the three iconic skyscrapers of Shanghai up close. The most famous is the 460m Pearl Tower, a tripod with little balls that is the most common representation of the city. The other two, the 420m Jinmao bulding and the Shanghai World Financial center, a giant bottle opener, 492m tall (and the third tallest building in the world) were so tall, it was ridiculous, the only purpose for such height is showing off. The craziest part of this is the construction of another tower, The Shanghai Tower, which will be 630 meters, making it the second tallest building in the world. The city features more building over 400m than any other in the world. I thought Hong Kong was tall.
The bund side was less focused on size than intricacy, showcasing some of the best art deco buildings in the world. This seemed more like something I'd expect in the New York or Chicago, but little touches made it seem more Chinese than western. I can't say as I found Shanghai to be pretty (it just lacked the charm of Hong Kong), it was definitely impressive.
As the temperature was hitting 100, I decided to hunt down an internet cafe and waste a few hours; there was not that much I wanted to see in China's largest city. I had little luck as every net cafe in the book that was in the area had been shut down. I did find an assortment of dumplings and other munchables, that I found to be too sweet for my taste.
I figured that I'd take shelter in the air-conditioned Shanghai Museum, one of the most regarded collections of Chinese art in the country, and free. I was impressed with much of it. I learned oodles about porcelain and other local crafts. It was quite interesting, though, I only walked through the collections of calligraphy and rubber stamps.
Next, I stopped by Shanghai Number 1 food store on Nanjing Road for some random food court fun. I settled on a soup, but quickly realized I was not eating the right thing. Everyone was chowing on these fried dumplings, sprinkled with sesame seeds that looked fantastic. So I figured, since it is my last day, I can pig out on two lunches in one sitting. It was well worth the uncomfortable level of full. They were stuffed with semisweet port filling and fried in a thin layer of oil, they covered so the top and insides get steamed by the moisture and the bottoms get crispy. It was a medley of textures and flavors that tasted great in chili and vinegar. I knew I'd have to come back.
According to the book, there was an internet cafe in the French Concession, an area of the city I wished to see. I'm glad I made the trip. The neighborhood was green, relaxing, and beautiful with many cafes and beauty salons. I stopped at one of the latter for a great, professional level haircut for back alley barber prices. Eventually, I reached the location of the internet cafe, but the building had been leveled. Thankfully, there was a shopping center with a netcafe just down the road. I hid out there until sunset, then headed back to Nanjing Road for my farewell meal or more fried dumplings. Shanghai is one of the culinary centers of all of Asia, but I decided to bid goodbye to China with the simplest of food court dishes. It was a fine sendoff.
My last stop was to grab a few quick photos of Pudong at night. The bund was packed with masses of tourists and it took much too long to get my shots. I picked up my bag and jumped on the subway to the airport. I did not realize that the trains to the airport ended at 9pm, so I had to catch a taxi for 20 miles to get there. I then hunkered down for the long wait until my 2AM flight left. While sitting outside, being mobbed by mosquitoes, a young Chinese man and his Persian friend showed up with a stack of beers, offering me a couple. So we sat outside and drank beers while chatting for a few hours before I headed off to my flight. I'm glad my last moments were enjoying the special kindness of the Chinese.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Taiwan
I arrived, as was becoming the norm in China, early, and in the middle of the night in a random place in a strange city. I had no clue where I was since it wasn't even a bus station. It was merely an urban street, lined with taxi drivers ready to take me anywhere. I was already starting to question if visiting Ray was worth it. It was not a part of my grand plan, but before he left for home, Ray used the magic of the sad Asian face to coax a promise from me. In the end I could only spare five days in Taiwan, since my plane was leaving from Shanghai in seven.
Getting to Taiwan is a bit of a pain. For some reason, well, for a very obvious reason, flights from China to Taiwan are stupidly expensive, despite its close proximity and legal status as a part of China. The Peoples' Republic of China is a bit bitter about the civil war and their fights for independence, their open market which makes them quite rich, and other grievances, so they make transport between the mainland and the island expensive to keep people from going to Taiwan. A flight from Fuzhou, just 100 miles away is $300, one way. There is however a very cheap loophole; simply take a boat from Xiamen to Jinmen Island, owned by Taiwan. From here, one can catch a much cheaper domestic flight to Taipei.
So I found myself in Xiamen, which was much bigger than I had original though. It used to be a major port city known in the west as Amoy. Now, it is still an important port, but not quite up to its original prominence. Tourism has taken over as a major industry, as well as general industry. It was not a place I wanted to linger, but I didn't really know how to leave.
I spent the night ride learning the how to ask in Chinese, “Boat, Jinmen.” None of the taxi drivers could help. Some of course offered to take me there for an inflated, off-meter price. In the end, I just asked to be taken to the train station, a typical 24 hour, lighted public place where I could reorient myself. The train station was closed, but KFC was not. So I had a coffee and found an internet cafe a block away; they are always open all night. For many, hotels and apartments are not quite as comfortable as sleep in an office chair, playing the Chinese version of World of Warcraft.
Only a couple miles away was a passenger boat port, so I strapped on once the sun came up and began my walk. I was hoping to hail a taxi, but some reason, despite the hundreds of taxis on the road, not one was vacant. It was a a long hot walk. I entered the ferry terminal and looked around until I saw the symbols for Jinmen. I went to the office, but even though the sign said both boat and Jinmen, the boat was not going to Jinmen. Nobody spoke English; the man just pointed out the door, along the waterfront. So I walked for a kilometer before I realized there was no other passenger ferry terminal. I asked a police office where I could find the Passenger Ferry Terminal and he gave me directions back to the original building. I asked the desk again for a boat ticket to Jinmen (I was learning a lot of words that morning.). They could not communicate why they could not meet my needs. So they wrote something mysterious on a slip of paper, pointed out the door and said something about a car...I assumed a taxi. Apparently I was in the wrong place. I sat for a moment, trying to decode the symbols at that desk and found one that meant circle...so the boat just went around the island, but not to it. I wanted to just give up, decide that the money and effort was not worth five days in Taiwan, a place I knew nothing about save its history and the giant skyscraper in Taipei. But I pushed on.
I got in a taxi, handed him the slip of paper and hoped he would take me to a helpful place. If not, I was just going someplace else instead. After a ten minute drive, I was dropped off at a giant building on the waterfront with a large English sign “International Ferry Terminal”. There it was.
I bought a ferry ticket and plane ticket in one simple transaction and both were discounted since it was a package. The ladies at the airline were smart, they used google translate and a pictures to ask all the relevant questions instead of getting embarrassed and not trying. They must have been Taiwanese. A bilingual, Taiwanese businessman adopted me on the boat and got me all the way to Taipei with no problems.
Taiwan reminded me of Hong Kong in its near resemblance to China, but with a different culture. Again, people lived with order, followed rules, and kept their bodily functions to themselves. They also seemed happier and more wealthy. Mostly they did not seem as phobic in the presence of Westerners.
I was met by two of Ray's friends at the airport, which conveniently in the center of the city. Ray was unable to meet me that day, he was off in the South. My timing for my visit was very lucky; Ray and his friends were on a week-long circuit of the island by 100cc scooter and I was invited to join. They were half done by the time I'd arrived, but I would be joining them for what is the most beautiful chunk of the country, the jungled East coast. After a quick lunch, we went to the train station, where I caught a train to Yuli, about 2/3 down the East side of the country.
The train ride was lovely, skirting a small band of land between the central mountains and the Pacific coast. Ray met me and instantly tried to scare me with food; forgetting that I've already spent a year in the country. He succeeded though, serving me a black egg, the only item to have made me horribly sick on the whole trip. I passed on the egg, but ate the tofu served with it. I could tell instantly from seeing Ray's infectious smile that this visit would be well worth the trouble.
We departed the next morning early, one of our group members had an exam in Taipei so I got to man a scooter myself. I'd done plenty of this, but no long-distance travel. It was awesome driving through the open country at 40mph, zipping up and down mountain roads, flying by the sea. This is the way to travel; fast enough to be thrilling and fun, but not so fast as to be scary. We stopped by the beach for a swim in the rough, typhoon fed waves. Ray lost the key to one of the motorbikes in the ocean. Because of some AAA equivalent, this turned out to not be a disaster; it was towed to Hualien that night. Sadly though, this marked the end of my driving for the trip, reserving me to the back for the rest of the way.
We spent the night in Hualien, the largest city of the East coast. The whole group all knew each other from boarding school at this town, so they were able to show me some great views and sights. We visited their school, which was founded by Cheng Yen, founder of the Tzu Chi Foundation, one of the most prolific and successful charity foundations in the world. They were very fortunate to attend this prestigious Buddhist High School.
Hualien is one of the top tourist destinations in Taiwan, home of Ocean world, near beaches, but mostly for its proximity to Taiwan's main natural wonder, the Toroko Gorge. We abandoned the coast to go through the gorge to Taichung, a city in the North Center, where Bella was from. The gorge was incredible, but freezing. Ray had not informed me that we would be heading into the mountains, especially not 12,000ft high mountains. It was fine though, he didn't bother informing himself, so we both died in our t-shirt and shorts. I've seen similar landscape, but there was a special quality to the jungle mountains of Taiwan. It may have been the great company.
The rest of the group left in Taichung, but Ray and I continued on for four more hours to his family home. It was the longest ride ever. Something happens to a man's butt and knees when riding on the back of a scooter for ten hours, some of that time spent in a torrential down pour, some of that time spent going up and down the mountains with a speed demon. Ray and I took frequent breaks during the last two hours, ever time disembarking the bike like sufferers of Vitamin D deficiency.
Ray's family was lovely. We were greeted by his cute mother and father who surprised Ray with his English vocabulary. Our dinner of various home cooked Taiwanese dishes was great. The highlight was a sour, ginger flavored organ meat. They were all impressed by my rabid love for this unlikely dish. I fear not offal. Our dessert was coffee at a local cafe, overlooking the city.
Being near a fault, Taipei has some fantastic hot springs. Ray's father took us to one in North of the city. It had been turned into a spa, but was lovely. I spent 2 hours rotating around from the hot pools, the steam room, and sauna, stopping to cool off in the cooler pools. Backpacking and hot springs go together so well, since I spend so much time carrying a 50lb bag, my back loves this treatment.
