新竹站到了

Well time keeps on slippin’ while I stay right here. It’s been a month since updates, and why you ask? First of all, the daily grind is quite pedestrian. I get up, do nothing significant, go to work, come back and do more nothing, then sleep. Second the weekends can be quite fun, but then when there’s something to write about, I either don’t have the time, or have the time but want to spend it doing something that isn’t so laborious.

I’m going to cover a whole lot as quick as I can so stay with me. New Year’s has been discussed, then the next week was my birthday. I’m still the youngest at my branch, hooray! My actual birthday wasn’t on a weekend, so instead we waited until Saturday to go out. First people gathered at our apartment for just a few drinks, then off to local American restaurant #1, Squares. I had a quite nice burger there though I have since found better. After that, we went to a (pretty crappy) nightclub called Goethburg. It has really tacky décor and a subpar sound system, with a meh DJ. I didn’t really mind however; since clubs in general aren’t my thing I spent the vast majority of my time playing foosball outside the main bar area. I already won a couple games during training and I fancy myself pretty good, so I challenged my friends first and then some strangers. I won more than I lost but still came out with a disappointing record around ~.667 but I guess that’s what happens when you’re out of practice. After everyone else got tired of the club we called it a night.

This party pretty much just consisted of people in my extended network of work friends. We got a new roommate that Friday however and she joined us too. Hailing from New York, there are now 3 of us in the apartment, making rent much lower but also just adding another person to talk to, so really everyone is a winner in the arrangement. In an example of mind-numbing bureaucracy, she needed an original lease in order to apply for the Alien Resident Card, not a copy. Sounds normal, right? Well, her name isn’t anywhere on it. In fact there’s nothing to indicate she didn’t steal it or outright invent some fictional property, but the office needs a piece of paper and the gears of government must turn.

The weekend after amounted to nothing much. During the week I went to a meeting about teaching at an elementary school. This is a unique program to this elementary school, apparently because some rich sponsor went there decades ago and now wants to fund English classes for the whole school or something, complete with real live foreigners. It will add an extra 4 hours a week to my pay so that will be nice, and will also serve to get me up in the morning instead of being so lazy.

On the 22^nd/23^rd, my roommates went to Taipei to see LMFAO do a show at a high-end club called Luxy. Since I was not as enthralled with this group, I went to Taichung. Met up with Yvonne, went to a housewarming party, went to another club, and watched a bunch of movies. One of them was Deliverance which is a mightily messed up movie, but truly excellent in every way. I came back Sunday night and graded a bunch of homework.

A week after that, it was almost Chinese New Year. Chinese New Year is the only extended vacation time I get. There are a couple random national holidays we get off, but CNY is 6 days, Feb 2-7. Before that though, was the weekend then a couple days. The work was easy; the weekend was a little more eventful. Yvonne came up, and on Saturday we two and my roommates went for hot pot with about a dozen friends. That went well, then the guys split up and we went to a bar while the girls went to a club. We talked, they danced, and both got back late. To make a long story short, Yvonne and I had something of a falling out. She left on Sunday, for good.

Having a two-day workweek was nice, getting paid early was nicer, and actual CNY was the nicest. At first it was weird; every non-chain shop was abandoned all day for several days. Tuesday was the last day of work, Wednesday was CNY eve which we spent in Hsinchu lighting off bottle rockets (I’m sort of a pro at lighting 4 at a time, arcing, and the simultaneous cross-direction light) on top of our building’s roof. Thursday we went to Taipei, dropped our stuff at the Happy Family Hostel, got food and then waited for a training friend to come up from Taichung. Did that hostel sound familiar? Before you go looking, yes it was the one I stayed at prior to training and yes, I remembered the way back perfectly without having to wander aimlessly for kilometers.

We retrieved our friend at the train station, dropped off his stuff, and made our way to the zoo. It was actually quite cool. We only got there at 2:30 or so but spent all 2.5 hours we could there until it closed and still didn’t see it all. The highlights were the huge nocturnal house which was the largest I’ve ever been in by far and of course the giant pandas. They are named Tuantuan and Yuanyuan which if put together i.e. tuanyuan or 團圓 as it would be written in characters, means “reunion.” It’s the same word used for what families do during Chinese New Year when they all gather together back at their parents’ home. Why name a pair of pandas after something so silly? Do you name your dogs Thanks and Giving?

The pandas, like every giant panda everywhere in the world, are actually on a loan from China. And seeing as how “reunification” is a top priority for the glorious people’s republic across the strait, the names were chosen with obvious intent. Still, the pandas draw huge crowds and at least when you’re at the zoo, nobody seems to mind what the cute and fuzzy bamboo-munchers are called. Random side note: one of the bathrooms at the zoo was covered in fecal matter. Paintings, photos, and diagrams of how they harvest poop and what it’s used for adorn the outside of this bathroom. I didn’t use it and see the inside, though now I’m wishing I had.

