Intermezzo

OK. I don't get a huge kick out of writing my travelogues as 1. there is so much I feel obligated to put in, activity-wise, it take me a long time to organize and plan my attack, 2. I am not creative enough to think of a better way of attacking other than the straight narrative, which isn't too exciting to write continuously, 3. they usually get so long I cut out my trademark tangents, which I miss 4. some of these pictures from the recent trip, taken on other cameras than my own, seem to have the tendency to be obscenely huge and keep crashing Blogger's alloted memory space, and 4. I'm easily distracted.

I'll finish up the notes on the last great adventure around China (for now) I promise, but I'll be condensing the text and the ramble. Probably rely much more on pictures and straight reporting.

Finally, word of warning: more and more of my friends have warned me of the dangers of internet publicity. The latest tale has worried me enough that I will soon dawn a mask of anonymity for the site. That is to say, if you are a regular reader and wish to remain one, BOOKMARK THE SITE NOW!!! If you find the site at your leisure by a silly Google search, well, that option will disappear in the very near future. Likely within the week. You have been warned.

Now.

Lets all go to the lobby, lets all go to the lobby, lets all go to the lobby and get ourselves a snack!

Episode III: Die HangZhou, Die (German for "The HangZhou, The")

COMPLETED 4/28/06

Anyone who speaks German can't be evil. But what about Chinese?


Traveling by train can be a wonderful experience, especially when your parents are springing for the VIP cabin. The difference between the sleepers is that a standard cabin has 6 bunks, a VIP 4. The VIP has a door. The beds have more padding. And the travelers you'll find yourself sharing this limited space with are much more polite. I've got more thana fair share of stories from less-than-comfortable experiences on trains, but that'll be another post.

We woke up and pulled into HangZhou on that, my parents' fifth day in China. The night before I had booked a pair of hotel rooms via a brand new booking service. I've whined before about the lack of ability to reserve rooms, so this certainly came as a boon towards my sanity. Especially while breaking in some newbies to China. We still had some worries as we stepped off that train though, as we had no idea how we would get to Hong Kong a few days later. The train that everybody else told me existed didn't exist, so new options needed to be explored.

Before I chronicle any further you must know that HangZhou had been placed on our itinerary for many a reason. Just south of ShangHai, HangZhou stands as one of China's two most 'beautiful' cities, an honor shared with SuZhou ("The Garden City") which is right north of ShangHai. Furthermore, HangZhou sits towards the end of the waterways that transported goods around China during imperial times, leading to a large amount of commerce in the area. You'll find a wealthy supply of silks and a dirth of ceramics and other crafts were you to visit. Most of the town sits around West Lake, a serene body of water that holds a few island gardens, some floating shrines, and ringed by pagoda and temple.

But more than anything else we were going to HangZhou because I had been there before, back during my 1997 trip. Back in that day, HangZhou had been our second stop, right after ShangHai, and it had been little more than a quaint little lake town with a handful of sleepy stores and good deals on silk. We visited a silk factory, a ceramic museum/workshop, a temple, a pagoda, toured the lake on small boats. All in all, very quaint, very quiet, very relaxing.

HangZhou has changed. A lot. Not in any sort of bad way though, in fact, if I can give a testament to the development potential of China, I'd probably use HangZhou. The lake, still quite peaceful, is now lined with bistos, experimental cookeries, high end shopping, funky bars, and an all-around hip vibe. The serene nature of the region hasn't disappeared, they've just BAM! kicked it up a notch. I had hope to give my parent's a flavor of 'real' China, that is the China that isn't all spruced up for tourists,, the China that makes up the large majority of the nation, but, well, who cares. HangZhou is beautiful.

Our hotel (which I don't think was there in 1997) cost only a fraction more per room than our BeiJing lodgings, but could have been the poshest hotel rooms I've ever stayed in. Certainly top 2. Settling in took a while because I wanted to spoil myself with each comfort that had been void ini my life over the previous year. When I finally got pried from luxury, I hit up the front desk to figure out travel arrangements to Hong Kong. Plane tickets were purchased, my Chinese was complimented over and over (yes!), and we hit the streets of HangZhou.

