TripTik

Ate a mooncake ... and actually enjoyed it

I have been rather amazed on this trip by the Chinese families who have let me -- an American and, often, a total stranger -- into their homes. I have heard many foreigners complain upon visiting China that the Chinese are rude or cold. But I have found that once you break down that initial wall -- which is often rather easy to do -- most Chinese are amazingly gracious and warm* (*not including ticket sellers at most train stations ... or almost any Chinese person who sits behind a counter and wears a badge with a number and no name). Take last night, for example. Allen, my contact here, a college student who barely knows me -- he is an acquaintance of a friend of a co-worker of a friend -- invited me to his uncle's home for Mid-Autumn Festival dinner. "Are you sure I am really invited?" I wanted to make sure. "Of course," Allen said, as if I was stupid for asking. And so, just like that, I became the guest of honor on one of the biggest Chinese holidays of the year, joining Allen, his 16-year-old cousin, his aunt and his uncle around the dinner table for a wonderful home-cooked meal. There was nothing awkward about it, either. We ate and talked and laughed and, of course, drank some bai jiu. (Well, the uncle and I drank bai jiu. I haven't figured out how to say no.) It wasn't until after dinner, that the family even thought to ask Allen exactly how it was that he knew me. Several times, I was told to act as though I was home. And they made doing so incredibly easy. It was a relaxing evening. After dinner, we all took to the living room and watched a holiday music extravaganza live from Shanghai. We sat together around the television. We talked some more. We laughed some more. And I, the American stranger sitting on the couch, felt like the long lost family member recently returned home after an extended stay abroad.

Mounds of dirt and scary birds

Paul Theroux once wrote, "Sight-seeing is one of the more doubtful aspects of travel, and in China it is one of the least rewarding things a traveler can do -- primarily a distraction and seldom even an amusement. It has all the boredom and ritual of a pilgrimage and none of the spiritual benefits." My experiences here in Yinchuan (and elsewhere) support this theory. I always have much more fun, and find much more to write about, when nosing around town or mingling with the locals. Still, sometimes something in one of the guide books catches my eye, or a local tells me of a place that I "must see." Why do I keep falling for it? Two days ago, I visited the Western Xia Tombs, an ancient burial site with an interesting backstory that is allegedly the top tourist attraction in the area ... for foreigners, at least. But ancient sites in China always feel oddly prefabricated to me. There is just too much kitsch, too much clutter encroaching on the old stuff. All the mystery, all the sense of discovery is lost. (And the old stuff in this case -- no matter how many people try to label it the "Pyramids of China" -- is basically, when you get right down to it, several big mounds of dirt.) In the desert surrounding the site, are more structures associated with the tombs, and from my taxi they looked more impressive, more natural, to me. I asked the cabbie if I could walk to them. He said it was possible, but it would require two hours of hiking through the desert and, more importantly, there was a military airport in the area. "So maybe it wouldn't be safe," said Allen, my contact here. "They might think you are a spy." The Helan Shan Mountains looked nice in the distance. I wish I had decided to go there. Yesterday, I took Allen's advice (and my taxi driver's) and went to Sand Lake, considered the area's best site by most locals. It's a big amoeba-like pool of water surrounded by desert, and would be a very nice, peaceful and picturesque place to visit ... had they not decided to turn it into some sort of amusement park. Isn't a beautiful lake abutted by big sand dunes enough? No, according to Allen. The Chinese would be bored by it. So now the area is awash with new and delapidated red-roofed buildings and a variety of other attractions guaranteed to pollute with both noise and noxious gases. There are jeeps, four-wheelers, go karts and various carnival rides. There are speed boats, zip lines and hot air baloons. Of course, you can also ride a camel (or even an ostrich!). I went on a beautiful day that also happened to be a national holiday ... and the place was virtually empty, definitely more workers than visitors. The people manning the games passed time by playing their own games, or sleeping. The non-existent crowds may have been due to the fact that I visited during low season, or it may just be what happens when you try to open an amusement park in one of the poorest provinces in China. The cheapest admission ticket to Sand Lake was RMB 80 ($10). They went up to RMB 140. And nearly every activity inside the park costs extra. As a point of comparison, according to Chinese government statistics, the average urban household in Ningxia has RMB 535 of disposable income every month. Anyway, Sand Lake was a pretty sad place the day I visited. What fun are bumper boats with no one to bump into? What fun is riding an ostrich with no one to watch and laugh? And have you every really looked at an ostrich? I mean, have you taken the time to stop and stare? I did yesterday. Ostriches scare the hell out of me.