The zoo closing, we took the MRT back downtown. After changing we went to the Brass Monkey, the most popular foreigner bar in Taipei. It’s really nothing that special and the beer is overpriced, but they had Eric’s favorite, foosball. I played against the friends I was with and for the most part crushed them. Then I played the locals, who were another beast entirely. As I said I think I’m pretty good at the game. I always did well in Thanksgiving tournaments. I played against an Italian and a local, and the games were razor-thin. Both I had to come back from; one I won 10-9 after being down 3-6, the other I won 5-4 after being down 1-3. Yet despite those wins, I don’t honestly think I was the superior player. I got the lucky bounces and amazing saves I needed. Still, it was a rush just to play. Then I ran into Tom.

Tom is an ace. He’s could be a better hustler than Terrence Howard. He had every facet of the game refined to diamantine perfection. The through passes from defense, quick goalie moves, and best of all, the quick-strike offense were all a clinic. He knew how to place the ball absolutely perfectly, and most impressively, he was just so fast. I knew what was happening. By the time it was 1-3 (my determination not to get skunked paid off) I already knew the drill, but I was helpless against the next two goals. He placed the ball so immaculately I couldn’t help but stand amused. After such a shellacking I walked off head held high, albeit in defeat.

From the Brass Monkey we went to Room 18, yet another club. After paying for cover and a drink, I opened my red envelope to discover three casino chips. They had a blackjack table as part of their CNY festivities. I played pretty close to optimum play, or at least as close as I could for having three drinks in me, no recollection of the blackjack card, and a burning desire to win. I didn’t do anything super stupid like splitting tens, and tried to hold off when the dealer had a low up-card. It didn’t help, and I never got higher than 5 chips before busting out. I honestly didn’t ever care however, since I still have no clue what the chips were even good for. All I know is they didn’t exchange them for drinks, so how useful could they be?

Three hours burned away pretty quickly at Room 18. Before long we were outside and on the way to Family Mart. Why pay a 5-10x premium in a club when there’s a perfectly good convenience store nearby? Around 3:30AM someone had the idea we should get bagels. I wasn’t about to disagree so I got in the cab. We got out at a KTV parlor. In the middle of the trip, I overheard a phone conversation that they were closed. I don’t know why this then meant we had to go to a KTV place, but 6 of us did anyway, and we stayed until past 7:00 AM. Truly, this was not my idea. It was made even more difficult by the fact that there were 3 Taiwanese, 3 foreigners, and one of the foreigners simply didn’t sing; he took the mic, danced, but made no audible sound. Now I swear to you I like KTV when of a sufficient BAC, but even this was a bit much for me. Thankfully as my voice died and the night turned to morning more and more Chinese songs were added to the playlist. I wasn’t complaining.

We exited KTV and immediately noticed Taipei was saturated by the glow of natural vitamin D. Not having slept yet, this was quite odd. My roommate and I flagged a taxi (new roommate and friend had retired at various points already) and shuffled over to our hostel rooms. Three and a half hours later, there was a knock on the door saying we had to get out. We did, moseyed over to the train station across the street, and bought our tickets. My heart sank as the ticket lady informed us “沒有位子。” No seats. Well damn, normally I can take a standing ride with the best of them, but I was not feeling at the top of my game. No one was. We boarded the train with dread in our eyes. Thankfully, Taipei was the first stop for this train. We got on and commandeered some still-empty seats, dreading the time they would be claimed by their rightful owners.

Miraculously, it never happened. I don’t know how no one badgered us, but all four of us rode on in tranquility to Hsinchu. It might be because we were foreign. Or maybe the people who had our seats took other seats and were never evicted themselves – I certainly noticed people checking tickets and looking at us. Whatever it was, it was heavenly. Ninety minutes later the loudspeaker announced some of the most comforting words ever: “新竹站到了。” or “We have arrived at Hsinchu Station.” We left, ate, and slept.

This was not the end of CNY, indeed it was only the beginning. The rest was less frenetic though, and while we went to a club in Hsinchu for a psy-trance party another friend had been dying to go to, everyone was very chill and it wasn’t a comparatively late night.

That’s where I stand. Short week this week since we started on Tuesday, but otherwise back to normalcy. I’ll try to get back to weekly updates, or at least every two weeks since I know these long posts are a lot to digest. But really if you think it takes a long time to read, remember how much longer the creation process is. I know pretty pictures break up the monotony and I do have a few pictures to upload, but I can’t be bothered to do that at 2:30AM. I’ll get some of my scooter up too at some point.