In BeiJing we (we being me) had been successful in staving off shopping excursions till the end of the available time, but in HangZhou we tried to get it out of the way first thing. Not too far from our hotel they've just about finished constructing a little silk commodity village in old-timey architectural style. You've got to bargain, as you do almost anywhere, but the deals will beat anything anywhere else. Plus I found a much higher quality of item, and a larger selection, than I ever found in BeiJing. At least in regards to silk. By the end of the morning I was silk-blind having examined countless scarves. I saw some ties I liked, but they had nothing but the display models, which were stained, so I saved my money for later (I eventually scored some ties).

Next up we headed out west from West Lake to LingYin Temple (pardon if I mucked up the name). I had visited this site in '97 and I'm glad I got back. One of the larger temples I've seen, and secluded away from the city in the woods, the outside is ringed with grottoes holding stone carvings of Buddha and all his pals. Inside the temple there are at leaast four large halls strung up the middle, each with gigantic statues of Buddhas and other various gods. The size is amazing alone, but the isn't to say they are delicate nor beautiful as well. You're not allowed to take pictures inside the halls, and I lack the talent to accurately describe what yo'd witness there, so either use your imagination or go yourself. You'll be happy you did.

A new treat at LingYin was the Hall of Arhats which I don't remember from '97 (we were rushed through during that trip, probably not afforded the time to check this out). In a structure to the left of the central walk we found a cross-shaped call holding 500 unique statues, each depicting a different disciple of Buddha. If you've been reading the blog for a while, you might recall these dudes catching my fascination at the Bamboo Temple in KunMing, and sure enough, they succeeded once more in HangZhou. The blend of the surreal with such realistic sculpting defines 'cool' to this adventurer, and again, I wish I could have taken pictures. Alas.

[INTERMISSION: I'll finish the HangZhou entry later, I need to stretch my legs now and get away from the computer. Hang tight.]

The next few days around HangZhou were filled with relaxed wonder. As I mentioned, the lake area has only gotten hip as all hell, and we took a small boat cruise around to take in the island gardens, the "three pools mirroring the moon," and a few water pagodas that are the most famous of their kind in China. Why, I am not sure, but I have seen other structures of similar build in other locations but no one gave a crap about those. Here, in HangZhou, everyone was gaga for the dealies.

After taking in the lake from the boat, we stolled around the better part of it stopping at a few points of interest. Most notably was the tomb of some dude (its been too long and I don't have my notes in front of me so i apologize for the lack of clarity in Mr. Somedude's proper name) which, by this point, was not interesting in the least. For me. After 1+ years of seeing similar sights of greater magnificance. But it was hystrerical knocking on the big holy statue only to come close to tipping it over because all it was was cheap, hollow plastic. Not bronze. Oh, crazy.

Our last big stop in HangZhou during our last full day there was the Six Wind Pagoda. This was another case of deja vu, as I had visited here back in 1997. This time, though, having all the free time to explore as I wished, I once again found many a thing that captivated me more than the whirlwind tour gave me years back. Most notably, really, only, as there was nothing else I hadn't seen, the Pagoda Garden. What they did here was re-construct, on a much smaller scaller, the 108 (I think) most famous Chinese pagodas. Cool, as I bounded from one to another searching for those I had seen in actuality with my own two eyes. In all, the garden acted like a crib sheet for my own adventures, just in pagoda form.

Eventually we were to leave HangZhou, hopping a plane to Hong Kong. I was not prepared.

Episode II: The Wrath of Mahm

Leaving ShenYang gave a great feeling, for not did it mark the true beginning of an independent journey (I could rely on my Chinese friend in ShenYang, but from here on out only my own ability would keep me going), not only would it bring reunion with the loving parental units, but it was departure from the frigid cold of El DongBei! (Spanish/Chinese for "The DongBei [Northeast])

So another train ride, this one marked by a friendly seatmate informing me of the atrocities the Japanese had ravaged upon his Chinese countrymen in WW2, aka The War Against the Japanese. Hours later, I was once again in BeiJing, soon checked in to a cool boutique hotel behind the Forbidden City, and before sleep came feasting on meats and treats on sticks.