On my last day, Ray went with me to Taipei, where I had the local style of beef noodles, which was great. Before catching my flight, we rode out to Taipei 101, which is stupidly tall at 509 meters. It was the tallest building in the world from 2004 until 2010, when the 828m tall Burj Khalifa opened (this is like adding an Eiffel Tower to the top of of Taipei 101). The rest of the city looked tiny compared to the monster. When flying out of the country, I could see the symbol of Taiwan sticking out for miles, standing as tall as mountains, until it disappeared with the horizon. This trip was very much worth it, mostly for the company.
Getting to Taiwan is a bit of a pain. For some reason, well, for a very obvious reason, flights from China to Taiwan are stupidly expensive, despite its close proximity and legal status as a part of China. The Peoples' Republic of China is a bit bitter about the civil war and their fights for independence, their open market which makes them quite rich, and other grievances, so they make transport between the mainland and the island expensive to keep people from going to Taiwan. A flight from Fuzhou, just 100 miles away is $300, one way. There is however a very cheap loophole; simply take a boat from Xiamen to Jinmen Island, owned by Taiwan. From here, one can catch a much cheaper domestic flight to Taipei.
So I found myself in Xiamen, which was much bigger than I had original though. It used to be a major port city known in the west as Amoy. Now, it is still an important port, but not quite up to its original prominence. Tourism has taken over as a major industry, as well as general industry. It was not a place I wanted to linger, but I didn't really know how to leave.
I spent the night ride learning the how to ask in Chinese, “Boat, Jinmen.” None of the taxi drivers could help. Some of course offered to take me there for an inflated, off-meter price. In the end, I just asked to be taken to the train station, a typical 24 hour, lighted public place where I could reorient myself. The train station was closed, but KFC was not. So I had a coffee and found an internet cafe a block away; they are always open all night. For many, hotels and apartments are not quite as comfortable as sleep in an office chair, playing the Chinese version of World of Warcraft.
Only a couple miles away was a passenger boat port, so I strapped on once the sun came up and began my walk. I was hoping to hail a taxi, but some reason, despite the hundreds of taxis on the road, not one was vacant. It was a a long hot walk. I entered the ferry terminal and looked around until I saw the symbols for Jinmen. I went to the office, but even though the sign said both boat and Jinmen, the boat was not going to Jinmen. Nobody spoke English; the man just pointed out the door, along the waterfront. So I walked for a kilometer before I realized there was no other passenger ferry terminal. I asked a police office where I could find the Passenger Ferry Terminal and he gave me directions back to the original building. I asked the desk again for a boat ticket to Jinmen (I was learning a lot of words that morning.). They could not communicate why they could not meet my needs. So they wrote something mysterious on a slip of paper, pointed out the door and said something about a car...I assumed a taxi. Apparently I was in the wrong place. I sat for a moment, trying to decode the symbols at that desk and found one that meant circle...so the boat just went around the island, but not to it. I wanted to just give up, decide that the money and effort was not worth five days in Taiwan, a place I knew nothing about save its history and the giant skyscraper in Taipei. But I pushed on.
I got in a taxi, handed him the slip of paper and hoped he would take me to a helpful place. If not, I was just going someplace else instead. After a ten minute drive, I was dropped off at a giant building on the waterfront with a large English sign “International Ferry Terminal”. There it was.
I bought a ferry ticket and plane ticket in one simple transaction and both were discounted since it was a package. The ladies at the airline were smart, they used google translate and a pictures to ask all the relevant questions instead of getting embarrassed and not trying. They must have been Taiwanese. A bilingual, Taiwanese businessman adopted me on the boat and got me all the way to Taipei with no problems.
Taiwan reminded me of Hong Kong in its near resemblance to China, but with a different culture. Again, people lived with order, followed rules, and kept their bodily functions to themselves. They also seemed happier and more wealthy. Mostly they did not seem as phobic in the presence of Westerners.
I was met by two of Ray's friends at the airport, which conveniently in the center of the city. Ray was unable to meet me that day, he was off in the South. My timing for my visit was very lucky; Ray and his friends were on a week-long circuit of the island by 100cc scooter and I was invited to join. They were half done by the time I'd arrived, but I would be joining them for what is the most beautiful chunk of the country, the jungled East coast. After a quick lunch, we went to the train station, where I caught a train to Yuli, about 2/3 down the East side of the country.
The train ride was lovely, skirting a small band of land between the central mountains and the Pacific coast. Ray met me and instantly tried to scare me with food; forgetting that I've already spent a year in the country. He succeeded though, serving me a black egg, the only item to have made me horribly sick on the whole trip. I passed on the egg, but ate the tofu served with it. I could tell instantly from seeing Ray's infectious smile that this visit would be well worth the trouble.
We departed the next morning early, one of our group members had an exam in Taipei so I got to man a scooter myself. I'd done plenty of this, but no long-distance travel. It was awesome driving through the open country at 40mph, zipping up and down mountain roads, flying by the sea. This is the way to travel; fast enough to be thrilling and fun, but not so fast as to be scary. We stopped by the beach for a swim in the rough, typhoon fed waves. Ray lost the key to one of the motorbikes in the ocean. Because of some AAA equivalent, this turned out to not be a disaster; it was towed to Hualien that night. Sadly though, this marked the end of my driving for the trip, reserving me to the back for the rest of the way.
We spent the night in Hualien, the largest city of the East coast. The whole group all knew each other from boarding school at this town, so they were able to show me some great views and sights. We visited their school, which was founded by Cheng Yen, founder of the Tzu Chi Foundation, one of the most prolific and successful charity foundations in the world. They were very fortunate to attend this prestigious Buddhist High School.
Hualien is one of the top tourist destinations in Taiwan, home of Ocean world, near beaches, but mostly for its proximity to Taiwan's main natural wonder, the Toroko Gorge. We abandoned the coast to go through the gorge to Taichung, a city in the North Center, where Bella was from. The gorge was incredible, but freezing. Ray had not informed me that we would be heading into the mountains, especially not 12,000ft high mountains. It was fine though, he didn't bother informing himself, so we both died in our t-shirt and shorts. I've seen similar landscape, but there was a special quality to the jungle mountains of Taiwan. It may have been the great company.
The rest of the group left in Taichung, but Ray and I continued on for four more hours to his family home. It was the longest ride ever. Something happens to a man's butt and knees when riding on the back of a scooter for ten hours, some of that time spent in a torrential down pour, some of that time spent going up and down the mountains with a speed demon. Ray and I took frequent breaks during the last two hours, ever time disembarking the bike like sufferers of Vitamin D deficiency.
Ray's family was lovely. We were greeted by his cute mother and father who surprised Ray with his English vocabulary. Our dinner of various home cooked Taiwanese dishes was great. The highlight was a sour, ginger flavored organ meat. They were all impressed by my rabid love for this unlikely dish. I fear not offal. Our dessert was coffee at a local cafe, overlooking the city.
Being near a fault, Taipei has some fantastic hot springs. Ray's father took us to one in North of the city. It had been turned into a spa, but was lovely. I spent 2 hours rotating around from the hot pools, the steam room, and sauna, stopping to cool off in the cooler pools. Backpacking and hot springs go together so well, since I spend so much time carrying a 50lb bag, my back loves this treatment.
On my last day, Ray went with me to Taipei, where I had the local style of beef noodles, which was great. Before catching my flight, we rode out to Taipei 101, which is stupidly tall at 509 meters. It was the tallest building in the world from 2004 until 2010, when the 828m tall Burj Khalifa opened (this is like adding an Eiffel Tower to the top of of Taipei 101). The rest of the city looked tiny compared to the monster. When flying out of the country, I could see the symbol of Taiwan sticking out for miles, standing as tall as mountains, until it disappeared with the horizon. This trip was very much worth it, mostly for the company.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Hong Kong and Macau
I'd always planned to visit Fai and Eddie from the moment I purchased a ticket to Beijing. I bought a special visa, which allowed multiple entries over a year. For some reason, despite being a part of China, Hong Kong still counts as leaving China. As my trip kept getting longer, Fai and Eddie would keep sending me occasional emails, wondering when the hell I'd get there. About eleven months after entering Asia, I finally arrived.
As was becoming common in China, my bus arrived earlier than planned. I was used to the opposite and couldn't decide which I preferred less. I awoke at dark in a strange bus station someplace in Shenzhen, a 15 million population city just North of Hong Kong. I quickly deduced I was at the border, but I had to wait two hours for it to open.
As they lifted the gates, the Chinese started running and ducking under the partially opened doors. The German I met on the bus and I simply walked leisurely through customs, making fun of the ridiculous impatience of the Chinese. As I crossed the bridge, I couldn't help but notice the giant razor wire fence separating one Chinese city from another.
To call Hong Kong a Chinese city would be a bit unfair. Hong Kong quickly showed itself to be very different. They even rolled their eyes with the westerners as the Chinese mobbed the currency exchange before it had even opened. Hong Kongers waited in line patiently; they didn't spit; on escalators, if they were merely standing, they did it to the right to allow other to walk up, as opposed to the staggered chaos in China. Traffic followed laws and people followed rules. It was crazy!
I called Fai from his workplace at Hong Kong Polytechnic University, where I had to wait for an hour while he got up and showered and all that. As I said, my bus came very early.
I was just finishing my breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and a sweet corn soup with a hot dog in it, when a man, older, balder, but still unmistakably Fai emerged through the door. I couldn't believe it had been seven years since I'd seen my long lost brother. Fai was the exchange student who wouldn't go home. He first came in 1997, but was back just months later to enroll in UW-Stout in Menomenie, just an hour from the Twin Cities and three hours from home. He was a regular presence on weekends, summers and holidays. He also enrolled for a summer term in Germany while I was there for a month in 2000. We were party buddies for a whole summer before he ran off to England in 2003. Despite only completing an undergrad, Fai managed to hang around until 2004, with a major in computers science and a list of minors to fill a page. I had not seen him since.
We hung out in his office while he finished his work for the day, then headed to the harbor to enjoy a beer and catch up. It was a wet, rainy humid Hong Kong summer day and we spent most of it either eating or walking through endless air conditioned shopping centers.
I was invited to stay with him and his delightful mother in his middle class apartment on the 16th floor of one of the thousands of residential towers all over Kowloon, the penisula that makes up the middle of Hong Kong. We had a feast of tasty Cantonese favorites at their local restaurant, many of which I'd already tried, but loved.
Fai had to work the next day, so I put on my tourist gear and headed to Lantou Island, home of Hong Kong's famous giant Buddha. Despite being one of the densest cities in the world, Hong Kong is mostly green jungle outside of Hong Kong Island, Kowloon and parts of the New Territories. It has somewhere near 1,000 miles of hiking trails with many hidden beaches on its outer islands. Lantou seemed mostly green outside of the International Airport and Disneyland.