PS The scooter tow story is unremarkable, I just got the borrowed scooter towed then had to get a coworker to help me find it and pay the fine. Nothing special there other than my advice to not park in the handicap spot in front of the train station. Not a good idea, even if it did work once before.

下次！

It’s My Way or the Taipei

Most compliments I get here aren’t worth telling you about. You bust out anything more complex than ni hao and there’s instant cooing. Walk down the street and I know I’ll turn a few heads, no big deal. Sometimes though, I still get my socks blown off. And the place where I talk the most English to the most girls is English Corner. For some reason the students there are predominantly female. I don’t know the ratio of the university, but even when I’m not there, I’m walking in or out, it’s always girls. Guys tend to be outnumbered around 3:1 or maybe even 5:1 some days. In my presence some get extremely shy and will literally not say a word all session. Others are just emboldened, so a group conversation usually ends up me engaging about 3 people. I try to periodically ask the others questions at some point, but this never really does much. So last Wednesday I was doing my time, asking my questions. “What’s your favorite food? Do you watch the NBA?” etc… The conversation was hitting somewhat of a lull as my last answer petered out into nowhere and I tried to think of a simpler way to explain it in English. Out of the blue, one of the girls whom were actively engaged in conversation says “I like your fur.”

I was not wearing any fur.

I looked at her, searching for a meaning. Faced with such a strange statement I decided to go with the blunt businesslike approach and informed her that whatever she mean she said it wrong.

She leaned over the table and pointed at my arm, quite close. Her face was wracked with hesitation – Do I dare touch the golden-haired giant?

She didn’t, but the pointing was enough and at first I grinned then couldn’t suppress the laugh. The hesitation melted away, replaced by a sense of dread. She had no clue what she just said. A quick chat with her neighbor made everything clear, and she quickly buried her face in her arms. I blushed too, but when she summoned courage again to face the table she was redder than Rudolph’s nose. She giggled, the rest of the table laughed, and for the next whole minute no one really strung together a coherent series of words.

Finally, I broke it: “You mean my arm hair.”

“Yes! Yes I like it very much.”

And so ends that encounter with weird stuff I’ve been complimented on. During the same teaching session I was also asked what girls do in America when they like a boy. At first I thought she was asking about guys pursuing girls but nope. So I borrowed a translator and looked up ‘flirt.’ When everyone saw it the response seemed to pretty much be ‘Girls don’t do that in Taiwan. We’re too shy.’

Could have fooled me.

Last English corner tidbit: I have found a new frontrunner for best name. Although I have heard a random person on the internet claim to meet someone who chose the English name ‘Toaster’ my best so far, from last week, is Smilina. I had met Smiles before, and people whose name meant smile in Chinese, but Smilina, of the storied etymology ‘Smile + -ina,’ is the best I have personally met.

I’ve noted how chaotically the classes seem to go here. Projects meetings don’t happen, information about classes goes out minutes before you need to know, and other minor fiascoes. One odd thing is the requirements made of students; one of my professors wanted to invite us to lunch Saturday, and had this planned for three weeks. I can handle a little weekend time relating to a class, especially when there’s no grading pressure. The lunch was supposed to be this Saturday, and in class at 5pm on Friday, he dropped some news on us. For starters, his car only held four passengers, and there were supposed to be seven students plus him. He then solicited the entire class for bikes. A guy next to me raised his hand, and the professor instantly assigned me to borrow his bike and follow along. Where exactly we still didn’t know. Then I found out it was to his house which was ten minutes away. By car. Saturday came and went and I definitely didn’t go. For one the guy never gave me his bike (though I never asked). And then there was my lack of desire to comply with arbitrary impositions made with little regard for anyone else involved. And for closure, that group project I’d been mentioning did finally happen Wednesday. After the replacement professor lectured for the first two hours, we presented. Our group leader was first and he was formidable. Then the heart of the order totally let us down. They took the microphone, mumbled into it and read off straight from slides or printed material. Then one guy showed a video for his presentation. When he put it on I thought it looked pretty well done. It was actually pretty high quality stuff. Too high quality, as it turned out. My suspicions gathered quickly when graphics beyond Windows Movie Maker appeared. Then I realized everything in the first minute was spelled correctly. At last I saw the word ‘fiefdom’ and all doubts were shattered. Coming back to the group, he admitted to the theft straight-up and without shame.

All of this is moot.