A tale of two Yinchuans

So, I am staying in a cheap hotel on the campus of Ningxia University, which is in new Yinchuan, which is an RMB 15 drive from old Yinchuan, which doesn't seem very old at all. In fact, new Yinchuan doesn't seem very new, either. Both are dirty ... but, I have been assured, not as dirty as Lanzhou -- my next stop, and according to some, the most polluted city on Earth. The shopping is better in old Yinchuan. Actually, I think most things are better in the old town (except, perhaps, the internet bars -- I am currently sitting in a smoke-free environment in a big, cushy chair). Still, for some reason, there are two Yinchuans, and they are separated by a wide, flat and empty highway. I was going to write more -- and I will -- but it looks as though I am getting kicked off of my computer. I guess the nice places close early. More soon.

Digging a tunnel ... under China

Had some time to kill here in Beijing while waiting for a train, so I sought out one of the capital city's more peculiar attractions, Dixia Cheng, or the Underground City. Masterminded by Mao at his most paranoid, this complex web of tunnels was built between 1969 and 1979 to help secure Beijing in the event of an attack ... from the Soviet Union, according to my guide. If connected end-to-end, the tunnels would stretch longer than the Great Wall, I was told. There were schools and a hospital built underground, and even a theater in which Mao and his men would watch "military documentary movies." If they weren't blocked off, the tunnels could take you almost anywhere you wanted to go in the city, and even many places outside Beijing. As we passed one blocked corridor, I was told if we hiked through it for three days we would end up in Tianjin. The tunnels are decorated rather cheesily today, with camouflage hanging from walls adorned with photos of famous-and-not-so-famous communists, tanks, missiles, explosions and other stock military images. There are also mannequins -- almost all female -- decked out in army gear and gasmasks. Also underground is, of course, a store. There, you can purchase silk blankets, just like the ones the eldery and children would use down in the tunnels to stave off rheumatism -- it's pretty damp and cold down there. But for RMB 20, the tunnels still make for an interesting tour that adds to the mystery of Chairman Mao. There are entrances to the tunnels hidden all over the city. As we passed the hallway that would have led us to Tiananmen Square, I asked my guide where in the square it would take us. "Where would it come out?" she repeated with a giggle. "That is a military secret." The Underground City is located at 62 Xi Damochang Lu in a hutong neighborhood near Qianmen Dajie. RMB 20 per person. 8:30 a.m. - 5 p.m. daily. Phone 67022657 or 67011389.

Passport required ... to surf the net?

I have been traveling through China for around nine weeks now. Been to a good number of places, big and small. Today was the first day somebody actually took down my passport number. Why? I wanted to use the internet. I'm in Beijing now -- a seven-hour layover before my train leaves for Yinchuan, Ningxia -- and evidently internet bars here are cracking down ... on something. No, it's not just foreigners. No, it's not just me -- the writer who got blacklisted in Shenyang. Everyone must show ID to enter this place. We are all being watched. Perhaps the government is trying to recruit players for the National Counter Strike Team. There are a couple hot prospects sitting behind me right now.