I met Eddie, our colorful, long-haired exchange student from 2001, for dinner at a touristy, but delicious street restaurant in the heart of Kowloon. I was not surprised when he arrived late, but I was shocked by his appearance in a Ferrari. I know that we've had wealthy students over the years, most anonymously living our middle-class life without complaint. Eddie was one, but I don't think he took to our standards of living quite so comfortably as some others. He had mentioned his family's riches gained from large-scale construction and how his father lost it all playing baccarat. I didn't really believe him and for this, I was wrong.
We had a great conversation over a beer and a feast of crab, pigeon and mussels. He gave me a quick life update, talking about his hot job as an oil trader. He also mused about the happy simplicity he found in his year living with our family. I was touched.
Fai arrived and we headed to a nearby nightclub to meet some friends. As we walked into the KTV room, Fai's mouth dropped open. Inside was a Sikh and two attractive women. The Sikh shook hands with me and introduced himself in perfect English, "Hi, I'm Paul." He shook Fai's hand with no introduction; he needed none. Apparently, Paul was a famous Hong Kong television star and a pioneer for minorities in show business (as in non-Cantonese). Other TV stars came and went as did young groupies or models. Most started off friendly, then ignored Fai and I once they realized we weren't rich or famous. We got drunk off Chivas Regal, playing a drinking game involving dice and my terrible Mandarin (I didn't speak any Cantonese). Some karaoke ensued, eventually the night dwindled to Eddie, his brother, Fai, Paul and I. Paul was a real cool guy; not stuck up at all. I think he found it relieving to talk to somebody who did not care or know who he was, somebody who just saw him as a nice guy.
Thankfully, Fai had the next day off and spent most of it just relaxing and recovering from our late night. It started with Dim sum, a Cantonese style of eating involving a series of tiny dishes, mostly dumplings. We visited a few places around the city, including the mid-levels escalator on Hong Kong island, at a kilometer of length, stands as the longest in the world. Sadly the never ending rain limited our desire to do much. Besides, we needed our energy for the next day when we headed to Macau.
Macau, much like Hong Kong was a foreign colony of, in this case, Portugal, that was given back to China only recently. It is the Vegas of the East, and with the inpouring of money over the last few years, this is becoming more and more true. It was but a mere hour ferry from Hong Kong and we caught a free casino shuttle to take us for free to the area of the old city we wished to see.
Of course, we had to stop inside, just to look. Our first casino was the Venitian, which was apparently, just like the Vegas version, only bigger. The whole 2nd floor was a shopping mall, but cleverly disguised as an oudoor, daytime Venetian street, with its own river and punted gondolas. The groud floor was the largest gaming area in the world. I quickly lost HK20 (which was strangely the only currency that was used, whereas I found it difficult to spend the Macau money I'd picked up) on a slot machine and quit. Fai however was more successful, winning HK100 (about $13).
I tired of gaming, so we hit up some old colonial houses and stopped for a mediocre Portugese lunch. On the way, I saw the City of Dreams a famous casino I saw featured on some engineering television show. We had to see it. We walked around inside, not gambling, but just watching people play while drinking free coke. One man was feeding HK500 bills continuously into a machine, sticking a toothpick into the roll button for fasting gambling. The credit just went more and more down until it hit zero, then he'd pop another bill in the game. One spin, he won HK1500, but didn't even react; he just stared blankly as his money disappeared. We came across one man at a roullette table, and based on his chip stack, he was doing well. We watched as he carefully dispearsed a stack of chips on various numbers, lines, and corners, each time keeping a few plays and shifting a few others with each new roll. He won something every time, his collection of chips getting unmanagably large, a much desired problem. After watching him win three times in a row, I just had to try it myself. I changed in an HK100 and randomly placed my chips around the numbers. The ball twirled around the spinning plate. My heart went crazy realizing that with one hit, I'd make a lot of money, but with one bad number, everything goes. Finally, the ball landed, but I couldn't see where because it was spinning too fast. The dealer put a crystal marker down, none of my chips sat under it.
So, I changed another hundred, reaching the HK250 gambling budget I alloted myself, and divided my last chips around the table. This time, the ball hit eight, where I'd put a small stack of chips. The dealer then pulled out a massive pile of chips and carefully stacked them in front of me. I'd made my money back. So, I pulled aside the original HK250 in my pocket and left the rest for gambling money. Using this system for years, I rarely lose money at casinos. I set a budget; when I lose, I quit, when I win, I put aside enough to break even and have fun with the winnings.
Fai joined for the next spin and we both won. The next spin as well. Our chips went up and down for the next 30 minutes until we both decided to move on. I walked away with HK300 extra; Fai had lost a bit. We caught the bus to MGM; of course we had to stop there as well. We wandered around and found a crowded table full of cheering players, always a good sign. It was craps. I knew nothing about craps except sevens weren't good, people feel let down when snake eyes emerged, and most seemed spend their winnings on a fresh pair of footware. Even though I was completely ignorant, I pretended poorly that I was confident in what I was doing, and placed a chip randomly on the number nine. Then boom! Nine was up. The dealer threw a bunch of chips at me and the dice were rolled again. Nine! Suddenly I was cheering with the crowd. Hell, I was getting thrown chips for completely unknown reasons. I was sad when seven came up. I gave the dice a go and tossed a seven in my second roll. People who were just moments before, hugging and hopping with me in the throws of mutual luck, glared at me in astounding anger, especially the one man who lost HK10,000 from my bad roll, so I quickly and silently collected my chips and left.
We finally left the gaming zone after spending thirty minutes finding a cashier, stopping to play random slots on the way, and realized it was already evening and there were a few things we wanted to see; Macau was an old colonial city after all. So, we strolled around looking at the architechture, which was honestly quite unremarkable. I'd already seen a bit of Portugese colonial buildings in Malacca and Macau did not seem much better. The most famous sight is the Church of Saint Paul, a stunning ruin with only the front wall remaining. We wandered in and out of little confectionary shops, all with free samples of cookies and beer jerky. It almost counted as a meal. We quickly bored of the city and went to another casino where I lost more of my winnings.
We had planned to catch the last ferry home; Fai had to work the next morning. Then he got a call from Eddie. He was coming and planned to take us out for dinner and treat us to a hotel room for the night. We were already quite tired, but I did want to spend more time with Eddie, so we hit the Sands Casino and watched apothetic gogo girls dance for an hour.
Eddie was late, but treated us to one hell of a dinner with mussels, fish, eel, chicken, and shark fin soupl It was my first time trying this expensive, controversial delicacy. Though it did not taste of much, the crunchy, chewy, stringy texture was extremly pleasing to eat.
Eddie booked a couple rooms at the iconic Grand Lisbona and judging from our previous outing, we feared the extravagence of the room. I would have been content just crashing at a youth hostel, but Eddie was being extremely generous. We got in the elecator and I tried not to look as he pressed a button for the top floor.
The room was so luxurious, I was embarrassed. Fai and I stood agape at the size and the view over the city. The bathroom was the most amazing part. It had a jaccuzzi and the greatest shower I've ever seen. It had a normal showerhead, afixed to an amazing adjustment apparatus, allowing the shower to stay fixed at any possible positon and angle. On top of this, there was a ceiling rain shower with setting to simulate various weather patterns, this combined with the steamy wind machine, help transport me into magical warm water storms of bliss.
Sadly, we could not enjoy the room much. After a shower, we all hit the casino again, where I gambled myself even for the day. We came home around 2AM. Since we needed to catch the first ferry home so Fai could work that morning, the alarm was set for 5AM. The bed was actually too comfortable. After nearly a year of old matresses, floors, tables with bamboo mats, I found it impossible to fall asleep on something actually soft. 'Twas a shame; it was a fantastic bed.
The next morning was rough. The shuttles weren't running so we walked the mile back to the ferry through the aready wet air, passing people wrapping up their epic nights in a city of sin. Fai and I spent the day, after his work, checking out a tiny pocket of old city in teh "New Territories." There were a few houses and pagodas hidden behind some massive high rises. It seemed unlikely they still existed. It was cool to see soem pre-eighteenth century history in Hong Kong, a rare glimpse into the lost pre-modern city.
One of the most famous ways to see the skyline is from Kowloon Harbor for the Symphony of Light, a monumental waste of valuable energy and natural resouces that takes place every night. Essentially, it is a cheesy display of the sky scrapers lighting in time to terrible music. It is not interesting or fun, but it is a great excuse to check out the impressive Hong Kong skyline at night, when it is quite lovely. It strange to call the pompous representation of everything I hate about this world, lovely, but if a skyline can be pretty, Hong Kong would be one.
Eddie took us all out to dinner at a hot pot place high up one of the skyscrapers. We had sashimi and an assortment of goodies for dipping (and no, we did not cook the precious sashimi). It was a hearty, delicious meal. We ended the night in the Soho district of Hong Kong island for a drink at one of the hopping bars, marvelling at the plastic display of urbanites on a Saturday night. Fai and I tired of this quickly and headed home early to leave Eddie to his flirting with over made-up, bitchy, cold women in ear-shatteringly loud conditions. He seemed to be having fun at least.
Fai saw me off in Shezhen the next morning. It was sad to leave and I wish I had more than six days to visit. We went back to the same great friendship so quickly. I quite enjoyed seeing him and his mother again. I was also a treat seeing Eddie as well. I think if I had visited Hong Kong alone, I doubt I would have liked it, but being shown around by locals, much less two great friends made visiting this fascinating city all worthwhile. Thanks.
As was becoming common in China, my bus arrived earlier than planned. I was used to the opposite and couldn't decide which I preferred less. I awoke at dark in a strange bus station someplace in Shenzhen, a 15 million population city just North of Hong Kong. I quickly deduced I was at the border, but I had to wait two hours for it to open.
As they lifted the gates, the Chinese started running and ducking under the partially opened doors. The German I met on the bus and I simply walked leisurely through customs, making fun of the ridiculous impatience of the Chinese. As I crossed the bridge, I couldn't help but notice the giant razor wire fence separating one Chinese city from another.
To call Hong Kong a Chinese city would be a bit unfair. Hong Kong quickly showed itself to be very different. They even rolled their eyes with the westerners as the Chinese mobbed the currency exchange before it had even opened. Hong Kongers waited in line patiently; they didn't spit; on escalators, if they were merely standing, they did it to the right to allow other to walk up, as opposed to the staggered chaos in China. Traffic followed laws and people followed rules. It was crazy!