I am now in Taipei, along with all of my stuff. I am in a hostel room that is almost 60 square feet. I have left the Great Asia State University permanently. I didn’t let on about this earlier since I was still going through paperwork and talking to my new employer, Hess. Hess is a large English-teaching chain in Taiwan, and yours truly will be a cram school teacher dealing with rugrats in one month’s time. Training starts Nov 15^th, there’s a medical checkup Nov 12^th, and I got here earlier because I didn’t see much of a point in hanging around. Why did I leave? First, I wasn’t learning enough Chinese. Every class was in English, and I was always the one people wanted to speak English with. The dorm + class situation left me without much communication with locals. Most importantly though, I just couldn’t stand class. Every minute was pulling teeth. Short of Chinese class, I don’t think I could stand any class right now. Much as I love history, I think there would be a similar negative reaction to a history master’s in America. Signing up for a 2-year MBA program was simply a huge mistake. So here I sit in Taipei, planning nothing but to while away some days with photography and exploring.

Most of my ending time at Asia U was spent with Mongolians, specifically Jackie, Golden, and Yahoo. And here they are!

This was taken Sunday night, and Monday morning I departed. At 7:10AM I just walked out of the building. The student on desk duty just looked at me and Yahoo (he helped me carry some stuff) and while clearly confused, said nothing. Being white lets you get away with a lot over here. I am understandably forgiven for any cultural faux pas I commit, and no one ever approaches me to ask something important. I’m inundated with poorly-pronounced ‘Hello’ on an hourly basis, but again, nothing substantive. So away I went from the dorm and didn’t look back. I said goodbye to Yahoo and gave him a handshake. Hopefully I’ll meet up with some of them over winter break. I walked down the road, foregoing the bus-of-uncertain-schedule, and also not wanting to be spotted by a professor or anyone I know.

So I trundled off away from campus. I was only going maybe half a mile, but it took forever. I was weighed down by every single item I brought from America, plus a lamp and blanket I purchased here. Backpack on both shoulders, messenger bag sashed across from left to right, pulling a massive suitcase with a bulging duffel bag on top, which every so often would tilt and flip over to be dragged on the ground. I was probably averaging a grand 2 mph. My goal was just to walk to a main thoroughfare where I could find a cab. Eventually I did, but not before I had to go right by an elementary school that was just starting its day. The students were all in their uniforms and thronged the sidewalk. When they approached a crosswalk a huge line formed. I wasn’t inclined to wait however and went from the smooth road that served as sidewalk to the adjacent gutter. It was very shallow, only a 1” difference, but also had holes every meter or so. I accelerated a little to better hop these pitfalls. With each one my angled suitcase emitted a satisfying click-clack but seemed to handle them otherwise well. Where the crosswalk started a true sidewalk began from the opposite direction, and after an unceremonious hoist of my stuff I was on to smoother sailing. During this whole time, precisely zero of the students in line looked at me. In fact on this whole minitrip, I received fewer stares than I did during a walk to class. I don’t know if it’s legendary student discipline or what, but it was a pleasant surprise. Finally I hit the T-intersection I had been gunning for and waited.

Forty-five minutes later, I had my cab. They were still quite sparse out there. I rode on to the HSR (High Speed Rail) station where I found the McDonald’s and plunked down. I took some pictures  of the station, then went on a macro spree with the foliage nearby.

 My flickr stream has all the ones that aren’t abysmal.

After that I watched some TV, read more Dune, and had another go at a Chinese newspaper. It’s still tough reading, but it’s also fun to see characters appear in real life that I have just been studying. Finally 2pm rolled around and I was able to board my sleek Japanese-engineered carriage of the future. Naturally in total foreigner fashion I got on the train at the exact wrong end, and had to stumble past 15 rows of seats with all my luggage, bumping into others on the way. After just an hour even including the 3 extra stops, we arrived at Taipei main station. And that’s when this odyssey really began.

I disembarked and looked both ways. East exits and West exits out of the platform. Fair enough, I read online from my hostel’s website to take the east one. So far, so good. Good in the sense I almost-but-didn’t-quite let my overburdened suitcase fall down the escalator and into a crowd while alighting. At the top of that escalator I was able to locate a map. Unfortunately, when I looked for the hostel online the night before, I found that for starters, Google Maps could not agree on where it was. To add to the pain, the official hostel website had the address only in English – not terribly helpful when asking directions – and to make matters worse, there are actually two of the very same hostel within the same city block. I know not why. So there I stood, pondering this map. It didn’t actually show where I was but rather different places I could exit to, so I knew neither where I was nor where to be going which is always  a recipe for success. My choices were the Y district, R district, or M district. After consulting my comparative maps and prophetic tea leaves, I went with Y. But then I was faced with another problem: the Y area had exits both north and south of a huge street, the kind you can only cross on an underpass. Ultimately I trusted my innate sense of direction and went the way I felt was north. It worked, at least that time. I wish my east-west worked that well. (Kidding, I know they’re linked.) I also wish the hostel had been mapped halfway decently.