Yinchuan, 'China's Quietest City'

Or at least it was three years ago. I'll see for myself when I arrive in the capital of Ningxia Autonomous Region. I leave Harbin tonight ... and I don't get to Yinchuan until Sunday morning. Which means I get to spend 30 hours on Chinese trains! (And seven hours passing time in Beijing.) My contact in Ningxia is named Allen. He is a college junior. And now you know as much about Allen as I do. By the way, if you ever need any travel-related help in Harbin, I had a very good experience dealing with Sun De'an at the CITS office here. Mr. Sun speaks great English and he and his staff are very helpful and friendly. Contact the office at (0451) 53642339 or visit their website.

Black beer for RMB 5 a pint

I could never live in Harbin. Me and minus-22-degrees-Fahrenheit temperatures just don't mix. But I discovered a little microbrewery -- yes, a microbrewery in China -- that would make dealing with the long winters a little easier. Nothing like a frosty mug to help soothe some frostbite. They've got black beer and, yes, the yellow stuff, too. It is tasty ... and it's only RMB 5 per pint. That's around 60 cents, which will get you exactly one-thirteenth of a Guinness back in Shanghai. So, if you find yourself up this way, remember this address: 117 Ren He Jie, just off of Guo Ge Li Da Jie. The name of the place is Shi Xiang Shao Kao and it says it on the outdoor sign in big English letters. I am heading there now. The food is pretty good there, too.

And you thought Travis Bickle was crazy

In some cities, it is impossible to catch a cab. Here in Harbin, it is impossible to avoid them. The city really appears to be overpopulated ... with maroon Volkswagen taxis, each one outfitted with strange flashing disco lights on the dash. Maybe the lights are there to hypnotize you into wanting to be driven somewhere. The taxi drivers here are desperate bullies. They try to scare you into wanting a ride. Empty cabs beep at pedestrians -- pedestrians on the sidewalk -- in an effort, I assume, to remind walkers that they are only walking. If that doesn't work, they slow down and stalk you, drive slowly beside you, taking a page from the Kidnapper's Guide to Cab Driving. This morning, as I was heading to this very internet bar, a taxi cab blocked my progress, obviously hoping this surprise tactic would confuse me and I would unwittingly climb into the door that suddenly appeared in front of me. "Hmmm. Well, I was just trying to cross the street. But now that you have stopped your car in front of me, I guess I would like you to drive me ... somewhere ... please ... Mr. Cab Driver ... sir." I haven't seen anything like this since SARS-scared Shanghai, when no one wanted to ride in a cab, and taxis drove around like lost puppies, trying to guilt you into hopping in.

I have 15 years to live

Well, not really. But to all you Chinese journalism students out there, you may want to read this Guardian story: China's rise in wealth brings fall in health. The story says, "A study by the Red Cross Society of China found that more than 70% of the residents of the three wealthiest conurbations, Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou, were ill, unfit or short of energy." But here is the really scary part: "A study by 10 news organisations in Shanghai showed that the average lifespan of a reporter was 45 years." Maybe I should move. (For more great news links, check out this site's Newsworthy section.)

More about *biang biang* mian

For those of you following the gripping discussion about the origins of the elaborate Chinese character biang -- yes, both of you -- Johnson has added his two cents, including a nice little poem (in Chinese). You can see the character and read all the comments in the Photo Gallery. You can read more about biang in my story from Xi'an. Also, Prince Roy has written about the topic at his site.

My face is all craggly, it's crinkly

After a weekend of Bliss here in Harbin, it's back to the grind. I've picked up a cold -- my third of the trip, I believe -- so at least I can't smell what is going on around me here at the internet bar. Today, I uploaded more than 200 photos, from Shenyang, Dandong, Changbai Shan, Suifenhe and Harbin. You can find direct links to them in this page's New Photos section (below), or by clicking here. I plan on hanging out here in Harbin for another day or two. I need to knock out another story before I hit the road and head to Ningxia. For the forseeable future, I hope to post at least one of my longer stories from the road each week and update this TripTik almost daily. I think those are reasonable goals, considering my Pocket PC is now back in Shanghai, therefore forcing me to do all of my writing in internet bars -- from which I always emerge feeling as though I spent the evening at Kramer's smoking club (Kramer: Hey, you should come over. Tonight's pipe night. Jerry: What? What happened to your face? It looks like an old catcher's mitt.) Still no contact in Ningxia. Who knows, maybe I'll end up hanging around with this guy.