I called Fai from his workplace at Hong Kong Polytechnic University, where I had to wait for an hour while he got up and showered and all that. As I said, my bus came very early.
I was just finishing my breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and a sweet corn soup with a hot dog in it, when a man, older, balder, but still unmistakably Fai emerged through the door. I couldn't believe it had been seven years since I'd seen my long lost brother. Fai was the exchange student who wouldn't go home. He first came in 1997, but was back just months later to enroll in UW-Stout in Menomenie, just an hour from the Twin Cities and three hours from home. He was a regular presence on weekends, summers and holidays. He also enrolled for a summer term in Germany while I was there for a month in 2000. We were party buddies for a whole summer before he ran off to England in 2003. Despite only completing an undergrad, Fai managed to hang around until 2004, with a major in computers science and a list of minors to fill a page. I had not seen him since.
We hung out in his office while he finished his work for the day, then headed to the harbor to enjoy a beer and catch up. It was a wet, rainy humid Hong Kong summer day and we spent most of it either eating or walking through endless air conditioned shopping centers.
I was invited to stay with him and his delightful mother in his middle class apartment on the 16th floor of one of the thousands of residential towers all over Kowloon, the penisula that makes up the middle of Hong Kong. We had a feast of tasty Cantonese favorites at their local restaurant, many of which I'd already tried, but loved.
Fai had to work the next day, so I put on my tourist gear and headed to Lantou Island, home of Hong Kong's famous giant Buddha. Despite being one of the densest cities in the world, Hong Kong is mostly green jungle outside of Hong Kong Island, Kowloon and parts of the New Territories. It has somewhere near 1,000 miles of hiking trails with many hidden beaches on its outer islands. Lantou seemed mostly green outside of the International Airport and Disneyland.
I met Eddie, our colorful, long-haired exchange student from 2001, for dinner at a touristy, but delicious street restaurant in the heart of Kowloon. I was not surprised when he arrived late, but I was shocked by his appearance in a Ferrari. I know that we've had wealthy students over the years, most anonymously living our middle-class life without complaint. Eddie was one, but I don't think he took to our standards of living quite so comfortably as some others. He had mentioned his family's riches gained from large-scale construction and how his father lost it all playing baccarat. I didn't really believe him and for this, I was wrong.
We had a great conversation over a beer and a feast of crab, pigeon and mussels. He gave me a quick life update, talking about his hot job as an oil trader. He also mused about the happy simplicity he found in his year living with our family. I was touched.
Fai arrived and we headed to a nearby nightclub to meet some friends. As we walked into the KTV room, Fai's mouth dropped open. Inside was a Sikh and two attractive women. The Sikh shook hands with me and introduced himself in perfect English, "Hi, I'm Paul." He shook Fai's hand with no introduction; he needed none. Apparently, Paul was a famous Hong Kong television star and a pioneer for minorities in show business (as in non-Cantonese). Other TV stars came and went as did young groupies or models. Most started off friendly, then ignored Fai and I once they realized we weren't rich or famous. We got drunk off Chivas Regal, playing a drinking game involving dice and my terrible Mandarin (I didn't speak any Cantonese). Some karaoke ensued, eventually the night dwindled to Eddie, his brother, Fai, Paul and I. Paul was a real cool guy; not stuck up at all. I think he found it relieving to talk to somebody who did not care or know who he was, somebody who just saw him as a nice guy.
Thankfully, Fai had the next day off and spent most of it just relaxing and recovering from our late night. It started with Dim sum, a Cantonese style of eating involving a series of tiny dishes, mostly dumplings. We visited a few places around the city, including the mid-levels escalator on Hong Kong island, at a kilometer of length, stands as the longest in the world. Sadly the never ending rain limited our desire to do much. Besides, we needed our energy for the next day when we headed to Macau.
Macau, much like Hong Kong was a foreign colony of, in this case, Portugal, that was given back to China only recently. It is the Vegas of the East, and with the inpouring of money over the last few years, this is becoming more and more true. It was but a mere hour ferry from Hong Kong and we caught a free casino shuttle to take us for free to the area of the old city we wished to see.
Of course, we had to stop inside, just to look. Our first casino was the Venitian, which was apparently, just like the Vegas version, only bigger. The whole 2nd floor was a shopping mall, but cleverly disguised as an oudoor, daytime Venetian street, with its own river and punted gondolas. The groud floor was the largest gaming area in the world. I quickly lost HK20 (which was strangely the only currency that was used, whereas I found it difficult to spend the Macau money I'd picked up) on a slot machine and quit. Fai however was more successful, winning HK100 (about $13).
I tired of gaming, so we hit up some old colonial houses and stopped for a mediocre Portugese lunch. On the way, I saw the City of Dreams a famous casino I saw featured on some engineering television show. We had to see it. We walked around inside, not gambling, but just watching people play while drinking free coke. One man was feeding HK500 bills continuously into a machine, sticking a toothpick into the roll button for fasting gambling. The credit just went more and more down until it hit zero, then he'd pop another bill in the game. One spin, he won HK1500, but didn't even react; he just stared blankly as his money disappeared. We came across one man at a roullette table, and based on his chip stack, he was doing well. We watched as he carefully dispearsed a stack of chips on various numbers, lines, and corners, each time keeping a few plays and shifting a few others with each new roll. He won something every time, his collection of chips getting unmanagably large, a much desired problem. After watching him win three times in a row, I just had to try it myself. I changed in an HK100 and randomly placed my chips around the numbers. The ball twirled around the spinning plate. My heart went crazy realizing that with one hit, I'd make a lot of money, but with one bad number, everything goes. Finally, the ball landed, but I couldn't see where because it was spinning too fast. The dealer put a crystal marker down, none of my chips sat under it.
So, I changed another hundred, reaching the HK250 gambling budget I alloted myself, and divided my last chips around the table. This time, the ball hit eight, where I'd put a small stack of chips. The dealer then pulled out a massive pile of chips and carefully stacked them in front of me. I'd made my money back. So, I pulled aside the original HK250 in my pocket and left the rest for gambling money. Using this system for years, I rarely lose money at casinos. I set a budget; when I lose, I quit, when I win, I put aside enough to break even and have fun with the winnings.
Fai joined for the next spin and we both won. The next spin as well. Our chips went up and down for the next 30 minutes until we both decided to move on. I walked away with HK300 extra; Fai had lost a bit. We caught the bus to MGM; of course we had to stop there as well. We wandered around and found a crowded table full of cheering players, always a good sign. It was craps. I knew nothing about craps except sevens weren't good, people feel let down when snake eyes emerged, and most seemed spend their winnings on a fresh pair of footware. Even though I was completely ignorant, I pretended poorly that I was confident in what I was doing, and placed a chip randomly on the number nine. Then boom! Nine was up. The dealer threw a bunch of chips at me and the dice were rolled again. Nine! Suddenly I was cheering with the crowd. Hell, I was getting thrown chips for completely unknown reasons. I was sad when seven came up. I gave the dice a go and tossed a seven in my second roll. People who were just moments before, hugging and hopping with me in the throws of mutual luck, glared at me in astounding anger, especially the one man who lost HK10,000 from my bad roll, so I quickly and silently collected my chips and left.
We finally left the gaming zone after spending thirty minutes finding a cashier, stopping to play random slots on the way, and realized it was already evening and there were a few things we wanted to see; Macau was an old colonial city after all. So, we strolled around looking at the architechture, which was honestly quite unremarkable. I'd already seen a bit of Portugese colonial buildings in Malacca and Macau did not seem much better. The most famous sight is the Church of Saint Paul, a stunning ruin with only the front wall remaining. We wandered in and out of little confectionary shops, all with free samples of cookies and beer jerky. It almost counted as a meal. We quickly bored of the city and went to another casino where I lost more of my winnings.
We had planned to catch the last ferry home; Fai had to work the next morning. Then he got a call from Eddie. He was coming and planned to take us out for dinner and treat us to a hotel room for the night. We were already quite tired, but I did want to spend more time with Eddie, so we hit the Sands Casino and watched apothetic gogo girls dance for an hour.
Eddie was late, but treated us to one hell of a dinner with mussels, fish, eel, chicken, and shark fin soupl It was my first time trying this expensive, controversial delicacy. Though it did not taste of much, the crunchy, chewy, stringy texture was extremly pleasing to eat.
Eddie booked a couple rooms at the iconic Grand Lisbona and judging from our previous outing, we feared the extravagence of the room. I would have been content just crashing at a youth hostel, but Eddie was being extremely generous. We got in the elecator and I tried not to look as he pressed a button for the top floor.
The room was so luxurious, I was embarrassed. Fai and I stood agape at the size and the view over the city. The bathroom was the most amazing part. It had a jaccuzzi and the greatest shower I've ever seen. It had a normal showerhead, afixed to an amazing adjustment apparatus, allowing the shower to stay fixed at any possible positon and angle. On top of this, there was a ceiling rain shower with setting to simulate various weather patterns, this combined with the steamy wind machine, help transport me into magical warm water storms of bliss.
Sadly, we could not enjoy the room much. After a shower, we all hit the casino again, where I gambled myself even for the day. We came home around 2AM. Since we needed to catch the first ferry home so Fai could work that morning, the alarm was set for 5AM. The bed was actually too comfortable. After nearly a year of old matresses, floors, tables with bamboo mats, I found it impossible to fall asleep on something actually soft. 'Twas a shame; it was a fantastic bed.
The next morning was rough. The shuttles weren't running so we walked the mile back to the ferry through the aready wet air, passing people wrapping up their epic nights in a city of sin. Fai and I spent the day, after his work, checking out a tiny pocket of old city in teh "New Territories." There were a few houses and pagodas hidden behind some massive high rises. It seemed unlikely they still existed. It was cool to see soem pre-eighteenth century history in Hong Kong, a rare glimpse into the lost pre-modern city.
One of the most famous ways to see the skyline is from Kowloon Harbor for the Symphony of Light, a monumental waste of valuable energy and natural resouces that takes place every night. Essentially, it is a cheesy display of the sky scrapers lighting in time to terrible music. It is not interesting or fun, but it is a great excuse to check out the impressive Hong Kong skyline at night, when it is quite lovely. It strange to call the pompous representation of everything I hate about this world, lovely, but if a skyline can be pretty, Hong Kong would be one.