They arrived the next day. Spending the morning wandering around, searching for some good travel reading more than anything else, I eventually got to the airport to greet the Venerable Honkeys that are Bill Sr. & Mary Alice ("Mahm," get it? Phoenetics!). Hugs and handshakes exchanged, gasps over lost weight gasped, and all other pleasantries aside; it didn't take long for the culture shock to set in. "Oh my gods" and "Why do theys" and "I can't understands" began as soon as the cab ride set out from the airport. I was proud of my parents and looking forward to an educational and eye-opening experience over the next ten or so days.

Now, BeiJing is BeiJing and I've spent more time there than I have in New York City, but as I was guiding some noobs around we hit the required spots. That first evening we played it easy, strolling up and down WangFuJing and dining at QuanJuDe Roast Peking Duck Palace. Day 2 started a little rough: turns out some major credit card companies hold minor caveats with their issuing banks that might make your account unaccessable in Mainland China. On top of that, turns out some major credit card companies like to assign you passwords for your credit card without telling you making it difficult to obtain a cash advance from an ATM. Luckily, as an experienced China traveler, I was able to fix this problem (took longer than it should, however, though we were exhausting each possible solution down the ladder in order of ease and logic) and we struck out for the Summer Palace. No commentary necessary on that. Afterwards we had planned on visiting the Forbidden City but couldn't (more in a second) so we hit the Temple of Heaven and concluded with the Pearl Market.

First, about the Forbidden City: turns out the National People's Congress was in session while we in BeiJing. This is the once-every five years meeting of representatives from all over the Middle Kingdom, and as it draws a good bit of media attention the city was swept clean of dirt and beggars. I was a bit disappointed, as this kept my parents from seeing the "real" BeiJing, also because they were randomly (as far as I knew) closing certain points of interest so the delegates might tour unhindered. For their convenience the Forbidden City was closing early every day that week, so we had to delay our own visit from that afternoon to our final morning. No biggie.

Next, the Temple of Heaven: 2008 will be one of the biggest deals for modern China, that goes without saying. In preparation for the international focus and in effort to impress the world most eveything is being cleaned and renovated around BeiJing. I might have mentioned how during the summer, when I was visiting the week before the International olympics Committee, paddywagons cruised the streets of the capital rounding up beggars and undesirables, supposedly dumping them off a hundred miles outside the city walls. We weren't exiled, but we did find some of the places we visited would charge us admission then bar us from seeing the most interesting sections, as they were under repair. The Temple of Heaven stood as the best example of this inconvenience. Luckily its picture is all over BeiJing, so the loss was not too great.

Finally, the Pearl Market: I am not a shopper. My mother is. God bless her, she can sniff out a bargain from a strip mall's distance away. But this serves as one of those environment in life where two people will never comes to agreement. Across the Temple of Heaven you'll find a large emporium of crap, but the top floors have got heavily discounted pearls of all color and size. I knew we wouldn't escape a visit, but I hoped it'd be painless. In reality, our time there was not too bad, and certainly not the worst (that would be the Silk Market on of final day in BeiJing), but the combined strain of 1. shopping 2. translating between English and Chinese 3. translating between cultures 4. working out exchange rates and 5. being hungry truly tested everyone's patience. We'll leave it at that.

Whatever frustration reared during the shopping quickly dissipated that evening as we took in an acrobat show. I had been trying to get to one of these during each of the past two trips to BeiJing but kept striking out: first due to lack of cabs and traffic, then due to overzealous shopping (not on my behalf). But we took the necessary precautions and got front row seats to almost two hours worth of jaw dropping spectacle. It opened up with a man riding a unicycle on top of an umbrella being carried by another man on a unicycle and just got more insance from that. Sure, I was exhausted, but I couldn't stop smiling no matter how tired I was. If you, dear reader, ever get to BeiJing, see the acrobats. You'll be happy you did.

The next day was our Great Wall adventure. With the three of us traveling together, combined with my Chinese savvy, turned out to be only marginally more expensive to hire a minivan and driver for a personal ride out and back than taking public transport. Scrambling in for a 2.5 hour ride we headed to SiMaTai, an older section of the Wall that might be a bit more grueling of a trek than BaDaLing, but certainly less touristy and more authentic of an experience. My parents strove up as far as they could, but I bounded on to the highest reasonable point. The surrounded terrain was a combination of sharp brown mountain and flat plain. Having recently read "The Art of War," this sight gave better understanding to SunZi's knowledge; certainly much more than the endless plain of my Manchurian home. I also ran into some Georgetown MBA students I had met the day before at the Summer Palace. Turns out they paid more than twice what we paid for their minivan, and they had less people. And they are earning their MBAs. Ha. Business.