I took one more escalator down and a final one up to get to the north side of Civic Boulevard. Finding the light of day at last, I stopped to take off the hoodie I was wearing for cargo-space purposes. Still carrying/dragging/force-pulling the nearly 100lbs of junk I slowly made my way in the totally wrong direction. I hit a large street, continued north, then decided I should go back the other way. Although correct, this proved to be a very, very bad move. I proceeded to get lost in crazy alleys and unmarked paved areas which could have been long driveways. I was tired, but not defeated, when suddenly I saw, Family Mart! The hostel said they were right next to a Family Mart! My heart leapt and pace quickened. Arrival! I got to the front of the store and started looking around intently. That’s when I descended into my own personal madness; I seemed to round every corner twice, but never see the same people. I thought I had mapped out lanes when a new one would spring up like a chasm sundered from hell. Where was I going? I had just made it back to the first Family Mart to buy a map. I was studying it intently. Without name or address in Chinese, asking around bore little fruit. Suddenly white Jesus approached.

“Need some help?” It was one of those non-American accents.

Approximation of walking path to hostel. Red is train station, blue is where the underpass spat me out, green is the hostel.

I acknowledged my utter inability to find this godforsaken place and he pointed me to the closest one, as he too seemed to realize there were several of this particular establishment. He had me head to the nearest big corner, turn right, then turn again at the next corner which would have a different Family Mart, and I should see it. Marvelous! I wanted to hug him but somehow felt it might not be acceptable. I was home free! I sort-of ran to the corner and turned right. I was on fire, and -*screeuncchhhh*.

Hmmm. That sounded suspiciously similar to plastic on brick, and there was sudden resistance to my suitcase moving forward I turned around and saw my duffel bag, being wider than the suitcase is, had clipped a slightly protruding wall where this new property started. I examined it to make sure there was no structural damage and decided this was as good as time as any to rearrange my messenger bag shoulder and suitcase hand. I had been facing the wall which gave way to a store window while doing this, but was rather preoccupied with looking down at the luggage situation. I turned toward the street and saw a woman give me a dirty look. Whatever, lady. I turned back to the sidewalk planning on finishing the last leg of my journey but the entire right side of my vision was bombarded by the store. A lingerie store, replete with pink panties, black bras, and whatever else they sell. And as far as this woman had seen, I was running, stopped abruptly as soon as the lingerie came within view, and turned to stare for a good half minute.

Hearts and minds, hearts and minds.

After feeling ashamed of something I didn’t even do, I found the hostel which can accurately be described in one word: janky. If you don’t know what that means, I suggest www.urbandictionary.com/janky definition #3. When you turn the light on in my room, it actually flickers several times like they do in movie interrogation scenes, and the wiring is entirely exposed. The climate control consists of one fan placed on my desk, which feels like it will break any second, and actually came with 3 unopened-yet-yellowing bars of Ivory soap. There’s no screen and I’ve kept the windows closed but I still have an unwelcome mosquito I’ve been trying to swat with my passport.

And that’s literally where I sit right now. A room not even 8’x8’, with clothes drying on my headboard, desk, luggage, doorknob, anywhere with a protrusion. Tomorrow I plan on exploring a little, then after that I might try to meet up with friends of friends that are also in Taipei. Other than moving into the training hotel on the 14^th there is very little set in stone.

It’s freedom, I can taste it, and I love it.

So long!

The Sound of Separating Skin and Flesh

Last weekend we made a voyage to Tai Shan, or Mount Tai. It is holiest of the 5 sacred Taoist mountains of China . Because the city of Tai’An is on the whole worthless, dirty, and generally unpleasant, it was decided we would not bother spending Friday night there. Instead on Friday night we watched the fifth Harry Potter movie, and then went to bed pretty early. Our train was for 7:21am which meant we wanted to leave the dorm at 6:15 just to be safe. After waking up at 5:00 and not being able to go back to bed, we eventually left the dorm and caught a taxi to the train station. At the beautiful new train station that a year ago only serviced the Tianjin-Beijing high-speed train, we waited for about half an hour and met up with some other Badgers going to Tai Shan who took an earlier taxi. I also drank two bottles of juice as I seemed to have come down with a late June cold which I am just now getting over. They called our train over the loudspeaker and we were off.