Eddie took us all out to dinner at a hot pot place high up one of the skyscrapers. We had sashimi and an assortment of goodies for dipping (and no, we did not cook the precious sashimi). It was a hearty, delicious meal. We ended the night in the Soho district of Hong Kong island for a drink at one of the hopping bars, marvelling at the plastic display of urbanites on a Saturday night. Fai and I tired of this quickly and headed home early to leave Eddie to his flirting with over made-up, bitchy, cold women in ear-shatteringly loud conditions. He seemed to be having fun at least.
Fai saw me off in Shezhen the next morning. It was sad to leave and I wish I had more than six days to visit. We went back to the same great friendship so quickly. I quite enjoyed seeing him and his mother again. I was also a treat seeing Eddie as well. I think if I had visited Hong Kong alone, I doubt I would have liked it, but being shown around by locals, much less two great friends made visiting this fascinating city all worthwhile. Thanks.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Yangshuo
China is home to some legendary scenery and the Li River is among the most famous. It features even more limestone karsts and though South Asia is riddled with them, Yangshuo is considered the best.
At one time Guilin was the grand capital of Li River tourism. The masses flocked here to inner-city scenery parks with multi-colored lighted caves and staircase-scaled mountains. The western backpackers flocked to Yangshuo, a city south of the main sights that was smaller, and merely a day trip for the million of Chinese tourists. Things have changed and the Chinese have now discovered the town. It may have been the most crowded tourist city I've ever seen. Somehow though, it maintained its small charm. This is helped by the two intersecting rivers and its location within a bowl of mountains.
The real charm is its easy access to the countryside. I met a cool Irish guy, who joined me at the Buddha Water Cave on my first day. This advertised "all-natural" cave/spa featured gorgeous stalactites and stalagmites, some of which were obviously sculpted and painted metal. Deep in the cave was an incredibly fun mud pool. The buoyancy was great for floating and gliding across its surface. Deep in the cave was an incredibly fun mud pool. After a rinse, we were then led to a hot spring which was surprisingly nice on such a hot day. It was a touristy visit, but my skin and muscles felt great afterward.
We spent the rest of the day and all the next biking around the countryside. Somehow, the villages nearby never got the memo announcing that this was a tourist hotspot, because even a mere mile from town, people went along with their pastoral lifestyle as if nobody was there. This was the true charm of the area, being able to view authentic rural life within sublime scenery, not more than five minutes from a bustling tourist ghetto. We left the road getting lost on small trails between the rice fields, eventually stopping for a swim in the peaceful Yulong River, while the locals fished. This was what China was meant to be.
The next day I bused to Kanting to walk a 16km hike along the Li River, the biggest draw of the area. I met a nice Chinese student who joined me for the day. He helped me negotiate prices for the boat trips across the three crossings of the trail and taught me many new Chinese words. The hike was beautiful, but lacked the quaintness of the Yulon. The entire stretch of river was crowded by "bamboo boats" (actually made from PVC) filled with Chinese people who preferred soaking each other with water pistols over soaking up the gorgeous scenery. The hike was not popular; we met nobody along the way except peddlers trying to convince to abandon the hike and board their "bamboo" instead. It ended with the area's most famous sight, the mountain on the back of the 20 yuan bill.
That night at the hostel, a few beers led to a walk, which led to a few beers along the river, which led to a British guy, a Chinese woman and me skinny dipping for a couple of hours in the surprisingly fast, but thankfully shallow river. I was the first to do it, they all at first jumped in with their clothes, but I was leaving the next day and didn't want them to get wet; plus, I'd broken the nighttime skinny dipping barrier in Thailand numerous times with various groups of women from Spice (Oh yeah ;-) ). The British guy joined as a coup to get our Chinese companion naked. It worked and he used teaching her to swim as a play into her lack of pants. I of course was dating Michelle and did my best to help in a non-suggestive manner (he took a more hands on approach to his teaching style). I didn't have the heart to tell him that I knew she was engaged and already had another boyfriend of the side who had just left that day, though her already infidelity might have encouraged him further anyway. At some point, an obviously drunk local wandered down to the water, hearing our splashing, so we hid under a ledge. The British guy took it for the team and emerged when he called out. He spoke fluent Chinese, making him a better candidate than me or the naked Chinese woman. I'm sure a big scandal might have arisen from the revelation of all three of us: two naked white men in the water with a poor young, pretty, "innocent" Chinese girl.
So the Brit talked while the two of us laughed silently, doing our best to stay hidden. Then she started to fondle me. I kept doing my best to avoid her advances without making a sound, which I found difficult, for a number of reasons. The biggest was I couldn't see her hands until they were upon me. The Brit and the stranger talked for ages, while I kept politely pushing the woman away from me. Finally, after ages of discomfort, the man left and I bolted away from the girl. Never thought I'd find myself in a position to run from an attractive naked woman making moves on me. I felt bad for the Brit who was stuck in a three-way romance with a girl who didn't want him, but fancied another man who wasn't interested. After she left for a toilet, sometime on the way home, I encouraged him to make a move if he was interested. In the end, it didn't matter as the girl passed out and we both had to carry her to bed. It was one of the strangest nights of my trip.
We had all planned a mass climb of Moon Hill; many joined except the Chinese woman who was too embarrassed or hung over to leave her room. Moon Hill is not high, but it has great views and was a tough climb in the humidity. I've never sweat so much in whole life. At the top, I stripped my shirt and wrung it out. It could not have been more saturated even if I'd dumped it in a bucket of water. A shower was a welcome coda to the hike before hopping on a bus to Hong Kong.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Nujiang Valley
I couldn't take it any longer. Quiet, rustic, secluded Yunnan, home of the exiled, end of the line, land of the uncontrollable tribes and untameable mountain was too noisy, too touristy, and too commodified. I planned to venture further to Shangrila and Dequin, on the Tibetan border, but two travelers had warned me that these places were just as bad as Lijang and Dali. The locals had been driven out completely by developers. No culture left but that of the Yuan. It didn't sound like the place for me. It seemed there was only one unspoiled place left, where the locals still live, where the tribal life flourishes, where people still travel across the river by zip-line. The Nujiang is a valley so revered, so untouched, the people of China actually stood up to the government to prevent them from damming it. It is the only untouched river in China. Over half of the nation's endangered species live in its valley. It was the Yunnan I'd been looking for.
Getting there though was a bit of a trek. Though Dequin is only a few miles from Bingzhongluo at the top of the valley, one has to cross 6000m high mountains to get there. A road is planned for the future and given China's track record for destruction of nature and blind progress, despite any obstacle, it is probably not far in the future. For now though, I had to bus back to plains in Dali, then cross a series of valleys until I reached Liuku. From there, I caught an eight hour bus up the valley, on a cliff side road through the steep canyon cut by the Nujiang.
What I found was not what I expected, of course. The road was well maintained, paved the whole way, only a couple stretches were too narrow for the passage of two buses. Despite the modest population of this dead end road, traffic was continuous. The tribal villages looked like any small Chinese town: dusty, flat and architecturally characterless. I saw the famous zip-lines, but the villagers were more keen on using real bridges built by the government.
The valley itself though was beautiful, but not as dramatic as expected. The jungle was thick on both sides, but despite the deepness, it was not nearly as craggy as the Yangzi. I did love the green quilt pulled over the hills, sometimes towering to thousands of feet. I felt small in this forested wonderland. There was one mountain with a big hole through it peak that I thought was really cool.
When I reached Bingzhongluo, the end of the line, last city before the wild mountain frontier of Tibet, I could not help but be let down. Bingzhongluo was a dusty wasteland, with a sizable population of Han Chinese. All of the tribes wore their traditional LA Laker's jerseys. I was also the only tourist in town, which was simultaneously relieving and unnerving. When walking the streets, I was the White guy in town. Everyone knew who I was; it was that type of town. Thankfully, I wasn't hassled by anyone.
After a boring night alone, sipping beer and writing, I awoke with a mission. Since this wasn't the end of the line, I'd find it. So I strapped on my shoes, threw some water and snacks in my bag and headed for Tibet by foot.
The valley changed immensely once on foot. The unimpressive valley that just flew by seemed deeper; embarking alone made the jungle more formidable and the villages more charming. The people were smiling, interrupting their farming or bong smoking to wave and chuckle at the unlikely sight of a white guy walking alone through the valley. There were constant signs showing a police officer beating any who decided to cut down powerlines. Maybe this was the end of the line after all, just the end of the line China differs from Laos or other less developed countries. After about 10km, I passed a tiny village with a police checkpoint. Here was the border of Tibet. They waved me through with a smile after a terrible conversation between my broken Chinese and their broken English: the road just stopped a few miles ahead anyway and I doubt they expected me to trek up the mountains into Tibet proper without supplies. I could have gone further, but I'd reached my goal; I walked to Tibet and I was damn tired and had to walk all the way back again to Bingzhongluo.
The next day, I relocated down river. My goal was to see a zipline in action, then use one myself. A village with a wire bridge was rumored about 20km south of Gongshan. I walked a while, then hitchhiked 10km with a bus full of friendly Chinese tourists from Kunming. They dropped me off in the village which seemed to confuse the locals, and I headed south in search of the Lisu, the rope bridge. Finally, I found one. Two cords stretched across the river, quite high up, one sat a few meters above the other. They were just wires across a river. I thought there'd be a rope or a harness or something, but it was just a cord. A local villager whistled by in his Kobe Bryant t-shirt; I asked him if this was a rope bridge, he confirmed. I tried to get him to demonstrate, but he just encouraged me instead with a laugh. I crawled down to the wire and considered how it would work. I looked down at the raging river, a hundred feet below; I could see why it had the name Nujiang, "angry river". I decided to leave the local tradition in the past, instead starting up an unlikely broken conversation with now traditionally yellow and purple clad youth, until he left me at a real bridge. This is as close as it gets to authentic anyway. Much of China's past is but an idea. On my way back down the valley, I saw the villages for what they were, still lovely examples of the rare rural China with their markets and dust. I saw a woman hook up an elaborate pulley apparatus to one of the Lisu, but we sped by too quickly on bus to watch it work. I was the only who bothered to even look.
Tiger Leaping Gorge
Tiger Leaping Gorge is the famous hike of China, and rightfully so. It follow the Yangse for 15 miles, high on the cliffs of Haba Shan, in the shadow of Yuelong Xueshan, a craggy mass. I expected the hike to be packed, but it wasn't at all. Which is strange, since everywhere in the province was bursting with people and the gorge was the best thing I saw in all of Yunnan.