I need a massage

Because I just had a Chinese massage. Oooh, this one hurt. He found all the right -- or wrong -- places. And he could tell I had a history of lower back pain ... by looking at my ear. I have found most of my massages in China to be very relaxing -- when they are finished.

High-speed connection, slow death

I wonder how many years I am erasing from my life by sitting in Chinese internet bars. They are disgusting smoke-and-spit-filled places. The men smoke. The women smoke. The boys smoke. The girls smoke. Everybody smokes. There often is no ventilation. And there are usually puddles of phlegm on the floor. Earlier today at a "nice" internet bar in Harbin, a man actually spit under his mouse pad. I have been to packed internet bars all over this country, and I have never -- I repeat, NEVER -- seen anyone use the internet for informational purposes, even though plenty of off-limits info is out there despite the Chinese government's best efforts to censor it. Maybe that's why people always stare over my shoulder quizzically at what is going on on my screen -- "The white man is using Internet Explorer! He is actually using his computer to read words! Look! Look!" Everyone at internet bars in China either plays games, chats or watches movies. Nothing else. Last night, a couple seated at the computer next to me watched an entire soft-core porn flick. I just wanted to let you know that I am sacrificing both my health and my sanity for you, readers. OK, gotta go. The guy next to me just angled his computer camera my way, to prove to the person on the other end that he was sitting next to a real live laowai. Now they both can watch me wash my hands with Purell Instant Hand Sanitizer.

G'day from Harbin

Did you know that Australians call a comforter a doona? Did you know that they call a party a do? I didn't until I arrived in Harbin last night. What does any of this have to do with China, you ask? Well, not much. Other than the fact that in Harbin I am staying with a ponytailed former plumber from Melbourne named Stavros Mavropoulos. He's teaching English here and was nice enough to offer up his couch (I wonder if that's what they call it in Australia). The weather is actually rather pleasant here in a city famous for ice festivals and temperatures that reach minus-30 degrees Celsius. It seems the locals, understandably, like to draw out their summers as long as possible. As I waited for Stavros in front of the Wal-Mart -- yes, another one -- the temperature was maybe 55 degrees Fahrenheit, but I still saw two men walking down the street with their shirts pulled above their bellies, as Chinese men are wont to do in "balmy" weather.

Tibet or not Tibet?

That is my question. I need to decide soon whether I am going there. It was the original "plan," to make it an actual cross-country trip. But now I am wondering whether it would be too large of an investment both time-wise and money-wise. I'm not sure if a week is enough time to do Tibet justice. And I'm not sure if I can afford to dedicate more time than that -- I eventually have to get back to a life in Shanghai, and I still have the entire southern strip of China to cover. Also, I have a friend who recently spent two weeks in Tibet and spent $1,500. I simply cannot afford that. I can't even afford half of that. And anyway, I likely wouldn't get to Tibet until early October. Is that too late in the year, too cold, for a northern approach into Tibet? I'd appreciate any thoughts or suggestions. (Btw, bus for Harbin leaves in two hours.)

Russians drink beer for breakfast

At least the ones waiting outside the Suifenhe train station this morning did. There were hundreds of them, mostly merchants I suppose, each hauling huge plastic bags of product back across the border. Well, they were waiting to haul it back across. The entire waiting room floor -- a big space -- was packed with these bags, and big Russians reclining upon them. People spilled out onto the stairs and sidewalks outside, many swilling beer from big bottles. I took some photos outside the train station, and just one inside the train station. A Russian man warned me -- in Russian, of course -- that if I continued to take photos someone would tap me on the shoulder and confiscate my camera. Not sure who, or why, but I didn't want to find out. These Russians -- men and women -- looked burly and mean, not like the comparatively dainty Russian tourists I have seen shopping on the Suifenhe streets. No, these were hard-boiled Russians. They inhaled cigarettes just like the Chinese. And they pushed and shoved just like the Chinese. Only with these folks, I didn't think it was in my best interests to push back.