We found our seats. Unsurprisingly, they were occupied by people with standing tickets. Trains are the main way of transport in China, since flying, though cheaper than in America, is still really expensive. And for distances longer than a couple hundred kilometers, buses are not efficient in terms of fuel, labor, or bodies moved. For migrant workers therefore, the only way to really get from point A to point B is the train, and the cheapest ticket is the standing class. Some trains are high-class and only have hard sleepers (cots) or soft sleepers (luxury cots) and no standing space. Alas, this was not our train. When we took our seats, the people in them seemed a little miffed that these young, rich, white kids had the audacity to take the seats that they had claimed fair and square. I felt a twinge of guilt, but it’s not my fault that the purchasing power of my dollar is inflated because their government has created a sort of de facto peg to the American dollar and has artificially deflated its value in order to attract more exports. My guilt having been rationalized, we sat down. We had a row of 5 seats, 3 on one side of the train and 2 on the other. Across from us were 5 very 地道 (didao, authentic) Chinese people. One of them was an old man who had fought for the North Vietnamese against the Americans in the Vietnam War, and also fought the Russians in the Sino-Soviet border conflict. He had an awesome Mao pin on his shirt that I considered offering him 100 kuai for, but more rational people on the train pointed out this might be highly offensive. Another of our train buddies was a total slob. He ate peanuts out of his hand as one might expect a dog to do, lapping them up and munching on them, mouth totally open. He also had a thinly veiled antipathy toward America. In the course of our conversation he insulted my friend’s shoes, tried to make us guilty for being educated, told us our government was evil, and was miffed when informed that we actually buy our MP3 players in the US, not China, because we want them to last longer than a month. He quite accurately represented the China that has slowly been dying since Deng Xiaoping’s reforms; xenophobic, reactionary, jealous, small-minded, and jingoistic. Unfortunately, this is still common in the rural and poor parts of China, which is exactly where this man was from. His home province of Anhui is the 5th-poorest in China based on GDP per capita.

After the lectures and naps that went on and off for 4.5 hours, we arrived at Tai’An, the city at the base of Tai Shan. As I said before, it is not a great place to be. Some small cities in China have a certain charm based on an old city, or have been spruced up because of tourist traffic, or are in some other way redeemable. Tai’An is not. It is dirty. By the end of our 24-hour excursion, we were only half-jokingly referring to Tianjin as a cosmopolitan metropolis. We took a small lunch at a restaurant near the train station, then got cabs to the base of Tai Shan. And then we started climbing. I’ll let some pictures take over for now.






The climbing got harder and harder. Not only did fatigue grow, but it became ever and ever more vertical, and eventually it became a sheer wall of stairs. Thousands of stairs. We started out, and then midway through our faces turned red from the huffing and puffing. By the end, it was declared that I looked ghastly pale and very sick. When we got to the top, a tout immediately spotted us and took us to a hotel. We go the room for 400 kuai, which isn’t too bad when split five ways. Cheaper than I had expected to pay for lodging on top of a mountain. I passed out while waiting to shower and my lungs were threatening to collapse. The day after my chest felt weak and I coughed constantly. It was perfectly exhausting. We fell asleep by 8:00pm. We were plenty tired to do so, and we also wanted to get up in time to see the sun rise, which is supposed to be a big draw for Tai Shan.

We got up at 3:45am and left the hotel to venture out into the dark. The entire mountain was misted in, and visibility was perhaps 20 feet. As we started to follow a small crowd of Chinese people whom we figured knew the way to the observation point, we noticed they were wearing ponchos. Sure it was so foggy my camera flash was turning the haze into a mirror, but the forecast called for a 10% chance of showers, and the day before had looked okay. We poked fun at them and laughed.

And karma cackled back.

About a third of the way to the observation point, it started drizzling. Half a minute later, it was raining. Then the lightning came. Keep in mind, we are on top of a mountain. This was lightning that was simultaneously accompanied by thunder. For those not meteorologically inclined, this means the storm is not 10 miles away, not 1 mile away, it is right above you. And when you’re 1500 meters in the air, it’s not far above. We ran for cover, and there wasn’t much. We found an outcropping on the rock wall and hid under it. The rain refused to stop however, and a moat started forming, as if to box us in. And it kept growing, encroaching, swallowing my sandaled toes. I moved to higher ground, but it kept coming. Finally there was a slight lull in the rain. I took my chance, and we fled to the hotel. Cold, damp, and annoyed at the lack of sunrise, we just sat for a bit, regaining feeling in the extremities. We then checked out and headed for the gondola line – there was no way we were going to make it down a rain-slicked mountain with aching legs in time to make our 9:56am train back. We got to the gondola line at 5:30am, precisely when the hotel staff recommended. We were not only the first ones there, but no one else actually showed up until about 6:15. So we loitered. Finally, a man came out of the ticket booth hut (he slept there) and opened up the gate. A mass of humanity followed, but we had a gameplan and stuck to it. Three of us rushed to the roped line to secure first place and block it off from others, while 2 went to the ticket window. This plan was executed to perfection. After buying the tickets, the pair joined up with us and we got the first gondola off that rock. It was actually a really cool ride, it started with an eerie view of mist then below that we had a really good view of the landscape.