We started with a quick breakfast at a guesthouse in Quiotou and headed on our way. The walls of the restaurant were scattered with both stories of the hike's greatness and stories of being hopelessly lost on the trail. The latter stories seemed odd, given the trail's popularity, traffic, and clearly marked signs. Some just aren't meant to hike.
It was a bit strenuous; my Nepal days were definitely long behind me, but it really wasn't too bad. The main test was the 28 bends, a series of switchbacks a bit before the halfway point. After this, the trail was mostly downhill. I spend the night at the Midway Guesthouse, home of one of the world's most scenic toilets. Starring right at the cliffs of Yulong Xueshan across the river, the urinal gave the impression of pissing thousands of feet right into the Yangse below.
The second day was even more intense. I left the main trail and descended deep into the gorge, right to the riverbank. The rapids were beautiful and intense, crashing along the narrow walls of the cliffs, flowing down quickly, with the type of speed expected to carve such a narrow canyon. Many tourists were scrambling down to see the Tiger Leaping Stone. From this point, according to a legend, a tiger, escaping a hunter leaped across the gorge to safety, hence the name. I was happy for the high given by such magnificent scenery, because the trail went straight up the cliff, in a dizzying gut-buster, featuring a 100ft ladder up an open cliff face.
From the top, the trail continues further, but apparently the scenery is not so great (comparatively). Therefore, I caught a bus back to Lijang and brought my hike to a close.
Dali and Lijang
Kunming made me crave something more quaint, older and more authentic, and the old cities of Dali and Lijang seemed just the cure. Sadly, I was wrong.
Dali, a famous old city on the shore of Luhai Lake, sandwiched between two mountain ranges sounded fantastic. It was one of the first backpacker towns in China and I hoped to spend two days hiking in the mountains about town, enjoying the view of the lake below. What I found was more city. The people never stopped and the ancient city was just a small area within the mass. What set it apart from the rest were some gates (the wall was gone) and the masses of Chinese tourists buying stupid souvenirs. I chose a hostel out of town that sounded lovely and was, except I was the only one there. It rained every day I was there, so spent most of my time writing, only stopping into to town to have meals at a restaurant ran by a really cute owner.
Lijang proved just as touristy, maybe even more, but it at least maintained its charm. It was truly an old city, restored, but most of the well built buildings stood in their near original forms, minus the shops selling traditional Naxi costumes and the flute and drum shops, each featuring store keeper poorly playing the instruments along with the same song. It was so easy to get lost. I found a square, took a left, walked a bit, then came back to the same square. So, I went South, walked a bit and found myself again in the same square. I found it fun. Others did not. I distinctly heard one American woman yell into her phone in frustration, "We'be been walking this same street for hours and we keep coming back here!" There are worse places to get lost than amongst charming canals lined with Chinese lanterns and tree blossoms. I typically don't like such ridiculously touristy places, but Lijang was nice. Still, one day was plenty.
Kunming
I had unfounded expectations for Kunming. the book painted a picture of a lovely small Chinese city, modern yes, but small. A population listed as a mere 1.2 million, sitting on the North shore of one of China's most famous lakes, the West side a towering cliff of rocky hills. All I saw when I arrived was freeway interchanges, twisting around and around into infinity. Where was Kunming?
The Brazilian woman I met in the rice fields and I exited the bus to the normal barrage of touts and taxi drivers, pouncing on us ignorant travelers; for many, Kunming is the first stop in China after Vietnam and Laos.
"Hello, I can help you, I speak a little English." said a tiny, nerdy guy with thick rimmed glasses.
"That's ok, we're just gonna catch a city buy into to town." I said mechanically.
"Oh no, there are no city buses here; you're far from the city." said the skinning man, as a city bus drove off behind him.
"Then what is that?." I said, pointing to the bus.
"Oh, these buses only go the villages. You have to take a taxi." The next line was no surprise. "I can take you town for only 100 quai!"
"Hell no!" I said with a big smile. Any sign of anger and you lose the battle.
"Ok, ok, 70." I kept walking away from him. "60!" Still walking. "50!"
"I am taking a city bus!"
"These only go to villages."
I stopped walking and turned to him. "So, what you are telling me, is that the thousands of people who arrive here every day, at this busy bus hub for Kunming, are either villagers or they take taxis."
"Yes."
"Liar." I walked away.
"I no lie! I can take you, only 50 quai."
"If I take a taxi, it will be with a meter."
"No, nobody has meters in Kunming."
"No meters on the taxis?"
The man was standing next to a taxi; I could clearly see the meter through the window. I pointed, "That taxi has a meter."
"Ok, they have meters, but they will all rip you off."
At that moment, the Brazilian had returned from sensibly asking the police for directions to the city buses. "He said we catch them over there."
"Don't take the bus! They only go to villages!!" the little man's glasses almost fogged up as he yelled.
"Since we are not taking a taxi and if we do, we'd never take yours, since you've been lying to us and you won't leave us alone. So please sir, could you kindly go find another tourist to swindle." I explained.
"Ok, I understand. but I want to help you. I will come and help you find bus."
"Thank you sir, but we've both been to China before, we know how to get by fine ourselves."
"I wish you a safe journey, just take bus 30."
"Thanks."
We went to the bus hub and there we found a clear map of bus system for Kunming. It was only in Chinese.
"Can you read Chinese?" The man had followed us.
"Not really."
"Oh, then map is no help for you."
"I have a bilingual map here, I just have to compare it to the bus system on this map." After that, I did my best to ignore him. The buses listed in the Lonely Planet were of course wrong, but the map was clear enough.
"Bus 30! Bus 30!" the man yelled like a tiny Pomeranian looking for attention.
Bus 30, according to the map went though the country and villages, just as the man said, but the 95 went straight to town.
"Let's take the 95." I suggested to the Brazilian.
"Oh, 95 is good too!" The man exclaimed.
So we stood in line to catch our bus.
"The bus is 3 quai each, so six quai total." the man explained to us, despite our attempts to start a conversation not involving him. When the bus arrived, the fare was clearly printed as only 1 yuan.
"You pay six!" he yelled.
"It only costs one each; it's clearly printed."
"Ok, now I tell you, I am not just a taxi driver, I am also security for this bus station." He pulled out his wallet which had a plastic fake American police badge, everything in English, nary a Chinese symbol to be found. "You two are in big trouble, come with me."
We boarded the bus despite his threats and only paid one each even though the man was yelling to the driver to charge us triple price. Finally he gave up.
"Goodbye friends! I wish you the best of luck!"
What a fucking wanker.
We took the bus into the town center and caught a real taxi to our hostel from there. Once we passed the maze of overpasses and interchanges, the city was a massive expanse of skyscrapers and flashing LCD signs. Not a single building looked older than two years. It was obvious that this city had more than 1.2 million; it was closer to seven. This was the quaint capital of one of China's most remote provinces?
I tentatively planned three days in Kunming, but I cut that down to one. Shilin, the magnificent stone forest, 100km to the south is the most popular draw, but I boycotted it due to its oppressively high $40 entrance fee. I wondered how Chinese family of three could afford it, having to spend a month's wage. Instead, I ventured to the West Hills, the craggy "mountain" to Kunming's South, along the lake. The main attraction is the Dragon's Gate, halfway to the top, a doorway carved into the side of a cliff overlooking Kunming and the lake. The hike was very neat, passing through little caves and cliff-side grottoes. I did not enjoy waiting for the super slow Germans who came with me, but they were quite nice. The view was a bit depressing: a polluted lake, an endless polluted city, but the mountain itself was nice. this was all I needed to see. Expats do tell me that it is a terrible place to visit, but a great place to live. Good news for my friend Mila who will move there in August.
Yuanyang Rice Terraces
One of China's most famous sights is the endless expanse of rice terraces, stretching for miles, climbing up mountains during the sunrise. Normally, these spectacular shots are of the Yuanyang Rice Terraces in Southern Yunnan Province. It was another of the great places I first saw on Wild China, a great documentary by the BBC.
The writer for the Yunnan section of the Lonely Planet was terrible as I learned again and again. He drew a crude map of the area, but not of the town. His directions were unhelpful. He listed a hostel, but didn't tell where to find it; he didn't even list the village. I arrived with no ammo and no clue. I walked around aimlessly for fifteen minutes before a woman found me and brought me to her guest house.
She gave me a map, which was somehow even worse than the Lonely Planet one, seeming more artistic than based upon any kind of direction. So, I picked a road and walked. I'd gathered that the village was not walking distance to any of the spectacular terraces, but where I went was lovely; I spied locals going about their business, working the fields. I stopped to buy a water at tiny shop, and next thing I knew, some random villager was taking me by the arm to his home for food. I wasn't hungry, but such opportunities are fleeting and form the basis for everything I love about traveling: first hand exposure to another culture. The man and his family were Hanni and didn't speak any English; their Chinese wasn't too great either, but he could read and write the characters, which wasn't helpful to me.
I ate a few bites of food, got a bit drunk on some endless toasts of baijou, and smoked some non-intoxicating week, probably a type of tobacco, out of one of the giant bongs smoked all over North Vietnam and Yunnan. I stayed mostly silent, except to either repeat the last two words of any question asked of or to utter "Wo ting bu dong! (I don't understand.) They tired of my conversation quickly, but seemed to enjoy the random foreigner quotient of the evening. I doubt my random road choice sees many tourists. On my way out the guy scribbled something in the dirt, roughly translated to "Something Something Something China Something Something Good," and smiled. I take that as a positive omen.
I wasn't seeing too many westerners myself for a place featured on the first page of the book, I figured it would be swarming during the peak season. The next day, I emerged late in the morning after three coffees made on my Vietnamese coffee filter system (best buy ever before coming to the coffee anemic China). I finally saw six white people sitting in the lobby. "Foreigners!"
"Well hello." one said, "want some coffee?"
"Sure!" I replied. "Sorry, I haven't talked to anyone in three days. I was beginning to think foreigners didn't exist in Yunnan."
So I spent the day with this group, joining one for a sunset tour that got rained out. The next morning, we woke up for a sunrise tour, which was also rained out. Thankfully, it cleared up enough for a hike along the terraces. Our guide told us to walk in a certain direction, explaining it all the best he could in simple Chinese. I finally gathered we were to walk to the second village and not to take a left at any point, then he'd meet us with the van down the line. We got lost, having taken a right that led to a dead end and took so long, we were to miss our bus to Kunming that day. The walk was lovely though and we worked out an alternative route to Kunming that was cheaper than the direct bus. Sometimes seemingly annoying things work out for the best.