Moscow on the ... Suifenhe?

Today I split 11 hours between two buses and a van and got dropped off at a small city of 100,000 in the far reaches of northeastern China -- and I just walked down a street with more white people than any spot in Shanghai. I'm in Suifenhe, Heilongjiang Province, right on the Russian border. Russians cross the border to shop ... and make life even more confusing for us other laowais. Now, Chinese people don't approach me with "Hello," instead it's, well, however you say "Hello" in Russian. Because, really, why would any other white person come way the f--k out here?

No monster, just mountains

Last night in Erdao Baihe, a small city not too far from Changbai Shan (Ever-White Mountain) and Tian Chi (Heavenly Lake), a crater lake that is supposed to be home to "China's Loch Ness Monster." First day, I didn't see a monster. I didn't see anything, really. It was snowy and freezing at 8,130 feet and visibility was zero. Second day, I didn't see a monster. But I did see the lake. And it was, as every Chinese tourist around me would attest, piaoliang. Photos soon. Heading to Suifenhe, in Heilongjiang, tomorrow. Hopefully. (I am typing this from Zheng Chang Ling's computer. If you are interested in visiting Changbai Shan -- and you read Chinese -- check out his website. He's a nice guy.)

Know anyone in Ningxia?

I sure as hell don't. So if you do, please let me know. I'm headed there in a couple weeks.

Looking ahead

Well, maybe a week or so in the future. I can't plan much beyond that. I am looking to leave Changchun soon, perhaps this afternoon, and head to Changbai Shan (Ever-White Mountains) Nature Reserve, featuring Tian Chi (Heaven Pool), a crater lake with an elevation of 2,196 meters on the North Korean border. Then I'm thinking about heading north -- if it is even possible -- through the Korean Autonomous Prefecture and on into Heilongjiang province, where I will stop in Mudanjiang and then Suifenhe, on the Russian border, before backtracking west to Harbin. Basically, I'll just be bumming around until Harbin, where I actually have some contacts. If you know about any of these places I have in my plans -- or, better yet, if you actually know anyone who lives there -- please leave some tips in the comment jar.

Regarding my phone

It's gone. I think we can safely assume that. Whoever has it now has turned it off, and that's never a good sign. But it's not losing the phone that bothers me -- it was a cheapo, and rather girly actually -- it's losing the phone number. I just had a whole bunch of business cards made! Theoretically, I should be able to retain my old number, assuming I can present a password card that was given to me when I got the SIM card. But, according to sources close to my apartment, the password card is nowhere to be found. If someone has any tips for getting around this technicality, please leave a comment or send me an email. In the meantime, I don't have anyone's phone number and no one has mine. So if you need to contact me by phone, send me an email and I will give you the number I am currently using (provided I want to talk to you).

How do you say Wal-Mart in Chinese?

Well, actually, it is something like wo er ma. Just walked around the Wal-Mart Supercenter near John's place here in Changchun, and I must say I'm surprised ... by how normal it is. It is big and clean and organized and not too crowded in the middle of the day. Other than the signage and an exceptionally large tea department, I could have very easily been in, well, any town in America. The parking lot is huge, too -- but amazingly empty. Guess they are planning for the future.

First of many

Hi from Changchun. To give this site a more as-it-happens feel, we have added the Triptik, which I will fill with regular, short notes from the road. They may not be as regular as I would like them to be, though. My freakin' wireless internet hasn't worked since Beijing. Oh, and I lost my phone yesterday. Good times.