Our last day in BeiJing gave us the Forbidden City (lots of new exhibits have opened in side galleries since my prior visit a year before), carpet hunting (no luck) and a few hours in the Silk Market that will go unmentioned. That evening we climbed into VIP bunks on a sleeper train to HangZhou. My mother went from giddy to disgusted as she strolled from berth to bathroom, I just settled in and attempted to zone out as I prefer to do on trains.

BeiJing was behind us, we were carpetbagging.

The Bill will return in
Episode III: Die HangZhou Die (German for "The HangZhou, The")

Episode I: The Immigration Menace

Let the ramble... begin.






February 26th brought the last day of teaching before heading out into the wild unknown of China. My classes were all fun yet solemn, but there is no story here. It goes without saying that the beloved throngs that are my students feared a life without Teacher Bill, but who wouldn't? Numbers cried, of all ages. Little Gary of GoGo fame (his picture has been posted in the past) kicked off Sunday morning by telling me in Chinese that he already missed me as he refused to relinquish my leg. David (11 years old) demanded every once of contact information; Paula, Angel, Popola, and the rest of the 1:30 crew showered me with gifts (dolphins included) while Clare gave me a 3 disc Mongolian dance set.

But class is class, and while rewarding, the story begins outside the workplace.

Monday, February 27th, marked the going-away party. We'd originally planned celebrations at a trumped up dumpling emporium (if you don't understand my dumpling fetish, you're new to this blog) but as the numbers swelled we relocated. Meeting first at our main branch we began the train over to the restaurant. Little Apple (branch manager) and I picked out a cornucopia of dishes, excluding the tired guobuorou and disanxian. I wore my tailored jacket. Toasts were made. Stories shared. Honor bestowed. All laughed. Many cried. Check out the pictures.









Turns out I Harbin reaps good friends, and The Bill sprouts more thana few good stories, and all together this means more than my share - no, wait, my exact share of toasts. Regardless, despite the high level of emotion and sentimentality of the evening I ended up quite drunk. And quite hungover on the soft seat train ride (5 hours) to ShenYang the next morning.

Ugh. Hungover train ride. Overcrowded train. Not fun.

Now you may ask why might our intrepid explorer be headed to ShenYang, capital city of LiaoNing province? To tour the original Emperor's Palace? It was closed when I got there. Take in the beautiful parks? They were mostly frozen over. Sample the delicate cuisine? It was the same as Harbin. No, I was there to provide moral support to a friend applying for her J-1 Au Pair visa. She had found a sweet deal in Monterey, CA and all that remained was the interview which had her scared shitless. Rightfully so.

Now, I worked in immigration in a past life, that life that existed sometime between college and China, and its all about the details. We showed up for the interview that frigid morning and the mob was large. But godbless the American Consulate or whoever forced order unto this maddening crowd, for it soon became quite orderly. However, order or no, the line was long and the weather cold, and my friend quickly uncomfortable. I kept warm by dancing around with my American passport held high singing a tune of "I don't need a visa, lalalalalala!"

America: Fuck Yeah.

Eventually she got in, had the interview, scored the visa, and we headed out to have some fun in ShenYang. Turns out there isnt much fun to be had in ShenYang, but we did take in a large park, a temple, and other random sites. Nothing of great note. Certainly the story of the day was the visa, seconded by my ability to follow the entire dialogue of "The Transporter 2" in Chinese (shut up, lets see you do it). I also scored a promotional item that would come to serve me well throughout the rest of my travel: a bag. Not like your mom, but a handy little side satchel bag that stowed my Lonley Planet quite conveniently.

The ShenYang adventure ended without hitch and I parted ways with my Harbin friend: she off to America and I off to BeiJing to reunite with the parental units. The first leg lay behind me without a hitch.

The Bill will return in:
Episode II: The Wrath of Mahm