I think I've been travelign too long. The terraces of Yuanyang are gorgeous, but they did not excite me. This left me not only disappointed, but also with a great underlying guilt. Here I was, standing at one of the great sights fo the world and I'm unimpressed. What the other people see is gone. All that stands before me is a bunch of rice, yes, incomprehensible amounts, but rice all the same. This is the sign it is time to go home, but I still have a month left.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Going back to China
Michelle left at six in the morning; I saw her off and caught a quick hour nap before departing myself. I had a long bus ride to the border that day.
Getting my ticket to Lao Cai was much harder than it should have been. First off, the station from which I had to depart was the main bus station for Halong Bay. Every thirty seconds, at least, somebody approached me. "Halong?"
"No, Lao Cai."
"Haiphong?"
"Lao Cai."
"Halong?"
"LAO CAI!"
I went to the ticket window, avoiding the rouge touts trying to get me to buy overpriced, unofficial bus ticket to a city three hours in the wrong direction.
"Lao Cai." I asked.
The woman spoke no English, but I could tell that getting to the border was not as clear cut as hoped. She talked in Vietnamese for quite a while, only stopping when somebody would interrupt us to ask me if I was going to Halong Bay.
"Halong!"
"No, Lao Cai."
"Haiphong?"
"Lao Cai!"
"Halong?"
"LAO CAI! LAO CAI! LAO CAI!!!!!!"
Finally I had a ticket in my hand. I marched outside, physically pushing my way through more people trying to force me to Halong Bay. A young lad grabbed me and took me back inside to the ticket woman. He didn't speak English either, but was much more adept at alternate forms of communication. Apparently, no direct bus left for Lao Cai until that evening, which was no good for me. Thankfully, the lad was the conductor for a bus heading halfway to Lao Cai, where I could catch a connecting bus. It is quite amazing how these crazy coincidences always arise in Asia. I sort of understood this, but the original ticket lady had called somebody on her mobile who spoke English and explained to me clearly. The lade gave the boy my full fare, even though he was only taking me part way.
Once out of the never-ending suburbs of Hanoi, it was a lovely trip, with beautiful mountain scenery, rice paddies, jungles, and for the first time in Vietnam, I saw small villages! The Vietnamese locals stared, made fun of me (you can always tell) and were quite amused by my habit of crunching up noodle soup packets and eating them dry (cheapest snack in Asia!). After five hours, the lad pointed to me, said "Lao Cai, Lao Cai!" I jumped off the bus, made an immediate change to the other bus. The lad paid the extra fare to the new driver, very clearly showing me he was honest. For a smug, conceited punk like that, I quite respected this gesture; it made up for his blatant mockery of me.
After a few more scenic hours, I arrived at the Chinese border and prepared for one of the most infamous crossings in Asia.
I'm not sure why, maybe it is the most common land crossing for China by tourists, but the Lao Cai/Hekou border is one of the toughest in all of China. I've heard many a horror story of tourists having their entire bags emptied, book inspected, or worse, having all printed material thrown away despite the content. Lonely Planet warns that all passing this border should at least masque the cover of their China Lonely Planets; apparently, they are offended by Taiwan being portrayed as a separate country.. I passed without an inspection or even a second look.
Hekou was a nicer than average border town. It appeared to merely be one giant market with prostitutes. I was lucky to have easily found a hotel owner (he may have found me), who had a cheap, but dirty room, only a block from the bus station; my bus left at 6:00am the next day. "You want pretty Chinese girl, boom boom?" he asked before leaving.
"Nah, that's fine, I have to get up early tomorrow." I left to get some food and a beer.
It was quite refreshing to actually return to a country for once. I knew already some of the essentials for the language and had a general idea of costs. I randomly ordered a dish by point method, beef fried rice. I would think I'd have remembered those symbols. It was still good. China may not be a new country, but I still had a lot more to learn.
Getting my ticket to Lao Cai was much harder than it should have been. First off, the station from which I had to depart was the main bus station for Halong Bay. Every thirty seconds, at least, somebody approached me. "Halong?"
"No, Lao Cai."
"Haiphong?"
"Lao Cai."
"Halong?"
"LAO CAI!"
I went to the ticket window, avoiding the rouge touts trying to get me to buy overpriced, unofficial bus ticket to a city three hours in the wrong direction.
"Lao Cai." I asked.
The woman spoke no English, but I could tell that getting to the border was not as clear cut as hoped. She talked in Vietnamese for quite a while, only stopping when somebody would interrupt us to ask me if I was going to Halong Bay.
"Halong!"
"No, Lao Cai."
"Haiphong?"
"Lao Cai!"
"Halong?"
"LAO CAI! LAO CAI! LAO CAI!!!!!!"
Finally I had a ticket in my hand. I marched outside, physically pushing my way through more people trying to force me to Halong Bay. A young lad grabbed me and took me back inside to the ticket woman. He didn't speak English either, but was much more adept at alternate forms of communication. Apparently, no direct bus left for Lao Cai until that evening, which was no good for me. Thankfully, the lad was the conductor for a bus heading halfway to Lao Cai, where I could catch a connecting bus. It is quite amazing how these crazy coincidences always arise in Asia. I sort of understood this, but the original ticket lady had called somebody on her mobile who spoke English and explained to me clearly. The lade gave the boy my full fare, even though he was only taking me part way.
Once out of the never-ending suburbs of Hanoi, it was a lovely trip, with beautiful mountain scenery, rice paddies, jungles, and for the first time in Vietnam, I saw small villages! The Vietnamese locals stared, made fun of me (you can always tell) and were quite amused by my habit of crunching up noodle soup packets and eating them dry (cheapest snack in Asia!). After five hours, the lad pointed to me, said "Lao Cai, Lao Cai!" I jumped off the bus, made an immediate change to the other bus. The lad paid the extra fare to the new driver, very clearly showing me he was honest. For a smug, conceited punk like that, I quite respected this gesture; it made up for his blatant mockery of me.
After a few more scenic hours, I arrived at the Chinese border and prepared for one of the most infamous crossings in Asia.
I'm not sure why, maybe it is the most common land crossing for China by tourists, but the Lao Cai/Hekou border is one of the toughest in all of China. I've heard many a horror story of tourists having their entire bags emptied, book inspected, or worse, having all printed material thrown away despite the content. Lonely Planet warns that all passing this border should at least masque the cover of their China Lonely Planets; apparently, they are offended by Taiwan being portrayed as a separate country.. I passed without an inspection or even a second look.
Hekou was a nicer than average border town. It appeared to merely be one giant market with prostitutes. I was lucky to have easily found a hotel owner (he may have found me), who had a cheap, but dirty room, only a block from the bus station; my bus left at 6:00am the next day. "You want pretty Chinese girl, boom boom?" he asked before leaving.
"Nah, that's fine, I have to get up early tomorrow." I left to get some food and a beer.
It was quite refreshing to actually return to a country for once. I knew already some of the essentials for the language and had a general idea of costs. I randomly ordered a dish by point method, beef fried rice. I would think I'd have remembered those symbols. It was still good. China may not be a new country, but I still had a lot more to learn.
Hanoi
The bus that evening took us to a different bus station than expected, but I was able to follow the bus's course on my map and found out where we were. The Lonely Planet warned about the infamous taxi mafia of Hanoi, who overcharge, or worse, drop tourists at the wrong hotel, but with an identical name. We didn't want to be another victim. I'd learned early in my trip that taxi drivers were not to be trusted, so I developed a safe method to avoid scams and hotel touting. Simply have them drop you off at a high profile tourist attraction close to hotels, but also on a main road.
Our taxi driver was smiley and friendly, never a good sign in Asia, so I watched him closely, following his course on my map, noting the distance and spotting the meter. We pulled out of the parking lot and magically traveled two kilometers! I've never been too great with distance, but I doubted this tiny parking lot was among the world's largest bus stations.
"Hey man, meter broken."
He ignored me.
"Meter fast!"
He continued to ignore me. About every ten feet, the meter would add a hundred meters. It also kindly rounded .9km to 1.1km every time. Though we'd driven about three kilometers total (I watched his car odometer carefully), we'd somehow driven a total of ten kilometers, enough to put us well into the suburbs. He asked for his money from Michelle while I took down his registration for yet another email to the Vietnamese Board of Tourism. We sadly had no small change, so we gave him 50,000, half the meter. He stood there with his hand out wanting more.
"No!" I said. "Meter fast."
He chuckled, did not argue and got in his taxi and left. He still made twice the fare from us anyway.
We tried to find a dirty, cheap hotel, but had no luck. The cheapest (and we had to do a walkaway to get the price) was run by a mere boy who enjoyed playing online games more than doing his job. The room was ok, but it had its own computer with working facebook, so that made it all worthwhile.
Hanoi, or at least the middle is quite small. We saw most of the sites in a day, stopping by the Temple of Literature, a small lake in the old town, and some other random things along the way. We mostly people watched. It's a lovely city, much like Saigon, very green. In some ways it seemed like a giant small city, lacking skyscrapers and the soullessness of other big cities.
The highlight of our first day was a performance of the National Water Puppet Theater, an ancient art form done traditionally with floating puppets on the rice paddies, depicting scenes of rural life and old fables. We had to settle for a theater instead of paddies, but it was still wonderful. The puppets were run with many complex hidden mechanisms. I read that the secrets of the puppets were passed down through the generations and always to men (women could marry and potentially tell the secrets to their husbands of the other family). The troupe we saw did have a few women, so this tradition must be dead. The best part was the music, played by a talented traditional orchestra.
Our hotel flooded that night from the rain, so we moved to a new, less nice interior room. We had to pick our new room ourselves since the boy was still to busy with his games to point us to a new one.
We took it easy in the morning, then strolled through the old city a bit. Every street is named after the craft practiced by the storekeepers, so there's a hat street, a bamboo rod street, a wood bowl street, a toilet seat street. These days though, they should all be renamed to tourist shit street. Our main goal, however, was to hunt down some dog meat.
Lonely Planet mentioned some restaurants North of the city, by the West Lake, so we made an afternoon of it, getting lost in the suburbs north of town. Though it was nicer along the lake, the dog restaurants were just off the highway. Finally we saw a sign for dog meat and stopped.