The gondola took us halfway down the mountain, and then we caught a bus for the other half. It was pretty incredible to see what we had climbed just yesterday, and took almost 5 hours to do so. When we got to the bottom there were plenty of taxis waiting to take tourists like ourselves to the train station. So we hopped in, and 10 kuai later were there. After a true breakfast of champions – Pepsi, soggy fries, and a spicy chicken sandwich – at a KFC imitator, we went to wait for the train. We had bought our return tickets when we arrived the day before, but on such short notice, there wasn’t exactly space. So we got standers.

The 无座 means “no seat” and the 学 is short for 学生, student. We were actually able to find a very convenient nook and sit 4 cramped people down at a time out of 7, so it wasn’t too bad. Not a pleasant experience, but when you’re paying $4.18 to go 600 kilometers, how can one possibly complain?

We got back at around 4:00pm and from there it was dinner then a pretty early 10:00 bedtime, this due mostly to the fact we had been up for your typical 18 hour day, and had been standing for a good chunk of it.

It was an odd weekend. I can’t really point to anything and say affirmatively “that was fun” except for maybe the gondola, but it was still enjoyable. And the weekend in Tianjin would have just involved basically sitting around anyway so I feel it’s good we at least did something.

This is our three-day weekend, and after the test and culture class on Thursday I am out of here to Qingdao. You may be more familiar with the postal-map spelling of Tsingtao, and yes it is the very same city of the beer. The Germans set up shop there when they colonized, and there are also supposed to be nice beaches, along with churches and some other cool stuff to see.

And that’s basically it. Three-day, then regular weekend, then 10-day to Guangxi. We’ve already been here more than a month, and when the 10-day starts I’ll be halfway through my 12 weeks here. (The program is 11 and I have a week at the end with a friend who is in China on a Northwestern University program.) The title of this post is lifted from the vocab list we got in class yesterday. It is about a butcher, and how good he is at his craft and how it sounds like music when he slices and dices a cow. It also felt appropriate given the difficulties involved with our Tai Shan trip.

下次

Inner Mongolia -or- Showering: Why Bother?

Blue skies!

As usual protocol for overnight train trips, we left late at night to sleep on the train and save lodging costs and arrive at a reasonable time and not 4am. In retrospect I would have preferred a plane. Being on a train for half the nights of a vacation kind of sucks. For anyone bemoaning the death of the railroad industry in the US, shut up until you can tell me you actually enjoy taking the train from Chicago to New York, and on a regular basis too. Once a year isn't enough. It's a 20 hour ride and you're in what basically amounts to an airline business-class seat. For a bed you have to pay an extra $300 so you might as well just fly at that point. Point is, unless you're in a small to midsized country in Europe (okay every country there I guess) trains generally suck. Our train was delayed by an hour or so and we arrived at Hohhot around 10am. This is a small to midsized Chinese city of 2.5 million much like any other. Its got the dirty feel, only this one had fewer McDonalds' (on the return trip we looked for a place to eat before leaving but nothing convenient was nearby, no KFC either). Also, Mongolian writing adorns most businesses and in theory is required for any establishment open to the public.

We got in a van and headed to a yurt camp. The yurt camps were quite honestly a little disappointing. All of the ones I saw were clearly tourist traps and the actual yurts themselves were nothing special, basically a large and circular box tent like at a summer camp. When our van pulled up and we got out, they greeted us with shots of baijiu (白酒) that was the most foul liquor I have ever tasted. Far worse than the beef cough syrup. Worse than Skol vodka. This was liquid fire in your throat, and it truly did make you feel warm for many minutes afterward, as long as you could still feel nerve endings.

After the shot and a lunch that was decidedly untasty and unfilling that involved some very un-tender lamb, chicken stomachs, and more bad-tasting vegetables we went for a horse ride. It was 200 kuai for a couple hours so very expensive. In front of the horse paddock there was a genuine Mongolian man wearing a not-so-genuine Dolce & Gabbana hat: (click for big)

I don't think he even realized I was taking a picture of him.