The place we stopped was almost like a warehouse loft. In the states, it would be hip, eating on the ground of an abandoned factory, sipping imported Vietnamese beer and chowing on dog sausages with the soundtrack of barking dogs in the distance; in this real setting though in Vietnam, it was a little unsettling. We were given three varieties of dog, slices of roast, some sausage, and some fried, coated meat. It all came with a crispy sesame, rice cake. Dog meat is ok; it didn't taste remarkable in any way, just generic protein. I know I won't be looking at Zeke as a tail-wagging snack, but at least I know that if I find myself in a Jack London short story, I at least have some options. Sorry White Fang.
For our last day, we visited the national art gallery, which was ok. Nineteenth century sculpture is quite incredible. the subject is mostly religious, depicting pilgrims, but the stylized facial expressions, like three dimensional representations of Van Gogh's Potato eaters were quite powerful. The paintings largely derivative of European styles from 50 years before. Some of the war era works were good, primarily the horrific ones. I didn't care for the propagandist works with smiling soldiers helping the villagers pull buffalo out of the muck and other such heartless drivel.
On the way back, we stopped by the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh, which was a sort of communist neo-classical style if you can imagine that. Much like other communist leaders, the people are allowed to view the embalmed body, despite his wished to be simply cremated. The viewings were closed that afternoon; I'm not sure if I was disappointed or not.
Michelle had her flight back home the next morning, so we stopped for a nice meal at Highway 4, specializing in Northwestern Vietnamese cuisine and some high quality rice and fruit spirits, where were quite fantastic. We ordered stir-fried water buffalo and some fantastic roast duck served on a bed of crispy, deep-fried herbs. Asia keeps introducing me to such novel, yet delicious cooking styles. Partway through our add-on dish of deep-fried, breaded chicken tossed in a passion fruit sauce, Michelle got a call with tragic news from home, quickly bringing our evening to a halt.
We stayed up for too late, packing , talking and just doing our best to enjoy the short time we had left with eachother. I wasn't looking forward to the next morning. Michelle and I have basically been spending every moment together for about two months and we'd been a couple for four months already. I fearing traveling alone again. Except for the two weeks in North Thailand, I'd had steady company for the last six months. I wouldn't be alond for too long though. In three weeks I would be visiting Fai and Eddie in Hong Kong, followed by a visit to Ray in Taiwan. After that, I was joining Michelle again in Norway for a couple weeks before we each start our lives again, apart.
Halong Bay
Halong Bay is the one essential stop for all who venture to Vietnam. Karst mountains can make anyone drool, but with thousands, stretching for thirty miles along the coast, rising right out of the sea will make anyone...I don't really know of want to imagine the verb for an excess of drooling, but let's say it leaves travelers rabid, for more reasons than just the scenery.
I can't say as I was a fan of the four hour bus ride from Nihm Binh, through endless urban sprawl and dynamited mountains and coal plants. There is money in these peaks for sure, but I'd rather that come from tourism. Though they checked our ticket and saw our destination, the bus still drove past our destination. Thankfully, I caught this immediately, so it was only a five dollar cab ride back to where we meant to go.
The tourist ferry at Halong City was a zoo of people, tourist and touts alike. We brushed by them all and headed straight to the official tourist information building. A man stopped us inside, trying to sell us an expensive tour that did not take us our intended destination, Cat Ba Town, but we ignored him and tried to find someone official. I thought we did, he had lots of information, spoke English and offered us the same tour as the first man, but for only 100,000 dong, over half the price. We told him we wanted to go to Cat Ba Town and he sold us a differnet, five-hour tour through the bay, arriving in Cat Ba Town for 230,000 dong. We met up with a Swiss guy doing the same tour.
We stood on the dock for nearly an hour, finally leaving at 2PM. A five-hour tour would take us to Cat Ba Town around dark. About 20 minutes out to the sea, a man from the boat asked us how we intended to reach Cat Ba Town. "Well," I replied, "I was planning on taking this boat there since we paid extra to be taken there."
He then explained that the boat did not go to Cat Ba Town, but a port 40km away, meaning we were sold the 100,000 dong tour for double price. I argued, but he claimed ignorance, saying, "Somebody must have cheated you." But who? Nobody seemed to know this phantom ticket seller that has been doing business with the boat company. Nobody seemed concerned that they were doing business with a man who ripped off at least four of their customers, making them extremely unhappy with the company just that very day. Nor did they seem concerned that we were being dropped off at some outlying port on a giant jungle island, nor offered us any advice on how to get to some accommodation. And they most definitely did not offer us a refund for the extra money we paid to be taken to town. I threatened to talk to the police, but they weren't too concerned about that either. I'm sure this is a long-standing conspiracy. They even went out of their way to make fun of me, thus stirring me to make a personal crusade against this fraudulent boat company. Let's just say that the Vietnamese Board of Tourism, Lonely Planet, and some online forums will have some angry comments. Yes, it is only five dollars, but it's about the principle, the lying, not the money. I can be overcharged. I can be underwhelmed, but I will not be lied to. So, never do business with Canh Buom Halong tours. Also Pearl Tours as well. One employee from that company told me I was mistaken and our boat did go to Cat Ba Town, before condescendingly and intimidatingly slapped the back of my head before saying, "you're very intelligent."
Let's just say I didn't really enjoy my two and half hour tour much, with an hour and a half of that time docked at tourist attractions I had no interest to see. This is not to say anything bad about the bay itself, which was incredible.
Before I left, I got the captain to scribble the name of the man who fraudulently sold us tickets for the police report they knew I'd never file. Not that I could do much about the scribble anyway. The name was either Ley or Lem or Leu or Lacy or Lucy or Leey or Leej or Licy, you get the gist. We attempted to join the boat's bus to town for a little extra, but they essentially told us the shove it. Michelle, the swiss guy and I then attempted to find a way to town. The motorbikes were insanely priced and not a good option with our luggage. No taxis existed, but we found a local bus. They quoted us 100,000 dong, which was insane for the distance and we eventually talked them down to 70,000 each. Others on the bus did however pay the full 100k. The ticket lady tore off the tickets, but never showed them to us. A crumbled ticket on the floor showed the fare was 15,000. We attempted an uprising, but when they got angry and all but threatened to strand us in the jungle, we complied. I hadn't really been ripped off since Delhi, five months earlier and to have it happen twice in a day was bit much.
Cat Ba town was tourist taint, armpit, asshole, essentially any unattractive, stinky, undesirable part of the body. The room we bought however was lovely, spacious, clean, with air-con a comfortable bed and a balcony overlooking the bay for only $10 a night! We could, however, only book two nights since the entire town would book out on Friday. Michelle slept in quite late, so we decided to rent a motorbike, which we rode all over the gorgeous jungle-karst island, exploring hidden bays and hugging the turns on narrow cliff-side roads. it was a great retreat from the insanity of the one-street resort city.
Food was pricey, though crabs were cheap, so I had my fill of them for the two days I spent there. One night, we hit up a bustling karaoke bar where I attempted to sing a song. The lady assured me there were English songs, but there was no list; she just told me to write down a song. I did, but they never called me to sing. After an hour of hearing the Vietnamese serenade us with sappy, sad, bitter songs about the horrors of war with America, we left.
Day two was going to be our kayaking day, but the sea was rough and the sky threatened rain for the whole day. We hit up the beach instead. Michelle was glued to the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and I body-surfed and fought waves for the whole afternoon. I was even invited by some Vietnamese men to play soccer. I stuck to defense to not betray my complete lack of skill.
We left that afternoon for Hanoi. I was sad to have not gone out in the bay with a kayak. In fact, I saw precious little of the natural wonder, which was unfortunate, but that tiny glimpse, outside of the crowds, the fraud, and the prices made it all worthwhile.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Nihm Binh
There are few places worse to sleep than on a bus seat. it is impossible to get comfortable, there is hardly enough leg room, reclining impossible. One thing that is worse though is sleeping on a Vietnamese sleeper bus. Essentially there are a series of reclining seats, with a small wedged compartment for the feet, which makes the top half of the seat in front of you. Clever design, but actually worse than a seat, since it kills the vertical plane. They are too short for westerners and when you have a day pack, there is absolutely no room for feet at all. We traveled in one of these overpriced models of pseudo-comfort for twelve hours from Hue to Nimh Binh. I did manage to get some poor sleep,; it was much better when I discovered the doors at the sides of wedge so I could stick my feet out and wiggle my toes.
We arrived in Nimh Binh at 5am then immediately found a hotel for a nap. The city is not too pleasant: dusty, crowded and lined with unnecessary flashing lights. Thankfully we didn't come for the city; it was the range of limestone mountains just outside we came to see.
We rented a motorbike and rode to Tam Loc, a cave down a river that flows through the towering karsts. It was powerful scenery. Rice fields filled the river as we floated along by a rowboat that our driver rowed with his feet. The trip went a mile or so through two caves, past little temples, dwarfed by the mountains. At the end of the line, we met a wall of floating souvenieer pedlers, hounding us to buy useless stuff at prices twice that of the markets. "Drink?!"
"Sorry, we have."
"Drink for driver?"
"Sorry, they have water."
Thankfully, they realized quickly we weren't going to buy anything. I took a paddle from the old woman for the return trip, but instead of resting, she kicked her son from the other oars and kept rowing. They were friendly and fun; we didn't even care that they tried to sell us their embroidered t-shirts for most of the way back. It was a ridiculously hot and humid Vietnamese (I guess that is a bit redundant) day and since I did much paddling myself, I knew it was hard work. A tip was definitely in order, until they stopped paddling and asked if we were going to tip. We still planned tip after this, but the amount suddenly became significantly less. Their tip got decreased even more when they told us how much to tip them. The amount asked was what we originally planned to pay them, but their hounding us about it lowered the total to half of that amount. I then told them why as well. Principals you see.
I drove us to a nearby mountain that we saw from the boat and climbed to the top for some jaw dropping views. From there, we rode North quite a bit, along a bumping dirt road, giving me some new skills on the bike. Driving through town during rush hour taught me even more skills, the most important, how to avoid cardiac arrest during left turns.
The real highlight was our dinner that night, the best dish I had in Vietnam. Nihm Bihn is famous for it's goat meat, one of my favorites. We found a small place during a downpour and ordered a dish. It said "rare goat meat", but what were given was raw meat, tossed in spices and nuts, served with rice papers, pineapples and a divine sauce. Michelle and I basically melted in our chairs. I never imagined raw meat could be so orgasmic.
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