The horse ride was rough. First off, I was wearing shorts as I tend to do in any month not named Decemember or January. The amount of chafing my calves endured was nigh unbearable until I nerded up and stretched my socks way up. And in more evidence that this country was not built with whitey in mind, my feet did not fit into the stirrups. The shoes were just too wide. So I jammed them in as best I could and just hoped nothing bad would happen. This worked out surprisingly well. I have not ridden a horse in at least a few years. The amount of times I have ridden a horse at any appreciable speed can probably be counted on one hand. I am not experienced by any stretch of the imagination. My horse was apparently obedient (乖) enough to not be required to be tied to our guide's horse while Shino's and our other co-tourist's were. Due to the aforementioned shoe problem, sitting up in the saddle was a very dodgy prospect. I tried as best I could, but for too long I simply sat my ass down while it slowly got grated like a very fine parmesan. Perhaps you didn't want to know that , but I didn't particularly enjoy it so be glad you're a degree removed from the experience. It started raining in the middle of our ride so we got off to stop into the yurt-home of a woman who lived out in the grasslands. She made her living selling tourists like us soy milk, milk balls, and other little snack items. After the cessation of precipitation we resumed our hard ride and returned to camp. On the way my horse, untethered, decided to chill with his friends as we passed by a rival yurt camp's horse party. I felt and looked like an idiot for not being able to control my horse.

Upon return we spotted a little white goat just chilling and munching on grass. His owner eventually came by and she let me hold him. I probably have fleas now that are just incubating and waiting for a chance to get to America. Also, half a dozen middle-aged Chinese men asked to have their picture taken with me. This would happen again too. We later had a dinner that was as disappointing as lunch (and just as throatburning) and then returned to the yurt. Our tentmates were playing a game similar to Presidents, Asshole, or whatever regional appellation you want to give it. I couldn't figure out some of the more subtle rules so I opted not to play. We were then invited to witness a prepackaged and touristy version of Naadam festivities. We saw a simple horse race and some Mongolian wrestling. After the wrestling they asked for volunteers from the audience. I did have an inkling of a desire to go wrestle a Mongolian and get laughed at by both him and the Chinese tourists as I got my ass handed to me. Unfortunately by the time I worked up the testicular fortitude to have my "I'm Spartacus" moment the offer was apparently dead as the wrestlers and their special vests had disappeared.

After a nap on my part, it came time for the touristy Mongolian tribal performance. I don't know what was going on precisely, but I assume it had something to do with Mongolians and a desperate attempt to preserve culture while at the same time packaging it into Disney-like authenticity. Regardless of reasons or implications, some Mongolians dressed up in traditional costumes and did some skits and dances about God knows what. It then degenerated into open-mic night. There was a jam session by our hosts. The dean of the local police academy whom had earlier arrived in a motorcade of black sedans led by a cop car got up and started rambling, visibly intoxicated. A little girl got up and made a speech about the Olympics and how proud she was of China and how she hoped everyone could come together etc... In the middle of a speech by one of the Mongolian guys who actually worked there, a random (and drunk) guy got up on stage with him and started talking and singing. He also handed the Mongolian a Qingdao beer. Then a couple probably in their 30s got up and sang a song "甜蜜蜜" that is basically one of the most popular love songs in the country. Upon hearing it here I realized it was also one of the Chinese songs one of my teachers sang at KTV a few weeks ago. There was also a miniature fireworks show being set off ridiculously close, only a few meters from yurts and well within a couple hundred of the crowd watching the stage.

I experimented with a few long-exposure shots of the moon through cloud cover, I went to sleep. After all we had to get up early the next morning (This is a theme basically for my entire time in China it seems, even when it is on weekends.) to get back in our van, leave the yurts, and head to the start of the Gobi. That day was the first day I wore pants this entire summer. I also wore my long-sleeved zip-up to the desert. The sun was apparently too fierce that Shino, in loco parentis, threw a fit when I took off the jacket so I put it back on. It was surprsingly not sweltering though the sun was indeed fierce. At the edge of the Gobi we put on special cloth "boots" to prevent sand from getting in and took a gas-chugging jeep up a few dunes. We followed a "duck", the type used in the Wisconsin Dells, that was spewing black fumes--check the video "recdesertoffroad" to see this and also get an idea of how bumpy it was. I recorded it in black and white for that extra frontier feel. That's not exactly true, I can't even say I did it to save space; I just forgot that the video uses the manual settings and I had it last set to black and white. At the little outpost we rode camels

YEAS?

for half an hour, then took a toboggan ride down the dunes. Shino was supposed to take a movie of me but somehow managed to grab a half-second video of basically nothing. Despite how steep it was which you can see in the picture, the sand created plenty of resistance and it never picked up an incredible amount of speed. Our desert adventures over, we returned to Hohhot, went on a very boring tour of a traditional Mongolian clothing factory, and returned to the train station. In the entire relation of this story, I was never able to shower.
24 hours, 30 hours, whatever. As Kid Nation's very own Taylor put it: Deal with it! My next entry will be solely dedicated to Pizza Hut and maybe a quick rundown on the 4 train rides.